And then I dream about jumping.
And now I'm not dreaming, anymore. The reality sets in- the beautiful life I live is enough. It has to be enough. The dream storage inside me is so full it's leaking. This is a problem. I need to stop and make space for peace.
With every dish I wash and every sock pair I join with joyful surprise (because really, it can be a rare event) I'm trying to go more to a place of thankfulness than despair. Just to clarify- I've never regretted my choice to be a mom or a wife. But some days it just isn't all rainbows and sunshine. Sometimes it's tears and regretted words and hurt feelings. Some days it's black eyes and scraped knees and we all forget to say please.
And on those days I do my best to channel Ann Voskamp or Bo Stern because, really, what is so hard in my life that I get to complain about it? But on those days my words feel like wood chips in my mouth. My tears flow faster than my fingers on the keyboard and I'm stuck in a slough of no inspiration. Like riding your bike along a nice dirt track and suddenly running into deep, deep sand that just grips your tires and knocks you flying over your handlebars. Maybe that would be a good name for a self-help book: "When Life Grips Your Tires and Sends You Flying Over Your Handlebars." People like self-help books. It could sell. But today I don't want to write a best selling self-help book. All I want to do is disappear into quiet and space and myself and just hide out in my favorite hiding place or a really good, funky coffee shop.
So this post is dedicated to all those great coffee shops out there that allow us to sit in stoney silence and don't admonish us for ignoring the piles of dishes and they don't shun us for running out on our husbands on a Sunday afternoon just "because," and they don't judge us for not shaving our legs or finishing that book club book or trying that new thing on Pinterest... they just let us sit.
Now- before I go I have to say this. Jesus loves to meet me at that coffee shop. Sometimes it's the only place I remember to look for him. So please, please, put down your expectations and go meet him there. Have some coffee and whine a little about your first world problems. It's ok, he listens. And when it's all done you've spared your husband the drama and your kids the unexplained tears and everything feels a little better in your world. I know it works because I'm sitting here in this great little coffee shop...
I hope I remember to blog more often. I hope you remember to be you, too.