In the last several weeks I've been working on gratitude. I found a Gratitude app and downloaded it to my phone. I'm not much of a regular journaler, (or really an app downloader...) but I felt like focusing on gratitude would go a long way. So every day my phone reminds me to write down something that I'm thankful for, something that makes me smile, something I'm looking forward to. I chose to focus on just one thing each day, because I know that there is power in one simple thing.
Today, that one little thing packed a punch.
Today I'm tired; both tired and exhausted.
I'm also sick. I'm emotional and overwhelmed and the fact that I didn't have much for breakfast or lunch surely doesn't help this sad state of affairs.
I put the tiny, whiny toddler in her bed an hour early for nap time today after trying to nap myself while she played. "Play" meant climbing onto my bed, stepping on my head, pulling my hair, knocking faces and stretching out my glasses. Playtime needed to be over.
Then I climbed into the shower alone.
The thought of that 'one thing' I'm supposed to be grateful for had the opposite of its original intended effect. I - in my sickened, exhausted, sorry for myself state - all but exploded.
Because aren't I worth more than one measly thing!?
When did 'doing something for myself' become sneaking a 10 minute-uninterrupted-by-children shower? When did it become a rare Mom's night (read 2 - 3 hours) out? When did it become stealing 2 minutes to read half a page of a good book I would actually like to finish sometime this millenia? When did it become getting a workout in? When did it become actually getting to bed early? When did it become staying up late just to have alone time?
Not to mention doing any of those things without being whined at? Without being stepped on? Without feeling guilty? Without forgetting something else that needed done? Without having to break up a fight? Without being pinched, or argued with or yelled for or screamed at or having to cook for or clean up after or answering the same question 5,000 times?
When did I start forgetting I'm a bleeping person and not a vending machine!?
Today all I've had in me is commiserating about trying to take one tiny thing for myself while I feel like everyone's sucking 5, 638, 934, 257 things out of me.
Gratitude's not been working for me today.
As I cried, alone in the shower I thought, 'What do you do when you KNOW in your head that you are enough, but you just don't FEEL like it today?' I'm stretched so thin. Everyone wants a piece, and I genuinely want everyone to have a piece; but when it's all over, will there be a piece left for me? I love being a mother. It's also soul- crushingly hard. It requires giving of myself in ways I've never experienced. I love being a wife. I love being a friend. I love being a hygienist. I love helping where and when and who I do. I love that I'm learning to give in good, yet soul stretching ways. Sometimes it all stacks up so high it becomes overwhelming.
I know I'm not perfect at any of it. I know God makes up the difference when I lack. I also know, when He sees fit to let me struggle before He makes up the difference, I can scrape the bottom of my barrel and miraculously there is more of me to give. I know it, but I'm just not feeling it. So today, in a fit of selfishness and pity, I just want to keep those bottom of the barrel dregs for myself. Heck, I want the whole flippin' barrel back.
I finished my shower, completely uninterrupted by children, and thought, 'Well, there's my one thing for the day'. But then I counted: 2. the toddler was actually sleeping and 3. the other two were playing so sweetly, so 4. I was able to pick up my laptop and write out the inner turmoil you've just finished reading just before 5. my sweet husband came home just in time and preemptively took the kid's attention just as it was turning to me.
Maybe, just maybe, my barrel's being filled more quickly than I was giving any credit for. But is it so bad to wish it refilled a little bit faster? Because I'm still wishing.
I had an image and a thought of the Savior flash through my mind throughout all this. He is the ultimate Giver. What did He ever take for Himself? How did He give EVERYTHING without a (at least recorded) thought about His time, His needs, His self care, His boundaries? I want to be like Him, and my goodness does His level of giving surpass my own.
So here's what I'm struggling with. What if being like Him means I will get less and less for myself? What if I feel like I'll give myself into oblivion? What if that makes me feel like (especially today) I want to tap out now?
Then I remembered. There was at least one time He also asked for relief. Lest you think I would ever actually compare the level of my pity party to His suffering, let me address it.
My pity party doesn't compare.
But. It does mean He knows what it's like to want to tap out. He knows what it's like to feel like He'll give Himself into oblivion. He knows what it's like to have everyone sucking 5, 638, 934, 257 things (multiplied by infinity) out of Him. I can imagine He KNEW who He was, what He must do, that He would succeed, and still didn't FEEL quite like pushing forward. I can imagine there was a minute He wasn't particularly grateful for the experience. And that means He knows.
Without meaning to find one, I guess that's the answer to this whole tirade. My barrel feels empty and He knows. I'm enough when I'm not enough and He knows. I'm going more miles running on fumes than I should and He knows. I don't know how (unlike Him) to give without needing to take something back sometimes and He knows. I'm not always grateful for the experience and He knows.
Today my nerves are still raw and He knows.
So what do you do when you KNOW in your head you are enough but you just don't FEEL like it today? You sneak a shower, you cry until you can't, you remember that today isn't tomorrow, and tomorrow will be better.
You remember He knows giving sometimes hurts and giving always heals. You remember that you are a human and not a vending machine; that giving fills more than it takes from you. You remember that Jesus does take very little and make it into an abundance. You remember He knows what it feels like before it is an abundance.
You remember that your Redeemer knows your heart and your efforts, all your gratitude and ingratitude and recognizes both the power and difficulty of the many 'one things' you are undertaking. You remember that He's helping you learn to be the giver He is, and that requires stretching and crying and questions and time.
So you give yourself a day to resist said required stretching because it hurts. You give yourself a day to let it hurt a little less, because you know it will. You give yourself a day to cry all the tears of frustration and ineptitude and wallow in a little self pity. You give yourself time to keep asking and expecting answers to the questions on your heart.
You find power (and finally a little gratitude) in one thing: that He gives infinitely, replacing your fumes with fuel, emptiness with wholeness, soreness with strength.
But, if you are anything like me, you wait until tomorrow to write in that pesky little gratitude app.
Today, that one little thing packed a punch.
Today I'm tired; both tired and exhausted.
I'm also sick. I'm emotional and overwhelmed and the fact that I didn't have much for breakfast or lunch surely doesn't help this sad state of affairs.
I put the tiny, whiny toddler in her bed an hour early for nap time today after trying to nap myself while she played. "Play" meant climbing onto my bed, stepping on my head, pulling my hair, knocking faces and stretching out my glasses. Playtime needed to be over.
Then I climbed into the shower alone.
The thought of that 'one thing' I'm supposed to be grateful for had the opposite of its original intended effect. I - in my sickened, exhausted, sorry for myself state - all but exploded.
Because aren't I worth more than one measly thing!?
When did 'doing something for myself' become sneaking a 10 minute-uninterrupted-by-children shower? When did it become a rare Mom's night (read 2 - 3 hours) out? When did it become stealing 2 minutes to read half a page of a good book I would actually like to finish sometime this millenia? When did it become getting a workout in? When did it become actually getting to bed early? When did it become staying up late just to have alone time?
Not to mention doing any of those things without being whined at? Without being stepped on? Without feeling guilty? Without forgetting something else that needed done? Without having to break up a fight? Without being pinched, or argued with or yelled for or screamed at or having to cook for or clean up after or answering the same question 5,000 times?
When did I start forgetting I'm a bleeping person and not a vending machine!?
Today all I've had in me is commiserating about trying to take one tiny thing for myself while I feel like everyone's sucking 5, 638, 934, 257 things out of me.
Gratitude's not been working for me today.
As I cried, alone in the shower I thought, 'What do you do when you KNOW in your head that you are enough, but you just don't FEEL like it today?' I'm stretched so thin. Everyone wants a piece, and I genuinely want everyone to have a piece; but when it's all over, will there be a piece left for me? I love being a mother. It's also soul- crushingly hard. It requires giving of myself in ways I've never experienced. I love being a wife. I love being a friend. I love being a hygienist. I love helping where and when and who I do. I love that I'm learning to give in good, yet soul stretching ways. Sometimes it all stacks up so high it becomes overwhelming.
I know I'm not perfect at any of it. I know God makes up the difference when I lack. I also know, when He sees fit to let me struggle before He makes up the difference, I can scrape the bottom of my barrel and miraculously there is more of me to give. I know it, but I'm just not feeling it. So today, in a fit of selfishness and pity, I just want to keep those bottom of the barrel dregs for myself. Heck, I want the whole flippin' barrel back.
I finished my shower, completely uninterrupted by children, and thought, 'Well, there's my one thing for the day'. But then I counted: 2. the toddler was actually sleeping and 3. the other two were playing so sweetly, so 4. I was able to pick up my laptop and write out the inner turmoil you've just finished reading just before 5. my sweet husband came home just in time and preemptively took the kid's attention just as it was turning to me.
Maybe, just maybe, my barrel's being filled more quickly than I was giving any credit for. But is it so bad to wish it refilled a little bit faster? Because I'm still wishing.
I had an image and a thought of the Savior flash through my mind throughout all this. He is the ultimate Giver. What did He ever take for Himself? How did He give EVERYTHING without a (at least recorded) thought about His time, His needs, His self care, His boundaries? I want to be like Him, and my goodness does His level of giving surpass my own.
So here's what I'm struggling with. What if being like Him means I will get less and less for myself? What if I feel like I'll give myself into oblivion? What if that makes me feel like (especially today) I want to tap out now?
Then I remembered. There was at least one time He also asked for relief. Lest you think I would ever actually compare the level of my pity party to His suffering, let me address it.
My pity party doesn't compare.
But. It does mean He knows what it's like to want to tap out. He knows what it's like to feel like He'll give Himself into oblivion. He knows what it's like to have everyone sucking 5, 638, 934, 257 things (multiplied by infinity) out of Him. I can imagine He KNEW who He was, what He must do, that He would succeed, and still didn't FEEL quite like pushing forward. I can imagine there was a minute He wasn't particularly grateful for the experience. And that means He knows.
Without meaning to find one, I guess that's the answer to this whole tirade. My barrel feels empty and He knows. I'm enough when I'm not enough and He knows. I'm going more miles running on fumes than I should and He knows. I don't know how (unlike Him) to give without needing to take something back sometimes and He knows. I'm not always grateful for the experience and He knows.
Today my nerves are still raw and He knows.
So what do you do when you KNOW in your head you are enough but you just don't FEEL like it today? You sneak a shower, you cry until you can't, you remember that today isn't tomorrow, and tomorrow will be better.
You remember He knows giving sometimes hurts and giving always heals. You remember that you are a human and not a vending machine; that giving fills more than it takes from you. You remember that Jesus does take very little and make it into an abundance. You remember He knows what it feels like before it is an abundance.
You remember that your Redeemer knows your heart and your efforts, all your gratitude and ingratitude and recognizes both the power and difficulty of the many 'one things' you are undertaking. You remember that He's helping you learn to be the giver He is, and that requires stretching and crying and questions and time.
So you give yourself a day to resist said required stretching because it hurts. You give yourself a day to let it hurt a little less, because you know it will. You give yourself a day to cry all the tears of frustration and ineptitude and wallow in a little self pity. You give yourself time to keep asking and expecting answers to the questions on your heart.
You find power (and finally a little gratitude) in one thing: that He gives infinitely, replacing your fumes with fuel, emptiness with wholeness, soreness with strength.
But, if you are anything like me, you wait until tomorrow to write in that pesky little gratitude app.
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