This past month, I have felt a little lost, even in my own home. I blame it on two things: no routine and no furniture. My days have been scattered, insignificant, exhausting. So, I called a truce and it went a little something like this:
I can be tempted to feel not-enough very quickly by looking at these things. While I am not someone who believes Pinterest, Instagram, Facebook, or blogs are inherently evil–I immensely enjoy them actually (although I do love this post by Honest Toddler about Pinterest)–I think I need to be more careful with the how often I look at these things, what I am looking at, and what it is doing in my mind and heart. If it is inspiring me to be a better wife and mother, through the sharing of great ideas and thoughts and encouragement, than yes, absolutely, inspire on. However, if it is creating a dissonance and discouragement because I don’t do, do, do, then I need to cut it out and carry on.
Since then, I have experienced remorse. I just want our old furniture back, our old arrangement, our old space. It wasn’t perfect, but it was worn-in, and memory-laden and cozy. It was ours. More than the couch and chairs from the living room, I miss our dining room table. I miss the moments we shared around it and what it represented: dinner together every night, family time, day debriefing. Sure, we will probably look back on these recent days of sitting on the floor for dinner, propped on pillows against the wall, we will probably remember fondly my parents coming over and somehow fitting four full dinner plates on our small coffee table as we knelt around it and ate. Those were the days, we’ll say. But, really, I miss having a table.
Here’s the thing, when you are always looking to improve, looking for more/more/more, you find that every spare minute becomes occupied with how to get there. Cory and I have spent too many weekends this summer doing home projects and too few weekends just having family time. Last weekend, Cory decided to kidnap us in the middle (like, WET PAINT middle) of an incredibly frustrating project to do this:
It was the best decision.
I don’t think I will ever look back and regret afternoons like that or things like reading too many books, having too many cuddles, going on too many walks, saying too many prayers, spending too many Friday evenings in with my husband. I will look back and regret trying too hard, rushing around, buying stuff stuff stuff, trying to impress and in turn inspiring the same discontent in others. I want to live a life that inspires health — mind, body, soul. What does this mean for you? What useless activities do you need to cut out in order to breathe, enjoying the exact place you are at this exact moment? For me that list is evolving, and challenging and changing my perspective. And, to tell you the truth, I kind of like the view from here, with a sleeping toddler across my lap, reminding me of what really matters.