the story gets better.

everything around me is speaking softly about living a better story:  don miller’s book “a million miles in a thousand years” (seriously.  go get this book right now if you haven’t read it), bob’s sermons on courage, every mom-blog i stumble upon. just this morning again:

“am i living a good story?”  –

last night i scurried around my house, a squirrel in preparation for winter, sweeping floors & assigning chores & folding towels, in anticipation of Baby coming.  i know.  we’re 7 weeks ahead of the gate, & you could call this nesting.  but it was more than that.  it was:  how am i going to keep this house from falling down on its foundation with a newborn?  

i was irritable, directing the kids one way & then the other without SEEING them, planning way down the road.  & i’ve been falling prey to this more & more lately.  not the way i’d planned my story to go.

this was cold water in my face.  while navigating these details isn’t inherently evil (i DON”T want the house to fall down around me.  duh.), the POINT is i-get-to-have-another-baby. i am carrying a fourth beanpole, & said spirit is joining our league soon.  that’s CELEBRATION.  not worry. the details WILL fall into place;  God will make sure of that.

meanwhile, i’ve got 3 lovely spirits plus a fantastic huz residing right here, right now.

see?  aren’t they lovely?  they know how to live a good story.  of course they do.  

which made me realize that somewhere here, my story has become heavy on the to-do & light on the what-matters.  i don’t want my first thoughts in the morning to be:  what are we eating today?  when am i going to fold laundry?  good grief, what IS that on the floor?

what i’d like to have roll through my head is more this script:  how am i going to connect with my kids today?  what about my husband?  i have to remember to write today, & to rest.  & God, about Him.  what can I do to make this day worthwhile?

i want my story to be memorable.  for my sons to say in their twenties, “yep, mom made really great pizza,” but also, “mom always had time to talk, even when she was doing dishes.”  or my girl to say, “my mom was a little wacky, no hair & all, but i always knew she loved me.  i could always feel it.”

so, i’ve been aiming these last few days to amp up the story.  sit longer at breakfast.  and lunch.  and dinner.  read winnie-the-pooh out in the sunshine to the kids & laugh at the quiet, funny parts.  cook well, but get it done & move on.  incorporate the kids INTO the housework, supplying them their own tools, putting on javin’s music, letting them dance (a little) while they put away laundry.  lavish the good word on them when they’ve finished.

it’s not that my story has been lame, but IN MY BELLY i know it’s meant to be written better.  i know myself;  i know where i’m not living in the vein i’d always intended.  i can feel what God wrote in my gut, & when i’m not in line with it.

SO, here we go.  i’ll be more intentional about TODAY.  (because that’s all i’m guaranteed, anyway.)  i will give more hugs & kisses.  i will slow down more to SEE them, & all the hallelujah-glory around me.  i will hear the quirky things all 3 of them say, & write some of them down.  (“mom, where did we get this house?”  -K.  me:  “we bought it.”  K:  “in a shopping cart?”)

last summer, our first official family vacation.  that was a good chapter.

“i’ve understood that we only get one pass through life. i’ve vowed that i won’t just pass through. i will live and live authentically.” –summer, of the blog ‘running chatter’.

are you with me?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s