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A Beautiful Mess - House & Host
Christianity and God Life

A Beautiful Mess

I’ve been brewing up this post for quite some time now and wrestled on whether or not I should share.  But, if you know me or have been following me for some time now, I hope you have gathered that I am a pretty transparent person.  And on occasion I share a bit about what’s going on behind the scenes of my life.

Right now, in the midst of this beautiful life comes an equally beautiful mess.  You can find me right in the middle.

I have no graceful or smooth approach to this post.  My head is clogged and jammed and spins a bit out of control, on the reg.  Since becoming a mom and going back to work, I can only explain my life as a cluster.  And after giving this some thought over the past few weeks, I think I can boil it all down to two things.  One, I can’t do it all.  Two, I need God.  On the reg.

You see, having a child is the greatest, most precious amazing heart-tugging incredible thing on the planet.  And working for one of the best hotel companies in the world is pretty frickin’ amazing.  And being married to a funny, God-fearing, loving guy is superb.  And being a blogger is creative and surprising and innovative and adds passion to my life.  And losing baby weight and staying healthy is just a necessity.  And having time with my girlfriends.  Yeah, also a necessity.  Being with God daily?  HUGE necessity.  And serving at our local church is a glorious obligation.  And helping friends with their businesses is beyond rewarding.  And managing a household as a wife, a mom is also rewarding; also a glorious obligation.  And designing rooms and spaces, in pursuit of a giant love that was stamped on my heart when I was just a child?  Yeah, that’s a home run in my life.  And traveling to visit friends, see the world, explore new territory…now we’re talking grand slam territory.  Homemade meals midweek?  Sign me up, I love acting all Julia Child-ish.  Add a few people to that meal for one of my favorite pastimes, dinner parties?  I feel like Babe Ruth in 1921.  BTW, I have no clue where all these baseball analogies are coming from.

a-beautiful-mess

And then I start hitting foul balls.  I swing, I miss.  And then I strike out.  And my head explodes.  My heart follows suit.  And my neck hurts.  And I’m eating chocolate chip cookies to feel good about  my life.  And the second I take the last bite I am pissed at myself because, baby weight.  And I’m doing most things at 70% and minimal things at 100%.  And forget 110%.  The percent at which I functioned prior to being all grown up.  And I’m mad at Rick for not totally understanding me.  And I’m not praying because I don’t want to face God.  And it takes me longer to respond.  And I think about my life.  And the tension.  And me.  And me.  And me.

And now I’ve entered selfishville, the worst city in the entire world.  A world where all my thoughts are focused around my stress, how I can’t do it all, how I’m thankful for everything but awesome at nothing.  And I want awesome.  And my life.  And I only live once.  And I need this.  And I need that.  And I want this.  And all-consuming me thoughts.  Barf.

So, there’s that you guys.  There’s where I am at.  And as I keep asking what’s next?  And what do I do?  It finally hit me, thanks to my husband.  I’ve been throwing these questions at him for some time.  And finally, unexpectedly he answered.  As I anticipated his response to “what is next for me” – I thought for sure he’d say something bold like “quit your job and become a full-time blogger!”  Or “let’s move to the south of France!”  Or “be a stay at home mom!”  Or “try out for HGTV to flip houses!”

My loving, God-fearing, superb husband says this:  “I know what you need to do.  I know exactly what you need to do next.  PrayOh, and be patient.

It’s the most annoying, cliche, brilliant, loving response to my insanity.  So while my head spins and I perform life at 70%, I will be praying.  And it comes as no timing coincidence that I leave this weekend to go to Israel.  By myself.  Ahem, with God.  Begging for a Jesus intervention in the holy land. Praying my face off.  Being thankful for this beautiful mess.  And having hope and confidence because Romans 5: 3-5 and because I’ve been here before.  And God has picked me up.  And has made beautiful things out of the dust.  Out of us.  All of us.

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