If you've been at my house you know that my house is rather crazy most of the time. It's loud. It's chaotic. It usually appears to be disorganized. I've come to realize that although I love order, schedules and organization, I have that artist's mentality. The one that has piles all over the studio and knows exactly what is in each pile. Therefore, I am creatively organized. My life isn't insanely chaotic, it's creatively organized. Friends have even described me as living in organized chaos.
Most of the time this does not bother me. Sometimes life is a little more crowded than others and that's when I'm bothered. I can usually keep perspective on piles and dirt by just glancing at my growing kids. When my eyes stay focused on my kitchen counter or bathroom floor too long, I get discouraged. When I'd like to focus my eyes and energy on my kitchen counter or bathroom floor instead of softball practice, homework and dinner, I get discouraged.
I've been rather discouraged this week. Battling blue emotions always invites me to introspection. I want to know why. I want help. I want fixing. I figure if I can wrap my head around it, my heart will soon follow. This time I was angry at my heart. Why, after all these years, is my head still having to tell my heart to get in line with God's truth? Can't I just experience a moment where my heart tells my head to quit thinking and start trusting?
Some experiences this week have brought me to question where my hope is resting. Once again. It's not like this is a new phenomenon to me. I got this picture of my elbows on a table. Yes, my hope is firmly resting in Christ. This week my elbows have been resting on the table of circumstance. When the winds of change blew through my life, I faltered for a moment. Then I fell forward straight onto the chest of my Father. So although my elbows were resting elsewhere, my weight was on my Father. When my elbows gave way, there He was, a soft place to land.
Life has been super busy. My mind even busier. I wonder if I can chop any responsibilities in order to seek quiet. I realize it wasn't so many years ago when although quiet was elusive, it could be found. When I was the mother of all preschoolers, I could go for days and days without ever leaving my house. Naptimes were scheduled, sacred times of quiet. I needed quiet in my life. God was building quiet in my heart.
Now my life is loud. My life moves quickly. Quiet escapes me. Stillness only occurs between 10:30 PM and 6:00 AM. Period. No exceptions. I needed that taste of quiet so I would be willing to stay awake for it today.
Today I can honestly say that even in the midst of creative organization and organized chaos my heart and life is quieter than it was several years ago during naptime.
I'm so glad that when the winds of change blow, my feet are planted on the Immovable Rock.
"I've kept my feet on the ground, I've cultivated a quiet heart. Like a baby content in its mother's arms, my soul is a baby content." (Psalm 131:2)