Thursday, July 30, 2015

Number my days

I have trouble forming sentences these days. When you're up all night and your mind is working 24/7, it doesn't quite function in the same way as it did before-and that's okay. It's working how it's supposed to right now. So bear with me--I am talking to myself mostly. I would put it in a journal, but I would misplace it so it's here for now...

This verse keeps coming up recently. And it has become painfully obvious that our days are numbered over the past few weeks. No matter the age, we aren't promised tomorrow. How am I living today? 

For me it's a reminder to choose joy when I'm soaked with spit up-knowing that sacrifice and service of the "tiniest of these" is a gift that yields literal dividends in smiles and snuggles that make the heart swell.  

And no matter how messy my house or hair is, I am making space for what's most important-which means there's no room for regret, fear, bitterness or envy. 

So as much as I want to cling tight to the imaginary reigns of control, there's wisdom in knowing I can't hold back time or speed up sleepless nights. I can only hold my hands open and heart open--inviting my people in to do life even when's it's not pretty. Because those who know you and love you at your messiest are your people. 

And last week, I lost one of my "people." Someone who listened to a young mama and cut through the surface level facade to allow me to be real. We couldn't be more opposite in so many ways, but it didn't matter because she spent time with me--really hearing my heart and sharing hers too. 

So my goal is to be like this "Mary" in my life and quit trying to be Martha. Trading Better Homes for better relationships--lived with eternity in mind. 

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