the next thing

God has been teaching me about the word “overwhelmed” lately.

It is a word that creeps into many crevices of my life. I get overwhelmed by the messy condition of my home. I get overwhelmed by the behavior of my 4-year-old who seems to have more stamina for throwing tantrums than I do for disciplining. I get overwhelmed by the number of people to whom I should reach out, or return phone calls, or have over for dinner. I get overwhelmed by the projects that need doing that I will never have time to do in the foreseeable future. I even get overwhelmed at the grocery store by the sheer number of cereal boxes there are to choose from in every size and sugar level.

Feeling overwhelmed makes me shut down. I can't do anything very well when I am consumed by the feelings of all that looms too largely in front of me.

Then lately, there is this thought, that maybe the feeling of being overwhelmed isn't something I should entertain. Maybe it isn't from God. Maybe it is something that has worked against me my whole life in order to see me so stopped up by the daily chores that I would never consider do something grandly outside of myself for the love of Christ. 

You see, I also get overwhelmed by the dreams I believe God might be putting in my heart. Too big, too lofty, too hard, too impractical, too far to go from here, too unrealistic at this life stage.

A message has been echoing through the corners of my mind over the last few weeks, originally beginning with the words of Jennie Allen whose gift is sincerity of heart. The message is to begin by being faithful with whatever is the next thing. 

Don't look down the road at the things I might sacrifice or count the ways I am incapable. Simply be faithful with the next thing. Do what God wants for today. When the thing after that comes along, be faithful with that too. 

When I am overwhelmed by the disaster in my kitchen, I take a deep breath and dive into one task at a time. First clear the table. Then put the food away. Move the dishes to the sink. Wipe down counter tops. Do the next thing, and then the thing after that. After inevitable interruptions occur, return and press on. 

Wouldn't it make sense to pursue God with the same faithful step by step approach?

The next thing might be making a phone call, or it might be sitting down to read a book with a child who dearly craves attention. It might be doing dishes with joy. It might be something bigger like saying yes to leading a Bible study, or it might not.

The thing I am seeing clearly is that faithfulness starts little. Following after God's heart is not an overwhelming task looming before us. It has always been simple, requiring little, offering much.

"Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much..." 

Luke 16:10 

"It is like a mustard seed,

which is the smallest seed you plant in the ground. 

Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, 

with such big branches that the birds of the air can perch in its shade."  

Mark 4:31, 32

swimming upstream

The condition of my house is overwhelming me. Some days I am constantly moving, trying to keep on top of it all. Somehow there seems to be no visible progress made. In frustration, I tell my husband I feel like I am swimming upstream.

It is the feeling I get when I realize that in the time it took me to wash and fold three loads of laundry, three more loads were generated. In the 20 minutes it took me to make dinner, the toy box exploded in the living room and someone dumped and scattered the contents of every board game we own. When I finally carved out an hour to reorganize a disastrous mess of a closet, the rest of the house fell to pieces. There appears to be no recovery.

Four other people living in this home are working against me and my single-handed attempt to keep this place livable. I am working really hard, and getting nowhere. I am swimming upstream, against a really strong current.

Whether drowning in my own home or drowning in the inevitable onslaught of life, I can't seem to get caught up. I know it isn't me alone experiencing this. I have friends who are drowning in mortgage payments or unexpected bills. Drowning in doctor appointments and the responsibilities of home treatments. Drowning in homework and meaningless assignments. Drowning in the balance between work-life and home-life. Drowning in family dysfunction. Drowning in shame over the past, a thing which can not be changed. Drowning in guilt, bitterness, anger, unhealthy thought patterns, addictions that don't help anyone.

Life doesn't need an invitation to beat us down in discouragement. Daily routines take all of the energy we have just to stay afloat. One added accident, crisis, or heartache is enough to sink us.

When I am working really hard and making no progress, I have to ask myself, what am I striving for? Am I really in this exhausted state because I want a cleaner house? Am I drained of energy because there are more tasks to be completed than minutes in the day? The answer is usually that I am striving for the wrong things. The place where I imagine the laundry is finished, the bills are all paid, the children are healthy and sleeping well, and the toys live permanently on their respective shelves, is a place of controlled peace. The problem with controlled peace is that the moment any item in the equation changes I begin to, once again, feel that I am swimming upstream.

God does not intend for us to drown in the waters of life. Actually, most Biblical references to water are intended to be life-giving.

The image of water presented in Psalm 23, one of the most well known passages in all of Scripture, is one of refreshment and restoration. Quite contrary to the image of swimming upstream, it says that God will lead us beside quiet waters. It is a picture of God leading anxious, striving people to a calm and restorative place. A place where life still happens, but we are not using our entire supply of energy to still feel needy in the end.

The quiet waters that God promises are not dependent on my circumstances, or the condition of my house, or the lack of help I am getting from the people around me. He leads me to a place where I can take a drink, and take a breath, and take a moment in the midst of it all. Following Him doesn't change the strength of the current, it changes how much I am affected by it.

Psalm 23 (The Message)
God, my shepherd!
    I don’t need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
    you find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word,
    you let me catch my breath
    and send me in the right direction. 

Even when the way goes through
    Death Valley,
I’m not afraid
    when you walk at my side.
Your trusty shepherd’s crook
    makes me feel secure. 

You serve me a six-course dinner
    right in front of my enemies.
You revive my drooping head;
    my cup brims with blessing. 

Your beauty and love chase after me
    every day of my life.
I’m back home in the house of God
for the rest of my life.

   
Find God, and you have found a quiet pool to drink from. You have found a moment to collect. Beauty and love are the only things chasing after you. And I like to imagine that when I am home in the house of God, the cooking and cleaning is somebody else's responsibility.

my help

School started up last week for Annike. First grade begins the wild world of full day school. Off she goes.

On that first day while she was gone and my younger two were napping, I sat on the couch with my Bible, by myself.  It felt like a small miracle to be alone. I teared up with emotion, and all of the mixed sentiments of the day... worry, exhaustion, gratitude, relief, sadness at witnessing the arrival of yet another year.

That moment sitting on the couch was a healing moment. There was peace in my home, and I was allowed some space in a frantic world to process all of my emotional extremes. The moment ended shortly thereafter as the baby awoke early from his nap and refused to go back down. But in those minutes spent reflecting on our summer, I felt a huge sense of relief that we were exiting it and all the chaos that accompanied it. Summer is a wonderful time of fun and freedom, but we are all ready to have the reigns pulled back restoring some sense of order and routine in our lives, if for no other reason then our ability to once again enjoy occasionally breaking the routine.

At times, parenting three children is one of the most stressful things I have ever done. I can only imagine what it is like to have four, or six, or more. It brings multi-tasking to a whole new level, like trying to have a different conversation with five people at once giving them each your undivided attention. Take any serene moment, and there is an equally disastrous moment unpredictably lurking behind it. Like yesterday afternoon when we were all playing nicely in the backyard, engaged in our respective happy tasks, and all at once one child has thrown sand into the eyes of another child. The child with sand in her eyes is screaming in pain while the other child is rebelling with the knowledge she is waiting to be disciplined. Meanwhile the baby has discovered a nest of ants and is quite literally covered in them. The disciplined child is sent inside where she has an accident in the bathroom. As the meltdowns occur, everyone also appears to be both tired and hungry. Only 60 seconds have passed since the world was a place of calm. Now all is calamity.

It is difficult to know what to tackle first. I find myself just wanting a little help. Why is no one helping me? Why are there suddenly so many tasks to complete and not possibly enough minutes in the day to complete them while caring for these young people? and caring for my husband? and sometimes caring for myself? It is the feeling of being overwhelmed by all of the things that need to be done and the truth that I am completely incapable of doing them all at once, let alone doing them at all.

In that frantic moment I do not remember that God is my help. No, I am too busy being angry that my daughter has peed on the floor while she was having a tantrum, and being frustrated that my other daughter doesn't know how to communicate with me when she is in pain, and being worried that my baby is getting bitten by ants or choking on a pebble because I left him outside. In that frantic moment I succumb to the lies that I cannot do it. I have forgotten the truth that God is my ever-present help. He hasn't left me, or you, alone in the overwhelming present. He has not fallen asleep while we are left to tend to the mess.

I will lift up my eyes to the hills--

From whence comes my help?

My help comes from the Lord,

Who made heaven and earth.

He will not allow your foot to be moved;

He who keeps you will not slumber

Behold, He who keeps Israel

Shall neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your keeper

The Lord is your shade at your right hand.

The sun shall not strike you by day, 

Nor the moon by night.

The Lord shall preserve you from all evil;

He shall preserve your soul.

The Lord shall preserve your going out and your coming in

From this time forth, and even forevermore.

Psalm 121

In that healing moment on the couch, relief flooded me as I remembered that I do have help. There will be plenty more overwhelming moments in my future. But they will be peppered by moments of peace, in which I have space to remember, and hopefully internalize, the truth.

.........................................................

It is ridiculous, of course, to entertain the notion that I don't have any help. Karsten himself has entered the very helpful stage of 11 months old. Below are some photos to prove just how helpful he truly is...

Here he is helping me load the dishwasher...

and helping me sort laundry...

and helping me reorganize the children's bookshelf...

and helping me clean the shower...

and helping me change the toilet paper roll, a favorite task of his...

and helping me dig in the garden, sampling plants as he goes to be sure that they are edible...

And just in case you have forgotten what it is like to live with small children in the house, this video is a reminder. How does anyone ever do it without this kind of helpfulness?