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Tuesday, August 16, 2016

I Like My Coffee Like I Like My Life: Regular

We live in a world, it seems, addicted to change.

We chase happiness, fulfillment like children in an Easter egg hunt. Dropping plastic orbs in our baskets and scurrying away to the next, letting them rattle in the bottom of our baskets. Plopping the chocolates into our mouths, unwrapping another as quickly as we can.

Never stopping to be thankful. Always looking for another prize.

This is me at my worst. Collecting points and accolades and resume-boosters like seashells. Entertaining for just a moment, just to turn-over in the palm of my hand, before I send them back.

It's been like this for as long as I can remember. At the start of every new season, every new endeavor, I was ready for the next.

When I was a senior in high school, I couldn't wait to get to college.

When I was a senior in college, I couldn't wait to get plugged into the real world.


When I was single I couldn't wait to date a man who loved me.

When a man who genuinely loved me and proved he could be trusted, I couldn't wait to be engaged to him.


And when he finally popped the question on Thanksgiving Day 2014, I was ecstatically happy for a week or two. And then I was overwhelmed with a longing to be married.

I approach every good season with the same hunger and eagerness:

Well, that was fun. But what's next? What's new?

Let's get on with it, shall we? What's the next level to unlock? 

Always in a spell of growing up, up, and up. Never growing down. Always more. Never less. Never still. Always with an itchy craving for the next season, the next job, the next status update.

I live life looking for the next opportunity to level-up without stopping to track my steps and see how good I have it. How far I've already traveled.

I'm not in an extraordinary season right now.

Not really. Life is wonderful, don't get me wrong. I am loved. I have the bandwidth to love and serve others. This is a life of plenty. This is a life to be thankful for.

But then, there's the hunt. The crawling ache for the next season.

There are obvious tells of what our next season should be to a couple who's been married for an appropriate amount of time. Oh, sweet, life-altering parenthood.

And the answer to the question my husband and I get, mostly from strangers, is when we'll spread our lives into that season. When we'll begin to try to be a part of that fraternity of frazzled, busy and supremely loved people who are parents.

That's the next level, isn't it? That's the next logical step.

And for those of us who like to see change and additions and fun parties and Pinterest boards you wish you could hop into with the help of Mary Poppins, it could be really tempting to jump into it head-first.

All in the name of change. All in the name of keeping life entertaining.

But I'm learning that there is an art to contentedness. There's a discipline here I'm missing.

So for now, I wake up. I pull out a dress from my closet. I kiss my husband goodbye. And then I'm off to the office in my little blue car, tracing the same commute, drinking the same coffee, curly hair pulled into the same, chaotic top-knot for optimum concentration powers (amen?) over and over and over.

I'm trying to embrace the regularity of life. To sit satisfied, humbled and thankful. Without the hustle for more, for the next, for the brighter, the flashier, the shinier.


Resolving to stay the same. For now. As much as I'm able. It's hard. I'm not the best at it. But, like my wise friend, Christen says, I don't want to look back and remember these days as the good old days without realizing that's where we are. Right here, right now.

I'm trying to find the extraordinary in every season. Because at one point, I wished for this season. At one point this place where I've arrived is where I desperately wanted to be.

This is what I know:


Any lot, any toil, any broken-down day I've ever gotten through has come out from under complete surrender. Falling-to-my-knees in the shower moments.

And those moments only happen when I feel stuck. Trapped. Like I've reached the end of my rope. Like nothing is changing. Or challenging. And the only way through is by Christ.

Not by myself. Not by more money. Not by more likes, follows, words on a page, promotions, children. The next season. The next Instagram-worthy career. None of it.

And sometimes surrender feels a whole lot like stopping. And being thankful for this moment. For this day. In all of its glorious normalcy.


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Thanks to all of you wonderful, beautiful people who've signed up for my email list and have joined the Prodigal Squad. You guys rock. And for those of you who haven't, we're cool, we're cool ;) There's still time to win a free copy of Shauna Niequist's Present Over Perfect: Leaving Behind Frantic for a Simpler, More Soulful Way of Living. I'll be announcing the winner on Instagram tomorrow! Good luck!




   

   
   
   
   
   

   


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