Tonight I hid in the pantry and ate chocolate chip cookies. I just needed a minute. You know what I’m talking about. When you get to the end of a long day, and you just need space, silence, chocolate. Honestly, I debated going to the store for something more delicious than Kroger brand Chips Ahoy, but it was too much trouble. And on a day like today, I just needed good enough… You know what I mean?
We’re at that stage in life Jen Hatmaker refers to as “in the weeds”. We have three children ages 5 and under. It’s kind of like running a marathon… for 5 years. Alone time, sleep, bathroom breaks—these things are at a premium right now. I look at parents who have older kids—bigs—and I am so jealous. In our house, there’s always someone waking up in the night, someone sick, someone scared. There are noses to be wiped and diapers to be changed. There is a steady hum of noise in between shrieks and screams, and cries. It’s enough to make even the most extroverted person on the planet lose. her. mind. And my poor husband, Steve, is an introvert. I can’t believe he hasn’t gone postal on all of us!
I’ve felt lately that life doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Some seasons seem to go so smoothly— things like purpose and calling are clear. During these times I relax a bit and lean back into a natural posture of trust. But lately? These days I feel like I’ve entered the zombie apocalypse. I walk into the bathroom at work sometimes and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Fine lines, wrinkles, dark circles—it’s like I don’t even recognize the girl staring back at me. When did this happen? And that’s when I kind of panic. I’m so old. What have I even done with my life? Why haven’t I impacted the world in a significant way? I should have made more of a difference. At the very least I should have made more money! During these times, figuring out purpose feels impossible. I feel restless. I run so far ahead of the present that I can’t even focus on today. I want answers, but I’m not even sure of the questions.
And then I hear that familiar voice. “I know the plans I have for you. Don’t you remember? Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Does that sound familiar? Plans to give you hope and a future. Have you forgotten? I haven’t forgotten you. I see you. And I always keep my promises.
No matter our season of life, I think many of us are desperate to know that what we do matters. We have value. We are seen. We’re taught from the very beginning that BIG is good and small is at best plain and at worst pathetic. On the days that I find myself hiding in pantry, I try and talk myself down from the ledge. I sneak in and watch three littles sleeping. I pack lunches and backpacks for the next day. I sit in peaceful silence curled up with Steve on our couch. I stop. I breathe. I remember. And I find myself relaxing again back into that familiar posture of grace. And for tonight, that’s enough.
I better run… I think I hear a baby crying.
missihippie 