I really should explain. I used to be here so frequently, almost daily, and almost always in the early morning. But, if you are gracious enough to come by here often, you know I haven’t been keeping up this Fall.
As we’ve started officially homeschooling this Fall, the added responsibility of actually having to tell someone at some point what I’m doing with my kindergartner has slowly crept into my little sliver of writing time. There are a few other dotted lines where I signed my name back in August and all those dots have connected to mean a pretty packed day.
So, my little half hour between Bible reading, making Jason’s lunch and beginning the morning with the munchkins disappears most mornings.
I do miss being here. And I’m praying about how to be here more. But, in the meantime, thank you for grace and for coming back to visit even if I haven’t visited for a few days.
Really, homeschooling is a lot of me-schooling, me slowly learning how to better love and relate and live with these startling gifts the world calls, ‘kids.’ I am so thankful for the opportunity to be at home with them each day and would hate to have to imagine it any other way.
But with every gift, to grab hold of it, you have to let go of the something else you were already holding.
Me? I’m facing the fact that I’ve only got two hands. And if that’s all that the Giver gave me, then He must think it’s more than fine to only have two hands full of responsibility.
It really is both humbling and breath-taking to be human.
On one hand, to be able to do so much. What? I have a heart that beats steadily each second without my noticing? I’ve got nerves and toenails and pupils and a million other parts that all do their part and let me do so many things? Are you kidding me?
And on the other hand, to be so limited. To see the days pass by and know that if 70 years is a very full life, then I am nearly middle aged. To know that I can’t have the marriage and the kids and the career and the ministry and the friendships all at once. To know that I can only do one thing really well, really Jesus-focused well, at a time. To settle into the boundary lines God sets.
But Carolyn’s been singing Psalm 16 and we remember together that God always drops the boundary lines in pleasant places.
So, I take this change and challenge as God’s pleasure and pray that I’ll please Him by loving where He’s placed me and not longing to be someplace else.
Hopefully, I’ll find a new rhythm, but until then, thank you for grace.
Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup;
you make my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:5-6