Unbalanced

I often despair at how utterly bad I am at balancing my life.  Looking at how my days run, there really isn’t a balance between time with Jesus, housework, snuggle time and real uninterrupted conversations with Ryan, playing with and teaching the boys, school work (correcting, lesson planning, responding to parents, etc), exercise (ha!), spending time with friends and family, and that ever-elusive sleep.  Then I look at the absence of other important things like community service, devotionals, reading (sigh), date nights and a hundred other things I think would make me a more well-rounded—and maybe even worthwhile—person if I could just squeeze them in, and I feel like my life is actually spinning out of control rather than balancing at all.

In her amazingly insightful book, Looking for God, Nancy Ortberg explores the pressure to find balance in our Christian lives.  She says she’s heard people herald the bliss of balance and even tout that it pleases God.  But after attending a Christian conference on balance and trying vainly to fit her life into the conference’s proposed pie chart, she concludes that balance “didn’t work.  It wasn’t theologically correct.  And, it wasn’t all that much fun.”

I’m so relieved to hear her say that!  And I would like to add to her list that I just don’t think we’re designed for it.  I’ve watched Sawyer play with his Mr. Potato Head for literally hours.  He takes the face pieces out, puts them in, laughs, repeats, giving absolutely no thought for anything else.  That’s not balance; that’s focus. I’m constantly amazed at my boys’ ability to truly focus—to give their entire attention to the object in their hands.  What would I gain if I could do the same?  My greatest moments of peace come in those times when I give someone or something my undivided attention, so why don’t I seek those moments instead of trying to cram everything in at once?

Jesus did not live a balanced life.  He went into the desert for 40 days to fast, then left his whole life behind him and devoted himself to nothing but ministry and people for three years.  He challenged his followers that “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” (Matthew 16:24).  When one disciple asked if he could bury his father first, Jesus replied, “Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead” (Matthew 8:22). That’s not balance; that’s sold-out conviction and focus.

So how does that transfer to my life now?  Do I need to leave everything behind and become a missionary?  Or should I at least give up housework to pray more often? J  I’m not actually sure.  But I’m starting to think having a focused, committed life begins with appreciating that life has its seasons.  Right now I’m in a season in which I really can be satisfied with a quick pick up of the house instead of a deep cleaning, especially if it means I truly focused on trying to understand one of Liam’s many epiphanies.  Right now I’m in a season when much of my quiet time with Jesus consists of conversations throughout the day instead of journaling in a secluded place.  And right now I’m in a season where date nights are too rare, but I really enjoy those conversations with Ryan when the boys are distracted in their playroom and it’s quiet in the kitchen for a few moments.  Someday, journaling, reading, date nights, and plenty of sleep (I hope) will be more prominent in my life.  Someday my house may be cleaner because I have been able to give it time.  But that’s going to be during another season—a season that will be wonderful and full of struggle just like this one.  But I’m going to strive not to long for that season yet.  Instead I want to focus on the beautiful, busy, unbalanced season I’m in right now.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
A time to be born and a time to die,
A time to plant and a time to uproot,
A time to kill and a time to heal,
A time to tear down and a time to build,
A time to weep and a time to laugh,
A time to mourn and a time to dance,
A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
A time to embrace and a time to refrain,
A time to search and a time to give up,
A time to keep and a time to throw away,
A time to tear and a time to mend,
A time to be silent and a time to speak,
A time to love and a time to hate,
A time for war and a time for peace” (Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8).

Liam's Rejection

Written last year right after Liam started school for the first time.

The power my three-year old son has over me is ridiculous.  Truly I am the boss, and I can make proclamations "because I said so." But Liam can wound me and has been doing so a lot lately. The problem is that Liam LOVES school. Now this delights me most of the time; when Liam tells me, “I don’t want to be with you right now, Mama. Can you take me back to school?”… I’m not so delighted. And when he declared to me this morning on our way to school, “"Mama, I don't like to go to school with you in the mornings.  I wish I could ride on a school bus," I cried.

Of course, I didn't take into consideration the fact that I was already tired and stressed, or that big yellow school buses are really cool to a three year old, or that riding in the car together every morning to school was really not that exciting to him even though it was special to me. I just felt hurt. Liam was puzzled, but seemingly unmoved by my tears, and I dropped him off at preschool feeling rejected and unloved. 

My irrational, mama-brain was racing with thoughts like, I love this kid more than anything...in fact, I would die for him...and he doesn't even want to be with me!  Our morning drive to school is my favorite time of day…how could he prefer a school bus…BESIDES, I gave birth to him!  Labor trumps cool yellow school buses every time!!!

I am usually much more level-headed and slower to such extreme emotion, but I think the intensity of my love for my ornery three-year-old makes my heart a bigger target for his words’ implications, even when he doesn’t even understand them. He does not know why his silly Mama gets so emotional about school buses; he is unaware of his power.

Which makes me wonder...have I hurt God like this?

I may not be so blunt when I tell God I’d rather not hang out right now, but I do say that with my actions all the time. Excuse me, God, I don’t want to be with you right now. I want to watch one more episode of Bones. Or No thanks on that prayer date, Lord, I’ve gotta finish People Magazine. I am constantly forgetting that God has claimed me as his child, and just like Liam can hurt me, I have the power to hurt God, to make him feel rejected.

Hopefully, I am more like Liam in my response to this realization. I got a call from the preschool room during my second period class. Liam had a sudden, unexplained tummy ache and needed to see me right away. I went to get him and received his lifeline-like hug. He buried his flushed face in my neck, and crying said, “I love you, Mama. I just need to be with you.”

After fifteen minutes of snuggling, Liam’s tummy ache/guilt went away, and he felt recovered enough to go play outside with his classmates. As he ran away without a backward glance, I thanked God for this reassurance of Liam’s love. And I said a little prayer: I love you, Lord. I just need to be with you.

Perseverance vs. Endurance

Perseverance is an active participation in the hardships life throws at you.  Perseverance is a traveling from strength to strength—pulling yourself from one high point to the next by traveling through the low points in between.  Perseverance is facing chemo and choosing to live through it; not just survive, but truly live—finding the joy in a sunny day, your husband’s tired face, your dogs’ enthusiastic greeting, and the first time your grandson rolls over.  It means grabbing the oar when you are stranded in the middle of the ocean and paddling as hard and as long as you can.   

Endurance is just buckling down for the long haul.  It is holding on tight as the terrible winds of life toss you from one storm to the next.  It involves closing your eyes and hoping for the best while singing a mindless tune to block out the noise of tragedy and loss. Endurance is what you do when you’ve decided you must just get through life.  It invokes the nods of understanding from those around you; people think, “Poor dear, so much has happened to her.  Her attitude is completely understandable.” Endurance is a part of everyone’s life at one time or another.  Endurance serves its purpose when you helplessly watch your beloved grandfather be devoured by the evil craving of cancer or when you first hear that your life may always involve the pain and insult of chemo and the longing for remission.

But then you can choose to persevere—moving beyond mere endurance to live a life abundant.  In choosing perseverance, you’ve chosen the life Jesus promised you, and therefore you go beyond incurring the understanding of others.  Perseverance inspires, because it creates a life that is foreign to earthly living.  A life of perseverance is full of love, laughter, celebration and triumph, for a life of perseverance never closes its eyes, never sings a mindless tune and never blocks out the noise of tragedy and loss.  For to do these things, you would also block out the sun, your loved ones’ smiles, your grandson’s first laugh and the small still whisper of God saying, “I am with you.”