White Flag

If you could see me typing writing now, you'd laugh.  Seriously.  I'm one hot mess, and I've got Pax tied to me in his sleepy wrap.  My wild morning curls are what I refer to as happy curls.  They are untamed and reaching for the sky every which way.  I've tried to tie them back into a pieced together bun, but they aren't cooperating.  You get the picture.

I feel like I look like a cross between this...

and maybe this.

I have this crazy vision of having a perfect life.  The kind where you roll out of bed and look Hollywood goodness.  Ready to go for the day.  The kind where all of your kids sleep through the night and wake up in harmony the next morning.  The kind where you can kiss your spouse upon waking up and not taste a hint of morning breath.  That kind of life.

That's not my life.  I'm pretty sure it is not yours either.  Insanely, I still strive for it.  It's like I have this internal drive that longs for that kind of perfection.  I want to worship it.  I put this vision on a pedestal and am ever reaching for it, and I get frustrated every time I miss.

For example, when I got pregnant with Pax, I thought to myself, "This will be the perfect pregnancy.  I'm in better shape this time.  I am going to exercise throughout it and really enjoy this one."  Needless to say, my pregnancy with Pax was beyond miserable.  No one equates throwing up thirty times a day and countless visits to the ER with perfection.  Fail.

Next, I told myself, "This has been a tough pregnancy, but maybe he will be the perfect baby."  Graciously, God did give us a month of almost perfect bliss.  Once we passed the one month mark, we began to have even more trouble getting Pax to eat, and reflux reared its ugly head.  Our peaceful angel turned into a screaming banshee.  Again, fail.

I've struggled with exhaustion.  I've struggled with disappointment.  I've struggled with frustration. I've struggled with depression.  I've decided I am done.  Not with being a parent.  I LOVE my kiddos... sick or not.  I'm done with this longing for a perfect life.  My life isn't perfect now, and it won't be tomorrow.  The moment we get one thing under control something else will take its place.  This world is broken.  I'm broken.  What my heart is really yearning for isn't this idol of perfection that I have made... it's longing for Jesus.  Perfection itself.  

In the chaos of changing diapers, cleaning up puppy messes, tackling the unending piles of laundry, and wiping a toddler's once again snotty nose, Jesus is calling to my tired soul, and I am feeling a tug towards something more.  That isn't a perfect house, perfect family, perfect body, perfect "blank"... He is calling me to Himself.  "Rest in me sweet child," He says, "I am enough.  I am the beginning and the end of everything your heart longs for."

When I give up on my pursuit of making this life the source of my satisfaction and make Jesus all that satisfies instead, I wake up and realize that my life may be messy but it is good.  Really good.  In between the fussy moments of tending to a baby with unending reflux, I wake up and appreciate the warm breath of my infant wrapped tightly against my chest.  I wake up and see my beautiful toddler princess rocking out to her own personal musical in the living room.  I wake up and see my hard working husband carrying the weight of so much on his shoulders but slowing down enough to serve me by unloading the dishwasher when he comes home from work.  I wake up and see that my unpredictable curls are a gift to remind me that life cannot be tamed but is simply meant to be enjoyed for what it is.

One day, when I draw my final breath in this life, I'll begin another where everything that is broken will be renewed.  Perfection will be what is.  Anything less will be only a shadow of the past.  I'll be like Jesus.  Perfect.  Complete. Whole.

Until then, I'll wait.  I will focus on Jesus.  In this beautiful mess, my heart will be full as I rest in His perfection until I see Him face to face.

"O LORD, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it." (Psalm 139:1-6 ESV)