As I sit here to write again with a chocolate chip cookie in my hand, I’m kinda bummed. Did anyone even care there was no post last week? My mother and the hubby were probably the only ones who noticed. Not that this is the reason for my downed attitude. Writing is fun, but I have allowed myself time off before. It’s just been a difficult few days. It’s no ones fault but my own. I am sure it’s perimenopausal mood swings, and a poor diet, and my stubborn attitude, and a hardened heart, and lack of sleep. Yeah. Yeah. I’m going with one of those. Hold on while I grab another cookie. No excuses. In true Taylor Swift form, I take all the blame…. “I am the problem, it’s me.”
However, this self pity party must be looked at further. So, sorry, you’re about to get a journaling session to assist my attitude. Maybe it will help you, too. In addition to all the above factors (which I really do attribute to many of these days), I think the base of my “funk” is frustration. Frustration at the fact that I am not where I want to be. Oh… I want to be HERE, believe me… this is the dream that has been perpetuating in my head for years now. I have it. There are chickens in my living room as we speak. Bucket list check. My kids are relatively healthy and content. I am happy with my relationships, and at a good place with friends and family. God has blessed me with much, and I am thankful. But the world is an evil place.
THIS IS NOT WHERE YOU WANT TO BE…
You see, us middle aged moms have an ugly side that creeps up beside us and whispers that this is not the right place. Those cute Southern mothers with their summer dresses and flowery front porches have it better. Those enterprising working moms with the great ideas and smart business plans have it under control and got all the lucky breaks. They are going to make it big. Those fit cowboy mommas out West who have the perfect veggie gardens and can still look good in tight jeans are seeing the Northern lights when all you get are cloudy nights filled with mosquitoes. They still wake up early enough to make perfect sour dough, too. That creepy voice tells us that despite where we are… it’s not where we need to be. Social media drives us to want it all. My head tells me it’s not true. Our hearts wish for bigger and better though, don’t they? Even if our motivations are good… we easily get sucked into the void of comparison and contrast. This church has better programs. These mission groups are seeing more growth. This couple have great Bible studies in their home. Now that guy can sing. How patient is that mom?
So what is one to do? I’m sure a few of you are going to say get off Social Media and avoid the temptation and FOMO it brings. Realistically, we are bombarded with it everywhere… even my grocery store tells me I need this or that. Shall I hide here in my little country home and simply hang out with my chickens more? As much as I wish that would work, I know my family would disapprove. The extroverts in my life tell me I need to be more social. Perhaps a deep colon cleanse and less cookies. And don’t start with the fresh air. The windows are open. No, I think what I need is more tools in my toolbox. Let me explain with a little story:
We have had a lot of rain in recent weeks. The rain makes the grass grow. We have a lot of grass. We have a riding lawn mower. The riding lawn mower died. Bless his heart, the hubby watched hours of YouTube, ordered the part, spent many brain cells pondering and configuring, dirtied a complete outfit in the (again) rain to repair said broken riding lawnmower. Hooray! Until another part on the lawnmower died. This time we are sending it out to be fixed. Our grass has grown again. You see, if you don’t have the tools to deal, then life gets overgrown and frankly, a little messy. I’m seeking the tools I need to keep my attitude cut short.
“Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else, for each one should carry their own load.” Galations 6:4,5
“There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but the same God works in all of them. ” 1 Corinthians 12:4-7
God’s kingdom is so much bigger than my tiny toolbox of gifts. I have tools. I am good at using the tools God has given me. Still, I easily get frustrated when I don’t have the tool I need “fix” where I am at. And that’s where other people come in. I need encouragement. I need to hear good words and challenging motivation. I need compassion. I can take pride in the things that I am good at… and seek help when I need it. I need to communicate those things clearly to the ones who can give me the help I need… when I need it. Sometimes a whisk is useless in the garage… but it is perfectly useful in the kitchen. Time and place also play a roll here. “Tools” are used most where they are needed, and when they are needed. Heaven forbid you misplace one of those tools! Make sure you take care of them and keep them safe! (ever lose a pair of good scissors… then you know what I mean!)
We are learning that taking care of a big property is like living … it takes the right tools to keep it from getting too much to handle. The vines creep in, the pool gets green, the laundry piles up. Sometimes you don’t have the right tool to do the job. You need to borrow one or develop it enough in yourself to get the job done right. It needs to be ready, with battery charged, for when you need it most. That means you gotta take care of it, and put it back when you are done. Allow that battery some time to recharge. Then it will be back at it and ready to do the job, and do it well.
Be proud of your toolbox. Seek to borrow one if you must. Don’t forget to return the favour when you need to, and be sure to take care of all the rusty ones who require a little love. Above all, take lessons from the most valued Repairman, who could post a billion YouTube instruction videos on how to keep life free from all those breakdowns. He’s got the ultimate toolbox. Feel better? Yeah, me too. See you next week, my beloveds.
Oh friends! Have you heard the saying “It’s all in the details?” I’ve been feeling it this week. All the tiny things that have added up. Perhaps details are not the right thing to describe all those little nuggets of the day to day that need to be done but just eat up time. Mother’s day weekend has passed and we’ve all heard the stories of moms who need a break from all the things they do all day… and it’s true. My Pinterest board is loaded with things I’d love to try but never seem to get around to. There always seem to be dishes to do, or laundry, or a meeting, or a stupid walk for my mental health…
It’s not that I am bitter about it, it just seems to be fact that there is always some little thing. A form needs signing. A call needs to be made. A shelf fell down in our bathroom. It sat for days on the counter while I found proper hooks and measured and stuck it back up. It’s more than likely too high, but I am not fixing it again. Even tonight, a belt broke on our riding lawnmower, and the hubby had to hook it back up (with much fiddle-dee-dum frustration I may add to get it all aligned and working). It was a task that seemed to take way longer than it should. A hook. A lost button. And don’t forget to feed the dog. Empty the dishwasher. Is it me? Am I so disorganized I never seem to be up to date? Or is that just life?
Speaking of life… that comes in little things, too! If you have been following mittonmusings for any period of time, you know that one of the goals, one of the bucket list items, one of the long sought after tasks were chickens! WELL THEY ARE HERE!! Six beautiful little babies arrived on Thursday. Even then, there were tiny glitches. They were supposed to arrive on Tuesday, but the hatchery didn’t get orders and so we were postponed a few days. Don’t ask me what happened to the day old chicks that were born on Tuesday?! Maybe I don’t want to know. Anyway… teeny little peepers are now running around my living room (well not literally running around, but they are contained with lots of space in my living room). Again, they have been an example to me of tiny details making all the difference. They each have their own markings and personalities and have grown so fast in less than a week! Tiny wing and tail feathers are starting to show, and their legs and necks are stronger than the day I brought them home all snuggled together in a cardboard box. I am beside myself with joy. So is the dog. Beside himself that is, I dunno about the joy part.
Six baby Chicks have Arrived!
Even my momma robin nesting in the barn has chicks now! Tiny buds are sprouting in my flower bed. Thousands of tadpoles are lining the edges of our pond. The mosquitoes are returning, too. Billions of tiny things are springing right now! What are some of the small, seemingly insignificant things you have noticed in your world today? Have you taken the time to seek them out? Or are you feeling the crunch of all the details in a different way?
I suppose, therefore, it is ones perspective of the details, or “little things” that produce the outcome of our emotions behind the events. Do we struggle and feel overwhelmed that there are too many little things that need to get done? Or are we patient and take one thing at a time and enjoy it ? Savouring the details like fine wine. They say that the easiest way to eat a giant elephant is one bite at a time. And so it is.
As I ponder these things, I am reminded about the story of the mustard seed. Jesus explained that even if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can move mountains! I’ve been looking at our property … and we are learning there are a lot of details in maintaining such land… not to mention an old house and a bunch of creatures. I can easily get trapped in the frustration of pride, jealousy, anger etc. that the world view puts on home ownership. Keeping up with the Jones’? Ha! Let’s just focus on getting the grass cut. Of course, I want to have the beautiful gardens and whimsical bunny hotels and bird baths, but these things take work (and cash). Should I be so focused on the big picture? Or is God asking me to eat my elephant one bite at a time? Is it possible to have all I want in under a year of living here? My guess is that it’s not going to work out that way.
Let’s go back to that mustard seed. Perhaps my theology is all wrong in my comparison between faith and house chores. Maybe I shouldn’t compare earthly things to heavenly. Yet the tiny mustard seed… in fact all the seeds I have been looking at lately… are an example to me of how much potential are hidden in the small details. An acorn becomes a mighty oak. My little peeps will grow and produce eggs soon enough. The surrounding farmer fields will soon be higher than me. Things around here will get done, eventually. I have faith. I read somewhere that the meaning of the mustard seed is that our faith is only as strong as the One it’s placed in. And my faith is in a great big God who has blessed us with Itsnotta Farm. So many prayers of petition went in to moving here. Prayers for not only the physical, but that we would do God’s service here with this space and for this time in our lives. It’s an adventure I asked God for. Therefore, I am confident He will see us through it… and all the details that go along with being here.
I’m feeling like this post is a little convoluted. My A.I. assistant is going to tell me I’m not fluent and should “create headers to make my readers understand my message better”. Another detail to worry about. So, you’ll forgive me if I am just throwing you in my messy musings without clear and concise thoughts and conclusions. After all, I am trying to eat an elephant over here this week. Perhaps it will taste better with some mustard.
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“I wanna go home!” is usually shouted by a frustrated five year old who isn’t getting their own way at school, or the mall, or in the drive through. It’s usually accompanied by a stomp of the foot and hand clasped in tight little fists before angrily shoving them on teeny little hips. This phrase can also be heard in a quiet whisper to a extroverted husband by his very introverted wife at a social gathering where she knows very few people and is going on entirely too long. Or the awkward teenager who can not stand one more minute with nosy relatives on this family vacation reunion thing that they didn’t want to go to in the first place. Insert eye roll and retreat to the car for “quiet time” (i.e. texting random friend who wasn’t invited).
“I Wanna Go Home!”
Home. I’ve thought a lot about it over the last few years. We uprooted our children from their childhood home to move out here. The hubby has moved several times. What’s home for him? Is it “stuff”? Is it the people who live there? Is it your experiences in a place you are familiar with? You know the back roads and how to “get home” quickly when there’s traffic. You can wear whatever you want at home. You can dump all your stuff and kick off your shoes at home. What makes a house a home? How would you define it?
I moved my bunnies into their “new home” today. Baby chicks are coming soon and the bunnies needed to be out in the sunshine, on green grass after a long winter. So off to the bunny run they go. It was interesting to watch them sniff the familiar and “mark” it as their own with cheek rubs. I wonder how they will adapt to the unfamiliar? Will it make them nervous and stressed out, or will they be curious and embrace the change? Will all three get along now that they have bigger space? Time will tell.
Getting the New Bunny Home Ready
We’ve been at our house for almost a year now and some days it feels just like home. On other days I am overwhelmed and unsure of what to do next. Does “creating a home” mean it’s decorated perfectly and all the paintings and pictures are up on the wall? Or does it simply mean having a comfy bed to crash in at night? Perhaps that’s different for different people. Many folks never sleep well when they are away. Still others can “flop” on anyone’s couch as they pass through. Maybe age has something to do with that, too.
Home. I’ve been sharing about my new robin momma on social media. She has built her nest in the corner of the barn. Most days she flies out and up to the nearest tree when we walk by. I don’t think she is quite confident in her new home not to retreat to safety when someone gets just a little too close. I don’t think there are any eggs yet, so she may be a bit more diligent in “staying home” when there are kids to take care of. I’m told birds build nests when conveniences are nearby… food, water, protection. Perhaps those are things we look for in what makes a house a home.
There’s a lot to muse about with regards to this idea of “home” and why we want to go there. Safety. Security. Familiarity. The people we care about are there. Treasured items are displayed there. There is comfort and peace among the things and the people you host when you are “home”. I recently read that your home is a reflection of who we are… and even who we want to become. It’s deeply personal. Which accounts for all the emotion behind “I want to go home” bottled up in that five year old’s display of assertion.
…Welcome Home…
These thoughts have come during an emotional week for me. My beloved and dearest aunt passed away, and we celebrated her 97 plus years of faithful servant hood to the Lord before laying her to rest on Saturday. She was surrounded by those she loved. She was witty and kind and sharp as a tack, but her body couldn’t keep up with her. In the end, it needed help from medical intervention, but her heart “longed to be home”. She hated that hospital bed. “I want to go home” she’d say with all the verve of a stubborn five year old. I know that this statement partially meant her physical home, with the familiar and safety of her things; but so much more it meant her “home” in Heaven where her heart was. Her life was a reflection of her “Heavenly Home”… where all her prayers would finally be answered, and true comfort and security was in the arms of her Saviour. We have the hope in knowing He met her at the door of her mansion, and with a smile on His face, said: “Welcome Home”.
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