08 October 2014

when progress is slow

As you know, we are moving.  Tomorrow the movers will come and carry all of our heavy stuff.  Movers are hourly though, so we tried to pack as much as we could ourselves.  Our new house is just minutes from this house, so we were able to take small loads and unpack as we went.  This helped a lot.

But then, tonight, it just felt like too much. Like we were not making any progress.  {Untrue.}  Like we would never get it done. {Also untrue.}

I got cranky.  I snapped at Brad and huffed a bit to myself.  I rolled my eyes about writing about stubborn hope.  And then it hit me.  Of course, this packing up a house is a job, but such a small blip in the scheme of things.  Even in my crankiest and huffiest moments, I know its temporary.  But I decided to park on it a minute.  I kept wrapping up our dainty glasses with loads of paper and wondered about why sometimes things suddenly feel like too much, like I am getting nowhere and progress is so slow.

Sometimes it can happen at the commissary when every other item on my list seems to be gone and I spiral into thinking I will never be able to make dinner.  Or when naptime turns into a battle of the wills and I feel like I will never have a quiet moment.  It has happened when I am racing to get to the school on time for lunch with Walker and I feel like I am always late, will always be running behind.

These little lies tuck in and we feel it.  We feel like we are making no progress.  And its not about packing or groceries or naptime or punctuality.  We remember our old selves and we catch a glimpse of that past in our present.  And we temporarily flail about.  Accusing ourselves with the You'll-Never-Measure-Ups and the You'll-Always-Fall-Shorts, we lash out and turn ugly.  We hand out cranky words and huffy sighs.  As the words roll out, we add it to the mental list of our inadequacies.

But eventually, the Truth finds us.  The Truth reminds us that those lies are a trick and the real truth is that our old selves are dead.  Our new life is not about how well we perform, but how well we are loved.  It isn't about getting it all done, but believing that One has done it all.  It isn't about our progress so much as it is about the process.

When the cranky words spill out and you're left to wrap the fragile pieces up, what matters is your next choice.  Do you believe that there is no longer any condemnation for those that are in Christ or do you condemn yourself for your short temper?  Do you reach for the hope that says you are enough--even when you've messed up?  Grasp stubbornly for that Hope, hold it tightly when the lies start murmuring about your faults.

As I finished wrapping our breakables, I sensed a renewal of Hope.  Brad came in and I apologized for the cranky words.

No comments:

Post a Comment