I wrote yesterday about "hitting the ground running" after "carbo loading" on words. Well, I don't know that I actually "carbo loaded" on words, but I was able to take in a few more writing pieces than usual, savoring some articles from The New Yorker.
Dammit, they have the best profile pieces; I could chew on them for days.
But even as I felt somewhat verbally rejuvenated, my words became flatfooted in the face of my first writing project this morning: a to-do list of responsibilities for today.
I stared at the sheet, squirming, literally squirming, away from it. I didn't want to write it, I didn't want to make a to-do list. I wanted to be off like a shot, running with the wind, writing brilliantly, acting creatively, and accomplishing a whole, whole bunch of stuff today.
Make a list? Psh. Sooo not cool.
But the fact that I was squirming made me pause. What gives? I wondered.
What's keeping me from putting my thoughts in order? From prioritizing tasks? Why can't I just write down what I need to do today?
My heart was actually racing and my stomach was clenching while I was not-writing the list.
I put down my pen and pushed the paper aside, realizing that something more important than a list or tasks to accomplish was going on. I was obviously having heart trouble. And by that I don't mean heart trouble as in cardiac arrest, but heart trouble as in my internal vision and focus were off.
I was grasping at the wrong things.Let me explain.
I'll put pictures of my house up eventually so you'll understand what I'm talking about, but it's safe to say that my and The Hubby's house is um...a work in progress. Each room is pretty much half-baked, with enough accessories and furniture to make them livable, but not really enough to call them finished. No curtains, scanty lighting, and few pictures. The walls are quiet, with almost zero ornamentation. We sleep on a bed covered by The Hubby's bachelor comforter. It's clean, but that's about all it has going for it. That and the rip on the bed skirt.
There is no homey wreath on our front door; there is my old car still stuck on our driveway. Only yesterday did I manage to weed the 20 year old flower bed and put $6 worth of cheap mulch over it. At least it's not fuzzy with Bermuda grass anymore.
So where I'm going with this is the fact that every fiber in my being wants to overhaul our joint checking account to buy a bunch of crap that will make the house look better...supposedly. I want to make it such-and-such a way because obviously by doing that, our lives will be sooo much better.
Never mind that it would be mean pushing aside work projects I've committed to do; never mind that we really can't afford to overhaul our checking account right now; never mind that we're actually in a pretty comfortable house; never mind that it's clean and functional.
It's just what I WANT to do.
Make a list? Prioritize projects? What?
My heart was grasping at changing my external environment and not paying attention to my heart.
My heart's cry is for nice things and nice environments and a nice house. And there's nothing wrong with wanting lovely things. But it's the tenacious grasping which often distracts me from the very thing I mentioned yesterday:"The work the Lord has given me to do." See, when I focus on what the Lord has given me to do-- serve Him, love my husband, family, and those I come in contact with, steward my gifts and resources--then there's always enough time to do those things. But when I turn into a tornado, grasping at whatever is in my path, then I become frantic, anxious, and depressed.
Like I was in front of to-do list.
Squirmy.
I come back to something I've been learning since my husband and I got married.When we started working on our house, the verse that continually came to my mind was from Psalm127:1: "Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain that build it." I loved that whenever I was feeling lost or irritable or insecure about what our house looked like or what state it was in (a la peeling, wet wallpaper, scarred walls, and half-finished paint jobs). It reminded me that we had a Chief Overseer, one who directed our paths, and as long as we consulted and followed His blueprint for lives, then we didn't have anything to worry about when it came to our physical dwelling.
It was when we went off on our own distracted tangents that we were headed for confusion and frustration.
I think the same lesson goes for daily to-do lists. When I am feeling distracted and squirmy, it probably means that I'm trying to take matters into my own hands, trying to satisfy a roaring material desire that's cropped up for whatever reason: discontent, insecurity, dissatisfaction, boredom.
But it's when I sit back, breathe a little, and pray, that I can call upon the Lord, ask His forgiveness for wanting to run away from His blueprints, and ask for His guidance and help. "Lord, help me to do the work You've given me to do."
It's then that I'm reminded that there's always enough time to do God's will--whether it's writing, loving my family, cleaning the house, or pulling more Bermuda grass. If not today, then another day.
So I sit down and make my list of what I know I must do today. The rest--the wants, the raging desires--I write them down too, kind of like a prayer, admitting to God what's on my heart. And if there's time and money and resources to do them today or this week, that's wonderful. But if not, I know they're safe and sound in the hands of God and He will provide for what is best for me.
I have my list, but hopefully it's my heart that's in order.
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