This is your life

This is your life/Are you who you want to be?

This is your life/Is it everything you dreamed that it would be?

An old camp song that I never really liked, these two lines nevertheless haunt me occasionally and the answers… come.

This is my life…

Gone are the mornings of getting up early for coffee and quiet time before facing the world. I get up pretty early, but it’s as late as my Littles will let me sleep, and I usually get to sip one cup of coffee while nursing one and reading to the other before diving into breakfast and dishes.

Real breakfast, mind you. No more granola or cheese toast. We eat three real meals a day - granted one is usually simple (sandwiches or leftovers), but I cook meals. Maybe it’s our farming heritage lived out; certainly, trying to maintain a healthy diet plays in… Whatever the case, there’s no fast food to which we can resort and much of my time is consumed in the kitchen.

Breakfast done, I hunt for a window for exercise without my two year old using me as a jungle gym. We have to feed our chickens, and potty breaks may take up to 30 minutes. The baby usually takes a long nap, so I can tackle dishes, laundry, and lunch prep, but we wait for her to visit the clothesline because she enjoys sunshine and sticks.

Most days their dad comes in for lunch, then we read stories before naps. I always have lofty plans of writing or scrapbooking while they sleep, but paying bills or doing books for Seth’s shop wins out…if they let me sleep the night before AND they nap simultaneously. It often seems that the day is gone by mid-afternoon, because little girls waken best with lots of snuggles, books, maybe a tea party and another visit to the barn. We come in to fix supper and visit with Dad before beginning a bedtime routine.

And every day has a twist. Those precious mornings for chores sometimes are appropriated to hauling wood or fixing fence. Perhaps we have herbs to pick and dry or flowers to plant in the yard. We might check a water or feed some mineral in an afternoon with Dad, or  even have a ranch tour with Pops (my dad). Sundays we celebrate with church, and about once a week we brave some other trip - to Claunch to the post office, to town for groceries, to Mumzie’s (my mom’s), or maybe we have a bit of company. Come spring and fall, mornings come early and whole days are spent outside with the cows. 

All this sounds wonderful. And this is my life. I am who I want to be - wife, mom, daughter, rancher, homemaker. I am also a vessel needing the power of God to maintain not only peace and patience, but also my sanity…The excitement of interruptions is always balanced by the neediness created when routines are changed. That, and the frustrations of sinners in an imperfect world.

You see, it’s everything I dreamed it would be, and more. I didn’t dream about washing out dirty diapers or staying up at night. I didn’t dream about the impossibility of keeping up with housework or putting all my projects on hold, feeling like I must be lazy, yet too drained to do anything more. And I certainly didn’t dream about the fact that my routines really aren’t routines at all (and this is why none of the sleep training books work for me!). It is a rare day that my plans work out. If Dad and Pops don’t make a different plan, the girls have some complication that takes my time and attention. Which is all fine and good, except…

Unrealistic expectations can become an idol. And when I get frustrated by my seeming lack of achievement, when I get frustrated at whatever drop by mechanic customer, potty training accident, or failed recipe that messes up my plans, when I am frustrated because I can’t be in all my roles at one time - things go badly. I get cranky. I get aggravated at my children being children. I mistreat my husband and grumble at life…Because who I am is a sinner saved by God’s grace and daily seeing my need for it more. 

When I cast down the idols and leave Jesus on the throne, I see so much more than I dreamed! A baby playing with a rocking horse and headband in complete joy. A two year old quoting her books as she wakens from her nap. Happy days in the sunshine as they play in the dirt or cool morning breezes while my husband points out the sunrise. I could not have dreamed of these things because I did not know they could be. 

This is my life. I am who I want to be (by the grace of God, who is making me!). This is my life. It is everything I dreamed that it would be. And more. Except -

It isn’t perfect. The one dream left is heaven, where Jesus is. Perfect.