The flu makes me emotional. Partly because I am a champion pity-party-thrower. Partly because... well I have no idea why. But I do know that I laid in bed for a shameful number of hours watching the 2nd season of Parenthood on Netflix and bawled like a baby.
While watching the aforementioned shameful number of hours of Parenthood, I realized that I am going to sorely regret the lack of documentation I've been making of the life of our sweet little family.
I think I get too caught up in needing to write something really meaningful. Or really witty. Or really wise. And so I don't write. Because who can live up to that?
But what if I could actually get myself to believe it's not about that. What if I write something just average? Would that really not be okay?
What if I write just to remember?
If I don't write things down, life will get hurried, and I wil forget. I know this about myself. That is why I write the silliest little reminders to myself -- like the huge note I taped to the door that said "TAKE PICTURE" so I wouldn't forget on the kids' first day of preschool this month.
(Sidnote - have no fear, Matt finally agreed to get that sweet boy a haircut the next day.)
I mean, one would think that it would be impossible to forget such a thing, but trust me, I'll forget. And I know that no matter how I tell myself I'll never forget what Molly's bed-head looked like that one morning, I'm going to forget.
And as impossible it seems that I could forget the sweetness of finding Owen in his bed, tuckered out in a pile of trucks, wearing the beloved cowboy boots - I know that it's these sweet, small, seemingly insignificant moments that will fade the fastest.
So I'm going to write. I'm going to write to remember. And I'm going to write because it will be good enough. It will not be the greatest, the wittiest, or the wisest. But you know what? I'm okay with that. I think I'm finally okay with that.
I'm doing a Bible study written by Beth Moore on the book of Esther. If you've never gone through that study, I cannot recommend it enough. But one of the lessons really broke my heart open more widely than the others (and that's saying a lot).
This particular day in the study really spoke to the perfectionist in me. The me who grew up making good grades & doing well in sports... and then went off to college & beyond, and started living in the real world where there's always someone who runs faster and thinks deeper... and suddenly being "great" at something required being "perfect" at everything.
And, well, that's really hard.
And somewhere along the way, I started believing that if I wasn't the greatest at anything, then I wasn't truly doing anything great at all.
And then I read this from Beth Moore, totally unexpected and perfectly timed, in the middle of the study on Esther:
Christ summons the disillusioned to the paradoxical bliss of spilling life lavishly, sacrificially for the glory of God and the good of man. Those with presence of mind and semblance of health are called to pour out the drink offering of their lives until the cup is overturned and every drop of energy slips - perhaps unnoticed, uncelebrated - into the vast ocean of earthly need. The last imperceptible drop of your well-lived life will sound to the hosts of heaven like a tidal wave hitting the floor of the Grand Canyon.
In effect Christ says, "I'm already great enough for both of us," relieving the willing of their woeful burden. "Just follow Me."
So, here we go. Whether it's writing or cooking or laundry or whatever. I'm not here to be the greatest. I'm here to follow the Greatest.
Phew, that feels better.
Quote taken from esther by beth moore, p. 173.