Ooh…that’s a pretty gripping heading, isn’t it? Well, it’s the sentence that ran through my head the other night. Let me explain.
We were out doing late-afternoon errands. You know the type: Cub, Wal-Mart, pet store, that kind of stuff. Henry went into one store with one child and I kept the other four and made a deposit at the ATM drive-thru. We got back to pick them up before they were ready. The baby was screaming, the 7yo had slammed the finger of the 9yo into some (useful to someone) gadget in the back of the truck. The 9yo was in tears. The 7yo was gritting his teeth for being scolded for exacting vengeance on the enemy. There was bugs EVERYWHERE!!
I got out of the car to check on the baby. That’s when I realized that someone had changed the car seat straps and they were too high. I think it was an innocent assumption that her weight garnered more slack and so the straps should go up. Since they still weren’t back to the car, I decided to fix it. By now, the 7yo and 9yo were the best of friends and played with the baby with the 4yo. I adjusted the car seat straps…and got eaten alive by gnats, mosquitoes, and apparently an invisible blood-sucking vulture took a turn, as well.
When the two came out of the store, they had 2 bags of groceries. They went in for soda. There was no soda. All that time without the mission accomplished.
The humidity was over 80%. The banter betwixt the children continued. The infant was livid to be confined to the car seat and was telling us all. The oldest boy (11) tried to ask me questions about elevenish things. With a baby crying. Really? REALLY?! I sat, staring out the window, just trying to zone them all out. And there it was, whizzing by in my head like the tree we just passed on the highway: “I hate my life.”
Thankfully, I’d put on my armor that day and I knew enough to grab the thought and challenge it. Who sent you? How did you find your way here? What is your ultimate mission in coming? But the thought didn’t answer. It just sat there, staring at me.
So I asked myself, Do I hate my life. And after some very serious pondering I decided that no, I don’t. How could I? I have a great life! A great life!! There are people who pray for a better life and the image of their prayers is my life.So where did that thought come from? Couldn’t be out of the blue. Something triggered it.
And here it is a few days later and I’ve had more time to ponder, a critical step because I don’t need this thought coming back. It needs to be held captive. What I’ve determined is that I don’t hate my life. And I don’t hate myself. What I do hate (and I mean that exact word) is who I have become in my life.
The woman God made me to be and the woman I want to be is not the same person that is living in my life. She is not the person my kids are calling “Mom.” She is messing things up for the way I want to remember my memories. She is a woman who is tired, resentful, and apathetic. I don’t know when she shows up. Somewhere around lunch. The woman God made me to be wakes up with hope and focus and purpose and a joyful song in her heart. But by lunch, I don’t know who has moved in.
But I do know it’s time for her to move out. The woman I am supposed to be wants her life (and it’s a good life). She wants to live every moment of it, savor all the juices, and appreciate all the people surrounding her.
So I am more determined than ever to work on my schedule. There’s only one part that’s critical: putting me back in my life. It’ll be some early mornings to have some time to myself to reclaim the woman who is supposed to be here. But I deserve to live my life. I love my husband. I love my kids. I love my friends. I love my activities. I love my hobbies. I love my life!
Hey, am I on my own here…you ever had these thoughts?
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