All tagged #ilovemyordinarylife
This is a book for any woman who has reached midlife and wondered, Is this . . . it? I thought it would get easier. I thought I would have more figured out by now. I always thought life would be more beautiful than this.
It just means we are living a LIFE.
I’m realizing now as my kids grow up into the unique people they are meant to be, they also grow a little bit AWAY from me. I’m not their center but orbiting somewhere in the periphery. And that’s okay. That’s where I’m SUPPOSED to be. Motherhood isn’t the only thing about me!
None of it feels shiny! And it certainly isn’t perfect, but it IS beautiful. Life happens in the ordinary after all!
This is how I want to live the rest of my days—listening to my body. Moving her and feeding her and caring for her. Stopping whenever I need a rest. Noticing other people and flowers and blue skies and sunshine and dogs. Simply marveling at the world.
THIS it seems, is life. And ever-so-slowly I am beginning to understand that contentment is simply our best attempt at the beautiful ordinary living of it.
It definitely isn’t glamorous, and I will probably spend the entirety of most days wondering if I am doing anything right. Nonetheless, I am delighted by my life.
Maybe He always meant for me to do motherhood as an imperfect human attempting to raise other imperfect little humans in a world full of trials and tragedies.
There is so much to do, yes. I know so often I’m moving too fast. But I don’t ever want to be too busy or stressed or distracted or overwhelmed that I forget to notice it all as it passes.
Won’t you grab my hand? Let’s decide to live and breathe and work and love wherever God has placed us. And let’s share our one precious, beautiful, ordinary life . . . together. I’ll be me. You be you.
When the marriage ends, when the child dies, when the terminal diagnosis comes, when war is declared—what people long for is ordinary.
I turn to the pile of backpacks on the floor. Markers and artwork scattered across the counter. Cartoons calling from the other room. Another stack of dishes piled up in the sink.
The beauty will be there regardless. It waits patiently for me.
Because high school sports (and so many parts of life, in general) are lots of fun until they’re NOT. But even when they’re not, we’ll be there.
I may occasionally wish for a moment or two that I could step into those seemingly picture-perfect lives that surround me. But the truth is, I love this life. THIS one.
Somehow, when I stopped striving and pretending, a beautiful life of connection and love and faith had room to emerge. And now I know.: “Perfect” is pretend.
