back roads

i drove the back roads home from the coffee shop i used for my morning office. i listened to melancholy music to match the rainfall outside and realized how comfortable i am with sorrow. not that i'm comfortable with the events that bring the sorrow, but i've experienced enough of it to call it familiar. we are intimate companions although i wouldn't call us friends. 

i passed a small farmhouse on my way home. it had smoke rising from the chimney which seemed odd for a 65 degree february day, but then again, a 65 degree february day seems odd in and of itself. 

i passed lush green pastures that i noticed simply because i know they'll disappear before too long. i noticed the well-rooted trees that used to give shade to the cows. the split-rail fence marking off acres and acres of land. 

this area is growing. but why does growth mean destruction? 

why do we take it all away and start over?

have we forgotten how to come alongside the land as well as the people in it?

why do we so readily believe the lie that newer means better?

newer also means a lack of history. 

and what kind of b.s. is that?

some places turn into no-places because we remove the place-ness from them. we remove the history. 

we've forgotten how to live with other people in physical spaces. what's mine is mine and what's yours is yours and we'll waste away inside of our self-made isolation.

we've bought into the american dream. you know the one. the lie that easier means better and stuff means happiness. that looking the part is more important than reality. or burn-out. or sleep. or health.

i tucked my 3 year old in for her nap after lunch. at this point nap-time is really more for me than it is for her, let's be honest. 

because i get overwhelmed every day. every day. that's no exaggeration. because i want to do life well. i want to walk closely with Jesus. i want to love my husband and my children well. i want to parent well. i want to do my job well. i want to write well {and more}. i want to have time for exercise and time for more creativity and for all of the things i love to do. i want to have real and authentic friendships. i want to shine a light in the dark places. 

and every day i try to take that all on by myself. i try to be all of the things to all of the people. and i end up focused on myself, exasperated with my kids, failing to measure up to any of the metrics i've set for myself. 

every day i need the God-given nudge: it's not up to you. your worth doesn't come from what you do. 

you are made in the image of God. you are worthy because he made you and he says so. 

the metric of the divine is grace.

but how often do i forget? 

xoxo