Restlessness in Motherhood: No Answers Here

I’m waiting for Cherry Pecan scones to finish in the oven.  It is a good thing to wait.  I have been waiting lately for something...but I do not know what it is.  Maybe I am having a midlife crisis?  I feel a constant stirring to do more, grow more.  

And Yet.

I won’t follow my own rules.  I flit from new thing to new thing.  I read about joyful life.  I read about happiness.  I thank God for the joy in my life: a picnic with friends in the front yard.  Four wildflower beds WEEDED!  Delicious whole food baking in the oven.  Healthy and safe family. Friends who bring so much light and joy.  

But.

Always this restlessness.  Being a mama, I am so filled with joy at the subtle upturn of an early morning riser's pouting lip...and so crazed by the chants moments later of “I Hungry!”  and also “Drink!  Drink!  DRINK!” I beg them, “Please use the magic word.  PLEASE.  The word is PLEASE.” I often hurry my little girls to bed eager to be solo with my husband, or solo period....and then I miss them almost instantly.  I miss the warm skin, the amusing patter of their voices as they learn the world.

I worry about the size of my thighs, belly.  I remind myself as an intelligent adult I know how to change them.  And I do not.  I remind myself as a Christ follower there are things so much more important I could spend my obsessive time and energy and thought on.  

And yet...

So I move forward through my day.  Up early this morning to...do what?  I decide to do yoga.  Maybe outside.  But the yard is still cluttered from our weekend work.  The living room has laundry baskets full of waiting laundry.  I cannot find a peaceful space.  I head to my beloved tiny front porch. It is too small for yoga in theory, it could be just right this morning.


I stand there, soaking in the early morning sounds of chirping, sunlight, the freshness of Spring.  I decide not to ruin the porch’s perfection with anything more strenuous than a cup of coffee.  I make a carafe, grab my bible and a journal into which I can pour my crumpled thoughts and sink into the red glider on the porch to just be.

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