- The closet at the end of my upstairs hallway is overflowing with shoes that don’t fit anybody in the house. If I don’t purge and organize this closet right now, the world might implode.
- It has been four days since I baked chocolate chip cookies.
- It’s nice outside. I should go outside. I should probably take up gardening while I’m out there.
- The guinea pig cage is stinky. This chore belongs to my sons, but I can’t concentrate when the den smells like wet hay.
- I’m out of corn starch. There is not an immediate need for corn starch, but doesn’t that seem like one of those things you want readily available for emergencies?
- Gastronomic necessity requires I drive to Manchester for an apple cider doughnut.
- The baseboards haven’t been scrubbed in… Have I ever scrubbed my baseboards?
- If there were menus written out for the next couple weeks, I’d feel much more organized. Maybe I could come up with some kind of alphabetized system. A few crockpot meals wouldn’t be a bad idea either.
- I haven’t checked Facebook in, like, twenty minutes. Something monumental might have happened while I was procrastinating – I mean being a conscientious homemaker/writer of words.
- Preparation is the mother of success. I should
- read something
- write some character sketches
- make sure there’s plenty of paper in the printer
- tidy the desk area
- take that weird can of compressed air to the keyboard
- blog a list of things that might distract me from writing
Ever since I was a young girl, my modus operandi has been to grow my hair impossibly long and then chop it all off. Every single time my mother would make me an appointment, she would ask “Just a trim, right?” and I would assure her that, yes, I was just going to have it shortened and restyled a bit. Nothing drastic. A nice, subtle change. And every single time, I would sit down in that super cool pumpy black chair and make my decree: CHOP IT ALL OFF! It is a compulsion. I can not help it. And in recent years, I have noticed that I am this way with a lot of things.
I will hoard toys for my children, and, in collector’s mode, scour yard sales and store aisles for items that will add to the assortment of Play-Doh tools, Matchbox cars, Lego accessories, or games for the Nintendo. The next day (or month, or season, or whatever…), I will gawk at the absurd amount of things we have cluttering up our home and promptly box them up to be rid of them. When I start feeling a bit bloated around the middle, I’ll workout every day for an hour and focus on eating only clean, nutrient-dense foods, prioritizing health and fitness above many other important aspects of my life. Then will come the kickback. I get tired. I sit around. I eat what I want (which mostly includes simple carbohydrates of the muffin and/or doughnut variety). This usually continues until I start feeling bloated around the middle again, then I start all over. Why do I find a new practice or passion, focus on it and only it for a time, and then turn around and drop it like it’s hot?
Back in January, I decided that I needed to practice finding that elusive sense of balance, that mysterious beast that would keep me from swinging radically from one extreme to the other. And since I am really trying to get better about spending time in God’s Word, I turned to scripture to see what it had to say about balance.
Well, just let me tell you something…
I was not led to the answers I expected. I did not unbury any long-lost verses of practicality that promised if I set my alarm for 5:30 every morning I would find the hours needed to conquer my to-do list. No words convinced me that balance was right around the corner if I followed prescription a, b, and c. No, instead, I was led to passage after passage suggesting that, perhaps, I am hunting the wrong beast. Perhaps it is not balance at all that I am meant to be studying, but the stories and messages that will bring me (kicking and screaming) to the ultimate truth that I can not achieve said balance on my own. Nor am I meant to.
This morning, when I set out to learn how to create balance in my life, I was instead instilled with the quiet assurance from the Lord that if I can do the following things, creating balance will no longer be necessary. Here they are:
- Find my focus.
- Seek and surrender.
- Cultivate contentment.
Okay, let’s break it down.
Step 1. Find my focus. In 2007, German research scientist Jan Souman set out to determine if there was any fact to the notion that lost people walk in circles when left to their own devices. Sam and Frodo did. Piglet and Winnie the Pooh did. And Souman’s fifteen volunteers did also when blindfolded and dropped in the middle of a wide open field.
Only when they were allowed to take a peek over their blindfolds at the moon, which hung fairly steadily in the sky for the short duration of the experiment, were the volunteers able to regain enough of a sense of direction to cover any distance. Without that point of focus on which to train their gaze, their movements were random and chaotic, not moving just in circles but in sharp, reversing diagonals and with no apparent tendency towards one side or the other. Similarly, consider a game of chess. If you’re like me, you play one move at a time, and always lose. If you’re not like me, and you have an ounce of skill when it comes to maneuvering those little black and white monarchs across the board, you play with an end game – with a clearly defined result up to which all your smaller moves are building. If that willy, nilly, silly old bear had had the moon, or an end game for his queen’s pawn or whatever, he and Piglet wouldn’t have been wandering quite as aimlessly for quite as long. Follow?
So then, I guess, I have to ask: Where is my focus? On my own plans for this life? My own problems? “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” says Matthew 6:33 (emphasis added). Or how about Philippians 4:8 (sometimes known as the “whatsoever” verse)? “Finally, brothers, whatsoever is true, whatsoever is honorable, whatsoever is just, whatsoever is pure, whatsoever is lovely, whatsoever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”
In a world that sometimes feels so dark and broken, focusing on God first, keeping my eyes trained on things that are just and pure and lovely, feels impossible. But that is Step 1 in our little plan – mine and God’s – and I’m going to give it my best shot.
Step 2. Seek and surrender. It’s human nature to want to be in control, to want to be the driver in our own little life minivans (or Ferraris, if you prefer.) But scripture asks us to do otherwise. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight” Proverbs 3:5-6. My paths straight?! As in, like, German research volunteers wandering in a field straight? Winnie the Pooh straight? Oh, Lord, You do have a sense of humor.
It says in Isaiah 40 that God “has measured the waters in the hollow of His hand, And marked off the heavens by the span, And calculated the dust of the earth by the measure, And weighed the mountains in a balance And the hills in a pair of scales.” If He can do such things, how much more effective would He be than me in fine-tuning a few of my bad habits? He made me, for Pete’s sake, so why wouldn’t I think to ask my Creator for a little help in re-calibrating my foundation? After all, a scale is not accurate if you set it on a soft or uneven surface. If I can seek Him first, surrender the reins a bit, then I will have a firmer, more stable establishment upon which God can work on that re-calibration.
Step 3. Cultivate contentment. “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18. That’s pretty clear to me. I guess I don’t feel the need to add much in the way of exposition. Always, without ceasing, in all circumstances. Okay, got it. Choose happiness. Choose gratitude.
So, you see, what started out as a quest to balance a chronically unbalanced woman (that woman being myself), ended up an unbargained-for lesson that I didn’t know I needed. I’m anxious to spend some more time studying this outline and striving to put it into practice. I don’t know yet if these steps will help me be less of a spaz next time I visit the salon or anything like that, but maybe, just maybe, I’m just at the beginning of a much greater lesson.