The Voice Above the Noise

I've never been too daring when it comes to carnival or amusement park rides.  The riskiest of my repertoire at the annual visit to the county fair was the Tilt-O-Whirl (a slightly more exciting version of the tea cups at Disney World).  It was an older sibling that had convinced me I was able to tolerate the ride and I surprised myself in doing just that.

Years later, after finding myself very comfortable with the  ride, I decided to pass the baton of confidence down to my younger siblings, Brad and Melonie, and coaxed them onto the whirling ride.  They were probably around the ages of 6 and 7, although I can't say for sure.  It was to my complete dismay that seconds into the ride, they both started crying.  I could offer them no comfort and as their hysteria grew, I found fears welling up inside me that I long thought had been conquered.  I'm pretty sure the carnival employee had some sick enjoyment watching the three of us plead to, "STOP the ride!" as we only seemed to go faster.  I never set foot on the Tilt-O-Whirl again.  Even as a high schooler, I was the dependable attendant to everyone's belongings as they went thrill seeking from ride to ride.

Have you ever felt like that in life?  Yesterday I just wanted to shout, "STOP the ride!  I'd like to get off please."  There was nothing unusual about the day, other than my thoughts spinning beyond my control.  All of the regular tasks and demands met my feet as they slipped out of bed to the floor, but defeat was whispering in my ear before I could even get started.

If we listen, there are hundreds of voices telling us how we need to spend the minutes of our day. Outside of the children who have their own agenda for me and a husband who stands to be neglected  in their midst if I'm not diligent in my dedication; there are times when walking through my house makes me feel like I am on a self-guided tour of failures.  There is the scale that tells me I should carve out some time to exercise and it's housed in a bathroom that speaks of negligence.  Piled on the nightstand in my bedroom are books I have planned to read for several months, which reminds me that I have been avoiding editing my own book that hangs in limbo on my computer.  I opened the fridge to make breakfast and faced two pounds of spinach on the verge of decay that I had purchased with the intent to cook and freeze.  And I couldn't help but notice there was the tell-tale indications of a fridge in need of purging.  Breakfast added dishes to the pile that had mysteriously appeared in the night and above the pile, hung a prayer board in need of some updates.  All the while I had been attempting to run Julia to the bathroom every fifteen minutes in the hopes that she would be potty-trained by the end of the week.

The day progressed- if one could call it progress as my kids took on their regular routine of strewing about toys and debris faster than one mommy could instruct them to pick up- and I felt like I was spinning.  I sought a moment of quiet found in no better place than blogging about a God Who is good and gracious to the weary and burdened... but Matthew sought to be fed again and again and Julia sought the attentions of mommy rather than a nap and that pesky dinner hour was approaching faster than usual.

Still, it was nothing that I don't face on a regular day.  The Tilt-O-Whirl was spinning no faster than normal and yet, my head was screaming for the ride to stop.  Why did fear well inside me, then?  Why did I feel like the day, this life, was unmanageable?

Because I listened to every voice, but One.  I had just finished grumbling to myself that there wasn't enough time in the day for me to do anything I wanted to do when it was met with a thought.  There is nothing in this day that God has called me to do that I haven't been given the time to do it in.  In other words, whatever tasks God was calling me to do that day, He was also supplying the time for.  My job was simply to determine those tasks from the additional ones I had piled on myself.  

When days spin out of my control, it does not mean that He is any less in control.  It means that my priorities are not aligning with His.  I re-examined my day, scaling down to the necessities and focusing on what God wanted from my day.  It wasn't a clean fridge, but the spinach was tended to.  He didn't ask of me to potty train Julia, that had been my own deadline set simply because her sisters were trained at this age.  I found calm returning and order restored even among the bathrooms that never got wiped down.

There is a difference between what God wants from my day and what I want.  Too often I want a clean home, when He has asked me to minister to a friend.  Or I scramble after Pinterest-worthy projects, when He asks me to mold my children's character.  Today He said, "Blog!" when I was ready to tackle those bathrooms that have attracted another day's layer of toothpaste.

I'm beginning to realize that God has not called me to be a tidy homemaker, as much as this causes me to panic in my heart at what people will think about this admission.  I'm not saying that I am going to let housekeeping go out the window, but I do need to let go of some of these day to day distractions that keep me from focusing on what I am certain God has called me to do.  I know God wants me to instruct my children in His ways, to partner with my husband in achieving his dreams and to write to inspire.  The rest is just noise that I have to learn to filter or I will face too many more days like yesterday.

What can you say God is most certainly calling you to do today and what is distracting you from doing it?