free fallin'

my car is my solace. i don't get a lot of time to sit still and be quiet, and i don't really make time in my normal life to "feel my feelings" as they say, but for whatever reason, when i'm in my car, it all catches up with me. i'm notorious (to myself) for crying almost exclusively on my way too and from work. yesterday as i was driving, (actually trying to brainstorm blog posts ideas), i heard a song on the radio- one i'd heard a hundred times, at least (christian stations are so repetitive), but this time the lyrics sort of stuck in my head.

"your world's not falling apart, it's falling into place."

i sang it a few times and felt a familiar tug at my heartstrings, but tucked it away for later i wasn't ready to cry or let myself feel right then.

on the way home, of course, i heard the same song (i told you, REPETITIVE), and the lyrics went through my head. and i thought a little more about what's going on in the my landscape of my life:

my mom's cancer hasn't magically been healed (although her counts are so freakin' LOW it is a miracle- praise jesus!), my husband's condition hasn't gone away and still affects us every single day (but also, so much less! praise jesus on the double!) and my kids are struggling to find a day without any neon green fluids dripping out of their noses or pink eyes or itchy eczema patches taking over their poor little bodies. and me? i am still tired. and trying to just put the pieces together each day to make it to the next.

sometimes, it feels like things are falling apart.

the assumption i had of my life at this point was that i'd feel a little more polished, a little more routine, a little more... predictable and comfortable. and i've had moments- seasons, even- of feeling this way: that i was almost there, if just this one thing would happen or that thing would just resolve itself. i was a working mom, falling into a pattern and routine, getting the hang of this life of mothering and wife-ing. and then, as always, life happened. people get sick. nanny's suck. work changes. the world turns. you know the drill...

and now i actually spend the majority of my days now making breakfast (every meal is almost an hour of making, eating, cleaning), getting everyone dressed, finding snacks, finding and putting my toddlers pants back on, making/packing/feeding/cleaning lunch (my biggest struggle is coming up with some 'creative' idea that isn't corn dogs), finding more pants,  finding more snacks, telling my toddler to put pants on RIGHT NOW BECAUSE WE DO NOT LIVE IN THE STREETS AND THE NEIGHBORS DO NOT NEED TO SEE YOUR NAKED BUM EVERY DAY, kicking my legs free of starving children before dinner, then making dinner, then feeding aforementioned dinner to children that don't want to eat. because they are, of course, full.

basically, i think my life is now consumed with starving children and their pants. it's not glamorous. 

and sometimes, it's not even fun. i can't  always seem to find the joy in my baby pinching my skin between his tiny, lobster-like fingers, or the silliness in my toddler kneeing me in the face as he is climbing up and over my head with his gollum-like little limbs.

sometimes, all the little things that are mundane and repetitive (i haven't even mentioned the laundry mountains), plus all the big things, like sickness and parenting decisions and health all just feel like... SO MUCH.

and then i begin to wonder... what is the point to all of this?

"your world's not falling apart, it's falling into place"....

this is the place.
this is my world, and i'm falling into it.
and that's the actual point.  i'm learning how to appreciate and love these new little things. the day to days, the big things and the little things. the little things like kids being silly and naked and yelly, and the big things like helping clients heal their pain. my little things actually are big things: i'm raising men, people! i'm shaping and loving them into people that will grow up and create the world we live in. and my big things are actually all sort of small things: cancer, family sickness, bills, etc, can all be broken down into small, every day tasks. i can't heal my mom or my husband, but i can love them and serve them and make them meals and hold their hands one day at a time.

so when things fall apart, i want to lean into it and remember that this is life actually falling into place. falling apart gives me the chance to love with grace and mercy despite my circumstances, and that's what God has called us to do- be like him by loving graciously and fiercely.

this is what it looks like to fall apart, right into place: