Anchor

"Our home is becoming more of an anchor and less a place to land. It's becoming the place where our life unfolds."

Peanut and I went on a walk mid-day today. She's a bicyclist enthusiast these days. A little more than a half hour into her ride, she climbed off her bike, laid down on the ground, and started crying "I can't go anymore." (yes, I'm raising drama queens and kings around here it seems)

So, after my attempt at reasoning with her didn't work, I did what every hot and tired mother would. I picked her up and carried her home. Dragging that bike. Holding on to that helmet. 

I read something this week that said let your life be like drinking from a glass of water, not trying to gulp from a firing hose. 

I've been soaking that this week. 

When I feel tired or stretched, I stop and think - am I CHOOSING the glass of water, or am I CHOOSING the firing hose? 

Is our home our anchor or the place where we pause in between the hurry? 

I'm thankful for many of the silver linings from the great gastro madness. One is that our life now unfolds here, in the comfort of our home. 

We made the decision to move Xman from travel baseball to rec ball this fall. To give him time to be a kid. To ride a bike. To play board games with his siblings. To give us time as a family to do something other than drive him to and from ball fields. To remind us all that he's "just" 14. It was a conscious choice. 

As things go, God took it one step further. Xman has an injury and is out of baseball, and his gym, for the remainder of the season. 

We now have some white space that our calendar hasn't seen during a school year in quite some time. 

Sometimes I think we choose to bike far from home, we choose to exhaust ourselves, and then we are surprised when our bodies, our souls, our minds are too tired to come back home. 

It makes me think of that verse "Come to me all who are weary and I will give you rest." I don't think Jesus meant exhaust yourself and stop by on Sunday. 

I think He means come to me daily. Choose to rest in me. Over and over. 

Let me be your anchor, your home. 

Mama Warriors, I joke with my big kids sometimes that they are lucky that I was raised as a 1980's kid. That I remember that the world doesn't revolve around them. That I know how to tell them "no" or "not now." 

That I CHOOSE to let our home be our anchor, and not a place we stop by. That our yard, our living room couch, our kitchen table, our driveway - that in these places, our life slowly unfolds. 

Like taking a sip from a magnificent glass of water. 

You, too, can choose - the glass of water or the firing hose. 

If it feels like you can't choose, take it to Him in prayer. Come to me all who are weary....................He will anchor you.