Heartburn.

It's been over a month since I've written a post.

I keep waiting for the right moment. The inspiration.

It's almost peaked, several times. I jot down notes on sticky notes. Attempt to sit down and life goes off.

I feel the pressure to write all the time. I just pause for discernment and want everything to be genuine, so I try not to rush the process.

Is it too much about me? Does it need to be more about God? More focused on motherhood and marriage? Ugh. Seriously, what should I write about?

I haven't been blogging long. 

 

I do know that I'm looking at this calendar year so far and I'm like: what? Really? 

Things are so odd. My children are changing so rapidly--I'm caught off guard. My marriage feels like I look over and see myself and my husband: stuck on a boat. We've got on our life jackets and we're paddling. But, the rapids keep coming, so there's not much time for chit chat. He's over there manning his side of the boat. And I'm maning my side. 

My job is the tire on my car: there's a hole in it. With the changing pressure of the weather, it starts to deflate. I just pump it back full of air. It's fine, gets me where I need to be. Only to see it lose air, again and again. The outside world is a circus. You know there is a net to catch the trapeze artist when she falls--but you gasp anyway. I'm clinging to that life jacket.

I get heartburn. 

I take medicine for it everyday.

When I don't take it, I can totally tell the difference. 

When I bend over i feel the burn. Hot. In my throat.

It catches me off guard. Uncomfortable. 

 

I pine for things.

Financial security. Weight loss and athleticism.

A passionate marriage. Enthusiastic parenting.

Artistic release. God's providence and the feeling of "knowing it."

I make resolutions. Restitutions. Lists. Write journal entries and blog posts and monologues and statuses on Facebook.

I pray and breathe and wish for the same things over and over and keep the same habits and can't slay my dragons and the tire is still flat and the paints and brushes sit in the closet and my kids watch way too much Kid's YouTube and I'm trying to figure out what makes my husband happy--really happy, and I have no clue and the waves are spraying and I'm totally soaked and I'm looking at my friends and family and I'm dreaming into the distance: be still.

I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.  Romans 7:15-20

I, like Paul, have heartburn.

I must change. To reach my perceived state of happiness--I must change. But, I know that if I fail, there is grace. God knows what's inside me. He knows my heart. So, whatever I do: fail or otherwise, I am still loved. 

 

It's ridiculous.

So. I am trying to change--those things that won't let go. Those things I know I need to conquor. To be truly happy. Yes?

I've already got joy, so I'm good.

But, what level is above that? I want that.

God's ultimate. Uber. Me. Doing things. Changing things.

Yes, me.