seasons

I’ve so missed writing and sharing the comings & goings here at the Smith homestead on a more regular basis, but some seasons simply necessitate “unplugging”, in many sorts.

Writing, in itself, has always been a sweet retreat for me since I was a youngin’ myself. But even more than that lately, having the ability to put humor in an otherwise crazy, hectic day of motherhood has been an amazing release. If you can laugh about the insanity, it takes away much of it’s power.

The past month has been full of ups and downs. Adjusting to a new place, buying our first home, saying goodbye to Callie, continuing to support Matthew as he launches this new business, and juggling a toddler and a babe has been a lot for this body to handle. For that reason, I’ve unconsciously “unplugged”. Writing has been infrequent. Voicemail messages remain unreturned. My blog reads have been narrowed down to my 5 favorite design sites and 2 family members (a drastic reduction from a list of over 100, a mix of friends/crafters/designers). I haven’t enjoyed the change of pace, as many claim the benefits of such a cut-back can often be. But it’s been a necessary start for me to heal and recover from the many changes we’ve undergone over this past year.

Actually, in many ways, I feel like that healing is just beginning. As the dust settles from having a new baby in February, Matthew starting his own business in May, deciding we were moving three states away in June, frantically packing and arranging to make that happen by August, buying our first home in September, housing my sister for a month, and now having our family somewhat settling back in to “normalcy” for the first time…in a good long while.

Now is when I realized how much “surviving” I’ve been doing, and how little thriving has taken place throughout that process.

Now is when I wonder what it means to trust in a Jesus who feels so distant and inattentive. Knowing He’s anything but that, yet unable to force my heart to believe.

Now is when the fuzzy-warm gospel talk hits the fan and utter dependence on the Spirit to offer hope in extreme exhaustion and moments of defeat is the only comfort.

Many moments recently I’ve thought about how easy my formulaic-Christian days were. When things began to unravel, I’d just pray harder, read my Bible more, DO , WORK , EARN my faith and fuzzy-warm feelings back. I had formed this seamless house to fit my faith into. If a nail came loose, I’d hammer it back in. If the window broke, I’d patch it back up. Who really needs a Savior when I’m pretty dang good at managing the repairs myself?!

When life began dishing out more than I could keep up with over the years, that is when the beauty of the gospel began to come to life. Instead of a house, I was suddenly in the wilderness, where my home building skills were useless. I was suddenly completely, absolutely dependent on Someone to lead me through the inevitable pain and suffering living in a fallen world had to offer. My own stamina to pray more or try harder was gone. Because the storm in the wilderness was a whole new ballgame. Loose nails and broken windows didn’t even come close.

What I’m slowly, slowly beginning to see through the beauty of the real gospel, this total dependence on Christ, is that there is such relieving freedom from all that do-ing. Their is rest to be found in being a child and not a do-er. Like Brighton flopping in my lap to put on his shoes before heading to the park, I can flop in Christ’s lap and let him bear the load of the work do be done. I am simply called to believe and rest.

Resting, in the sense that involves much more “work” than it seems. Resting is much harder for a controlling do-er like me. Doing comes naturally. Resting, trusting Christ to lead me through life is much more frightening and less manageable.

I want formulas. Christ wants faith. I want consistancy – when ____ happens, do x, y & z and everything will feel better. Christ wants dependence in the unknowns. I want to control outcomes – if life is shitty, pray, read your Bible more…and it will all be fixed, right? Christ wants me to rest in the silence and trust the Savior that He is.

Being a formulaic Christian is much easier than being a dependent one. But these days when the formula isn’t working, the rest and dependence option is about all I have in the face of my weariness here at the end of my rope.

Some pictures from our goodbye cookout for Callie….

The Great Mother Hen of the Hall clan, Granny, with her newest great-grandson, Evans.

Callie teaching her nephews some yoga poses

And the many, many “Hall” boys…Brighton’s obsession. Who can blaim him? He has 6 little guys his age to pal around with now! The one name he uses for them all, no matter which one it is, “EliBentonAbeWillCharlie”.