Just. Look. Back.
Dear Nestlings,
I was sitting in our living room a few nights ago when I realized that our decorations were not exactly straight out of a magazine. Or rather, they were, but they were out of more than one issue:
Christmas.
Winter.
Valentine’s.
Spring.
December, January, February, and March.
All of those times and seasons had found a place to stay on the shelves and the walls, refusing to return to their assigned decor boxes on schedule. Particularly in that room, they had mixed together—their hues and themes not aligned with one another at all. Since Book Club was coming soon, I wondered if I should stand up and fix it. Since I was sitting on the couch reading a book, I did not.
Also, it seemed too hard, too complicated. It would involve sorting. It would involve finding the right boxes. It would involve thinking about what should stay and what should go. I wasn’t sure about those answers. After all, March might read spring in a Better Homes and Garden magazine, but outside my Pocatello windows, snow continued to fall. Are we ready for green bunnies that look like they were made from a chia pet kit? Really? Is it time for the snowflake pillow to go?
The truth is, that room reminds me of my life lately. Bits and pieces from phases and seasons have all churned together and the boxes for sorting seem oh-so-tricky to find. Mothering young children, mothering older children, mothering teens and adults. Being consumed with household tasks, seeking work outside my home. I’m not really certain of the transitions I should be making right now or even if I’m ready and wanting to make them.
How are any of us ever certain who we’re actually supposed to be or when we’re supposed to start trying to do the things that make all that future work start happening?
I’ve been asking God about this is the temple, and I’ve been getting answers in interesting ways. On one occasion, I saw nothing of what I personally was supposed to be doing with my life, but instead saw the truth of what a friend was creating with hers. This week, still searching and asking, I got an answer that also pointed in a different direction than I thought it would. It’s hard to really explain here, but I’ll give you the gist of it. It was this:
God was already looking toward me. He was seeing me. And he was waiting for me to look back at him.
I guess the idea was: if I don’t look at God, looking at me and seeing me for who I am, if I don’t hear God, telling me what he thinks of me and the work I am already doing, how can I expect to see those bigger plans for my future the way he would?
Answers in the temple are usually not cut and dry, and they usually mean I have to try harder to understand things. This answer was certainly the same. But the funny thing is, I think it’s related to all that mismatched decor wandering about our house just now.
Because just like I need snow pillows to match my snow-filled sky, I do have an eight year old who likes to cart toys around the house and make craft projects on five counters at once. Just like Easter is happening in March and necessitates chia pet rabbits on my shelves pronto, I also have an oldest child heading out to begin her own life. My life is not sorted into sensical boxes right now and I am going to have to trust that the thing I manage to do in each moment will somehow be okay. And if I can give up on trying to understand it all at once and just look for the spaces God is peeking through to see me, it is much more likely I will find a way to step in the right direction.
Making decisions is never easy. Creating a cohesive plan—even for holiday decor—is apparently super tricky. But I’m going to sit in the disorder and ready my book. I’m going to wait to hear my father’s voice.
He sees a bigger picture than me. And if I look at him, instead of around, and around, and around, I just might get a chance to see it too.
Look at all you’re doing with your lives. I love you.
Mom