"We can do no great things; only small things with great love." -- Mother Teresa
A friend of mine lived with an adorable Southern girl for a while whose signature phrase one summer was, “I can’t be bothered.” I thought it was perfect and adopted it. For years I could be heard saying I “couldn’t be bothered” with any number of things, worthy and less so. Now I’m working on perfecting the inverse— “You’re not bothering me” – and meaning it.
Maybe it’s leftover from years of squeezing driving and working and cooking and mothering all into too-short days or maybe it’s a byproduct of my personality, but I like my plans. Even as a stay-at-home mom and even on days when I didn’t really have a particular place I had to be, I have struggled to remind myself of this and not rush my children. Being home with them in a new place has taught me loads about myself and life and being a mother, and this concept is not the least of it.
Some structure is necessary, but we must be careful to count the cost of too much rigor. What do we lose when we always stick to the plan? And what might we gain if we looked away?
It occurred to me that my irritation at plans gone awry, schedules disrupted, was terribly selfish.
Some structure is necessary, but we must be careful to count the cost of too much rigor. What do we lose when we always stick to the plan? And what might we gain if we looked away?
It occurred to me that my irritation at plans gone awry, schedules disrupted, was terribly selfish.
It was also about this time I realized I had always thought that, if I had just had the opportunity to stay home, I would be so much more useful to others. All those groups at church I hadn’t had time for—I’d finally have the time! All those people I knew I could help if only I had a spare moment—now I could! And that’s not how it went down. I was preoccupied with adjustment, with getting my family settled, with figuring out how to operate in my new world, and it seemed at the end of most days, it was all I could do to accomplish my basic tasks.
This inability to help others started to seem like less a necessary result of my station in life and more a product of my unwillingness to look up. It wasn’t a lack of time or other resources. Yes, energy is in short supply these last few months. Yes, we have some changes on our plate. But so does everyone. I just needed to be willing.
I prayed that I might start to see disruptions as opportunities, and that I might seek out more opportunities. I didn’t have to wait long.
This inability to help others started to seem like less a necessary result of my station in life and more a product of my unwillingness to look up. It wasn’t a lack of time or other resources. Yes, energy is in short supply these last few months. Yes, we have some changes on our plate. But so does everyone. I just needed to be willing.
I prayed that I might start to see disruptions as opportunities, and that I might seek out more opportunities. I didn’t have to wait long.
"Every interruption of the day is a manifestation of Christ. There are no interruptions in a day. There are only manifestations of Christ.” -- Ann Voskamp
Choosing to put my agenda aside and saying yes has meant getting to see a high school friend from Maryland I hadn’t seen in years in my Tennessee living room. It meant an invitation at 7:00 AM, a harried trip to the grocery store, and spending the morning on the couch of a friend who had unexpectedly lost her dad just so she could talk through it and I could offer her the frozen (but seriously incredible) meat sauce my husband had made the week prior. It meant hosting our friends for a night of laughter that healed parts of my soul I didn’t know were hurting. Even though my floor was dirty and I was tired.
Recent interruptions have included long phone calls I didn’t know I needed. Skipping the grocery store and feeding my children hastily-named “banana dogs” (peanut butter and bananas on hot dog rolls) so my daughter could have a leisurely day at the pool with a friend she may not get to see again. It meant finally making time to be a good neighbor. Early morning blueberry picking and delighted squeals of my daughters. It meant piles of abandoned laundry so we could make giant bubbles in the backyard. It meant letting my children stay up until 10:00 so their Daddy could be with them to sing a half-birthday song and blow out candles. It meant watching a friend's children at the last minute, as so many have done for me; a perfect afternoon at the county fair instead of home packing up closets and mulling our impending move. It meant foregoing my quiet time to myself to help my husband with a work project or look him in the eye. It’s meant editing resumes, reading extra stories, giving extra hugs and grace and lying in the bed to hold my five-year-old for five more minutes.
Recent interruptions have included long phone calls I didn’t know I needed. Skipping the grocery store and feeding my children hastily-named “banana dogs” (peanut butter and bananas on hot dog rolls) so my daughter could have a leisurely day at the pool with a friend she may not get to see again. It meant finally making time to be a good neighbor. Early morning blueberry picking and delighted squeals of my daughters. It meant piles of abandoned laundry so we could make giant bubbles in the backyard. It meant letting my children stay up until 10:00 so their Daddy could be with them to sing a half-birthday song and blow out candles. It meant watching a friend's children at the last minute, as so many have done for me; a perfect afternoon at the county fair instead of home packing up closets and mulling our impending move. It meant foregoing my quiet time to myself to help my husband with a work project or look him in the eye. It’s meant editing resumes, reading extra stories, giving extra hugs and grace and lying in the bed to hold my five-year-old for five more minutes.
These acts are so small; sometimes my life feels very small. And this shift comes at a time when my stress is high and my patience is low. I’m pregnant and worried about details of the coming days that I can’t hurry up, single parenting during the week while Daniel starts his new job; my children are growing tired of spending all day every day with each other, and I’m just so very, very tired. Sometimes even these small things have been a struggle, friends. But I have been so grateful for these “disruptions” and the lessons they offer, sometimes lovely, sometimes stinging, but always needed. I find my strength is renewed in this pouring out, even if I thought I had nothing there to begin with.
This is not an argument for always saying yes. I know there are a lot of people-- women in particular-- who struggle to set healthy boundaries for themselves and their families and their time. But that’s not me. After years of being overcommitted, my default answer has been to say no, to protect my family from drains on our time. And while I still believe that instinct is necessary and good, I’m afraid I've been missing out on the enormous blessing it is to bless others, even when we think we don’t have enough ourselves.
When I first moved to Tennessee I found myself volunteering on not one but two hospitality committees. I think I joked to Daniel that God was laughing at me, the career woman, now home and the type of person who would sign up for such a thing. Recently I read a blog post by Ann Voskamp that reshaped my thinking on the importance of these “small things:”
This is not an argument for always saying yes. I know there are a lot of people-- women in particular-- who struggle to set healthy boundaries for themselves and their families and their time. But that’s not me. After years of being overcommitted, my default answer has been to say no, to protect my family from drains on our time. And while I still believe that instinct is necessary and good, I’m afraid I've been missing out on the enormous blessing it is to bless others, even when we think we don’t have enough ourselves.
When I first moved to Tennessee I found myself volunteering on not one but two hospitality committees. I think I joked to Daniel that God was laughing at me, the career woman, now home and the type of person who would sign up for such a thing. Recently I read a blog post by Ann Voskamp that reshaped my thinking on the importance of these “small things:”
“Our actual theology is best expressed in our actual hospitality…Hospitality isn’t for the good housekeepers … hospitality is meant to shape our churches and politics, our work and our schools, our homes and our faith and our schedules and our meals and our lives.”
I can be hospitable even when my house is a mess, even when the laundry is piled up, even when I haven’t been to the store or put on my makeup, even when I don’t have my own stuff together.
“Hospitality is Life with no Gates. Hospitality means if there is room in the heart, there is always room in the house.” -- Ann Voskamp
May our houses always have room.
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