Sometimes it feels like I’m juggling more than I can handle, and believe me, sometimes I am. The latest curveball are the buckets under my kitchen sink. We are a month away from a total kitchen remodel, so when the pipe sprang a leak, I tried caulking it. It has become more and more apparent that the drain pipe is badly rusted, and the only recourse is to keep 5 gallon buckets under the sink and empty them periodically.
Throw in a moody child, homeschooling, an uptick in our mailing work, various illnesses, my general ambivalence about turning a year older without having accomplished certain goals, and the result is me on the verge of a meltdown.
The past three days, through various scriptures and situations, I’ve started to get a different take on the whole juggling thing.
I am not the one juggling. If I tried I’d screw it up pretty quickly. He juggles. I take baby steps in the direction He sends me, sometimes darting between the balls, but never dropped. It is almost a dance, where I go from one thing to the next, lead by an unseen partner. I am faithful and obedient as I can be, and He controls the chaos. It is not for me to make things happen. I am not the answer, just a small part of the equation.
What does that mean? It means I wash my dishes and empty that bucket without worrying about the other stuff that I’m not doing. It means I continue to read Bible stories and give spelling quizzes, trusting Him to add the increase. It means listening to that still small voice when it tells me to speak up, or love on someone. It means letting go of the stress of not meeting deadlines I set for myself. It means not beating myself up about another year gone by without losing the weight. It means I do what I can when I can, and know that He is faithful.
It means instead of juggling, I dance.