So if we had been more transparent the last two decades of our marriage, what would others have seen? A lot of struggle over the issue of homeless children, refugees, and minority orphans. A lot of prayer, a few arguments, and a lot of tears.
Over the past few years I’ve come to realize that I can’t handle it all. I really can’t. BUT, I have discovered the Power of One. One seems so small, but it can be very effective. By focusing on just one thing for the next moment or few minutes or hours, I can make it. I might even make it better.
There’s an upside as well as a downside to being a high-strung, sensitive, Type-A melancholy. The benefits are so great that I wouldn’t trade my unique make-up for my husband’s sanguinity or my daughter’s steady smile or for all the money in the world. And the reason is this: The highs are FANTASTIC!
If I believed it, everything would change — from my thoughts to my face to my hands to my time. If I believed ordinary is extraordinary, I wouldn’t worry about that email that never comes or shake my head over the bathroom scale or bite my nails or snap at my son or hold back from my husband or complain about the housework.
I think I should be awesome every day of the week, that I should always be beautiful and fragrant (in the right way) and patient and wise. Instead, I turn out messy and smelly (in the wrong way) and angry and foolish. But when it comes to mothering and homeschooling and family living in general, there seem to be four reasons to be stuck in amateur hour.