From the moment I get up to the moment I go to bed, I see things in my world that need to get done. Tons of things around my house. From an unfinished kitchen to landscaping to a disaster of a garage. Things at church, not necessarily things that I feel are my “responsibility” as much as an “opportunity for impact”. Things to help others, from “swing the hammer” stuff to helping forge some marketing/image campaigns for those who are just starting out in a new venture.
One of my personal mantras is “making beauty from chaos”. I see so much chaos and my immediate reaction is to WANT to help make beauty from that. I don’t see myself as the only one who can help accomplish that, however, I do see myself as one who COULD help in so many places. I feel a little like Schindler who could have done more to save just one more…
It makes my world of decision making even more difficult. The “urgent” is always calling and the important can get left behind. In this summer where I have fallen into a “Mr. Mom” world, I do find myself (in a positive way!) choosing my kids over the urgent that often calls. However, upon returning to reality, I see the chaos that so envelopes my life.
I am trying to make decisions to say “no”. Just not enough to enough things. I try to set forth little goals in what I want to accomplish on a given day, however, my prayer is often, “Lord, show me how I can live for You today.” That prayer often leads me down unforeseen paths to places of great “calling” yet outside the chaos that eagerly awaits. In a world of praying for God’s preparation, I find that perhaps I’m not totally willing to giving of myself completely. Perhaps my prayer is open to the “whatever” but not centered on the chaos that consumes.
I am a process person, so, I do see much of this as all a part f the journey. As I continue to learn more about myself personally, I find that the “answers” of why I am the way I am help define, but not decide.
And moments ago, I had the perfect title for this post and now can’t remember it for anything.
