Done: Embracing My Ordinary

Well, we have reached quite a milestone in our house.  We are done with diapers.  Lindsay Jane, true to every stereotype I have ever heard on this matter, potty trained completely, nighttime and all, a whole year before the boys and at least 2 years on the nighttime part.  Isn’t she cute?

I decided to use this time as a teachable moment for the kids.  We ended up donating the diapers to the diaper bank.  There were a lot, one box not even opened.  We talked about how we always had diapers for our babies and that some people have to choose to eat dinner or buy diapers for their babies.  We talked about the money we could get if we sold the diapers.  We talked about how receiving something like diapers might make a mama cry.  That is what struck my Connor.  He looked at me with the sweetest eyes, “Why would she cry?” I explained to him that those tears might be tears of joy, relief, thankfulness and also pain.  It was a lot for a 5 year old to take in, but that’s what made me start thinking about this title of this post.  After all, it is hard for me to take in…and for a completely different reason.

We are “done” and that is hard.  Done having babies.  Done bringing those babies home from the hospital after carrying that precious new life inside me for 9 months.  Done from nursing those babies. Done watching those babies take their first steps. Done with diapers. Done.

That makes me feel, well, done.  I always imagined myself getting married and having babies. Beyond that, I didn’t really think much about what my life would look like.  

I have found myself reeling for my identity.  I have been questioning everything this year.  My role as a mom, wife, friend, daughter, sister, nurse practitioner.  You name it, I have questioned it.  I don’t want to be done having babies.  What does that mean for me?  What in the world do I do next?  I am a good baby mom, but dealing with school aged issues?????  What???  Don’t get me started on how that whole scene has affected my identity.

Oh, how lonely I have felt.  How empty.  How scared.  How sad.  How confused.

“He must increase, I must decrease…. John 3:30”

Isn’t it awesome how God pulls you in. For me, it happened at the ocean.  I learned about my ordinary being extraordinary.  I learned about seeing beauty in simplicity.

We are all ordinary without God.  With him, our every ordinary becomes extraordinary.

It really is that simple.

My ordinary embraced: Mom, Wife, Friend, Daughter, Sister, PNP.

I wrote out each of the above rolls in my journal as I say in front of the ocean.  I wrote out my own affirmations.  I do not do that enough! If you haven't done that lately, do it!  I let God speak to me and wrote down what I felt he was telling me, telling my soul, as I spent time reflecting and listening. 

I want to see myself as he sees me.  He does not see someone who is “done”.  He sees his daughter, the daughter he created for a purpose.  He sees every single one of my “ordinaries” as extraordinary.  He sees them as he intends for them to be embraced, he sees them to their fullness.  I don’t have that birds eye view, but I have the promises he has given me in his word that he does.  When I embrace my ordinary, it becomes extraordinary.  How awesome is that.

How can I embrace my ordinary life event of my youngest potty training?  I can use it as a springboard to teach my kids about those less fortunate than us.  I can listen to what I am telling them and I can be thankful that I never went a day without a diaper for my babies.  I can then pause and stop chasing the next thing, event, purchase, career move, etc.  I can pause and simply be, be fulfilled and used for God’s purposes right where I am.  Not where I was as a baby mama, but where I am as a mom of three little ones who need guidance, direction, comfort, love, discipline, a mama who advocates for them, a mama who learns with them about how to embrace every day, every minute, every breath, a mama who shows them the Lord.

My ordinary life is extraordinary because I am the daughter of a King. My future as a mom, wife, friend, daughter, sister and nurse practitioner are also extraordinary.  

Lord, help me live in each moment, listening, looking and keeping an open heart to all you are doing.  I don’t want to miss it for my own chasing…I want to chase you. And, of course, these little rascals...