The Journey

Life is not a competition.

If it were however, I could measure myself by my weight, pace per mile when running, number of kids that I have, choice of education for my children, our household income, the size of our home, and how many tropical vacations we've been on in the past 5 years.  I could judge my success by how well behaved my children are when we're out in public, by how "healthy" or "gourmet" I can cook, and by whether I have the latest style handbag hanging on my shoulder.

On a more serious note, if life were a competition, I'd pay close attention to how many times I've cried this month, how many times I've yelled at my kids and whether I'd volunteered enough of my time for selfless endeavors.  I'd wonder if I had put enough effort into my relationships with my children, my husband and with God.

The problem is, when you're in a competition (and I'm not... at least that's what I'm telling myself daily), you have to COMPARE yourself to other.. well, competitors.  Then all this nasty sort of self-talk wells up inside; things like: "She's definitely fatter than me, look at those chunky thighs..." or "That woman must have had a tummy-tuck.. there's no way she's had a couple of kids and been able to bounce back to that shape!" or "I would never homeschool my kids with that curriculum!" or "Man, their house is way newer and nicer than ours..."

Then, on an even deeper level, you might begin to compare your successes in your personal and emotional life; particularly your ability or inability to maintain sanity in the midst of work, kids, marriage, etc.

And when we compare ourselves among ourselves... we either deceive ourselves and can fall in to pride, or we simply fall short.

For we dare not class ourselves or compare ourselves with those who commend themselves. But they, measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise. ~ 1 Corinthians 10:12

Oh how true it is... The only measuring stick I ought to use is that of my conscience; as I stand before the Father God.  Yet even in that instance, I must be grounded in the truth and light and in the hope of His grace. 

A thought came to me the other day: Don't compare the journey if you're riding a different train...

(photo from: http://thebigrocks.com)

The fact is, life is a journey, not a competition.  And we are all traveling on different paths, using different methods of transportation.  You might be in a sports car, an SUV, on an airplane or in a helicopter.  For now, I'm stuck in a fully occupied, 8-seater minivan with crumb filled car seats, candy wrappers on the floor, and a stroller in the back.  I have to slow down quite a bit for my passengers... pit-stops, potty breaks and sometimes to stretch our legs and get our wiggles out.  It would be ridiculous for me to compare myself to anyone else, especially when we likely have entirely different destinations.

Through the Looking Glass

I go through a lot of days where I struggle with me and I really don't like me. This time though, I felt inspired to write the same story with two different perspectives. I know there are many days where it is so easy to look at the negatives, and then become glum and grouchy. Yet, just changing perspective to the good things, the positive side, can make the same situation seem entirely different. This is something I need to work on more...

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I wake up, tired... not really motivated enough to do the things I want to do. Then I lay in bed with the pillow over my head, trying to catch a bit more sleep.
Eventually the clock leers at me and I feel the guilt of staying in bed way to long.

I groggily sip my morning coffee, stumbling over small children who wander over and attach themselves to my leg.

"Get your breakfast" and then when there are the usual grumblings and repeated questions about what's for breakfast: "YESSSS..." I hiss, "we are eating cereal again!"

Eventually, I wander over to the dining room table, the centre of activity for our family. I crack the Bible open and read our devotions for that day, not without half a dozen interruptions and the complaint that I should be reading out of a different Bible because it's that kid's turn.

After assigning various duties to my school-aged children, and getting out the playdough, cookie cutters and rolling pin for the younger ones, it's usually time to change the baby and put him down for a nap.

Off to get dressed... I can't spend the whole day in my pj's. I stand in front of my dresser and pull out a favorite shirt to wear with my jeans. The shirt is pulled over my head and I feel like I should hold my breath, suck in... it's a little tighter than I wish, but I am going to lose that babyfat... just give me a couple more months! Then I see that my jeans are nowhere to be found - they must be in the laundry basket, waiting to be washed. So I'm stuck wearing my ugly, ill-fitting jeans that are too high waisted and make me feel even more roly-poly. But my favorite t-shirt just doesn't look right with these jeans, so back in the drawer it gos and I'm stuck wearing a different shirt which I'll just cover up anyway with my black hoodie.

I pass by the mirror and notice the wrinkles that seem to be multiplying every few weeks... Suck in, take a deep breath... time to get on with my day.

Is this for real???

Mornings come early when you have to nurse a baby in the middle of the night, but I usually awaken to the sweet sound of my preschooler singing to herself, and adding in an occasional (yet quite incessant) "Can I get up?!"

At least everyone has learned to stay in their beds and I'm not overrun be little people until I'm good and ready for them.

Many mornings, my husband is gracious enough to wake me with a morning cup of coffee - either a latte with flavoring of my choice or an Americano.

I lazily get out of bed, throw on some comfy track pants and begin my rounds of telling kids to get up, get dressed, and come to eat their breakfast.
Most mornings I have to remind them that they are having cereal AGAIN, but thankfully this is something they can get for themselves and I can get my bearings for the day. I'm not much of a morning person, you see...

The kids clamor for me to use their Bible for the devotions that day, and I take it as a good sign - they have an excitement and respect for the word of God, right?

Once the dishes are cleared and kids are occupied with some of their work for the day, I grab the playdough for my preschooler - thank goodness she is so easily occupied, and I then can take care of my baby and put him down for his first nap of the day. He's a cuddler and likes to snuggle right in to my neck while I rock him and sing. And such a good baby too... I'm so glad he is good about taking his naps during the day.

Then off to my room to get dressed.
I'm not so happy about my choices, and I feel like I could still lose a few more pounds since having my last baby, but hey... when you've had as many kids as I've had, I'm lucky that I don't have to wear elastic-waistband pants all the time! I look at my exercise bike hiding in the corner and promise myself that I'll jump on it this afternoon and get the blood pumping... At least I'm good and healthy.
Now to face the day.