clothed.

enter may. only the busiest month of the year for my family.

it would only make sense that my refrigerator broke. and washing machine.

and that ella, our wire haired dog, would eat fertilizer…

i wake up a week ago. early. early because i have a newborn and i must get up.  and i walk through my room to get samuel. and i noticed a smell.  i remember thinking. wow. something smells….

“nutty”

not….bad.

definitely not “good” either.

that’s odd.

i keep walking.

and then i realize that there are dark shadows all over the carpet.

poop would have been too easy. nah. diarrhea. and vomit. of course the vomit had already been licked right back up, that’s a delicacy.

disgusting.

disgusting that i don’t even think it smells bad anymore because i’ve been breathing it in all night long. and in my case….breathing it in mouth open wide….all night long.

who has time for this? not me. not you. not anyone.

you know how you have those breaking points? those tip you over the edge. i can’t take this anymore points?

may became that for me. one thing after the other.

and if i see my reflection one more time in that freaking mirror i’m about to go crazy on someone. for the love. my hair. i’m starting to see the birds eyeing my hair for their new home.

and my toenails. jagged little beasts. someone paint them for me please.

and if i see one more cute girl with cute hair and cute clothes i think i’m going to scream.

is it too hard to have a clean house and to look cute?

and to be skinny? and to actually be healthy? and be a good mom? and be crafty? and be a good wife? with a loving spontaneous relationship with my husband? and to do creative things with my children? and to manage their behavior well? and to have a garden? and to have lots of money? and to go on restful vacations? and to have a savings? and to have friends? and do community development? and to reach out and help those in need?

this is getting ridiculous. this superwoman complex. who do i think i am anyway?

what’s wrong with our culture that puts pressure on us to be all these things? am i alone? am i blaming my culture too much?

is it not exhausting?

i remember the night after the poop and vomit. the day my washing machine broke. the day my toenails seemed to be reaching out five inches in front of me. after ben and i put our kids to bed. i remember feeling so exhausted. my freezer was thawing every second.( it just so happened to be the week i decided to buy only frozen meals for the week so i didn’t have to cook). ironic. i waved my white flag and poured myself a glass of wine and grabbed my anthropologie candle. i took me and my frizzy head and jagged toe nails outside on the front porch. —lawn chair with me. and i had a seat with my wine and anthro candle.

deep breath. what is the point of all this? why is crap robbing me of joy? joy that is mine?

okay God, i give up. i can’t do this. jesus i need you.

and he responds quickly. in a creative, casual way.

i quickly noticed that i was flanked by two yellow rose bushes. in full bloom. the drought last summer killed all of our grass. but our rose bushes were protected somehow. it seemed like hundreds of yellow blossoms reaching out towards heaven.

perfectly clothed.

and they were beautiful.

i couldn’t stop thinking about them. the sight of them eased me in a way that i can’t explain. they were beautiful. and they didn’t need another shopping exursion. or to lose more weight. or to have a bigger home. or to accomplish more than what they were doing.

reaching toward heaven. and allowing the rain to nourish them and the sun to flourish them.

and they were breathtaking.

this is my teacher, you guys. my shepherd. my God who is real, and alive and breathing who is speaking to me.

through the flowers.

he’ll take care of us. he’ll clothe us.

we’re okay.

i continued to sip on my wine with head tilted back looking at the stars. wondering where i would be without the voice of my Father.

its not easy, this fight. these battles. whatever the battles might be. we are kind of harassed aren’t we? all day long.

thank GOD. we aren’t alone and that we are loved.

and clothed. perfectly.

***

luke 12:27-34

consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet i tell you,

even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. but if God so clothes the grass, which is alive today and gone tomorrow,

how much more will he clothe you, o you of little faith?

fear not little flock, for its your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. sell your possessions, and give to the needy…for where your treasure is, there will  your heart be also.

photo-18

2 thoughts on “clothed.

  1. If there was any person in all of creation who was the picture of beautifully clothed, it’s you! Your dependence on the Father and straight up delight in Him humbles me. And you have amazing hair, so there’s that. 😉 love you ker!

  2. We are so alike. I laugh, I cry, I say “I know, I feel the same way” to everything you say. You always encourage me. Wish we loved closer so we could talk our hearts out like we used to. I love and miss you.

    And P.S. You are beautiful. Believe me when I say it.

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