There is an interesting paradox involved when being a stay at home mom of four wonderful but crazy children. You have absolutely no time (or brain cells) to think about anything worthwhile, and yet you have much too much time to spend thinking while you can’t do anything else. I can’t sit down and write a budget on my laptop for fear that my toddler will climb on top of my keyboard and destroy it, so I’m left to walk around the house able to do little else but hold one or two squirming children and let my mind wander.

Our minds walk a treacherous path. Wandering about the house calming the teething toddler I notice shelves that are unorganized, paint colors that looked a lot better on the paint chip and DIY projects that aren’t doing themselves. My list of things I wanted to accomplish just keeps getting bigger and my mind just keeps getting heavier.

If only I could finish painting the kitchen ceiling after starting it 3 months ago, then I’d feel fulfilled. If only I could get out of the house for an hour and go for a run or read at a coffee shop, then I’d be content and joyful and patient with my kids again. If only my kids would sleep then I could wake up early and plan my day and write and read and drink coffee in peace and oh yeah, use the bathroom alone.

I have found every one of those excuses running through my head countless times, I’m sure you have hundreds of your own you could add. Why is it that we spend hours dreaming up ideal moments that we just know would make everything perfect? We chase perfection and contentment around like it’s a goal to be obtained or a mark to reach. 

Do you know what? I’ve had all those scenarios fulfilled at one point or another. I finally finished painting the kitchen ceiling a few weeks ago. Sure, it felt good to look at a job finally done, but it didn’t make me content. The next day I just thought of another project that I really should finish. I’ve had times where I have gotten away by myself and it’s all great and everything, but sometimes it’s a huge letdown when you get back home and realize you’re no happier than you were when you left. 

In our life we will always have goals and projects and things we want to do because they pave the way to a better life and happiness, but if we make the fulfillment of those things the source of our contentment then we will be left empty and frustrated.

Contentment is something that cannot be chased. No matter how fast or hard we pursue it, it will always elude our grasp. The only way to catch happiness is to stop, reach out and grab it, right where we are. 

Turn off that screen, turn off the rolling to-do list in your mind and stop. Instead of cleaning the kitchen and making a mental list of all the things you would change or don’t like about it, thank God that you have a kitchen. Thank God that you have running water, food in the cupboard, and a roof over your head. Make it a habit to be thankful, and write it down. I dare you, every time you think something negative to find something to be thankful for instead.

Let your mind be filled with gratefulness and suddenly you realize that you really are content right where you are.

I don’t think winter ever actually leaves my mind. When spring finally arives in May I thank God that winter is over. In July I tell the kids, “get outside, it’ll be winter before you know it and then you’ll wish you could be out in the warm, mosquitto infested outdoors.” In October I spend every last minute savoring the fresh cool air because I know I’ll be inside with the windows locked tight any day now. Living in the northern midwest, winter is a pretty big part of our lives.

I’ve spent years resenting it and years falling into a deep depression because of it. Thankfully, there is the anticipation of the holidays to get us through the first two months, but come the middle of January and I’m so done.

I’m trying, I really am. I’m trying to find joy in other things, trying to surpress my longing to be outside again. But still the depression runs deep. It’s interesting how the weather outside matches the weather of my soul. The winter of our hearts.

No one looks forward to those times, no one wants it. We pray the season passes quickly. Those days when we pray and the heavens seem clouded over. We wonder where the warm sunshine and happy feelings have gone. I used to panic when these days came. “What’s wrong with me? Why am I such a bad Christian that this keeps happening to me? Shouldn’t I be always aware of God’s love and always feel His joy?” The years come and they go and thank God that with each year added also comes a tiny bit more understanding.

You see, when I dreaded the thought of winter, all I could think of was a dead stillness, a season when time seemed to stand still, frozen under ice and -20 temperatures. It never occured to me that while everything on the outside appeared dead, the world underneath the snow was ever growing. I never understood that if we didn’t have winter, the apple trees would never bloom. If there isn’t death, there isn’t life.

We all have this need, a time for rest. A time when our fruit is harvested and our leaves wither and die, and for a time we are still with no sign of life. A time when we’re not in the spot light, a time for deeper things to happen that can only happen in the quiet despair of winter.

For every winter we endure there is new life born. Every time the maple trees drop their golden leaves they grow new ones. Every spring their roots grow deeper and their trunk stretches towards the heavens taller and stronger than ever. Every time we feel a deadness in our hearts it’s the hint that something new is about to grow. Instead of resisting the stillness we can fall in to God’s grace and trust that we’ll come out on the other side. The coldness will thaw and the warm sun will shine on our faces again and we’ll stand taller and stronger than ever, with our roots deeper in God’s love.

“Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6

My mind and soul have been longing to write, my fingers itching to put words on a page, and my excuses have won out until now. As a terrible perfectionist I would prefer to wait until my grammar is correct and my mind is filled with wise and wonderful words to write, but you can’t create a perfect end project without the sweat and tears that come with the making. You can wait and wait for the right words to appear out of nowhere, the proverbial writing on the wall, or you can choose to just start.

So here is my start. With my past attempts at blogging I was hoping to write something wise, something amazing in my first few words typed on the page. I wanted to be a real blogger simply by hitting “publish.” But how does one actually learn something but by repetition repetition repetition. Every word I write is one small step towards becoming more. But my pride is gone. No more waiting until I have wonderful wise words that will change your life. These words I write will simply be a very real look into the beautiful mess that is my life.