Not Nice Spice
Why do we underestimate the power of accountability? Often the pressure to perform can push us to rise to a version of ourselves we weren’t entirely confident in. The past few years God has reminded Stud and I about the importance of stewardship. Soon enough we began to see how easy it was to take care of little things, and continue to move on to bigger and better, so to speak. But what I wasn’t allotting for was stewarding the intangible. Time. So here I was with all of this time that wasn’t accounted for. I started a habit of saying, “Where did the day go?” And soon the day becomes a month or season, and even year. It became habitual to relate a need for a break or rest with filling time with, well honestly, nonsense. And somehow there was justification in that. I even deserved it. HA! Three babies in and scrolling on social media accounts wasn’t working for me anymore. So, last spring I left my latest fresh babe with Stud and a bottle, and headed out to a Thursday night book club. One book turned into two and that lead me to step out and ask a friend if she wanted to host one with me. A few book ideas were tossed around before settling on Beholding and Becoming. Many thanks to Ruth Chou Simons for her design and penning such an incredible book. Here I was thinking, “Check! I’ve managed my spare time with something of substance.” All the while not realizing there was more. Don’t you just love how God does that—tells you, “Nuh-uh! Not done. There’s more I created you for.” I’m the type of person that often leaves things the way they are because I either don’t know how to fix it or it’s so perfect I don’t want to break it. I’ve pushed myself to let go of that mindset. Not only is it not productive, but also for me personally, it becomes overwhelmingly toxic. Opening the mail I hadn’t realized how GORGEOUS Ruth’s book would be. I mean, as a Pinterest fail mama champion, she developed everything I hoped I could ever create. Naturally I left the book pristine. I didn’t dog-ear a page, absolutely no coffee drips allowed, grubby-sticky toddler fingers were on lockdown when I had my book out. Instead I took out my everything journal, where I literally write everything and anything down, and jotted some scrappy notes down as I read through. When we had our first meet up I quickly realized that the check, I so readily gave myself for filling my time with something of substance, needed to be erased. Yes, I had done what I wanted to accomplish but God hadn’t. I wanted substance but God wanted stewardship. I needed to pull back and see that just setting myself into a new environment didn’t provide the benefits of stewardship. It was the participation that did. It was the quality of that precious time and not treating it like a spot on a to-do list. If I wanted a return on my time I needed to set it apart. Give it its own space, its own portion of the day. It wasn’t to be checked off alongside the dirty dishes. So I took out a Sharpie, which no mama with littles ever does—is there anything more destructive than a toddler and a Sharpie? This time space needed to be Sharpie serious. I needed to permanently destroy the notion that the scribbles and cross-outs of life defined the worth of this time. So I took theses pretty little watercolor pages and poured myself into these pages. Perhaps slightly awkward at first, but it became an awakening that has allowed time to blossom in the frost of autumn.
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Kate FrancesWhen you don't know what else to do, then it's time to write. Then write a little while longer for good measure. Archives
February 2020
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