We're closing out birthday week today, and I am finishing up prep for our number 5 as she should arrive at some point within the next three to four weeks. It's been an interesting end of pregnancy as I've found that I'm putting a lot of pressure on myself to "have it together". I'm not quite sure if it's the fact that it's number 5, so really, I should know what I'm doing at this point, or the fact that we have four other kids, so in order to decrease the chaos, I want to have things squared away, or just my typical type A tendencies, but the need to whittle down my To Do list and my ensuing inevitable frustration (because you take one item off the list only to add three more) have resulted in a fascinating study of the state of my soul.
You see: I have trouble letting go of control, which is ironic considering the fact that I'm pregnant at all this time. I want to have it all together at all times. I want my expectations to consistently line up with reality. And I forget, so very easily, that the point is not to impress others with my ability to be awesome but to bless them for God's glory.
So today, before I try to work (again) on the homeschool planning that may or may not get finished, before I go make Littles his apple pie, before I even manage to get out of pajamas, I'm taking time to write down what matters. Because sure, there will be days when I have to choose between meeting one child's emotional needs and two other's physical needs (and I pray to God I make the right choice), sure there will be days when the laundry just does not get finished (and, thank goodness, I married another capable adult), sure there will be days when I'm frustrated by what hasn't gotten done instead of satisfied with what has, but:
We do the best we can...and try to eagerly anticipate whatever adventure comes next.
We remember that this is not our story--it's God's--and we just get to come along and enjoy the ride.
We remind ourselves that the best way to bless others is never personal perfection but rather our purposeful presence. And sometimes in order to be purposefully present when I'm nine months pregnant, I need to stretch out on the couch with the Man's baseball cap covering my face and take a short nap. Hear, hear. Oh, yeah, and remind myself of what is true: that present always trumps perfect and that it's better to bless than impress.