
The blank pages of my new planner stared back at me, full of possibility and – if I’m honest – a bit of shame. Would this be the year I could finally organize our chaotic blended family life into neat little boxes? Another year of wondering if I’d ever get it “right.”
I kicked off January with a family meeting, planner in hand, ready to confess. I was a grump to live with most days. My desire for things to “go right” often outweighed my desire for our family to “be right.” If only the house was clean, I told myself, I would be happy and content. When things were tidy, I was definitely more relaxed and easier to get along with. (My people nodded in emphatic agreement.)
This seems like it should be enough motivation for us to keep a tidy home.
It’s not.
In just a few short hours, the satisfaction of a clean house was replaced with agitation and overwhelm. From little league to band concerts and college visits, we bounced from one activity to the next, bringing a parade of paraphernalia in and out of the home. As I hustled to keep up with my responsibilities on the outside, there was a shouting match inside between my indignation of no one helping and my guilt of feeling inadequate.
When I finally confessed these feelings to the nervous-looking faces at our family meeting, the silence was awkward. You could tell they weren’t sure what to say. Then my brave teenage stepdaughter spoke up: “I don’t work on Mondays, and I can cook dinner on that day.”
In that moment, God showed me something beautiful – I’m only alone in my struggles when I choose to isolate myself. Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is admit we can’t do it all. Sometimes the most perfect plan is letting others step into our imperfect spaces.
What if your feelings of overwhelm aren’t a sign of failure, but an invitation to connection?
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