I am sitting in bed with a wretched cough, weak, labored breathing from a chest that feels like it got stuck inside my hair flattening iron.
I went to Urgent Care yesterday morning, admittedly hoping that they would find enough wrong with me to warrant a magical prescription that would cure me in 48 hours or less so that I could just get on with it.
Instead, the doctor gave me a lecture.
I was told that I had a nasty virus, and that if I did not SLOW DOWN and take it easy for a few days, I would find myself back in his nice little sterile office most likely with pneumonia.
Does he have any idea what he is asking of me?
School started for my daughters two days ago. One starts her hip hop class this week, the other starts piano lessons and resumes her physical therapy. We just started going to a new church and the Fall Kickoff BBQ is this week.
And I just got a freelance copywriting job and have my first deadline.
Does he have any idea of what he is asking of me?
On my way home from Urgent Care, I proceeded to call my mom and rant about the unfairness of it all, the incompetence of the doctor, and how inconvenient all of this is. I mean – I have things to do! How can I accomplish all that I want to in this life if I am sick in bed watching BBC murder mysteries?
And I came home, sat across from my husband at the table, and with tears in my eyes and guilt in my heart, explained to him that he was going to have to help out even more than usual for the next few days.
Feeling sorry for myself, I reluctantly got into bed with my heavily honey laden tea, and of course checked out social media, posting my dire status update on Facebook and asking for commiseration and prayers for our family.
And then, in my Facebook feed, I saw Jen Hatmaker’s status update.
It was beautiful, encouraging, had over 1000 likes to it, and I
It was ugly, folks.
Instead of allowing her words to encourage me as they so often do, I turned it up on its head and allowed it to sting me. I allowed thoughts of my incompetence as a mom, a blogger, a woman of faith, a human etc. to become completely dismantled.
Has that ever happened to you?
I am in an online writing group consisting of a majority of women who are published writers or are in the process of becoming published writers. I am inundated every day with status updates and tweets and news bytes of people’s successes, accomplishments, heck – Jen Hatmaker even has her own T.V show now!
And it is a daily struggle to not only keep perspective, but to even safeguard my heart from outside influencers that will rob me of my own joy, my gratitude, to have the eyes to see the very beauty in the mundane of my daily life.
There IS beauty in the mundane. It is the most common place in which beauty can be found.
It is significant and worthy of my attention.
It is the place where God whispers to me, reminding me of where worth and value reside.
It is in the beauty of my mundane, every day life, where my true identity lies – the only place where contentment can be found.
The mundane is sacred because it does not have a prerequisite based on a resume, but instead requires that I show up and offer nothing less than all of me.
So, here I sit. In my bed. With my tea and my laptop and the quiet. Mundane as it may be, I choose to be present. I choose to embrace the beauty of the mundane.
I am not Jen Hatmaker.
So be it.