Enough.

So it's midnight here, and the weather is great. It's cool outside and it smells like summer. I know all this because I just spent the last 20 minutes walking back and forth between my driveway and the house, lugging floor tiles (and associated materials) to the trunk of my car. Here's the backstory: My husband is away during the week for some military training. I've got two babies under the age of 2 and a whole lot of time on my hands. Yesterday, I decided that the kitchen floor has to go. Right now. While Son #1 ran across it, waving his sippy cup in the air and screaming like a wild animal, I noticed everything negative about the old linoleum: the dents, cracks, discoloration. Off to Lowe's we went.

The tiles sat patiently in the dining room today. When the boys went to bed, I scrambled into the kitchen and started clearing things out, sweeping, and mopping up the floor. Nevermind that I spent money we really don't have for all this. "Our kitchen is going to look fabulous!" I mumbled to myself as I struggled to push the refrigerator from its place. I found myself crouched on the floor, desperately trying to detach a hose from the freezer door that just wasn't going to budge... It was then that I realized the absurdity of what I was doing.

I've always cared too much about what other people think of me. The blogs I read are by women I long to emulate: They wear dreadlocks. They travel the country and the world sharing truth. They care deeply for others, and they act on that compassion. They are brave enough to be servants of God -to be all that entails- in a society that often despises them for it. They are good stewards of what He has given them.

I gobble up every post that appears on their pages, but when it's all said and done, what I'm reading tends to get filed into the "that's-nice-but-not-for-me" bin in my brain. I'm probably not getting dreads anytime soon, and for now, we're based here in Georgia whether we want to be or not. But the godliness can -should- start right now, this instant. Unlike my kitchen renovation project.

I shoved the freezer door back on and resolved to return everything I'd so recklessly purchased. Small problem: I realized I threw away the receipt. And I'd taken out the trash before I started cleaning. At first, I daintily picked through, hoping in vain it'd just be lying conveniently atop everything. I ended up dumping out the whole bag on the floor. "Boy, this would be silly if I hadn't actually thrown it away," I thought as I waded around in the trash, breathing through my mouth only. I glanced at the counter and there the receipt was, folded neatly beside my drink.

I am told I have a decent sense of humor. I'm pretty handy on the computer. I whip up an awesome mandarin orange salad. However, I lack (in crucial amounts) patience, self-control, and contentment. We're a one-income family; the math isn't hard to do. Some evenings, though, I realize I spent a lot of the day as I did yesterday in the kitchen- Eyeing my surroundings and panicking that my 23-year-old self does not possess all that, say, my parents (or my friends, or that family on TV) have. I need this, and this and this and this... It all goes onto the imaginary list in my mind of the stuff I think I need.

Crazy conundrum that is me, I am intensely fascinated by simple living. I live to read about people who are down-sizing and eliminating excess in their lives. I love reading about the fellowship of believers in Acts 2 who sold all they had and lived in community with one another. So why -why?!- do I not apply any of this to my own lifestyle? I'm rushing down the fast track of the American dream here, and I don't even necessarily agree with the concept.

Oh Lord, can You use me? I'm knee deep in garbage, but You know my heart. I want to serve You.