Less Me, More Him

For the first time since my babies were born, I had a full weekend to myself. 

The morning my crew departed was hectic and overwhelming. Little Jimmy and Jackson couldn't seem to get out of the house fast enough, Joshua was recovering from a viral infection still and as I fielded questions, commands, and refereed my last arguments before they shuffled out the door, I kept reminding myself the weekend was mine. 

I had no big plans for my weekend alone. Of course, I ended up doing what every mom does when she has the house alone - cleaned and organized. With no little people to undo and question all my decisions on what would stay and what would go, I was able to swiftly move from room to room and de-clutter a house that over the years had grown so messy. 

While I found my cleaning to be a welcomed accomplishment, I longed for this weekend to be about more than cleaning and resting. I had committed myself to learning how to be present in my own life. You see, as wife to a loving husband, mother to three beautiful boys and CEO of a company, I work really hard to be present in other people's lives. I sacrifice moments to center myself and be present in my own life so I can be present in other's lives. It's a tough balancing act, and I beseeched God to use this past weekend to be present in my life and teach me what it means to be present in my own. 

I want to be humbled by the breaking of dawn. 

I want to be fully engulfed in the beauty of a sunset. 

I want to be peacefully centered when there's absolute chaos in the house. 

I want to remember always the sounds of my playing children, the sweet surrender of their bodies to sleep, and the warmth of sleeping beside my groom. 

I want to constantly forgive and see hope awakened in every new beginning. 

I want to love so fully it physically exhausts me. 

What God revealed to me in a weekend of solitude was that there's too much me in my own life. Being present in my own life means laying down my life to make more room for my Heavenly Father. The only way to find any sort of balance in this race we all run is to surrender to the notion that there is no race. The course has been charted and the victor named. To fully be present in other's lives and my own I needed a weekend not full of activities devoted to me, but a weekend devoted to less me and more Him. In a culture where we celebrate ourselves constantly with earthly treasures and pampering, it was time for a cleansing of the spirit and no amount of retail therapy, pampering or even cleaning of the house would accomplish what I sought. 

This morning in church, I sat alone in the middle section, on an end seat with my phone tucked safely beneath me. It was hard to not reach down and use it as a distraction to curb my need to look as if I was occupied, but what I witnessed this morning was of so much more value. As I looked around, I saw no phones. I saw interaction. Friends embraced, strangers were introduced, and laughter filled the air. Seats were filled around me as I strained my neck to find someone I knew to occupy the empty seats next to me. As worship started, God placed an elderly woman, who was also alone this morning, in the seat right next to me. Her voice lifted high and mighty in every song we sang. Her Bible was full of her elegantly written notes next to scripture. She said not a word to me, but her presence filled me. At the end of the service, for whatever reason, I turned and hugged her. 

I want to experience the love of loving others, even those I don't know. 

I want to embrace more strangers. 

This past weekend wasn't about me. It wasn't about having 48 full hours of not having to say "no," not having to referee quarrels, and finding peace while my family was gone. This past weekend was about surrendering myself and wholly embracing the belief that there needs to be less me, more Him; to be present in my own life means allowing His presence to live within me. 

"Forgotten God" by Francis Chan, a welcomed companion during my weekend.