Mediocrity

I've spent a lot of my life striving to be better, different, unique, excellent.

Some days I think I peaked in grade 8, when I won the citizenship, academic proficiency, and language arts awards at graduation.

I won a handful of music awards in high school, but, they kinda had to give me something, I was part of so many choirs and ensembles.

Then university, and the awards ceased.  There are a lot of spectacular over-achievers out there.  I had to become content with the As, knowing I'd done my best, but that other's bests were better.

And then I graduated, and got out of that system of constantly being measured, and realized that not much of it mattered.

But I still wanted to be special, and different, and respected, and valued for my unique awesomeness.

(which may or may not really exist)

And let's be honest, that's a big part of what this blogging thing is all about.  

It's all, "look at me in my genuineness and sincerity and see how I'm maybe just a little bit unique and cool."

Not that I try to be things I'm not, that's just it - it's just showing a peak at what really goes on, in my home, in my head, in my heart.  

And when it all comes down to it, sure feels good when people say they pay attention.

Feels even better when they like what they read - me.

And then, life gets the best of me, and I'm way too busy to blog anyway, even though it's one of the things I like most, and one of the things I'd most like to do and define myself by.

I dream about spending time designing a lovely site, and having faithful readers, and taking time to craft lovely words, and maybe even making a bit of money at it.

And it turns out I'm mediocre even at this.

Just like I am at that resolution thing.

And most things.

And the most important things.

I haven't prayed in eons.

I was trying to memorize scripture, but that fell by the wayside with this new busy schedule, around the same time mornings felt hard and that hop out of bed at 6am thing turned into a few extra snooze slaps followed by a mad dash out the door.

I feel like I have nothing to offer anyone - and I probably don't, seeing as I haven't allowed myself to be filled by the bounty that is offered by the only one who can fill me, the only one who's overflow can do anyone else any good.

And so, here I am.

Typing my selfish reflections to a wee audience.

Hoping for a bit of attention, some sort of response.

When really, I should be bringing them into the Light.

To the One who will always give me an audience.

To the One who will shape me and mold me into something beautiful.

For Him.

Not me.

And not you.

Sometimes

I don't know how to be that person I want to be, that person I think I am somewhere down inside.

I was reading a couple of posts on a couple of blogs from a couple of pretty amazing women that I've never ever met.  They were thoughtful, and deep, and talked about their heritage, and their children, and being a mom, and loving Jesus.  There was so much intentionality in those words, in the lives they are letting me peak into.

And I want to be that too.  I want to be thoughtful about my mothering.  Connected to those beyond me, those family members who have contributed to who I am.

And then there's reality.  There's rushing to get to work and wash some diapers and find some healthy supper and maybe take a shower and be with my husband.  There's hitting the bed hard at the end of the day, exhausted, knowing that there will be crying from the crib next door in just a couple of hours.  There's needing to do it again tomorrow.

My life is not difficult.  My life is so blessed, and full.  I am well supported by my husband and family and friends and church community.  I have all kinds of simple luxuries for which I am so thankful.

But I am not good at cultivating that depth, that intentionality in my life that I long for.

And I need to go to work now.  After I help put away the groceries.