Tiny Twig and Jessi, two bloggers that I love and admire, have been talking about "giving up on good" for the past month. The idea is that sometimes we need to give up on good things, in order to spend time on the best things. So, for example, you might give up a great part-time job to spend more time with your kids, or you might give up leading a Bible study to invest more time in another ministry that God has clearly called you to. You give up something perfectly good in order to pour your time and your passion into something better.
And I have been pondering this idea for a while, actually long before other bloggers started talking about it. What good am I giving up on? What is the part of ALL that I don't do?
And here is the sad part.
I couldn't think of a good answer.
I couldn't really think of anything I don't do. I mean my house is not straight off Pinterest or anything. I don't DIY or refinish furniture and we still don't have the right sized bedding on our bed, and it's been like that since we moved in November. So I don't do everything, by any means.
But I do a LOT. I go to school. I work. I workout at least three or four times a week. I make homemade dinners {that involve using recipes} about three times a week. I have a quiet time every morning. My house is usually sparkling clean. I am always caught up on laundry. I blog. I serve at church. I keep up with old friends. We entertain lots of guests.
But before you get jealous, let me tell you the truth.
I can't breathe.
Literally.
During my most stressful weeks, I gasp for breath and feel like I can never inhale deeply.
At first we thought it might be exercise-induced asthma, but when asthma treatments had no effect on my poor breathing, the next diagnosis was anxiety.
It started a few months after I got married, as I began striving to be the perfect wife. I didn't ever articulate I was trying to be the perfect wife, but when I look at my past behavior and the expectations I was setting for myself, that was clearly what I was trying to do.
I wanted my husband to find no fault in me. I wanted all our new friends in Arizona to think of me as a gracious hostess, a good cook. I needed to be a great student, an active church member, and keep my body in perfect shape.
Pride.
It's sick.
I lived under the illusion that I can do it all. And my body rebelled. My body, literally, gasped "No, you can't. {Deep labored breath}. Please stop the madness."
So I am giving up on the "perfect wife" illusion. I am going to give myself a little grace.
So yesterday when my grandma arrived and I didn't have time to finish my folding, I shoved three loads of clothes into the dryer and shut the door.
Last night I served spaghetti and bread for dinner. There was no salad. I didn't use a fancy recipe for my spaghetti sauce.
In fact, I've stopped cooking fancy dinners altogether. Unless we have company coming over, we now eat the most simple dinners. If it's a random Tuesday night and it's just Micah and me at home, we now only eat a lean meat and a vegetable. Grill a steak. Bake some broccoli. Dinner is done. And we actually have found we like it better that way.
So that's me. I'm not perfect. And one of my biggest faults is that I still try a little too hard to be sometimes. But I am trying to give up on that. So if you come over, I'll take a deep breath, shove my unfolded laundry in the dryer and give you all my attention while you are there. Because you are so much more important than my laundry, stressing over a new recipe, or sweeping crumbs off the floor.
