I’m finally settling into this season of life. I think.
My flesh has reared its ugly head these past few months. I have believed lies–that things will settle down if we find a routine. That our house will be full of peace if it is in order. That if I just get things under my thumb, life will have to run smoothly.
There is a tiny bit of truth in each of those beliefs. But mostly lies. Because Jesus is our peace. And He himself said He does not give peace like the world gives. Not like Simple Living magazine or Mom’s Plan-It Calendar. (I’ve tried both.)
What has finally settled is my flesh–my unending desire to put things in order according to my plan, to bring myself some so-called peace. It has finally yieled its controlling, manipulating self to my spirit. Well, God’s Spirit within me. And I pray my flesh stays out of the way.
Of course, that depends on how often I call out to it. How often I revert to trusting it rather than trusting in the Lord. How often I just must have a clean house in order to feel like I have it all together. Or how often I convince myself obedient children make me a good parent. That is my flesh.
So here goes. I’m not perfect (which most of you know, anyhow), but I’m trying to yield my every thought and action to the One who created and sustains every living thing. Including me. And everyone in my household. And Who has a far greater plan than I could ever conceive or imagine.