Have you ever heard the illustration about the circus performer who is "The Plate Spinner?" The guy starts with one or two plates and gets them spinning really fast and can keep them going with no problem at all. I've actually seen this done and its pretty impressive. They have these glass plates (I'm guessing Corelle, for easy clean-up) spinning around and around these super skinny poles. And as they get their first plates into a nice groove, they add another plate. And another. And another. Until finally, they are balancing 50 plates and 50 poles and suddenly its too much and all the plates crash and shatter on the ground.
This is me. I'm the plate guy. Of course, I'd love to tell you that I'm the woman successfully spinning two plates beautifully. I'd really like to say that I am Super Mom. But if I said that, who would actually continue reading? Nobody likes a perfect person. Nobody likes to feel like they are inferior to someone else, or that we don't have it figured out.
Or is that just me?
No, I'm the plate spinner with 50 plates spinning wildly out of control. I don't feel like I'm accomplishing anything except running from plate to plate to plate. I don't even feel like I'm doing the running between plates very well. In fact, I'm stumbling over my own two feet. I'm forgetting which plate I started with and which one needs to be spinned next.
My head is bouncing back and forth like a cartoon character. Or at least that's how it feels.
Don't get me wrong, I love every plate that I'm spinning. I love being a wife and having a husband to take care of and call my own. I love my job as a mother, more than my life its self. I love the little kids I care for during the day while their mother's are hard at work. I love visiting my mom at the hospital and having one on one time that we've missed out on the last few years. I love planning Christmas parties, birthday parties, holiday shopping, and visiting every family member, friend, and store in the near 50 mile radius. And I even like cooking and cleaning my domain...sort of.
But supposedly being one of the biggest fans of the holiday season that I know, I find myself a sort of Scrooge this year. In fact, while decorating the Christmas tree, I was so overwhelmed by it all I actually said, "Bah Humbug."
So I'm at the fork in the road where I need to decide what to do with all this frustration. My first thought is to go to my bedroom, close the door, climb into bed, put some ear plugs in and hide for the next 6 months. I will wallow in self pity and say, "Woe is me" over and over until I finally feel justified.
Believe it or not, I've taken this road before. Maybe I haven't laid in my bed hiding from the world...but I've wallowed. Man, have I wallowed. Let me tell you, wallowing is not pretty for a young (or middle-aged) lady to do. Wallowing brings out the ugliest, most selfish things in a person.
Its just not worth it.
So, again, I fall to my exhausted knees, bow my selfish little head and I pray. I ask for the minutes to feel more like hours. I ask that God would turn all of jobs I've been given in life would feel more like ministries. I ask that He would allow me to see that He has entrusted me with all that I can handle, and not one thing more. I ask that I would feel privileged, and not burdened, that He entrusts these things to me. I ask Him to allow me the rest I need, and with fresh eyes see the difference I can make.
And He says He will.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”