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To Dream the Impossible Dream

15 Oct

I just spent an hour and a half trying to get my baby to sleep and it didn’t work. Whenever I got close, someone would barge in, rudely, demanding my attention and distract him and I’d have to start the whole process over again. I finally left the baby with my husband, went downstairs, stared at the mess that is supposed to be my home, and started to cry. I ate a bunch of cookies and drank some milk, and it made my stomach hurt, and I cried some more.

I haven’t stopped.

I have years, and years, and years of mistakes to correct. Financial mistakes. Housekeeping mistakes, mixed in with the general life with four kids and a husband who works, and who went to school for several years while I homeschooled and was pregnant or had newborns. I can’t beat myself up for choices that I made that were less than ideal, but I understand why people want to run away from home.

So I am going to take five minutes to list my desires for my life, and then I am going to sweep up all those dang packing peanuts off the floor that my daughter dumped on the babies head to make snow, and organize the danged laundry, and make my kids pick up all their junk, and vacuum, and mop, and then I am going out with my friend Julie. (Man do I feel sick…I wish I hadn’t eaten those cookies and drank all that milk. Ugh)

I want a reasonably clean, attractive, and maintained home with room for my kids to play and sleep and grow. I want a yard, and access to nature. I want wood floors that are easy to clean, tile that is not peeling up, and a bathtub with no mold growing in it. I want a big, airy kitchen with lots of counter space, and a dishwasher that is anchored to the wall and won’t tip over. I want framed family pictures and the kids art on the walls, as well as art and photographs I have purchased from my talented friends. I want a home filled with experiences and not just stuff.

I want my husband to have a job that fulfills him, working for a company he can respect, that pays him a wage that he feels he has earned. I want him to be able to talk about what his day at work was like, before for years now, he hasn’t even wanted to mention it when he comes home. He just wants to forget it. I want him to be satisfied. I want him to feel his home is his castle, and not his grave.

I want my kids to feel safe, happy, and well fed, not just in body, but in soul. I want their mamma to be at peace, and for my peace to radiate towards them. I want cuddles and songs and stories and happy attitudes.

I want to be happy, healthy, whole. I want to stop crying in frustration. I want to be able to say, All in all, this is good. This is happy. And on days like this I wonder if it will ever be?

I want to write. I want to be really amazingly good at it, so good “they can’t ignore you,” as Steve Martin once said. So good my husband can quit his job and be my personal accountant.

There is a song that Hugh and I love originally sung by Sandie Shaw in the 1960s, and later by The Smiths in the 1980s, called Jeane. Someday I want this song to just be another song prettily sung, and not one that pierces my heart so much with it’s accuracy…

Jeane
The low-life has lost its appeal
And I’m tired of walking these streets
To a room with a cupboard bare

Jeane
I’m not sure what happiness means
But I look in your eyes
And I know
That it isn’t there

We tried, we failed
We tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried

Jeane
There’s ice on the sink where we bathe
So how can you call this a home
When you know it’s a grave ?

But you still hold a greedy grace
As you tidy the place
But it’ll never be clean
Jeane

We tried, we failed
We tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried

Oh …
Cash on the nail
It’s just a fairytale
Oh …
And I don’t believe in magic anymore
Jeane

But I think you know
I really think you know
Oh …
I think you know the truth
Jeane

Oh …

No heavenly choir
Not for me and not for you
Because I think that you know
I really think you know
I think you know the truth
Oh …
Jeane

That we tried, and we failed
That we tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried and we failed
Oh …
Oh …
Jeane

How much longer, Lord? How much longer will everything feel so wrong? I want it to be right. I want so much, and I have tried so hard, and I don’t know what else to do. So much is stacked against me, and it’s no one’s fault but my own and the sins of the father being visited on my generation and who knows how many others. But my heart cries out for Eden, and it cries out for a life that I know is not impossible, but seems just out of my reach.

I wrestle with what it is that is required of me. Contentment? Labor? Discipline? What do I put my efforts into first? My home? My career? My health? My kids? It’s all swirling around me and I feel like I am getting pulled downward all the time.

Abba! Father!

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4 Comments

Posted by on October 15, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

4 responses to “To Dream the Impossible Dream

  1. Sherri Schultheis

    October 25, 2011 at 9:49 am

    I know this feeling. It is all too familiar. I know God has a plan for me. I have read it. Jer 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, to give you hope and a future.” I believe it. But still.. I wonder.. how much LONGER.

    A woman from my church was talking with me this week and she said sometimes God puts us in a place where we must rely on him completely. She said “especially those of us who have a plan – a firm idea of what we want to happen in our life.” She said he does this to remind us that we must have total trust in him and not lean on our own plans. That is especially hard for me. I have a five year/ten year plan. She reminded me that in America we easily take for granted a roof over our head and hot food on the table. We complain that our house is cluttered and dirty because we simply have TOO MUCH STUFF. Stuff we have bought. Junk we have accumulated that now clutters our homes and heart. She laughed gently and said “Sherri, how funny we must sound to other countries that have nothing when we gripe that our childrens’ rooms are TOO cluttered with toys. How is that a complaint?” She assured me she made the very same complaint when her children were younger. She confided that she has felt what I am feeling. She reiterated that God has a plan and it’s going to happen. I can fight it and wander in the desert, or I can stop fighting, sit back and just trust that He truly has my best interest at heart and He knows the future I cannot see.

    I know all this.

    I KNOW it, but still.. I wonder “when?”. And sometimes I get so focused on wondering WHEN that I become frustrated. My frustration keeps me from enjoying what I have right now because I just want to know what is going to happen. I wonder sometimes if that isn’t God’s lesson for me: to learn to enjoy the moments and be thankful for them.

    Again.. I KNOW all this. So why do I feel so overwhelmed with grief? So worried? So sad? So frustrated? So….tired? I don’t know. I know what you are feeling. Abba! Father! I agree.

     
  2. jennifer z

    October 25, 2011 at 12:01 pm

    Feeling for you-been there-hugs.-jennifer z

     
  3. Kelly Krietenstein- Shelton

    October 25, 2011 at 4:36 pm

    I love this Kate, and I will say, I don’t read many blogs because they annoy me, or I just grow tired of them, but I always read yours. I know blogs are the “thing” now, but girl, you need to put all these into a collection and call it a book. This is what moms need to read, not “what to expect when you’re expecting” because, let’s face it, life with children is what you should expect when you’re pregnant and that is just plain hard sometimes! Love you.

     
  4. Mark Soper

    October 26, 2011 at 12:43 am

    I struggled for years when you were young, wondering what I should do with my life. Now, I can’t imagine doing anything else than explaining technology through writing, videos, photography, and teaching. I’m praying that you and Hugh will hang in there as God, one step at a time, reveals where you’re going.

     

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