Seasons of Survival

The season of life in our household over the past few weeks hasn’t been the easiest or most pleasant. Six weeks ago, we made the move to Brisbane. I had been procrastinating packing due to my reluctance to leave the place that I loved and ended up packing and moving 80% of our house in three days. Since the move, which I did when I was 24 weeks pregnant, I have had a kidney infection which wiped me out, some smaller sicknesses and appendicitis which resulted in open surgery rather than keyhole because I was 29 weeks pregnant. I’m not the only one who has been unwell, we’ve all been hit with something or other.

I tend to be a very organised person. It comes with my perfectionism and the incredibly unrealistic expectations that I set for myself. So my plan for the last few months had been to move at the beginning of November so that I had a month to get everything in the house unpacked and beautiful before Christmas arrived.

You should see my house. It’s not unpacked. Or beautiful. There are piles of clothes waiting to be washed, other piles waiting to be folded. I am not on top of things.

This is something that normally would really bug me. And it is something that God, with the help of some friends, has been leading me through. I have had to come to realise that having a tidy house is not the priority. Loving my kids and living in a house of joy and peace is far more important than whether the floor has been mopped.

So I’ve been learning to give myself grace. There are seasons of survival. Seasons where you are treading water, rather than cruising along the surface. Seasons of exhaustion and sleep depravation and relative chaos. Following the birth of a baby. Following a big move. I think that being bed bound after surgery probably counts.

When the body is hit with trauma, it shuts down the things that aren’t vital to survival in order to prioritise blood flow and oxygen to the parts that are the most needed. I’ve had to learn to work like that in my home. When something unexpected hits, I’m not capable of handling every single thing that I would normally. Some things have to go, and I need to make sure that they are the things that our family, the body, can live without.

We can live without a tidy house. We can live without extra Christmas parties. We can live without fancy meals. But living without peace, love and contentment is a lot harder. As the mum of the house, I am the one that tends to set the atmosphere. The kids ride off my emotions, even when I’m doing my hardest to have them under cover. When I’m being hard on myself, pushing myself to do more even through pain, they can tell. They become cranky and irritable and it just begins this downward spiral in our home. Where the atmosphere is heavy and nobody is really enjoying being there.

I’ve had to learn that it’s okay to just sit on the couch and relax for a while. It’s okay to have morning sleeps! Some days it’s more than okay. Some days it’s the best thing to do for all of us.

I think this season is probably a reflection of the bigger things that God is trying to teach me in general about how I raise my family and what I prioritise. That the atmosphere that I cultivate in my home is more important than a check list or the accomplishments of the day. It’s a hard lesson to learn in a society where success is so entwined with activity and being busy.