In case you didn’t know, I’m quite good at faking it. Looking like I have it all together and organized and keeping my cool in front of people who have no idea who I really am and have never seen me ugly cry or throw a book or slam the lid of the laptop.
I apparently reserve all those temper tantrums for my children and those who have proven they won’t leave me on the side of the road if they have to stop and let me throw up because my stomach is all in knots over some commitment I secretly wish I hadn’t agreed to.
September, October, November, and December are staring me down on the calendar and threatening to delete all my neatly arranged events if I try to schedule one more item. Sure, when there’s a neat table of a rehearsal schedule all sectioned off into scenes and hours and dates everything looks manageable. Of course, when you help enter all 42 moms into the registration database for MOPS International, it feels incredible to know you’re part of a ministry that’s reaching so many.
But then another actor drops out of the show and there’s far fewer childcare workers than there are children and the baby only took one nap for one hour the whole day and suddenly those pictures aren’t just fun snippets into how I’m figuring out the crazy.
Suddenly they’re sirens screaming at me to figure out my focus and just. do. that.
Oh, too late. Because I’m committed, I’m in, and from here until Dec.16 when I can lay Marley and Scrooge back to rest on the shelf, I’ve got to believe this instead.
I’m dreaming big enough to believe that where God leads, He also proceeds.
There will be more than enough workers for the sixty children that will accompany forty moms to our first MOPS meeting on September 6th.
The people I need are going to be in my show, and for eight days in December, people will remember that God truly does bless us, every one.
These next few months may not be my time to make this blog and my writing the highest priority, but someday soon I will have the opportunity to follow through the God-sized dreams I have for this.
Dare to dream big.
And when you get scared and need to cry on the floor of the bathroom, I’ll scoot over and let you sit by me.
Joining with Crystal Stine and an amazing community of women this week who dare to bare the soul behind the pictures. Tell me, what’s behind your scene?
Lindsey P. Brackett 