“Don’t look back – you’re not going that way.”
I read that quote months ago, likely paired with a cutesy background + colorful font. A meme that’s stuck with me – words I find myself coming back to, particularly when my mind starts to wonder off into comparison-land.
I’m 3 months deep into my 6-month Instagram sabbatical. I still struggle with so many of the same things I did when I first decided to fast social media. My fears that I’m not a good mom because my life isn’t as glamorous as other people’s. My insecurities over my mom bod, the state of my house (it goes from neat + tidy to wild + displaced in a matter of seconds), and how I might actually suck at homeschooling. My ugly truths that if left unchecked, turn into jealousy, loathing and frustration at my lack. The desire for what others have or do better than me.
In this time I’ve set apart to stop scrolling – to mindfully engage with the deeper, darker fears in my heart, I see more clearly how easily enslaved I become to things. And the more I step back + hand them over to the Lord, the less power they hold over me. Praise God.
I’m truly a work in progress.
As I sit crouched in a tiny corner of my kids’ shared bedroom, typing away on my laptop, the rhythmic hum of rain beats across our roof. Its pitter-patter softening the heavy air in waves, melting the skyline into a blue-gray haze. A late-winter rainstorm has moved in, sweet and steady, watering our outdoor ferns and fruit trees like a cool, refreshing drink; pools of water now cleaning the thick deposits of mud the children heaped across our walkway leading to the laundry. Our little garden of marigolds, nasturtium, Hawaiian chili peppers, and sweet potatoes must be so happy right now. Rain brings forth so much life.
The cleansing, transformative power of being cleansed + washed + watered.
Lord, make it rain.