January 7, 2015

Meant to be broken...

Remember the other day when I said I needed to sit down more? Well, yesterday, on my slow trudge up the stairs to bed, I counted 13 hours. 13 hours since I had awoken at 5am and, save for the times I wrestled with a nursing baby, I sat down for maybe 7.5 seconds. Schooling, running, diaper changes, up and down the stairs with a baby in tow, laundry, making 257 meals, and all the other mom stuff added up to be a long exhausting day. And when I finally collapsed in bed to exhale (and to pray that Lola wouldn't be up again 3 times in the middle of the night like the night before) I had the realization that this feeling is exactly what I needed to remind myself about my true vocation:


to be broken. 


OR, just scratched all over my chest by a nursing baby.





It's no secret that I crave simplicity. In my heart of hearts I would love a little life, tucked away from the world, with my family, ideally on an island (hahaha). But sometimes I can confuse simplicity with "peace and kumbaya all the time." No worries, no stress, nothing to suck the life outta me. However, on the flip side, I'm struck with the fact that we are not called to la-ti-da skip throughout the day amongst rainbows and roses. We are called to constantly give and pour ourselves out and this and only this will bring the fulfillment and peace I/WE are so desperately craving.


So, how do I reconcile these two seemingly contradictory forces waging in my heart? I remind myself, once again:


I am meant to be broken.


Just like Our Lord, I am meant to be broken, opened up, and poured out for those around me. I am supposed to give and give until I can't anymore. This doesn't mean I live a life of stress, anxiety, and constant *doing* but rather that I embrace every chance I get to *be* for others. Whether it's the diaper change or the meal prep or the meeting or the outing or whatever, every moment in life is an opportunity to bless the family, the people around me and when I was finally struck with this notion last night, falling into bed, it turned my tiredness into a sense of fulfillment. Exhale, yes. But not an exhale of drudgery and non-looking-forwardness to tomorrow. Exhale in the form of I am broken. My mission for the day is therefore complete.


In no way, shape, or form do I live this perfectly. I complain about my "lot in life," my crosses. I roll my eyes at the toddler who wants another snack, are you kidding me?! I balk at the baby squealing in my ear when all I want is SILENCE FOR 2 SECONDS. I ignore the fact that I have another math paper to grade.


But maybe, just maybe, if I can constantly keep before me the truth that I am meant to be broken, for others, then all those things I complain about will turn into opportunities of joy - of love. They will become a source of strength and peace in and of themselves and when I finally take my last exhale, on my last night of sleep, I can rest eternally in the fact that, through my brokenness, my life's work is complete.














4 comments:

Jen Y said...

Such a beautiful way to turn what could be drudgery and never ending tasks into something so much more meaningful!

Kristine Mauss said...

Thank you :) Beauty is found in the little things! And it has to be because with kids everything is kind of little and mundane.

Gretchen said...

Thank you for writing this. It's beautiful and encouraging to this fellow mama to four.

Kristine Mauss said...

You're welcome, Gretchen. Soooo not easy, but hang in there. I remind myself that fruits will come...someday!