When Bigger Is Not Better

Do you know Peter Walsh? The guy who helps people get rid of the junk in their homes? Well, he's written a book I've not even read, but I adore the title:

It's All Too Much.

Boy, that's become my mantra around here lately. It's all too much--the four acres with sprawling lawns, the barn and garage dumping grounds, the wild gardens, the orchard with its tree worries, the house with all its painting and repair projects. The dead frogs, birds, baby bunnies. The mosquitos, the disagreements with Tom's farm ideas and worrying about his polio'ed body. The weeds, the weeds, the weeds. Etc.)

Then there's the 1940's and 50's ranch houses on small lots which Tom and I walk through during estate sales. Oh my. Those have become my latest dream. My grandparents always had tiny houses like those and, as a teen, I felt sorry for them. But not now. Oh no, I'm envious, for I so understand the downsizing seasons of Life, especially as one passes fifty. I get it now. I know the secret.

A cute, efficient little place would enable me to do what God has called me to do, namely, spend much quiet time with Him so I can know Him better (and write in this blog to you), travel places with Tom, visit people, read lovely books, write letters to the discouraged and celebrate my life's remainder in other ways than keeping house and sweating, grumbling while mowing endless lawns. And uh, to keep my sanity, also. (When we're in the center of God's perfect, personalized will that's much simpler to do than when we're not.)

You know? God is so good. He allowed me to play farmer girl, to get this long-held dream out of my system. To work it out on a smallish plot of land, not plunge too deep. To revel around in its joys--and come smack-dab with its realities. 

But God gave me other, different gifts. 

Oh, I still enjoy flowers, vegetable gardening and painting indoors, but on a small scale. small scale! Please-oh-please. That's when Grace is a huge help to me--when I'm working on Debra-sized tasks,not Mary Jane Butters'-sized ones. Uh, no. Those are for Mary Jane. That's where Grace has been--over there in Idaho helping Mary Jane.  ツ

Debra, know thyself, lest you get thineself into a whole peck of trouble without Grace hanging around to help you out.

So what remains is for me to anticipate a smaller everything while still enjoying the remainder of this farm season, too. Or at least holding onto a good, grateful attitude about it. To not totally move away from here inside my head, but to hang on, to ask Grace for much help and to take one remaining day here at a time.

There is a price to be paid for answered prayers and dreams-come-true, you know.



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