Someone, somewhere

Too much of life is focused on what we want. Too often, we overlook the overflow in our own laps as we gaze longingly at the greener pastures just to our left or our right. The lady in Bible Study who just got a new couch. (Yours is 15 years old and still smells slightly of baby spit-up.) The friend with the new baby. (You’ve been trying for ages and just got your period, again.) The sister-in-law who gets her hair done every four weeks, like clockwork. (Your last cut was in 2012. You know for certain because it was also the last time you had coffee alone.)

We look at the plenty around us and we covet. We know it’s wrong. We know it breeds discontent. We know it’s eating at our souls, and yet …

We want more. We want that: the renovated kitchen, the boots all the cute girls are wearing, the family trip to Disney World, a bigger yard, a fatter paycheck.

There’s a saying that sums up a deep truth here: Someone, somewhere, is happy with less than what you have.

Someone, somewhere would take your worn out kitchen table in a heartbeat … if it meant that little hands had been gathered around to worry and scar the surface.

Someone, somewhere would take your prodigal who only calls once in a blue moon … if it meant that their son would be alive again.

Someone, somewhere would take your husband who isn’t a believer … if it meant that their Christian-on-the-outside husband didn’t mentally abuse her and her children.

Someone, somewhere would take your too-small house … if it meant that the foreclosure hadn’t happened.

Someone, somewhere would take your ponytail of despair … if it meant being able to afford staying home with her kids and not need to live “business casual” forty hours each week.

Your wood floors scuffed from matchbox car races, your collection of mismatched mugs with five different variations of “World’s Best Mom” slogans, your blinds with the bent slats from little prying fingers trying to steal a peek at Daddy as he pulls in the drive, your stretch marks, your workaholic husband, your nosey mom …

Someone, somewhere would take them, and rejoice.

The ten year-old minivan, the sleepless nights, the apple juice stain on the carpet, the grass that never gets cut before it’s knee-high. They’d take it all.

Remember that when the unfolded laundry takes over the couch, the teenager challenges your authority, the baby screams for three hours. You are blessed, not burdened. You are living someone’s dream. Yours. Maybe not today’s version, but in the big picture? You love this. You wouldn’t trade it for the world. Because trading it in means missing not just the bad parts, but the good. And that price? Be honest– you don’t want to pay it, after all.

Keep your eyes on the blessings that others– the people to your left, and your right, see … not your couch. It can be hard, yes. But it is so, so worth the effort.

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The Modest Mom
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A Mama’s Story
The Wellspring
Mommy Moments
What Joy is Mine
Titus 2sday
Growing Homemakers Linkup
Titus 2 Tuesday
Teaching What is Good
We Art THAT Family
Raising Arrows
Serving Joyfully
Graced Simplicity
Thoughtful Thursday
Raising Homemakers
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