Monday, September 18, 2017

Redefining Accomplishment



Several weeks into the new school year and I already feel like a failure.

As the summer ended the feelings crept in as I hadn’t accomplished what I’d hoped to at the start. My list originally went something like this:


  • Sand and paint the kitchen ceiling.
  • Sand and paint the master bathroom ceiling.
  • Clean and organize the garage.
  • Clean and organize the garage storage room.
  • Mend every last item that I haven’t mended in the last five years.
  • Find a publisher for my completed manuscript, “The Invisible Calling: the Art of Getting Lost and Being Found.”
  • Start my new manuscript I’ve laughingly titled, “The Introverts Guide to Surviving Motherhood.”
  • Write 10 chapters on my speculative fiction manuscript, “Faith’s Rising.”
  • Weed the entirety front flower beds. Weekly. No, bi-weekly.
  • Keep the lawn mowed.


Oh, and:


  • Continue potty training my three year old son.
  • Take the four older kids to daily swim practice for eight weeks. Entertain the toddler during the practices.
  • Take the kids and work the weekly 4-5 hour swim meets.
  • Feed my five kids three meals a day. 
  • And second breakfast. 
  • And brunch. 
  • And snacks. 
  • And just before dinner: I’m-gonna-die-in-the-next-three-minutes-if-you-don’t-feed-me-right-now appetizers.
  • Laundry for seven people. Don’t forget the laundry.


I didn't get much of anything done on that first list. Just the second. Only, I don’t know about you, but that second list comes a distant second to the first list in my self-concept of accomplishment. Like my summer wasn’t worth anything because I spent my days keeping five kids alive doing laundry and playing puzzles and pushing my son in the swing and watching my daughters ride their bikes and…

I’ve been watching some of the leaves start their yearly decent into death that yields our glorious fall colors. But I feel like that one tree whose leaves just turn a drab mustard, then brown, then crumble. My death of self that comprises motherhood doesn’t feel dressed in beauty. I feel weak. Maybe other moms managed to get more done.

More and more lately I’ve been realizing I have impossible standards for my own strength. As I mother I tell myself it isn’t good enough to take care of my kids, I need to do it all. And my “all” is rather large. If I don’t get that “all” done, I must be worth less than other moms.

At the end of the day when I’ve done nothing more than what was necessary in my mom-life I can feel hollowed out and empty. Drained and restless.

But maybe there is another way.

Maybe there is a way for my self-sacrifice to be that kind of beautiful I dream of, only, it starts in my own mind and my own perception.

What if in my own mind I called all the little things I do around the house lovely? What if I went to get out food for the kids to make their lunches and I saw powerful hands reaching out to feed the hungry? What if I called beautiful those moments when I found the courage to read that book One. More. Time?

What if I saw my own life as brave? ‘Cause frankly who else but the courageous signs up to parent? If I don’t feel brave and strong in the moment then that’s okay because bravery is different bravado. Courage is found in the acknowledgement of a seemingly insurmountable task and signing up anyway. I seem to feel courage is only found in the absence of weakness.

The beauty of my life needs to start in my mind. Strength to live my day-to-day needs to come with a mental redefinition of strength. God defines Joy as strength, why don’t I? God defines service as strength, why don’t I? God defines loving others as strength, why don’t I define my life by these standards?

It’s past time for me to change my mind. To renew it, and to let it soak in a different standard than the worlds manic race to an unreachable finish line.

My plan for the fall:

Live in the moments I can never get back. 
Take a walk with my son and watch his chubby fingers explore the world. 
Stop at every stick and rock and downed leaf to experience the joy of the now.
Re-evaluate my self-talk. 
Chose to affirm my worth as a God’s daughter.

If I can’t sit with my son at the family room table and write while he plays Legos, bring a clip board. If I can’t write my stories on clip board being interrupted every 20 seconds to admire my son’s creations, then to let go. And build the best darn Lego house for his ninja-storm-trooper-Spiderman thing.

And then maybe at Christmas, when my older kids are on break from school, I will feel like I got something great accomplished this fall. 





Do you have a positive or negative self-talk? How do you define your accomplishments?