For all the ways you shouldn't feel …

It was Ann Voskamp who helped me acquiesce.

That is, when I finally figured out how in tarnation she managed to write a book with six homeschooled kids at home. I was not a little humbled to read her interview here and realize the answer was simply a woman willing to live on less than four hours of sleep a night. Shame on me for feeling overwhelmed here while she shouldered a burden I can’t even fathom.

“Shame on me for feeling …”

Funny how that rolls right off the tongue. 

It was this same “shame on me for feeling” that kept me stubborn about the writing cabin. Jeff suggested we finish a portion of our old detached garage and make it an office for him and writing cabin for me. Of course I inwardly loved the idea, but struggled with how to justify such an endeavor. Besides, I write about the sacred mundane–so shouldn’t I embrace the messy chaos of the mundane when I write?

There’s that should again.

See, somehow I got Ann Voskamp and Susanna Wesley mixed up. It was Susanna Wesley who had 19 children and, when she needed a quiet place to pray, would flip her apron up over head to signal to her children this was her time alone! Well, that is well and good, but I need more than an apron on my head in order to write a book, and apparently so did Ann. So her husband built her a small, simple cabin on the edge of their property, where she could be alone. For several weeks I kept thinking, “I shouldn’t want to get away from my kids. I shouldn’t want to escape from them into a quiet place. I shouldn’t  need to be alone in order to write.”

And after being should on for several weeks, I finally confessed these feelings to a friend and she promptly dismissed my ridiculousness and told me to relax and let my husband bless me.

Oh, ok. Well that was easy.

It was just the week before that a dear friend had confessed her need to grieve. Because of the unique challenges surrounding her parenting life, she faces continual opportunities for resentment, bitterness, and frustration. But the hardest part is that her challenge is also a gift. And certainly she is diligent to give thanks for that gift, but she also needs to grieve the fact that her gift also requires a radically altered lifestyle from all those around her. Her words:

“I know I shouldn’t feel this way …”

Says who?

Then just yesterday another friend confesses a need to grieve. She had wanted the gift of the child and God decided to give her a two-for-one deal! Twins are a gift, to be sure, but in her beautiful transparency she confessed a need to grieve as well. Instead of living in the shame of “I should be more grateful for these twins!” she was freed up to grieve, “Wow, this isn’t what I had in mind, God.”

The honesty makes space for transformation. 

The confession makes space for freedom.

We’re such quick judges, we women. When a feeling pops up, we immediately analyze it around and around, “Should we feel this way or shouldn’t we feel this way?”  And instead of confessing it–good or bad–to God, too often I just ruminate on it, turning it over in my mind.

Kept inside, those feelings too often turn to shame. Confessed–to God or to a person–those feelings can be sorted through. Some will be validated and acted upon. Some will be repented of and turned from. But either way, there is no shame.

Shame comes from hiding. From holding onto all the ways we shouldn’t feel.

The truth is: Sometimes I want to get away from my kids. And there will be times to act upon this and get away, and there will be times to ask for extra strength to stick it out and just stay put. But we won’t know the answer until we acknowledge all “the ways we shouldn’t feel” and let God sort through them on His own.

Inside your own heart: What are the ways you shouldn’t feel? What are in the inward struggles you don’t think you “should” have but you do? Dig deep. Be honest. Say it straight to God and let Him sort through it all on His own. He’ll make it clear where to go from there. And if appropriate, would you share a glimpse with us?

Sometimes it helps to know we’re not alone in all the ways we shouldn’t feel.

{Happy Monday. Thanks for reading.}