I wish I had a reset button.
Where the flick of a finger could change my circumstances. My heart. Our world.
I fall into this trap of believing that pulling out a new sheet of paper and starting fresh has to be a grand, momentous gesture. That to begin again, I have to have it all together.
Well, that’s a big lie, because I’ll never have it all together. Thankfully for me, and for you, we don’t have to be perfect to begin.
After being out of town for a week, we came home to a messy house. Walking through the front door to shoes on the floor and crumbs on the counter is just one of those things that gives me a few extra gray hairs. I sat down on our giant luggage full of clothes waiting to be put away and felt paralyzed by the tasks ahead.
And, like he does, God talked a little sense into me. Like, Hey, Kayla, you have a house. You have things to fill it with. You have two beautiful children. You have two able hands and you have a clear mind. You have an amazing husband. You have more than most. Roll up your sleeves and do something.
Getting our house back in livable conditions isn’t a huge example of starting over, no, not at all, but it’s one of those daily grind things that add up and obscure my view from the bigger story God is writing.
Beginning is a deep breath and a few shirts sorted and a counter wiped clean.
Beginning isn’t knowing the end, or even having a map to get me there. It’s a small step and reliance on a guide that never leads me down the wrong path, a Spirit that gently nudges me, even when the road is bumpy and dimly lit.
Maybe we’ve forgotten, but a lot of us know that. But knowledge doesn’t always translate with doing.
How do we really begin?
Maybe we can start with this from Psalm 51: Create in me a clean heart, O God, And renew a steadfast spirit within me.
I wrote this morning from Lisa Jo Baker’s “begin” five-minute writing Friday morning prompt. You can see how other ladies interpreted the prompt here.