I’ve been a bit quiet on social media this week and last, both here and on Instagram. It’s not a lack of content, I can assure you of that— but rather a disturbance in my heart that keeps me quiet. You see, I’ve been throwing a bit of a childish fit. Quietly, in the corner and background, away from public view of course, but if you look hard enough (or talk with me long enough) you will hear that rebellious little foot stomp echoing down the corridors of my heart. It’s discontentment, plain and simple. It’s the “I don’t like this” and “I want to change that” and “Why can’t they notice this” and “But I don’t want this” comments, the complaining spirit, the heavy sigh that comes from living out of comparison, envy, and pride.

It’s the selfish voice that says, “I feel like I’m pulling more than my weight around here, and more things get added to my list,” instead of humbling thanking my husband for everything he does for me out of habit and intention, how faithfully he serves me, how frequently he puts aside his own preferences to care for me.

It’s the greedy voice that says, “I want recognition and fame and a chance to be in the spotlight, and I want to be noticed and applauded for the work that I do,” instead of working for God’s glory, and trusting that He will grow my business in His way, in His timing, as He intends.

It’s the anxious voice that says, “I can’t do it all, I’m behind, I have to work more to catch up, things will never get done, and it’s all on me. If I feel this behind now, what about when life gets even busier?!?” instead of faithfully completing the work in front of me today, and leaving tomorrow’s cares for tomorrow.

Today I’m taking time for a heart check.

I finally sat down to my desk around noon, after a long morning taking care of our puppy and random house management items. I’ve felt  disjointed all week, frustrated with the coming and going, struggling to complete even the simplest tasks on my list. But this morning, as I opened my laptop and started to check emails, my eyes fell on this quote by Elisabeth Elliot hanging above my desk, placed there specifically for days (and in weeks) like these:

This job has been given to me to do.

Therefore it is a gift. Therefore it is a privilege. Therefore it is an offering I make to God. Therefore it is to be done gladly, if it is done for Him.

Here, not somewhere else, I may learn God’s way. In this job, not in some other, God looks for faithfulness.

 This job as a wedding photographer has been given to me to do. It doesn’t matter what my colleagues are doing, or what my industry says about my job, or what accolades I crave. It doesn’t matter if I’m overwhelmed, feel defeated, fall behind, or fail my unreasonable expectations for myself. This job a is a gift, a privilege, and an offering. And I am responsible before God to do this job gladly, with faithfulness. Because God gave this job to me. And He has promised to also give me the grace needed to do this job well.

This job as a wife has been given to me. It doesn’t matter how my mother did marriage, or what those marriage books say about how I should love Buck, or who should do laundry, cook dinner, or wash dishes. It doesn’t matter if I feel fat or I have to work late or we have travel plans that keeps us from the “normal boring” life that we love. This job— being Buck’s wife— a is a gift, a privilege, and an offering. And I am responsible before God to do this job gladly, with faithfulness. Because God gave this job to me. And He has promised to also give me the grace needed to do this job well.

This job as Guster’s “mom” has been given to me. It doesn’t matter how other people train their puppies, or how Cesar Millan says to put him in his place. It doesn’t matter if I feel like I’m failing, or if the lady at the dog park scolds me for taking him off his leash at 12 weeks old, or my brother tells us we need to put him in obedience classes that completely overwhelms me and our life schedule. This job of dog training a is a gift, a privilege, an offering. And I am responsible before God to do this job gladly, with faithfulness. Because God gave this job to me. And He has promised to also give me the grace needed to do this job well.

This job as a (hopefully, soon-to-be) homeowner has been given to me. It doesn’t matter if we have to shift around our vacation plans for home inspections, or we have to talk about budgets more often than I like, or I have to break up my daily schedule to sign papers and drop off checks. It doesn’t matter if I feel overwhelmed or anxious about the future, or am frightened about what the Summer looks like because everything is crazy and unknown.This job of home buying a is a gift, a privilege, an offering. And I am responsible before God to do this job gladly, with faithfulness. Because God gave this job to me. And He has promised to also give me the grace needed to do this job well.

I’ll be honest, my heart is still struggling this afternoon. But it’s on it’s way to quietness and confident trust in God’s provision, and I know that the unrest in my heart is rebellious discontentment, because there are things happening in my life that make me feel out of control— and I love the illusion of control— and that makes me feel unhappy. But now that I know that, it’s a short road to peaceful contentment. As long as I know the problem, I can work toward a solution.

Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for He gives to His beloved rest. — Ps 127:1-2. 

No more anxious toil, fighting the roles and responsibilities God has obviously placed in my life for today. Today: I choose quiet faithfulness.