August 1

 It's the first day of August, and the chill in the air feels like summer and fall are at war with one another. I'm living in denial that summer is ending - sitting on the balcony watching goosebumps prickle my skin while simultaneously slurping a popsicle. Putting on a sweatshirt would make me so much more comfortable but would also acknowledge that truth I'm trying to avoid - that summer will soon give way to bitter cold and the death of all things green. Some people call it "autumn," I'm just not that optimistic.

I'm coming to the computer today with not much to say. I have a compelling desire to create, which can feel a bit dead-endish considering I lack the patience to bake artisan bread, lack the tools to refurbish a table, and lack the skills to paint anything but the same semi-circle sunset which now covers six canvases in our guest room. Writing it is.

Last week, one of my best friends stopped by to tell me she was expecting. Honeymoon baby, a gift from God that would temporarily traumatize but eventually be realized as the most wonderful and perfectly-timed surprise. Four days later, my other best friend came with the same news. My emotions vacillated from unspeakable excitement to a peculiar discontentment that perhaps my life was suddenly less than theirs. I viewed motherhood as the pinnacle of existence rather than rejoicing in the season where God had me. That desire to create that I feel today took on a covetous, disdainful form: I wanted to have a baby.

I impulsively took a prenatal vitamin. "Our turn!" I said to Joe. I was resentful and sad when reminded me that this is not a matter that can be approached with such impulsivity. But even as I recognized that truth, I still felt like contentment was one pregnancy away, and once we took that test and got the news, I'd be happy. It's humbling to think that just over a year ago, I was saying the same thing about a job. And before that, a wedding. I was continually living as though contentment was around the corner, always longing, seeking, searching.

I prayed: God, I could just use some truth right now. 

Moments later, a friend shared an Instagram story. Olive green background, white font. Six slides, almost all of which I now struggle to remember verbatim, but the message remains. I think it was something like this:

"To the girl who is in a different season than her friends:

1. God has you here for a reason.

2. God will use you in this season.

3. Contentment is not waiting around the corner, waiting for you to find it.

4. True joy comes from walking with Christ and trusting his plan for your life.

5. Rest in that comfort today, and be present, and be thankful, and be free."

And suddenly I felt that desire to create being channeled into different excitements. A desire to create open seats at the table for struggling friends. A desire to create time in my schedule for walks with my pregnant sisters. A desire to create space to babysit when our friends needed time away. And a longing to create deeper intimacy with my husband, my church, and our God. 

I just went to put on a sweatshirt - the goosebumps won out. But I passed the prenatal vitamins and I smiled. There will be a season, if the Lord wills. But if I live so desperate to keep up with the Joneses, I'll miss out on God's purpose for me in this season. And I'll strive by my own efforts to create joy for myself, rather than finding that true joy which comes from Christ and his plan for my life. 

So autumn will come just like motherhood, and by God's grace, I'll learn to be content even then. 

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