fudged scales

My scales are fudged.  I admit it.  I am not ultra talented at juggling all of the roles I have in life. Sometimes I enjoy giving off the appearance of having my act together because I don't want to face the fact that I simply do NOT have my act together.  It's easier to present as the great and powerful Wizard of Oz ... that is, until someone looks behind the curtain.  Darn you Toto! (this is why I'm a cat person, I can relate to Garfield)

Fibromyalgia is a mean beast.  You MUST move your body but the very last thing you want to do is move your body.  Most days I am able to push through it (even if it takes 4 cups of coffee to get the ball rolling), but some days, all I can do is thank God for my blessings from the comfort of my recliner.

My husband is my biggest fan and my biggest cheerleader.  He encourages me to go for a walk, even if I only make it around the block.  What he knows about me and about the inner workings of my mind scares me a little because I think he gets me more than I get myself.  (which leads me down the A.D.D. bunnt trail of pondering the amazing brain power of God and how He sees us - even though He isn't human and therefore has no brain. (You can thank Dallas Willard for that little nugget of thought-provoking information.)

So what happens is my husband gets me to change into workout clothes so I can "go around the block" but he KNOWS that once I start moving, my inner athlete comes out (but please, I'm not a runner or anything inspirational like that) and I want to see how fast I can walk.

Then I want to see how fast I can walk a mile.
And then I want to see if I can increase my pace on the second mile.
Then I want to see if I can go further than I did the day before.

And then I look like this when I get home and I can't get off the floor:

And my husband just shakes his head and says, "Looks like you over-did it again." - or some other incredibly obvious statement to which I would roll my eyes if I could move my eyes.  But, he knows full well I won't just go around the block.  He knows I will push myself.  Which is what I love about him.

Me and the word "balance" go together like the wrong sides of two magnets.  I either seem to slide to the left or to the right, resulting in either too much of something or too little of it.  I can make an entire list of magnet examples where I just stink at hitting the mark:

  • CLEANING: I'm either going through cupboards, making piles of things to donate or I'm ignoring the 1/4" layer of dust on my dresser.  There is no in between.
  • SCRIPTURE READING:  I'm either staying up until midnight so I can finish the book of John, or I'm ... well, see reference about the dust and imagine it on the cover of my bible.
  • MOTHERHOOD:  I'm either the cool mom making cookies with her son after school or I'm the mom who doesn't care that he is watching his 11th episode of Good Luck Charlie on Netflix.
  • MARRIAGE: I'm either the wife who is playing house and makes sure everything is Cleaver-perfect for her husband, or I'm passing the nanny baton with my husband so I can go do a world of other things with friends or at church or whatever.
  • PROJECTS: I'm either knocking them out left or right, or I'm ... oh boy, there's that dust again, but this time it's in my office and on my sewing machine!
In Proverbs 11, I am quite certain verse 1 is in regards to telling the truth, but I have to say it resonates with me in terms of finding a balance in life as well: 
The Lord detests dishonest scales, but accurate weights find favor with Him Proverbs 1:11
 Accurate weights find favor with Him. I picture a literal scale with perfectly balanced plates.

So perhaps if I spent a short amount of time in the Word, and tackle just a handful of cleaning tasks (clearly dust is a problem around here), then I will WANT to do something fun with my husband and my boy and I will find JOY in conquering projects.  And with fibromyalgia every single day HAS to be about balance.  If I spend all my energy scrubbing the house from top to bottom, I'll spend the rest of the day flat on my back in bed.  If I go run a bunch of errands for hours on end, I won't even be able to put the groceries away by myself when I get home.

I believe it is pleasing to God when we use our resources wisely and we balance out all of the good and amazing things there are to do in this world with the things we are called to do, and called to do well.  Don't be dishonest with yourself or your family (or with God because He sees right through that anyhow) and fudge your scales.  Don't set your bible by your bed so people think you read it.  Don't plaster your house with bible verses so you appear to be the perfect Christian.  Don't post happy family pictures on Facebook if in reality it was the only 3 seconds you spent together all weekend.  Don't fudge your scales.

Praying for a perfect tightrope act today - not to please anyone except myself and God.  (there will be no tights worn during this act - let's not get crazy, yes?  No one wants to see me in tights, myself included!)

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