With....

Just so you know, I am having to squish my arms in between piles of stuff on my desk to reach my keyboard. I would move the stuff to the floor or put it away, but I have two obstacles:

1) The floor is covered with yet more stuff.
2) I am in the middle of doing something with all of it.

Once again, I am working on one of my famous budget Christmases where I make gifts at home. Always so entertaining for a non-crafter like me to do this. Add in some laundry, some school stuff, some paperwork, amazon boxes of gifts, some other random things and I think my office/guest room might sink into the earth. It's only getting worse as I deal with light bulbs delightedly burning out this week, a kitchen sink evilly overflowing everywhere, a load of laundry dyed pink (by me--no one else to blame), a Cricut mat wearing out just when I needed it most so that I could be tortured by the over-stickiness of a new one (skip that Cricut item if you don't know what I'm talking about), and my fingers swathed in bandages as new cracks open in my skin every 5 minutes from dry weather.

I am scrambling to fit things into my days (and my office/guest room). Yet, I am still acutely aware of my conviction that my kids and husband need to see joy in me this time of year and all too often, that's exactly what I lack. I've had a few slips, a few minor meltdowns, but I have not sold out to the place I tend to go--joylessness and duty.

Tonight, as I drove toward my house, I asked God what he requires of me in these days that seem to hold too much.

Do justly.
Love mercy.
Walk humbly with your God.

Oh. OK. Well, I asked, but that didn't really help me figure out whether to first tackle a mountain of laundry or a Christmas gift or an e-mail reply long overdue or a math paper needing to be graded or school planning or stretching exercises or planning Christmas food or any of the rest of it. In fact, I was a bit irritated.

Then, it came.
Walk humbly with God.
I can't even pull off my own life, the days in front of me.
To acknowledge that is humility.
Seeing my finite physical and emotional capacity for what it is.
Yet I am invited, commanded to walk with God.
The One with limitless capacity, limitless power.
He didn't tell me to run ahead or scout out other paths for him.
He just said, "Walk."

It's the "with" part I really like.
I get to walk WITH him.
I don't really know what I'll do when I'm done typing.
I do know it will be WITH God.
And where does that leave me?
Back at Christmas.
Immanuel.
God with us.
God with me.