You Aren't Who You Used to Be

When I was growing up, any time we wanted to do anything as a family, there were hours of chaos and preparation, even for something as seemingly simple as a trip to the local beach. This is what it looked like for me:

1. Worry about whether the van would start.
2. Find clean towels.
3. Find the cleanest towels.
4. Find any towels at all.
5. Help my five siblings find bathing suits.
6. McGyver bathing suits for the ones who couldn’t find theirs.
7. Find the cooler.
8. Work up the courage to open the cooler because it almost certainly hadn’t been emptied the last time we used it.
9. Attempt to clean the cooler.
10. Forget about the cooler. It’s going to smell like that forever.
11. Load everyone in the van.
12. Hold my breath, and hope the van will start.
13. Hop out of the van and push it down the driveway, into the road, so mom can pop the clutch to start it.
14. Pretend the neighbors don’t notice.
15. Run next to the slowly moving van and hop in the side door, because if mom comes to a complete stop, it will stall.
16. Pretend the cars piling up behind us don’t notice the young girl jogging alongside a van in motion, attempting to jump into it, at risk to life and limb.
17. Feel the joy as we finally begin the 20-minute drive to the beach.
18. Five minutes in, begin worrying about finding a parking space on a slope…in case the van won’t start.

The whole time, my mother was yelling orders, swearing vividly in frustration, weeping audibly when something went wrong, and threatening to leave us home or abandon the trip all together if we didn’t stop fighting. Basically, every trip out of the house had an off-the-charts stress level unique to that of a single mother with six kids, not a lot of resources, and a crazy-stupid idea to do something fun with the #@&$ family. “Get in the blankety- blank van!”

Except, it wasn’t unique. Long after I was grown, I felt that same level anxiety every time we prepared to take a trip or go on an outing. I was a young woman with a supportive husband, a new car that ran perfectly, a washing machine that worked, a cooler that was stored responsibly in the garage and three children who could find their bathing suits…and I felt the same stress I felt as a kid. I felt miserable, and I made everyone else miserable too. I hadn’t noticed my new reality. I acted as if things hadn’t changed, but they had.

 Take a moment to consider your life. What haven’t you noticed? Perhaps you think you’re too stupid to go college…and you haven’t noticed that you’re smart and resourceful. Maybe you stopped dreaming about a life filled with love and companionship…and you haven’t noticed that you’re wiser and more careful now about how, and with whom, you share your heart.

 You’re not who you used to be, and when you know that, you can act like the person you are, not the person you were. You can choose to align your beliefs with the truth, and experience the joy that comes with intentionally acting on it.