An empty bucket makes the loudest sound.

I’ve lost my edge, I think.

I’m typically a wound up top—let me go, and I spin until I crash into the wall.

And not one glorious bang, but several awkward thumps that make you want to squint and look away.
I changed that this week. I’m always perplexed at the idea of not changing. Old dog, new tricks and all that. There are some people who throw up their hands and go, “I am who I am,” and I’ve never related to that.

I am who I am…this week.

I used to think maybe I was roughly two percent sociopath. I mean if everyone else so uniquely and utterly themselves, why do I play into these different parts of myself like trying on wigs? But I don’t hate the thought so much anymore. Being restrained to one thing forever? Now that’s what scares me.

God sometimes is the ultimate conductor. I imagine Him watching, perfectly timing my crescendo at the ultimate point so there’s nothing for me to do but to swallow down my own reverberations and think hard on whether or not I ever want to hear my own noise again.

What I’m saying is this: I’ve gotten to the point where I’ve let stress own me. I’m an all or nothing human being. My all? Homeschooling an ADHD child, morphing into a gym rat, OCD organizing my home, living at Wal-Mart (why? nobody knows), being involved in forty-two ministries at church (most of them I don’t even think I officially signed up for, they just sort of bloomed like a well-meaning but exhausting flower), and seeking out people I can pour into on the daily.

My bucket was empty you guys, and God sent it clanging down the well.

So I’ve changed things this week. Did you know you can do that? You can just go, “yeah no more,” and make life worth living again? I’m just working out three times a week now, not five, and reduced my exercises. I’ve come to the realization there’s no possible way my house could be more organized and refuse to freak out if I see a lone sock on the living room floor. Deep breaths and all that. I’m loving and learning the ways of my child (thank you, podcasts) and getting more in tune with her needs as she gets older. I’ve broken up with Wal-Mart (we still see each other on grocery days—awkward but necessary), I’m putting more intention into my church duties now that my overall plate is a little lighter, and this has seeped into my personal relationships with those I’m spending time with.

You are not just the way you are; you are the way you choose to be.

With God’s grace we get do-overs every twenty-four hours. Heck, every second of the day really.
When I remember that, I don’t beat myself up. I just keep true to the p-word (perseverance—let’s just go ahead and clear that up) and walk in step with My Lord who’s always waiting with living water.

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