Loving easy

I love easy.

No, really. I really love easy.

A pack of nabs, wrinkle-free clothes, crock pots, auto-draft, evites.

And sleeping in. Oh, and staying home. And letting somebody else. You know what I mean. Just letting somebody else.

Who's with me?

About three months ago, my love affair with easy took a downturn. Don't get me wrong. I'm still infatuated with easy. Daily I fight for easy.

But I've realized therein is my problem.

Precious baby John joined the Thomsen ranks behind two-year-old brother Will back in April, and easy took a vacation. A long one. In fact, I'm not sure if easy is coming back.

Now again, let me disclaim this entire post: If it sounds like complaining, forgive me. I don't intend it to. If it sounds ungrateful, or selfish, or whatever the adjective is, go ahead and think it. If it sounds like true confessions of a woman whose profession (motherhood) is challenging her beyond her wildest imagination, then hear me out. We're tracking.

We took a three-day family vacation to Hilton Head this week. After crawling back up into the front seat at midnight on the drive home from consoling John in the inferno, straight-jacket, torture-chair contraption otherwise known as a car seat (his words, not mine), I bemoaned to Ryan:

I don't think I'm cut out for newborns. I do everything I know to do. I've switched formulas five times, I've put the pacy back a thousand, I've bounced, I've rocked, I've walked, I've swayed, I've worn, I've strolled, I've burped, I've swaddled, I've vacuumed, I've darkened, I've medicated, I've read, I've literally typed "Does it get easier?" into Google, I've cried, I've thrown my hands up. Meanwhile, friends on Facebook are posting their home made dinner menus for the week, pictures of their kids reading during home school and other pictures of their newborns napping in strollers at the pool. (Babies do that?)

Does anyone else have this problem but me? 

Newborns are unpredictable. I don't like unpredictable. Newborns are just impossible to figure out!

Newborns aren't easy. 

In his usual cool, unintentionally insightful way, Ryan responded, "But don't you like a challenge?"

I mulled over his comment the rest of the drive home.

The  next day (the day after vacation, which by the way, I hereby declare to be Dooms Day), Will put grass in the lawnmower's gas tank, John cried, Will spilled his apple juice (three times?), John cried, Will pooped and stuck his hand in his diaper, John cried, Will climbed out of his crib, onto the window sill, and broke the blinds in his bedroom when he was supposed to be napping. And John cried.

Later that night, I crawled into my bed, got out my Bible (was that dust on it?), and joined John in his favorite past time.

I only had a few minutes, but in the quiet, the sweet Holy Spirit met with me:

Stop loving easy.

Stop craving comfort. Stop waiting for each day to "get better." Stop complaining about the job being hard. (And stop being surprised when it is.) Stop wondering when it will end. Stop striving for convenience.

 Work hard, with love and gratitude, and stop loving easy.

It was like I got hit in the head with a two by four, except much better. The Holy Spirit enlightened my heart to a sweet reality. I was convicted (still am), but it felt wonderful. 

Ending my love affair with easy means I get to begin one with rewarding. I get to meet strength and perseverance coming from a place I know isn't me. 

The day after the day after vacation (Redemption Day), John seemed to cry a little less. Or maybe it was just because I quit expecting him not to. 

Perspective changes everything.

By the power of the One who never once loved easy (the Cross, hello), I'm putting an end to my love affair. May I love rewarding, may I love persevering, may I love His presence at work in me, but may I never settle for loving easy again.

They're worth it.