Last Updated on February 15, 2024 by Stacy Averette
There are lots of ways to measure life.
I’ve recently discovered a new and painful way.
I sensed I was measuring it wrong, though not immediately. To learn the lesson I had to sit with the pain first.
A New Family Command Center
Google “family command center” and in 0.6 seconds you’ll get 454 million search results. True story.
“Create a command center,” they say. “It’ll help your family get organized and run more efficiently.”
“Who doesn’t need more organization and efficiency?” I think.
Me, as it turns out.
Well, it’s not what I need most right now but I won’t know that until I create one.
Isn’t it just like us, humans, to think a calendar, corkboard, and pretty pens will solve all of life’s problems?
I set aside the mess in my heart and with a little Pinterest inspiration I gather what I think I need.
There were a few years when a large calendar from Walmart was all I needed. Shiny gold thumbtacks, the kind you have to pull out with your fingernails, affixed it to the hollow core door that leads to the laundry room.
Back when the house was full of people with lots of dirty clothes, hanging a big calendar there was ingenious. The fact that the laundry room door is in the pantry didn’t hurt either. You could eat a Honey Bun while staring at the calendar and making your mark on a day in the future.
But today that just won’t do.
In a perfect life, I’d replace that 1970’s builder’s grade hollow door with a new one. (What does it mean that I measure life by what kind of doors hang on hinges in a home I don’t yet fully own? Don’t answer that.)
I choose a simpler option.
If a fresh coat of paint helps me every morning, surely it can do the same for an old door?
Using some left-over chalk paint I had from an earlier project made the task go quickly. I was pleased with the results.
I took the items I’d gathered and laid them out on the dingy vinyl floor. After a bit of rearranging in an effort to create the perfect command center, I was satisfied with my efforts and gathered the appropriately named Command Strips for hanging the items that would create my perfect family command center.
A homemade “home”, a small calendar, corkboard, and a few thrifted items came together almost as I’d envisioned.
Beautiful + Functional + Thrifty = the perfect anything in my world.
And this command center checks all the boxes.
The perfect, centralized location to make plans, record appointments, mark important dates and save invites all while enjoying a delicious snack.
“In no time my home should be organized and run more efficiently,” I say to myself as I stand back and admire my creativity.
Yet months later, the calendar is blank.
And I’m in pain.
Birth Pains
There was a season of life when no permission was necessary. Diaper changes, eating, and sleeping were done as needed. All coming and going was done cradled in arms, balanced on hip, or strapped in safety. I thought those days were hard. The season passed. I survived
Then came the season when permission was necessary but had to be taught. Lines were drawn. Instructions were given. Reinforcement was regular. Consequences were swift. Bedtime. TV time. Chore time. I thought those days were hard. The season passed. I survived.
Another season came where permission was followed by questions. “Why can’t I go?” “When can I leave?” “How long can I stay?” Thankfully, they were cautious and respectful. So lines were moved, instructions were revised, reinforcement was regular, and consequences . . . well . . . I thought those days were hard. The season passed. I survived.
And now that blasted, beautiful, command center reminds me that another season has come. We’re back to where we started from. No permission is necessary. I am the mother of adults. And adults don’t need permission to live and work and play and celebrate. At least not in this house.
We planned it that way. And now we have what we always wanted and prayed for. We trained and encouraged them to be obedient to us and then to Jesus when He became their Lord. They learned the lesson well.
They seek His permission alone. I’d be wrong to stand in the way of that. I’ve always wanted my children to “rise up and call me blessed”.
“A Pinterest perfect command center should do the trick,” I thought.
But they hardly noticed. I had to point it out.
Labor Pains
I work hard. The pain is intense.
I give birth to a new season.
I create the perfect family command center and they create a life—an abundant life in Christ.
It’s the best of both worlds for all of us.
My phone dings at the office one afternoon.
“A prayer was just answered,” his text reads.
“What?” I ask.
“I’ll tell you when you get home.”
He wants us both to hear. It’s not the kind of thing you share in a text.
Later he texts, “Have y’all left yet?”
Prayers answered are anxiously waiting to be shared.
We hear the news. It’s good. But he doesn’t write it on the calendar in the family command center.
No worries. I’ve written it on my heart.
Lesson Learned
It’s early in this no-permission-required season. I’m a beginner even though I’ve been here for years. I’ve made some mistakes. Drawn lines where they didn’t belong. Gave instructions when they weren’t requested. Reinforced where it wasn’t needed.
They’re inter-dependent.
And their interdependence is strong. We all need each other in a new way. Sometimes they’re better at it than me.
I do my best to give my blessing, to cheer them on, to sit with them and their questions without being too quick with a solution. I want to hold space for who they’re becoming, by God’s design and in His time.
So I leave the calendar blank to remind me that He’s writing their story and mine.
These days are hard. I’ll survive.
Because of the LORD’s great love, we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 2:22-23
