A Quiet Life

Last night I sat in a living room with three other women. They’re all mothers and homeschoolers and Christ-followers, but those descriptions are lacking. One is an extremely talented singer and songwriter and musician. Another, a gifted wordsmith. The third, a counselor with wisdom and biblical insight beyond her years. None earn an income outside of the home.

And we sat, discussing the pull of culture, sipping on La Croix and passing around coffee cake. The pull of culture being the pull to forsake our calling and duties to pursue things that will make us feel valued and worthy, known and recognized. A life that is attractive. A life that inspires envy. Even the choice to live a “quiet life” beckons to be documented on Instagram. “Look, followers, as I do my small life with my children in my home. See me. Affirm me. I have burdens. Praise me. Tell me I am good.” I feel the tug.

One of those friends and I have been walking a journey this year of learning to bake and challenging one another to bake difficult things. Braided breads with lemon curd. Crusty baguettes. Chocolate chip sourdoughs.  Flaky croissants. Gooey cinnamon rolls. Even this endeavor seems countercultural at times. Choosing to allot hours in a single day to watch bread rise? Choosing to dish out warm carbohydrates to your children in a country where keto diet is king and thinness is the ultimate good? My children and I pass around the rolling pin, laughing as the baby crawls around on the floor, covered in flour. It is meaningful, even if no one sees it, right? Even if I don’t do an Instagram live of our experience? I can feel known and loved and have joy and joy to the fullest, even if I’m not the size I was at 22 and even if I’m not “crushing it” in a side hustle?   

Redefining value and worth and meaning has been a daily practice for me ever since I turned in my resignation several years ago to stay home with my first tiny baby. I remember bouncing anxiously around my two-bedroom apartment, wishing I knew the perfect trick to get him to just. stop. screaming. I would look at his bright red face and think, “sheesh. Who actually is the authority here? You dictate everything!” and it hit me… this is biblical authority. Forsaking your wants and needs. Laying down your life. Sacrificing what culture says is worth pursuing. All for another.

So, I daily have to lay down my desire to pursue the pull of culture. Because that’s what Jesus did and it’s what He called us to. We aren’t promised anything less… but we are promised so much  more.