I lose something so frequently that it’s embarrassing.

The embarrassment comes because once I do find it again, I swear this time I’ll never lose it.

How could I?

When I finally have it, it feels like freedom to enjoy (or at least find gratitude in) every single second of life.

How could I lose something that valuable?

Oh, but I do.

And then, when I lose it again, I am rushed and hurried, short-fused and prone to complain.

There is *nothing* cute in my closet and my coffee was made wrong and that friend said that thing and my kids won’t eat anything I make.

My jeans feel tight and I spend the day and so much of my brain space planning my next diet to drop 5 pounds.

My daughter throws a tantrum that wakes the baby and I brood and fume and hold onto anger that ruins the rest of the day.

The crumbs in the house consume me and the outdated cabinets yell to me and the day passes being ungrateful for the home I’m in.

Days.

Whole entire days sometimes.

I waste so many hours because of losing this thing.

This precious, invaluable thing.

Perspective.

Why do I gain and lose it so much?

It hits me like a ton of bricks, changes me for a few hours, and just like that, it’s gone and I am back to a heart riddled with self-pity and complaint.

Recently, my son ended up in the ER after almost cutting his earlobe completely off. He needed 14 stitches and had to be sedated and it was a really crappy and scary day.

This day was coming off a hard few weeks with him. We had tried to re-introduce dairy, and it did not go well. He was fussy and clingy and not napping well and my heart was so full of complaint.

And then, seeing him sedated, watching his monitors, waiting for the doctor to complete his final stitch so I could hold him again – I would have traded all the naps in the world to get my fussy, determined, wild 1 year old boy back to his old self.

You swear in those moments you will never complain again about a “hard” baby or a short nap – perspective sweeps in and you realize how fleeting and sweet and beautiful it all is.

We are all one phone call, accident, diagnosis away from everything turning upside down – and while we don’t want to dwell on that in a way that provokes anxiety or fear, wouldn’t living with a least a small awareness of that keep us centered as we experience the fleeting preciousness of life?

I am so ashamed and grieved at the time I have wasted in my life focusing on things that truly, truly, truly do not matter.

When I hear about the deep, dark valleys people around me are going through- the late stage cancer diagnosis or the loss of a child, perspective envelopes me and makes me squeeze my babies and appreciate my husband and the last thing that bothers me is the snugness of my jeans.

But like I said, give it a day or two.

And there I am, looking at my face in the mirror from different angles, trying to see if it looks a little rounder.

There I am, being easily offended when a friend doesn’t reach out when I am struggling.

There I am, feeling like the whole world is ending and no one has it as hard as me when I just want to get *ONE* thing done without my daughter asking what hippos eat or my son diving off a mantle.

I think the delicateness that I am still figuring out as a mom of 2 young kids is that it is hard, but my sinful heart has a way of amplifying it beyond what it is.

It IS hard caring for needs literally around the clock. Being overwhelmed and touched out. Missing your husband and desperate for uninterrupted conversation. Having sick kids for the umpteenth week and missing yet something else you were looking forward to. Sleep deprivation. Tantrums. Snot.

It IS hard.

But, the problem for me, is I take these parenting “baseline hard” things and make myself a victim to them. They become so big in my mind, that I allow myself to get bitter.

I call it baseline hard because YES, it is hard, no question. But my husband isn’t cheating and my house is warm and no one is going hungry.

Fielding 1,000 theological questions a day from my daughter while keeping my son from the ER is emotionally and physically draining, but what would some people give for two beautiful, healthy children?

This is the line I am working on walking.

How can I validate that these are hard seasons as my husband and I parent young kids, without losing perspective, losing days and weeks and months of this precious life and feeling like a victim to it?

I don’t have the answers yet.

I talk often with my Mom friends about how desperately we want the Holy Spirit to empower us to handle these hard moments of parenting and life without going off the deep end emotionally.

The Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.

I don’t want the only reason I can have a healthy and wonderful perspective on life to be because something horrible happens and teaches me once and for all.

I want to daily walk through my hardships with an appreciation that this is a hard season, but it IS a season and I cannot let the worries of the day completely -especially the meaningless ones like tight jeans and ugly cabinets rob me of my joy.

I don’t want to keep losing and finding perspective over and over again.

Every time I lose it I am losing precious, precious minutes, hours, days that I will not get back.

My prayer moving forward is to be so rooted in the joy and gratitude of the Lord, that I will not be so shaken by the regular ups and downs of the day. That others would see me as someone who finds the good in the tough circumstances and does not lose perspective – at least as often as I do currently.

I am far from that right now, as those closest to me could attest to, but He is not finished with me yet.

I hope that He does such a work in me – the one who is so easily consumed by self and complaint – that it is undeniable evidence to others of a Living, active God.

Perspective helps me hang onto the joy that God promises.

I don’t want to lose it anymore.