“What are you doing now?” I try not to let my words fumble out and search for an answer to the well-intended question. How do I say I’m learning to make pasta sauce from scratch, taking afternoon walks, and still raising a 12-year-old without sounding too boring? The question feels so loaded; though it’s only light conversation. It feels like I should answer with something more — riveting. I want to say I am flourishing.
Who gets to decide one life is more exhilarating than another? What board decides the value of life’s excitement? What makes one life more abundant than someone else’s?
I quickly searched for words; something innocuous, nothing untrue, but still hoping to make my life after the loss of my son from pediatric cancer somewhat inspiring. “Oh, I’m taking time to be with my family. I am looking for something, a job with only a few hours a week, just not sure what yet.” At least it was an answer which I hoped sounded interesting.
Why isn’t pasta sauce trial and error enough? I am genuinely loving my new time at the stovetop. What makes us hesitate when we don’t feel good enough in someone else’s eyes? Why do we let someone else speak into our hearts?
John 10 tells me of a shepherd who calls his sheep. They know his voice so well they follow only him and never follow a stranger. The sheep will even run from an outsider, not knowing their voice. The voices we hear that aren’t Jesus can be loud. My own voice can sometimes be the most deafening. How do we long for The Shepherd’s call to be all we hear?
Listening to our Shepherd, the Gatekeeper, can be an ongoing struggle. John 10:1 says if anyone tries to get in any other way they are robbers and thieves. Listening to only our Shepherd’s voice and not the voices of thieves trying to rob our thoughts can be an ongoing struggle. David in Psalm 16 says “I bless the Lord who gives me counsel; in the night also my heart instructs me … I have set the Lord always before me … he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.” He praised the Lord for his boundary lines falling in “pleasant places.” (vs.6) David was leaning into The Shepherd, not letting the world shake him.
I met my pickup person in the JCPenney’s parking lot. We backed our cars up trunk to trunk. Packed tight in the tupperware, too hot to hold onto, was my first home-cooked pasta meal for the family spending a great deal of unexpected time in the hospital. Never before has anyone wanted a meal from me, unless you count a good 30-minute pizza delivery. The hospital, it’s a familiar place, and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
When asked what we are doing with our days we need not worry if they are boring in someone else’s eyes. Our Shepherd holds our boundary lines. My answers may be filled with seemingly mundane, day-to-day tasks of spelling tests, lake walks, and stovetop sauces. But, these are the answered prayers of simple wants I laid before God many years ago. These, even simple days, are abundant, says John 10:10, if we enter the gate by the Good Shepherd, Jesus. These are the boundary lines that the Lord has laid for me. Not only are they pleasant days, they are flourishing.
About the Author:
Stephanie McKeever is a wife and a mom to three guys, one who gets to live with Jesus. She writes with honesty and levity about disability and grief, and hopes to guide you towards the goodness of God throughout it all. You can find her near St. Louis, Missouri feeding her turkeys at the backdoor. She writes at StephanieMcKeever.com or catch her on Instagram @stephmckeever.
Connect with Stephanie:
www.Instagram.com/stephmckeever/
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