Consumed.

I was talking to someone last week about parenting.

Their main point was that any woman that can handle more than one child, and do it with any measure of goodness, is a saint.

I quickly pointed out that once one child has consumed your heart and your life, more couldn't possibly make a bigger dent.

And later, I was thinking in the dark quiet of a new morning, about the life that God calls me to- callings that consume me.

Throughout my day, my life as a woman who belongs to God, as a wife, as a mother, and as a citizen of the world, is consumed with purpose, with meaning, with a job to do and love to pour out.  The callings fill my thoughts, my hopes, my dreams, my prayers, my time.  They keep me acutely aware of my neediness for a God who never runs out of the supply of faith, hope, love, wisdom, humor, intelligence, creativity, lavish generosity and energy that I need to keep going and not grow weary. 

These roles consume me.  Take up all my time. Take over what I want and constantly press to replace my selfishness with a compelling to give up my small perceptions of what is good, and to instead give of myself in 1000 ways- usually small, ordinary, difficult, or mundane. 

A life's work is made up of a million choices to lay your life down to something greater, to give your life away.  And the fruit of that work brings and speaks life into the world.

And I thought about the way these loves I'm called to consume me.  I can't get away, and though life is not simple or easy, I'd never want to.  I'm totally engulfed in something bright and beautiful- a great, strong fire that is good to call up the things in me that don't belong here, and to burn them away- leaving something more authentic and true, and revealing obvious evidence of the Divine.

And so I suppose this type of life can appear to be very difficult from the outside- but my heart knows, for this imperfect woman, this all-consuming call is very, very good.