I hear the steady rotation of clothes tumbling in the dryer and the hum of the space heater crowd out the cold air. The temperatures have dropped below freezing this week but I don’t mind. It’s warm inside and Fridays are for cleaning and laundry. River is watching a movie, earlier than I’d like to have the tv on in the day, but Cyrus woke up scared last night and I spent nearly an hour trying to fall back asleep. I’ve been awake for hours and I’m still trying to shake the exhaustion.

The holidays are over, decorations tucked away in boxes with the exception of one strand of garland that still needs to be put back in the garage. January feels like such a paradox of hopeful expectation and yet still at the precipice of winter—cold and lifeless and quiet.  I am still reminiscing the slow unfolding of the holidays and time spent together with no agenda while simultaneously contemplating my goals for the year, anxious to create new habits and rhythms. 

Many of my goals have to do with the home. We are in the process of saving up to buy our house and I plan on homeschooling Cyrus in the Fall. We are currently in the beginning stages of becoming certified for respite foster care and we plan to plant a vegetable garden in the spring. With all of these plans, I have conjured up a very distinct image in my head of how I hope it all plays out—of the home and life we are building for our family. 

In a way, we are all trying to find our way back to Eden, to the time and place before it all went wrong.

But I find myself having to continually surrender these desires to the Lord, not because they are inherently wrong or misguided, but because if I’m not careful I will find myself building up my own cozy little kingdom–exchanging my pursuit of the eternal for a cheap imitation of Heaven on earth. In a way, we are all trying to find our way back to Eden, to the time and place before it all went wrong.

Things rarely play out the way they do in our heads, though. Which is why I’m striving to hold loosely to my man-made ideas. Even if we achieved every goal on our list, there’s any number of ways things could play out. I have watched enough friends undergo the heartache and trauma that comes with opening their homes up to foster children to know it is not an easy path. I’m under no misconception of the time commitment associated with homeschooling and the lack of solitude that leaves me with to pursue other passions. I have never had much success keeping plants alive and we are a long way off from the dollar amount needed for a down payment. Yet I remain hopeful. 

Hopeful because I know by surrendering these desires to the One who is for me, He will either fulfill them, replace them, or refine me through them. Either way, His Kingdom is the goal, not my own. I’m reminded daily that unless the Lord builds the house, its workers labor in vain. (Psalm 127:1) So I’m loosening my grip and opening my hands. I’m fighting for the daily practice of gratitude and contentment in any situation. And I’m listening to that voice that keeps whispering “make room for disruption.” I’m keeping the news off and my Bible open.

There will always be a million ways things could go wrong; a hundred things to be afraid of on any given day. But the biggest threat comes when we hold too tightly to the things that were never promised. To these cozy cardboard kingdoms we are so certain hold the key to our happiness. Perhaps the greatest fulfillment will find us when we welcome God’s disruption of our perfectly laid plans. Maybe true satisfaction can only happen when we stop chasing after everything that is not Christ.