I’m high on ideas and low on energy most all the time these days.

The curse of being an ideator is that you always, always have more ideas and more extravagant ideas than you could ever accomplish. I’ve found that my ideation has been in overdrive since having children. And, of course, what awful timing, as there is so little margin in these full days of nurturing little ones.

Most of my ideas have to do with my home—what I’d like to change, enhance, the spaces I’d like to create or recreate, etc. Maybe life feels ever so slightly out of control at times, at the very least chaotic, and I believe serenity will come to me via throw pillows and lampshades.

HOME is our epicenter in these years with young ones. Someday soon, the ball field or school or ballet class will be our epicenter, but for now, it’s right here. At home. And I cherish it more than I can articulate. I love home. I love our home. And I love the feeling of creating a place for us to enjoy together—functional, beautiful, interesting, creative, familiar.

But too often, the piles become unwieldy, every single surface seems submerged, I have one hundred new thoughts and the energy of a sloth, and my eyes just glaze over. It feels “debilitating” as The Nester wrote in her beautiful post this morning (so worth taking the time to read). Yes, debilitating.

Making and keeping a soulful space for myself and my family is, all at once, impossible. My head is full and spinning, and I can’t get up off the couch. Cue a tiny little whisper of despair.

Then, yesterday, I went to church. And something really magical happened. Wanida was up in front and Linsey was sitting next to me, both with the most beautiful, brazen voices. When Wanida would sing harmony, Linsey would sing melody, and then they’d switch, like they’d practiced it. But, they hadn’t. It was just happening. Strong, free, shameless voices.

Also, Scott Wildey gave probably his best message ever from Ecclesiastes about where we find purpose and meaning. I was reminded that “there isn’t enough out there” to fill up our voids (to quote Anne Lamott). All is chasing the wind. The big trick—which is both the good news and the bad news—is that we must first experience that home within before we will ever, ever find it out there.

So, in the spirit of beginning again, I am asking God to come into the manic ideas and panicked brain, and give me rest from my own machine of a mind. To show me what I need to attend to and what I need to let go of. To help me find compassion for myself.

He answered my prayer with a Chargers win, which I will take. And, also, through the ministry of voices—lusty, audacious, vulnerable, free voices. Calling me away from my own small thinking and into the spacious place. Thank you, and Amen.

I can guarantee you that sometime tomorrow I will make a stop back in crazy-town. Absolutely 100% gonna happen. I’m praying that God will meet me there and remind me that he has more for me. And, together, we will begin again.

As Wanida belted out:

“Let me be singing when the evening comes.”