A Work in Progress, as it Should Be

One day, a walk across the driveway changed my whole perspective.

One year ago

When Edwin was two weeks old, we packed up and moved.  Actually, Francis and a few wonderful friends packed up and moved while I lay in bed with my baby and (thanks to this inspiration) refused to care about the method of packing and organization (or lack thereof) meeting my careful standards.

Moving Day.  I just had a baby, Ok?

Back when the cottage was under construction. That bump is Edwin.

We had the opportunity to live in a lovely little cottage on my parent's acreage, and the support of family next door was invaluable, and worth the craziness of the move.

That said, next time I have the option to move within weeks of a baby being due, I will probably run in the opposite direction, or waddle as the case may be.

Moving with a newborn is an experience I'd gladly leave in the once-in-a-lifetime category.

Suffice it to say settling in has been long process. 

After moving. Sums up my feelings on the matter.

Some months later, as I walked across the driveway to take out the garbage, I glanced over at our new home with a sigh. The porch was piled high with an unsightly arrangement of items begging to be sorted - recycling, donations, and household supplies. It was one more thing to add to the unrelenting to-do list.  I was a new mom still trying to figure out how to accomplish anything and that pile was a reminder how futile it all felt.

 I shrugged and sighed,
"It's a work in progress."

Then I heard a little voice in my head.  
"If it's not in progress, then what is it?"

And suddenly the lightbulb went on.

I had always used the expression "a work in progress" in a negative way - an admission of something lacking; a failing that I hoped to correct one day.

But then came the question, and I knew the answer.

"If this life, this work, isn't in progress...then what is it?"

Stagnant. Lifeless. Not as it should be.

 This life is a work in progress; growing, changing; we strive to attain something better.

If ever we find ourselves thinking, "ah, the work in progress is over, now life is settled and we can sit back and enjoy it," we'd better be wary of what curveball is coming next.

We will never reach that state of perfection here on earth; there is always improvement to me made, so we'd just better keep trying, and embrace the work in progress. We are intended to move towards something more beautiful, more perfect, more holy.

I try to remember now, and it helps in many discouraging moments - little breakfast-table messes and deeply spiritual trials.  When, just as I finish bringing order to one task another one looms in chaos.  When I've finally figured out a good daily routine and then my baby's sleep patterns change and I'm starting from scratch.   When I'm starting to improve in one area of virtue only to discover some other vice is taking hold.

My courage and peace are renewed when I focus on this simple idea:

It is all a work in progress, as it should be.