Since I was a little girl, I have turned to the power of the written word for everything from documenting the day’s mundane joys to navigating tumultuous waves of change. My journal entries are a testament to the life I have lived. The words on the page have not been challenged by anyone but myself when I reread old entries and see where the “dots” of my life have connected to reveal a larger picture. 

I’m staring at a page full of dots that have yet to be fully connected. 

While the dots of childcare and my girls’ transition into full-time school mode are mostly connected, the nagging feeling that I wish I was home for the mundane routines subtly tugs at my attention. 

Although I don’t have tenure for another two years in my “new” position (currently in year 3), more of those dots of uncertainty are being connected each day–even in the face of new challenges. 

Then…

 I turn to the side of my life where the dots have a mind of their own without connecting lines that I can see right now. 

My husband and I are deep into a major renovation of an 1888 farmhouse. His phone keeps ringing with our contractor and architect on the other end with more news. 

The foundation under the kitchen is unstable and can be moved with your hand. More demo and another foundation pour is needed. 

That’s another $30,000 check. 

I didn’t want to have to make this phone call, but the second floor of the house is so off that you’ll never be able to hang the sheetrock properly. The roof wasn’t properly supported and it’s putting pressure on the second floor walls, pushing them outward and out of alignment. More demo and a reframe of the entire second floor from scratch. 

That’s another price to be named. 

When we bought this house almost a full year ago to date, we knew we were in for a long and incredibly expensive road, but it was an answer to prayers for more space and a full house. 

At the moment, the unconnected financial and logistical dots feel more like structural problems of their own. 

I have to have faith that it will all work out. Faith often means taking the first step even when you can’t see the staircase. 

Well… 

The majority of our staircases are invisible. 

Literally and metaphorically. 

For now, faith, architectural blueprints, and Pinterest boards of inspiration will have to do. 

While we physically build our new home, we will be welcoming a new member of our family in early March. From blueprints to sonograms, our family life is changing in every way. In both instances, we can choose to wait in joyful anticipation and acknowledge that, beyond a certain point, many forces are simply out of our control. 

Some days this release of control comes easily, and others… not so much. If I had to categorize this journal entry of sorts, it would definitely be under navigating waves of change. 

For whatever reason–I’m not going to question it–the waves feel less tumultuous and more like ebbs and flows. 

I can attribute some of my ability to move through the chaos to the systems I have built slowly over the years. The childcare “chart” I send out to our village of help every weekend takes the mental burden off of me to remember everyone’s every move. We don’t have a digital calendar. Our system is free… brought to us by Google Docs and a screenshot to text messages. 

The clothes organizer system that sits unapologetically and unaesthetically in our dining room enables everyone from my kids to their grandparents to have everything they need in one place, whether I am home for the routines or not. 

If I had not put these systems in place over the past three years, I am positive that the house stress and new baby worries and usual workload would have left me feeling totally unhinged. 

And perhaps the opposite is true at the same time: the challenges and life changes of the past decade are my blueprints that show life unfolds as God intends. Maybe the connected picture is not what we expected, but it usually is much more than we could have imagined. 

So on an October morning, with more dots than connecting lines, I did what I have always done. 

I started writing. 

With our cozy house overflowing with blessings and burdens we are lucky to carry, I am filled with the faith that the blueprints of our life will come together– one dot, one 2×4, one addition–at a time, in God’s time.