As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:38-42

Sooooooo…

I’m a Martha. Seriously. I am totally and completely Martha.

In fact, I have a timer set for how long I have to write this post* because I have a list of a million other things I need to get done. A million ways I later will realize I’m behind. I won’t catch up. But I’ll try.

This isn’t an Advent thing. This is a Me thing.

I wasn’t always a Martha. In fact for many years I was a Mary.

I would watch and look and see everything, and I would wait so patiently to watch it all unfold.

I would jump and dream.

I would ride, and ride. (Without a helmet of course- DO NOT tell my kids) And I would rest in the Lord and wait upon him, and I just knew everything would work out.

But then anxiety came and stayed. And slowly I didn’t have time to be a Mary, because Martha moving could make sure things worked and turned, and were finished. Martha was dependable. Martha was in control. Martha was a peace maker, because she made sure that everyone he was taken care of. Martha could be on time, and would stay late to help clean up. Martha shows up. Martha made sure lunches were made, and kids got homework done and showered…even if that meant she didn’t get time to herself. But there were things to do.

Martha gets shit done.

And that doesn’t mean Martha has it all together. Martha is on the verge of falling apart a lot of the time because her “no” is broken, she doesn’t get enough sleep, and knows things don’t always work out. She gets that now.

I often don’t have a lot of patience for Mary. I’m embarrassed to admit that.

I just don’t know how to make time to be a Mary.

Maybe it’s the pace of life. Everything is moving too damn fast. Or the heartache that comes with growing older…watching marriages break apart and dissolve, watching people grieve their children, take care of their aging parents. Maybe it’s watching my children’s faces changing, as they grow into their own people, and it makes every part of my being ache.

So I’m a Martha.

I love Jesus. And I will drop and pray with anyone, and be there for them…but when it comes the day to day stuff, the lists I have to try to get done, I expect others to do their part. Be there. Show up. I give grace, and I am a team player- I don’t have to be in charge, in fact I would prefer not to be. I’m not even type A, I’m type F. So actually in retrospect I’m kind of a crappy Martha.

Yesterday it just kind hit me. That right now, in this busy pace, I need to be more like Mary.

Because few things are needed. And I need to choose to let go a little. Not because it’s Advent. But because I am really really struggling. And I think it’s because I’ve been trying so hard to keep it together. And I can name about 20 women I know right now struggling with this.

This is real life. And right now we are all on the verge of falling apart.

And it’s not because we want to do it all. Or even that we think we can. It’s because somehow along the way we just kept adding things, and carrying them. So much so when we sit in Church, our arms are so full of stuff, we can’t even clasp our hands to pray. And if we open them, we may have to admit it’s all getting heavy.

We’ve become hyper sensitive, because we’re just trying to hold it together. And we see all these other Martha’s doing it better, and we’re jealous of the Mary’s and their care free faith.

Damn you social media, and your filters, and Pinterest…only because I hate Pinterest. I don’t need a clip board of a better way to do laundry…I just need someone to DO my laundry.

And then there’s the part I never want to admit…

For me it’s also acknowledging that I live with a constant underlying sense of inadequacy. I need to prove myself. I need to prove that I am a good enough wife, mother, coworker, that I can accomplish big hard things. That if my kids are successful, maybe just maybe maybe, that means I was too. Because maybe it will prove that even when no one believed I could…I did. And then eventually, maybe, I’ll see that.

Martha had to prove herself.

Mary…she believed. And she found grace. And it’s been my entire life’s goal for my kids. To never feel this way. To never fight this battle. To never feel pitted against others. To just be the beautiful children of God they are meant to be. Good Humans. Believe, and of course work hard, but believe and sit and know God loves them.

I almost pulled over the day I started writing this because on the radio I heard a beautiful quote…God doesn’t want our success, He wants our surrender.

So here I am, a self professed, falling apart trying to prove myself mess of a Martha, giving my surrender.

I surrender. I’m waving my white flag God. I’m right here.

Surrendering. Choosing God. My Faith above all. Even when I know it won’t always work out. Being like Mary.

My Faith…will not be taken from me.

So suck it Pinterest.

I’m just gonna pray.

*my timer went off 8 times writing this post, over a five day period. And my laundry still isn’t caught up.