Whelm

Some days, the world just feels way too big.

I know that there are people I know - people I love, people I respect, people with huge Facebook followings - who feel energized and excited by getting into the turmoil of the larger world. Politics, religion, social and cultural issues. There are dozens of articles to read, comments to debate, thoughts and feelings and values to examine and proclaim and decry. There are huge hurts and wounds in the world that we are all called to help to heal. We all claim some level of involvement in or responsibility for the various communities of which we are a part. We have identities, tribes, nations, genders.

With all of those identities come expectations. I should read all the books and articles that will make me a better wife, a better mother, a better writer, a better American, a better Mormon. I should talk to people and teach and lecture and correct and listen and discuss with humility and expand my network and broaden my reach. I should challenge myself, break new ground, go outside all of my comfort and stretch, stretch, stretch.

Some days that feels like too much for me.

Some days, I just want to make sure my kid eats breakfast. I just want to make my bed, and read old words that bring me peace. I want to sweep and mop and pull some weeds. I want to make bread. Check my mailbox. Feel connected to my small, immediate, physical life. I want to hug my mother. Kiss my husband. Ruffle my little boy's hair. Feel the sublime sensation of having my own hair ruffled by God and the universe and everything bigger than my self. Know that this - just this - is plenty.

(Isn't it?)