There’s A Compressor In My Bedroom


I just can’t. Y’all. (It’s bad when this not-so-southern girl has to say, “y’all”). Don’t you feel like there is just too much? For instance: I have a compressor in my bedroom.You know, one of those things that inflates tires or shoots nails into boards? Yeah. In my bedroom. It’s still in the box from Christmas and is something my husband has wanted for a loooonnngggg time and he was so excited to get it and… it is in the room where I sleep. Not one of the TWO storage sheds in our backyard. I know this month has been a bit crazy. I know he’s perfect in every other way. Just hang on. I just need to know something…

Why can’t we just finish stuff?!

It’s not just the compressor, but every other thing I don’t get done in a day. The laundry: washed, dried, folded, yet never makes it into a drawer. The dishes: loaded in the dishwasher, some hand-washed, that take days to make it back to their particular spot in the cupboard. The five water bottles that roll around on the floorboard of the car, screaming for someone to take them in the house! The water bill, the recycling, the half-read book… all of it.


Do you ever wonder if Laura Ingalls Wilder felt like this? Did she get the dough made and forget to put in on the fire? I’m sure one night she forgot to fill the lamps with oil for the next morning. Maybe she went into town and bought pig feed from Oleson’s Mercantile, and on the way home, she had wagon issues, and forgot about the purchase, and left it on the wagon, and a critter got in it, and it went bad. Maybe?

I obviously don’t know, but my feeling like an overwhelmed wife and mother cannot be a new concept. Even as I type this, I’m realizing that I don’t necessarily feel overwhelmed, but I just don’t want to do it. (Wonder where my kids get it.) I don’t always want to be responsible. I don’t want to meal plan or vacuum or get up at 5:30. I’d rather not stop for gas or replace air filters or discipline one of my angels.

But here I am and it all has to be done.

Words of encouragement, as we trudge through the mundane

  1. Know where your identity lies.

Who you are is not defined by what you do or don’t do. Your worth as a wife and mother is not reflected in the shine on your granite countertop. Frozen chicken nuggets for dinner does not make you a candidate for “The Worst Cooks in America” on Food Network. You were called to something bigger. To change generations. To define what a woman is for your little ones. To live as a healed, strong, perfectly imperfect, wife. To check up on your neighbors and listen to that voice inside of you. Maybe that’s even God. He has something bigger for you, with or without a dusted dresser.

  1. Let’s find some margin.

A flat tire or spoiled milk is much easier to absorb if we have margin in our lives. What does that mean? Don’t fill your day so full that there is no room for the unexpected. Our family calls it “living interruptable.” Make space for the friend who needs a friend or the kid that needs some extra cuddles. Sometimes we have packed our day so tightly that there is no room for anything else to squeeze in, especially not the incidentals. And dare I say, road rage would lessen if we had left more time to get to work? Busyness is not the answer to relieving that overwhelmed feeling, for sure. Figure out how to add a cushion where all the mess of the day can fall.

  1. Laugh more.

Girls! We have got to lighten up! We have got to find the funny in the day! We have got to stop taking ourselves so seriously! Seriously. The last thing I want my legacy to be is, “my mom never laughed with us.” When I look back on the best times of my life, no matter the age or marital status or degree of mommyhood, they are all characterized by the amount of laughter. Let’s be women who create happiness, not drama.

  1. Count it all as joy.

Let’s be honest. Everything I’ve mentioned in this post- a dishwasher, granite countertops, and frozen foods, are all things afforded to us because of the country in which we live. What if we looked at these things as bringers of joy and not vehicles of frustration? If we lived in 75% of the world, these items would not only be unavailable, but unnecessary. Can we decide that we are going to live as though we are blessed and not cursed? A blessing is given, joy is a choice. Even through times that don’t feel so rich, we can decide to walk in a spirit of joy.

The truth is, I could always stand to be more disciplined. I need to follow through on the everyday goings-on around my house. I could take the compressor to the shed. But there is truth in knowing that within the mundane there is Life. Life in a thriving marriage and these three amusing humans that follow us around. It will never all get finished, but we’re ok, right? We are all ok.

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Jill grew up in the Washington, DC area and migrated south for college. She has a degree in Religious Education from Gardner-Webb University and also got her MRS. degree there. She married a fine southern gentleman, Heath, in 2001 and they have three kids: Will, Micah, and Lydia. Traveler. Homemaker(ish). TV watcher. Crafter. Natural birth advocate. Spanish speaking wannabe. Minivan driver. Organic shopper. Beach lover. Mosquito hater. Jill's resume is littered with randomness. She has recently hung up her hat in the preschool world to write and speak and be able to greet her kids with fresh gluten free cookies and almond milk, as they joyfully skip through the door after school. (Mom of the Year!) Check out her Interrupted Life at


  1. So interesting because I was having the discussion about not finishing projects just last weekend with my daughters and Ted. It’s hard to close the deal sometimes. But you are so right we need to focus more on the joy!

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