This past year my family moved out of the house I’d lived in longer than any other house. We were moving into an old farmhouse that we were rehabbing ourselves. It was a challenging process both physically and mentally. As I considered all of the things I’d miss about the home I’d brought my babies up in, I wondered what I could take with me. Was there a piece of my past that could somehow satisfy my heart in the future? I remembered that each year in late winter and early spring I’d anticipate the coming of the exquisite iris. It seemed like neverending springs would produce the beauties that I’d observed in the backyard as my children played there.

I remember once picking a stem and folding back petals only to find more. It wasn’t just the layers of petals that enticed me to investigate, but also the incredibly detailed handiwork on the petals. Yellow fuzzy lines sat on the middle of each inner petal, like sleeping wooly bear caterpillars. Unexpected brown veins surprised me as they ran through the pastel smooth flesh. The inner smaller petals defined by smooth straight lines beautifully contrasted the outer soft floppy petals defined by perfectly ragged edges. An amazing piece of God’s creation! 

In the early days of motherhood, I relearned how to delight in the world around me. I too became a child. Leaving the fast-paced business world and staying home with my children changed me. I began to delight in the world around me as much as my children did. A week didn’t seem to pass by that I wasn’t photographing the beauty of the world around me. I was in awe. Perhaps the iris reminds me of that. The need to slow down and remember God’s care, provision, and beauty.

Trusting the little gardening knowledge I had, I transplanted a section of bulbs from that backyard we were moving from into the earth in the very front of the old farmhouse that we were moving to. I placed them into the ground with a prayer that they would come again. A small act of trust in the Lord’s provision and of hope to be reminded of the beautiful past.

That season with small children has evolved into a time now where I have a ten-year-old and a twelve-year-old. Over the past decade, our family has had times of sweet slowing down but also times where we’ve been under terrible pressure and challenges. This past year, along with the move, we’ve experienced severe sadness, strain, and trials simultaneously. Throughout September and October of this year, I was processing it all at once. So often, I felt I was doing a pretty good job of turning to the Lord in the midst of it all and processing it well. There were times, though, where I did not. There were times when the severity of the trials and the reality of trying to juggle them simultaneously along with everything else in life was just too much. Those were days I needed a clear plan for my mind, heart, spirit, and hands.

How could I focus on teaching my children in our homeschool while my heart was hurting terribly due to relationship challenges?

How could I move forward with a move while we physically and emotionally drained from rehabbing and still rehabbing the house we were moving into?

How could I love my children well while I was feeling angry about injustices happening in an area of my life?

How could I go forward with anything when a change in thyroid medication left me without energy and feeling hopeless about my health?

My husband seemed to be doing alright. He was taking the brunt of all that we were experiencing, yet seemed to be able to handle things as they came and with a pretty good outlook. What was the difference?  I was praying and reading God’s Word, yet there seemed to be a missing link for me (besides my thyroid medication)! On the most overwhelming days, he seemed to be able to process it well. I was often the one who seemed to crumble under the weight of it all. I was the one who eventually found myself speaking harshly or slamming a door.

One day I mentioned, perhaps a bit annoyed, how he could handle it all in a more peaceful way. He answered matter-of-factly, “I only work out of one box at a time.”

Oh yes, then I remembered! He’s Compartment Man! Able to seemingly leap through life as he places each area of life in its own box and only takes one out when he’s actually working on it and has put another away. Well, I’m exaggerating a bit but you get the picture. In the past, I had disregarded it, even laughed it off. “That’s nice for you, but some of us need to be able to juggle multiple things at once. It’s a good thing I worry about everything all at once or things would fall through the cracks!”

Have you ever thought this?

I’m not saying ALL women are like this, but most of the ones I know are able to juggle many things at once. I don’t mean just tasks, but tasks AND concerns. I have found that many of us take some pride in it, too. I had gotten pretty good at it in the fast-paced business world. After the birth of my second child, I had gotten even better at it. Something I had never realized before was that I was juggling tasks and concerns at the same time and I wasn’t doing it well. My heart couldn’t be in two places at once without some irritation and frustration. I couldn’t process the sadness of loss while also trying to love my children through homeschooling while feeling frustrated about sitting at a table in a kitchen that was being rehabbed while we were still moving!

In the midst of this move, after the planting of the iris bed of hope, I remembered the stark difference between a beautiful, vibrant, living, iris and the dying iris. Overnight they’d go from holding supple outward petals to being a shriveled up, inward-turned, oozing mass. I wondered…

When those iris’s came up, would I still be feeling this way?

This became an illustration to me over the next several months as I endured simultaneous challenges. It’s become a good illustration to me still, even as I move into a more healthy and “normal” season. I see that even in less adverse circumstances, I have the tendency to allow many parts of my life to touch each other. Sorrow can impact places where I could be experiencing joy. Stress in one area can keep me from living in the moment in another.

The illustration of the iris has helped me to see that women are beautifully created too and in a way that makes us equipped to handle multiple tasks. Our minds have been wonderfully wired to be able to concern ourselves with emotional, spiritual, and heart matters while working on unrelated tasks. Yes, we CAN do that and sometimes we have to. It’s lovely! From my own experience and from conversations with other women, I think we might be trying to do that too well. We can give ourselves over too much to this ability in us. In fact, I think we are capable of making the special, beautiful way God made us, to turn ugly. Like the iris, we can quickly turn inward and away from the amazing beauty of God’s creation.

But there is hope!

We do have an amazing ability to allow all aspects of life to touch each other. We can feel so much all at once, and it can feel overwhelming at times. We can train ourselves to sense when it’s too much. And we can allow our omnipresent God to be over all of our life when we really can’t. Because let’s face it, we aren’t really over every single area of our lives all at one time. We can use our unique wiring and ability to connect the various compartments of our lives to bring Jesus over it all and give Him it all, though!

“I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.” -Psalm 121: 1-4

Next week, I’ll be sharing how the Lord helped me with a specific, comforting plan for how to bring Him into and over my challenging season last year and into the future!

Please share with me if this is a struggle for you, too. What do you do when you feel overwhelmed?

For the entire “Overcoming Overwhelm” course, click below!

Linking up this week with these lovely writers: