Moving some chairs.

"Life is a balance between what we can control and what we cannot. I am learning to live between effort and surrender." - Danielle Orner

My best friend and her husband visited us here at the B&B last month.

That one sentence shouldn't carry SO much weight and mean SO much to me. But it does, and the reason why is that both of our lives haven become out of control. Kind of busy beyond our scope of being able to keep our arms around everything.

She and I often begin our conversations with things like, "Remember when we used to..." or "Gosh, what I wouldn't give to be able to ____________________ again." The blank is filled in according to what is on our minds and in our hearts at the time.

We became fast friends when I was just sixteen and she was nineteen. We finished "growing up" together, we were there when our children were born, and those same children were raised more as siblings than friends. Even though, between us, we had four children under the age of 6, nothing stopped us. We took them on frequent Target, Kmart (dating myself here), and Walmart runs. One of us would decide on a whim to paint a room at 9:00pm and then we'd both stay up until 2 in the morning to get it done. One time, we put together her newly delivered 4 poster bed before her husband could get home from work to do it!

We were both super involved in the kids' schools once they started Kindergarten. We'd be the ones baking cupcakes, working carnivals, and coming up with creative teacher appreciation gifts (BEFORE Pinterest:). We thrived - no flourished - during this time. It was crazy busy but we always seemed to have time for everything, and for each other.

Then our kids grew up, married, we each went into a (more than) full-time career, and became grandparents. We no longer saw as much of each other. Yes, Mike and I did move two hours away - there was definitely that. But it was more... It was like time sped up; no longer did we have those "extra" hours in our days and we, in fact, wondered how in the world this happened. We began to have to schedule coffee dates - times on Saturday mornings when we'd each fix our cup of coffee and then retreat to a quiet place in our home or on our decks and chat by phone. Then, even those all but stopped.

Is she still my best friend? YES. No question.

The REAL question is, are we really THAT busy?

Again, at first glance it seems as though the answer is again YES. No question.

We both work full-time jobs, I own and operate the B&B and The Hitchin' Post; she not only also has three adorable grands, but two of them are twins and all three, along with their parents, and her elderly mother live with them, the kids on the second floor of their home, and Mama Bebee downstairs.

Life is busy. Life is crazy. Life is crazy busy. But, in reality, no busier than it was 30 years ago when we ran the streets day and night, accomplished project after project, threw epic kids birthday parties, and crafted. We crafted, y'all. Even had CRAFT ROOMS. {Goodness, I have an extra room, but it's more of a crap room, than a craft room!)

Our issue with time has much more to do with who we became as women as we aged. I'll just speak for myself, and not for Cheryl, from here on out. But somewhere along the path, in an unspoken manner, I allowed "busy" to become who I was. I thought it was okay, and not to be helped, because - after all - I loved my jobs. I cherished my responsibilities. I felt needed. I was doing good...wasn't I?

For years I felt great about this busyness - no matter how tired, how run-down, how frustrated I sometimes became - because it seemed like my "ticket" into the world of the really talented, gifted, and even pretty people. We all have ways in which identify ourselves; some of us recognize it as such, still others live it unaware. My identity was that I wasn't all that naturally talented, possessed very few God-given gifts, and I wasn't one of the "beautiful" people. What I did, and do, have a knack for is recognizing those talents and gifts in others and in bringing them together to get a job done.

In short, if you needed something done, a project outlined, people called, someone to volunteer, someone to spearhead committees, I was your go-to gal.

It didn't matter that as the years continued to pass and I grew older and closer to 50, that I became tired, weary, frustrated, used up...less than... There I was, doing more than ever, ever before and I felt more ineffective, less attractive, and certainly more unhappy and dissatisfied than ever in the past.

People called me superwoman. And capable. Reliable. Someone they could count on. Those are nice things; nice qualities to possess. But they were no longer calling me loving. Or kind. Certainly not joyful. I kept thinking "happiness" would arrive over the next hill, the next achievement, the next project. The next mountain. On the other side.

On the other side, more work awaited me. More responsibility. More expectations.

It was about this time that I picked up a book to skim and came across an essay detailing the conversation between two pastors, one older and seasoned, the second newer, full of passion, but a little overwhelmed. The younger told of how "his" church had exploded, they couldn't stop the growth, and what an "unstoppable phenomenon" it was.

The older, wiser pastor said, "You've built this, it's okay to say that. You've intentionally and strategically built a very large church. It's okay to say that." (Niequist) The younger continued to protest, saying that they had nothing to do with it.

"Well, not nothing," said the older pastor. "You kept putting up more chairs."

***Brief digression here. I am in no way at all diminishing great and awesome moves of God. I have, in fact, seen and experienced these. But not ALL "explosions" are divine...***

Being "good" at things feels great. Makes you feel needed, wanted. Many of us pretend we don't have a choice about our busyness, or our success, or the opportunities we jump head first into. It's easier to say "it just happened and here I am."

But we are the ones who keep putting up the chairs.

The past six months have been soul-searching ones for me. On many different levels. By all accounts, Mike and I are "successful." We've built a B&B in a business where close to 60% either fail or bail out in 3 years or less. All of experts and training seminars you attend on inn-keeping will warn you that it is not a business you go into "to make a lot of money"; it's not a high-income industry. While you can make a profit, it's more of a lifestyle.

And YET...our B&B is a lifestyle for us, and it does generate not only a revenue stream, but some profits. (Hopefully a heavier emphasis on the profits over the next 5 years! :) LOL. We also both work full-time jobs that require hours outside of the 9-5. My role as a teacher is one you don't leave at your classroom door each day. It's a responsibility that you shoulder like a backpack and carry with you at all times. You love those students as though they are your own kids. When they hurt, you hurt. When you know they're hungry, you find them food. When they have problems at home, or with a friend, or a boy/girl friend, you are their counselor. That's on top of the curriculum, the lesson plans, the schedules, the clubs, the sponsorships...Mike's role as a territory manager for a global company is just as impactful, in its own way. Many people turn to him to know the answers...all of the answers...and he spends many hours delivering quotes, promises, his time, being at the machine at new startups, mentoring new guys (and gals) fresh out of tech school...it's endless, and yet we've thrived.

But what I've come to realize these last weeks through much prayer, many hours laying awake at night reflecting, and in deep, long conversations with my husband is that I have spent the least amount of time these last few years with the ones I love the most. 

I've made some decisions. Set some new parameters for myself. Charted new avenues of living this one life I've been blessed with.

I'm taking down some chairs.