Peace in your now

Above is my niece, Claire the peach, Claire the babe. She can roll over now.
Isn't that fantastic?
I have striped overalls for her. I had to buy them, I couldn't help myself. And I am painting a small picture for her to go with them in the parcel. Something she can stare at on her wall. It's an octopus.

I've been here almost a week, and do you know, the only piece of furniture I have obtained is a mini bar cart that needs to be re-done. It's somewhat sad. I walked seven blocks to the antique store yesterday, sure I wouldn't find anything, but there it was. That blasted cart. I had to carry it all seven blocks back to my house in a dress. I even passed by two Mormon young men going door-to-door. They didn't offer to help, which assures me that I'll never convert to their religion now.
Such trite experiences we have that influence our faith, those are the most important ones.
Like offering to carry a weight that's not your own. That can change a heart.

Not that I'm in any danger of stepping toward Mormonism. I've just been painting too much and reading Doug Bannister's new book, "Seek the Peace." I'm somewhat in knots about his whole premise. I'm such a wanderluster at heart, such a travel-wanter, such a hopeful missionary.
I never actually took time to think about being present where I am now, with who I am now.
I never tried to actually carry someone else's weight, their load.
We're all missionaries where we are.
Just writing that brings me to the same nagging conclusion that has been pounding in my chest this whole week: I am an idiot.
I am so stupid sometimes. It is so easy as a believer in Christ not to actually try to make a difference now. The key word is now. Because whatever state we exist in, whatever place, whatever moment of life, that is our now. And to be obedient to my carpenter, I'm supposed to be fulfilling the great commission now. Daily. Everyday.

I want to go somewhere so bad. Honestly, I do. But I am here, I am in this now. I belong in this now.
And I need to be.

That is not so bad as I thought, admitting that. There are so many beautiful buds and blooms in my life, that I'm okay with this being my now. I'm okay with working with what I have and enjoying what I have. Because what I have is beautiful.
I have a small niece. A plant on a shelf my Father made for me. I have white dishes. I have classes, soon enough. Light that spills onto my wood floors. Stacks of old books. Coffee. Friendships.
And I have two hands. Two very capable hands that carry the loads of mine own, and someone else's too.