I thought living in an RV was going to make me a different person. I thought I would instantly become more relaxed and carefree. I pictured myself serving iced tea in an apron with the sun on my face. I thought a lighter load would mean a happier heart. But what I’ve found is that I’m just the same old me, in a smaller home. I’m still preoccupied, worried, and obsessed with order. I’m still frazzled from housework and snappy at my kids. Living the RV lifestyle didn’t cure me. 

At first this realization was disheartening. It really seemed like it should have worked. Less stuff, less to clean, less to complain about, right? But the cold, hard truth is that I am a big, fat sinner and no matter where I live, there I am. Ugh. 

So what’s a girl to do? Clearly I can’t downsize my troubles away. Well, finally I turned to the only place I’ve ever felt true rest. I recently started getting up early in the morning and just taking a few minutes to read God’s word and pray. Just a few minutes, nothing too complicated. But ya know what? It’s actually helping. 

No, I’m not cured. I still struggle not to rush through my day. I still pray for long naps so I can breathe and enjoy the sound of silence. I’m just starting to grasp that I will never be the “perfect mom” or wife or whatever. I will never have it all together. I will never be “cured” of these troubles that plague me. 

But I can rest. I can rest because I have a Savior who was perfect in my stead. I can have peace in the insanity because He is the Prince of Peace. I can get grace for the mess-ups because He gives it freely to all who believe. 

Yep, I’m just the same old me, wrapped in the garments of grace and mercy. 

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