In the dueling philosophies of hustle and anti-hustle, I fall squarely on the side of less hustle. With the interweb world being what it is, I have a fairly consistent bombardment of really exciting and energetic people compelling me with LOTS OF CAPITAL LETTERS to DREAM BIGGER and be a SPARKLY FIREWORK and to MAKE LOTS OF THINGS HAPPEN WITH THIS CONFERENCE, THIS PLANNER, THIS RESOURCE.
And this is a really good fit for about half the population who, themselves, are sparkly firework dreamers with creative aspirations a mile high. I admire and applaud this half.
But this is a terrible fit for those of us who, FOR THE LOVE, do not want to sparkle or be a flame or dream any bigger.
Frankly, I feel a little bit of pressure by this whole “good things come to those who hustle; baby, you’re a firework” stream of imagery and quotes. I get a little anxious and my heart rate speeds up and I have a moment of oh, no, I am not sparkling enough to accomplish the MEGA THINGS I WAS MADE FOR.
I don’t want to be a firework. I don’t want to start a business or be on the front lines or dream so darn big or have a thousand followers and just watching other people hustle makes me tired.
I want to get up in the morning and put on clothes and make a pot of coffee and figure out what the day holds, while a little woman shouts from the other room “Mama, awake? Get me out! Get me out dis bed, pwees, pwees!”
I want to do the things on my list that keep my home and family safe and fed and warm and feeling loved. I want to meet with young women for coffee and prayer. I want to attend church and teach littles and bring mashed potatoes to a potluck and stand for the reading of the Word. I want to read quietly on the back porch during naptime and I want to make a cwaft! with my daughter and I want to enjoy my man. And then I want to clean up the kitchen and take a hot shower and read a book and go to bed. No fireworks involved.
So for the other half who, like me, are living a little quieter and a little slower and a little less firework-ey: well done.
Get up in the morning and go to your job with the catty co-workers or the long hours and remember that you're working as unto the Lord, not man.
Get your coffee going and meet those little people you’re raising in the living room all in your jammies and all rubbing sleep out of your eyes. Make eggs and toast and watch Sesame Street or whatever.
Do your laundry and cook your meals and keep your home, in whatever beautiful rhythms you’ve established.
Go to school, run errands, pay bills, love your friends, date your spouse, make time for the things that bring you life and do not, under any circumstances, think of this as less valuable.