Saturday, December 19, 2015
Tis' the "Season"
The other night I was absolutely exhausted. I decided I would go to bed "early" once I finished the absolutely essential cleaning that had to happen. So I "finished" up my chores (This will never actually happen) and headed to bed at 10:45, which is early for me (especially in the month of December). I was so proud of myself. I even remembered to move the elf. Thank you. I set my alarm for 6:20 AM and settled in for a long night's sleep. Well..... At 11:42 PM a certain 2 year old entered my room crying for Mommy. I still don't know how she got out of her room. She can't open the door, and the other kids deny assisting her. So, I picked her up and cuddled her trying to calm her down. About 10 seconds after I got her into my bed I heard a 10 year old voice in the dark "Mom. I don't ....." Then a sound that I assume could only be matched if you knocked down Hoover Dam. An explosion of water hit the wood floor in our bedroom. It was totally dark and I had refused to open my eyes at this point and just hoped that maybe the roof was leaking or someone accidentally peed in the floor. I knew this was unlikely as there were audible heaves occurring. Well, sure enough, Ty had thrown up all over the floor. Brian jumped up to help him. I got up to try to get Brinley back in her bed, and with her on my hip slipped in the vomit, nearly falling into it. I had it splattered from my knees down. So Brinley is screaming, Ty is in our shower (still throwing up), and I step into the bath tub in my gown (Brinley still on my hip) and start washing my legs. Meanwhile Brian is cleaning up the floor. We manage to get Ty cleaned up and Brinley back into bed after 30 or 45 minutes. It was lovely. Then I had a hard time getting back to sleep and woke up the next day more exhausted than I had been the day before. And this is pretty much a narrative of my every day life these days.
I LOVE Christmas. I mean I LOVE it y'all. On November 1st each year the Christmas season officially commences in my mind. No offense to Thanksgiving. I love it too. I just see them as a joint package, like peanut butter and jelly. Christmas music begins for me on November 1st. In fact, after going into labor with Ty on Halloween of 2005 and laboring WAY too long I realized it was November 1st and completed my labor to the tune of Jim Brickman's Christmas CD. He came into the world on just the right day. :) Also, on November 1st I start wearing Christmas socks every day. Now, other people usually can't see them underneath my boots, but I know that they are there. The joy this brings me is unexplainable. I feel like Will Ferrell in Elf when I am wearing Christmas socks. I admit that I even love Christmas sweaters. Every time I get invited to an "Ugly Christmas Sweater" party I am so happy because it means that I get to wear what I secretly want to wear everyday. I almost started wearing sequin-adorned Christmas sweaters in college, but my sister derailed my plan by giving me a look that said "Go ahead and wear that, but don't be surprised when you end up an old maid with 30 cats." Christmas sweaters weren't fun and trendy yet then. She was right. I would certainly have been the weirdo on campus. But make no mistake, when I turn 50 I will be wearing Christmas sweaters daily from November 1st-December 25th. It just has to happen. And I will own it. Like a boss. Christmas means all things awesome for me. Jesus is my favorite. He's the absolute best. Throw in family, friends, singing, baking, gifting, lights, cookies, parties - it really just can't be beat. But here's the problem. As a child it was all fun and games. Other people did the work, and I enjoyed the benefit of their work. Now, as an adult I am finding that Christmas feels a whole lot like work some days. The endless list of parties, programs, teacher gifts, Santa shopping, special theme days, etc., etc. are absolutely exhausting. I am trying so hard not to let the busyness of Christmas suck the joy out of "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year". Some days I do better at this than others, but this season is certainly one of joy and stress. They coincide these days, but I wouldn't give up the joy in order to lose the stress. Christmas is my favorite season no matter how tiring it may be.
As a mom life is often referred to as a season. When you are enduring sleepless nights with a newborn a sweet older mother will tell you "It's just a season, Honey." When you feel too tied down with littles to even get out of the house you will hear it again "It's just a season." And on and on. There are seasons upon seasons, and sometimes when you have multiple children you are living through several of these big "seasons" at a time. Some are long. Some are short. All are precious. This season that I am in right now is busy. It is hard. It really demands my all and then some. I frequently have to ask God to stand in and be enough to handle my life because I am not enough on my own. People frequently ask me "How do you do it with 4 kids?" Here is the answer: I frequently have days where I feel hopeless that I will ever get a grip on my life. I frequently have days where I hang my head and cry from frustration or exhaustion. I frequently fail at being the mom my kids need me to be or the wife my husband needs me to be. BUT, I also frequently laugh so hard with my family that I cannot breathe. I frequently get hugs and kisses from my kids that make me sure there is no better job on earth than the one that I have. I frequently watch my children as they do something I taught them and realize that there are some things I am actually doing right. And most importantly, I frequently go to my Father and seek His help with this crazy thing called motherhood. I am nothing without Him.
A couple of weeks ago I was feeling particularly stressed out and overwhelmed with my "season", and I went to visit my grandmother in her assisted living home. My grandmother has Alzheimer's pretty badly. She doesn't remember who I am anymore. This is particularly hard because I was so close to her growing up. I have so many memories with her, and she no longer shares those memories with me. She can't remember me, and then she is embarrassed that she doesn't know who I am. Watching someone you love suffer through Alzheimer's is so incredibly heartbreaking. So, I was visiting with her and had a couple of my kids with me. We enjoyed a good visit. We answered all of her questions about 10 times each, and then we got up to leave because it was dinnertime for the residents. As I walked out into the hallway I saw the procession of elderly men and women heading to the dining room. Most all were using walkers, barely limping along. They moved slowly and their bodies were weak. They had gray hair or no hair. They had wrinkled skin that told the stories of their lives. They filed in one by one to get whatever dinner had been prepared for them. And I stopped in my tracks. "This is their season." For my grandmother her season is one where she can't even remember the ones she loved. Many of these men and women are rarely visited by their own children and grandchildren. And it hit me. Some day I will only get to see my kids if they choose to come see me. Someday I will live alone in a room with a television or a good book as my only companions, and the stress and the worry of taking care of a family will be far behind me. Someday my husband will likely be gone (We all know women live longer, and he borderline robbed the cradle.) I won't have him around to take care of me, nor will I be taking care of him. My kids will have their own busy lives, and I will be a dependent. Someday I might not remember all the days that got me to the day that I am living. Someday my season will be my last season.
Oh Dear God, forgive me for not seeing the beauty of this season right where I am right now. It is not easy. But it is joy, Lord. It is such joy. Let me at Christmas and all year long remember that You have blessed every "season" of my life by being present in every moment. Let me not allow a schedule to bring me such stress that I can't even see the wonder of the ones I am walking out the schedule alongside. Lord, you have given so richly to me in my husband and four children. Let me never take for granted that this enormous responsibility is also an enormous gift of grace. Oh, this season, it demands my all. But following You always will demand my all. And you are worth it. And they are worth it. And life is short and fragile. And You are forever. Help me count the victories, not the defeats. Help me relish the hugs, not grimace at the messes. Help me to bless, not to curse. Help me to abide, not to worry. Help me to love like you love. This season that is bleeding me dry is almost certainly the one that will fill my life with the most joy. You came that I might have life and have it to the full. I claim this blessing now, Lord Jesus. Amen.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Jesus, Bologna, and a Bunch of Dogs
I loathe bologna. It looks so gross. It signifies to me everything that is wrong with the world. I am very finicky (to say the least) about meat. I live in constant fear of myself or my family contracting listeria, E. coli, or salmonella. I have a strict 2 day rule on any meat-laden leftovers. I slightly overcook meat almost always to ensure that there is no bacteria(Sorry, Dear). In the way of meat, I only eat chicken and turkey. Even as a child my mom had a horrible time getting me to eat beef or pork. I'm sorry I was so picky, Mom! I am paying for my raising on that one. The only thing worse to me than regular meat is mystery meat. Who even knows what is in bologna? And why is the spelling so non-phonetically correct?! The mere sight of bologna makes my stomach turn over a bit and start screaming for fresh vegetables. I just don't get how it could possibly be a thing.
I'm not a big fan of dogs. I know. Gasp. Alert the press. But before you write me off as cold and incapable of love or unfriend me on facebook please allow me to explain. You see, I have psychological issues with pets. My childhood pet history reads a lot like "Les Mis" - a lot of drama and everyone dies. The soundtrack to my story isn't nearly as awesome though because it is mostly made up of New Kids on the Block, Milli Vanilli, Mariah Carey, and Boys II Men (okay, it is actually awesome). The first pet I remember having was our beloved black cat named "Midnight". She gave us several kittens (whom I found it the yard and thought were rats). My favorite one was a little gray one named "Smoky". These kittens were eaten by the german shepherd dogs next store. Should I just stop there? No, let's go on. Midnight herself later got run over by a car on the highway close to our house. We buried her in the backyard. Introduce next pet - a dog named "Rocky". I may or may not have suggested this name because of a boy I had a crush on at school. The rest of the family probably thought the name was cool because of the movies, but I knew the truth. Anyway, I loved him so much. He was our sidekick. He walked to school everyday with my sister and I in a very "Mary had a Little Lamb"-esque way. Rocky disappeared one Halloween, and we never saw him again. We assume he was stolen. Someone was tricking rather than treating. Then my 10th birthday came along, and apparently I hated myself because I asked for another dog. My request was granted, and we got an adorable black and white puppy named "Oreo". We had just enough time to fall head over heels in love with him before he too got flattened on the highway. True story - my mom followed up dinner that night by offering us all some of the frozen oreo dessert she had made the day before, and we erupted into sobs. My sweet parents wanted to give us the joyful experience of owning pets, but instead they gave us sadness and lessons on the frailty of life. So, you see, pets have only ever caused me pain. Even my beta fish, "Merle", had an untimely death. There is a sore spot in my soul where pets are concerned. I hardened my heart to the furry creatures long ago. I am trying to love them again for the sake of my children, but it's a long process. Where am I going with this? It isn't just a post about things I don't like. I promise. So read on. :)
Last week we buried one of the most amazing women I have ever known, Brian's Grandmother Petty. She was the tiniest bundle of true grit anyone ever saw. She loved everyone and everything. Her faith in Jesus was second to none, and she showed her love for Him in everything she did. There's a story told of her that once a man broke into her house and waved a knife in her face demanding her stuff. According to the story she told him he looked silly waving that knife around and that he was in the Lord's house. Then she offered to make him breakfast. Now I'm not sure this story is 100% accurate. My husband told it to me. Petty men are men of honor, but they aren't above a little embellishment for story-telling sake. Regardless, this was the kind of woman she was. She would give anything she owned and the very last ounce of herself to anyone who needed her. She raised 8 children and had 26 grandchildren and 48 great grandchildren (with more to come). She welcomed anyone who would come into her home. She had true joy because her fulfillment didn't come from any earthly source. It came from Jesus. She was full of wisdom and truth - an absolute jewel of a woman.
Last Friday night after we buried her close to her home we all gathered in her house one last time to eat together and visit. Grandmother would have so enjoyed looking around her home that night to see all of the faces she loved so much. How I wish I would have spent more time in her home while she was still in it. So many people had been so kind to bring us food of all kinds over the 2 days of visitation and funeral services. So we pulled out all the leftovers and had a vast array of food before us. As I made my way through the line, there I saw it - bologna sliced into quarters. Now, I'm not sure if someone brought this to the grieving family or if we pulled it out of Grandmother's fridge because it needed to be eaten(I assume the latter). But I watched as Brian's family walked by and ate it as if this was a totally normal thing to do, because let's be honest - it is probably a totally normal thing to do. And I stood there in this room full of deer-hunting bologna eaters (because it was standing room only in that precious house) and thought about how these people I was surrounded by had to be some of the finest people on the planet earth.
Then there are the dogs. It was a running joke at Grandmother's house that dogs abound there. I mean, who could blame them? They could probably sense her good character and would flock to her door. There were even jokes at the funeral as her granddaughters beautifully eulogized her about all the dogs around her home. Now, like I said, lots of dogs + me = uncomfortable. And yet this place where the dogs loved to go was a place of peace - a place of rightness in a world gone wrong.
What is my point? Well, I'm not sure exactly, but it's something like this. What blessings in life am I missing out on because I won't go near the unappealing things? What relationships have I missed out on because the other person didn't look like me? What ministries have I avoided because it's just too uncomfortable to go into "that kind of place". How many times have I judged others because of our differences instead of embracing them because of our likeness? If I avoid all the bologna and the dogs of the world am I only avoiding the "bad" or am I sorely missing out on the very, very good things God has to offer me? In the most unlikely of places, and in the most unlikely ways we find the most precious blessings of all. The greatest gift we will ever receive was laid in a manger in a stable filled with animal stench. What if we didn't go in because we didn't like the smell? What if we just kept walking past His stable and waited for something more appealing? What if we gave up the greatest moments of our lives because we didn't want to be "uncomfortable" for even a second? What if behind the small things that turn you off there is a woman who can teach you more about Jesus' love than anyone you know? What are you avoiding today? Go into the stable. Get dirty. Step in the manure. Embrace the Savior. He just might be where you least expect Him.
I'm not a big fan of dogs. I know. Gasp. Alert the press. But before you write me off as cold and incapable of love or unfriend me on facebook please allow me to explain. You see, I have psychological issues with pets. My childhood pet history reads a lot like "Les Mis" - a lot of drama and everyone dies. The soundtrack to my story isn't nearly as awesome though because it is mostly made up of New Kids on the Block, Milli Vanilli, Mariah Carey, and Boys II Men (okay, it is actually awesome). The first pet I remember having was our beloved black cat named "Midnight". She gave us several kittens (whom I found it the yard and thought were rats). My favorite one was a little gray one named "Smoky". These kittens were eaten by the german shepherd dogs next store. Should I just stop there? No, let's go on. Midnight herself later got run over by a car on the highway close to our house. We buried her in the backyard. Introduce next pet - a dog named "Rocky". I may or may not have suggested this name because of a boy I had a crush on at school. The rest of the family probably thought the name was cool because of the movies, but I knew the truth. Anyway, I loved him so much. He was our sidekick. He walked to school everyday with my sister and I in a very "Mary had a Little Lamb"-esque way. Rocky disappeared one Halloween, and we never saw him again. We assume he was stolen. Someone was tricking rather than treating. Then my 10th birthday came along, and apparently I hated myself because I asked for another dog. My request was granted, and we got an adorable black and white puppy named "Oreo". We had just enough time to fall head over heels in love with him before he too got flattened on the highway. True story - my mom followed up dinner that night by offering us all some of the frozen oreo dessert she had made the day before, and we erupted into sobs. My sweet parents wanted to give us the joyful experience of owning pets, but instead they gave us sadness and lessons on the frailty of life. So, you see, pets have only ever caused me pain. Even my beta fish, "Merle", had an untimely death. There is a sore spot in my soul where pets are concerned. I hardened my heart to the furry creatures long ago. I am trying to love them again for the sake of my children, but it's a long process. Where am I going with this? It isn't just a post about things I don't like. I promise. So read on. :)
Last week we buried one of the most amazing women I have ever known, Brian's Grandmother Petty. She was the tiniest bundle of true grit anyone ever saw. She loved everyone and everything. Her faith in Jesus was second to none, and she showed her love for Him in everything she did. There's a story told of her that once a man broke into her house and waved a knife in her face demanding her stuff. According to the story she told him he looked silly waving that knife around and that he was in the Lord's house. Then she offered to make him breakfast. Now I'm not sure this story is 100% accurate. My husband told it to me. Petty men are men of honor, but they aren't above a little embellishment for story-telling sake. Regardless, this was the kind of woman she was. She would give anything she owned and the very last ounce of herself to anyone who needed her. She raised 8 children and had 26 grandchildren and 48 great grandchildren (with more to come). She welcomed anyone who would come into her home. She had true joy because her fulfillment didn't come from any earthly source. It came from Jesus. She was full of wisdom and truth - an absolute jewel of a woman.
Last Friday night after we buried her close to her home we all gathered in her house one last time to eat together and visit. Grandmother would have so enjoyed looking around her home that night to see all of the faces she loved so much. How I wish I would have spent more time in her home while she was still in it. So many people had been so kind to bring us food of all kinds over the 2 days of visitation and funeral services. So we pulled out all the leftovers and had a vast array of food before us. As I made my way through the line, there I saw it - bologna sliced into quarters. Now, I'm not sure if someone brought this to the grieving family or if we pulled it out of Grandmother's fridge because it needed to be eaten(I assume the latter). But I watched as Brian's family walked by and ate it as if this was a totally normal thing to do, because let's be honest - it is probably a totally normal thing to do. And I stood there in this room full of deer-hunting bologna eaters (because it was standing room only in that precious house) and thought about how these people I was surrounded by had to be some of the finest people on the planet earth.
Then there are the dogs. It was a running joke at Grandmother's house that dogs abound there. I mean, who could blame them? They could probably sense her good character and would flock to her door. There were even jokes at the funeral as her granddaughters beautifully eulogized her about all the dogs around her home. Now, like I said, lots of dogs + me = uncomfortable. And yet this place where the dogs loved to go was a place of peace - a place of rightness in a world gone wrong.
What is my point? Well, I'm not sure exactly, but it's something like this. What blessings in life am I missing out on because I won't go near the unappealing things? What relationships have I missed out on because the other person didn't look like me? What ministries have I avoided because it's just too uncomfortable to go into "that kind of place". How many times have I judged others because of our differences instead of embracing them because of our likeness? If I avoid all the bologna and the dogs of the world am I only avoiding the "bad" or am I sorely missing out on the very, very good things God has to offer me? In the most unlikely of places, and in the most unlikely ways we find the most precious blessings of all. The greatest gift we will ever receive was laid in a manger in a stable filled with animal stench. What if we didn't go in because we didn't like the smell? What if we just kept walking past His stable and waited for something more appealing? What if we gave up the greatest moments of our lives because we didn't want to be "uncomfortable" for even a second? What if behind the small things that turn you off there is a woman who can teach you more about Jesus' love than anyone you know? What are you avoiding today? Go into the stable. Get dirty. Step in the manure. Embrace the Savior. He just might be where you least expect Him.
Saturday, October 31, 2015
10 Things I Want You to Know on Your 10th Birthday
Son, 10 years ago tomorrow you came into our lives. You were kicking and screaming and so full of life. We had never seen anything so amazing and beautiful. We had never felt love like this before. We were parents. We didn't know what in the world we were doing, but we knew we wanted to do it everyday for the rest of our lives. We knew we had been given a tremendous blessing. Now here you are. Tomorrow you turn 10. It is hardly believable that you've been here that long, and at the same time I can hardly remember life without you. The first 10 years of life are so magical. Childhood is a great gift from God. You are still a child, but lots of things will change in the next 10 years. Here are 10 things I want you to know as you bravely move forward into the next decade.
1. God Loves You More Than You Could Ever Imagine.
This is number one because it is by far the most important. If you can know this, truly know this in your heart, it will change EVERYTHING about your life. He loves you in a way that no one else you know is even capable of loving. It is perfect love. He made you. He created you exactly as you are for His divine purpose. He longs for you to be in relationship with Him. You make Him smile. Hold that truth in your heart, Son. It will never let you down.
2. God Will Never Leave You.
The next 10 years will bring many highs and lows. They will be some of the best years of your life with some of the hardest days of your life. You will be growing and learning so much every day. Your dad and I can't be with you every second of every day, but rest assured in this: God is with you always. Nowhere you go is too far from Him. No situation you find yourself in is too hard for Him. He will be by your side everyday. All you have to do is turn to Him. You can't see Him, but you will feel Him if you look for Him. He is your one constant in this life.
3. Don't Be Afraid To Be You.
The bible says it so beautifully "You are fearfully and wonderfully made." God created you with extreme care. He has purposes for you, and they are all a part of how He designed you. There is nothing wrong with how he created you. He doesn't make mistakes. We make mistakes, but He doesn't. Don't be afraid to be exactly who you are, Son. If someone else tries to convince you that aren't enough, tell them they are wrong. Then tell them that they are enough too, because they probably don't think they are. Be the kind of person who is comfortable in his own skin. You can do this when you understand number 1. He loves you.
4. You Are No Better Than Anyone Else.
Just as you are fearfully and wonderfully made, Son, so is everyone else. You are not better than any of your friends. You are not better than any of your enemies. We are all made in the image of God, and we are all lost without the grace of Jesus. You will have friends at school who don't look like you or talk like you. Their families won't look like yours. Their lives won't look like yours. Their clothes won't look like yours. They may make poor choices. You are no better than them. They are loved by God just the same as you are. They may have circumstances that make it hard for them to know that, Son. Treat them like the God-creation that they are. Treat them with respect and love. Be kind to the kids that the other kids tease or ignore all together. Do that, Son, and you just might change their life. And when you do this, it will most definitely change yours. This, my sweet boy, is being Jesus to the world.
5. Your Dad and I Love You So Much.
Son, your Dad and I can't love you as perfectly as Jesus does. But we love you as much as is humanly possible. To quantify how much we love you is impossible. There are no words or numbers that exist that could explain how we feel about you. You are ours. We will love you no matter what you do or don't do in the next 10 years. We want you to know that we are here for you. You can talk to us about anything. If something is hard in life, don't carry it alone. We are here. We will support and encourage you. We will help you work through the hard stuff. We will love you fiercely even when we don't agree. We will try our hardest to show Jesus' love in every conversation we have with you. We won't be perfect, but we will ask forgiveness when we mess up. We are so grateful to be your parents.
6. Your Siblings Are One Of God's Biggest Blessings To You.
I know sometimes it's hard to be the oldest of four children. I know your siblings drive you absolutely crazy some days, but believe me when I tell you this: You will treasure them someday. They are life-long friends. No matter where you go in life they will be a part of you. They will be there for the biggest laughs and hold you through the biggest tears. You will share so many memories with them. They will know you in a way that other people never will. Treat them well and know that they look up to you. Find chances to be kind to them. When you are grown up you will be so glad that you did.
7. Everything Worthwhile Is Hard.
People will try to tell you to take the easy way out. We can justify so many things with the excuse "It's just too hard." Let me tell you something, Son. If you have to work hard for something you will appreciate it so much more. The biggest blessings in your life will also be the things that require the most of you. When you have a class that is just "too hard"- work harder. When you don't make the starting team - practice more. When you are in situations with friends and family that are "too hard" - don't give up on people. Working hard makes you tired in the best kind of way because when you finally rest you can rest peacefully. When you don't think you can't do it - dig deeper. Jesus is your source of strength. When you ask Him for help He will help you. Don't be lazy. It feels good in the moment, but it drains your soul in the long run. Don't shy away from the hard stuff. Befriend it. You will have a much fuller life.
8. You Are Not Too Young To Make A Difference.
You may feel like you are too young to make a real difference in this world, like that is something that only adults do. Don't believe that. The next 10 years of your life will be absolutely filled with opportunities to change the world. Everyday you will have a choice to either speak life or speak death to the people around you. You can be kind to people in ways that will change the course of their lives. You can help those that are in need in your community. You can start movements among your peers that will make this world a better place. You can share Jesus with people who don't know Him. There is no greater mission than this. You will have lots of friends who need to meet Him and learn who He is. Share Him with them. Bring them to church with you. Pray for them. Pray with them. Don't be afraid to be bold about your God. He was bold for you. He sent His only son to die.
9. You Don't Have To Be The Best At Everything.
You are so talented, Son. You have many gifts and abilities. We are so proud of you, but please know that you don't have to be the best at everything. Some things will come naturally, and some things will be harder. That is okay. More than anything we want you to realize that you are loved regardless of your abilities and not because of them. When someone else is better than you at something don't be jealous. Be happy for them. Feel good enough about yourself to praise other people for their special talents without feeling threatened by them. You are who you are, and they are who they are. Their successes don't take anything away from your successes. If you truly rejoice with others when they succeed, your own successes will be so much sweeter.
10. Joy Is A Daily Choice.
My sweet boy, life will throw things at you that you didn't want or expect. You will have hard days. Sometimes you will feel like you are being treated unfairly. Some days you will deal with disappointment or rejection. Your attitude in these moments will determine the quality of your life. Choosing to be joyful and thank God daily for your blessings even on the hard days will change your life completely. No one wants to be around someone who is negative all of the time. But when someone is truly joyful in their life they are like a magnet that people can't resist. There is something about joy that is so enticing and mysterious. True joy isn't bound to earthly circumstances but is found in knowing that God loves you and is always with you. See number one and number two above. :) Choose joy every day.
I love you so much and look forward to every day of the next 10 years and beyond with you!
Love,
Mom
Sunday, October 25, 2015
Fearful Avoidance
I haven't written in a couple of weeks. I don't typically sit down at the computer to blog and try to think of a topic to cover. I wait until I get inspired by something in life. I only write when something is running through my mind and heart repeatedly and convicting me. So apparently I haven't been very inspired the last 2 weeks :), but alas, it has hit me. I know I'm not the only one who notices that sometimes God will throw the same idea at you 2 or 3 times in a short period of time because He knows that we won't pick up on it the first time. Well, that happened this weekend.
Friday I was at physical therapy for my shoulder. Physical therapy is such an odd mix of extreme hope and extreme pain. You kind of want to hug your therapist and punch them in the face simultaneously. My therapist is great, but he is still trying to figure out what is wrong with my shoulder so plenty of pain is being inflicted. Anyway, yesterday I was talking to him about what my limitations are. You see, the idea of having to have shoulder surgery makes me want to go into a dark corner to rock and cry. I mean, seriously, I see it going down like this. I have shoulder surgery. I am immobilized in my right arm for 2 months. The children form a mutiny in my helplessness and destroy what little order I have managed to create in the last 10 years. DHS takes said children because I can't clean house or keep them out of the street with my left hand. Brian leaves me for a younger woman who isn't crippled. I never fully recover, and the pain is worse than when I started. Okay, maybe it wouldn't be that bad, but it would be bad, y'all. My poor mother would definitely have to move in with me for a while, and Brian would have to pull double duty. I use my right arm approximately every 10 seconds in this current life stage so you get the concern. So, I have been trying to protect my shoulder from anything that might make it worse. There is a workout class I have been wanting to try so I was asking my therapist if he thought I could do it even though it uses body resistance. His reply surprised me even though it made perfect sense. "You can try it. If it doesn't produce your pain it's fine. If it is painful don't keep doing it. But, you don't want to practice fearful avoidance." Let me repeat that in case you didn't catch it: "You don't want to practice fearful avoidance." Okay, so put a pin right there and let's move on to the next morning.
My oldest baby (who is about to turn 10!) just started playing basketball. I love basketball! It is my favorite sport by far so I'm pretty excited about this. He had his jamboree yesterday morning - his first game ever. I skipped it because it was at 8:00 at a location 40 minutes away, and they were only playing for 30 min. 80 min of drive time with 4 kids + 30 minutes of watching basketball = no deal. Especially at 8:00 AM. So Brian took him and I got everyone ready for his soccer game at 10:15. Yes, the same child. Before you judge me too harshly about missing his game: I did get all of his stuff ready, wash his uniform, and make him muffins before he left. So, hey, I tried. After the two of them left for the game I was sweeping the floor and started thinking about my own one year basketball career. In the 6th grade I played for the Blue jays. I wouldn't say that I was an especially skilled player (Stop laughing, people who knew me then.). I'm not sure if it was lack of ability or lack of competitiveness that fueled my mediocre performances, but it was probably a mixture of the two. I distinctly remember one game where we went into double overtime against East Cheatham Elementary. The stakes were high, the gym was erupting with cheers, the parents were having tiny heart attacks (I know this feeling now). It was the kind of game movies are made of. Anyway, we won by 2 points in double overtime and were so ecstatic, but I remember just feeling so badly for the other team. The looks on their faces destroyed me. I wanted to give them each a hug and say "You'll get em' next time, Tiger!", but I'm sure that wouldn't have been well received at that time. So competitive nature I lack in, but I love the game of basketball and really enjoyed playing. Well, 7th grade came along and that meant a new school and the Jr. High basketball team. I went to tryouts the first day, made the cut to come back the next day and didn't go back. This day in my life is not something I think about often, but in the back of my mind I have always thought that I just decided I didn't want to play. Well, yesterday morning I remembered with total clarity something that I had long since forgotten. I didn't go back to the second day of tryouts because I WAS AFRAID OF GETTING CUT. I clearly remembered that I was so afraid of getting cut after that second day that I chose to just not go and instead avoid the embarrassment altogether. Of course I didn't tell anyone this, but that was totally my reason. My friends were going to be on the team, and I knew that I wasn't super talented and couldn't bear the thought of them making the cut while I didn't. So I just quit. I avoided the pain that I didn't even know for sure existed and gave up on something that I really wanted to do. FEARFUL AVOIDANCE. Now, I don't know if I would have made that team or not, but I might have had a great time playing basketball with my friends for the next 6 years. As it was, I ended up keeping the stats for the boys team so at least I got to go to all the games and display my nerdy mathematician side. :) I even got to ride the team bus, so there's that.
The message that I received loudly yesterday morning before I was awake enough to process deep thoughts was this: Stop avoiding things because of fear! If I had a list of everything in life that I haven't done because of fear it would be REALLY long. Fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of injury, fear of regret, etc., etc. There are so many things I have wanted to do in life, but I haven't had the guts to just go out on a limb. There are things right at this very moment that I know I am being called to, but I am just too scared to admit it and take the risk involved. Where is God in this? Do I serve a God who teaches me to cower in fear and only take risks when I have a guaranteed result? Did Paul, Peter, John, Luke, James, John, Stephen not take significant risks (their very lives) as they spread the good news of Jesus. In the Bible over and over again we see God calling people to do things that are scary and require much risk. "Noah, build an ark." "Abraham, leave your home." "Moses, tell Pharaoh to release my people." "Joseph, save Egypt from famine." "Esther, defend your people before the King." "Hannah, take your son to the temple." "Rahab, hide and protect those spies." "Jonah, go to Nineveh." "Daniel, pray anyway." I have never seen a scripture where God said "Just keep doing what you're doing. Don't go out on a limb. Just protect yourself from failure and stay with whatever is easy. Fear is an excellent motivator." No! Instead over and over and over again he says some version of the phrase "DO NOT FEAR". I could literally spend hours typing out all of the verses that support this, but you get the idea. Just google "verses about fear" and then be amazed. Why is it so hard to follow this command? Of course this is most important in areas where God is specifically asking us to take a risk for His Kingdom, but it also applies to the "basketball teams" in life where we just miss out on what could have been a great thing because we are too afraid. So, here's my challenge to all of us this week (and really always): Instead of calculating everything that could go wrong, dream about what could go right. Listen to God's call on your life. Don't be afraid to answer. Don't be afraid to embrace life, and when the failures come - embrace them too! They are a part of our story, a part of the molding that God is doing as He completes His work in us. Fearful avoidance will rob us of the successes in life as well as the failures that we really needed to endure. So do something brave this week! And once I get this shoulder fixed, come on over, and we'll play some basketball!
Friday I was at physical therapy for my shoulder. Physical therapy is such an odd mix of extreme hope and extreme pain. You kind of want to hug your therapist and punch them in the face simultaneously. My therapist is great, but he is still trying to figure out what is wrong with my shoulder so plenty of pain is being inflicted. Anyway, yesterday I was talking to him about what my limitations are. You see, the idea of having to have shoulder surgery makes me want to go into a dark corner to rock and cry. I mean, seriously, I see it going down like this. I have shoulder surgery. I am immobilized in my right arm for 2 months. The children form a mutiny in my helplessness and destroy what little order I have managed to create in the last 10 years. DHS takes said children because I can't clean house or keep them out of the street with my left hand. Brian leaves me for a younger woman who isn't crippled. I never fully recover, and the pain is worse than when I started. Okay, maybe it wouldn't be that bad, but it would be bad, y'all. My poor mother would definitely have to move in with me for a while, and Brian would have to pull double duty. I use my right arm approximately every 10 seconds in this current life stage so you get the concern. So, I have been trying to protect my shoulder from anything that might make it worse. There is a workout class I have been wanting to try so I was asking my therapist if he thought I could do it even though it uses body resistance. His reply surprised me even though it made perfect sense. "You can try it. If it doesn't produce your pain it's fine. If it is painful don't keep doing it. But, you don't want to practice fearful avoidance." Let me repeat that in case you didn't catch it: "You don't want to practice fearful avoidance." Okay, so put a pin right there and let's move on to the next morning.
My oldest baby (who is about to turn 10!) just started playing basketball. I love basketball! It is my favorite sport by far so I'm pretty excited about this. He had his jamboree yesterday morning - his first game ever. I skipped it because it was at 8:00 at a location 40 minutes away, and they were only playing for 30 min. 80 min of drive time with 4 kids + 30 minutes of watching basketball = no deal. Especially at 8:00 AM. So Brian took him and I got everyone ready for his soccer game at 10:15. Yes, the same child. Before you judge me too harshly about missing his game: I did get all of his stuff ready, wash his uniform, and make him muffins before he left. So, hey, I tried. After the two of them left for the game I was sweeping the floor and started thinking about my own one year basketball career. In the 6th grade I played for the Blue jays. I wouldn't say that I was an especially skilled player (Stop laughing, people who knew me then.). I'm not sure if it was lack of ability or lack of competitiveness that fueled my mediocre performances, but it was probably a mixture of the two. I distinctly remember one game where we went into double overtime against East Cheatham Elementary. The stakes were high, the gym was erupting with cheers, the parents were having tiny heart attacks (I know this feeling now). It was the kind of game movies are made of. Anyway, we won by 2 points in double overtime and were so ecstatic, but I remember just feeling so badly for the other team. The looks on their faces destroyed me. I wanted to give them each a hug and say "You'll get em' next time, Tiger!", but I'm sure that wouldn't have been well received at that time. So competitive nature I lack in, but I love the game of basketball and really enjoyed playing. Well, 7th grade came along and that meant a new school and the Jr. High basketball team. I went to tryouts the first day, made the cut to come back the next day and didn't go back. This day in my life is not something I think about often, but in the back of my mind I have always thought that I just decided I didn't want to play. Well, yesterday morning I remembered with total clarity something that I had long since forgotten. I didn't go back to the second day of tryouts because I WAS AFRAID OF GETTING CUT. I clearly remembered that I was so afraid of getting cut after that second day that I chose to just not go and instead avoid the embarrassment altogether. Of course I didn't tell anyone this, but that was totally my reason. My friends were going to be on the team, and I knew that I wasn't super talented and couldn't bear the thought of them making the cut while I didn't. So I just quit. I avoided the pain that I didn't even know for sure existed and gave up on something that I really wanted to do. FEARFUL AVOIDANCE. Now, I don't know if I would have made that team or not, but I might have had a great time playing basketball with my friends for the next 6 years. As it was, I ended up keeping the stats for the boys team so at least I got to go to all the games and display my nerdy mathematician side. :) I even got to ride the team bus, so there's that.
The message that I received loudly yesterday morning before I was awake enough to process deep thoughts was this: Stop avoiding things because of fear! If I had a list of everything in life that I haven't done because of fear it would be REALLY long. Fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of injury, fear of regret, etc., etc. There are so many things I have wanted to do in life, but I haven't had the guts to just go out on a limb. There are things right at this very moment that I know I am being called to, but I am just too scared to admit it and take the risk involved. Where is God in this? Do I serve a God who teaches me to cower in fear and only take risks when I have a guaranteed result? Did Paul, Peter, John, Luke, James, John, Stephen not take significant risks (their very lives) as they spread the good news of Jesus. In the Bible over and over again we see God calling people to do things that are scary and require much risk. "Noah, build an ark." "Abraham, leave your home." "Moses, tell Pharaoh to release my people." "Joseph, save Egypt from famine." "Esther, defend your people before the King." "Hannah, take your son to the temple." "Rahab, hide and protect those spies." "Jonah, go to Nineveh." "Daniel, pray anyway." I have never seen a scripture where God said "Just keep doing what you're doing. Don't go out on a limb. Just protect yourself from failure and stay with whatever is easy. Fear is an excellent motivator." No! Instead over and over and over again he says some version of the phrase "DO NOT FEAR". I could literally spend hours typing out all of the verses that support this, but you get the idea. Just google "verses about fear" and then be amazed. Why is it so hard to follow this command? Of course this is most important in areas where God is specifically asking us to take a risk for His Kingdom, but it also applies to the "basketball teams" in life where we just miss out on what could have been a great thing because we are too afraid. So, here's my challenge to all of us this week (and really always): Instead of calculating everything that could go wrong, dream about what could go right. Listen to God's call on your life. Don't be afraid to answer. Don't be afraid to embrace life, and when the failures come - embrace them too! They are a part of our story, a part of the molding that God is doing as He completes His work in us. Fearful avoidance will rob us of the successes in life as well as the failures that we really needed to endure. So do something brave this week! And once I get this shoulder fixed, come on over, and we'll play some basketball!
Friday, October 9, 2015
It's In The Bag
Friday. Sweet Friday. Usually my Fridays consist of not leaving the house (other than driving people to school and ball practice) and hanging out in my pajamas all day with my younger 2 children. Monday through Thursday are busy, busy, busy for us so Fridays are refreshing and definitely a catch up day. I usually do a lot of cleaning, a lot of mothering, a little resting, some snuggling, and some writing. Well, today I had to interrupt my sacred Friday tradition to go to a little place called Vanderbilt Orthopedics. I hurt my shoulder back in May. The cause isn't exactly known, but it was either a result of getting too emphatic with my dance moves at the YMCA or lobbing 40 packs of bottled water into my SUV at Costco. Either way, I went down doing something I loved. I had seemingly recovered until the last day of church camp in July when I was mopping the mess hall (not something I loved) and felt the pain suddenly return to my right shoulder. So I've been just dealing with it for 2.5 months and decided that this isn't gonna just disappear so I better get it checked out.
My dear mother-in-law agreed to come over and watch my two littles so I could make this voyage into the big city this morning, so I was trying to clean my entire house, play outside with my kids, and get ready to go to the Doctor in a 3 hour period. Piece of cake. I got the kitchen and living room clean. Good enough. Bedrooms have doors. In my frenzy to get ready while a toddler was spreading lotion and panty liners across my bathroom floor and my five year old was trying to turn on inappropriate Netflix selections in my bedroom I forgot to grab my sweater off the bathroom counter and put it into my purse. I was wearing a sleeveless shirt and jeans, because what does one wear in October in Tennessee? At 6:00 AM and 9:00 PM the temperature makes me want to cuddle under a blanket wearing a sweatshirt and fuzzy socks and drink hot chocolate. At 2:00 PM the temperature makes me want to throw on my swimsuit (and a cover up) and hang out by the pool with a cherry limeade. You have to thoroughly plan your clothing based on time of day and whether or not the places you go will still be employing the air conditioner. This choice to wear a shirt void of sleeves only works for me if I have a sweater in my bag as a safety net. So, alas, I had made an error of epic proportions (okay not really).
So, I walked into the Doctor's office and immediately realized the error of my ways. It was FREEZING in there. It was so cold that I wondered if maybe they were trying to prevent their orthopedic patients from having to ice their injuries by actually dropping their body temperatures low enough that their muscles and tendons literally froze. I sat in the waiting room talking down to myself (only in my head) for being so foolish. I thought about pulling my arms into my shirt like our kids do in preschool, but I decided that was socially unacceptable for a 34 year old woman. Then I thought "That lady at the front desk was really sweet. Maybe I could ask her for a blanket." But I realized that was unlikely to end the way that I had hoped. So, I just dealt with it. I had to wait for the Doctor for a full hour so I was there about an hour and a half. I decided that I definitely don't want to be cryogenically preserved when I leave this world. Mummify me(hey, it's October), cremate me, bury me. I don't care. I just want to be warm (but not too warm if you know what I mean). So, back to my appointment. I got a huge steroid shot in my shoulder (lovely), a diagnosis of inflamed stuff and torn stuff, and a referral for physical therapy and went on my merry way. Walking outside was sweet relief. Just as my insides started to thaw I looked down into my purse. Now, you should know this isn't a normal sized purse. It has 3 LARGE compartments. I lose things in it ALL THE TIME. It may be big enough to hide a body in (not that I've ever tried). Hey, I've got 4 kids. I need lots of space in my bag for snacks and diapers and 400 coloring sheets from church. Anyway, I look in there and what do I see? I'll give you one guess. A sweater. I had put it in there a few days back and totally forgotten it was there. I was so mad at myself. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I just froze for an hour and a half, and I had my sweater with me the entire time?! It was sitting right next to me. My salvation was within my reach the ENTIRE time.
Then, the Spirit spoke it to me tenderly as only He can, "I am the sweater in your purse." Yep. I can't even argue. How many times in any given day/week/year do I struggle and suffer through the things in this life when all along I have access to the only one who can help me. I read books, ask others for advice, self-soothe with TV or Starbucks or Ice Cream, get discouraged, give up, etc. All the while the Spirit is within me saying "You don't have to be cold. I am right here. Just open your purse and use me." When I gave my life to Christ I received the Holy Spirit. In one of the sweetest places I know in scripture Jesus says this "“All this I have spoken while still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. (John 14:25-27) And then in John 16:7 He says these words "But very truly I tell you, it is for your good that I am going away. Unless I go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go, I will send Him to you." When I look through the different translations of the bible on these two verses I see that the words used for Holy Spirit are: Advocate, Counselor, Helper, Comforter, and Redeemer of the accursed. Wow. That is quite a line up. And, Jesus Himself says that we are better off with Him leaving us here because we will have this Advocate, Counselor, Helper, Comforter, and Redeemer of the Accursed." I'm sorry. What? It gets better than having Jesus by your side?! According to the Lord of Lords and King of Kings it does. So I have this power within me. I have this person who counsels me, helps me, advocates for me, comforts me and redeems me. And I'm gonna go ahead and find comfort in Ben and Jerry's? I'm gonna advocate for myself when I feel mistreated? I'm gonna ask my human friends and family for help or counsel before I ask Him? I'm gonna try to redeem all the messed up areas of my life and this world through my own strength? This is nonsensical. And yet I find myself there ALL THE TIME. I forget because I can't see Him that He is indeed there ALL THE TIME. He is waiting for me to call on Him through prayer and listening and study. He is fully equipped to lead me through EVERY SINGLE trial of this life, and I forget that He's in my purse. Prayer has never been a great strength of mine. I mean, don't get me wrong. I pray. But I pray quickly and efficiently. I squeeze it into my day. After seeing the movie the War Room last weekend (Go see it!!!) I have been trying to make a concentrated effort to spend more quality time in God's presence in prayer. I can honestly say that the days this week that I have done that I have seen a marked difference in my life and my attitude. So the power is there. We just have to draw from it. Reading helpful books, talking to a Godly friend, having some unwind time....these are all good things. They are gifts from God. However, if we go there first we are drawing water from a very shallow stream. If we drink deeply from the rivers of living water that flow from Jesus our thirst will be infinitely more satiated. This world screams "Find happiness!" and the Spirit whispers "Find Me." If we get quiet enough to listen we will hear Him. If we stop frantically searching for "happiness" we will find true fulfillment. So, please join me on this journey of learning to access the Spirit more freely. That is just what it is: a journey. And as we sojourn together, just don't be surprised if I refer to Him as "the sweater in my purse".
My dear mother-in-law agreed to come over and watch my two littles so I could make this voyage into the big city this morning, so I was trying to clean my entire house, play outside with my kids, and get ready to go to the Doctor in a 3 hour period. Piece of cake. I got the kitchen and living room clean. Good enough. Bedrooms have doors. In my frenzy to get ready while a toddler was spreading lotion and panty liners across my bathroom floor and my five year old was trying to turn on inappropriate Netflix selections in my bedroom I forgot to grab my sweater off the bathroom counter and put it into my purse. I was wearing a sleeveless shirt and jeans, because what does one wear in October in Tennessee? At 6:00 AM and 9:00 PM the temperature makes me want to cuddle under a blanket wearing a sweatshirt and fuzzy socks and drink hot chocolate. At 2:00 PM the temperature makes me want to throw on my swimsuit (and a cover up) and hang out by the pool with a cherry limeade. You have to thoroughly plan your clothing based on time of day and whether or not the places you go will still be employing the air conditioner. This choice to wear a shirt void of sleeves only works for me if I have a sweater in my bag as a safety net. So, alas, I had made an error of epic proportions (okay not really).
So, I walked into the Doctor's office and immediately realized the error of my ways. It was FREEZING in there. It was so cold that I wondered if maybe they were trying to prevent their orthopedic patients from having to ice their injuries by actually dropping their body temperatures low enough that their muscles and tendons literally froze. I sat in the waiting room talking down to myself (only in my head) for being so foolish. I thought about pulling my arms into my shirt like our kids do in preschool, but I decided that was socially unacceptable for a 34 year old woman. Then I thought "That lady at the front desk was really sweet. Maybe I could ask her for a blanket." But I realized that was unlikely to end the way that I had hoped. So, I just dealt with it. I had to wait for the Doctor for a full hour so I was there about an hour and a half. I decided that I definitely don't want to be cryogenically preserved when I leave this world. Mummify me(hey, it's October), cremate me, bury me. I don't care. I just want to be warm (but not too warm if you know what I mean). So, back to my appointment. I got a huge steroid shot in my shoulder (lovely), a diagnosis of inflamed stuff and torn stuff, and a referral for physical therapy and went on my merry way. Walking outside was sweet relief. Just as my insides started to thaw I looked down into my purse. Now, you should know this isn't a normal sized purse. It has 3 LARGE compartments. I lose things in it ALL THE TIME. It may be big enough to hide a body in (not that I've ever tried). Hey, I've got 4 kids. I need lots of space in my bag for snacks and diapers and 400 coloring sheets from church. Anyway, I look in there and what do I see? I'll give you one guess. A sweater. I had put it in there a few days back and totally forgotten it was there. I was so mad at myself. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I just froze for an hour and a half, and I had my sweater with me the entire time?! It was sitting right next to me. My salvation was within my reach the ENTIRE time.
Then, the Spirit spoke it to me tenderly as only He can, "I am the sweater in your purse." Yep. I can't even argue. How many times in any given day/week/year do I struggle and suffer through the things in this life when all along I have access to the only one who can help me. I read books, ask others for advice, self-soothe with TV or Starbucks or Ice Cream, get discouraged, give up, etc. All the while the Spirit is within me saying "You don't have to be cold. I am right here. Just open your purse and use me." When I gave my life to Christ I received the Holy Spirit. In one of the sweetest places I know in scripture Jesus says this "“All this I have spoken while still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. (John 14:25-27) And then in John 16:7 He says these words "But very truly I tell you, it is for your good that I am going away. Unless I go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go, I will send Him to you." When I look through the different translations of the bible on these two verses I see that the words used for Holy Spirit are: Advocate, Counselor, Helper, Comforter, and Redeemer of the accursed. Wow. That is quite a line up. And, Jesus Himself says that we are better off with Him leaving us here because we will have this Advocate, Counselor, Helper, Comforter, and Redeemer of the Accursed." I'm sorry. What? It gets better than having Jesus by your side?! According to the Lord of Lords and King of Kings it does. So I have this power within me. I have this person who counsels me, helps me, advocates for me, comforts me and redeems me. And I'm gonna go ahead and find comfort in Ben and Jerry's? I'm gonna advocate for myself when I feel mistreated? I'm gonna ask my human friends and family for help or counsel before I ask Him? I'm gonna try to redeem all the messed up areas of my life and this world through my own strength? This is nonsensical. And yet I find myself there ALL THE TIME. I forget because I can't see Him that He is indeed there ALL THE TIME. He is waiting for me to call on Him through prayer and listening and study. He is fully equipped to lead me through EVERY SINGLE trial of this life, and I forget that He's in my purse. Prayer has never been a great strength of mine. I mean, don't get me wrong. I pray. But I pray quickly and efficiently. I squeeze it into my day. After seeing the movie the War Room last weekend (Go see it!!!) I have been trying to make a concentrated effort to spend more quality time in God's presence in prayer. I can honestly say that the days this week that I have done that I have seen a marked difference in my life and my attitude. So the power is there. We just have to draw from it. Reading helpful books, talking to a Godly friend, having some unwind time....these are all good things. They are gifts from God. However, if we go there first we are drawing water from a very shallow stream. If we drink deeply from the rivers of living water that flow from Jesus our thirst will be infinitely more satiated. This world screams "Find happiness!" and the Spirit whispers "Find Me." If we get quiet enough to listen we will hear Him. If we stop frantically searching for "happiness" we will find true fulfillment. So, please join me on this journey of learning to access the Spirit more freely. That is just what it is: a journey. And as we sojourn together, just don't be surprised if I refer to Him as "the sweater in my purse".
Friday, October 2, 2015
Cleanliness is Next to .......Craziness
All right, here we go. Time to get real up in here. Some of you "type A" friends (whom I love and adore) may not understand this post at all. You may be shaking your head throughout and making a mental list of all the strategies you are going to helpfully impart on me. And I need you in my life. I really do. However, some of you will read this post and breathe a sigh of relief and maybe feel truly understood for the first time in a while if not ever. Regardless of which type you are, please read on so that you can have some insight into either yourself or the people that you love.
This morning I am looking around my house and feel like I could have a small anxiety attack. I spent all of last weekend trapped at home with a feverish child and cleaned house much of that time. By Monday things were in pretty good shape(as far as things go around here), and it felt great. Here we are 4 days later and it looks like the U.S. is doing nuclear bomb testing inside our home. So, naturally I sit down to write this blog instead of remedying this situation because this is what helps me be sane.
All of my life I have heard the phrase (often misquoted as being from the bible) "cleanliness is next to godliness", and all of my life it has been made very clear to me by EVERYONE that keeping a clean and organized home is an earmark of a successful woman/wife/mother. And I'm trying. I really am. EVERY.SINGLE.DAY is the same battle. For some of you cleaning house is a stress reliever and something you actually enjoy, and I salute you. I hold up my dustpan in one hand and a dirty rag over my heart with tears streaming down my face, and I give you my utmost respect. For me the mundane daily tasks of keeping a house clean are simply soul-sucking. I have done the Myers-Briggs personality assessment a couple of times and am a very confirmed ENFP. So, lest you think I'm just a lazy good for nothing, here is some of the research on us:
"Because ENFPs live in the world of exciting possibilities, the details of everyday life are seen as trivial drudgery. They place no importance on detailed, maintenance-type tasks, and will frequently remain oblivious to these types of concerns. When they do have to perform these tasks, they do not enjoy themselves. This is a challenging area of life for most ENFPs, and can be frustrating for ENFP's family members."
"ENFPs are basically happy people. They may become unhappy when they are confined to strict schedules or mundane tasks. Consequently, ENFPs work best in situations where they have a lot of flexibility, and where they can work with people and ideas. Many go into business for themselves. They have the ability to be quite productive with little supervision, as long as they are excited about what they're doing."
Yes and Yes. I find that I onlyget excited can tolerate with a half-smile cleaning the house when we are having people over, and that is because I find the time spent with people so worthwhile and don't want them to know that I'm such a hot mess. Now, in defense of myself and my fellow ENFPs, we are called "The Champion" of personality types as well as "The Inspirer" and "The Advocate". So there's that. We tend to love people well, and when we are excited about something we are world changers. So, give us a little credit. We aren't the worst. At least not all of the time. But doing the daily tasks of life that seem pointless and are quickly undone present a real challenge to our mental/emotional state.
So here I find myself in this blessed life I have created. My intense love for children and desire to have a large family collide SEVERELY with my intense hate of mundane tasks. There is more work to be done around here on an average day than I could have ever imagined, and it is all undone within 24 hours. The laundry is UNBELIEVABLE. There are 1,908,734,478 mismatched socks in this house. I am certain that somewhere in space there is an entire planet comprised of nothing more than all the missing socks of the world. The one time I mopped the kitchen floor this week it was with a one year old hanging from the mop handle the entire time and then running circles around the wet floor before it could dry. There are crumbs EVERYWHERE. Last night I laid down to cuddle with Wyatt in his bed and found Brinley's half-eaten hotdog from dinner (It was the all natural kind okay!) beneath my glut. Kinetic sand does actually make a mess despite the marketing claims, and ritz crackers may be the actual death of me. Believe me, I have tried every chart and reward system on the planet to get my kids to do this grunt work. I have tried harsh consequences. I have tried desperately to Pinterest checklist my way out of this conundrum. The fact is that in the daily reality of life around here all of those ideas are nearly impossible to effectively implement. And it seems that I am the queen of ideas and the pauper of execution when it comes to the mundane.
So what's a girl to do? And what is the point of this post? (There is one. I promise.) Well, over the years I have beaten myself up continually about my struggle to keep things clean and organized. And I have improved - some. The struggle is real and is okay as long as the striving comes from a healthy place of self-improvement and the desire to improve the lives of yourself and those whom you love. However, my struggle has often come from a place of SHAME. Feeling like I can't lick this has left me feeling shameful and embarrassed more times than I can count, and people that love me have (unknowingly) contributed to that feeling more times than I can count. I'm learning, however, that shame is NEVER a good motivator. Over the years of dealing with this downfall of my personality type, which bleeds over into areas other than just a clean house (I never played a sport more than one season) I have clung to one short story from God's inspired word. It is His sweet gift to the ENFP's of the world. Mary and Martha. Luke 10 gives us a story about 2 sisters - one was busy and worried about the preparations for their guest Jesus, and one was sitting at His feet enjoying relationship with Him. Martha (the busy sister) was so upset with Mary (the likely ENFP). Martha complains to Jesus about this unfairness and Jesus says this: “Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” Thank you, Jesus! Now, maybe you find it a stretch to apply this to areas of life other than seeking Jesus, and I certainly hope that my main focus in life is just that - to seek Him. But, I think this can be applied to every relationship in our lives. After all, each one is an opportunity to know Jesus more and to be Jesus to one another. I have come to the conclusion that it is more important to love well than it is to live in a perfectly orderly space. It is perfectly okay to drop a ball if you are picking up one that is more important.
There are tasks in life for each of us that are life-giving and tasks that are life-taking. I love spending time with my children. Reading new library books with them makes my heart soar. I love cooking. Cooking is fun and exciting. You can try new things, and you can make people happy when you serve them (unless they are under 10 and hate everything except pizza). I love sitting on the porch and talking to a friend. I love leading bible study small group and learning from the women there. I love teaching precious preschoolers 2 days a week and planning fun lessons for them. I love reading books that help me become a better person and watching a funny television show at night with my husband. This all makes sense to me. Each task is achieving a greater goal, a purpose of connection either with God, others or both.
I am not advocating that keeping an orderly home is not a valuable thing. It absolutely is. I truly believe that everyone feels a little more peaceful when things are in order. What I am saying is this - If my house is not as clean as I would like for it to be because I prioritized things that were much more important to me, IT IS OKAY. I am really trying to come to the conclusion in life that I am enough simply because the God of Heaven and Earth created me exactly as I am. This is a huge step for me after years of silent self-loathing of my shortcomings. I can compare myself to all the other moms and wives in my life who are able to juggle life and keep their home pristine all day long, but I am not them. I have my own special set of circumstances and personality traits. I lack gifts they have, but I also have gifts they lack. And this is all okay. Please know that whatever gifts you have are yours for a reason, and whatever gifts you lack you lack for a reason. The very traits that make me unorganized make me more patient with people. This contrast is true of all of our personalities, and God painted a rainbow with our differences because that is what is beautiful. We are all ENOUGH. We don't have to be each other.
I will keep striving to improve for the right reasons, but I will issue myself a little grace and shut down the shame train. Ain't nobody got time for that. So, come on over. Anytime. This home is always open to anyone who wants to enter (barring psychos or gun-wielding scary people). We will love on you. We will laugh with you. We will feed you. (Homemade goodness or frozen pizza depending on the day.) We will enjoy you. But, you might step on some legos, and don't you dare look under my couch. And if the inside is just too crazy, we will sit on the porch. I'll even sweep off the ritz crumbs for you. All I ask is this. Love me through the crazy.
This morning I am looking around my house and feel like I could have a small anxiety attack. I spent all of last weekend trapped at home with a feverish child and cleaned house much of that time. By Monday things were in pretty good shape(as far as things go around here), and it felt great. Here we are 4 days later and it looks like the U.S. is doing nuclear bomb testing inside our home. So, naturally I sit down to write this blog instead of remedying this situation because this is what helps me be sane.
All of my life I have heard the phrase (often misquoted as being from the bible) "cleanliness is next to godliness", and all of my life it has been made very clear to me by EVERYONE that keeping a clean and organized home is an earmark of a successful woman/wife/mother. And I'm trying. I really am. EVERY.SINGLE.DAY is the same battle. For some of you cleaning house is a stress reliever and something you actually enjoy, and I salute you. I hold up my dustpan in one hand and a dirty rag over my heart with tears streaming down my face, and I give you my utmost respect. For me the mundane daily tasks of keeping a house clean are simply soul-sucking. I have done the Myers-Briggs personality assessment a couple of times and am a very confirmed ENFP. So, lest you think I'm just a lazy good for nothing, here is some of the research on us:
"Because ENFPs live in the world of exciting possibilities, the details of everyday life are seen as trivial drudgery. They place no importance on detailed, maintenance-type tasks, and will frequently remain oblivious to these types of concerns. When they do have to perform these tasks, they do not enjoy themselves. This is a challenging area of life for most ENFPs, and can be frustrating for ENFP's family members."
"ENFPs are basically happy people. They may become unhappy when they are confined to strict schedules or mundane tasks. Consequently, ENFPs work best in situations where they have a lot of flexibility, and where they can work with people and ideas. Many go into business for themselves. They have the ability to be quite productive with little supervision, as long as they are excited about what they're doing."
Yes and Yes. I find that I only
So here I find myself in this blessed life I have created. My intense love for children and desire to have a large family collide SEVERELY with my intense hate of mundane tasks. There is more work to be done around here on an average day than I could have ever imagined, and it is all undone within 24 hours. The laundry is UNBELIEVABLE. There are 1,908,734,478 mismatched socks in this house. I am certain that somewhere in space there is an entire planet comprised of nothing more than all the missing socks of the world. The one time I mopped the kitchen floor this week it was with a one year old hanging from the mop handle the entire time and then running circles around the wet floor before it could dry. There are crumbs EVERYWHERE. Last night I laid down to cuddle with Wyatt in his bed and found Brinley's half-eaten hotdog from dinner (It was the all natural kind okay!) beneath my glut. Kinetic sand does actually make a mess despite the marketing claims, and ritz crackers may be the actual death of me. Believe me, I have tried every chart and reward system on the planet to get my kids to do this grunt work. I have tried harsh consequences. I have tried desperately to Pinterest checklist my way out of this conundrum. The fact is that in the daily reality of life around here all of those ideas are nearly impossible to effectively implement. And it seems that I am the queen of ideas and the pauper of execution when it comes to the mundane.
So what's a girl to do? And what is the point of this post? (There is one. I promise.) Well, over the years I have beaten myself up continually about my struggle to keep things clean and organized. And I have improved - some. The struggle is real and is okay as long as the striving comes from a healthy place of self-improvement and the desire to improve the lives of yourself and those whom you love. However, my struggle has often come from a place of SHAME. Feeling like I can't lick this has left me feeling shameful and embarrassed more times than I can count, and people that love me have (unknowingly) contributed to that feeling more times than I can count. I'm learning, however, that shame is NEVER a good motivator. Over the years of dealing with this downfall of my personality type, which bleeds over into areas other than just a clean house (I never played a sport more than one season) I have clung to one short story from God's inspired word. It is His sweet gift to the ENFP's of the world. Mary and Martha. Luke 10 gives us a story about 2 sisters - one was busy and worried about the preparations for their guest Jesus, and one was sitting at His feet enjoying relationship with Him. Martha (the busy sister) was so upset with Mary (the likely ENFP). Martha complains to Jesus about this unfairness and Jesus says this: “Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” Thank you, Jesus! Now, maybe you find it a stretch to apply this to areas of life other than seeking Jesus, and I certainly hope that my main focus in life is just that - to seek Him. But, I think this can be applied to every relationship in our lives. After all, each one is an opportunity to know Jesus more and to be Jesus to one another. I have come to the conclusion that it is more important to love well than it is to live in a perfectly orderly space. It is perfectly okay to drop a ball if you are picking up one that is more important.
There are tasks in life for each of us that are life-giving and tasks that are life-taking. I love spending time with my children. Reading new library books with them makes my heart soar. I love cooking. Cooking is fun and exciting. You can try new things, and you can make people happy when you serve them (unless they are under 10 and hate everything except pizza). I love sitting on the porch and talking to a friend. I love leading bible study small group and learning from the women there. I love teaching precious preschoolers 2 days a week and planning fun lessons for them. I love reading books that help me become a better person and watching a funny television show at night with my husband. This all makes sense to me. Each task is achieving a greater goal, a purpose of connection either with God, others or both.
I am not advocating that keeping an orderly home is not a valuable thing. It absolutely is. I truly believe that everyone feels a little more peaceful when things are in order. What I am saying is this - If my house is not as clean as I would like for it to be because I prioritized things that were much more important to me, IT IS OKAY. I am really trying to come to the conclusion in life that I am enough simply because the God of Heaven and Earth created me exactly as I am. This is a huge step for me after years of silent self-loathing of my shortcomings. I can compare myself to all the other moms and wives in my life who are able to juggle life and keep their home pristine all day long, but I am not them. I have my own special set of circumstances and personality traits. I lack gifts they have, but I also have gifts they lack. And this is all okay. Please know that whatever gifts you have are yours for a reason, and whatever gifts you lack you lack for a reason. The very traits that make me unorganized make me more patient with people. This contrast is true of all of our personalities, and God painted a rainbow with our differences because that is what is beautiful. We are all ENOUGH. We don't have to be each other.
I will keep striving to improve for the right reasons, but I will issue myself a little grace and shut down the shame train. Ain't nobody got time for that. So, come on over. Anytime. This home is always open to anyone who wants to enter (barring psychos or gun-wielding scary people). We will love on you. We will laugh with you. We will feed you. (Homemade goodness or frozen pizza depending on the day.) We will enjoy you. But, you might step on some legos, and don't you dare look under my couch. And if the inside is just too crazy, we will sit on the porch. I'll even sweep off the ritz crumbs for you. All I ask is this. Love me through the crazy.
Saturday, September 19, 2015
A Word to Moms of Babes
I saw you at the grocery store trying to calm your daughter while she screamed, and you looked so embarrassed. I saw you at the Doctor's office looking exhausted and holding your sick baby, and I knew neither of you had slept in days. I saw you at my bible study nursing your baby in one arm and taking notes from the video with the other. I saw you at the ball field trying desperately to watch your older child while your youngest one climbed all over you and adorned your clothing with the snack you gave him for distraction. Maybe you are just glad to know someone SAW you. At this stage we tend to feel either invisible or way too visible.
It has been on my heart all week to offer some encouragement to mothers of babies. For my purposes I would define this stage as being from the literal moment of conception (because that's when the figurative crap hits the fan) until your baby turns two. In the past 10.5 years I have spent exactly 11 months not in this phase with one child or another so I think that gives me some street cred here (Insert dorky mom gang sign-which might just be covering your mouth like you're yawning.) It occurred to me this week that in 2 months I will be officially out of this stage (Did someone hear angels singing?). The realization was both exciting and saddening at the same time, and I've been reflecting on some of the lessons I've learned (mostly through failures) during this precious, blessed, exhausting time of life. So whether you are expecting your first child or are chasing your fifth toddler through the yard, here are some words of advice/encouragement for you that were learned the hard way.
1. Slow it down, Sister. Life is a rollercoaster spiraling out of control these days. Everyone, everywhere will demand your time, and many will pay no creed to the fact that you are growing/nursing/chasing a baby around. Get really good at saying no to demands that will put a strain on your family and really good at choosing your "yeses" to be the ones that will bring life to your soul and to your family rather than bringing angst and stress. It took me a long time to learn this one because I was born a "pleaser"(aka middle child), but if your "yes" is motivated only by guilt then you aren't doing anyone any favors. When your "yes" is motivated by desire or the leading of the Spirit you will bless everyone involved. I would take back in a heartbeat a lot of the things that I agreed to do during these years that put strain on our family or on my marriage just because I didn't want to disappoint someone. Your first responsibility is your family. Period. Don't feel badly about that. Spend hours (I mean HOURS) just holding your baby, because there really is a finite amount of time until that baby will no longer need to be held. Take naps without feeling guilty. Sleep is a precious gift during these years and should be treated just as importantly as a clean house or a completed to-do list. Take it from the woman who has had shingles 3 times in the past few years due to just being too run down. Take time to just enjoy being a mom. When the days grow long and weary, stare at your amazing tiny gift and just marvel at God's goodness. Life really is a miracle. There is so much joy to be found in these years if you just let yourself breathe.
2. Expectations are your enemy. We all enter this motherhood thing with a thousand ideas about how things will be - what our kids will look like, how our spouses will parent, how our bodies will "bounce back" just like Jennifer Aniston's did on Friends (because her "baby" was a pillow), how our labors will go smoothly (Ah, five page birth plan for my first child that got chunked.) and our pregnancies will be magical and fairy dust will surround us as we "glow" so radiantly, how our kids will NEVER act like THAT, how WE will NEVER parent like THAT, and how all of our kids will make straight A's and never sass us or tell us we are "ruining their life"(If your kids never say this you may indeed be ruining their life.) I have learned that almost every time that I say "never" I eat those words. Our ideas of how things will be can leave us dreadfully confused and disappointed when it just doesn't pan out that way. I have been the queen of unrealistic expectations for most of my life. I have placed them on the people I love the most, which is just sinful. But more often I have placed them on myself. "My house should be cleaner, my kids should be nicer, my cooking should be healthier, my jeans should be looser, I should be volunteering more, I should have finished that book", and on and on and on. Nothing makes me feel more insecure than thinking that I am screwing up this parenting gig. But guess what - I am screwing up this parenting gig, and so is every other flawed human being on this planet. None of us are going to do this perfectly so grace must abound. Grace. It is the juice of life - grace with yourself, grace with your spouse, grace with your children, grace with your friends, grace with your family, grace with your enemies. GRACE! Expectations = Disappointment. Grace = Jesus. I choose the latter.
3. Your deal is your deal. You have probably heard the phrase "comparison is the thief of joy". In no arena is this more true than motherhood. It starts with pregnancy. If I had dollar for every time I was pregnant and wanted to cry when I saw a 5'9" woman who was pregnant and still had recognizable arms and could wear skinny jeans I would be rich. When you are 5'1" you start showing as soon as sperm meets egg and every part of your body explodes with pregnancy. I could be vomiting 10 times a day and still gaining weight (Thank you genetics. You're the best.). Then infancy came and I found myself thinking "Why does my baby cry all the time(seriously) and their baby is perfectly content? I must be doing it wrong!" And don't even get me started on the notion that one can "have it all". You may know a woman who seems to juggle everything perfectly, but I assure you she does not. This woman who is able to juggle work, kids, household, marriage, family, church, volunteer work, etc., etc., etc. without letting at least one area struggle is fictional. Maybe your friend manages to hold down a full time job and be a great mom, but her husband has a flexible work schedule and her mom lives next door. Her deal is her deal. If your husband works 60 hours a week and your family lives 1000 miles away you may not be able to hold down even a part time job. That is your deal. If we spent less time wishing we had someone else's deal and more time praising God for all of the blessings we have in our own deal this world would be a much more beautiful place.
4. What you are doing is REALLY, REALLY important. Pregnancy is hard. Like really hard. Now I know there are some of you who had magical pregnancies with a 25 pound weight gain and never a twinge of nausea, and I still love you (because Jesus says I have to), but for most of us it is really hard. Your body has been taken over by an alien life form and you spend 9 months trying to appease that precious one. Infancy is hard. Really hard. The baby needs you ALL.THE.TIME. You are on 24 hour call for this tiny human and are completely responsible for his/her wellbeing. Again, some of you brought your babies home from the hospital and they instantly slept through the night, nursed like champions, only cried when they were hungry, and played chess with you on the weekends. And we are happy for you,REALLY. But if you are one of the lucky ones finding it all a challenge, you are not alone. Having a toddler is hard. Really hard. You can't so much as go to the bathroom without worrying that you are risking the life of your little darling who takes total advantage of the situation. A quick phone conversation can have you cleaning marker off the wall for hours. Everything on the planet suddenly looks like a choking hazard. Keeping them safe is completely exhausting. I remember praying with my third child that God would just keep him alive each day because I was certain that I couldn't do it. This job of motherhood demands your very best. It demands your undying devotion. It demands a large portion of your life. And it is so very, very, very worth it. What you are doing may sometimes feel insignificant or mundane, but, Sister, this is God's work. You may feel like you are lagging spiritually. I remember last year when Brinley was still not sleeping through the night(it took 14 months), and I would open my bible study homework and just stare at it and think "I am too tired to even have a complete thought, and I have to lead the discussion on this tomorrow." So I would just stare at it for a while and then do my best to pull something out of it. It is okay that you don't have the mental capacity or energy to debate theology or read a commentary. Every diaper you change, every cuddle you give is your spiritual act of worship to God. You are loving His child. You are furthering His Kingdom. You are laying down your life. That is what He asks of you. Be very proud of the work you are doing. And when someone asks "what you do all day" bite your tongue and show them some grace. They just don't get it.
5. The fog will clear. You may feel like you will be living in a fog for the rest of your life, always exhausted and never quite the person you once were. You won't. Somewhere around when your baby turns 2 you will start to feel like you again. You will have more energy and more clarity of mind. Life won't feel so restrictive all the time and you will be able to do more things. But, when that happens, get ready. You just might start wanting another baby. :)
It has been on my heart all week to offer some encouragement to mothers of babies. For my purposes I would define this stage as being from the literal moment of conception (because that's when the figurative crap hits the fan) until your baby turns two. In the past 10.5 years I have spent exactly 11 months not in this phase with one child or another so I think that gives me some street cred here (Insert dorky mom gang sign-which might just be covering your mouth like you're yawning.) It occurred to me this week that in 2 months I will be officially out of this stage (Did someone hear angels singing?). The realization was both exciting and saddening at the same time, and I've been reflecting on some of the lessons I've learned (mostly through failures) during this precious, blessed, exhausting time of life. So whether you are expecting your first child or are chasing your fifth toddler through the yard, here are some words of advice/encouragement for you that were learned the hard way.
1. Slow it down, Sister. Life is a rollercoaster spiraling out of control these days. Everyone, everywhere will demand your time, and many will pay no creed to the fact that you are growing/nursing/chasing a baby around. Get really good at saying no to demands that will put a strain on your family and really good at choosing your "yeses" to be the ones that will bring life to your soul and to your family rather than bringing angst and stress. It took me a long time to learn this one because I was born a "pleaser"(aka middle child), but if your "yes" is motivated only by guilt then you aren't doing anyone any favors. When your "yes" is motivated by desire or the leading of the Spirit you will bless everyone involved. I would take back in a heartbeat a lot of the things that I agreed to do during these years that put strain on our family or on my marriage just because I didn't want to disappoint someone. Your first responsibility is your family. Period. Don't feel badly about that. Spend hours (I mean HOURS) just holding your baby, because there really is a finite amount of time until that baby will no longer need to be held. Take naps without feeling guilty. Sleep is a precious gift during these years and should be treated just as importantly as a clean house or a completed to-do list. Take it from the woman who has had shingles 3 times in the past few years due to just being too run down. Take time to just enjoy being a mom. When the days grow long and weary, stare at your amazing tiny gift and just marvel at God's goodness. Life really is a miracle. There is so much joy to be found in these years if you just let yourself breathe.
2. Expectations are your enemy. We all enter this motherhood thing with a thousand ideas about how things will be - what our kids will look like, how our spouses will parent, how our bodies will "bounce back" just like Jennifer Aniston's did on Friends (because her "baby" was a pillow), how our labors will go smoothly (Ah, five page birth plan for my first child that got chunked.) and our pregnancies will be magical and fairy dust will surround us as we "glow" so radiantly, how our kids will NEVER act like THAT, how WE will NEVER parent like THAT, and how all of our kids will make straight A's and never sass us or tell us we are "ruining their life"(If your kids never say this you may indeed be ruining their life.) I have learned that almost every time that I say "never" I eat those words. Our ideas of how things will be can leave us dreadfully confused and disappointed when it just doesn't pan out that way. I have been the queen of unrealistic expectations for most of my life. I have placed them on the people I love the most, which is just sinful. But more often I have placed them on myself. "My house should be cleaner, my kids should be nicer, my cooking should be healthier, my jeans should be looser, I should be volunteering more, I should have finished that book", and on and on and on. Nothing makes me feel more insecure than thinking that I am screwing up this parenting gig. But guess what - I am screwing up this parenting gig, and so is every other flawed human being on this planet. None of us are going to do this perfectly so grace must abound. Grace. It is the juice of life - grace with yourself, grace with your spouse, grace with your children, grace with your friends, grace with your family, grace with your enemies. GRACE! Expectations = Disappointment. Grace = Jesus. I choose the latter.
3. Your deal is your deal. You have probably heard the phrase "comparison is the thief of joy". In no arena is this more true than motherhood. It starts with pregnancy. If I had dollar for every time I was pregnant and wanted to cry when I saw a 5'9" woman who was pregnant and still had recognizable arms and could wear skinny jeans I would be rich. When you are 5'1" you start showing as soon as sperm meets egg and every part of your body explodes with pregnancy. I could be vomiting 10 times a day and still gaining weight (Thank you genetics. You're the best.). Then infancy came and I found myself thinking "Why does my baby cry all the time(seriously) and their baby is perfectly content? I must be doing it wrong!" And don't even get me started on the notion that one can "have it all". You may know a woman who seems to juggle everything perfectly, but I assure you she does not. This woman who is able to juggle work, kids, household, marriage, family, church, volunteer work, etc., etc., etc. without letting at least one area struggle is fictional. Maybe your friend manages to hold down a full time job and be a great mom, but her husband has a flexible work schedule and her mom lives next door. Her deal is her deal. If your husband works 60 hours a week and your family lives 1000 miles away you may not be able to hold down even a part time job. That is your deal. If we spent less time wishing we had someone else's deal and more time praising God for all of the blessings we have in our own deal this world would be a much more beautiful place.
4. What you are doing is REALLY, REALLY important. Pregnancy is hard. Like really hard. Now I know there are some of you who had magical pregnancies with a 25 pound weight gain and never a twinge of nausea, and I still love you (because Jesus says I have to), but for most of us it is really hard. Your body has been taken over by an alien life form and you spend 9 months trying to appease that precious one. Infancy is hard. Really hard. The baby needs you ALL.THE.TIME. You are on 24 hour call for this tiny human and are completely responsible for his/her wellbeing. Again, some of you brought your babies home from the hospital and they instantly slept through the night, nursed like champions, only cried when they were hungry, and played chess with you on the weekends. And we are happy for you,
5. The fog will clear. You may feel like you will be living in a fog for the rest of your life, always exhausted and never quite the person you once were. You won't. Somewhere around when your baby turns 2 you will start to feel like you again. You will have more energy and more clarity of mind. Life won't feel so restrictive all the time and you will be able to do more things. But, when that happens, get ready. You just might start wanting another baby. :)
Friday, September 11, 2015
I've Let Myself Go
At the encouragement of several(okay, maybe 2 or 3) people to start a blog for moms, I am taking up the keyboard and trying this out. I've been reading the book For the Love by Jen Hatmaker (it is amazing) and she talks about how she always loved to write, but didn't think she could make it useful until she just decided to. I have no aspirations or delusions that she and I are even in the same galaxy when it comes to writing. However, I, myself, have always loved writing in any form. I started writing poetry in the 4th grade and still have a hot pink pre-algebra folder filled with the archives of my young poetic life. There is a poetic ode to almost every ex-boyfriend I accrued during adolescence. It's a big notebook. Maybe someday when I'm dead and gone they will publish my works as a memoir. But I digress. :) The point is that I love writing. So I'm going to do it here. There may only be one other human on earth who cares to read what I have to say, but nonetheless I will enjoy the writing. And maybe someday my children can read these posts and learn just a bit about their insane loving mother. So here goes my first post. I hope all three of you enjoy it.
It's official. It has happened. I have "let myself go". It happened this week. It was a sudden and unexpected turn of events, but here we are. I haven't worn real clothes all week, and I have gone into public places with my children in pajamas and mismatched shoes. Makeup has been a scarce reality and my hair hasn't been fixed properly once. I have eaten ice cream, lots of ice cream. I can't really blame it on one thing in particular. There are a myriad of culprits, but let's just break down a few.
1.Ragweed - This wonderful family farm that we have inhabited is a blessing beyond measure. It is also a veritable factory of ragweed currently. It's like the land is just taunting you and daring you to breathe in through your nose. Consequently, I absolutely HAVE to take a shower before bed every night to wash the remnants of this evil weed out of my hair and off my skin. If I don't I will wake up the next day and spend the entire day looking like a pot head with turret's syndrome. So it has to happen. Now, before I bore children my hair had one mode - straight. I could go to bed with it wet and wake up with it - straight. I could do virtually anything and it would remain - straight. My poor mother wanted so badly to have a little curly headed girl and forced me to get perms. Within a week, my hair was - straight. This is no longer the case after the great hormonal shifts of childbearing. After I sleep on my hair it can be classified as nothing other than funky. So, knowing that I am indeed clean (and who has time for 2 showers a day?) I've just been tossing it into a ponytail and flipping it over once because I haven't found time to get a haircut this year. Problem solved. The evil weed also means that I basically cannot wear my contacts ever, so glasses have become my cool new normal. Maybe this makes me more current with the hipster crowd.
2. Viral Illness - When you have 4 children and you go anywhere one of them inevitably will get sick. Viruses chase your family like a rabid dog waiting to devour. This past week my precious baby girl contracted my least favorite of the childhood illnesses, the dreaded hand, foot and mouth. She was on me like white on rice for days and didn't sleep well for nights. It's hard to get motivated to fix yourself up when you are basically being used as a barcalounger/human tissue. So we took it easy. Real clothes - optional. Makeup - optional. Cooking - optional. Turning off the TV - optional. Sleep - PLEASE!
3. Dieting Fatigue - I'm just gonna say it. I'm tired of being on a diet. Can I get an amen, Ladies?! In the past 10 years I have spent 3 years pregnant/aka nauseous. The other 7 years I have spent trying to lose the weight from the previous 9 months. I have gained and lost about 160 pounds during that time(Don't do that math!), and I just want to be able to eat a piece of pumpkin bread and feel good about it. Am I to my goal? Nope. Do I care? Not this week. Who wants to go to Tom and Chee with me? I promise I'll put on clothes.
4. Change of Scenery - I love our new(old) town. I love that you can be yourself and people seem to love you anyway. I love that it is more laidback and there seems to be less pressure to be this perfectly put together, well-performing human without flaws. Life just seems more real out here, and I love that. It also inspires me to be okay running errands in running shorts(I never run) or yoga pants(I do occasionally do yoga) and to wear less makeup because who am I hiding from really? These people know me.
All of this is fun and very true, but there's more to this "letting myself go". I don't know if it's age, or the awesome teaching I've heard recently, or being a parent, or finally emerging from the fog of the "baby stage", or just a work of the Holy Spirit (probably all of these things), but I feel like Jesus is giving me the strength to let go of the expectations of this world. I feel like He is giving me the freedom to just LIVE in His presence. I feel Him giving me courage to follow His plans for me and not worry so much about what everyone else wants me to do or thinks I should do. I feel release from my extroverted tendency to put all my stock in my earthly relationships and instead to see each one in the realm of my God-given purpose. I'm not sure where all of this is leading, but I'm really excited to find out. And I have more peace than I've had in years. I just want to live each day being His hands to this world. And so....I'm letting myself go.
It's official. It has happened. I have "let myself go". It happened this week. It was a sudden and unexpected turn of events, but here we are. I haven't worn real clothes all week, and I have gone into public places with my children in pajamas and mismatched shoes. Makeup has been a scarce reality and my hair hasn't been fixed properly once. I have eaten ice cream, lots of ice cream. I can't really blame it on one thing in particular. There are a myriad of culprits, but let's just break down a few.
1.Ragweed - This wonderful family farm that we have inhabited is a blessing beyond measure. It is also a veritable factory of ragweed currently. It's like the land is just taunting you and daring you to breathe in through your nose. Consequently, I absolutely HAVE to take a shower before bed every night to wash the remnants of this evil weed out of my hair and off my skin. If I don't I will wake up the next day and spend the entire day looking like a pot head with turret's syndrome. So it has to happen. Now, before I bore children my hair had one mode - straight. I could go to bed with it wet and wake up with it - straight. I could do virtually anything and it would remain - straight. My poor mother wanted so badly to have a little curly headed girl and forced me to get perms. Within a week, my hair was - straight. This is no longer the case after the great hormonal shifts of childbearing. After I sleep on my hair it can be classified as nothing other than funky. So, knowing that I am indeed clean (and who has time for 2 showers a day?) I've just been tossing it into a ponytail and flipping it over once because I haven't found time to get a haircut this year. Problem solved. The evil weed also means that I basically cannot wear my contacts ever, so glasses have become my cool new normal. Maybe this makes me more current with the hipster crowd.
2. Viral Illness - When you have 4 children and you go anywhere one of them inevitably will get sick. Viruses chase your family like a rabid dog waiting to devour. This past week my precious baby girl contracted my least favorite of the childhood illnesses, the dreaded hand, foot and mouth. She was on me like white on rice for days and didn't sleep well for nights. It's hard to get motivated to fix yourself up when you are basically being used as a barcalounger/human tissue. So we took it easy. Real clothes - optional. Makeup - optional. Cooking - optional. Turning off the TV - optional. Sleep - PLEASE!
3. Dieting Fatigue - I'm just gonna say it. I'm tired of being on a diet. Can I get an amen, Ladies?! In the past 10 years I have spent 3 years pregnant/aka nauseous. The other 7 years I have spent trying to lose the weight from the previous 9 months. I have gained and lost about 160 pounds during that time(Don't do that math!), and I just want to be able to eat a piece of pumpkin bread and feel good about it. Am I to my goal? Nope. Do I care? Not this week. Who wants to go to Tom and Chee with me? I promise I'll put on clothes.
4. Change of Scenery - I love our new(old) town. I love that you can be yourself and people seem to love you anyway. I love that it is more laidback and there seems to be less pressure to be this perfectly put together, well-performing human without flaws. Life just seems more real out here, and I love that. It also inspires me to be okay running errands in running shorts(I never run) or yoga pants(I do occasionally do yoga) and to wear less makeup because who am I hiding from really? These people know me.
All of this is fun and very true, but there's more to this "letting myself go". I don't know if it's age, or the awesome teaching I've heard recently, or being a parent, or finally emerging from the fog of the "baby stage", or just a work of the Holy Spirit (probably all of these things), but I feel like Jesus is giving me the strength to let go of the expectations of this world. I feel like He is giving me the freedom to just LIVE in His presence. I feel Him giving me courage to follow His plans for me and not worry so much about what everyone else wants me to do or thinks I should do. I feel release from my extroverted tendency to put all my stock in my earthly relationships and instead to see each one in the realm of my God-given purpose. I'm not sure where all of this is leading, but I'm really excited to find out. And I have more peace than I've had in years. I just want to live each day being His hands to this world. And so....I'm letting myself go.
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