It isn't very often here at Learning to Live in His Grace that I get a chance to write about anything of real substance, so I am ecstatic to steal Megan and Patrick's story! The ways that God has worked in their lives to prepare them for their journey, and the work that He is now preparing to do through them is incredible, so without further ado....
Our friends from our former small group Tom and Adrienne, invited us over to their place for dinner, to hear a presentation from Adriennes' sister Megan and her husband Patrick, about their upcoming mission to Japan. I was prepared for your run of the mill mission spiel, but I was not prepared to hear this young couple tell us that, because of the nature of Japanese culture, they are permanently relocating to Japan, to create long term relationships with Japanese people, and find innovative, culturally sensitive, and relational ways, to show the love of Jesus to people, and THEN, be able to introduce them to Jesus. Megan shared with us that she has been called to missions since she was thirteen, and Patrick informed her about his heart for Japan on their first date, so she would know that it would be a waste of time to pursue the relationship further if she was opposed to this life vision. Due to Patrick's experience with martial arts and time in Japan through his military service, he is uniquely equipped with a love for and knowledge of Japanese culture, and Megan's teaching experience and heart for women have led her to a program called Tea and Talk, where she creates relationships with Japanese women, while drinking tea and working with them on their English. In Japan, Megan will continue Tea and Talk, while Patrick will reach Japanese people through Fight Church. His vision is to create a safe place for people to express who they are, and explore that through martial arts, in an individually repressive culture, while sharing the love of Jesus.
Megan and Patrick showed level headed realism about the challenges before them, without ever losing the glow of passion for the work that God has given them. They let us know that because of intense respect and reverence for their ancestors, and a culture that enforces homoginy through social mores, only one percent of one percent of Japanese profess Christ as their Savior, and those who do are often ostracized! Lance and I were amazed by hearing about how God brought Megan and Patrick together as life partners and teammates with a shared passion and vision. We also loved how their unique life experiences up to this time have so clearly prepared them for the path ahead. Sometimes how God is working in your own life can seem vague, but when you see another perspective, it becomes so evident that His hand is in everything!
My bible study partner and I have recently been involved in an exploratory study of our spiritual gifts, and many of the issues with which I had been wrestling, came up in conversation as Patrick unknowingly reassured me that our spiritual gifts come to us in the form of our passions, and because they are so deeply ingrained in the way that God made us, they often don't even seem like gifts to us. God was reassuring me, through Patrick, that all you have to do is use whatever God gave you, for His glory. It doesn't always come as a revelation or accompanied by great fanfare. So, in that way too, God's hand was evident our being there to meet them, and we left feeling incredibly blessed by the conversation, as well as the opportunity to pray for Megan and Patrick's mission with World Venture, contribute financially when we are able (as they have to raise their salaries forever, since they will be full time missionaries!), and send them letters and care packages, with our children's involvement, once they are in Japan. They asked us to pray about these things for three days, which we did, and I am always incredibly moved by the power of praying hand in hand out loud with my husband!
I am so excited about the wonderful things that God has in store, and I just had to share it with you. If you feel, after prayerful consideration, that you would like to hear more about this mission, or contribute in one of the above ways that I mentioned, please let me know, and I will hook you up with Megan and Patrick! If this is not a mission that you are called to be involved in at this time, that's great! There are so many ways for each of us to use our gifts! I hope you are inspired that God is doing great work, out loud and behind the scenes.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Saturday, September 5, 2015
of excess fat
I know some of you probably don't think I'm qualified to say anything about being fat. When I recently started my journey to better health, many people told me I am not fat enough to worry about it, but, as a formerly mostly thin person, and a person who has recently struggled, I have some observations from both sides of the spectrum. During the past two years, since I had my son, I have made no progress in shedding the weight, I have experienced struggles with hormone imbalances that have intensified my difficulty, and while my BMI has never gone to unhealthy extremes, my abdominal size put me at risk for health problems, I have wanted to cry about not feeling beautiful. I have battled stress and emotional eating. I have felt that style is more about dressing to minimize the appearance of my fat, than actually enjoying clothes that reflect who I am. What surprised me though, is that there were times, when I felt my new curves were beautiful, and what I hated most was not just about my appearance, but my growing struggles with fatigue, weakness, and not being able to have the command over my body that I use to enjoy. It was absolutely not ok for me to allow myself to continue down this unhealthy path.
I have noticed among women a certain chasm of shame, a divide that is magnified over the Internet. Women struggling with their weight and attempting to embrace their beauty within their bodies, unintentionally shame thin women out of their own feeling of being judged. Thin women and heavy women have dug their heels in on opposing trenches, when we should in fact be supporting one another. Statistics show that at one time or another, almost all women experience body image dissatisfaction. I have known thin women, whose bodies I have envied, to find out that they suffered terrible battles of their own with body image and food. Every person has struggles, but being heavy is a vulnerability that is worn on the outside as well as within, while many bear their struggles in secrecy. I have a friend, who I truly believe to be beautiful on the outside as well as within, who recently received some appalling and cruel remarks about some photos she posted on social media of herself enjoying time on the beach. She has carried a child, her body is strong, and yet she has struggled with weight issues. She deserves be proud of what her body is capable of and it's beautiful attributes without unnecessary hurt. It is absolutely not ok to make a person feel devalued and ridiculed because of their body, and when people do this, it betrays a far darker issue in themselves than a bit of excess body weight. The bible says that each of us was created in God's image and our value is based on our identity in him, so it is simply unbiblical to define and demean another in that way. And yet I feel there is an undue pressure, in the name of body acceptance, to embrace unhealth. God loves us exactly as we are, but that does not mean he wants us to stay there. There is so much fear and stigma around weight, that I have often felt that I could not encourage a sister in Christ to better health in love, for fear of putting them on the defensive. God made our bodies, and cares deeply about them. The bible has a lot to say about our self care. As with any issue with which we may struggle, weather it be addiction, lust, temper (me!), or anything not of God that has control over us, we should not say, this is the way I am, I must accept it. We must believe that through Christ, we can truly do hard things. I have heard many people put up as a shield legitimate health challenges that make losing weight difficult, as a reason to settle in to unhealthy habit and sedentary lifestyle.
No, we should not feel pressure to look like air brushed bikini models for the vanity of society. Yes, we should absolutely love the bodies God gave us, no matter where we are in our journey. We should embrace the uniqueness of our body types, but when I see a sister who has given up because the journey is hard, I want to be able to say to her friend to friend, God says we are going to encounter hardship in all forms, and when weight interferes with a person's ability to enjoy the abundant life that God gave us to enjoy in the magnificent creation of our bodies, and interferes with our ability to serve our families and others as God asks of us, then it grieves me. He makes impossible things possible, and in him we can have hope. We need not stand on opposite sides and judge one another, but uplift and encourage, and not be afraid to speak truth, and help one another create better habits for health, energy, and abundance.
I have noticed among women a certain chasm of shame, a divide that is magnified over the Internet. Women struggling with their weight and attempting to embrace their beauty within their bodies, unintentionally shame thin women out of their own feeling of being judged. Thin women and heavy women have dug their heels in on opposing trenches, when we should in fact be supporting one another. Statistics show that at one time or another, almost all women experience body image dissatisfaction. I have known thin women, whose bodies I have envied, to find out that they suffered terrible battles of their own with body image and food. Every person has struggles, but being heavy is a vulnerability that is worn on the outside as well as within, while many bear their struggles in secrecy. I have a friend, who I truly believe to be beautiful on the outside as well as within, who recently received some appalling and cruel remarks about some photos she posted on social media of herself enjoying time on the beach. She has carried a child, her body is strong, and yet she has struggled with weight issues. She deserves be proud of what her body is capable of and it's beautiful attributes without unnecessary hurt. It is absolutely not ok to make a person feel devalued and ridiculed because of their body, and when people do this, it betrays a far darker issue in themselves than a bit of excess body weight. The bible says that each of us was created in God's image and our value is based on our identity in him, so it is simply unbiblical to define and demean another in that way. And yet I feel there is an undue pressure, in the name of body acceptance, to embrace unhealth. God loves us exactly as we are, but that does not mean he wants us to stay there. There is so much fear and stigma around weight, that I have often felt that I could not encourage a sister in Christ to better health in love, for fear of putting them on the defensive. God made our bodies, and cares deeply about them. The bible has a lot to say about our self care. As with any issue with which we may struggle, weather it be addiction, lust, temper (me!), or anything not of God that has control over us, we should not say, this is the way I am, I must accept it. We must believe that through Christ, we can truly do hard things. I have heard many people put up as a shield legitimate health challenges that make losing weight difficult, as a reason to settle in to unhealthy habit and sedentary lifestyle.
No, we should not feel pressure to look like air brushed bikini models for the vanity of society. Yes, we should absolutely love the bodies God gave us, no matter where we are in our journey. We should embrace the uniqueness of our body types, but when I see a sister who has given up because the journey is hard, I want to be able to say to her friend to friend, God says we are going to encounter hardship in all forms, and when weight interferes with a person's ability to enjoy the abundant life that God gave us to enjoy in the magnificent creation of our bodies, and interferes with our ability to serve our families and others as God asks of us, then it grieves me. He makes impossible things possible, and in him we can have hope. We need not stand on opposite sides and judge one another, but uplift and encourage, and not be afraid to speak truth, and help one another create better habits for health, energy, and abundance.
Thursday, June 11, 2015
Summer fun?
Oh how to approach scheduled writing time when my head is still reverberating like a gong from all this mornings fun? The only way I know, with the truth, and here it is folks. I am not a joyful mama. What I mean by that is that all the super fun activities that I have placed on my (things good moms are supposed to do to facilitate good summers and happy childhoods) checklist, turn out to be excruciating misery. I envy, oh how I envy those mamas who can bask by the pool with five littles in tow, and get dirty on the beach, and participate in water fights, and forgo schedules to linger into the evening, and get home exhausted and say, that was a blast. That my friends, is how I envision those things when I write them on the list, but in fact, the execution of them feels as though I were trying plan a complex heist with substandard evil minions.
Today: the park. Can't be that hard, right? First, my children behave as though they have never before left the house, and therefore do not know that they will need such things as footwear and jackets. They have also clearly forgotten that public bathrooms are icky nasty disgusting and must be avoided at all costs. While I am trying to facilitate the assembly of gear, bodies, and preemptive potty trips, the smallest is, as usually hatching an escape attempt. Everyone has now put on their muddiest boots and traipsed through the house back and forth as many times as possible. We are late. I am flustered.
But, it will be fine. My oldest, responsible child has promised me that she will stay with her brother in the little play area so that I can focus on bible study. That, my friends, was a marketing ploy, engineered to lull me into a false sense of security about choosing the park. Small son is thus abandoned to his own devises to demonstrate that he has more guts that brains. Boys. He does this in front of Baylie's next year preschool teacher, to make my stellar motherhood public. There are tears, though fortunately, none of them are mine....yet. The bible study is like turrets syndrome, I try to focus on my friend, but, my son's life is at this stage, basically a series of escape attempts, so I holler, and when that inevitably produces nothing but feigned deafness on the part of my children, I run after my son mid conversation, repeatedly.
By the time it is time for lunch, my son needs a nap, but he wants to keep playing, or at the very least, do some open mouthed kissing with the strange dog nearby. Anything but sit still and eat. Middle child has applesauce all over her pants and has set her spoon down in the grass. I am sure strange afore mentioned dog or it's predecessors have peed there. I can't think about it. My son is contemplating investigating the vroom vroom cars in traffic. Picnics are fun. Yay.
We have not really accomplished lunch, but we cut our losses and wrestle smallest urchin into the car kicking and screaming, which he does all the way home, and beyond. I sarcastically thank largest urchin for all of her help. The doctors office calls to reschedule Levi's appointment, but, from all the screaming in the background, they can tell this is not a good time. They are very perceptive. If we do not nap soon there will be more tears, and they will be mine.
I want so badly for my children's childhoods to be filled with memories, where their mom was not uptight, but my exhausted brain can not compute how to execute my list without it being just another thing to check off. Our bible study is about fighting back with joy. I know enough now to understand, my perspective changes everything, but I do not know how to translate this into reality, not amid the bad attitudes and the meltdowns about shoes. I am blessed. I know it. I see it, but sometimes I don't know how to live like it. I want to dig in, burrow down in my hobbit hole where we are cushioned by routine, but what can you do when you have kids but try again? Instead, we will dig out. I will seek the secret to joy on the go. Each item on the list will be an experiment in joy. God must certainly be as sovereign at the park and the beach as he is in our very own cozy cookie carton, so I pray I will learn to find him there, among the germs and old gum, and that he will be larger to me than they.
Today: the park. Can't be that hard, right? First, my children behave as though they have never before left the house, and therefore do not know that they will need such things as footwear and jackets. They have also clearly forgotten that public bathrooms are icky nasty disgusting and must be avoided at all costs. While I am trying to facilitate the assembly of gear, bodies, and preemptive potty trips, the smallest is, as usually hatching an escape attempt. Everyone has now put on their muddiest boots and traipsed through the house back and forth as many times as possible. We are late. I am flustered.
But, it will be fine. My oldest, responsible child has promised me that she will stay with her brother in the little play area so that I can focus on bible study. That, my friends, was a marketing ploy, engineered to lull me into a false sense of security about choosing the park. Small son is thus abandoned to his own devises to demonstrate that he has more guts that brains. Boys. He does this in front of Baylie's next year preschool teacher, to make my stellar motherhood public. There are tears, though fortunately, none of them are mine....yet. The bible study is like turrets syndrome, I try to focus on my friend, but, my son's life is at this stage, basically a series of escape attempts, so I holler, and when that inevitably produces nothing but feigned deafness on the part of my children, I run after my son mid conversation, repeatedly.
By the time it is time for lunch, my son needs a nap, but he wants to keep playing, or at the very least, do some open mouthed kissing with the strange dog nearby. Anything but sit still and eat. Middle child has applesauce all over her pants and has set her spoon down in the grass. I am sure strange afore mentioned dog or it's predecessors have peed there. I can't think about it. My son is contemplating investigating the vroom vroom cars in traffic. Picnics are fun. Yay.
We have not really accomplished lunch, but we cut our losses and wrestle smallest urchin into the car kicking and screaming, which he does all the way home, and beyond. I sarcastically thank largest urchin for all of her help. The doctors office calls to reschedule Levi's appointment, but, from all the screaming in the background, they can tell this is not a good time. They are very perceptive. If we do not nap soon there will be more tears, and they will be mine.
I want so badly for my children's childhoods to be filled with memories, where their mom was not uptight, but my exhausted brain can not compute how to execute my list without it being just another thing to check off. Our bible study is about fighting back with joy. I know enough now to understand, my perspective changes everything, but I do not know how to translate this into reality, not amid the bad attitudes and the meltdowns about shoes. I am blessed. I know it. I see it, but sometimes I don't know how to live like it. I want to dig in, burrow down in my hobbit hole where we are cushioned by routine, but what can you do when you have kids but try again? Instead, we will dig out. I will seek the secret to joy on the go. Each item on the list will be an experiment in joy. God must certainly be as sovereign at the park and the beach as he is in our very own cozy cookie carton, so I pray I will learn to find him there, among the germs and old gum, and that he will be larger to me than they.
Saturday, June 6, 2015
The story of John continued
If you are a regular follower of my blog, then you may remember that I wrote an overview of my relationship with my biological dad in 2013.....At that time, I felt as though I would probably never hear from him again, but around Easter, I felt an impulse to send him a picture of each of the kids. I wanted him to see what beautiful souls he is missing out on. He thanked me in a private message and sent me a facebook friend request. We had been friends on facebook previously, several years ago, but he had unfriended me. My family strongly discouraged me from accepting the request. My mom and sister, specifically, felt it was foolish to open myself up to be hurt again. I honestly did not feel I would, and I felt like, since I have come to Christ, I should try to show my father grace by allowing him to see my children at least in this way, and that way, if he ever showed repentance, the door would already be there for a relationship, though I thought his likelihood of repentance slight, I know that God can do as he chooses, and I have made it a point to pray for him regularly.
In my mind, there are two John's. One is very charismatic, and fun to be around. He is lighthearted and complimentary, and positive. This is the man that I miss spending time with. When a lot of time has gone by, and the wounds from the other John begin to fade in memory, I begin to miss this John. As a child, I ached for the praise of this John, and as I got older, I learned that the longer I could pretend that the other John had never existed, the longer this one would stick around. If I could ignore the elephant in the room, and play on his terms, I could hold the chimera of his affection for a time. Though he signed away his parental rights, my mom allowed us to spend time together so I wouldn't resent her for his absence. We went to baseball games and waterparks, races, and sled pulls, and occasionally, he would come to my school functions.
But always, there is a cycle. I never know what turns it, and suddenly I am with the other John. Anyone who has been in a codependent relationship knows the feeling of walking on eggshells, waiting to step on the inevitable hidden land mine. My dad hasn't had a drink in many years, but the pattern of alcoholic behavior is still there. This John, how do I tell you what it is like for a child to be blamed for being unloved....if I could only behave somehow, or not say the wrong thing, he would love me, wouldn't he?? My small child self wondered. Isn't it wrong not to love your child? He would tell me in a thousand ways how things were my fault and my mother's, and call me names, and the thing is, he has filled in the memory gaps with things that didn't happen, and in his mind the are irrefutably true, there is no way out. This invariably ends in only one way, with years of silence.
When he comes around again, he acts as though it has never been, and so always, have I, until this time. Many of you that are my friends on face book, have seen glimmers of our facebook relationship this time. Small things awakened a dangerous sliver of hope, through experience, I should know how convincing the honeymoon stage can be, but he even told me he had become a Christian, and as it ever is with a parent, you never totally give up. This time though, the land mine came publicly on my facebook feed, set off by a seemingly innocent post of mine about Morgan enjoying vacation bible school, and it played out like Jerry Springer live on facebook.
And so it is that I am processing that loss, again. I am sad, because I have long prayed for a chance to share Jesus with my dad, I failed to communicate well that it is not about me being good and doing things right, it is about Jesus on the cross, covering my sin in his grace, and that doesn't mean that thereafter we are perfect, and never respond out of our hurt instead of His grace, it means that we are loved by a love that large enough to cover our imperfections, a love that we do not have to earn.
But friends, I gained from this exchange as well. Jesus is the only one who can save my dad, not me. I don't bare that burden, and from this conversation I learned how much I have grown. I am not afraid of the pain anymore. It can be a part of my life, but it will not keep my from protecting my family, or telling the truth, or standing up for what I believe. He doesn't wield that power over me anymore. Also, I always believed that he was so clever at manipulation, that anyone would fall under his spell, and believe the things he said about me. The support that I received was humbling and amazing. I love you all so much for standing at my side, and loving me. I know I am an imperfect sinner, but I am not those words he spoke to me, the ones chosen because they cut deep. Thank you for seeing me. And so another round ends, but leaves me so much stronger, and so grateful for the love of Jesus, and my wonderful stepdad who chose hard love. Please continue to pray for me, and him. I leave it in God's hands.
In my mind, there are two John's. One is very charismatic, and fun to be around. He is lighthearted and complimentary, and positive. This is the man that I miss spending time with. When a lot of time has gone by, and the wounds from the other John begin to fade in memory, I begin to miss this John. As a child, I ached for the praise of this John, and as I got older, I learned that the longer I could pretend that the other John had never existed, the longer this one would stick around. If I could ignore the elephant in the room, and play on his terms, I could hold the chimera of his affection for a time. Though he signed away his parental rights, my mom allowed us to spend time together so I wouldn't resent her for his absence. We went to baseball games and waterparks, races, and sled pulls, and occasionally, he would come to my school functions.
But always, there is a cycle. I never know what turns it, and suddenly I am with the other John. Anyone who has been in a codependent relationship knows the feeling of walking on eggshells, waiting to step on the inevitable hidden land mine. My dad hasn't had a drink in many years, but the pattern of alcoholic behavior is still there. This John, how do I tell you what it is like for a child to be blamed for being unloved....if I could only behave somehow, or not say the wrong thing, he would love me, wouldn't he?? My small child self wondered. Isn't it wrong not to love your child? He would tell me in a thousand ways how things were my fault and my mother's, and call me names, and the thing is, he has filled in the memory gaps with things that didn't happen, and in his mind the are irrefutably true, there is no way out. This invariably ends in only one way, with years of silence.
When he comes around again, he acts as though it has never been, and so always, have I, until this time. Many of you that are my friends on face book, have seen glimmers of our facebook relationship this time. Small things awakened a dangerous sliver of hope, through experience, I should know how convincing the honeymoon stage can be, but he even told me he had become a Christian, and as it ever is with a parent, you never totally give up. This time though, the land mine came publicly on my facebook feed, set off by a seemingly innocent post of mine about Morgan enjoying vacation bible school, and it played out like Jerry Springer live on facebook.
And so it is that I am processing that loss, again. I am sad, because I have long prayed for a chance to share Jesus with my dad, I failed to communicate well that it is not about me being good and doing things right, it is about Jesus on the cross, covering my sin in his grace, and that doesn't mean that thereafter we are perfect, and never respond out of our hurt instead of His grace, it means that we are loved by a love that large enough to cover our imperfections, a love that we do not have to earn.
But friends, I gained from this exchange as well. Jesus is the only one who can save my dad, not me. I don't bare that burden, and from this conversation I learned how much I have grown. I am not afraid of the pain anymore. It can be a part of my life, but it will not keep my from protecting my family, or telling the truth, or standing up for what I believe. He doesn't wield that power over me anymore. Also, I always believed that he was so clever at manipulation, that anyone would fall under his spell, and believe the things he said about me. The support that I received was humbling and amazing. I love you all so much for standing at my side, and loving me. I know I am an imperfect sinner, but I am not those words he spoke to me, the ones chosen because they cut deep. Thank you for seeing me. And so another round ends, but leaves me so much stronger, and so grateful for the love of Jesus, and my wonderful stepdad who chose hard love. Please continue to pray for me, and him. I leave it in God's hands.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
On Exhaustion, Anxiety, and Forgetting how to live
When I met Lance, I was fire: passionate with youth and purpose. Then, when Morgan came, and she was early, I had to set my alarm to nurse every 2 hours, from beginning to beginning, so, if she took an hour to nurse, that meant I had an hour to sleep before the whole thing started over. Even after that, she was never a good sleeper. We always rocked her to sleep, so she got to the stage where after an hour of rocking, she would wake as soon as we layed her in the crib. I remember the devastating, paralyzing exhaustion like it was yesterday. I remember the 4am desperation for sleep, so acute that I would curl up in her crib with her, just so we could finally sleep.
2 kids later, I survived somehow, but I still live in fear of that kind of tired. If I don't go to bed "on time", I lay there with the anxiety that I will not get enough sleep. Counterintuitive, I know. I have constructed careful boundaries by which I will get enough rest. I must preserve the energy to function. I must get enough sleep to get up and clean the house and mops the floors, so that the kids will have a nice place to drag stuff out and track stuff in, so that my husband can come home and wonder what I did all day. I am so jealous of my energy that I don't want to stay up and watch a movie with my husband. I don't want to go out. I don't want to invite anyone over, for fear that they won't leave. I am bound and ruled by anxiety and fear of exhaustion.
Don't get me wrong, I think it's ok, imperative even, for moms to set boundaries for the health and well being of her family, but I got beyond that somehow. Though my life is beautiful to the point of pain, I have forgotten how to live in it. I have stopped singing, even at home. My song, my passion, has been stifled by the daily, by just trying to maintain. Occasionally, it will rise up and flap wildly inside me, like a trapped bird trying to escape. I feel it. I don't know how to let it out. I get melancholy. My husband chalks it up to female hormones. We go on.
Hear me mama: it doesn't serve our families to live this way. It doesn't serve God. Motherhood isn't supposed to feel like groundhogs day: rote, mundane, redundant. I used to feel God made me for more. Sometimes, when I get this way, my husband fears that I wish I chose I different path, that I want a different life, but that isn't it. I don't regret that big choice. It is how I've handled a thousand small choices since then that I wish I could, nay, must learn how, to change. I must learn to trust God actively for the needs of tomorrow, so that I can live today. I must learn to practice contentment and joy in the now. I need to change my perspective, so that I can appreciate His gifts. It only takes a moment for everything that we take for granted to be gone.
Of course, it is one thing to type, and another to live. We must condition ourselves to the discipline and practice of Eucharisto, thanks, grace, and joy. We must practice it, until it becomes our nature.
"Don't die with your song still inside you."
Sing we must, today.
2 kids later, I survived somehow, but I still live in fear of that kind of tired. If I don't go to bed "on time", I lay there with the anxiety that I will not get enough sleep. Counterintuitive, I know. I have constructed careful boundaries by which I will get enough rest. I must preserve the energy to function. I must get enough sleep to get up and clean the house and mops the floors, so that the kids will have a nice place to drag stuff out and track stuff in, so that my husband can come home and wonder what I did all day. I am so jealous of my energy that I don't want to stay up and watch a movie with my husband. I don't want to go out. I don't want to invite anyone over, for fear that they won't leave. I am bound and ruled by anxiety and fear of exhaustion.
Don't get me wrong, I think it's ok, imperative even, for moms to set boundaries for the health and well being of her family, but I got beyond that somehow. Though my life is beautiful to the point of pain, I have forgotten how to live in it. I have stopped singing, even at home. My song, my passion, has been stifled by the daily, by just trying to maintain. Occasionally, it will rise up and flap wildly inside me, like a trapped bird trying to escape. I feel it. I don't know how to let it out. I get melancholy. My husband chalks it up to female hormones. We go on.
Hear me mama: it doesn't serve our families to live this way. It doesn't serve God. Motherhood isn't supposed to feel like groundhogs day: rote, mundane, redundant. I used to feel God made me for more. Sometimes, when I get this way, my husband fears that I wish I chose I different path, that I want a different life, but that isn't it. I don't regret that big choice. It is how I've handled a thousand small choices since then that I wish I could, nay, must learn how, to change. I must learn to trust God actively for the needs of tomorrow, so that I can live today. I must learn to practice contentment and joy in the now. I need to change my perspective, so that I can appreciate His gifts. It only takes a moment for everything that we take for granted to be gone.
Of course, it is one thing to type, and another to live. We must condition ourselves to the discipline and practice of Eucharisto, thanks, grace, and joy. We must practice it, until it becomes our nature.
"Don't die with your song still inside you."
Sing we must, today.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
The Long Road
A couple of weeks ago, Morgan missed the bus. We live like 2 minutes from the school; taking her definitely would have been the easier thing, but after an internal battle, I decided to allow her to learn from the consequences of dawdling. It was hard to watch her weep and wail and want to go to school (but it's so cool that she likes school that much, right?). Believe me, I have codependent tendencies. I wanted to rescue her, like my lovely, caring friend that is always running her daughter her band instrument and who probably thinks I am a cold hearted Nazi mother, but I refrained.
After she was clam, I explained that I was not angry, and that she was not being punished: the simple consequence of missing your ride, is not going to the place your ride was headed. I explained that as a mom, it's my job to teach that things that are your responsibility will be taken responsibility for by you, not me. I explained that the consequence of missing one day out of 12 years of school is small, so small, but that the consequence of not learning to accept consequences for your actions as they get larger and more severe is huge. And at the end of the day, I considered that hard decision a mom win for both of us. I did the short term hard thing, for a long term investment in my child's charecter, and my daughter tried to see a situation from a perspective that was not her own. If only a glimpse, I think she understood that I see a future for her that she can't immediately perceive, and that I have that future in mind when I do things, even the ones she doesn't like. I responded firmly, but without anger, and we went on to have a day that included both work and fun.
Lord, please help us to be more often as we were on that day: me, firm but loving, and my children, willing to accept correction, and help all of us mama's to look down the long road when we have hard parenting choices in our path.
After she was clam, I explained that I was not angry, and that she was not being punished: the simple consequence of missing your ride, is not going to the place your ride was headed. I explained that as a mom, it's my job to teach that things that are your responsibility will be taken responsibility for by you, not me. I explained that the consequence of missing one day out of 12 years of school is small, so small, but that the consequence of not learning to accept consequences for your actions as they get larger and more severe is huge. And at the end of the day, I considered that hard decision a mom win for both of us. I did the short term hard thing, for a long term investment in my child's charecter, and my daughter tried to see a situation from a perspective that was not her own. If only a glimpse, I think she understood that I see a future for her that she can't immediately perceive, and that I have that future in mind when I do things, even the ones she doesn't like. I responded firmly, but without anger, and we went on to have a day that included both work and fun.
Lord, please help us to be more often as we were on that day: me, firm but loving, and my children, willing to accept correction, and help all of us mama's to look down the long road when we have hard parenting choices in our path.
Friday, January 2, 2015
Reflections on the New Year
Happy New Years, reader! It's that time of year again, a time to assess the person we've become in the last year, and compare her to the person we want to be....I love a new beginning, slate like the crisp snow, we are a blank canvas, gessod by the Master, for a year of becoming. But alas, when the feeling of freshness wanes, I'm an all or nothing girl...the kind who seldom works out if she misses a Monday, who misses quiet time for a month because the week didn't go as planed, who throws the budget or the eating plan out the window when I've faltered.
This year friends, I need a resolution for my resolutions. I will be kind to myself. I will grow. If I don't feel up to interval training, I will opt for yoga. Life happens. Three days a week is in fact, better than zero. If I yell at my kids, fail to make my bed, skip church, eat unhealthily, miss quiet time, I will make a next best choice. I will refuse to be a Monday person. My God's Grace is sufficient any day of the week. And because I know that there is a little New Years, a measure of fresh start, any moment that we chose to make a more God honoring choice, I will make more progress than ever could with my old cloak of all or nothing, because kids will get sick, the unexpected will come up, I will have bad days.
It will be a slower road than I want it to, this new path to growth, but it will get me farther in the end, because instead of sprinting to a roadblock, I will keep steady along the path. I will see more of the scenery, I will let the lessons write themselves on my heart. I have a feeling that when I step into the next New Year, I may be quite different. I hope, the same will be said for you. Blessings my friends, may your resolutions go well with you, and when you fail, which indeed you will, may you find the grace you need to resolve again.
This year friends, I need a resolution for my resolutions. I will be kind to myself. I will grow. If I don't feel up to interval training, I will opt for yoga. Life happens. Three days a week is in fact, better than zero. If I yell at my kids, fail to make my bed, skip church, eat unhealthily, miss quiet time, I will make a next best choice. I will refuse to be a Monday person. My God's Grace is sufficient any day of the week. And because I know that there is a little New Years, a measure of fresh start, any moment that we chose to make a more God honoring choice, I will make more progress than ever could with my old cloak of all or nothing, because kids will get sick, the unexpected will come up, I will have bad days.
It will be a slower road than I want it to, this new path to growth, but it will get me farther in the end, because instead of sprinting to a roadblock, I will keep steady along the path. I will see more of the scenery, I will let the lessons write themselves on my heart. I have a feeling that when I step into the next New Year, I may be quite different. I hope, the same will be said for you. Blessings my friends, may your resolutions go well with you, and when you fail, which indeed you will, may you find the grace you need to resolve again.
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