Implode, return, repeat

I must get out. If I don't, I will implode.  My children have put me on the run.  I retreat to the porch with cheese and wine.  I very seldom have more than a glass, but this day feels like it could justify a vat.  It's time to cook dinner.  Levi has been up since noon.  He's crying in his bed, but I know once he's this worked up the odds of him falling asleep are very bad.  Like me, once I get like this I can't go to God; when I'm already hoarse from yelling at the big but not as big as she thinks she is girl. I am desperate ....facebook, wine, food, maybe I'll buy something online.  I am an empty hole, screaming for any kind of relief, and I can't look where deep relief lies.  Maybe I am ashamed, or maybe anger can't stand before God. 

They would be better off without me, I sometimes think when it's ugly; without all my sins that rear and buck again and again.  I just can't get it right, and I can't even look where I know I'll find it.  I push away, like the 6 year old, until my blood cools, and the only thing left fierce is guilt.  I burn out.  I stretch thin; my bible study girl cracks and bleeds.

My God receives me like the parent I wish I was.  Why is this so hard? Why did you give me children to damage? I return, but I don't know how to do better tomorrow- when the inevitable happens and attitudes flair, shoes get tripped over, reminded to pick up and tripped over again, naptime comes without rest, oh I am manic during the screaming naps, girls fight, and tattle, and demand.  I do not know how to grow up and become the parent who can parent herself, but as I know, the absent parent is worse.

I try again.  Returning is all I have, and the miracle of littles is that they know something I have forgotten: every day is new.

I am a judgmental hag

So I had some questions about a blog post that I feel I need to write, one that is kind of harsh and may put me in front of the firing squad.  I don't mind being in front of the firing squad, but if I'm going to be there, I want it to be because of something the Holy Spirit lead me to say, and not just my own wanton criticisms, so I called another blogger whom I like and respect to ask for her wisdom.  We are discussing one thing and another, when all of the sudden I am spewing ugly all over this innocent bystander, who now can clearly see how ugly I am, and probably doesn't want to be my friend anymore....

There is this person, whom I believe to be a genuinely nice person, but is so opposite of me in every respect that everything they do rubs me backwards. Some of the stuff bothers me because I think it's unbiblical, but here's the thing, you know what I'm absolutely sure is unbiblical, judgment coming from someone other than the judge.  Being under contention with another Christian is clearly spelled out in the bible, so that's where I am, firmly entrenched in the wrong. Whether this person's actions, thoughts, beliefs are in line with scripture, I am not rebuking them out of love, I am wanting to call them out because they annoy me.  So not cool, and saying it out loud to someone I know, but don't know just made it sound horrid, which of course, it was.

So now what? Now that you all know what a judgmental hag I am? Not sure; I know that I'm not going to be taking communion while I spend some time with God on this one, and I know that this person has some strengths in places where I have weaknesses and visa versa, so every time I think about them I am going to name something good.  I am going to add them to my prayer list for the biblical issues. 

I have not walked this person's road, so I don't know their struggles, but I do know that our savior not only loves, but likes this person, and it is not okay for me to be unkind, so I'll be working on that.  maybe a part of this person's journey, even if they don't know it is to teach me a thing or two about extending grace, because when it comes back around, I need some too.

If you were the only one

Whenever I read the bible, I always see God speaking to David, to Abraham, to the Israelites, but I have the hardest time in my heart of hearts believing that he is speaking to ME. I believe that Christ died for our sins, I do, but you have to admit, it's a pretty efficient arrangement: by sending his son, ALL would have the opportunity to be saved.  One sacrifice, many souls, but here is the thing my friend, the glorious beautiful truth:  God didn't die for our sins, he died for each of our sins....If he knew that you and you alone ( I and I alone!!!) would accept his grace, he would have still endured suffering and death.  He loves YOU that much. Let it settle into your soul; He sees you, your struggles, and his hand of grace is extended to you.  In your mothers womb, he knew you, and on the cross, he thought of you, in the small hours of your suffering he sees your tears, sheds them with you.  He took your burden that you may be free of it. He gave you the word so that you might accept the truth of what he has done for you. He died so that you may have life, and on this glorious day, HE IS RISEN!

To married men

This letter is for the good ones; shmuck husbands need a whole 'nother letter. 

Dear Married men,

First of all I want to say Thanks; a lot of women complain, you know, about the whole submission bit, but most of us know that you have the much harder part of the verse. Giving himself up for his bride as Christ sacrificed himself for the church.  You are the part of the covenant that represents Jesus; that's big time, and it can't be easy. It seems small really, to submit to someone who is out there sacrificing himself daily for your needs, not that it's easy, but really in comparison, you guys have the more legitimate temptation to complain.

It could be different I suppose for other wives, but I think a lot is universal, and we tend to expect a lot of mind reading, and it would appear that that just isn't in your arsenal of capabilities, so I just wanted to lay a few things out for the edification of your marriage. 

First, we all want to be noticed.  There is no age at which women out grow wanting to be swept off our feet, hence the market for chick flicks. We may learn, as we mature spiritually to not wear our need like a flag of desperation, but it's still in there. When your wife tells you that she needs you to notice her, to speak lovingly to her, to touch her in a non sexual way, please don't respond with any kind of buts, particularly if she is communicating her needs to you in a non accusatory manner,  just listen, and validate. If she is coming to you with honest needs of her heart, just listen, you will get a turn, but now is not the time to let her know your needs. In fact, she probably already knows them, and I'd wager, being the God fearing woman that she undoubtedly is, that she is truly telling you how she would be able to meet your needs better.  I would wager, that she has been trying to meet your needs, and that what you need is for her not to have to try so hard, for it to be a bit more effortless. That, men, is where you come in. It takes only small things to sweep your wife off her feet, find out what those things are for your wife and do them. Please don't give up on trying to be attractive to your wife.   You wouldn't like it if she gave up shaving, or making any effort to please you.  We love you unconditionally, but you are still more attractive to us if you act like you care whether or not you are attractive to us.  Let her know she is the only one for you.

Next, it's hard being the wife of your youth with all these kids, so if when you come home after a hard day, and the greeting you receive is less like. "Welcome to your sanctuary, man I can't wait to get alone with later.", and more like, "Take this kid." Please don't let that set the tone.  We don't want to be that way, really, but they are like bandits, uniquely equipped to wear you down, steal your sanity, and syphon your energy....first, the little one wears you down by requiring constant vigilance just to keep the little bugger alive until the end of the day, then the middle one cracks your amour with 49,000 questions, half of which they already know the answer to, but enjoy the security of hearing the same answer for the bazillionth time, and then, the school age ones take you down, with snotty attitude and complaining. Then they bind your ankles with a little sibling bickering.  I know you had a hard day too, but by the time you get here, we feel like the pecked chicken, so a little grace, 5 minutes to recover our wits, and a do over would be much appreciated.

Last,(okay not really, but it isn't a book you know). My husband has particular difficultly with this one, probably because it makes no logical sense, but the more you think your wife wishes you would take a job in Siberia and just send money, the more she really probably just wants you to hold her.  Seriously counter intuitive, I know, but when we get overwhelmed or hormonal, or we really need a break and can't seem to get one,we might look like we could spit daggers and may seem dangerous to approach, but take a risk, and try holding your wife, maybe even gently asking her what she needs.  She make break down and cry, don't worry, in this case that's a good thing.  You did the right thing, you made her feel safe enough to cry. When we get to this point, we don't know how to say what we need.  We feel guilty for asking for help.  If you do not take this step toward us, we feel isolated and misunderstood, particularly under the influence of hormones, that other colony of bandits.

We know being married to us is sometimes confusing and difficult.  We hope it is rewarding and beautiful. Thank you for loving us at our most unlovable.  That is a picture of Jesus for us.  One we need.  Thank you for your leadership, even when we're cantankerous.  Thank you for your hard work, and your provision. Thank you for stepping up and being men in a world of boys.

Brain fog

It's hard to blog when my son is screaming.  Shrill wail piercing my thoughts.  We are sleep training, which basically makes us walking zombies. In some ways I suppose I am more fun like this, after all, I have abandoned my normal routine pursuits, because If I tried to maintain normally during this process my head would explode, so I have more free time, but feel oddly untethered.  The normal gravitational forces of my day are absent, no workout, none but the most basic cleaning. I am also more likely to give in, my resolve worn thin. Yes, by all means, watch a movie, or go upstairs alone with your sister, never mind the highlighter than will inevitably add to the wall decor when I check on you later....

How did I get like this, I wonder. A few short years ago I was reveling in the ignorance of my ignorance, otherwise known as youth.  I'm sure I was "that girl" as the song says, carefree and singing at the top of my lungs, barefoot.  I wonder if there is a way to get anything done in your adult life and still hold on to vestiges of that person....after all I'm sure it was she my husband was attracted to, not this perpetually stressed housewife who looks like she needs three days of sleep and some eyeliner, and possibly a real bra, because you know, I feel like I've been wearing a nursing bra for as long as I can remember.  But then, I wouldn't want to be one of those sad cases of thirty something mothers who still try to dress and act like they're 22, so I guess if that's the alternative, old is better than tacky.

Yesterday, my husband watched the kids for a couple of hours in the evening so I could go out with a friend.  You know where we went? The fabric store. And I liked it.  I vaguely feel there must be something wrong with this, but I can't put my finger on it. My mind has been consumed by my children, like parasitic syphons whom you love.  Strange thing, this mothering. To tell you the truth, if any of you cost me this much sleep, we would no longer be friends, and if any of you gave me this much fat, well....

In any case, I dimly remember surviving this phase with my other children, (although that may be why my hair is turning grey now), so I'm sure (almost) that I will live this time, though with an increased understanding of how it comes to pass that older couples get Harley's. It isn't so much that I want to go back to who I was, because she was actually not as cool as me in several ways, but I want to teach this new mama person how to sing barefoot and laugh with abandon.  I wonder if that is even possible? Someone please tell me it is before I start considering a Harley....

Who's coming to dinner?

The time of year has come to begin planting seeds. I love growing things, the smell of the peat and earth, nurturing seeds into plants into something beautiful and nourishing.  The work of our hands and the great work of the creator waking the earth and us from dormancy; unfurling my spirit like new leaves; it is my favorite time of year. While I was chopping cilantro yesterday, it's strong aromatic scent filling my kitchen, I was thinking about those plants, how I will use them to feed the people I love.  I have been reading a lot of Shauna Neiquist lately, so while I have always shared her "feeding people thing", I have been thinking about food a lot lately. 

Unlike Shauna, I don't host fancy dinner parties, but I am the queen of your every day week night dinner.  When I met Lance, I barely knew how to cook at all. I had a few recipes that I inherited from my mother, but on the whole, she didn't like to cook with me, because I am MESSY, and I wasn't really interested in cooking or hanging out with my mom at when I lived at home. But having oft enough heard the adage that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, I began my quest to hang on to my man. It turned out that my husband could have alternated between steak and potatoes, burgers, and tacos, and been perfectly happy, but in my early ignorance, I taught myself to cook, and to garden.

It has been a long cold winter, and finally the urge for growth has begun to tug at my soul. Shauna Neiquist says that our lives are really lived in the in between moments, you know the ones, the cracks in the routine, when we throw open the doors and welcome friends, when we slow down and see our children.  These are the moments we allow are selves to see God's grace, ever present, often overlooked.  I am a creature of routine; I have a hard time making space for moments like these, but after all, the only reason for a clean house is the peaceful feeling in the after, and the ability it gives to throw open the gates.  In this winter I have been dormant in my spirit, renewing and growing, but nestled tight into my family and home. This lent has been for me about creating space, a space I so often fill with routine minutia and trivial pursuits, but God has called me to open up that space for Him, for meaning, for joy. With spring is awakening a desire to connect with the people who matter, to open heart and home, to laugh, to listen, to feed people simply with the work of my hands. No show off meals, just good home cooking, starting with our small group Easter celebration, I am going to have people around my table once a month.  I am going to hunt down those in between moments in which our lives our lived, and in them, and in the growth of the earth, I will meet God, and I will remember his glory. Come Friends, and eat with us.

Family dynamics

In my family, as in many families I suppose, there are no secrets....tell one person, and soon everyone knows.  The only secret is from you about exactly who knows your secret and who told them. Before it gets back around to you it has been passed around, discussed, and conclusions drawn.  Everyone knows exactly how you should parent, is an expert on your marriage and home management, and ironically, the people who should be the most loving and encouraging are the biggest source of criticism and judgment.  In my family I feel constantly 9 years old, when they look at me they see that selfish drama queen, messy room and all.  In my own family y'all, I've never been allowed to grow up. They have no idea who I am today, because they see that girl, not who I have become. 

It's hard with family, because unlike with friends, you can't just decide it's too big of a pain and cut your losses. Family is sometimes a tough lesson in love and forgiveness.  It's continual, over and over, you hurt one another, but you can't walk away, you have to learn how to deal. And I'll admit, nothing brings out the tantrum throwing kid in me than the frustration of being misunderstood and judged by people who are supposed to give you the most grace, your life pandered around like fodder for gossip. I want to lash back, the tongue my defensive fortress, but then, aren't I becoming exactly who they convict me of being, as though their perceptions are enough to make me regress. It's like with family God gives you the same trial again and again, until you finally learn to handle it like a grown up.  Are you giving them the grace you are wishing they would give you? Are you allowing them to grow? Are you lashing back with the wicked tongue you inherited, or learning, slowly, to breath, to be slow to anger and quick to forgive.  Perhaps this is why we are birthed into such a mix of personalities; people we can't divorce.

In fairness, I have been on the opposing side.  It's familiar.  It's how we grew up operating.  My own sweet sister said to me one day.  "You still see me like when I stole mom's camera and denied it, like the five year old who hid vitamins in the couch." My comment about her had been off hand, but it was true, I had boxed her in, forbidden her to reinvent herself, to grow up. I was blind to the introspective young woman she was becoming, like a butterfly, right before my eyes.


The people who know our weak spots, our back stories, shouldn't use them like weapons. We know theirs in return, like shields of justification. It is a slow process, learning to offer the other cheek, and it's family that makes us vested enough to try, try again. I release their expectations for me, for my life.  I am free to become.  I am free to be redeemed, whether they see it or no.  I release my expectations of them, they are free to transform. I pray for a breath of pause, and fresh eyes.  I am forgiven; I am free to forgive.