Wives…love your husbands…please February 9, 2013

**Please note before you read this that, again, I am speaking from my own experience.  I only know that in my own marriage this has been a big issue at times and the offender has been myself. My desire is to encourage you to care enough about your marriage that you would be willing to consider what you may need to change.**

 

If I have learned anything in the last 15 years and few months of being married to my husband, its that he, and all men I will gamble to say, want one thing from their wives. Without it, an environment of lost tempers, hurt feelings, loss of intimacy and bitterness prevails. It has been said that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and for many others its through other various parts of the anatomy (yes, I went there). But, throughout time, the greatest need of any man in a relationship is respect. Respect is a lost art. It isn’t expected anymore, it isn’t given anymore and our culture is more concerned with degrading, selfish, I can do what I want and say what I want rights. I think we have gone so far away from general respect that when we witness it, its almost shocking. If there is anything in the world that emasculates our husbands and beats them into a position of lethargy, its our attitude of disrespect.

 

So what does that look like? I have seen, and done, many versions of it over the years. Eye rolling comes to mind. Pouting when we don’t get our way. Bad mouthing our husbands to our friends, or worse, to our friends and his while he’s standing right there.  Scrubbing the counters pretending to listen when you are really just coming up with your next missile to shoot back. Turning down his advances – repeatedly. Usurping his discipline decision with the kids. Allowing the kids to run to you and “tell on” dad when he has told them no about something. Playing the “my day was harder than your day” card (I’m a pro at this one). Giving him the “are you an idiot?” expression when he has an idea. The list goes on and on and on….

 

So why is it so hard for us to show respect to the man we love and chose to spend the rest of our life with? Let me tell you right off the bat – its not usually because of him. Its a heart issue with you. How can I say that? Cause I know my own heart. For years, even in Christian circles, we have consistently avoided the dreaded “S” word. Accidentally letting it slip in the wrong circles can cause an uproar of massive proportions. You will be labeled as an old time fuddy duddy with ancient ideas by most if you propose it as an option. Submission. GASP! We don’t respect our husbands because we have a submission issue. Just as the men are told to “love their wives as Christ loves the church,” (and if you contemplate that command for a bit – you will see its a tall order) we are told to “submit to our husbands, as unto the Lord.” But God doesn’t really want me to do that right? I mean, we’ve come so far. Women’s lib and bra burning and executive positions – we could have had a woman president a few years ago if things had worked out differently! We’re supposed to be able to bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan and never let them forget that they’re men, cause we’re women right?! How could a God who values me, created me, loves me and makes me who I am ask me to do such a thing? Won’t I be denying myself? Won’t I be laying down my life for the sake of someone else? Won’t I be….wait a minute…that concept sounds familiar…if I do those things, I will be doing what Jesus did. Light bulb!

 

Can I challenge you that if you have a respect/submission issue with your husband that you might have a trust issue with the Lord? I know I did, and still do at times. Instead of trusting that the Lord has His hand on me, I want to be the one in control. My husband, sadly, becomes the casualty. I cannot tell you the amount of times I have stepped over this boundary with my husband over the years. In the name of “being able to do it better” I have literally snatched hammers from his hand, babies from his arms, the driver’s seat of the car, paintbrushes, shovels, spatulas….Its embarrassing how long this list could be. I have talked over him, interrupted him, corrected him, insulted him and for what reason? Because I want him to be like me, think like me and do everything my way. I want to be in control. I want to be the leader…and the truth is – that’s not my job.

 

But what if my husband really is a screw up? He doesn’t deserve my respect. Well, hate to tell you, he’s still your husband and God doesn’t suggest we submit and honor them – He expects it. If that statement is hard to swallow, then again I challenge you to look at yourself and figure out who you are trusting with your future. Even if your husband does irresponsible things or screws up, you still owe him your respect – not because he deserves it – but because the Lord asks it of you. If you say you trust the Lord, than trust Him to bring you through. We honor the Lord when we choose to honor our husband. It is not always easy, but it is right. There are many times I have bit my tongue and not just figuratively. There are many times I have to tell myself to shut up. If your default mode is to always remind your husband of his screw ups and his failures, or to always fight for your way, you are headed down the wrong road. Your husband doesn’t need you to be his mother – he needs you to be his wife. Its taken me a long time to figure that one out and actually believe it.

 

Just as much as I need my husband to acknowledge what I do and affirm me, he needs me to be his biggest, most willing supporter and confidant. He needs my respect. He needs it even more when we disagree. Being respectful is a choice – a God honoring choice – and when given, yields an amazing amount of intimacy. When withheld, it yields and amazing amount of bitterness.

 

Wives…love (and respect) your husbands….please.

Husbands….love your wives…please February 8, 2013

**Please note before reading this post that I am speaking from my own experience and that I realize many mom’s work and do other things. In no way is this post about a particular life style being better than another. Being a wife and mom is hard no matter what you do each day. Insert your own circumstances, and I believe the same message will come forward.**

 

Last fall Steve and I took a marriage course offered at our church. It is the second marriage enrichment class we have participated in over the last two years. The time we have spent investing in our relationship has been difficult in the sense of homework each night and a three hour group class on Sundays and lots and lots of conversations – and it has all been worth it. Marriage takes work – don’t ever let anyone tell you it doesn’t. It takes two people on the same page for the duration to thrive and two people to hash out the details when you find you aren’t on the same page. Marriage will show you what you really believe, what really matters to you and what some of your deepest needs are that you never new you had. You will see yourself at your worst, most selfish, worst morning breath and bed head and also at your best, most selfless, greatest hair day ever. My only regret – we didn’t do these classes sooner so we could enjoy each other better and more as much as possible.

 

This last class focused on being united and, specifically, united spiritually while looking at different aspects of our marriage. After the first marriage course we took two years ago we had a pretty good handle on many of our issues – note I didn’t say we had them all worked out – but during this class, something was bothering me and I couldn’t put my finger on it. A nagging something, an uneasiness. The harder part was that it was related to the week devoted to spiritual leadership in the home. But, what I was uneasy about didn’t really have much to do with that idea specifically. Steve has been a great leader to our kids spiritual growth and has spent hours praying with them, teaching them, spending one on one time over the years. We pray together, talk about what we feel God is teaching us, we share verses that are on our hearts that apply to what’s going on in our life. But there was something underneath all that still.

 

A few weeks after this nagging began, I had a minor melt down at our homeschool table and I said to my lovely brood of little people, “The truth is – I DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS FOR YOU.” Shining, humble mom moment right there. I was angry. I was feeling disrespected. I was tired of fighting about whatever work we were doing and then hearing complaints about chores and that the lunch menu wasn’t up to par. And the truth is – I don’t have to do all this for them. It is a labor of love and sacrifice. It would be much easier for me to shove them all out the door and wave to the yellow bus as it drives away and then actually spend that 7 hours of childless time finishing laundry, taking a walk, taking a shower, grocery shopping, planning nice meals, writing more, training my dog….I could even toy with a part time job at a bakery or restaurant….I could have entire afternoons to myself. Then it hit me…that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach had a name. Unappreciated. I feel unappreciated.

 

So what does this have to do with my husband? Sadly – whether he likes it or not – everything. You see, when you choose to be a wife and then are blessed to be a mom, and then you choose to homeschool – your circle of affirmation gets very small. VERY small. I’d like to say that all of us who co-op together and see each other each week are the best bunch of encouragers to one another, but most days we are trying to get the job of schooling done and share a few high fives and each others burdens for a few hours and then we are off to our islands once again. My husband is sometimes the only adult I see in a day. The only one I can talk to. He is almost always the sole giver of life affirming encouragement. The flip side is that he is also often the sole giver of life sucking criticism – and not even aware that he’s doing it. I have always wondered about a verse in Genesis that has stuck out to me over the years and it finally made some sense to me in this moment. “…Yet your desire will be for your husband. And he will rule over you.” Whether I like it or not, if I am a married, my husbands approval or disapproval is going to effect my life because God has wired me that way. To further that point, how he acts in this area is also how my children will act. If he doesn’t show me appreciation – they won’t either. I don’t like to admit it, but my husband’s opinion, words, blessings, approval mean more to me than anyone else’s – he has the power to make me soar higher and strive for better things and he also has the power to make me sink deeper into a pit and crash and burn. And I know I’m not the only one.

 

Our society doesn’t exactly take notice of people like me and when they do, its usually not in the positive. Affirmation doesn’t come from the world. My kids do not naturally say thank you – to them wiping their mouths, cleaning their clothes, feeding them, washing them, schooling them is just what I do. Affirmation doesn’t come from them without prompting. So that leaves the man at the top. Husbands – like it or not – you set the tone for your house when it comes to loving, appreciating and respecting your wife. If you don’t do the above – neither will your kids.

 

This was not an easy conversation to have with my husband for many reasons. I felt beyond selfish even bringing it up. But I began to see how important this was to me. I actually had to use the words, “I want you to tell me thank you for dinner in front of the kids. I want you to make a big deal out of what I do. I need to have you celebrate me and I need them to see it.”  I need my husband to step up and love me, respect me, cherish me and appreciate me in front of my kids and others. If he takes the time to affirm the endless cycle of cooking, cleaning, schooling and such things – it gives me a reason to keep doing them and spurs me on to want to do them well.

 

Husbands – love your wives. Love her burnt toast, her not so perfect hair, her yoga pants and mismatched socks. Love her devotion to you and your kids. Love her baskets of clean and dirty laundry laying around the house and the sticky stuff she missed on the counter. Love that meals are had, children are nurtured, tears of joy and frustration come. Love her frazzled, exasperated tones at the hellish hour of the day between 4-5 PM when she is desperately watching for the calvary to arrive. Love that the best time of day is when you come through the door and inwardly she rejoices that she’s not alone. Love that when you leave for work before the sun comes up, you get to hear her snore.  Love that when all is said and done and you have grown old – she would go back and do it all again a hundred times because you took a moment to stop and say, “Thank you.” And you taught your kids to do the same.

 

Husbands….love your wives.  Please.

Safe or not… January 21, 2013

It is not a surprise by now to those of you who read my ramblings that I struggle with quite a few things…not all the time, but there are definitely themes that run through my life that pose continual challenges to me. I have talked about comparing before and how I am very good at throwing myself under the bus and all together not always comfortable in my own skin. My current lifestyle lends itself to many major questions of my sanity, decision making abilities, organizational skills, ability to finish things and my ineptness at all the above.

 

Sometimes when I look back, way back now, to high school or college, I wonder what happened to that girl. For all my moral faults at the time, I was one crazy organized and scheduled human being. I lived and breathed my little purse sized organizer and being early to everything was a way of life. Assignments always turned in. Notes always tidy. Tests studied for. I never skipped classes in college unless I was dying. I remember getting up for an 8 AM statistics class when it was 10 below zero before you added in the wind chill and was then promptly sent home at 8:15 because our professor was snowed in. I was able to cross all the t’s and dot all the i’s and had well running plans.

 

Then I got married. I didn’t have just my stuff to organize anymore. I had to work with someone else’s stuff and schedule and temperament. I found out he didn’t play by the same rules or have the same expectations as me. There were bumps and adjustments to be made, but over all I still had a good handle on cleaning, laundry, work, projects, entertainment. We even added two cats to the mix and all was good. I joined Bible studies at church and got involved in the Woman’s Ministry and have pages and pages of finished workbooks with foot notes and life applications. We were part of a small group and we even made time to go on a mission trip and weekend travel. I was still in control and could present my finished check list 99% of the time.

 

Then I had my first child. I had read all the books about scheduling and crying to sleep and all the perfect ways to get a baby to do what you want. Mine didn’t read the same book. He didn’t sleep when he should. He liked to be snuggled and rocked late into the night. As he grew he liked to play and read books and spend time with me. The dishes were left undone many nights. The laundry waited for me to get to it. The toilet got cleaned a little less often. But I still held on and made it work on the surface. We had play dates and outings. We took stroller rides and dug in the mud. But it was okay, because if I stayed up later I could still get it all done.

 

Then I had my second child. I didn’t read any books this time. It wouldn’t have mattered because no one could tell me why this little one cried so much. Not all the time – just when you wanted to sleep or make dinner or take a shower. I remember kicking our bedroom door open one night like a crazy woman with wide eyes yelling at my poor, unaware, heavy sleeping husband that it was most certainly HIS turn! Things began to slip out of my fingers. The plates spinning became very wobbly and threatened to dive off their sticks. But I would tell myself again and again, ” I can do it.” Push through. Keep smiling…even though you feel like you are dying a bit inside.

 

Then I had my third child…three weeks after we moved into a new house. I am sure there are things we never unpacked. I know we had way too many projects going on. We decided to homeschool for preschool for our oldest and have continued with everyone since. Our third presented many different challenges with undiscovered ear infections and hearing issues. Many days I found I was the one in tears because I couldn’t figure it out. How do you meet the needs of all these people!? My well filled in Bible study books became unfinished monuments to my inability to do it all. My knees became rough from calling out to Jesus with a simple, “Help me, please! Give me wisdom, give me strength….just help me….please….Jesus I need you.”

 

My standards began to change. I realized that I couldn’t do it all anymore all the time. And I felt like I was failing. Many days I would think back over what I had accomplished and would come up blank. As I would look around at the piles of laundry, dishes, toys and other things I felt mocked. Yet, at the same time, I remember hearing my children laugh, or sing. I felt their arms around my neck – wanting me when they were scared or hurt. I heard them utter their first prayers from tender hearts and I began to learn from them what the faith of a child really looks like.

 

Then we lost baby number 4. A part of me got lost that day too. We weren’t far enough along to know if we were going to have a girl or boy, but to me, our sweet one in heaven is Isaac – his name means laughter. I wondered if laughter would return like before and clung to God’s promise that He will turn our mourning into joy…

 

Then we had baby number 5 – who’s middle name is Joy.  By this time, there weren’t any checklists to master. There wasn’t room for rigid schedules – children  have a way of throwing up or throwing tantrums in the middle of my plans. I decided to enjoy them each day instead of regulate them. My husband and I decided to love one another, not fix one another. I don’t keep up with our laundry. Thankfully, our kids are now old enough to help with the dishes and other things. Our house is a home full of noise, tears, yelling, laughing, fighting, joke telling, singing, dancing, learning, praying and adventure and I love every stinking minute of the chaos. Its hard some days, yes, but without it all my life would be one big, black, depressing hole if I had to go back to just myself.

 

When I became a believer in Jesus 20 years ago, I thought I knew what it meant to be a believer. I thought it meant following rules, not associating with certain people, not doing certain things. I thought it was a checklist and a Bible knowledge, theology race. Yet, today I am more convinced that being a believer is none of these things in its core. Jesus didn’t have a planner or cell phone. He had a love for people and compassion for them. He followed every inclination of His Father perfectly. He didn’t balk when 5000 people showed up and He had to feed them. He didn’t tell the little children to go away because He had other things planned. He was available. He despised the Pharisees and their legalism. He did things on the Sabbath He wasn’t “supposed” to do. He was a radical who turned everything upside down – including me.

 

I have to be honest and say many times I look at my life and the unpredictability of it all and my gut response is to want to try and control it. To tighten the reigns and rule with and iron fist and be inflexible for my own sake. I long for a check list and something to be finished so I can feel affirmed by things. But, the Lord has graciously used His blessing of a husband and children to do what I could never do – learn to let go, unclench my hands and live life desperately holding onto the only One who can make this crazy circus train arrive where its supposed to. I am wholly inadequate for the task set before me on my own. I have no hope without Jesus. At the end of my life, I will not be able to utter one “I” and follow it with a true statement of anything good I may have done. Anything good can only come from “Him.”

 

Being where I am, being willing to take on whatever He brings me, forces me to abandon everything safe and tangible and trust Him in everything. Where I find myself today wasn’t my plan, but He knew what was, and is, better. He has shown me my own pride and has methodically wiped it away year after year. He has shown me that sitting with drug addicts, the sick, the marginalized is where He would sit. He has softened my heart to others that years ago I wouldn’t identify with – the broken, the ill equipped, the marginalized, the “real” sinners. Truth is, as our pastor has said, we’re all about three wrong turns/decisions away from disaster. None of us are immune to screwing up.

 

I have shared things from C.S. Lewis before and this quote is one of my favorites. Upon meeting Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, the four Pevensie children hear of Aslan, the Lion and upon asking if He is safe, Mr. Beaver says, “Safe? Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

 

He isn’t safe….but He’s good. I want to be just like Him. Who’s up for making mud pies?

Whom Shall I Fear? January 16, 2013

Wow. It has been a long time since I have found time or energy to write much less complete a thought….I guess holidays do that. The past few months have been difficult for different reasons. Good news is hard to come by most days and I’ll admit by the time Christmas actually arrived I was sitting on the edge of a lovely hole of depression waiting to just suck me in and hold me down for a while. This happens to me from time to time. I have struggled with depression for about the last 6 years off and on and found myself in another down slide wondering if I was headed for a full fledged lay down and disappear moment. But, thankfully at the same time, there was a rally occurring in my husband and I chose to fight and follow his lead to seriously consider establishing some habits I have talked about for many years. For example – getting up regularly at 7 each day before the kids to get myself together before the hurdle jumping begins. I have made a rule that if I am hungry, I have to eat a carrot before something else. Sadly, no more sweet tea from McDonalds – that one really hurts. I’m on week two and doing well and it has caused me to reflect a little over why I didn’t do this stuff sooner…..and the answer is FEAR.

 

Good old fashioned fear. Fear of change, fear of pain, fear of loss. Fear of failure, fear of having to discipline myself. The more I have pondered this, the more I have come to realize how much I have allowed fear to rule my heart lately in many things and it has caused me to feel paralyzed at times or like quitting in others. This has been a weird semester to say the least. First, it was one of the few in many years I felt prepared for. I had a plan and then it unraveled for reasons beyond my control and we just never fully recovered. The old voices came back like so many other times….”You can’t do this homeschooling thing. Look at your kids! They struggle with learning things. They are nasty to each other. Where are the perfect, orderly, Mensa candidates that are supposed to be a result of homeschooling? You should just quit now.” This is a constant battle with me – fear of failing my kids because they don’t measure up to the standards the world puts out there. Never mind my oldest is one of the most compassionate people I know. My second has the largest heart for little people. My third is bursting with energy and hilarious. My fourth is a servant at heart and is the best snuggler ever. There is no safety net here – I don’t have a teacher to blame because I’m her. Fear of what others think….about me, my kids, my home, my stupid dog that can’t stay in his own yard. Too many decisions, actions, thoughts, responses based on fear….FEAR OF THE WRONG THINGS. Let me say that again…fear of the WRONG things.

 

Tonight while thinking through some of this I was reminded of a verse in Proverbs that says, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of all wisdom.” It says this several times throughout the book in various ways. Then I thought of a conversation I had with the kids the other day about how the first thing angels say to people they appear to is, “Do not be afraid.” Just the mere sight of one of the hosts of heaven – a creation – inspires knee trembling, fall on your face fear. Then I thought of Isaiah who could only utter, “Woe to me. I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty.” I am afraid of the wrong things. If I could just imagine even a glimpse of the holiness of God. His righteousness, His justice, His mercy, His love – I would truly understand what I should fear and it is HIM.

 

So often we love to talk about this flowery, hippy like, everything is going to be okay, spirit in the sky and forget who He is. The Lord spoke the world into being. He intricately detailed the wings of a Monarch butterfly. He breathed life into Adam and He covered the same when he chose to rebel. The Lord establishes kingdoms and removes them. He gives and takes away. His love for His creation is fiercer than anything we can imagine in a love story and His mercy is as endless as the stars. And He cares for me. He cares…for me. So why do I let others opinions make me afraid? Why do I focus on checklists and standardized tests? Why do I apologize for the awkwardness of my kids and their imperfections? Because I have allowed my heart to be afraid of the wrong things – the world and man.

 

I am so glad this is not my home and yet one of the side effects of this is never really feeling comfortable here. I am different because I have accepted the gift of grace. Now hear that I did not say better – I know where I came from and who I am capable of being. I am different because my heart longs for something else not of this world. This world can never satisfy the longings of my heart – it tries and fails over and over again. I fail over and over again to remember this. I allow myself to become fearful that I won’t measure up, that my kids are going to be homeless vagabonds, that my friends won’t like me…and then I hear the whisper of His still, small voice….this is not your home.

 

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”  Lord, teach me to fear the right things….

 

Thankful, but… November 22, 2012

Like most everyone else in America tomorrow, I will sit with my family around our table laden with too much food that took hours to prepare and talk about what I am thankful for. We already did a little bit today. We took the kids and the dog out to Allerton Park for a 3 mile walk to enjoy the unseasonably warm day and took turns saying what we were thankful for. Each other, God, our extended family, our home, our friends….the usual. Yet as we walked and talked my heart found it hard to really enjoy what we were talking about. It all seemed very scripted and expected. Of course we are happy as a family. We are very blessed and don’t have a whole lot that is worth complaining about when you consider what others face. It would be ridiculous to not be thankful everyday for our kids, my husband, our safety, the food we have each day. I then began to wonder what would it be like if Thanksgiving was replaced by another holiday called “Contentment.”

 

Thanksgiving by definition is, “the act of giving thanks; grateful acknowledgement of benefits, or favors, especially to God.” This is all fine and good, but we are very capable of being thankful and never being content. Contentment by definition is, “satisfied with what one is or has; not wanting more or anything else.” My husbands employers send money to our account each month, yet I always wish it were just a little more. I have a closet full of clothes, yet I always feel like I don’t have the right kind. I have a kitchen full of food and many times can’t find anything to eat. Believe me, I am very thankful for what we have. I’m just not content most of the time with it. There in lies my issue.

 

It is very sweet to hear what my kids are thankful for and yet I know that this week there has been much grumbling about what they will, or won’t, be getting this Christmas. I hear my husband and I say we are thankful for his job and how it provides for us, yet I know we both struggle with how tight things can be financially at times. It is hard this time of year to be thankful for what you have when, at the same time, we are constantly bombarded with Black Friday ads and hyped up about the newest and the best out there. Each year I swear I am not going to get sucked into it and so far, every year, I fail. I struggle with guilt over my kids disappointment. I struggle with my lack of self control in our budgeting. I get angry at stores and commercials and newspapers that can’t wait to open their doors til Friday. I am thankful for all I have…and sadly I am shown that in my own heart, it isn’t enough. I am thankful, but not content. Ouch.

 

Ya know what really bothers me? I KNOW BETTER. I have walked on the soil of a care point for orphans in Africa. I witnessed a mother sitting next to her dying child – a child who would have been treated and survived here in the states. I have served in shelters. We have visited nursing homes. We have supported crisis nurseries, missions that feed thousands of children around the world and many other things. I DO NOT NEED ANYTHING. And I still have the audacity to complain and be discontent about “things” when what I really should be discontent with is how many people don’t have anything and find ways to change that.

 

Tonight my mind has been brought back to a very unique experience we witnessed this year in Swaziland. On our last day at the care point, after all the games and food of “Fun Day,” the kids sang for us. They performed their special songs for Christmas time and danced and this special time ended up in a crescendo of worship. The meeting had ended, but the dancing and singing went on in complete abandon. Here in the middle of a tiny country, on a hill side, coming from a cramped blue building came thankfulness in its purest form – thankfulness for nothing else than knowing Jesus and believing in His promises. I so desire my gratitude to look like that. To know that when all else fades away – my joy, my gratitude, my contentment is not found in what I have or don’t have, but in Christ alone.

 

May your Thanksgiving be happy…may your heart (and mine) be content…in Christ alone.

 

 

 

Progress….not perfection November 7, 2012

I have shared that statement above many times. Today it made itself abundantly clear in my life right up there with two steps forward, twelve steps back. Yes twelve. When you have children added into regular projects, the steps back multiply. I’m gonna come right out and admit, I have been struggling this past week to keep just about everything in perspective. I blame it on the lack of sunshine and my default mode of lamenting. Plus the cold sore I am sporting on my bottom lip doesn’t help my mood or my concerns about my mid life appearance.

 

This morning I was woken up by our oldest around 5 AM – he had had a nightmare – a real one that he tearfully recounted as he crawled into bed next to me. After a bit he fell back asleep and I found myself shoved to the edge of the bed trying to get a piece of blanket to steal a few more moments of shut eye before the day began. Thankfully (insert sarcasm) my dog was nice enough to lick my face at 7:30 to let him out. I was up for the day at that point and I realized I was actually awake before all the kids! This is not normal around here and lasted for a whole 5 minutes! So much for that quiet start to the day! My kids wake up running at the mouth with questions that make my head spin most days – I can’t keep up with their neurons anymore. That five minutes gave me the edge today though – I was able to shoot down entertainment requests, game requests and excuses and get them focused on school rather quickly today. So far a step back, step forward, a bobble and then a full step! Not to bad before 10:00.

 

Then I woke my oldest who I let sleep in. We are dealing with the beginnings of pre-teen everything lately and I figured some extra sleep would be a good idea. I should have left him in bed. Many steps backward upon his arrival this morning at the table. Step forward? The others were relatively done with school work for the time being so they were sent off to occupy themselves which gave me some time to help reset oldest’s buttons and get back on track. Phew. He worked rather well today and didn’t complain much so that is a big step forward too. I got one more step up because we had left over soup for lunch so no thought required there today! Around that same time, a dear friend called to see if she could pick up my girls, and Jonah as to not leave anyone out, and take them to the indoor playground for a few hours!! I was so overwhelmed with gratitude – this offer put me ahead for the afternoon! Just me and the oldest here? Oh the possibilities of accomplishing something….endless! Off they went to have fun and I threw in a load of laundry and unloaded the dryer from three days ago. I was on to something.

 

For our co-op tomorrow, I had to cut 48 round, wooden bases for a project. We have plenty of wood available in this neighborhood so I visited our neighbors pile and plucked off a few good looking pine pieces and got to work. Yes, I used our miter saw, but what else do you want from me? I don’t do chainsaws. The oldest and I got to work slicing and stacking. All was well with the world. And then I broke the saw. Crappola. I have all my fingers thankfully. Cutting round logs that aren’t straight isn’t so easy after all. I am not strong enough, apparently, to hold the log and cut at the same time. The result of this is the saw sticking a bit too much and shooting a piece backwards while taking the guard out with it. I had only cut 31 of the pieces I needed. Minor panic sets in over how to complete this commitment and thankfully after a few phone calls I was rescued and problem solved. Almost even for the day again.

 

I’ll spare you the long version of the rest of the days events but they included the other three coming home, arguments/drama over who gets computer time first, second load of laundry in, youngest puncturing foot, dog eating youngest stuffed animal, dishes put away, dirty dishes put in dishwasher, younger boy in tears over losing game during computer time, an attempt to take a five minute nap (I was thinking???), walking into our downstairs bath and seeing our main line out of the house backed up into the tub again (see what getting ahead on laundry gets you?), no shower because of said back up, going to a nursing home to play games with people there tonight, got to meet a sweet elderly man, after stop at store to get one more thing for tomorrow, realizing in line we forgot to get the other thing we need, coming home to a quiet (thank you love) house and then sitting and wrapping duct tape around the fake chain links my oldest forgot he needed for co-op tomorrow. Back and forth, back and forth. I should be used to this dance by now.

 

I have to say….it is hard to look around here and feel good about much today. That is, if I am basing my value on my to do list. I feel like a gerbil in a wheel a lot of the time – running and running and running and never getting anywhere. Its then I have to ask myself where it is I think I’m supposed to be going? Half the time I don’t even know and yet I keep running. I keep thinking someday I will “arrive” and have the clean house I try to have, the obedient children I see in the movies (old ones anyway), the home school kids who are in college by the time they are 14 and a main line that doesn’t back up into my tub and if I’m not careful I buy into the lie that says, “I have no value because I can’t do it all, and do it perfectly.” Big step back.

 

Tonight I sat with Mr. Howard Grob. He told us about being part of WWII and showed us pictures of his grandchildren and great grand children. I watched his eyes as he talked of them, and of the war. I sat next to him while we played bingo with the other nursing home residents and watched his hands hold the chips and gently place them. After two games he had enough and was content to sit and watch me play my card and his. He nodded off a few times. He told me he used to play the violin. I told him how one of my favorite things to do as a kid was to listen to my grandma play the piano and my grandpa the harmonica and we would try to polka. He laughed at that. It was at that moment that my day didn’t matter anymore. He mattered. Speaking value to this man is what mattered. Showing my kids with me that old people are valuable mattered. Big step forward.

 

My tub is still full of water from the washing machine. I won’t be taking a shower tomorrow morning either. There are dishes in the sink. The floor is dirty. I’m behind on the laundry again because everyone got into pajamas tonight and filled up another basket to clean. I didn’t see my husband for more than ten minutes. I lost my temper with my kids more than once. Broke a saw. Its been a day. A day like yesterday, the day before yesterday and tomorrow will be similar too. I will always be doing the the dance – forward and back – sometimes one more than the other. I just need to remember that I’m still able to dance and that is what matters. Its all about progress…not perfection.

 

Upper management… October 20, 2012

Many times this week I have had this vision of a little cartoon guy flying a plane right at a mountain and then imagining the strength it takes to pull back on the stick to avoid crashing right into it. Teeth grinding, hands hanging on for dear life as the sweat rolls down and then suddenly able to release a big sigh as the crisis is averted. This, my friends, has been me this week. I was spoiled to have a kid free few days last week to get some much needed packing and de-cluttering going on the house we are hoping to eventually sell. It was so quiet during the day my ears almost hurt from the white noise. You can imagine the shock and awe of readjusting to four little people crashing back into my bubble of silence and having to get back on schedule with school and the like. Yikes…

 

When I look at what I put away in boxes in the garage already, I’m a bit surprised that we don’t miss any of it yet. Most of the stuff I went through were toys and clothes and lots of papers and books. No one has asked where “such and such” is. My kids have been perfectly happy with the small bin of Legos I left behind and the girls doll house stuff and a baby or two. I was happy to take several bags of stuff to good will or Salt and Light here in town. I still have to go through the kitchen and some other things, but overall it feels good to un-clutter.

 

A conversation I had late this week with our neighbor got me to thinking. We were talking about different ways we deal with our “stuff.” I’m a “piler.” In my book, pile people are the kind of people who don’t know what to do with stuff, so it gets piled up…everywhere. The truth is, I can tell you what is in almost any pile in my house. Right now there are no less than 5 piles in my sight line. My piles make my husband nuts…which brings us to the other kind of clutter dealer – the “hider.” The hider doesn’t know what to do with their stuff either, but instead of piling it up, they shove it in drawers, cabinets or closets. This is my husband. He doesn’t really care what is in a drawer as long as he can’t see the clutter, his world is happy. My neighbor and I got to talking about this a little more and we touched on the OCD thing and the rise in ADD – I have often joked that I could see myself ending up on that Hoarders show someday and I ended up saying something like, “Maybe we just weren’t meant to manage this much stuff.”

 

This week, in my thoughts I’ve taken it a step further – maybe we weren’t meant to manage stuff here at all. There isn’t a conversation that I have that doesn’t usually include the words busy, schedule, tired, overwhelmed or a synonym of them – myself included.  Yet we stay busy, have no margin, buy more stuff, complain about debt, eat more than we need to, complain we are overweight, buy more rubber maid containers to hold the junk we complain about organizing….something is amiss here wouldn’t you say?? I have four large free standing closets in my downstairs taking up space to hide the junk that I can’t stand picking up and managing. Something needs to change, but why is it so hard to do it?

 

I have been pondering this issue this last week and allowingGod to search my heart and show me where I am wrong with my “stuff.” I feel like what He has shown me is that far too often, I am still managing my life with out Him. I am not allowing the upper management to set the tone for my house – I am letting my kids with their desires and wants, I am letting myself with my tendency to make things more important than they should be and getting caught in the lie of needing stuff to be content. I’m letting other people make me feel bad because I don’t have as much as they do.

 

The more I pondered this whole thing, I was brought back to my time in Swaziland. If there is one thing I wholeheartedly enjoy there, its that there is not “stuff” everywhere. I have felt the same contentment when taking a simple walk through the woods or sitting by a fire in my backyard. Not feeling rushed or pressed or interrupted by the world and its stuff. When we are in Swaziland there is nothing to do but hang out, love on, play with and enjoy the kids and people. That’s it. And its enough. I already see how my kids are being sucked into advertisements and technology and all it has to offer in ways we never even had available when I was a kid. Now hear me, stuff isn’t bad in and of itself. I believe its what we allow stuff to do in our lives that gets tricky. I find it a bit weird that I have to make a conscious effort to make my kids go outside and play some days because of all the things that distract them. I am guilty myself of sitting in front of this screen far too often when I could be reading to my youngest, reading my Bible, sending a note to a friend on paper (gasp!) or any other productive thing.

 

When we are distracted by managing our stuff, we miss out on what we were really created for. We were created by God, for God. It really is that simple. It would be interesting to see how different life would be if we put this idea first instead of living in reverse. How much extra time would we have to enjoy others instead of running by with a quick “hello?” How big would our houses really need to be? How many families wouldn’t break up over money or careers or discontent? How many children could be fed around the world with the money we spend on our stuff? So many things to ponder….

 

Its tough to be simple in this world. Its tough to tell our kids no when the world screams at them to jump in and have everything. So many times I have felt guilty for telling our kids no and for making them be the weird one. But then there are moments like today when we take a walk as a family with our dog and I hear laughter and see their pink faces from running and I get to enjoy the feel of my husbands hand in mine as we breath fresh air and remember the reasons we are so blessed already.

 

I don’t think we were made to manage this much stuff…