Getting squeezed… May 2, 2012

I got squeezed today and it wasn’t very pleasant. Being “squeezed” here is from a metaphor we heard a while back at church. The idea:

 

When you squeeze a tube of toothpaste, toothpaste comes out. What comes out of you when you get squeezed?

 

Sometimes, I wish toothpaste would come out of me. It would be a better alternative, I think, to the nastiness that usually comes out. I have been having a hard time lately keeping my responses in check and my voice level in the nice range and it has been escalating this week. Today was one of those days that by the time Steve came home, I looked at him and said, “I want to quit.” I want to choose the easy way out. I don’t want to push back against the world right now. I don’t want to do what is right. I don’t want to be nice or extend grace. I don’t want to serve. I don’t want to home school anymore. I want to get a job to make more money, to fix our house, buy new stuff, have more margin, take more vacations, buy more take out. I wanted to quit.

 

Why? For no particular reason really. As usual, a bunch of small things stacked together with a few bigger things to finish me off at the end. I got squeezed and yuck came out all over the place. The biggest things that came out? Jealousy and self pity. Yep. Squeezed out and oozing all over the place. Jealous of? Other peoples stuff, life styles, my assumptions of their non-troubled existence. Self pity? Yep – I’m not a good mom cause my kids don’t listen. I’m not a good home-schooler cause my kids aren’t perfect students. I’m not a good wife cause I can’t keep my house in order or the laundry done. Not much new here. Same old self defeating thought life attacking again. So why wasn’t I able to overcome this stuff today? Who knows, but that’s where I was at this afternoon and still am a little bit now.

 

So now what? I have to admit, I’m having hard time talking myself out of this mood. Honestly, I like wallowing in self pity sometimes – it gives me an excuse to sit and do nothing. Sometimes its easier to accept defeat and lay down and die for a day. Not saying its the best thing, just easy to do. I want to not be like this, I want to not struggle. I want to be squeezed and have roses and fruit punch come out, but that’s not what I had in me today.

 

Steve said something to me tonight that I didn’t really appreciate at the time, but I needed to hear it. He said, “You’re messy like everyone else and, like we always say, that’s why we need Jesus.” Sometimes I forget that I am messy like everyone else and I NEED Jesus. I get stuck thinking that He’s a good idea or that I am farther along than I really am. When I get squeezed and I see what comes out, it reminds me that I need Him to change my heart, change my attitude, change my desires. How thankful I am that I have a friend in Jesus who knows my need, has experienced my troubles and promises to fill me with His Spirit. I am thankful that His mercy is new every morning. I am thankful that His grace is sufficient for me.

 

Today I lost the battle. I got squeezed and let the yuck ooze out. Tomorrow is a new day and I’m sure I’ll get squeezed again. Oh Jesus, let more of you come out in those moments!!

Strong women ASK for help… April 28, 2012

There seems to be a common theme working itself out in the lives of many of the women near and dear to me and in my own home these  days. It is that time of year when things start to come to a head for many of us – its the last push to finish co-ops, schooling, projects, plans for next year, commitments we have made, commitments we have to make and then add on top of normal life things sickness, unplanned events, planned events that are more than we planned for and you have a recipe for stress, lack of sleep, more stress, rushing around – pushing ourselves to the limit and living by the clock and calendar longing for a certain date to pass for some relief. I am right there, too.

 

The problem in all this isn’t that we can’t get it all done, eventually, or that we can’t survive – its that many of us fall into the lie that we have to do it alone. Recently, I got an email from a friend that began, “I feel silly even sending this….” and followed with a short list of struggles and asked for prayer. My first thought was, “I am so glad you reached out to let us know.” My second thought was, “Why do we always have to start emails or conversations like this with and apology?” I have done the same thing over and over. “Hi guys, sorry to bother you, but I’m drowning here and I was wondering if you had a minute to throw me a life preserver before I go under, but if you’re too busy, then don’t worry about it.” Why is so hard to ask for help?

 

My first thought is to blame the whole women’s lib movement and the message they have sent our generation that we can (and should) have it all and we should be able to do it all on our own and if you can’t, then you’re weak. But, then I am reminded that, at least in my world, I am part of a body of believers who are supposed to be sending a different message and I am forced to wonder why we don’t ask for help more often and why, when we build up the courage to ask, we apologize for needing to. Where did the idea come from that asking for help is a bad thing? I don’t have all the answers, but its something I want to keep thinking about and hopefully find ways to change.

 

My first thought in how to change is to start with myself. First off – if you are currently drowning in your life, will you please let me, or someone close to you that you trust, know it? Without apologizing? Cause let me tell you, you are not alone. I am craving a May 8th – by May 8th my life looks much more manageable. There isn’t something written on everyday of the week at that point and many of my responsibilities that require planning for others end. Big SIGH. Second, can we all agree that if someone comes to us and opens their life struggles box up we will respond with compassion, prayer and practical help? If you’re like me, when you open the box of struggle up to share, the best thing for you to do for me is listen, tell me I’m not nuts, and that this, too, shall pass. Put some wind back in my sails, remind me I’m not running this road alone. Speak truth to me – God’s truth – about what matters to Him, not the world.

 

As for me, I promise, if you dump your box of struggles on my lap, I will not call you incompetent, lazy, crazy, weak or a failure – because you’re not. You are dearly loved by the creator of the universe who knows you inside and out. He promised He won’t give you more than you can handle and He chose you for your current “assignments” to be used by Him and for Him for HIS glory. His strength is made perfect in your weakness and He will give you what you need to finish this leg of the race. You are beautiful to Him and He is waiting for you to refocus your fetching eyes on Him. He also gave us each other –  and an example to follow – Jesus didn’t tell the disciples the night He was arrested,”I’ve got this.” He asked them to stay near to Him, wait and pray. If Jesus can ask for help and support, so can we, and not be ashamed.

 

So can we all agree that when we are drowning in our own stuff, we will be brave to reach out before we are at the END of the rope, and be honest with our struggles? I promise I will and although it isn’t always easy, can we remember that strong women DO ask for help? Good.

 

Crying on fun day… April 8, 2012

Easter Sunday. One of my favorite days of the year and not just because of the jelly beans. Although, I must say, I have been really good about not buying any of those tasty, little, corn syrupy, artificially flavored ovals of yum. I digress. This is one of the first Easter weekends in a long time that I can remember being here at home actually on Easter Sunday. We have always done an egg hunt at our house with our neighbors and this year one family treated us all to a smoked meat feast with others adding in the sides. The sun was shining and the kids were having fun. At one point in the day, I came home to let our dog out and ended up lounging in the back yard for a bit and reflected on our weekend.

 

On Friday, we decided to go to church for our Good Friday service with the kids and brought one kid from the neighborhood with us. I would like to think that if the kids weren’t all there I would have been able to reflect more and maybe get into the solemn mood of remembering all that Christ endured that day. Betrayal, beatings, humiliation and, ultimately, His chosen death on a Roman cross leaving His followers confused and scared. We left the building in silence that night (well as silent as you can with 5 kids) and went on with our evening that included a stop at Baskin Robbins. I worked all day Saturday and was up part of last night with Emma and the dog and the cat who couldn’t get comfortable for whatever reason. I was so annoyed when my alarm went off this morning – I had offered to fill in as a greeter for the nursery at the early service. This wasn’t really how I wanted this weekend to go (does anyone else sense a pattern of this in my life?). I felt rushed, distracted, tired, cranky and guilty – the guilt coming from not feeling the way you’re “supposed” to feel on the day you celebrate someone rising from the dead. Oye.

 

Church was packed today, as it usually is on holidays like these, and I must admit, I love looking around and people watching. Steve and I settled in near the back and the music started. We said hello to those around us and started to sing. Admittedly, my heart was elsewhere at this point. Soon, Pastor Randy got up to speak and recounted Mary Magdalene at the tomb lost and weeping because the body of her Lord was missing only to soon be called by name by Jesus and experiencing the joy and shock of Him standing before her. I must admit, one thing I love about Jesus is His absolute care and inclusion of women. Mary was the first person to see the risen Christ and tell the news to others. This picture of Jesus always moves my heart and it got me to thinking of the times He has spoken my name in the midst of despair, sadness, anger, depression…and how utterly wonderful it is to hear.

As I was thinking today, I was reminded of the end of my trip to  Swaziland. I don’t know if I have shared this before, but the whole time we were in Africa to this point, I hadn’t shed a tear. Frankly, I was beginning to wonder what was wrong with me. Is my heart really this hard? I am surrounded by parent-less children in the middle of no where and being bombarded with one hard situation after another and there are no tears. I am the only one on the team to not shed a tear yet. What is up with that? I am not an easy crier in any sense of the word, but come on. I had nothing…Until… Fun Day.

 

What is Fun Day? Its the last full day we get to spend with the kids and its an all out day of play – bounce house, soccer games, parachute games, games we don’t know the rules too, but play anyway, special food and desserts, extra candy to take home, extra fruit to take home – its a FUN day. It is also the last day we get to speak to them and summarize what we’ve been doing all week. So after the singing, our trip leader, Don, stands up front and begins speaking to the kids and it is at this moment that the whole trip came together for me. The words we had been sharing of God’s love and value for these children and the plans God has for them rang so loud in my ears it made my heart hurt because I began to understand these words were also for me. Through His word in the book of Ephesians, the Lord spoke so clearly to me that my heart overflowed with gratitude and humility and my eyes couldn’t hold back the tears of absolute joy that were bubbling up in them. I had to turn and walk away- literally.  I mean seriously – who cries on Fun Day?? Apparently, I do.

 

The same thing happened this morning in worship. Once again through His word that our pastor was sharing, my heart was moved and tears of joy began to drip down  my cheeks and my heart overflowed with gratitude. It was in this moment that I began to realize why tears do not come easily from this gal over the hard stuff. Sadly, I expect the worst from this world we live in. I expect sadness, despair, hurt, selfishness, anger, loss, pain, suffering, death. I guess when I see it, I’m not surprised enough to have it touch my heart in that way. Tears come from me for another reason. Tears come for me on Fun Day and Easter because of hope. Jesus gives me hope. Hope that there will come a day when children aren’t alone, abused, starved, murdered, sold, beaten and treated as belongings. Hope that there will come a day when pain, suffering, loss, despair, suffering and, yes, death will be overcome. Hope that what we see in front of us isn’t all there is. It is in this my heart is moved by God that the tears begin to flow. Tears of surrender, tears of joy, tears of gratitude. In these moments, I am brought to a place where there is hope of all things being made right and pure again…and this is what gets my tears rolling.

 

As I was thinking today, I remembered I wrote sometime last year that my daughter has never seen my cry. I was reminded, and will have to remind her too, that this isn’t entirely true. She hasn’t seen me cry tears of sorrow or despair maybe, but I know she has seen my eyes brim with tears of joy, gratitude….of hope. Many times my kids have said to me,”Mom, are you gonna cry again?” in the middle of something joyful. “Yep – mom’s gonna cry tears of joy again and again and again.  Get me a tissue.” With eye rolls the box gets handed over…

 

So as I sit here tonight, I have to say, maybe there isn’t anything wrong with me after all. I cried on Fun Day…I hope I get to again this year!

 

 

Its not about winning…until you’re losing. March 31, 2012

It has been a crazy week here. This is not unusual, but coming off of spring break made it a little harder this week to keep the plates spinning. We finished out our business this morning with our Cub Scout Pinewood Derby. All four kids made cars this year – Caleb races with his den and then the siblings have their own race after the pack is done. Let’s just say we didn’t do as well as we were hoping and sadly, this is never a good place for us to be. Our kids – and I know its not just ours – have a hard time when pitted against their friends and they lose. Instant hammer whack to the value meter. “My car sucks, therefore, I must also suck.”

 

We try to smooth it over and refocus their attention. We talk about how its supposed to be about the fun and that making the cars is the best part. We joke with others about character building and “there’s always next year.” But, deep down, I know my kids are struggling with something they can’t really verbalize yet – trying to figure out where their value comes from and at that moment, the world is telling them they don’t have any because their little wooden car didn’t cut it today. That’s a tough thing to chew on.

 

Everyday we are all faced with the same problem and the world around us is happy to give us a non-sugar coated answer depending on our circumstances…You got a promotion – you’re great! You’re getting a divorce – you’re a loser! You drive a nice expensive car – you, my friend, are going places! You lost your job – no surprise there because you weren’t anything much to start with. The roller coaster of validation. Its amazing to me how it can trickle down, or maybe I should say up, too. This morning for their sake, I was upbeat and nonchalant, but as the day went on and I stopped to think about how things went, I began to struggle with my value too! The funnier part is I didn’t even have anything to do with making the cars – yet somehow I was convincing myself that I must have had a part in their failure. Wow – talk about getting sucked into a flat out lie. I was about ready to hinge this entire day on four little blocks of wood and 16 plastic wheels.

 

But, in the back of my mind, as usual, a song lyric was softly playing:

 

In Christ alone my hope is found,
He is my light, my strength, my song;
this Cornerstone, this solid Ground,
firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace,
when fears are stilled, when strivings cease!
My Comforter, my All in All,
here in the love of Christ I stand.

I was reminded again that this world is not my home and what it says about me isn’t true. What is true and what is right is what Jesus says about me. I was reminded that He is the only sure thing. He never changes. His love for me never changes. I have value because He says I do. The world is fickle and ever changing its standards – why would I ever want to depend on it? It has never given me peace, joy, love, grace, comfort, strength, rest, truth, promises, hope. I have felt these things in experiences here, but not because the world has given them to me. It is because I can find these things in the world because of Jesus. My heart longs for a day for myself, and my kids, when it won’t matter that your pinewood derby car doesn’t do what you want. I long for disappointment to be done away with and comparisons to go by the way side because the only thing that will matter is that I am home with my Jesus.

Jesus is the only thing I know I can cling to in the world because He doesn’t change. He is the only one offering solid ground to stand on. In Him, the world’s opinion ceases to matter. As Easter approaches and I begin to ponder His life, death, burial and resurrection, I am humbled again at the cost it was to Him to give me value. I am a redeemed reject because He endured the cross for me. I don’t have to run on the world’s treadmill because He pulled the plug once and for all. My kids don’t have to grow up wondering if they were made wrong because He assures them that He makes no mistakes. He has a plan and purpose for each of them and apparently its not to be Pinewood Derby champs right now. He offers the same to each and everyone of us.

 No guilt in life, no fear in death,
This is the power of Christ in me;
From life’s first cry to final breath.
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns or calls me home,
Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand.

Letting the cat out of the bag… March 25, 2012

Ahem…I  have an announcement to make…on July 24th, 2012 I will be, hopefully, boarding a plane destined for Africa again. Even as I write that sentence I can almost hear all the various responses you all might be having. Some are excited, some are aghast, some clapped, some of you eye rolled, some have tears in there eyes, some a frown. I know this because I have spent the last few months wrestling with how others are going to take this news and many other aspects of this decision. For my own sake, and maybe yours, I want to spend a little time sharing my thought process regarding this trip.

 

What the heck am I thinking going back? Didn’t I get it out of my system last year? Am I pushing my luck as far as safety? Isn’t it a bit selfish? What about my own kids and husband? Will it really make a difference to go again? Isn’t it someone else’s turn? What about the money? Nope – haven’t been wrestling with this decision at all. These aren’t even half of the things I’ve had running through my mind. The truth is that sometimes I have really good answers to these questions and other times I have talked myself out of going. I have a hard time making decisions on my own about the big things, or what seem like big things. I can change my mind every other sentence. I can over think just about anything. I can over complicate loading the dishwasher. I am a recovering people pleaser – I like to be liked. I eat platefuls of mom-guilt for dinner and wash it down with would have, could have, should have for dessert.

 

So what have I been wrestling with? Read on dear friend…

 

The safety thing…I think this is more of an issue for others than me – and I totally understand the concern. I, however, don’t really have a problem with this road block. I can die going to the grocery store on a Tuesday afternoon or walking the dog. I am a firm believer in God’s word that says I’m not going anywhere until He says its my turn. Does that mean I don’t get a little nervous about all the travel and being in a remote village in a third world country? Nope – cause I do. It means that I am not going to NOT do something out of fear of what could happen. Its a trust thing – if God says He has my back and has plans for me then I’m running with them where ever He leads and trusting He will work it all out.

 

The money thing…yep – its expensive to do this and its hard to ask for help. This year we are doing some different things to expand our fund raising opportunities. Yes – there will be a letter explaining again what we are doing and asking for financial help. But there will also be garage sales, plant sales, book sales, an auction and a few other things that have popped up in the works. The vision for this care point and these kids isn’t a rescue mission – its a partnership. We will always be finding ways to help them with resources. We go to encourage them because no one else does. Its expensive, but again, God speaks to our financial concerns – He says He owns the cattle on a thousand hills. I believe everything we have – EVERYTHING – is from Him – including the job He provided my husband to put food on our table and a roof over our heads. He gives it and He can take it away. Its His and if He wants me to go, He will provide a way. The fundraising for this trip has come in differently every year and to me that’s a faith building thing. Its a humbling experience to ask for help, but its an incredible thing to watch God work and leave it in His court.

 

The mom guilt and feeling selfish…As I have pondered this more, I have started to unravel a lot of the lies I believe about what I am doing. Why do we sensationalize a mission trip to Africa? After all, there are many mom’s who pursue careers, travel for their jobs, have hobbies that take them away for periods of time and yet, because I want to devote two weeks of a year to a mission trip I must be crazy? Actually, I think not. Like many of my friends, I have chosen a life of being an at home mom who has also taken on the challenge of schooling them. I spend more time with my kids during a year than anyone else does. I eat, sleep and breathe them so when I consider two weeks away, it really isn’t a lot.  It is an example I want to set for them, not time I want to selfishly take for just me. I want their world view to be larger than the American Dream. I want them to be world changers and to follow God where ever He leads. I want to set an example of reaching across boundaries and lifting others up. Couldn’t I do that by staying here? Yep – and we try to. This passion I have for this group of kids across the ocean has been put in me and trust me, life would seem easier if I ignored it. Being involved in this takes time, energy and more time that I already feel is limited. Yet, every time I look at the faces of these young ones, I cannot walk away. Truth is, I can’t fully explain it all. When it all boils down, its obedience – saying yes to what I feel God has asked of me and walking with Him through it and trusting that I am not screwing up my kids in the process.

 

So how did I finally resolve it all? The same way I did last year – I asked my husband what he thought. He said I should go. Problem solved. God knows me better than I know myself and was gracious enough to pair me with a man who can make a decision in half a second and leave out all the bull. Sometimes it drives me nuts, but at times like this, I am so thankful for this part of his personality. If he said not to go, I wouldn’t. But, he says go – so now I have the freedom to do so. I know I can trust his response because he watches me struggle with these issues. He knows I tend to over think things. He knows I default easily to people pleasing and doubt. I am so thankful for his willingness to let me go with his blessing and for his ability to simplify a decision.

 

The cat is out of the bag. I’m re-enlisting…not that I’ve ever really gotten out. Look out Africa – I’m coming back! Yeehaw!

“Do you have chains?!” March 23, 2012

Tonight our house is full again. Steve and I were able to enjoy about 4 days of not being parents thanks to some of our family hosting our kiddos this past week. What an amazing breath of fresh air this was for Steve and I. I ran the dishwasher once. I didn’t do any laundry. I didn’t look at the clock or rush home from anything. We cleaned out our entire garage and storage/laundry area. We took in too many bags of donations to count and kept some back for the garage sale we are hosting as a fund raiser again this year. We walked at least 6 or 7 miles with the dog. We ate out – albeit too much – but I didn’t use one pan and it felt great. So thankful for the break!

One day this week, we decided to take our dog to a different forest preserve here in Mahomet that we don’t go to very often. The trails aren’t paved and the “lakes” are old, filled in strip mining pits. We thought the dog would like to swim and we were right. It was so sunny and hot that I got my first little sunburn of the year! On the way out of the preserve, I was behind a red pick up that seemed like it couldn’t decide where to go (left or straight) and kept hesitating. When it moved enough for me to see around it, I noticed a little farther down the road there were two teenage boys waving their arms. We thought they must be together because the truck finally decided to go towards them. As I followed the same direction, I saw what the arm waving was about. Off the road to the right was an upside-down car. Oops.

One of the boys came up to the window of our car and blurts out, “Do you have any chains?!” Ummm…nope.  ”Honey, you don’t need chains. You need a tow truck.” I replied. After making sure both boys were okay,    more of the story started to come out. “I’m not even supposed to be out here.” I look at the car and see the temporary tag in the plate box. “I know we can flip the car back over! I’ll just need to fix the tail light!” Dear, sweet boy, you rolled your car off the road into a bunch of bushes. Its a little more complicated than that. “I can’t call my dad – he’s gonna kill me. I can just go ask the guys at the quarry to help me.” Oh boy…time to get real son.

This went on for about three minutes all the time Steve and I interjecting reason and calm. “Honey, I don’t know you, and yes, your dad is going to be madder than you know what, but the bottom line is you are okay and that is what matters.” Steve chimes in,”I’ve been where you are – up a creek and I know it seems like its the end of the world, but over time it will get better.” I reiterate,”You really do need a tow truck. Please do not go back in that car (even though you just realized your phone is still in it) and just accept the fact that for today, you are so dead, but doing something stupid isn’t going to help.” Thankfully, his buddy kept a little clearer head and agreed with us and called his own dad to come out and help them.

Finally, this young boy, who was out trying to be a man, tossed his sunglasses down on the side of the road, flopped himself down beside them, put his head in his hands and started to cry. I can almost see the thoughts going through his head. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. We were just going to take the car out for a few minutes. No one was supposed to know!” Its like the car sat opposite and mocked him with all four tires in the air. I felt for this kid. How many times have I found myself in this place looking at the destruction in front of me saying, “This wasn’t supposed to happen!” A careless word that flew out of my mouth and began a spiral of hurt. A selfish decision that alienates loved ones. A burst of anger directed at an unsuspecting small one who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Many times I have found myself figuratively where this kid was now – flopped on the side of the road resigned to the consequences of a single bad choice that wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.

Oh to think back to being a teenager, and a stupid one many times. Even still, to look at being a 37 year old wife and mom and see how many moments in my life I still need mercy in the midst of the consequences of poor choices. Blech. In hind sight, I almost wish I would have gotten out of my van and sat down next to this young man and put my arms around him and let him cry like a baby. I wish I would have taken the time to talk to him about God’s mercy and love for him that is greater than any upside-down car trouble we have in this life. I wanted to make sure he understood that when he was my age, he would see this day differently, but I also know that when you’re 16, you can’t see much beyond the end of your face.

After we made sure his buddy’s dad was really coming and that both boys were really okay, we decided to head home. As I have been chewing on this scene the last few days, I have prayed that this young man’s dad would be merciful. From where I was looking on, I really don’t think a screaming parent would have added much more to what he had already learned sitting on the side of the road. I told Steve that there was one thing that kept bothering me and I keep wondering about – this boy was adamant about not calling his father. I wondered what had happened in their relationship over the years, or maybe what hadn’t happened to make him feel this way. Truth is, if this was my son, I would want to be the first person he would call even knowing I wouldn’t be too excited about the news. Maybe this other dad felt that way too, but for some reason that hadn’t been communicated. Who knows? It has motivated me to look at my relationships with my own kids to make sure that they can feel safe running to me even when they have screwed up in huge ways. I want them to understand mercy and consequences and that they can co-exist.

If this was my son, I guarantee you wouldn’t see him driving around town for quite a while, unless it was with me. He would also be spending his weekends working off the insurance deductible. Consequences. He would also, however, have it drilled into him how much I love him, how his actions don’t change that, and that home is a safe place to be a screw up. After all, as much as I’d like to hide it, I’m a screw up, too. A screw up who was shown mercy and love enough to get me through the consequences. Thank you, Jesus.

Reading between the lines… February 28, 2012

Tuesday is an early morning at our house – its “long co-op day” as the kids put it. Not to be confused with Thursday which is “short co-op day.” Either way, alarm goes off at 6:45 so I can drag my sorry tail out of bed by 7 to get in the shower. Kids are woken up in order from oldest to youngest after the shower is over, after I get dressed, while I’m eating breakfast and the final “GET OUT OF BED NOW!” delivered shortly there after. There is a flurry of bodies running here and there getting dressed, brushing teeth and hair, grabbing bags and books and, my favorite part, the squishing of all our stuff and persons into our 4×6 foyer struggling to get shoes on and out the door without hurting each other.

 

This morning was no different, except for the first time in a long time, I stopped and took a second look at what I saw in the mirror. I don’t do this very often – mostly because I’m not as vain as I used to be and to me, there isn’t much to see anyway. I happened to squint while drying my hair today and could not ignore the crows feet that erupted from the sides of my eyes. “My goodness – when did those get so long and deep?” This of course led to a minor inspection of the rest of my face. The crease between my eyebrows that runs north and south, the smile lines, the frown lines…I couldn’t find the cheekbones I had when I was younger – I think they are hiding under the less elastic, fuller skin I am sporting these days. My eyes look tired and I seem to have inherited a touch of my grandma’s under the eye circles.  I’ll stop there with the details because this minor face inspection turned into a full out “oh my, oh dear and oh don’t even go there” type of conversation with myself.

 

This little self talk is coming on the heels of about six weeks of pain like I haven’t experienced before, too. To make a long story short, I’m to the point of being back at the chiropractor wondering if I have a herniated disk or not. I’ve had abdominal pain, leg pain, back pain – even foot pain that seems to have traced itself back to two rather small movements (getting out of bed and doing a lunge) that tore my lumbar region apart. Five days ago, I couldn’t get my left leg up the stairs. Several times I’ve looked at my dear husband and said, “I’m only 37! What the heck is wrong with me?!” So I’ve been stretching and massaging and applying my new favorite product “BioFreeze” to any ache I can reach. All the while realizing that summer will be here before I know it and all that getting in shape I had planned hasn’t happened again. So I reach for my old stand by, comfy jeans, even though there is a slight stain on the thigh, because I figure that’s better than cramming myself into the other pairs that have just come out of the dryer…

 

Off to co-op we go and even though I am engrossed with teaching kids and chatting with friends, these thoughts above still nag at me. I try to remember to stand up straighter, tighten any muscle that will obey, keep my head up, smile – but not to big, stop furrowing the brow (which is hard to do when you are being told by one of your students that photosynthesis is boring.)  Somewhere along the line, this body has been taken through the ringer and just isn’t the same as it was and sadly some days – this is a struggle for me. Women and girls are bombarded for most of life with images of the worlds expectations and try as we may to ignore them – they are still there. It isn’t that we don’t understand that the goals presented by the 16 year old on the cover of Cosmo are unrealistic, its that they are considered a goal at all – and I know better! Yet, here I am, wondering if a little wrinkle cream wouldn’t be a good idea and telling myself I really need to stop having that snack before bed.

 

Yet, thankfully, through all the noise in my head, I am reminded by my God that I am just as I should be. All those lines on my face are not a punishment; I’ve earned them through countless sleepless nights rocking babies to sleep and comforting sick toddlers. I’ve earned them through hours of joyous laughter and tickling wars, silly games and funny comments. I’ve earned them while trying to discern the best course of discipline and the right balance of mercy. The lines that I see are a reminder of God’s goodness to me through the blessings of my family. I won’t ever look like I did on my wedding day, yet I have a husband who tells me I am more beautiful to him now than ever before. I have children who climb all over me and mush my cheeks together to hear me say “chubby bunny” til they are red in the face from laughing.  I am reminded that this semi-broken, wrinkle prone, not so toned anymore container I live in is temporary and there will be a day when I will be free from it. I am reminded that when I chose Christ, He made me a new creation where it matters – He took my wrinkled, broken heart and gave me a new one that beats for Him and I wouldn’t give that up for all the wrinkle cream and cosmetic surgery in the world.

 

Another reminder that we are in the world, but don’t need to be of it. I’ll stick to my guns of growing old the old fashioned way and for those who choose to read through the lines on my face, they will find a plethora of tales to choose from. I hope I live to be old and really wrinkly to be able to share them all!

 

 

If you can’t beat em… February 6, 2012

Today has been a relatively crappy day here at the K house. After a weekend of celebrating birthdays and our churches annual Super Bowl Party we are one sleep needy group. If your house is anything like mine, sleep needy little people and big people just aren’t a good combination. This morning began with quite a bit of snipping at one another and minor whining tantrums about the days work to be done. This I am used to and it usually subsides after breakfast and the day moves on. Not today!

 

It seemed like every time I turned around, there were new complaints, arguments, tears, frustrations, battles, and at times out right defiance. I got sucked right into the drama today too. I always hate it when that happens. Several times today I found myself inches from one of my kids faces dishing out my own version of the above with finger wagging, tearing down, guilt tripping, power playing, and a few times raising my voice way above “stern.” I feel so defeated when I take this road. I always  say trying to salvage a day like this is like trying to turn the Titanic around on a beach. There just didn’t seem to be a reset button big enough for today.

 

I had to work this afternoon too – thankfully just cleaning. I don’t know if I could have slapped my fake smile on today for the students I teach at gymnastics. I just didn’t have it in me. At the very least I was hoping to work out some stress while mopping, wiping, vacuuming and sanitizing the gym. I was sweating within the first fifteen minutes after filling my mop bucket and the kids had some how “miraculously” found the energy they were lacking at home to jump rope, run around, jump on the trampoline, chase one another and climb all over the place. Interesting…apparently doing a page of math takes more energy than all that. Smirk.

 

I honestly began to think that maybe this is what we needed – a break from each other and to blow off some steam. Moods seemed to be improving a little and I was feeling good about the work I was doing. Then the screaming began. Not fighting screaming – hair standing up on the back of your neck screaming. From the bathroom. It was Emma. I was close enough to hear her, but Caleb was right by the bathroom so I yelled for him to see what was wrong. In he went and just as fast came back out, “There’s blood everywhere!” Drop mop, trot across mats to find out what is going on. He wasn’t kidding. I found Emma in a puddle of blood and as I looked at her face, it was pouring out of her  mouth and nose. What is it with this child and blood always spilling out!? While everyone else freaked out, I, thankfully, knew exactly what was going on. Nosebleed – just like I used to get when I was a kid. A few calming words, some toilet paper up the nose, a lot of wiping with a towel and a friends willingness to mop up the blood while I cleaned her up made everything okay.

 

This seemed to refocus everyone and their attitudes for a bit…until we got in the car to go home. I couldn’t believe it – I hadn’t even backed out of my spot and they were all on each other again and it lasted all the way home. It was to the point that it didn’t matter what I said anymore – everyone was out for them self and common sense was no where to be found, much less grace. Again – feeling defeated – I retreated to the corner of my brain I hide in and called my husband to let him know I wasn’t going to stop at the store on the way home – I just couldn’t fight anymore and the last thing I was going to do was go to the store to open up a whole new option for opposition.

 

I tend to get quiet when I feel this way. My kids know it too and they usually start performing at this point. They can’t stand my silence. I just wanted to make the sloppy joe’s I had planned for dinner, eat and get out to the store to get what I didn’t get earlier. Then like a well oiled machine, they begin plotting a fancy dinner night again. Jonah shows up in a dress shirt (plaid) and tie (spotted) with one dress shoe. Zoe follows soon after in a sparkly red number with her hair pulled up. Emma shows up in blue. The table is being set without me asking. The candles appear. I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of dressing up tonight. Not after all they pulled today. I’m happy in my sweats right now thank you very much and don’t expect me to get all giddy about this idea – not this time.

 

Dinner finally on the table, a prayer of thanks and these little monsters all of a sudden turn into well mannered, polite children who you would think were fond of one another. I was almost indignant. Who are these people at the table? Where were they earlier today? Please and thank you for the ketchup bottle? What!!?? As I sat there watching and eating, I began to soften a bit. There was laughter and lots of it. There were some inside joke/family stories told. More laughter. Of course, no nice dinner would be complete without Jonah showing us his more than amazing “arm fart” ability followed by a retort from dad, “Now come on. Let’s have some…

“BBBBUUUUURRRRRPPPPP!”

“Manners?”

There is silence in the candle light as all eyes dart from Jonah to the guilty party. “Oh, excuse me,” I say. There is louder laughter than even before and this time I join in. I had finally decided it wasn’t worth it anymore. I was done fighting back and wanted to be a part of this crazy group again. It was time to grow up and stop pouting.

 

Sometimes I have to be reminded that life here is messy. I’m messy. I wish I had it all together everyday, but I just don’t. I can’t live up to the Martha Stewart’s of the world and I hate that I want to. I get tired. I get upset. I get angry. I wish my kids would be different. I wish my dog would train himself. Ugh….there is ALWAYS something to attend to around here. I wish I could have said that this morning I had the self control to help steer my kids through feeling yucky and the wisdom to pull back and take my to do list slower. But, I chose to be angry and controlling and demanding. I was the clanging gong in 1st Corinthians 13.

 

I spent most of my day today frustrated and feeling like I was dragging a cement block up a mountain. I should know better that a day is better spent learning to love one another where we are at with extra heaps of grace instead of barking at everyone how they “should” be. Ugh. Next time I’ll have to remember that burping thing at breakfast…it may just be enough to save the day!

Do as I Do, But Not Really… January 29, 2012

Houston? We have a problem and I just went a little crazy on everyone about it. What’s the problem???

STUFF…too much stuff.

Toys, clothes, books, pens, toothbrushes….you name it, lately it seems to be leaking out of its assigned spot and oozing across the floor. I spent 20 minutes looking for our dog leash tonight and found it sandwiched between a bunch of blankets. We have too many of those too – blankets – not dog leashes. I couldn’t find a matching pair of shoes today – at least not the ones I wanted and I know I put them away the last time I wore them. So what is happening??? I’m realizing that I have done a very poor job of teaching my kids the golden rule of “if you take it out, put it back.” Or at the very least, they are ignoring it. Example one of many I could give – I watched a certain child’s pile of clothes in the bathroom sit for three days – 3 DAYS – knowing that I had asked that certain child more than once to get them out of there. Sometimes I think they are trying to make me crazy and all too often succeeding.

So what to do, what to do??? My gut reaction is to raise my voice and remind everyone that they are slobs and that if it doesn’t get picked up, put away or thrown away, its going to go away….forever. So now that I have at least one daughter in tears and the others running to hide and protect their precious stuffed animals from my almighty garbage bag, I can take a step back and be a bit more rational. Truth is, I want to blame it on the kids because that’s the easy thing to do. But then in my heart I hear a still small voice again reminding me that they are children who will, most of the time, act like children. Then one step further – they will act like YOUR children. Ouch.

So let me confess something here…guess who doesn’t hang up her clothes when she changes her mind about what she wants to wear in the morning? Guess who doesn’t put the yogurt container back in the refrigerator? Guess who walks by several scraps of paper a day, lego pieces by the hour and towels on the floor? Guess who’s desk is the messiest? Guess who’s kids see that stuff everyday and then have a mom who wants them to “do as she says, not as she does?”  We hear it all the time in various ways – that old saying that children learn by example more than anything else and when I catch my own bad habits in my kids it makes me want to kick something. Sadly, its usually them I want to kick right in their cute little behinds when I should be kicking my own. Oh, humility, how I have missed you since ten minutes ago.

This is something I want to pay attention to this year – setting an example of the habits I want my kids to develop and it goes way beyond tidying up. I want to have more than good intentions with my kids and make the most of the time I have with them. I’m not talking perfection or checklists, but character. I don’t want my kids to have to be confused about what I say and what they see and when I am honest with myself, many times they don’t match up. It easy to make excuses too – trust me – I’m good at them.

So, I guess for  me it means either not changing my mind about what I am wearing or taking the extra ten seconds to put it back on a hanger. It means physically bending over to pick up the things I see on the floor, not just acknowledging that they are annoying. It means, much to Steve’s delight, putting stuff  back in the fridge or cabinets before I walk away. It means, and I hate to put this in writing, putting laundry away right after its folded. It all sounds so simple and straightforward doesn’t it? I wish it were for me. I hate that I struggle with this stuff – I’m a mom after all. Doesn’t that mean that I should be good at these kinds of things automatically? Did I miss that day in our pre-natal classes? Oh how I wish I could blame something or someone else for my shortcomings here….but, at the end of it all, its just me not wanting to change. Well, poop. Now what?

I guess I will have to be content that tomorrow is a new day and with it opportunities to choose to do what I know is right, just like I ask my kids to do. Houston? That’s one small step for this gal, and one giant leap of faith!

Momentum…or lack there of. January 26, 2012

I have had a few people email or say to me lately, “You’ve been a little quiet lately…everything okay?” Yep – for the most part thankfully. I have been quiet lately and I’m not really sure why. I know the last time I wrote was back before Christmas and about the same time something happened – I lost momentum. The holidays came, travel ensued, time off from schooling/co-ops, Steve was home, we welcomed the new year, coughing and other ailments came by, school started up again….and I lost momentum. I have three saved attempted posts in my draft folder I never got back to and each time I have had a moment to sit down and write, the words just haven’t been there. They don’t feel like they are here today either. But, I am forcing myself to write something to try and gain back my momentum.

I have a hard time with things like this – starting, stopping and starting over. There is a sense of defeat that needs to be overcome for me. I have the same trouble with cleaning up my house, keeping up with the laundry, schooling the kids….eventually no matter how well I am clicking along in any area, obstacles start popping up and I have the darnedest time getting going again. I used to think it was an “I am overwhelmed” issue, but I am beginning to realize its a “why bother to start/try when failure is inevitable” issue. There is something defeating about never feeling like I finish anything. Lost momentum.

Last night we celebrated Emma’s 4th birthday. We ended the day watching family videos together of the day she was born and our other kids meeting her for the first time and then snippets from the next few years. We had some good laughs looking back and it was a much needed reminder for me that perfection isn’t a good goal to have and progress is possible and we have made progress. I was encouraged to see that there were genuine moments of joy and tenderness between our kids and traditions that we really have established. Its so easy to lose sight of the good stuff in the midst of the mundane. I needed that reminder yesterday.

 

Today we are celebrating our oldest’s birthday. Caleb is a decade old and I am having a hard time believing it. I have been a mom for 10 years – long enough to have trouble remembering what our lives were like before all these ragamuffins came to be with us. I am humbled as I think about how God has used my kids to refine me, teach me, challenge me, humble me…and above all else – draw me closer to Himself.

 

So today, I will try to gain back some momentum again. The washer and dryer are already humming away. I found the floor in the basement (again) and will soon tackle the dishes I’ve been ignoring. I need to finish updating my syllabus for the Botany class I’m teaching, send out invite emails for the kids parties next week and reschedule dentist appointments. Other things will add themselves to the list like they do everyday. But today I choose to not be undone. I choose to be thankful and grateful for the four little, or maybe not so little anymore, reasons I never finish anything.

 

Off to the dishes!