Hello.
I know I have been quiet for awhile. I don't really know if I am back in this space yet, but today something felt right so I am going to post.
Over the past few months of silence I have been learning a lot. New things about myself, my marriage, my family and new things about God. I am not really sure yet what all of that means, but I am learning that life is not static and I have to be able to change with the tides and the seasons. Easier said then done.
This week I am learning how to watch cars. Not something I would ever have put on my list of top 100 things to do, but something that motherhood has placed before me. My 17 month old son has decided that cars are the coolest things on the planet and he wants us to stare out the window together in anticipation of a car driving by. Now, cars don't actually drive down our road too often which leads to this game being very boring for me. Yes, for me. My son has much more patience for this game then I do and he could stare out the window for long stretches of time, while I try to slyly pull out the IPad and surf the internet, hoping he won't notice that my attention is elsewhere. After being caught a few times and my attention demanded back to the empty road, I realized that the fun of car watching is not just the excitement he feels when a car drives by, it is the joy of being engaged with me in an activity that brings him so much pleasure. My attention is apparently part of the game.
So, I am learning how to watch cars. And also how to watch without any cars actually appearing, which is the more difficult task for me. But something worth learning because it brings so much joy to someone I love so much. And I guess in this season of life I am learning to worry less about how many cars I see and worry more about who I am watching cars with and being present in that moment, that connection with another human being.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Deep
A drink of water after thirsty days
A swallow that fills your soul
reaching within for forgotten dreams
the way that life unfolds
Finding grace in graceless times
a stretch to hope at night
the blue of sky after rain has come
a point of dark in light
A glimpse, a thought, a moment lost
the need to create anew
Memories of past thats raw
the word of life and truth
Who I am, who I was
what I was made to be
seeking, finding, answering
too deep for me to see
A swallow that fills your soul
reaching within for forgotten dreams
the way that life unfolds
Finding grace in graceless times
a stretch to hope at night
the blue of sky after rain has come
a point of dark in light
A glimpse, a thought, a moment lost
the need to create anew
Memories of past thats raw
the word of life and truth
Who I am, who I was
what I was made to be
seeking, finding, answering
too deep for me to see
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Being Thankful Part 1
I thought I should take some time for the next few days to focus on being thankful and really dig into the parts of my life where I struggle to find anything worth being thankful about. So, my challenge to myself for the next three days is to think of something in my life that I am viewing as a negative right now and discover a reason to be thankful.
The first thing that comes to my mind is an ongoing family situation that has caused a lot of pain and stress over the last two months. Without going into too much detail, lets just say that it is impossible at this point in the process to be thankful for what has happened in my family. But as I reflect back on the many visits, emails and conversations that have filled these anxious weeks I can see a bright spot if I really search for it. I am exceedingly thankful for my mother.
Growing up I always thought I was more like my father, and I have so many memories of all the effort I put into my relationship with him. Because my mom was home full-time and homeschooled us, my memories of her during my childhood are not filled with the same intensity, she was just a peaceful constant. Now since getting married, moving away and having a son I am seeing more and more of my mother in me and unlike the way it is portrayed in movies and TV, I have no dread of being like my mother.
I remember her buying me groceries on the day I moved out, driving out to be with me in the middle of the night after a tough break up, coming to check up on me when I was sick. She was the one I couldn't wait to have arrive after the birth of my son and despite the distance the separates us I know she would come at a moments notice if I needed her.
Witnessing her struggle through this difficult time in my family I have discovered a new depth to my mother. I have seen more strength of character, more stubbornness of will, more honesty, more faith and reliance on God, more unconditional love then I ever expected to find in anyone. She is not perfect and I do not know why God has chosen to grow her in such a radical way, but as I watch her wade through a dark place in life I am convicted and challenged and thankful. I am thankful that God is breaking the waves for my mother, thankful that in the midst of all this change she is the person I have always known her to be, thankful that she is broken but not destroyed. Perhaps the greatest blessing God bestowed on my family is my mother, and for that I can say "thank you."
The first thing that comes to my mind is an ongoing family situation that has caused a lot of pain and stress over the last two months. Without going into too much detail, lets just say that it is impossible at this point in the process to be thankful for what has happened in my family. But as I reflect back on the many visits, emails and conversations that have filled these anxious weeks I can see a bright spot if I really search for it. I am exceedingly thankful for my mother.
Growing up I always thought I was more like my father, and I have so many memories of all the effort I put into my relationship with him. Because my mom was home full-time and homeschooled us, my memories of her during my childhood are not filled with the same intensity, she was just a peaceful constant. Now since getting married, moving away and having a son I am seeing more and more of my mother in me and unlike the way it is portrayed in movies and TV, I have no dread of being like my mother.
I remember her buying me groceries on the day I moved out, driving out to be with me in the middle of the night after a tough break up, coming to check up on me when I was sick. She was the one I couldn't wait to have arrive after the birth of my son and despite the distance the separates us I know she would come at a moments notice if I needed her.
Witnessing her struggle through this difficult time in my family I have discovered a new depth to my mother. I have seen more strength of character, more stubbornness of will, more honesty, more faith and reliance on God, more unconditional love then I ever expected to find in anyone. She is not perfect and I do not know why God has chosen to grow her in such a radical way, but as I watch her wade through a dark place in life I am convicted and challenged and thankful. I am thankful that God is breaking the waves for my mother, thankful that in the midst of all this change she is the person I have always known her to be, thankful that she is broken but not destroyed. Perhaps the greatest blessing God bestowed on my family is my mother, and for that I can say "thank you."
Monday, November 22, 2010
Biological Imperative
And now the munchkin is walking.
That happened fast. Every day he is choosing to walk more and more in his uneven, precarious way as he perfects the balance of stepping while standing. Absolutely adorable and at the same time saddening for me as I watch him walk (literally and figuratively) a little more away from me.
Every time he falls I feel sure that he will give up walking at least for a little while until he is stronger and more balanced, but no matter how hard the spill he eagerly gets back up and steps again. It is incredible to watch and for me personally challenging. It looks so hard, yet he was obviously made to do it as evidenced by his determination to get it right and his excited concentration with each stride.
As I have watched him learn how to hold his head up, sit, crawl, stand and now walk I am amazed by the biological imperative that drives a baby to go from a fully dependent newborn to a willful independent toddler. Mastering these skills never seemed optional for my son. Watching him it never appears that he one day decided to walk. Instead I see him and it is almost as if from the moment he took his first breath some invisible force has been pushing him to get up and discover the limits of his body.
Do these biological imperative end after childhood? I don't think so. I can see in my own life that I am hardwired too. Everyday I feel an invisible force pushing me. In just the same way that God programmed my son to learn how to walk, I am aware of my own biological imperative to seek and yearn for a relationship with my creator. Maybe this all sounds corny, but until I had my son I don't think I had ever witnessed such a clear example of how our wiring as humans shapes our behaviors. I don't think I ever really understood that I was made to worship God.
Yes, we can choose to ignore God, or even deny him, but I think in all of us there is still that longing. It is a denial of our very being to turn away from relationship with our creator, and though that is a choice we each get to make for ourselves, that does not mean that the soul can reject it's programming and cease to feel the need for God. Needing God is not a choice, anymore then we choose to learn how to walk. It is just a part of how we are beautifully and wonderfully made.
That happened fast. Every day he is choosing to walk more and more in his uneven, precarious way as he perfects the balance of stepping while standing. Absolutely adorable and at the same time saddening for me as I watch him walk (literally and figuratively) a little more away from me.
Every time he falls I feel sure that he will give up walking at least for a little while until he is stronger and more balanced, but no matter how hard the spill he eagerly gets back up and steps again. It is incredible to watch and for me personally challenging. It looks so hard, yet he was obviously made to do it as evidenced by his determination to get it right and his excited concentration with each stride.
As I have watched him learn how to hold his head up, sit, crawl, stand and now walk I am amazed by the biological imperative that drives a baby to go from a fully dependent newborn to a willful independent toddler. Mastering these skills never seemed optional for my son. Watching him it never appears that he one day decided to walk. Instead I see him and it is almost as if from the moment he took his first breath some invisible force has been pushing him to get up and discover the limits of his body.
Do these biological imperative end after childhood? I don't think so. I can see in my own life that I am hardwired too. Everyday I feel an invisible force pushing me. In just the same way that God programmed my son to learn how to walk, I am aware of my own biological imperative to seek and yearn for a relationship with my creator. Maybe this all sounds corny, but until I had my son I don't think I had ever witnessed such a clear example of how our wiring as humans shapes our behaviors. I don't think I ever really understood that I was made to worship God.
Yes, we can choose to ignore God, or even deny him, but I think in all of us there is still that longing. It is a denial of our very being to turn away from relationship with our creator, and though that is a choice we each get to make for ourselves, that does not mean that the soul can reject it's programming and cease to feel the need for God. Needing God is not a choice, anymore then we choose to learn how to walk. It is just a part of how we are beautifully and wonderfully made.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Right Around the Corner
I discovered on Monday of this week that next Thursday is Thanksgiving. Ok, I guess I should have already been aware of that, but I think my mind had created an extra week of breathing room between me and the holiday season.
Now that I am having to face reality of the holidays being right around the corner, I have started evaluating our holiday traditions and habits. This year seems filled with more meaning for our family then past years because we are more of a family unit having the munchkin to worry about. This year to me symbolizes all the many years to come and the traditions that will imprint beautiful memories on our sons mind.
First and foremost I am eager to find ways to downplay the commercialism that is synonymous with Thanksgiving and Christmas, and find ways to focus on God and family and others, the truly important things that we have a chance to choose to remember at this time of year.
My husband and I are feeling very gift phobic this year in particular, I think because so many people want to give our son gifts. While I am so grateful and touched by the generosity and giving spirit of those around us, I also want to find a way to get away from the gift giving and emphasize more meaningful things.
So after discussing how we want to handle the gift question in our little family, my hubby and I decided that this year will be homemade gifts only. Whether this is something that becomes a family tradition only time will tell, but this year it feels right. Even as I started working on my gift for the munchkin I could already feel how much more special this gift is then anything I could have bought at the store. I am investing part of myself in this gift and every time my son plays with it I will think of the nights I spent working on it and perfecting it just for him.
I am loving homemade gifts and the attitude about the season that is being shaped by our choice to celebrate the season in ways that are more meaningful and true to what we believe this time of year is all about. I would love to hear ideas you all have about other ways to create meaning this time of year....
Now that I am having to face reality of the holidays being right around the corner, I have started evaluating our holiday traditions and habits. This year seems filled with more meaning for our family then past years because we are more of a family unit having the munchkin to worry about. This year to me symbolizes all the many years to come and the traditions that will imprint beautiful memories on our sons mind.
First and foremost I am eager to find ways to downplay the commercialism that is synonymous with Thanksgiving and Christmas, and find ways to focus on God and family and others, the truly important things that we have a chance to choose to remember at this time of year.
My husband and I are feeling very gift phobic this year in particular, I think because so many people want to give our son gifts. While I am so grateful and touched by the generosity and giving spirit of those around us, I also want to find a way to get away from the gift giving and emphasize more meaningful things.
So after discussing how we want to handle the gift question in our little family, my hubby and I decided that this year will be homemade gifts only. Whether this is something that becomes a family tradition only time will tell, but this year it feels right. Even as I started working on my gift for the munchkin I could already feel how much more special this gift is then anything I could have bought at the store. I am investing part of myself in this gift and every time my son plays with it I will think of the nights I spent working on it and perfecting it just for him.
I am loving homemade gifts and the attitude about the season that is being shaped by our choice to celebrate the season in ways that are more meaningful and true to what we believe this time of year is all about. I would love to hear ideas you all have about other ways to create meaning this time of year....
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
My List
During my quiet time this morning for some reason the thoughts that kept popping into my head were all about things that I would love to have a chance to do at some point in my lifetime. So, I decided to make a list in hopes of getting them out of my head to make space for other more pressing matters.
1. Run a marathon. Why I want to do this is hard to say. I hate to run, have never been good at it. But, for many years now I have had a desire to really challenge myself to get out of my comfort zone and take on a task that requires discipline, perseverance and courage. Ideally I would like to do this one with someone else who is also not a runner.
2. Go on a missions trip. Preferably overseas to a third world country. This one has been on my heart for a very long time. It may be very pretentious and American of me, but I truly want to see with my own eyes the need that exists in the world. I want my heart to be changed and my perspective shaken.
3. Write a book. Even a children's book, whatever. I just want to write something.
4. Visit Jerusalem.
I can't think of a 5th thing otherwise I would call this my top 5.
How about you? What's in your top 5?
1. Run a marathon. Why I want to do this is hard to say. I hate to run, have never been good at it. But, for many years now I have had a desire to really challenge myself to get out of my comfort zone and take on a task that requires discipline, perseverance and courage. Ideally I would like to do this one with someone else who is also not a runner.
2. Go on a missions trip. Preferably overseas to a third world country. This one has been on my heart for a very long time. It may be very pretentious and American of me, but I truly want to see with my own eyes the need that exists in the world. I want my heart to be changed and my perspective shaken.
3. Write a book. Even a children's book, whatever. I just want to write something.
4. Visit Jerusalem.
I can't think of a 5th thing otherwise I would call this my top 5.
How about you? What's in your top 5?
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
A Letter to My Son
So, now you are a year old. This past year has been the most amazing of my life. What a blessing it has been to watch you grow and learn and develop into this little person that makes my heart feel like bursting every single day.
From the moment I first held you in my arms I knew my life would never be the same. And it isn't. Everything has been changed, and as I am reflecting back on how the last year has molded and shaped me, my lifestyle and my relationships I don't think I would change any of it back. I feel as though I have learned and grown right along with you. Being a mom has taught me true sacrifice, selflessness, joy, and how to play again.
I remember when we first got you home from the hospital. Your dad and I looked at each other and started wishing right away that your Grandma was there to help us. It was hard work for those first few weeks and months as you seemed to be a bundle of never ending need, from nursing to sleeping to your incessant desire to constantly be in someones arms. Looking back I remember that I was frustrated at times and there were days when all I wanted was to be able to put you down for 10 minutes together so I could rest, but those feelings have been replaced by beautiful memories of long days spent on the couch together, cozy and inseparable, when I could ignore the housework and the cooking because you were a newborn and I was a new mom and that was allowed.
These days you are more and more active and energetic and I am getting a clearer picture of what your personality is like. You are so curious and at times very serious as you explore the world around you. No matter how many times you have been through the house, you still manage to find something new to discover, and I am discovering all these things with you. You have reminded me of how interesting measuring cups, pot lids, Q-tips, toilet paper, socks and coasters really are.
I worried for a long time that you were very solemn and for most of the past year your father and I have gone out of our way to coax smiles and the occasional laugh out of you. But now you have decided that smiling and laughing are your thing and you do them non-stop. I think you just had to learn more about the world before deciding there were sufficient reasons to express happiness and joy every day. Or perhaps you just had to get old enough to be able to appreciate how funny your parents truly are. Our house has never been filled with so much laughter as it is these days.
I am thankful for so many things over this past year. I am thankful that I held you all the time when you were little. I am thankful that you chose to sleep in bed with us, and that you still spend part of the night co-sleeping with me. I am thankful that I am home with you for most of the time so that I am not missing the joy of watching you grow and change every day. I am thankful for every time I chose to wear you in the sling close to my heart instead of letting you ride in a stroller or cart. Now that you are getting so big and want to be more independent, I miss it. I am thankful that I did not chose to wean you by 1 year old. You are still so little and I can't bear to lose the excuse to cuddle with you for long periods of time several times each day. I am thankful that you are strong and healthy and fearless, and that you move and climb and yell just the way a little boy should.
This time is going so quickly and I can see clearly that you will be grown before I am ready. I am praying every day that God would watch over you as you grow and that he will lead and guide you throughout your life. There is so much that I want to teach you, but I know that you have so much to teach me too. This next year is going to be full of discovery, exploration, learning and connecting as a family. I can't wait to see what you become. Happy Birthday little one. Love, Mom.
From the moment I first held you in my arms I knew my life would never be the same. And it isn't. Everything has been changed, and as I am reflecting back on how the last year has molded and shaped me, my lifestyle and my relationships I don't think I would change any of it back. I feel as though I have learned and grown right along with you. Being a mom has taught me true sacrifice, selflessness, joy, and how to play again.
I remember when we first got you home from the hospital. Your dad and I looked at each other and started wishing right away that your Grandma was there to help us. It was hard work for those first few weeks and months as you seemed to be a bundle of never ending need, from nursing to sleeping to your incessant desire to constantly be in someones arms. Looking back I remember that I was frustrated at times and there were days when all I wanted was to be able to put you down for 10 minutes together so I could rest, but those feelings have been replaced by beautiful memories of long days spent on the couch together, cozy and inseparable, when I could ignore the housework and the cooking because you were a newborn and I was a new mom and that was allowed.
These days you are more and more active and energetic and I am getting a clearer picture of what your personality is like. You are so curious and at times very serious as you explore the world around you. No matter how many times you have been through the house, you still manage to find something new to discover, and I am discovering all these things with you. You have reminded me of how interesting measuring cups, pot lids, Q-tips, toilet paper, socks and coasters really are.
I worried for a long time that you were very solemn and for most of the past year your father and I have gone out of our way to coax smiles and the occasional laugh out of you. But now you have decided that smiling and laughing are your thing and you do them non-stop. I think you just had to learn more about the world before deciding there were sufficient reasons to express happiness and joy every day. Or perhaps you just had to get old enough to be able to appreciate how funny your parents truly are. Our house has never been filled with so much laughter as it is these days.
I am thankful for so many things over this past year. I am thankful that I held you all the time when you were little. I am thankful that you chose to sleep in bed with us, and that you still spend part of the night co-sleeping with me. I am thankful that I am home with you for most of the time so that I am not missing the joy of watching you grow and change every day. I am thankful for every time I chose to wear you in the sling close to my heart instead of letting you ride in a stroller or cart. Now that you are getting so big and want to be more independent, I miss it. I am thankful that I did not chose to wean you by 1 year old. You are still so little and I can't bear to lose the excuse to cuddle with you for long periods of time several times each day. I am thankful that you are strong and healthy and fearless, and that you move and climb and yell just the way a little boy should.
This time is going so quickly and I can see clearly that you will be grown before I am ready. I am praying every day that God would watch over you as you grow and that he will lead and guide you throughout your life. There is so much that I want to teach you, but I know that you have so much to teach me too. This next year is going to be full of discovery, exploration, learning and connecting as a family. I can't wait to see what you become. Happy Birthday little one. Love, Mom.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Love Unconditional
Tonight I am feeling the weight of love burdening my spirit. I don't mean the joyful kind of love that is full of happiness, laughter, expectation and intimacy. No, that kind of love is easy. It is no burden to bear.
Tonight I am feeling the other side of what love is, what it truly means. I am confronted with the claim of unconditional love, and it is a huge burden indeed. Unconditional love at it's core is not about the ease and ecstasy of loving all the good and kind and comfortable things about another person. Unconditional love is about loving a person when it hurts you to do so.
I believe in unconditional love. I believe in it because I have felt it, I have been on the receiving end of it at many times in my life, and I recognize that my life will be one bump after another requiring the kind of love that can withstand the incredible beating that marks life on this planet. I believe in it because I know God lived it and offers it to me every day.
But now a very important person in my life is living in such a way as to call to account my claim of unconditional love. I am witnessing a depth of darkness that I did not know was possible in someone this close to me, and in the midst of this heartbreak and anguish I am learning an amazing thing about my love for the people in my life. Unconditional love is real.
I have never had to give it before. Until this season, this moment, when I said that I loved someone unconditionally I could only assume it to be true. Now I know it is possible, and my overwhelming feelings are awe and fear. I am in awe of the beauty and compassion that is unconditional love, and I am at the same time frightened because I know it is not something that I am fully capable of. It is a gift, a gift that I am so thankful for, but when I recognize it as a gift I am forced to recognize God's hand print on my life and feeling the hand of God on me creates a weight that presses deeply into me.
I feel tonight as though I am getting a small glimpse of the love that God has for me. The kind of love that is sobering and painful even as it encompasses all the wonderful things that love is known for. What an amazing and scary thing love is. It is something that cannot be fully experienced unless is challenged and dragged down to the dark places. It is something that is so far beyond my grasp. On nights like these it is a burden that is potent and heavy, that reminds me of the sacrifice God made for me and the sacrifice I am called to make for those around me that I love unconditionally.
Tonight I am feeling the other side of what love is, what it truly means. I am confronted with the claim of unconditional love, and it is a huge burden indeed. Unconditional love at it's core is not about the ease and ecstasy of loving all the good and kind and comfortable things about another person. Unconditional love is about loving a person when it hurts you to do so.
I believe in unconditional love. I believe in it because I have felt it, I have been on the receiving end of it at many times in my life, and I recognize that my life will be one bump after another requiring the kind of love that can withstand the incredible beating that marks life on this planet. I believe in it because I know God lived it and offers it to me every day.
But now a very important person in my life is living in such a way as to call to account my claim of unconditional love. I am witnessing a depth of darkness that I did not know was possible in someone this close to me, and in the midst of this heartbreak and anguish I am learning an amazing thing about my love for the people in my life. Unconditional love is real.
I have never had to give it before. Until this season, this moment, when I said that I loved someone unconditionally I could only assume it to be true. Now I know it is possible, and my overwhelming feelings are awe and fear. I am in awe of the beauty and compassion that is unconditional love, and I am at the same time frightened because I know it is not something that I am fully capable of. It is a gift, a gift that I am so thankful for, but when I recognize it as a gift I am forced to recognize God's hand print on my life and feeling the hand of God on me creates a weight that presses deeply into me.
I feel tonight as though I am getting a small glimpse of the love that God has for me. The kind of love that is sobering and painful even as it encompasses all the wonderful things that love is known for. What an amazing and scary thing love is. It is something that cannot be fully experienced unless is challenged and dragged down to the dark places. It is something that is so far beyond my grasp. On nights like these it is a burden that is potent and heavy, that reminds me of the sacrifice God made for me and the sacrifice I am called to make for those around me that I love unconditionally.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Days of Remembering
Some days are days of remembering
when memories are ever before me
when the past I can't change is pressing into me
when the things that are done are weighing down on me
These days that I am remembering
are over and gone
yet in my mind they live on
taking life from these days that do not last long
Why am I remembering
when I should be living
so that my memories will be worth remembering some day
when memories are ever before me
when the past I can't change is pressing into me
when the things that are done are weighing down on me
These days that I am remembering
are over and gone
yet in my mind they live on
taking life from these days that do not last long
Why am I remembering
when I should be living
so that my memories will be worth remembering some day
Monday, November 1, 2010
Gift Giving
As my little one's first birthday and the holidays are quickly approaching one thing that has been at the forefront of my mind is the issue of presents. Since the munchkin will only be one year old I have to admit that my hubby and I have not gotten him anything as of yet, and I am not sure we are going to. Right now he does not need anything, and lets be honest, he won't remember years from now whether or not we even got him a present.
But besides the age factor, I am finding myself torn about the gift idea altogether. Don't get me wrong, I am sure giving gifts to your children is a lot of fun, especially once they are old enough to really appreciate them, but I have always known that I did not want to be one of those parents that showers their child with every gift they asked for and then some. I have been to some little kids birthdays where the parents have to start taking away some of the toys that were opened first because the child is so excited about them that they don't even care to open more presents. I remember very clearly witnessing one of these parties and thinking to myself, "Wow, that kid would have been perfectly satisfied with the first gift he opened. Why does he even need eight more gifts?"
My instincts are to limit the number of gifts that are given at birthday's and Christmas. I would rather give one or two well thought out gifts then have my child surrounded by a pile of presents that will likely only hold his attention for a short time, regardless of the euphoria that situation might create for him or her. Not to mention that since the munchkin was born we have been careful about what kind of toys he plays with. We have avoided many toys that light up and make noise because we want him to play not be entertained. We have chosen toys that require him to learn and think and imagine.
So, this is a question that my hubby and I are wrestling with and will probably have to iron out as our little one grows and the pressure to get more and more presents mounts.
During a recent visit with my Grandpa he said something that has really stuck with me and made me evaluate the idea of gifts for our children. Grandpa was one of 9 children and growing up he did not have a lot of toys, but felt that having to make do with what he had built so much character in him. As we talked about his childhood and raising children he said, "I think one of the biggest challenges facing parents today is knowing that they can afford to give their children so many things yet making the conscious choice not to."
I don't want my son to have everything. I want him to know what it is like to not get what he wants all the time. I truly believe that children can learn so much more through the absence of abundance then they can with it, and that part of character formation is being able to appreciate the things you have. This is taught first and foremost by the example that my husband and I set, but secondly by the message we send on birthdays and Christmas.
Yes, we will give our son gifts, but my earnest desire is that he can grow into a man who does not require more and more things to be satisfied with his life, and that he can learn to be happy with the little that he actually needs so that his abundance can be used to bless other people.
But besides the age factor, I am finding myself torn about the gift idea altogether. Don't get me wrong, I am sure giving gifts to your children is a lot of fun, especially once they are old enough to really appreciate them, but I have always known that I did not want to be one of those parents that showers their child with every gift they asked for and then some. I have been to some little kids birthdays where the parents have to start taking away some of the toys that were opened first because the child is so excited about them that they don't even care to open more presents. I remember very clearly witnessing one of these parties and thinking to myself, "Wow, that kid would have been perfectly satisfied with the first gift he opened. Why does he even need eight more gifts?"
My instincts are to limit the number of gifts that are given at birthday's and Christmas. I would rather give one or two well thought out gifts then have my child surrounded by a pile of presents that will likely only hold his attention for a short time, regardless of the euphoria that situation might create for him or her. Not to mention that since the munchkin was born we have been careful about what kind of toys he plays with. We have avoided many toys that light up and make noise because we want him to play not be entertained. We have chosen toys that require him to learn and think and imagine.
So, this is a question that my hubby and I are wrestling with and will probably have to iron out as our little one grows and the pressure to get more and more presents mounts.
During a recent visit with my Grandpa he said something that has really stuck with me and made me evaluate the idea of gifts for our children. Grandpa was one of 9 children and growing up he did not have a lot of toys, but felt that having to make do with what he had built so much character in him. As we talked about his childhood and raising children he said, "I think one of the biggest challenges facing parents today is knowing that they can afford to give their children so many things yet making the conscious choice not to."
I don't want my son to have everything. I want him to know what it is like to not get what he wants all the time. I truly believe that children can learn so much more through the absence of abundance then they can with it, and that part of character formation is being able to appreciate the things you have. This is taught first and foremost by the example that my husband and I set, but secondly by the message we send on birthdays and Christmas.
Yes, we will give our son gifts, but my earnest desire is that he can grow into a man who does not require more and more things to be satisfied with his life, and that he can learn to be happy with the little that he actually needs so that his abundance can be used to bless other people.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Discovering Parenting
When I had my son I wouldn't really say I had much of an idea what my parenting philosophy was. Of course I had some things clearly spelled out in the do's and don'ts columns. For example the do column contained cloth diapers and extended breast feeding, while the don't column contained pacifiers, television, and daily intake of sweets.
But I am not sure there is truly a way to know what your parenting philosophy is until that baby is in your arms and suddenly you have to start making on-the-spot decisions about how to respond to it. That explains how we fell into co-sleeping, how my child was almost never out of someones arms until the age of 3 months, and how we quickly rejected any cry-it-out methods of sleep training. I would say being a parent is 80% reaction and about 10% intention, with the other 10% being taken up by moments of insanity.
It has taken a good year for my husband and I to really come into our own as parents, and that is not to say that we have arrived by any means. It feels as though our parenting philosophy is daily challenged and in constant flux. But, we do know in general how we want to respond to our son and what things are really important to us as molders and shapers of this future autonomous person.
As the munchkin is approaching his one year birthday it is amazing to look back and see how far we have come. Our baby has grown so much, but it feels as though I have grown even more. My relationship with my husband has been stretched and strengthened, my relationship with my friends has adapted and grown, my relationship with God has evolved in a way I never expected and I can feel that who I am at a deep level has been changed.
Becoming a parent is about so much more then how much television to let your child watch and what type of diapers you use. It is about discovering a completely new side of yourself that can be more selfless, more giving and yet full of the most unique kind of love and joy that can only be experienced through the challenges and ups and downs of parenting.
But I am not sure there is truly a way to know what your parenting philosophy is until that baby is in your arms and suddenly you have to start making on-the-spot decisions about how to respond to it. That explains how we fell into co-sleeping, how my child was almost never out of someones arms until the age of 3 months, and how we quickly rejected any cry-it-out methods of sleep training. I would say being a parent is 80% reaction and about 10% intention, with the other 10% being taken up by moments of insanity.
It has taken a good year for my husband and I to really come into our own as parents, and that is not to say that we have arrived by any means. It feels as though our parenting philosophy is daily challenged and in constant flux. But, we do know in general how we want to respond to our son and what things are really important to us as molders and shapers of this future autonomous person.
As the munchkin is approaching his one year birthday it is amazing to look back and see how far we have come. Our baby has grown so much, but it feels as though I have grown even more. My relationship with my husband has been stretched and strengthened, my relationship with my friends has adapted and grown, my relationship with God has evolved in a way I never expected and I can feel that who I am at a deep level has been changed.
Becoming a parent is about so much more then how much television to let your child watch and what type of diapers you use. It is about discovering a completely new side of yourself that can be more selfless, more giving and yet full of the most unique kind of love and joy that can only be experienced through the challenges and ups and downs of parenting.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Calls for Help
This season in my life has been drenched in prayer in a way I have never experienced before. I have always struggled with prayer. I would sit down with the best intentions of spending 10 solid minutes communing with God, or I would try to pray throughout the day, on my drive to work, before I fell asleep, but always my mind would wander off without my even knowing and I would usually say "amen" in frustration.
But now I find myself in a situation far beyond my control or ability to cope, and throughout the day I am leaning more and more on prayer. Don't get me wrong, I do not pray all day nor do I have long, fruitful conversations with God. What I have found is that in this time of true need as I am struggling to rely on God as my only source of help and restoration, my heart seems to be calling out to him at times even without me consciously choosing to.
Mostly it manifests itself in little desperate calls for help that sound to me a lot like begging. I will be doing the laundry or brushing my teeth and I catch myself praying "God, please restore what is broken." or "Lord, we need you so desperately in this situation." It may not sound like a lot, but it keeps happening throughout the day, sometimes for longer periods, and for me at least it is so much more then at any time in my past.
Even as my prayers are increasing I am also aware of mixed feelings regarding this new development in my walk with God. I feel as though I am using God. I did not pray as much as I would have liked to in the past, but now that I need something from him prayers seem to be flowing out of me full of requests and demands for intervention. There is also a part of me that does not want to pray and ask God for anything because of my fear that if this situation is not resolved to my liking that I will resent God for not having stepped in. I would rather not ask then risk being denied.
Yet, my prayers continue. It does not feel optional. I recognize my need for God during this season, and fair or not, answered or not, I do not think my heart will let me stop praying. Perhaps that is why God brings these times in our lives. To spread our hearts open to him and pour out of us all those things that we know are beyond our realm of influence and require a deep touch from God and a healthy dose of prayer.
But now I find myself in a situation far beyond my control or ability to cope, and throughout the day I am leaning more and more on prayer. Don't get me wrong, I do not pray all day nor do I have long, fruitful conversations with God. What I have found is that in this time of true need as I am struggling to rely on God as my only source of help and restoration, my heart seems to be calling out to him at times even without me consciously choosing to.
Mostly it manifests itself in little desperate calls for help that sound to me a lot like begging. I will be doing the laundry or brushing my teeth and I catch myself praying "God, please restore what is broken." or "Lord, we need you so desperately in this situation." It may not sound like a lot, but it keeps happening throughout the day, sometimes for longer periods, and for me at least it is so much more then at any time in my past.
Even as my prayers are increasing I am also aware of mixed feelings regarding this new development in my walk with God. I feel as though I am using God. I did not pray as much as I would have liked to in the past, but now that I need something from him prayers seem to be flowing out of me full of requests and demands for intervention. There is also a part of me that does not want to pray and ask God for anything because of my fear that if this situation is not resolved to my liking that I will resent God for not having stepped in. I would rather not ask then risk being denied.
Yet, my prayers continue. It does not feel optional. I recognize my need for God during this season, and fair or not, answered or not, I do not think my heart will let me stop praying. Perhaps that is why God brings these times in our lives. To spread our hearts open to him and pour out of us all those things that we know are beyond our realm of influence and require a deep touch from God and a healthy dose of prayer.
Monday, October 25, 2010
DOING
Church has been an important part of my life for as long as I can remember. I was raised in the church, my parents were always involved in church ministry at a deep level and our weekly routine flowed around activities linked to the church.
Since moving to Chicago I have struggled with finding a church and more importantly, finding the point of attending a church regularly. Somewhere along the way in my journey I have become disillusioned with church and religion in general. Yes, I believe in God, but I am not sure how to find him amidst the rituals, rhetoric and relevance that personify organized religion to me.
At work last week, one of my patients illustrated to me a perfect example of why I am struggling with church at this time in my life. This patient was a young woman, a single mom to two small children who is in the end stages of a devastating cancer. During our visit she confessed to me that she is too sick and fatigued to make good meals for her children and feels guilty with always having frozen lasagna. I asked if there was any family to help her and she said no, she was on her own. Digging deeper I asked about any other organizations she was involved in that might be able to help her with home cooked meals.
Her response was this: "My church was sending me meals, but the lady who was in charge of it said I was too much of a burden, so I don't ask them for meals anymore."
My sadness at hearing this was matched only by my anger. Of course I know that not all churches are like that, but what this story illuminated for me is what a poor job many churches do of actually DOING anything. Right there in that congregation was a woman in desperate need of home cooked meals for her kids and her need was viewed as too much of a burden, at least to the particular woman in charge of that ministry.
My patients story reminded me of all the reasons I am frustrated with churches. I am frustrated with the huge buildings, the lavish interiors, the concert style worship services. I am frustrated with the three point messages, the color bulletins, the souped up visual effects. But, I think on a deeper level what I am really frustrated with is myself and my own inaction and lack of DOING something to meet the needs of the truly needy around me.
I have not given up on church. I will continue to seek a church home and more to the point, seek what place I have in these less then perfect institutions that are called to be the hands and feet of Jesus. I can recognize that I have no right to criticize unless I am also willing to roll up my sleeves and do what needs to be done, to take on the burden of those in need and to show love to those I have an opportunity to touch, through the ministry of a church or at times in spite of it.
Since moving to Chicago I have struggled with finding a church and more importantly, finding the point of attending a church regularly. Somewhere along the way in my journey I have become disillusioned with church and religion in general. Yes, I believe in God, but I am not sure how to find him amidst the rituals, rhetoric and relevance that personify organized religion to me.
At work last week, one of my patients illustrated to me a perfect example of why I am struggling with church at this time in my life. This patient was a young woman, a single mom to two small children who is in the end stages of a devastating cancer. During our visit she confessed to me that she is too sick and fatigued to make good meals for her children and feels guilty with always having frozen lasagna. I asked if there was any family to help her and she said no, she was on her own. Digging deeper I asked about any other organizations she was involved in that might be able to help her with home cooked meals.
Her response was this: "My church was sending me meals, but the lady who was in charge of it said I was too much of a burden, so I don't ask them for meals anymore."
My sadness at hearing this was matched only by my anger. Of course I know that not all churches are like that, but what this story illuminated for me is what a poor job many churches do of actually DOING anything. Right there in that congregation was a woman in desperate need of home cooked meals for her kids and her need was viewed as too much of a burden, at least to the particular woman in charge of that ministry.
My patients story reminded me of all the reasons I am frustrated with churches. I am frustrated with the huge buildings, the lavish interiors, the concert style worship services. I am frustrated with the three point messages, the color bulletins, the souped up visual effects. But, I think on a deeper level what I am really frustrated with is myself and my own inaction and lack of DOING something to meet the needs of the truly needy around me.
I have not given up on church. I will continue to seek a church home and more to the point, seek what place I have in these less then perfect institutions that are called to be the hands and feet of Jesus. I can recognize that I have no right to criticize unless I am also willing to roll up my sleeves and do what needs to be done, to take on the burden of those in need and to show love to those I have an opportunity to touch, through the ministry of a church or at times in spite of it.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Nights Around the Fire
There is something about fire that draws people into intimacy. I know that is kind of a weird thing to write, but it is something I have experienced twice now over the last month.
Several weeks ago during a visit with my family, my siblings and I spent two long evenings gathered around a fire pit talking, laughing, crying, praying and arguing in the way only the six of us can. There was just something magical about gathering around a fire, watching the flames leap and dance while pouring our souls out to each other. Somehow the darkness that surrounded us, broken only by the fire we circled, provided a safe place to unburden myself, to be honest and open as though there was nothing else I needed to worry about except the intensity of the flames that warmed me and the company of the people I loved the most around me.
This week, after a difficult day, I suggested my hubby and I have a candle lit dinner after the munchkin was in bed. Once the house was quiet, I cooked up a quick meal, turned off all the lights in the house and we ate a cozy dinner at our dining room table with only the pale flicker of candle light. I don't know if it was the candles that I have to thank for that evening, but the conversation that flowed between us was deep and rich and exactly what we needed as a couple. We talked about our relationship, family and God, but instead of settling for the surface interactions that mark our day to day communication, we were able to really dig into each others mind and heart and find that deeper level of openness and connection that can be so elusive in our daily routine.
As I have reflected back on these moments that have been so meaningful to me, I really think, as funny as it may sound, that coming together around fire be it bonfire or candle light, creates an atmosphere of ease and intimacy that allows people to say things they might not have felt comfortable or safe enough to say in broad daylight. Around a fire with everyone's gaze directed at the flames and just enough shadow on your face to make you feel protected, you can expose your heart just a little more, you can be truthful about who you are even in the dark places and you can allow yourself to share an intimate moment with those around you in a way you might not have been able to do without the help of the flames.
Several weeks ago during a visit with my family, my siblings and I spent two long evenings gathered around a fire pit talking, laughing, crying, praying and arguing in the way only the six of us can. There was just something magical about gathering around a fire, watching the flames leap and dance while pouring our souls out to each other. Somehow the darkness that surrounded us, broken only by the fire we circled, provided a safe place to unburden myself, to be honest and open as though there was nothing else I needed to worry about except the intensity of the flames that warmed me and the company of the people I loved the most around me.
This week, after a difficult day, I suggested my hubby and I have a candle lit dinner after the munchkin was in bed. Once the house was quiet, I cooked up a quick meal, turned off all the lights in the house and we ate a cozy dinner at our dining room table with only the pale flicker of candle light. I don't know if it was the candles that I have to thank for that evening, but the conversation that flowed between us was deep and rich and exactly what we needed as a couple. We talked about our relationship, family and God, but instead of settling for the surface interactions that mark our day to day communication, we were able to really dig into each others mind and heart and find that deeper level of openness and connection that can be so elusive in our daily routine.
As I have reflected back on these moments that have been so meaningful to me, I really think, as funny as it may sound, that coming together around fire be it bonfire or candle light, creates an atmosphere of ease and intimacy that allows people to say things they might not have felt comfortable or safe enough to say in broad daylight. Around a fire with everyone's gaze directed at the flames and just enough shadow on your face to make you feel protected, you can expose your heart just a little more, you can be truthful about who you are even in the dark places and you can allow yourself to share an intimate moment with those around you in a way you might not have been able to do without the help of the flames.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Biggest Fan
I love movies, but don't really follow the life and times of movie stars. Music is not really my thing.I do watch a few select TV shows, but can't say that I have any interest in meeting the cast. Don't even get me started on politicians...
But meeting my favorite author, now that turns me into one of those crazy, obsessed "biggest fan" type people.
One of my favorite authors (Non-fiction. For fiction that would be Jane Austin hands down, I read Pride and Prejudice every year, no joke) is Shauna Niequist, and she recently released her newest book Bittersweet. Since she is based out of Chicago, I had the opportunity to go see her at one of her book release events this last week. My friend Jen is the one who introduced me to Shauna's writing, so we made a girls night out of it and traveled together.
Now I knew there would be a chance to get my book signed, so the entire car ride over I practiced what I would say to Shauna Niequist once I met her. It was pretty ridiculous I admit. My biggest fear was that I would come across as the nutty, star-struck fan that I am, so I was trying to think of how I could be "cool" and say something meaningful without coming across as insane. Oh the speeches I constructed in my head.
The event was a lot of fun and I basked in the quality time with such a close friend while also sharing the joy of hearing Shauna speak and getting a glimpse into her life that cannot quite be felt through the pages of a book. At the end we hurried to be one of the first in line for the book signing....the big moment. And then we were face to face with Shauna, this author that absolutely inspires me and challenges me with her beautifully crafted writing, her fierce love for her family and friends, and her deep, rich relationship with God.
It went something like this: I handed her my book, told her what name to put in it including the spelling, asked if she takes pictures with fans which she graciously agreed to, got to put my arm around her for a picture (oh yes, I basically hugged Shauna Niequist. Very cool.), said thank you, and all of a sudden Jen and and I were in the parking lot walking to my car. Wow.
I cannot even describe my disappointment as I buckled up and drove away. In my great concern for coming across as obsessed, I missed out on the chance to express my gratitude and admiration to someone whom I believe is truly deserving of it. I wanted to tell her how thankful I am for every sentence she wrote that was exactly what I was feeling. I wanted to tell her how many times I have chosen to slow down and appreciate a moment in time because her words reminded me of all the good things I am blessed with and how important it is to soak in every minute of it. I wanted to tell her about the other beautiful women in my life who have been touched by her books and have taken steps to change things in their lives because her wisdom and honesty challenged them.
But, I said nothing. Now of course I recognize that there was not time to gush all of this to her, and I am sure she hears very similar things from other fans everyday, but I really would have liked to add my voice to the chorus.
So, I guess I learned something new about myself that night, and if I could do it again I would not let my fear of making a fool out of myself leave me instead full of regret that I did not take the opportunity to make a fool out of myself and be the huge fan that I am. Like Shauna's books have taught me, savor each moment and take every opportunity you have to touch the lives of those around you. Don't be afraid to be the biggest fan.
But meeting my favorite author, now that turns me into one of those crazy, obsessed "biggest fan" type people.
One of my favorite authors (Non-fiction. For fiction that would be Jane Austin hands down, I read Pride and Prejudice every year, no joke) is Shauna Niequist, and she recently released her newest book Bittersweet. Since she is based out of Chicago, I had the opportunity to go see her at one of her book release events this last week. My friend Jen is the one who introduced me to Shauna's writing, so we made a girls night out of it and traveled together.
Now I knew there would be a chance to get my book signed, so the entire car ride over I practiced what I would say to Shauna Niequist once I met her. It was pretty ridiculous I admit. My biggest fear was that I would come across as the nutty, star-struck fan that I am, so I was trying to think of how I could be "cool" and say something meaningful without coming across as insane. Oh the speeches I constructed in my head.
The event was a lot of fun and I basked in the quality time with such a close friend while also sharing the joy of hearing Shauna speak and getting a glimpse into her life that cannot quite be felt through the pages of a book. At the end we hurried to be one of the first in line for the book signing....the big moment. And then we were face to face with Shauna, this author that absolutely inspires me and challenges me with her beautifully crafted writing, her fierce love for her family and friends, and her deep, rich relationship with God.
It went something like this: I handed her my book, told her what name to put in it including the spelling, asked if she takes pictures with fans which she graciously agreed to, got to put my arm around her for a picture (oh yes, I basically hugged Shauna Niequist. Very cool.), said thank you, and all of a sudden Jen and and I were in the parking lot walking to my car. Wow.
I cannot even describe my disappointment as I buckled up and drove away. In my great concern for coming across as obsessed, I missed out on the chance to express my gratitude and admiration to someone whom I believe is truly deserving of it. I wanted to tell her how thankful I am for every sentence she wrote that was exactly what I was feeling. I wanted to tell her how many times I have chosen to slow down and appreciate a moment in time because her words reminded me of all the good things I am blessed with and how important it is to soak in every minute of it. I wanted to tell her about the other beautiful women in my life who have been touched by her books and have taken steps to change things in their lives because her wisdom and honesty challenged them.
But, I said nothing. Now of course I recognize that there was not time to gush all of this to her, and I am sure she hears very similar things from other fans everyday, but I really would have liked to add my voice to the chorus.
So, I guess I learned something new about myself that night, and if I could do it again I would not let my fear of making a fool out of myself leave me instead full of regret that I did not take the opportunity to make a fool out of myself and be the huge fan that I am. Like Shauna's books have taught me, savor each moment and take every opportunity you have to touch the lives of those around you. Don't be afraid to be the biggest fan.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
All These Things
Beauty and riches
long life and happiness
Family and friendships
Time and patience
Inner peace and kindness
grace and compassion
Ease and contentment
healing and restoration
Wisdom and understanding
a heart of love and mercy
Talent and motivation
discipline and humility
But of all these things, what I want more, so much more then anything
Is to know you
long life and happiness
Family and friendships
Time and patience
Inner peace and kindness
grace and compassion
Ease and contentment
healing and restoration
Wisdom and understanding
a heart of love and mercy
Talent and motivation
discipline and humility
But of all these things, what I want more, so much more then anything
Is to know you
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Blogging Grace
I have blog envy.
Since I have started blogging I have also started reading more blogs (including some blogs that are supposed to teach you how to be a better blogger) and I will admit that on some days I kind of hate my blog. The very best blogs that I have found are well written, focused on a specific topic or niche and are spearheaded by a very interesting blogger who usually has unique characteristics that define his or her life.
At this point my blog has none of those things. I don't mean to say that in a woe is me kind of way, it is just a simple observation that my writing is rusty, my topics are all over the place, and if I'm being honest, there is nothing that unique about my life these days (not that I'm complaining, I love my simple, beautiful, ordinary life).
So, some days I hate my blog, and on those days I am forced to search my thoughts and feelings for the reason why. Why does it matter to me how popular, read, or followed my blog is? Why am I blogging in the first place?
I started blogging because I wanted to write. Period. No agenda, no niche or clear cut topic, no platform. I guess what I am finding is that, yes it is great that I want to write and I am doing that, but it naturally follows that I want to be read too. Hence the blog envy when I visit some of my favorite blogs and see the followers in the thousands.
My good friend recently told me something to this effect, "You have to be able to give yourself grace."
I am not good at that in any area of my life really, from the cleanliness of my house to my exercise habits, I like to have it all put together and can be very hard on myself when things do not stack up. But as I deal with my blog envy the concept of grace is where I am putting my efforts. I am trying to give myself grace to have a very new blog that is still discovering itself, grace that I have not yet decided where I want to go with my writing, grace that I am still exploring the things in my life that I am passionate about and that fuel my writing.
My instincts and personality tell me that I want to have it all now, I want to have arrived, but I know there is a long road of discovery that I still have to travel as I decide what this blog is all about and what I am all about. I don't have to have everything all figured out right now, though wouldn't that be nice. I just have to have grace for myself as I am writing and blogging, learning and growing, finding my passion, my niche and maybe a little bit of myself along the way.
Since I have started blogging I have also started reading more blogs (including some blogs that are supposed to teach you how to be a better blogger) and I will admit that on some days I kind of hate my blog. The very best blogs that I have found are well written, focused on a specific topic or niche and are spearheaded by a very interesting blogger who usually has unique characteristics that define his or her life.
At this point my blog has none of those things. I don't mean to say that in a woe is me kind of way, it is just a simple observation that my writing is rusty, my topics are all over the place, and if I'm being honest, there is nothing that unique about my life these days (not that I'm complaining, I love my simple, beautiful, ordinary life).
So, some days I hate my blog, and on those days I am forced to search my thoughts and feelings for the reason why. Why does it matter to me how popular, read, or followed my blog is? Why am I blogging in the first place?
I started blogging because I wanted to write. Period. No agenda, no niche or clear cut topic, no platform. I guess what I am finding is that, yes it is great that I want to write and I am doing that, but it naturally follows that I want to be read too. Hence the blog envy when I visit some of my favorite blogs and see the followers in the thousands.
My good friend recently told me something to this effect, "You have to be able to give yourself grace."
I am not good at that in any area of my life really, from the cleanliness of my house to my exercise habits, I like to have it all put together and can be very hard on myself when things do not stack up. But as I deal with my blog envy the concept of grace is where I am putting my efforts. I am trying to give myself grace to have a very new blog that is still discovering itself, grace that I have not yet decided where I want to go with my writing, grace that I am still exploring the things in my life that I am passionate about and that fuel my writing.
My instincts and personality tell me that I want to have it all now, I want to have arrived, but I know there is a long road of discovery that I still have to travel as I decide what this blog is all about and what I am all about. I don't have to have everything all figured out right now, though wouldn't that be nice. I just have to have grace for myself as I am writing and blogging, learning and growing, finding my passion, my niche and maybe a little bit of myself along the way.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Sick Days
Mothers do not get sick days.
I realized this many months ago when my little one got his first illness and I of course caught it too. He was sick, I was more sick, and it was a struggle to get through those few days when all I wanted to do was take a long, long, loooong bath and curl up in bed for several hours of sleep. I had only been a mother for two months at that time, but I learned an important lesson about being sick in this new context of my life: there are no sick days.
Today the munchkin and I are both sick again, and I do not have any words of wisdom about how to cope with a coughing, snotty, sleepless infant when you yourself have the body aches, sinus headache, chills and congestion. There is no easy answer. I wish there was someone who could step in just for a few hours so I could get the rest I need, but that is not the reality of this moment. Today is one of those inevitable days in mothering when I have to grin and bear it.
But it is not all gloomy, and I will take a break from my pity party for a minute to appreciate the beauty of today. For a few brief moments this morning the munchkin and I shared a deep belly laugh as we played with the cat, when we both woke up bright and early we laid in bed together for a few extras minutes snuggling, and before he left for work my hubby gave me some much needed support and sympathy.
Mothering as a full-time job comes with a completely different set of benefits then all my prior jobs. There are no sick days, no lunch breaks, no holidays and I am beginning to have a sneaking suspicion there are no vacation days either. Instead I am paid in smiles, giggles, arms outstretched to be held, the joy of the word mama, and the trusting clasp of a baby hand. Quite a different currency, but when I really think about it, it is enough to get me through these long days of feeling ill and tired.
I would love to hear from you! How do you handle sick days with a little baby?
(This blog is part of the mom's 30 minute blog challenge hosted by Steadymom)
I realized this many months ago when my little one got his first illness and I of course caught it too. He was sick, I was more sick, and it was a struggle to get through those few days when all I wanted to do was take a long, long, loooong bath and curl up in bed for several hours of sleep. I had only been a mother for two months at that time, but I learned an important lesson about being sick in this new context of my life: there are no sick days.
Today the munchkin and I are both sick again, and I do not have any words of wisdom about how to cope with a coughing, snotty, sleepless infant when you yourself have the body aches, sinus headache, chills and congestion. There is no easy answer. I wish there was someone who could step in just for a few hours so I could get the rest I need, but that is not the reality of this moment. Today is one of those inevitable days in mothering when I have to grin and bear it.
But it is not all gloomy, and I will take a break from my pity party for a minute to appreciate the beauty of today. For a few brief moments this morning the munchkin and I shared a deep belly laugh as we played with the cat, when we both woke up bright and early we laid in bed together for a few extras minutes snuggling, and before he left for work my hubby gave me some much needed support and sympathy.
Mothering as a full-time job comes with a completely different set of benefits then all my prior jobs. There are no sick days, no lunch breaks, no holidays and I am beginning to have a sneaking suspicion there are no vacation days either. Instead I am paid in smiles, giggles, arms outstretched to be held, the joy of the word mama, and the trusting clasp of a baby hand. Quite a different currency, but when I really think about it, it is enough to get me through these long days of feeling ill and tired.
I would love to hear from you! How do you handle sick days with a little baby?
(This blog is part of the mom's 30 minute blog challenge hosted by Steadymom)
Monday, October 11, 2010
Journey
I am discovering that the absolute best part about being the second oldest of six children is the opportunity to watch my younger siblings grow up. To a large extent I had a hand in raising them. When they were young I changed their diapers, helped with laundry, fed them, played with them (when mom made me), babysat them, and had the chance to teach them many things. Of course their was fighting and power struggles, disagreements and all out battles, there was a time in my teenage years when my younger siblings admit they hated me, but through it all seeing the beautiful people they have become makes me so thankful.
In this difficult season in life I have been grateful for the strength I am finding in my siblings. I am especially impressed by my sister Stephanie who is two below me. Growing up we were anything but friendly, and I used to pick on her mercilessly for no apparent reason, but now as she has entered her 20's I am continually amazed by the beautiful young woman she has become. Her ability to trust and befriend people inspires me, her artistic flair baffles and amazes me, and her faith in God challenges me each time we speak. She is a beautiful spirit in the truest sense of the phrase.
It amuses me to think back to our younger years and how my poor middle sister was always the one forgotten. When we were introduced to others or people outside the family interacted with us, she was the one who's name people couldn't remember, or they were so sure there was one more kid in our family, but couldn't put their finger on who they were missing. No one would do that now. Stephanie has blossomed into a stunning young lady, and her engaging personality makes her unforgettable.
All this to say that she has started a blog of her own and I am so excited to get this window into her mind and continue to watch her journey into womanhood.
www.stephanie-journeys.blogspot.com
In this difficult season in life I have been grateful for the strength I am finding in my siblings. I am especially impressed by my sister Stephanie who is two below me. Growing up we were anything but friendly, and I used to pick on her mercilessly for no apparent reason, but now as she has entered her 20's I am continually amazed by the beautiful young woman she has become. Her ability to trust and befriend people inspires me, her artistic flair baffles and amazes me, and her faith in God challenges me each time we speak. She is a beautiful spirit in the truest sense of the phrase.
It amuses me to think back to our younger years and how my poor middle sister was always the one forgotten. When we were introduced to others or people outside the family interacted with us, she was the one who's name people couldn't remember, or they were so sure there was one more kid in our family, but couldn't put their finger on who they were missing. No one would do that now. Stephanie has blossomed into a stunning young lady, and her engaging personality makes her unforgettable.
All this to say that she has started a blog of her own and I am so excited to get this window into her mind and continue to watch her journey into womanhood.
www.stephanie-journeys.blogspot.com
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Crisis
Crisis comes. It is a fact of life. Our lives are full of seasons, and when we are in the midst of a season it is hard to imagine life being any other way. My past few years have been a season of relative ease and happiness, but this week has marked a new season in my life, and I see that this will be a season of change, heartache and growth.
Today I am focusing on being thankful for what is good and intact in my life; my husband, my son, my amazing group of friends that rally around me, my family. Last week in the midst of a crisis I traveled to be with my family, four sisters, one brother and my parents. It was a busy, noisy, crazy few days full of tears and laughter, hope and brokenness sometimes all at once. There were meals together at crowded tables, conversations by the campfire that alternated from supportive to combative, endless trips back and forth between houses and restaurants, and at the end of the weekend I found myself tired and emotionally exhausted. But, as I traveled home I recognized the healing that can take place just by spending time with the people you love, who love you for who you are even though they know all the messy things about you.
Yes, crisis comes, but that does not mean that life is destroyed or that hope is lost. My husband is a daily reminder of how I am blessed, my son smiles at me and I feel hope again, my sister calls me and I am overwhelmed by the strength of our bond through difficult times. And above all I am learning to trust God. In the most challenging, heartbreaking way, I am reminded of the only thing I can place my hope on that will never fail, whatever crisis may come.
Today I am focusing on being thankful for what is good and intact in my life; my husband, my son, my amazing group of friends that rally around me, my family. Last week in the midst of a crisis I traveled to be with my family, four sisters, one brother and my parents. It was a busy, noisy, crazy few days full of tears and laughter, hope and brokenness sometimes all at once. There were meals together at crowded tables, conversations by the campfire that alternated from supportive to combative, endless trips back and forth between houses and restaurants, and at the end of the weekend I found myself tired and emotionally exhausted. But, as I traveled home I recognized the healing that can take place just by spending time with the people you love, who love you for who you are even though they know all the messy things about you.
Yes, crisis comes, but that does not mean that life is destroyed or that hope is lost. My husband is a daily reminder of how I am blessed, my son smiles at me and I feel hope again, my sister calls me and I am overwhelmed by the strength of our bond through difficult times. And above all I am learning to trust God. In the most challenging, heartbreaking way, I am reminded of the only thing I can place my hope on that will never fail, whatever crisis may come.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)