Sometimes I believe I'm cursed. I tell my family this all the time and they just laugh at me. There are times when I really believe this to be true. There are bad things that happen to myself and my family that just don't happen to other people. On top of that, they trend to happen sequentially...as in a downpour.
It is this cursed existence that has caused me to be an obsessive planner. I live my life through a series of quotes and one of my favorites is "If you fail to plan, you are planning to fail". This is why, on the morning of the 4th, I was shaking blankets, washing coolers, packing toys, sticking snacks in baggies, checking lists, and doing everything possible to ensure that myself and my guests would have a relaxing day...Or rather, they would have a relaxing day, because I had gotten out all of my stressing in the morning.
As a family tradition, we have gone to the Blue Ash Fireworks here in Ohio...Red, White and Blue Ash? Get it...(cue drum and cymbal clash). The plan was leave church, take our (fully stocked) cooler and some fried chicken, board games and other activities and spend the day outside in the nice, comfy grass, watiting to watch the fireworks.
Unfortunately, my curse had other plans...
As we left church, my dad realized that he had locked his keys in the car...ok, no big deal, 45 minutes later, AAA had us on our way. The hubs and I made use of the time and went to the store to fill the cooler, grab some snacks and delicious KFC.
Finally, we arrive at the *new* location for the Blue Ash fireworks and not only can we not bring our cooler in (NOT published on the website!) but the cool, comfy grass is nowhere to be seen, replaced by burning, skin-frying, blacktop parking lot. Add to that the discomfort of ( 3 )diabetics, ( 1) 74 year old grandmother, and a toddler, all without fresh, cold drinks that didn't cost 7 dollars...and you had some seriously uncomfortable people. My hubs, bless him, ran around like a mad man, trying to make everyone as comfortable as possible. (and when I say mad man, the poor guy literally got bruises on his shoulders from carrying everything.)
I sat there, hot, thirsty, and worried about my family, especially my son and grandmother in this heat, and was 30 seconds to tears. My husband had loved this family tradition for years, how can I tell him I wanted to do nothing but go straight back home? My son would really get to see fireworks, how can I take that away from him? My son....my blessing.
As I cooled off mentally and physically, I watched my little guy...playing in some ice and dumping water on his own head. He didn't care! He was there with his people, hanging out and having fun. As the night went on, Gavin did everything possible to make us smile, from eating his bubbles while trying to blow them, to dancing like crazy to the band's music (emphasis on like crazy! coming to a YouTube near you!) and all around being awesome. The night winds came in and cooled us down. The fireworks began. Gavin crawled in my husbands lap to enjoy the show. I watched the two of them, the centers of my world, watching their fireworks together and I thought to myself...this is worth it. This is why I stuck it out today. That little head resting on that big shoulder, with eyes and mouth opened wide as my husband pointed out each big boom...
Halfway through the fireworks show, the comfort of daddy's shoulder coupled with exhaustion took over and Gavin fell comfortably asleep...but that image of my boys staring in wonder will stick with me for a while.
Sometimes we can't plan for everything...sometimes plans fail, even when you have done all you can to succeed. Sometimes you were meant to enjoy something that's off plan. And while Im going to send the city of Blue Ash a very pointed letter about bringing back coolers and grass, I have also learned that a cursed existance can still be a blessed existance. You just have to cool off and look for the good around you.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
10 is the new 16?
I have to admit it...Im coming clean...I ...am....an...Entertainment Junkie. I have this tragic addiction to entertainment stories. For some reason, celebrity lives fascinate me, and if allowed, I could lose myself in E television about 24/7.
During one of my times of extensive(...um...ahem....)"research" into the lives of these people, I came across something disheartening...
On a jaunt through People Magazine online one day, I tumbled onto this article by a famous actress (who shall remain nameless). This actress has had issues with her "image" before, but was coming out to say how proud she was of how she looked, didn't care what the photogs thought of her and how she "loves her body exactly how it is, cellulite and all!" At first, my inner self throws up a fist pump! YES! FINALLY! we are getting advocates for Real Beauty out there!! As I read on, however, my heart began to sink. A few sentances down, this same actress who proclaimed loving her self as she was, began to detail her new, improved, hard-core workout program to get into that perfect size and "love herself for real!" B-b-but....You just said? HUH? I thought she did love herself as she was? I sat back and stared at this article for a moment and saw the ads surrounding it. Slim Fast, workout tools, and other fitness regimes slammed me in the face. So...in truth, not only is this article really NOT about loving herself as she is, but also about getting it's readers to subliminally determine that they can neither love themselves as they are, until we reach society's version of perfection. Hmmm...strategic advertising with a side of product placement, methinks...Lets be real here...there's a difference between working out to be healthy and forcing a regime to fit a mentality.
I found another article that caught my eye about a "plus size model." The article described this person as a size 10! Really Media? a size 10? Just because there are double digits does not a plus size make! I dare you to find a 10 in any genuine plus sized store....DARE....
This experience sat in my mind for a few days until last week, when I stumbled upon another article about a "Size 16 model gets engaged!" Why did the article feel it was necessary to throw her size out there? Do they shout about it when the size 2 model has a crazy life event? "HEY! This famous size double negative model gets married..." We never see that, or if I've missed it, it's not something seen often. Why does the world and media feel obligated and justified to let us know her digit? They also question the fiance, leading the reader to feel he was slightly bordering on the insane by stating..."...and we asked her fiance what it was like to be engaged to a curvy woman and he said..." What is the man supposed to say? "EGADS! She's a fatty??" As though the thought that a woman with curves finding love was an extreme concept?
Basically, my rant is this: No matter how much the social media tries to warp the concept of true beauty for women in this world, be healthy, love God and love yourself. Real beauty cannot be defined by the social media. Find whatever the beautiful is inside of you and embrace it, regardless of the size of pants you put on every day.
Chances are I'm not going to end my little indulgences into the lives of the famous...but I will be reading them with eyes opened a little wider.
During one of my times of extensive(...um...ahem....)"research" into the lives of these people, I came across something disheartening...
On a jaunt through People Magazine online one day, I tumbled onto this article by a famous actress (who shall remain nameless). This actress has had issues with her "image" before, but was coming out to say how proud she was of how she looked, didn't care what the photogs thought of her and how she "loves her body exactly how it is, cellulite and all!" At first, my inner self throws up a fist pump! YES! FINALLY! we are getting advocates for Real Beauty out there!! As I read on, however, my heart began to sink. A few sentances down, this same actress who proclaimed loving her self as she was, began to detail her new, improved, hard-core workout program to get into that perfect size and "love herself for real!" B-b-but....You just said? HUH? I thought she did love herself as she was? I sat back and stared at this article for a moment and saw the ads surrounding it. Slim Fast, workout tools, and other fitness regimes slammed me in the face. So...in truth, not only is this article really NOT about loving herself as she is, but also about getting it's readers to subliminally determine that they can neither love themselves as they are, until we reach society's version of perfection. Hmmm...strategic advertising with a side of product placement, methinks...Lets be real here...there's a difference between working out to be healthy and forcing a regime to fit a mentality.
I found another article that caught my eye about a "plus size model." The article described this person as a size 10! Really Media? a size 10? Just because there are double digits does not a plus size make! I dare you to find a 10 in any genuine plus sized store....DARE....
This experience sat in my mind for a few days until last week, when I stumbled upon another article about a "Size 16 model gets engaged!" Why did the article feel it was necessary to throw her size out there? Do they shout about it when the size 2 model has a crazy life event? "HEY! This famous size double negative model gets married..." We never see that, or if I've missed it, it's not something seen often. Why does the world and media feel obligated and justified to let us know her digit? They also question the fiance, leading the reader to feel he was slightly bordering on the insane by stating..."...and we asked her fiance what it was like to be engaged to a curvy woman and he said..." What is the man supposed to say? "EGADS! She's a fatty??" As though the thought that a woman with curves finding love was an extreme concept?
Basically, my rant is this: No matter how much the social media tries to warp the concept of true beauty for women in this world, be healthy, love God and love yourself. Real beauty cannot be defined by the social media. Find whatever the beautiful is inside of you and embrace it, regardless of the size of pants you put on every day.
Chances are I'm not going to end my little indulgences into the lives of the famous...but I will be reading them with eyes opened a little wider.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Pastor's Wife Appreciation Week....
It's about time, don't you think?...allow me to explain...
I don't know what kind of church you grew up in, or if you grew up in a church at all...From my experience, as far back as I can remember, ministry has always been a 2 person job to me. First the husband in the actual job position and then, closely by his side, his wife.
*Disclaimer, please do not read this as "If you are single, you have no bona fide ministry." This is just an observation. Those of you single out there and rocking at your ministries, keep it up*
When I was a little girl, I remember always seeing our pastor's wife, Pat right there in the front row. At the end of each sermon, our pastor would take his wife's hand and together they would leave the church and head to the doors to greet the people as they left. You could see, they were in this together. I've also seen pastor's wives in other roles throughout the church, in varied minsitries and teams. What I've come to realize is this: While the pastor himself deals with the brunt of the work, there is no support system like his wife. She is the well oiled machine, sending the emails, welcoming the people, playing with the children, volunteering to serve, leading by example, making connections, backing up everything behind the scenes that her husband portrays at the front. She is also the one keeping him going when it gets tough, she is the listening ear as he bounces another idea off of her, she is his strength.
I believe that ministry is a 2 person job, because I feel that the partners these leaders have chosen for their lives are divine choices. The most successful ministries I have experienced in my life are those who have that team. This weekend, as I was singing with the band, I observed our pastor's wife in the back of the auditorium, with a big smile on her face, and I wondered, does she know how amazing she is. How all of this would not be the same without her? I thought about the other spouses on our leadership team and how each one of them helps to shape their husband to who he is. I thought about several very close and amazing friends I have in the ministry, about all their late nights and tough decisions and hard times and how they have worked side by side to seek God's will for their families...
If you are reading this as one of the wives of ministry, this one goes out to you. Thank you for who you are and everything you do. Our lives would not be as enriched without you and your quiet beauty, your servant's hearts and your love.
If you are a person whose life has been made better through knowing one of these people, encourage them this week. Send them a refreshing reminder of how much they matter!
I don't know what kind of church you grew up in, or if you grew up in a church at all...From my experience, as far back as I can remember, ministry has always been a 2 person job to me. First the husband in the actual job position and then, closely by his side, his wife.
*Disclaimer, please do not read this as "If you are single, you have no bona fide ministry." This is just an observation. Those of you single out there and rocking at your ministries, keep it up*
When I was a little girl, I remember always seeing our pastor's wife, Pat right there in the front row. At the end of each sermon, our pastor would take his wife's hand and together they would leave the church and head to the doors to greet the people as they left. You could see, they were in this together. I've also seen pastor's wives in other roles throughout the church, in varied minsitries and teams. What I've come to realize is this: While the pastor himself deals with the brunt of the work, there is no support system like his wife. She is the well oiled machine, sending the emails, welcoming the people, playing with the children, volunteering to serve, leading by example, making connections, backing up everything behind the scenes that her husband portrays at the front. She is also the one keeping him going when it gets tough, she is the listening ear as he bounces another idea off of her, she is his strength.
I believe that ministry is a 2 person job, because I feel that the partners these leaders have chosen for their lives are divine choices. The most successful ministries I have experienced in my life are those who have that team. This weekend, as I was singing with the band, I observed our pastor's wife in the back of the auditorium, with a big smile on her face, and I wondered, does she know how amazing she is. How all of this would not be the same without her? I thought about the other spouses on our leadership team and how each one of them helps to shape their husband to who he is. I thought about several very close and amazing friends I have in the ministry, about all their late nights and tough decisions and hard times and how they have worked side by side to seek God's will for their families...
If you are reading this as one of the wives of ministry, this one goes out to you. Thank you for who you are and everything you do. Our lives would not be as enriched without you and your quiet beauty, your servant's hearts and your love.
If you are a person whose life has been made better through knowing one of these people, encourage them this week. Send them a refreshing reminder of how much they matter!
Monday, May 10, 2010
Mountains, Guitars, Margaritas, and Home
Unforgettable.
But I'll get back to that...
For anyone who has grown up in the church and discovered their own adult faith, knows how difficult it is to find a home church. You don't want to deny where you came from, but at the same time, you can see now as an adult, things that just didn't work. My husband and I took this quest seriously and took our time, but we may have finally come home. Ok, remove the may have...we are home.
We arent your typical Christians. We strive to search for relevancy instead of traditionalism. For doing life, instead of legalism. For a reason to do things, instead of "We always have". We daily admit our inperfections and use them to speak to others about Christ and how being broken vessels make us just right for His use, instead of covering them with a churchy smile.
We stumbled across 4Corners Community Church ( http://4cornerschurch.com) by *divine* mistake... In fact, the first time, we got lost getting there. Something about it though, just made us want to find it. From the moment we walked inside, it was like a chord was struck. From the greetings and smiles, to the music and message, for once it felt...real. We continued to go, and before we knew it, had fully drown ourselves in this ocean of community. This was the kind of place we belonged. The place where the hugs had meaning, where you were asked "How are you?" and they actually stuck around for the answer. This was the place where "I'll be praying for you" meant something and wasn't a passing phrase; where our son was embraced and loved and could learn about Jesus in an enviroment we knew we could trust to be on the same page with what we taught at home. This place was the place you could pour out your soul to someone and instead of judgement and criticism you found love, forgiveness and acceptance. This is the place where you can ask the tough questions about God and why bad things happen to good people and while they don't pretend to know all the answers, they will dig side by side with you to find it. 4Corners was never afraid to address the real issues and challenge you week after week to have bold Christianity, instead of sit in your seat niceties.
Getting back to unforgettable... I think the moment when we truly knew we were home was this weekend at the Leaders Retreat. A group of us went to Gatlinburg to get away for a few days. We knew everyone there fairly well, but for both my husband and I, we love going deeper with our friendships and really getting to know people. From the moment we arrived, we knew this was going to be a special weekend. On the first evening, we were watching the kids playing on the mountainside and I stood with Jill, our pastors wife. She made a comment, so simple, but so profound to me. As we watched the kids play, she mentioned to me "Just wait, in a few years, that will be Gavin running around up there with them!" I know it probably was a passing moment to her, but to me, it meant that these people had accepted us into their family and were ready to love and grow with us for a long time! We took a hike the next day with a few people and had some great memories of enjoying all the beauty around us. That night, as we relaxed under the stars, sipping some margaritas, a guitar came out and worship began. (Worship and Margaritas? I could get used to this...)
It struck me as we were all singing that this was the beginning of something deeper... These individuals, every one of them, were brought into my life for a purpose. This night was the beginning of some great and perhaps lifelong friendships, intricately interwoven through the love of Christ. These are people I knew I could go to with anything that comes my way and they will build us up and love us through it. As I looked around that night under a starry mountain sky, singing in harmony with everyone, I thought to myself, I am home. This is more than church...this is my family. I can't wait to see what God has in store for all of us and for 4Corners next. Im honored to be along for the ride.
But I'll get back to that...
For anyone who has grown up in the church and discovered their own adult faith, knows how difficult it is to find a home church. You don't want to deny where you came from, but at the same time, you can see now as an adult, things that just didn't work. My husband and I took this quest seriously and took our time, but we may have finally come home. Ok, remove the may have...we are home.
We arent your typical Christians. We strive to search for relevancy instead of traditionalism. For doing life, instead of legalism. For a reason to do things, instead of "We always have". We daily admit our inperfections and use them to speak to others about Christ and how being broken vessels make us just right for His use, instead of covering them with a churchy smile.
We stumbled across 4Corners Community Church ( http://4cornerschurch.com) by *divine* mistake... In fact, the first time, we got lost getting there. Something about it though, just made us want to find it. From the moment we walked inside, it was like a chord was struck. From the greetings and smiles, to the music and message, for once it felt...real. We continued to go, and before we knew it, had fully drown ourselves in this ocean of community. This was the kind of place we belonged. The place where the hugs had meaning, where you were asked "How are you?" and they actually stuck around for the answer. This was the place where "I'll be praying for you" meant something and wasn't a passing phrase; where our son was embraced and loved and could learn about Jesus in an enviroment we knew we could trust to be on the same page with what we taught at home. This place was the place you could pour out your soul to someone and instead of judgement and criticism you found love, forgiveness and acceptance. This is the place where you can ask the tough questions about God and why bad things happen to good people and while they don't pretend to know all the answers, they will dig side by side with you to find it. 4Corners was never afraid to address the real issues and challenge you week after week to have bold Christianity, instead of sit in your seat niceties.
Getting back to unforgettable... I think the moment when we truly knew we were home was this weekend at the Leaders Retreat. A group of us went to Gatlinburg to get away for a few days. We knew everyone there fairly well, but for both my husband and I, we love going deeper with our friendships and really getting to know people. From the moment we arrived, we knew this was going to be a special weekend. On the first evening, we were watching the kids playing on the mountainside and I stood with Jill, our pastors wife. She made a comment, so simple, but so profound to me. As we watched the kids play, she mentioned to me "Just wait, in a few years, that will be Gavin running around up there with them!" I know it probably was a passing moment to her, but to me, it meant that these people had accepted us into their family and were ready to love and grow with us for a long time! We took a hike the next day with a few people and had some great memories of enjoying all the beauty around us. That night, as we relaxed under the stars, sipping some margaritas, a guitar came out and worship began. (Worship and Margaritas? I could get used to this...)
It struck me as we were all singing that this was the beginning of something deeper... These individuals, every one of them, were brought into my life for a purpose. This night was the beginning of some great and perhaps lifelong friendships, intricately interwoven through the love of Christ. These are people I knew I could go to with anything that comes my way and they will build us up and love us through it. As I looked around that night under a starry mountain sky, singing in harmony with everyone, I thought to myself, I am home. This is more than church...this is my family. I can't wait to see what God has in store for all of us and for 4Corners next. Im honored to be along for the ride.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
The Healing Powers of Music...
Life is hard.
A simplistic statement of 3 words that for so many is filled with so much meaning. We all look back at our lives 3, maybe 5 years ago and wonder, is this what I imagined for myself? Is this what all those daydreams were about? And when it’s different from that original image, how do we deal with it?
Throughout life, we hit numerous ups and downs. Life speeds by like a race track, soars like an eagle, plummets like a rock and very rarely ever is a steady constant. I can remember discussions with my dad about my Utopia. How I saw life to be, what I thought it was going to be, before I had taken on the pressures of daily living; before the mortgage bill came in, when resources were expendable and responsibilities were few. There are strong currents of my Utopia in the life I have chosen, but there are also times where Utopia fails and is rocked by a change.
I am the type who chooses not to discuss when I feel badly about something. Consider me a bottle, a sealed vault. I would prefer to mentally pour over an issue rather than expose my soft side to anyone in the outside world. Any close friend could tell you on a day I am silent, is usually a day something is not right in my universe… As I engage with my mind in our own diatribe, music is usually all around.
I happened to stumble upon a really decent find in a bookstore a few months back. A band I knew in college and still love today, Ellery (http://www.ellerymusic.com/) was on sale. It was one CD I hadn’t yet seen of theirs and nabbed it up. It was right before I found out some very distressing personal news ( which I’m of course not going to share on here…bottles like me can’t do that, but suffice it to say, it was pretty awful) and it kind of tore me up. While entranced on a drive to work, lost deep in this band’s music, this lyric kept popping out at me
“The truth is there’ll be harder times…it’s ok to say you’re fine…”
It made me stop and think about the issues I had been facing personally. When we experience hurdles in our worlds, cracks in our Utopias, we think that’s it. It can’t possibly get any worse than this. I can’t believe THIS happened to me. But it also forces me to look back to other times, when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, and I overcame. The truth is, while this situation appears bleak, this isn’t the worst it’s ever going to get in my life. I will overcome, I will heal, and I will be stronger for it. The truth is, I can’t let myself dwell on it, because I need to be stronger for what is to come down the road, whatever hurdle that may be.
In that same bookstore visit, I picked up an older CD of Coldplay’s work, (who I also hold near and dear to my heart….my son was actually born to Viva La Vida in the hospital, if that’s any indication…) and came across the song “Fix You” on their XY album.
“When you try your best but you don’t succeed…when you get what you want, but not what you need…when you feel so tired, but you can’t sleep, stuck in reverse….
Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones and I will try to fix you…”
Again, I found myself captivated by lyrics. Growing up, no matter what blows the outside world had dealt me, home was the place of healing. Home was the place of comfort foods, warm blankets, good coffee,
healing conversation, and much, much love. Now that I build my own home with my husband and son, it amazes me how this transfers directly into my life. After a long and exhausting day, I love to hear my son call me mama and holding his warm little loveable self is a cleansing agent to my soul. The best time of my day is usually around 9:17 pm. That’s when my husband walks through the door after work and I get to throw my arms around him and melt all my stresses into his embrace. My bones have been ignited again and I can begin a new day tomorrow…Sometimes when you lose yourself in a song, you actually find yourself again.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Accepting My Lack of Perfection...
I wish I was her...
I wish I was one of those women who had it all together...you know the ones...maybe you're her. I wish I was the woman who had time to keep her house clean, bake muffins on a whim, whip up a casserole for a friend, always maintaining a clean house. I wish I was the wife who got up earlier than anyone, to take time to dress and style to perfection, the one who maintained a perfect weight, lower than her pre-pregnancy weight. I wish I was the career woman who never lost focus or was late to work because we forgot to buy diapers. I wish I was the graduate who had lived up to all the hopes and dreams she had been sent off from college on with her toilet paper mache float... I wish I was the wife who had time to cook and prep masterpiece dinners, clean my house to sparkling on a daily basis, attend women's studies, always looked flawless, could pull spare moments out of nowhere for deep conversations with friends, was never too exhausted...
I wish I was the mother who got to stay home more, catching my son's daily miracles. I wish I had a free second to develop my intrigues on all things parenting like babywearing, cloth diapering, making my own organic baby food from scratch, and teaching my son signlanguage. I wish I was the mother who didnt have to send her son to spend more hours with a sitter than he does with me in a whole week.
Instead I am the mother who barely makes it...whose house, if you arrived unexpectely, would shock you or make you laugh...if the laundry monster doesn't eat you first...whose keys are hiding in the toybox, again. Who stepped on that dang talking dog who always reminds me "I love you!" I am the wife who barely rolls out of bed in time, glancing longingly at that Windsor Pilates video, promising again, I'll start you tomorrow. Im the one who consistantly wishes she could spend time on her hair, but yet, here we are, Curly again...Im the mother who makes the mad dash into Target to buy a shirt on the way into work, because some how, between the drawer, the car and the office, something stained my shirt. Im the mom who, ashamedly, pulls into McDonalds for that happy meal, instead of packing foods in little baggies on the go...Im the wife who trips out the door as she balances her purse while trying to throw her shoes on. Im the mom who gives the finger to having the gym membership because, let's face it, mornings barely happen as it is, and I refuse to give up my precious 2 and a half hours I have with my son in the evenings to anyone else. Im the mom who would rather play another round of "Im gonna get you", Read "Baby Animals" for the zillionth time, make ridiculous car noises and hear my son's giggle than make him wait while I cleaned...
If you are the type of mom, wife, and woman I first described, please don't be angry...I dont hate you...If anything, I aspire to be like you and wish my life gave room to some of the priviledges you have. I find myself constantly comparing myself to women like you and again, feeling like I've fallen short in this whole work-life-family-marriage balance. Sometimes the very thought that I don't measure up takes me to a place so dark, it's hard to see the good among the shortcomings.
But then I realize...Im not perfect. Im not supermom. I may never be like some of the amazing women I described...but guess what. I look at my family...Im perfect for them. Im perfect for the 2 amazing men in my life. I may not always have it together, but Im trying and they are on this journey with me. We are doing life together and doing our best to love each other first and foremost. It reminds me of the story of Mary and Martha. Martha always working like crazy and others noticing her for her hard work. Mary, treasureing more of the relationship with Jesus, sitting at his feet.
For me, Im just not a Martha...and I think, Im ok with that...
I wish I was one of those women who had it all together...you know the ones...maybe you're her. I wish I was the woman who had time to keep her house clean, bake muffins on a whim, whip up a casserole for a friend, always maintaining a clean house. I wish I was the wife who got up earlier than anyone, to take time to dress and style to perfection, the one who maintained a perfect weight, lower than her pre-pregnancy weight. I wish I was the career woman who never lost focus or was late to work because we forgot to buy diapers. I wish I was the graduate who had lived up to all the hopes and dreams she had been sent off from college on with her toilet paper mache float... I wish I was the wife who had time to cook and prep masterpiece dinners, clean my house to sparkling on a daily basis, attend women's studies, always looked flawless, could pull spare moments out of nowhere for deep conversations with friends, was never too exhausted...
I wish I was the mother who got to stay home more, catching my son's daily miracles. I wish I had a free second to develop my intrigues on all things parenting like babywearing, cloth diapering, making my own organic baby food from scratch, and teaching my son signlanguage. I wish I was the mother who didnt have to send her son to spend more hours with a sitter than he does with me in a whole week.
Instead I am the mother who barely makes it...whose house, if you arrived unexpectely, would shock you or make you laugh...if the laundry monster doesn't eat you first...whose keys are hiding in the toybox, again. Who stepped on that dang talking dog who always reminds me "I love you!" I am the wife who barely rolls out of bed in time, glancing longingly at that Windsor Pilates video, promising again, I'll start you tomorrow. Im the one who consistantly wishes she could spend time on her hair, but yet, here we are, Curly again...Im the mother who makes the mad dash into Target to buy a shirt on the way into work, because some how, between the drawer, the car and the office, something stained my shirt. Im the mom who, ashamedly, pulls into McDonalds for that happy meal, instead of packing foods in little baggies on the go...Im the wife who trips out the door as she balances her purse while trying to throw her shoes on. Im the mom who gives the finger to having the gym membership because, let's face it, mornings barely happen as it is, and I refuse to give up my precious 2 and a half hours I have with my son in the evenings to anyone else. Im the mom who would rather play another round of "Im gonna get you", Read "Baby Animals" for the zillionth time, make ridiculous car noises and hear my son's giggle than make him wait while I cleaned...
If you are the type of mom, wife, and woman I first described, please don't be angry...I dont hate you...If anything, I aspire to be like you and wish my life gave room to some of the priviledges you have. I find myself constantly comparing myself to women like you and again, feeling like I've fallen short in this whole work-life-family-marriage balance. Sometimes the very thought that I don't measure up takes me to a place so dark, it's hard to see the good among the shortcomings.
But then I realize...Im not perfect. Im not supermom. I may never be like some of the amazing women I described...but guess what. I look at my family...Im perfect for them. Im perfect for the 2 amazing men in my life. I may not always have it together, but Im trying and they are on this journey with me. We are doing life together and doing our best to love each other first and foremost. It reminds me of the story of Mary and Martha. Martha always working like crazy and others noticing her for her hard work. Mary, treasureing more of the relationship with Jesus, sitting at his feet.
For me, Im just not a Martha...and I think, Im ok with that...
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Consider My Mind Blown...
Before you read this, know that I have been praying for you...
The words you are about to read are ones that were placed on my heart for somebody, somewhere and I have no idea who you are. This "moment of selah" was one that I experienced earlier this week. It was something so intimate and personal, I debated even writing about it. Yet, this morning, the Spirit moved and this post was already written in my head before I even sat here to write a word. Whoever you are, I hope you feel His love through these words...
I am an avid "blurker" of thebump.com. It is one of those "mom" type sites where you get to write about all those wonderful and yet awkward things those husbands really don't know about or want to know about...like mucus plugs and breastfeeding... :) This week, I was reading the story of a woman named Stacy who, initially was just celebrating the birth of her daughter. I stumbled upon her blog and realized that her journey began much earlier than the day her little girl was born...
Linky: sgirl79.blogspot.com
This whole site is devoted to her journey since she discovered there was something terribly wrong with her first pregnancy, baby boy Isaac. He had some trisomomies and abnormalities that would have made him either pass away while in utero, or shortly after birth. Her doctors urged her to terminate the pregnancy, but she could not do it...she could not limit God.
At the end of each post she would lift up a request to each of her readers, asking that God would miraculously intervene in the pregnancy and cure Isaac of his medical issues. Her doctors were baffled as to why she continued the pregnancy. One specialist even stated that out of all pregnancies he had seen with this medical issue, only 3 others decided to continue. She, together with her husband decided not to put their God in a box and continue with this precarious situation. The doctors warned them that, at best, they would have hours, maybe minutes with their child.
As I continued reading, I observed little miracles throughout her story. A lump on the back of Isaac's neck began to diminish, different little blessings along the way. As I read, I began to have hope for Stacy and for Isaac for a happy ending, even though I knew otherwise...
I then reached the part of the story where Isaac passes away...I had to stop reading. Even though I did not know this woman personally, I was so filled with anger at God for her situation. This woman had faith that God would do a miraculous work in her son. Instead, he was taken away from her. I couldn't imagine having a pregnancy like that. Having the strength and faith to trust in God, knowing that you may never even get to have a life with this baby at all. Pregnancy by itself is such a trying and emotional time, but to carry a child you may never even get to see grow up and knowing that truth rocked my world. Then, God brought me back to the true message of her blog...
Sixteen minutes. That's all she had with her little boy...just sixteen minutes. Instead of filling those minutes with sadness and tears, she and her husband embraced every minute they had, filling it with kisses, cuddles and pictures of their new little family, no matter how long they had it. They took hold of every second to celebrate God's gift, even though they knew he would not be with them for long.
The reason I share this with anyone who reads is to let you know we don't hold the next hour. We don't hold the next half hour...we don't even hold the next sixteen minutes. Our lives are an orchestration of the Father's hand, and even though little Isaac was here for such a short time, the inumeral amount of lives he has touched through his mother's faith and trust in God's leading is incredible. Instead of allowing ourselves to be wrapped up in the sadness and darkness of moments, we have to push through and see how God is going to use this moment for His glory, allowing Him to love us through it; not use it as an opportunity to push His love away.
I don't know if my words will make sense. Maybe it's better for you to read Stacy's journey in her own words. I just know that it is a powerful woman of God who continues to be faithful in such a mighty way. It's the kind of woman of faith I want to be. It's also an encouragement to me to continue living every moment I have with those I love, regardless of what the next moment holds.
Please know that you are loved today and that, good or bad, each day and each moment holds it's own purpose.
The words you are about to read are ones that were placed on my heart for somebody, somewhere and I have no idea who you are. This "moment of selah" was one that I experienced earlier this week. It was something so intimate and personal, I debated even writing about it. Yet, this morning, the Spirit moved and this post was already written in my head before I even sat here to write a word. Whoever you are, I hope you feel His love through these words...
I am an avid "blurker" of thebump.com. It is one of those "mom" type sites where you get to write about all those wonderful and yet awkward things those husbands really don't know about or want to know about...like mucus plugs and breastfeeding... :) This week, I was reading the story of a woman named Stacy who, initially was just celebrating the birth of her daughter. I stumbled upon her blog and realized that her journey began much earlier than the day her little girl was born...
Linky: sgirl79.blogspot.com
This whole site is devoted to her journey since she discovered there was something terribly wrong with her first pregnancy, baby boy Isaac. He had some trisomomies and abnormalities that would have made him either pass away while in utero, or shortly after birth. Her doctors urged her to terminate the pregnancy, but she could not do it...she could not limit God.
At the end of each post she would lift up a request to each of her readers, asking that God would miraculously intervene in the pregnancy and cure Isaac of his medical issues. Her doctors were baffled as to why she continued the pregnancy. One specialist even stated that out of all pregnancies he had seen with this medical issue, only 3 others decided to continue. She, together with her husband decided not to put their God in a box and continue with this precarious situation. The doctors warned them that, at best, they would have hours, maybe minutes with their child.
As I continued reading, I observed little miracles throughout her story. A lump on the back of Isaac's neck began to diminish, different little blessings along the way. As I read, I began to have hope for Stacy and for Isaac for a happy ending, even though I knew otherwise...
I then reached the part of the story where Isaac passes away...I had to stop reading. Even though I did not know this woman personally, I was so filled with anger at God for her situation. This woman had faith that God would do a miraculous work in her son. Instead, he was taken away from her. I couldn't imagine having a pregnancy like that. Having the strength and faith to trust in God, knowing that you may never even get to have a life with this baby at all. Pregnancy by itself is such a trying and emotional time, but to carry a child you may never even get to see grow up and knowing that truth rocked my world. Then, God brought me back to the true message of her blog...
Sixteen minutes. That's all she had with her little boy...just sixteen minutes. Instead of filling those minutes with sadness and tears, she and her husband embraced every minute they had, filling it with kisses, cuddles and pictures of their new little family, no matter how long they had it. They took hold of every second to celebrate God's gift, even though they knew he would not be with them for long.
The reason I share this with anyone who reads is to let you know we don't hold the next hour. We don't hold the next half hour...we don't even hold the next sixteen minutes. Our lives are an orchestration of the Father's hand, and even though little Isaac was here for such a short time, the inumeral amount of lives he has touched through his mother's faith and trust in God's leading is incredible. Instead of allowing ourselves to be wrapped up in the sadness and darkness of moments, we have to push through and see how God is going to use this moment for His glory, allowing Him to love us through it; not use it as an opportunity to push His love away.
I don't know if my words will make sense. Maybe it's better for you to read Stacy's journey in her own words. I just know that it is a powerful woman of God who continues to be faithful in such a mighty way. It's the kind of woman of faith I want to be. It's also an encouragement to me to continue living every moment I have with those I love, regardless of what the next moment holds.
Please know that you are loved today and that, good or bad, each day and each moment holds it's own purpose.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Faith and Flipping Toddlers
There is a moment in a mothers life when she finds herself scared to death for approximately 2.4 milliseconds...give or take a few.
If you have ever spent time around my husband and son when their playtime is at it's peak, you will generally see my toddler being fliped through the air, bounced off of couches, held upside down, and all other manner of insanity...now before you finish dialing the number for CPS, stop and listen for a moment. Listen for my son's belly-aching-explosion of giggledrops as he runs to his daddy and lifts his arms as if to say, "Again!!"
As a mother, I have to close my eyes sometimes while they play. It's so hard for me to trust; trust that my husband will not drop him at some crucial moment of acrobatics, or that my son, the most precious thing in the world, will not get scared and flip out in a way that their playtimes would hurt him. Sometimes, in the ways he gets tossed around, it is his absolute, reckless abandon and trust of his daddy that makes it fun and keeps him safe. This is what keeps them playing and moving as one single unit.
Our pastor today told a similar story of a little girl and her daddy. He placed her on a ledge and told her to jump into his arms. She did it every time without fail. Giggling and laughing, she would keep jumping over and over again, knowing he would catch her every time.
It amazes me the reckless abandon our children have for us. The limits to which they trust our love and responsibility for their little lives...My son has never once shown fear that his father would not catch him. He has never once asked me if he should be eating the food I serve or playing with the toys I give him. It makes me wonder if I am really putting that same kind of trust in the Heavenly Father. If he places me on a "ledge" in my life, will I just run and jump, knowing not only that he will catch me, but also that we will have a blast along the way? If the Lord were to allow me to be tossed around, would I relax and enjoy the ride or would I flip out because I am not in control?
Sometimes He tells us to jump and we refuse because we cannot, in our adult minds, wrap ourselves around the end result. He reminds us that He is there to catch us, that He has created this life for us to experience Him and enjoy it and all we can do is live in fear.
Pura Vida. Pure Life. Live a life not in fear of falling, but in the joy of living it to the fullest.
If you have ever spent time around my husband and son when their playtime is at it's peak, you will generally see my toddler being fliped through the air, bounced off of couches, held upside down, and all other manner of insanity...now before you finish dialing the number for CPS, stop and listen for a moment. Listen for my son's belly-aching-explosion of giggledrops as he runs to his daddy and lifts his arms as if to say, "Again!!"
As a mother, I have to close my eyes sometimes while they play. It's so hard for me to trust; trust that my husband will not drop him at some crucial moment of acrobatics, or that my son, the most precious thing in the world, will not get scared and flip out in a way that their playtimes would hurt him. Sometimes, in the ways he gets tossed around, it is his absolute, reckless abandon and trust of his daddy that makes it fun and keeps him safe. This is what keeps them playing and moving as one single unit.
Our pastor today told a similar story of a little girl and her daddy. He placed her on a ledge and told her to jump into his arms. She did it every time without fail. Giggling and laughing, she would keep jumping over and over again, knowing he would catch her every time.
It amazes me the reckless abandon our children have for us. The limits to which they trust our love and responsibility for their little lives...My son has never once shown fear that his father would not catch him. He has never once asked me if he should be eating the food I serve or playing with the toys I give him. It makes me wonder if I am really putting that same kind of trust in the Heavenly Father. If he places me on a "ledge" in my life, will I just run and jump, knowing not only that he will catch me, but also that we will have a blast along the way? If the Lord were to allow me to be tossed around, would I relax and enjoy the ride or would I flip out because I am not in control?
Sometimes He tells us to jump and we refuse because we cannot, in our adult minds, wrap ourselves around the end result. He reminds us that He is there to catch us, that He has created this life for us to experience Him and enjoy it and all we can do is live in fear.
Pura Vida. Pure Life. Live a life not in fear of falling, but in the joy of living it to the fullest.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
My Toddler is Profound
It never fails to amaze me how God continues to speak to me through those in my life. Sometimes when things are dark all around me, He pops these rays of sunshine known as loved ones in to remind me He's there, even when it's too painful to look for him. If my face is downcast, He gently tips it up, wipes my tears and shows me He is there...
In my last post, I shared how my life has been crazy and I have had a tough time finding my own identity again. It has made me realize I need to take moments to stop...just stand still, and the world, spinning a million miles a minute, slows down eventually too. I had just one of these moments...
In my new career, I have a very important presentation coming up. Almost a definitive item as my make it or break it proclaimation to this company. I keep working on it, fine tuning it until it all runs together, the words begin to cross, and before I know it, Im not even writing in English anymore...
G, my toddler son, a little over a year old, is starting to know me better and better. The more he becomes this "person", the more I adore him. He has such a heart for others. When kids cry in the church nursery, he's there patting them, and getting them to play. When there is laughter and happiness, he is there in the middle of it. When I have had a stressful day, he comes running with just the right smile to flip my whole mood.
My moment of Selah is through my son, yet again. Here I was, typing and stressing and second guessing, and he comes up and keeps handing me books, toys and other things. He kept trying to climb in my lap and I kept directing his attention away from me. Finally he grabbed his best pals, Mickey and Monocito,* because apparently Mama looked like she needed a friend??* and crawled next to me and SHUT MY LAPTOP! In that moment, he said so much.
I have always had this feeling about my son that he is an "old soul" and wiser beyond his years. *year??=) * I normally would have considered some kind of discipline, because he knows that's a "no no" but I truly feel he was trying to say something. Like, "Mommy, this is OUR time, remember? Play with me...just play!" Somehow in reading "That's Not My Monkey" *for the 50th time, I swear* and cuddling with my son, this amazing peace came over me.
Sometimes we get so caught up in the life around us, we forget the lives we impact. We lose fact of the roles we play in the epic stories of others. We struggle so hard to get ahead that we forget to live in the moment we have. My son was telling me to live in his moment. He was inviting me to be a part of his special little world that is only this special for so long. I don't want to miss more moments like this.
When everything spins out of motion, grab the things that are closest to your heart and invest in their moments. That investment will bring the most profound profits.
In my last post, I shared how my life has been crazy and I have had a tough time finding my own identity again. It has made me realize I need to take moments to stop...just stand still, and the world, spinning a million miles a minute, slows down eventually too. I had just one of these moments...
In my new career, I have a very important presentation coming up. Almost a definitive item as my make it or break it proclaimation to this company. I keep working on it, fine tuning it until it all runs together, the words begin to cross, and before I know it, Im not even writing in English anymore...
G, my toddler son, a little over a year old, is starting to know me better and better. The more he becomes this "person", the more I adore him. He has such a heart for others. When kids cry in the church nursery, he's there patting them, and getting them to play. When there is laughter and happiness, he is there in the middle of it. When I have had a stressful day, he comes running with just the right smile to flip my whole mood.
My moment of Selah is through my son, yet again. Here I was, typing and stressing and second guessing, and he comes up and keeps handing me books, toys and other things. He kept trying to climb in my lap and I kept directing his attention away from me. Finally he grabbed his best pals, Mickey and Monocito,* because apparently Mama looked like she needed a friend??* and crawled next to me and SHUT MY LAPTOP! In that moment, he said so much.
I have always had this feeling about my son that he is an "old soul" and wiser beyond his years. *year??=) * I normally would have considered some kind of discipline, because he knows that's a "no no" but I truly feel he was trying to say something. Like, "Mommy, this is OUR time, remember? Play with me...just play!" Somehow in reading "That's Not My Monkey" *for the 50th time, I swear* and cuddling with my son, this amazing peace came over me.
Sometimes we get so caught up in the life around us, we forget the lives we impact. We lose fact of the roles we play in the epic stories of others. We struggle so hard to get ahead that we forget to live in the moment we have. My son was telling me to live in his moment. He was inviting me to be a part of his special little world that is only this special for so long. I don't want to miss more moments like this.
When everything spins out of motion, grab the things that are closest to your heart and invest in their moments. That investment will bring the most profound profits.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
You Spin My Head Right Round, Right Round...
I feel like I have been caught in a whirlwind of insanity. From old jobs to overseas trips to new jobs to first birthdays, second first birthday parties, and holidays...oh the holidays...I literally feel like I have been robbed of Christmas...everything that made it special for me just wasnt happening. I feel like everything happened so fast. DS's second Christmas and I barely remember it...sometimes I feel like I barely remember me...
DH and I had a huge talk tonight about confidence...finding it again. Renewing in myself the things that makes me happy. Maybe I should find a good conversation with my dad over some coffee...maybe I should work out more and bring back that old body...I feel like I have spent so much time investing in my son and family and job that the old me is trapped inside of a glass box that she is screaming to be released from...I can see her, remember her, how fun and creative and silly she was...but I can't touch her...I need a giant ax of confidence to break through and get her back...We talked tonight about me listening to the bull that I tell myself...I mean, I have always had this inner not-good-enough/not as good as her debate going on, but lately I have really started listening to it and it's been a poison to my soul...a cancer to my being. I have stopped stopping to enjoy little parts of life...I feel like my mind is either a giant blank or filled with the headaches of overwhelming doubt. This dark night of the soul is not who I am. But how do I end the refrain I keep playing over and over again? How do I make it stop and hear a new song...I haven't felt freedom in myself for so long. I guess I need to realize that I can be a mom and be a wife and still be me! Just because I am a mother now doesn't mean that I automatically deny all of the parts of myself that I used to enjoy. I just have to re-prioritize...
Thank God for my husband. I continue to say that God made him for me. He knows how to keep me grounded when the poison fills my mind. He reminds me that I do have the coolest kid in the world and he wouldn't be that way if his mom wasn't pretty great herself. He renews my faith in his love for me and fills the cracks in my heart, of which I have broken myself. He, in a sense, writes love on my own arms where I would prefer to write f*** up. He sees me for all the good I am, loves me for who I was and reminds me of who I could be, should I chose to be.
Today, for me, my husband is my moment of selah. Hearing the Father whisper I am loved...
DH and I had a huge talk tonight about confidence...finding it again. Renewing in myself the things that makes me happy. Maybe I should find a good conversation with my dad over some coffee...maybe I should work out more and bring back that old body...I feel like I have spent so much time investing in my son and family and job that the old me is trapped inside of a glass box that she is screaming to be released from...I can see her, remember her, how fun and creative and silly she was...but I can't touch her...I need a giant ax of confidence to break through and get her back...We talked tonight about me listening to the bull that I tell myself...I mean, I have always had this inner not-good-enough/not as good as her debate going on, but lately I have really started listening to it and it's been a poison to my soul...a cancer to my being. I have stopped stopping to enjoy little parts of life...I feel like my mind is either a giant blank or filled with the headaches of overwhelming doubt. This dark night of the soul is not who I am. But how do I end the refrain I keep playing over and over again? How do I make it stop and hear a new song...I haven't felt freedom in myself for so long. I guess I need to realize that I can be a mom and be a wife and still be me! Just because I am a mother now doesn't mean that I automatically deny all of the parts of myself that I used to enjoy. I just have to re-prioritize...
Thank God for my husband. I continue to say that God made him for me. He knows how to keep me grounded when the poison fills my mind. He reminds me that I do have the coolest kid in the world and he wouldn't be that way if his mom wasn't pretty great herself. He renews my faith in his love for me and fills the cracks in my heart, of which I have broken myself. He, in a sense, writes love on my own arms where I would prefer to write f*** up. He sees me for all the good I am, loves me for who I was and reminds me of who I could be, should I chose to be.
Today, for me, my husband is my moment of selah. Hearing the Father whisper I am loved...
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