It's been a while

Well, there's a reason. Really. For whatever reason, I avoid this blog...OK, so I avoid this blog because I can't sit still long enough to actually "write" something I feel is "worthwhile" and I would rather blog about the days...so, until my life changes, and things slow down, and I have time to actually sit and write something of substance, my life blog can be found at fiveofus2006.spaces.live.com. I think you can click it if I can figure out how to turn that into a link. If you're actually reading because you know me...well, that's where you'll find me. If not, please don't feel you need to go there. :) Blessings!!

I attended the wedding of a friend exactly a year ago today. Now, to many who may read this, a wedding may seem everyday-ish--you attend a few every year, and they become common, but this wedding was far from ordinary. Don't get me wrong--it had all the usual pieces...the nervous bride, the scripture readings, the smiling groom, the special music, the unity candle, the pastoral prayers, the "oh, I was supposed to hold which one of her hands?" moments...but something was different. I have never seen a man so in love with a woman. I have never seen a man so moved by the woman he was marrying, so consumed with the words he spoke, so captured by the pastor's prayer, or brought to tears by "I Will Be Here." His handkerchief, tucked carefully into his pocket before the ceremony, never stayed in that pocket longer than 3 minutes throughout the journey through the order of service.

There is a part of each of us that snickers a little bit at the thought of Jay and how happy he is today. He is 35, and he so wanted to find the right girl and get married. When he met and began to date Cheri, we all saw the writing on the wall...it was as if God had dropped her right into his lap. Though I don't know Cheri well, my impression of her is that she's a sweet, down-to-earth, fun-loving girl who will balance this slightly retentive, somewhat uptight, incredibly perfectionistic man nicely. But all you have to do is watch his face when he is with her to know that he is smitten...over the moon...star-struck by Cheri. Their wedding day proved that, and even now, the fact remains. Though Cheri was moved on their day, Jay was beyond emotional.

Our Pastor's wife read a scripture passage from Ephesians during the ceremony, and I had never heard it from the Message. If you haven't read the Message before, this passage may motivate you to get a copy (or check out bible.com and plunk "The Message" in the translation box when you look up a reference).

Ephesians 5:22-28
^{22 -24}Wives, understand and support your husbands in ways that show your support for Christ. The husband provides leadership to his wife the way Christ does to his church, not by domineering but by cherishing. So just as the church submits to Christ as he exercises such leadership, wives should likewise submit to their husbands.

^{25 -28}Husbands, go all out in your love for your wives, exactly as Christ did for the church—a love marked by giving, not getting. Christ's love makes the church whole. His words evoke her beauty. Everything he does and says is designed to bring the best out of her, dressing her in dazzling white silk, radiant with holiness. And that is how husbands ought to love their wives. They're really doing themselves a favor—since they're already "one" in marriage.

Jay goes all out in his love for Cheri. We laugh at him about it because this is so unusual in our culture. He dotes on her, cherishes her, always has a protective arm around her. Do we really go all out in our love for anyone (other than our children) beyond those sweet days of courtship? I say this with some amount of cynicism, because this is where I am, and I have no doubt that someone is up in arms reading this, saying, "Hey! I still go all out and I've been married 20 years!" Interestingly, I never realized how little of this passage is actually devoted to instructing the wife--she is to understand, support, and submit to her husband. Wow. Still a big job, but read on. The husband is to lead his wife, cherish her, go all out in his love for her, speak words which evoke her beauty, bring out the best in her, and dress her in dazzling white silk, radiant with holiness, and on top of all that, to love her...and by doing so, he is doing himself a favor. I am sure that Jay and Cheri have "their moments;" those disagreements that creep in because, though crazy about each other, they do maintain their humanness. No doubt they get angry, they misunderstand, they forget to listen (or take out the trash). But their devotion to each other and the outward signs of commitment they display...these are qualities I am reminded through their relationship that I need to strive for in my own.

Yesterday, my cousin Mike and his bride, Sarah, walked down the aisle, hand in hand, after the pastor pronounced them husband and wife. They will spend the first year and 3 months of their marriage living from Ontario to Oklahoma apart. My prayer for them is that they are able to find that commitment and devotion somewhere in the mundane, everyday existence that marriage can become, even long distance...that they will discover that deeper love that God requires of us in our marriages. That they will maintain the passion they share for each other now, and delve into intimacy that goes beyond mere physical love. That they will "go all out" for each other every single day.

My prayer for me is that I can live out the same thing, ten years into a marriage, and 5 feet from the husband I chose.

Contagious Joy

"Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don't try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way. If you don't know what you're doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help. You'll get his help, and won't be condescended to when you ask for it. Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought. People who "worry their prayers" are like wind-whipped waves. Don't think you're going to get anything from the Master that way, adrift at sea, keeping all your options open."
James 1:2-8 The Message

I attended a Women of Faith Conference in Rochester this weekend on a whim. A God-inspired whim, I should say. At 9:30 on Friday morning, as I attempted to get the morning going in my house and agonized over processes like starting a load of laundry while attempting to get my children fed, dressed and piano-ed, and meals organized for two families with new babies, my phone rang. My dear friend Stacy on the other end said something to the effect of, "What are you doing today?" followed closely by something like, "You're coming to the Women of Faith conference!!" Someone who bought a ticket and paid for a hotel room couldn't go. Within 45 minutes (an hour, tops), I had myself packed, plans finalized, my children at church with my parents, and Stacy and Amy and I drove out of town. The topic of the Conference? Contagious Joy.

A long time ago, I had that.

I remember how it felt. I know that people around me thought of it as silly, maybe even ridiculous naivete. And honestly, there was a purity in that. Through high school, I had a ready smile, a hearty laugh, and a willing hug, and that, along with my waist-length, blond hair, was my trademark characteristic. It was who I was. I rested in the comfortability of that person. Somewhere in the middle of a messy relationship my freshman year of college, amidst the heartache of a boyfriend harboring a secret, and the see-saw of emotions with every weekly, long-distance conversation, twenty-two inches of blond hair was snipped away, along with a piece of that blissful innocence.

It goes away in small chunks, I think. It's not necessarily one crushing blow. You give away something you didn't intend to give--a tiny piece of your heart, a little piece of your personality, a miniscule piece of your joy. You don't see it going right away...it's not till years later as you reflect. And maybe regret. All of a sudden, you're sitting in a conference, surrounded by 14,000 women, and you catch a glimpse of the cynical, spiteful, bitter person you have become after years and years of giving away pieces of the person you were.

And you shudder. And you take a good look at that person.

I don't like her.

It has nothing to do with extra pounds, or blemishes, or irritating, growing-out, now-decidedly-brown hair (though those things I've blamed). It's not the red, stuffy nose or the unmanicured fingernails. It's the negativity. The sarcasm. The selfishness. The competitive, comparing, self-centeredness. It's the way I answer my kids when they frustrate me and the shortness with my husband when I make assumptions about his motives or judgements about his actions. My quickness to point out someone's flaws. I used to irritate people with my optimism! I can't even imagine how people see me now.

My life has shaped me into the person that I have become. I have faced "tests and challenges from all sides." My "faith-life" has shown its true colors. They certainly wouldn't paint a masterpiece. They wouldn't be worthy of the scribblings of a toddler. I sit at my keyboard struggling with where to go from here.

"So don't try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way. If you don't know what you're doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help. You'll get his help, and won't be condescended to when you ask for it. "

Mature and well-developed. Not deficient in any way. I surely don't know what I'm doing. And I've surely kept my options open. I like that control. If I keep my options open (you know, "Lord, help!! But while I'm waiting for you, I'm going to try this, because I'm not confident you're going to actually do anything."), something will happen whether God decides to step in or not. I don't even know what asking boldly, believing looks like. But now I know what I'm asking for.

Contagious joy.

Insignificant

I started praying Monday for a little girl I've never met before. This is not some uncommon phenomenon--I have done this before. But I feel strangely connected to this child. She was born on Thursday last week, with a rare (though I now know 2 children who suffer from this) condition called CDH--Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia--and as I type, she is undergoing surgery to repair the condition. Her parents are avid bloggers, so I feel like I've entered into their lives, though I've never spoken to them before.

My friend Stacy has a child who continues to battle her way through CDH and the lasting complications from that issue. My cousin has a child with Apert's Syndrome. I have three friends whose children have Down's Syndrome, I babysit a little girl with CP, I have other friends who fear their son is Autistic, friends who aren't sure what label to put on their son, and acquaintances who just found out their son has Guillain-Barre Syndrome. With every friend who announces her pregnancy, I find myself worrying (needlessly, of course). What else can we come up with? Horrible!! I worry right through the first ultrasound! As a mother, you expect yourself to worry about your own children, and I find myself worrying about all of them!

Really makes the issues I deal with on a daily basis seem very insignificant. Pitiful. My garden needs planting. My house needs a thorough deep-cleaning. My children need to play outside more and watch TV less. I need to lose 15 pounds and get my CM calendar planned. My closet needs cleaning and I need to hoe out the kids' spring clothes. I should be putting together actual stories, and I need to finish a quilt, a shrug, and an afghan I've been working on. How small. My children are perfect. My husband has a job. The trucks run, there's food in the fridge, we have clothes and cable and cell phones. I need to be thankful...desperately thankful.

my job

Over the past almost seven years, I have stayed at home and raised my children. I have come to view my life as little more than a jumble of exhausted days, all running into one another, all repeating one another, and all resulting in the same half-cleaned house, half-put-together thoughts, and mostly uncompleted projects. I wake up the next morning with a renewed feeling of exhaustion, a renewed sense of guilt over the uncompleted projects and un-checked-off to-do lists. Then I go to bed with the same sense of guilt with which I awoke. Is this what it means to be a stay-at-home mom?

Don't get me wrong, I adore my children. I love my house. I love being home, homeschooling, and homemaking. I love the feeling I have when my Lainie runs around the kitchen table, away from her dinner plate, and snuggles into my side, and when I ask her why she's up from her seat, she says, "I just needed to snuggle with you for a minute." I love that my son doesn't want to even brush his teeth without me around to giggle at him while he makes foamy faces through his toothbrush. I love that our nightly ritual isn't complete until we sing some ridiculous song that nobody else in the whole world knows (because we made it up), and then snuggle and pray and give "kisses all over my face" as Bryson calls it, then wipe them off, while hearing, "Don't you wipe off my kisses!!" (followed by more silly, sloppy kisses). And that Reasa asks, "Is it late yet, Mommy? Can we talk before we pray?" I know there are parents who would die for those moments, and they happen so often here, I can take them for granted. I cherish them. Really. It's just days like today that I question the worth of my chosen "profession."

It's when the bills come due, the paycheck runs short, the overdraft kicks in, the truck won't pass inspection, the cell phone gets shut off to outgoing calls, the freezer and pantry get a good looking over, and the arguments start. That's when I wonder why I feel so called to this staying-at-home business. If I didn't know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is where God wants me, I would seriously question my position here. I have friends who wonder how I can feel valuable at home, not working, not "doing anything" as they put it. Seth even wonders how I can feel fulfilled. Fulfilled. Like raising my kids to love learning, love each other, love other people, and love the Lord isn't fulfilling!! It's not fulfillment that I'm missing. It's finishing a project. Keeping my house clean. Keeping the laundry done. Finding my countertops. Making phone calls. Making my business work. Finding time to write. Making ends meet. Those things are strangely missing. If fulfillment only brought with it a paycheck! Now that would be fulfilling.

six year olds

What is it about six year olds?

My oldest daughter, Reasa, is six. The child boggles my mind on a moment-by-moment basis. I do not understand how one moment, she can say the most compassionate, loving, self-sacrificing thing, and the next moment, she can be screaming at me that I hate her or tell her sister she's ruining her life. Who taught my six-year-old that someone could ruin her life?

What's a bit terrifying is that in a month, I will have 2 six-year-olds in my house. How did this happen?? And regardless of the fact that they're only the same age for one day shy of a month, it's like having twins pretty much every day of the year. They go through the same stages, and they do it all together, and they just blow our minds. I remember listening to my mother talk to her friends on the phone or in my living room when I was a kid and shaking my head...how could two grownups be so obsessed with their children that all they talked about was how fast they were growing up? Didn't they have something more interesting to talk about? I don't remember the "what-am-I-going-to-do-with-my-kid" conversations, or the "please-just-tell-me-I'm-not-ruining-my-child" conversations, but I know they happened. I know because I have become my mother. When my friends drop in or call, our conversation relvolves around our children--their latest mishaps, their most recent accomplishments, broken bones, lost teeth, traumatic experiences...or ours, as they relate to our children. It's drama, drama, drama with kids. Always something to figure out, dissect, or resolve. Always something I can't figure out, overdissect, or for which I find no reasonable resolution.

So I'll continue to dissect my kids'. I'll try to figure out my six-year-olds. And my three-year-old. And pretty soon, they'll be trying to figure out theirs. Isn't this what parenting is all about?

new year, new life?

I find myself here every year. Already Tuesday, January 3rd, and I still haven't sat still long enough to make any resolutions. As always, the majority of me says, "Why bother?" I heard a report this morning claiming that most New Year's resolutions will be broken by mid-February, and they had the numbers to support it. Does it irritate anyone else that someone is sitting behind a desk somewhere making phone calls to unsuspecting Americans asking them when they gave up their resolutions last year? Why do we make resolutions each January with these far-reaching, lofty goals, and give up by February?

Well, duh.

I haven't made any resolutions for the past 4 years. I have always blamed time...three kids and a house and a husband and other commitments have been my excuse. It's easier not to think about something in addition to everything already in place. In years past I have resolved to lose weight, to work out regularly, to keep my house clutter-free...that would still be a good one. They all would for that matter. The concept of resolutions has promise, actually, if there are clear-cut, realistic goals set for them. However, I must say, it ticks me off that the diet market profits so generously around this time of year--that the end caps of aisles and the entire health and beauty department at any given store focus exclusively on the latest craze in weight loss "success," then in small print on all of the motivational commercials/packaging/information you read "results not typical." I never noticed this before a few years ago when I was so determined to lose 10 pounds on January 1st. I think I used slim fast, lost 3 pounds, got sick every day (lactose), and gave up a month later when I couldn't take the stomach cramps any more and thus, my results were then "typical." What's stupid is that I gave up on weight loss because I couldn't do the quick fix...if someone could snap his fingers and make me lose weight or organize my house or fit in exercise, I would pay him to do that. But diet and exercise and long-term tidiness goals haven't worked for me. What a ridiculous thing to say! But that's the reality...I need the quick fix. I look for the magic pill that requires no real commitment other than remembering to take the pill.

So, resolutions. I hereby resolve to write something every day except for Sundays (have to plan for School on Sundays). I hereby resolve to stick something on my blog once a week, even if it's nonsense. (Isn't most information on a blog nonsense?)(Sorry...I'm sure some of you out there write relevant, important blogs.) I hereby resolve to go to bed by 11:30 every night. I hereby resolve to make healthy eating/exercising choices this year (as soon as my baby toe heals).

Check back with me in February.