Quick heads up: For those of you who follow and are unaware, our family moved back to Michigan from Colorado towards the end of June. It has been...a summer of crazy crazy challenges, which I hope to eventually blog about. Maybe. Clearly I do not have the best track record. So. Hopefully that explains any mention of such events in this and subsequent posts.
Tonight was the first night of the Mom's group at church. I have tried this whole "Mommy Group" thing before. Once. In the end, I got a travel mug out of the deal, so it could have been worse.
Tonight was completely different. It was eye-opening in many ways, and even convicting in others. I left really excited to go back, but I also left with a lot of memories of what things were like when my own children were much smaller. It left me with a lot of stuff to think about. So much in fact, that I'm blogging now. So, here's (some of) what I would have said if I had been speaking:
The first year of Hayden and Hannah's life is not something that I look on with a sense of overwhelming stress or unhappiness. Which is weird, because there were two of them and they were even in the NICU, but when I look back and try to remember, I don't have memories of feeling sleep-deprived or up to my eyeballs in laundry and bottles. I think that for the first year of their lives, I was so grateful that they had actually made it through the whole preemie ordeal. I know now that the chaos of having twins and even the joy at their existence masked how isolated I was becoming and how little I allowed myself to cope with all we had been through.
Shortly after their first birthday, I think it all started to catch up with me. I didn't have anything outside of my children--or really even my home. I mean, I decorated cakes at Coldstone, but I actually missed Hannah's first steps due to that. Let me tell you, that did not go over well. I started to feel...angry. And resentful. And then guilty because I felt that way. So I kept it hidden. Probably not very well. For a while I just stewed about my life and how it actually kind of sucked--and then immediately chastised myself because my precious toddlers who were now getting into EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME worked really hard to be here. I bet that isn't unusual though, for preemie parents (or any mom, really) to deny feelings of just wanting to get in the car and drive away because we were the ones who wanted them in the first place, right? It was about this time that I first became aware that God was trying to get through to me, but that would have been the healthy solution. So I just stayed resentful. And bitter. And isolated myself from a spouse who was just as stressed out as I was.
Many of you who know me, or have heard my testimony, are aware that my "Come to Jesus" moment (the BIG one, I mean) happened after I had an extramarital affair. Just typing that here makes me nervous. On one hand, I know who I am now. I know what Jesus has done in my life and I know that when He looks at me, He doesn't see that. I also know that choosing not to let that define me anymore is something I can control. I cannot, however, control your reaction. Hence the creepy feeling in my belly. I think it's important to mention it though, because otherwise the rest of this post is just a shadow of the truth.
One of the things each mom talked about tonight were mistakes they had made when their children were younger. They talked about learning from their mistakes and all of the things that go with hindsight being 20/20. As a mom who makes mistakes, I can definitely relate to that.
However, in reflecting on my life as a mom when my children were toddlers, I was startled to recognize that not all things have been forgiven. At least by me. I can forgive myself for being a wife who was willing to disregard my marital vows. I can forgive myself for being the kind of "friend" that disregarded the feelings of others. One particular other, in fact (besides my hubby of course). I can even forgive myself for deliberately turning my back on God, even though I knew how desperately He was trying to reach me during that time. I can do that, because God has forgiven me. One night, very late, I carried all of that garbage to God and just left it at the cross. He took it and He even brought good out of it and now I work in ministry! That's another post for another day, though. ;)
What I struggle to forgive, however, is the type of mommy I was during that time. Sin is a gateway for even more sin, is it not? I was the kind of mommy who couldn't wait for nap time so I could get on the phone. I was the type of mommy who screamed at her husband and didn't worry about who was listening because they were little. I was the type of mommy who left as often as possible to be with someone else's family. I was the type of mommy who was so preoccupied with myself that my child had a total of four Yahtzee chips in his mouth before I realized what was going on, and to this day, I still don't know if he ever managed to swallow one. I was a mommy who took every tantrum, every accident--every bad day--as an excuse to continue what I was doing. Lots of mommies worry that they aren't being the best mommy they can be, but let me assure you, I was pretty justified in that thinking at the time.
It's strange, because at the beginning of sitting down to write this post, I thought I'd end this blog on the note of "still working on it, kind of a Debbie Downer about this right now" but I think I am totally going to go in a different direction. Because God is totally awesome and has just pointed out something incredibly cool to me. Literally right now. This is "real time" epiphany, people.
My actions were bad. I can't excuse them, and I am certainly not trying to do so now. But as another mom shared tonight, God can take anything and use it for good. So instead, looking back, I can see that the mistakes I made as a person actually led me to Christ. Which is pretty sweet just on its own. It also led to God opening my heart about my marriage and our family. I can see pretty clearly now the process that led me to the person I am today, both as a wife and mother. And friend. I'd like to think I'm a much better friend now, too.
I think I got a lot more out of tonight's group than a few laughs and some really good brownies. I think mothers do a huge disservice to themselves and to each other when we try to pretend that being a follower of Christ and a mommy doesn't allow for being overwhelmed or feeling anxious and depressed. It's what we do with those feelings that matter. I am happy to be the kind of person who looks for an outlet like a group at church for those feelings now. And honestly, it was all because God took the bad and used it for good. Who knew that my emo moment would lead to a really important God moment?! And that makes me kinda excited to go back. Even if I didn't get a travel mug this time.
"And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them." Romans 8:28 (NLT)
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Sing It Out
Yesterday, I got really good news. I mean, really good. Epic even. I sat in my car--in the rain, which by the way, totally captured the gravity of the moment--and stared at this good news. In a moment that is truly rare for me, I had no words. I couldn't think of a single thing to utter out loud, even to myself. So I did the only thing I could. I raised my hands up to the sky...and I wept.
Until the moment when I sat there with huge waves of relief rolling over me, I hadn't even realized I had been carrying a burden at all. Sometimes, and I think I may not be the only person who feels this way, I try really hard to deny stress. Christians don't need stress---we have Jesus!! And He totally said he would carry our burdens!! So put it down!! And move on!!! Right.
I started thinking of all the ways, that I (as a Christian) deal with stress. Being a believer doesn't make us immune to stress or, more aptly put, crisis. It just means we have Someone to tell. Someone who cares in a way that cannot be fully comprehended. There are starving people all over the world, wars, famine--the list truly goes on. But yesterday, in my car? God was totally there. Because He has time for all the junk that makes up this life. I read a friend's blog today that really had me pondering how I deal with the moments I'm actually aware of. You know. The Cry Out To Jesus Moments. For ease of reading, I came up with a "Top Five Things I Tell Myself/Do When Life Kinda Starts to Suck."
5. God has a plan.
Don't you want to just punch people in the face when they say that sometimes? I mean, really. Surely there are enough words in this language that we can stop using these trite little antidotes. But. It's also true. God really does have a plan. There is a purpose in suffering, even if you don't ever get to understand that purpose.
4. Why? Because you can handle it.
We used to have this friend, and I am not kidding---life just seemed way too...easy. To the point where we would have conversations about this friend late into the night. It was downright creepy. Of us, I mean. Not the friend. For a long time, I even told myself that maybe it was because this friend totally could not handle anything too hard or difficult. There are two things I eventually learned:
1. It's rude to think of your friends that way. I mean, really really rude. And chances are that there were lots of things I didn't know about that were plenty painful and difficult. So. That wasn't a great thing to learn about myself, but it was clearly necessary.
2. The stuff you're going through now...really isn't going to break you. I can't even begin to answer the "Why is this happening to me?" question. There are really well educated people on this earth who can't answer that either. But I do know that every hardship, every crisis, every single moment where I have seriously wondered how to survive a particular circumstance, I did. I survived. I usually walked out of that battle with stronger relationships too. I may not have gotten the outcome I wanted, but I walked away. And it left me strong enough to face the next moment. And the next. Hindsight, as they say, is 20/20. So when I find myself asking the Why?, it doesn't take too long to remember that for me, the easiest way to answer that question is: because you can. And He'll make sure of it.
3. Pray
God is not stupid. He already knows anyway, so you might as well tell Him.
I feel like this sort of goes without saying, but sometimes I pray for such big things that I forget about the little stuff too. Like, when I really want to pray for a winning lottery ticket because I need to pay the utility bill, when I should really pray that an actual person answers the phone at the Utility Company. This one actually worked once, by the way. I got a a real person and she restored my faith in utility workers everywhere.
2. Sing It Out
I stole this from Switchfoot. Great, great song. I have discovered that some people are just better than me at choosing words. This is especially true when I need to find a way to let God know that even though I am not happy, I still praise Him. I drove to the hospital once, tears pouring down my face (have I mentioned I cry? a lot?) and I immediately cranked the radio. Barlow Girl sang "Beautiful Ending," and I just whispered, "God is good," to myself over and over. I couldn't pray the words, so I sang them instead.
1. Jesus wept.
I am totally taking this verse out of context. But I don't care. Because those two words are incredibly powerful. Sometimes, the other four things on this list just. do. not. work. I try and try but I can't break free from the overwhelming feelings of sadness and despair. So. I just remind myself that Jesus cried. And that reminds me that my hurt is not felt just by me. There is Another who feels that hurt. There is a strange sort of comfort in that--in knowing that God doesn't just know your sadness, He feels it too.
The only thing I can really compare it to, is the day I went to Eddy's funeral. Eddy was a friend of mine from high school, and he died when he was nineteen years old. In a way that nobody should ever have to die. When that happened, I wanted my grief to just be mine. I didn't want to share it with anyone that day. I was an island. Until a friend walked up and grabbed my hand. And we cried.
So. Maybe this list isn't foolproof. But it's enough for me to know that when all other options fail, I can share that pain. All I need to do is raise my hands up to the sky...and cry.
Until the moment when I sat there with huge waves of relief rolling over me, I hadn't even realized I had been carrying a burden at all. Sometimes, and I think I may not be the only person who feels this way, I try really hard to deny stress. Christians don't need stress---we have Jesus!! And He totally said he would carry our burdens!! So put it down!! And move on!!! Right.
I started thinking of all the ways, that I (as a Christian) deal with stress. Being a believer doesn't make us immune to stress or, more aptly put, crisis. It just means we have Someone to tell. Someone who cares in a way that cannot be fully comprehended. There are starving people all over the world, wars, famine--the list truly goes on. But yesterday, in my car? God was totally there. Because He has time for all the junk that makes up this life. I read a friend's blog today that really had me pondering how I deal with the moments I'm actually aware of. You know. The Cry Out To Jesus Moments. For ease of reading, I came up with a "Top Five Things I Tell Myself/Do When Life Kinda Starts to Suck."
5. God has a plan.
Don't you want to just punch people in the face when they say that sometimes? I mean, really. Surely there are enough words in this language that we can stop using these trite little antidotes. But. It's also true. God really does have a plan. There is a purpose in suffering, even if you don't ever get to understand that purpose.
4. Why? Because you can handle it.
We used to have this friend, and I am not kidding---life just seemed way too...easy. To the point where we would have conversations about this friend late into the night. It was downright creepy. Of us, I mean. Not the friend. For a long time, I even told myself that maybe it was because this friend totally could not handle anything too hard or difficult. There are two things I eventually learned:
1. It's rude to think of your friends that way. I mean, really really rude. And chances are that there were lots of things I didn't know about that were plenty painful and difficult. So. That wasn't a great thing to learn about myself, but it was clearly necessary.
2. The stuff you're going through now...really isn't going to break you. I can't even begin to answer the "Why is this happening to me?" question. There are really well educated people on this earth who can't answer that either. But I do know that every hardship, every crisis, every single moment where I have seriously wondered how to survive a particular circumstance, I did. I survived. I usually walked out of that battle with stronger relationships too. I may not have gotten the outcome I wanted, but I walked away. And it left me strong enough to face the next moment. And the next. Hindsight, as they say, is 20/20. So when I find myself asking the Why?, it doesn't take too long to remember that for me, the easiest way to answer that question is: because you can. And He'll make sure of it.
3. Pray
God is not stupid. He already knows anyway, so you might as well tell Him.
I feel like this sort of goes without saying, but sometimes I pray for such big things that I forget about the little stuff too. Like, when I really want to pray for a winning lottery ticket because I need to pay the utility bill, when I should really pray that an actual person answers the phone at the Utility Company. This one actually worked once, by the way. I got a a real person and she restored my faith in utility workers everywhere.
2. Sing It Out
I stole this from Switchfoot. Great, great song. I have discovered that some people are just better than me at choosing words. This is especially true when I need to find a way to let God know that even though I am not happy, I still praise Him. I drove to the hospital once, tears pouring down my face (have I mentioned I cry? a lot?) and I immediately cranked the radio. Barlow Girl sang "Beautiful Ending," and I just whispered, "God is good," to myself over and over. I couldn't pray the words, so I sang them instead.
1. Jesus wept.
I am totally taking this verse out of context. But I don't care. Because those two words are incredibly powerful. Sometimes, the other four things on this list just. do. not. work. I try and try but I can't break free from the overwhelming feelings of sadness and despair. So. I just remind myself that Jesus cried. And that reminds me that my hurt is not felt just by me. There is Another who feels that hurt. There is a strange sort of comfort in that--in knowing that God doesn't just know your sadness, He feels it too.
The only thing I can really compare it to, is the day I went to Eddy's funeral. Eddy was a friend of mine from high school, and he died when he was nineteen years old. In a way that nobody should ever have to die. When that happened, I wanted my grief to just be mine. I didn't want to share it with anyone that day. I was an island. Until a friend walked up and grabbed my hand. And we cried.
So. Maybe this list isn't foolproof. But it's enough for me to know that when all other options fail, I can share that pain. All I need to do is raise my hands up to the sky...and cry.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Crazy Beautiful
***By no stretch of the imagination could this post be considered original. I am not going to pretend for a second that I am the first woman in the world to fight the internal battle of beauty. Nor am I going to pretend that I have any new answers or insights that haven't been discovered by far more wise women far sooner in their lives. Rather, this is the post I make because I have had an epiphany, however small. Also, this is my blog and I can pretty much do what I want. :) :) :) ***
The other night I found myself having a little pity party over my face. My actual face. I did not feel beautiful, in any sense of the word. So my solution was to repeat the words "you are fearfully and wonderfully made." And yeah, I took it completely out of context, but that wasn't the point. The point was to repeat it long enough that my pity and self-loathing would trigger the tears I desperately wished to cry for my poor non-pretty self.
Little tip: You don't actually get to use God's word to throw yourself a cry-fest over how non-pretty you feel. Instead of tears and sadness, that little exercise in repetition had the opposite effect. The tears didn't come, but a sense of peace did. And then--and seriously let me tell you this actually concerned me for a moment--I started to believe what I was saying. To myself. In the middle of the night. Until I realized that God was probably smacking His forehead and muttering, "That's what I've been trying to tell you!!" Well. I never said I wasn't stubborn.
I have started a new battle in my heart this week---self image vs. God's image. What began as two ideas on complete opposite sides of the spectrum are beginning to mold themselves into a much healthier view. The battle sounds a little like this:
Me: I have really short legs. That are also kind of fat.
God: You are a really fast swimmer. Mostly 'cause of those legs.
Me: What's up with this "baby weight" four years later?
God: YOU CAN MAKE ACTUAL BABIES. You're welcome.
As I've been having this dialogue, it hasn't escaped my attention that when I focus on what is beautiful about me in God's eyes, it tends not to be the physical. It tends to be things like my compassion, my sense of humor (I am hilarious, in case you were wondering), my gifts...and well, my hair. I have seriously great hair. So I guess the physical gets thrown in a little bit. What has been missing this week is the "I am not pretty" dialogue. I look at my face and I see something slightly different than in weeks before. I see excitement for life. And passion for Christ (not necessarily in that order). I see my mother's lips and my daughter's round face. I see beauty in a way that cannot be created with make up or a skin care regimen. Even better, I am starting to really like this new idea of beautiful.
My mom avoided pictures while I was growing up in the same way I do now. I hate being in them, because a flash is really not all that forgiving. I have great parents and they did/do tell me I am beautiful. I just didn't believe them. We all came to know Christ as adults, including my parents. So the opinion that mattered for me growing up wasn't God's, and it wasn't even my parents. It was me, carefully cataloging all of my various faults and using superficial high school relationships to convince myself I was pretty. Things have changed a lot since I've gotten to know Jesus, but the beauty thing has been a real stickler. And even knowing what I know now, I fear that my daughter will see herself as she grows up the same way I did. I look at her and cannot believe how gorgeous she is. Beautiful smile, beautiful eyes, the cutest little nose...she is mesmerizing. It does not escape my attention that God sees me the same way. I am mesmerizing in His eyes.
God really doesn't appreciate me slamming his awesome creation. It would be like making a cake for your firstborn and hearing them say, "The frosting's a little lumpy and your penmanship could really use some work. But hey. You tried, right?" Not cool.
So let's explore that verse in its entirety for just a second. I left out a few key words.
"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well."
Hmmm. I know that full well. After only a week of seeing myself through God's eyes, I can't really jump on the "full well" bandwagon yet. But. I am definitely getting there. The Pity Party That Wasn't has given me some great insight. Instead of asking God weird questions like, "Why do I have that one slightly googly eye?" I am working on acknowledging things like my infectious laugh and how expressive my eyes are. I won't pretend that my new found knowledge means that Hannah will never struggle with body image issues, but confidence doesn't come from Sephora. It comes from the knowledge that God knew exactly what he was doing when He created you. Fat legs and all, I am mesmerizing.
The other night I found myself having a little pity party over my face. My actual face. I did not feel beautiful, in any sense of the word. So my solution was to repeat the words "you are fearfully and wonderfully made." And yeah, I took it completely out of context, but that wasn't the point. The point was to repeat it long enough that my pity and self-loathing would trigger the tears I desperately wished to cry for my poor non-pretty self.
Little tip: You don't actually get to use God's word to throw yourself a cry-fest over how non-pretty you feel. Instead of tears and sadness, that little exercise in repetition had the opposite effect. The tears didn't come, but a sense of peace did. And then--and seriously let me tell you this actually concerned me for a moment--I started to believe what I was saying. To myself. In the middle of the night. Until I realized that God was probably smacking His forehead and muttering, "That's what I've been trying to tell you!!" Well. I never said I wasn't stubborn.
I have started a new battle in my heart this week---self image vs. God's image. What began as two ideas on complete opposite sides of the spectrum are beginning to mold themselves into a much healthier view. The battle sounds a little like this:
Me: I have really short legs. That are also kind of fat.
God: You are a really fast swimmer. Mostly 'cause of those legs.
Me: What's up with this "baby weight" four years later?
God: YOU CAN MAKE ACTUAL BABIES. You're welcome.
As I've been having this dialogue, it hasn't escaped my attention that when I focus on what is beautiful about me in God's eyes, it tends not to be the physical. It tends to be things like my compassion, my sense of humor (I am hilarious, in case you were wondering), my gifts...and well, my hair. I have seriously great hair. So I guess the physical gets thrown in a little bit. What has been missing this week is the "I am not pretty" dialogue. I look at my face and I see something slightly different than in weeks before. I see excitement for life. And passion for Christ (not necessarily in that order). I see my mother's lips and my daughter's round face. I see beauty in a way that cannot be created with make up or a skin care regimen. Even better, I am starting to really like this new idea of beautiful.
My mom avoided pictures while I was growing up in the same way I do now. I hate being in them, because a flash is really not all that forgiving. I have great parents and they did/do tell me I am beautiful. I just didn't believe them. We all came to know Christ as adults, including my parents. So the opinion that mattered for me growing up wasn't God's, and it wasn't even my parents. It was me, carefully cataloging all of my various faults and using superficial high school relationships to convince myself I was pretty. Things have changed a lot since I've gotten to know Jesus, but the beauty thing has been a real stickler. And even knowing what I know now, I fear that my daughter will see herself as she grows up the same way I did. I look at her and cannot believe how gorgeous she is. Beautiful smile, beautiful eyes, the cutest little nose...she is mesmerizing. It does not escape my attention that God sees me the same way. I am mesmerizing in His eyes.
God really doesn't appreciate me slamming his awesome creation. It would be like making a cake for your firstborn and hearing them say, "The frosting's a little lumpy and your penmanship could really use some work. But hey. You tried, right?" Not cool.
So let's explore that verse in its entirety for just a second. I left out a few key words.
"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well."
Hmmm. I know that full well. After only a week of seeing myself through God's eyes, I can't really jump on the "full well" bandwagon yet. But. I am definitely getting there. The Pity Party That Wasn't has given me some great insight. Instead of asking God weird questions like, "Why do I have that one slightly googly eye?" I am working on acknowledging things like my infectious laugh and how expressive my eyes are. I won't pretend that my new found knowledge means that Hannah will never struggle with body image issues, but confidence doesn't come from Sephora. It comes from the knowledge that God knew exactly what he was doing when He created you. Fat legs and all, I am mesmerizing.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Stuck in the Middle With You
I...am in limbo. In so many ways. Music, as if often does, has caused me to reflect recently on my life and I have come to the conclusion that my dreams and my reality have resulted in a stalemate. Let's discuss, shall we?
Colorado. Despite the fact that the winds are blowing at a truly alarming rate as I sit here typing this blog, I can admire the beauty of Colorado. Mountains, sunshine, cute little prairie dogs...I see it. It's great. Good for you, Colorado. Perhaps as I'm waving goodbye, I'll ignore your crazy libertarian ways and terrifying drivers. However, I truly hope to be saying goodbye soon. As in, yesterday. Our hearts are simply not here. This is made obvious by the fact that even my son has been known to say, "We live in Michigan." There are so many things I could be doing--and doing well, I might add!!!----in another state. That preferably does not even border Colorado. I should probably mention (in the interest of fairness) that living so close to my brother and his wife has been a blessing. I have come to realize that they are both really cool people, and her family in particular has made sure we've felt included now that my own parents are on the other side of that rather large pond known as the Atlantic Ocean.
Radio. Oh, radio. I love you. The day God introduced you into my life was a day I will never forget. The station I work for is amazing. And I am so sad that I am just a "tracker," recording a show in my room after the kids go to bed (or, far more likely, in the morning approximately half an hour before the first break is due). I have HUGE things I would love to do at that station, were I there. I mean. Epic. I miss the camaraderie of that station--the people, the listeners, I even miss sitting on the back of that convertible waving in parades, while people all wondered who I was. More importantly, I feel God has called me to work in the radio ministry. What I struggle with however, is the capacity. Right now, it is minimal, at best. I blogged a loooooong while back about sending a demo into a station here. Clearly, that did not work out or I would totally be bragging about it right now. So for now, my amazing radio station has to be enough. And the occasional skype chats with this guy. Not my total dream, but a step in that direction, nonetheless.
School. School is...cool. Seriously, kids. I like school. I am good at this whole "analyze the law" thing. However, right now I am currently paying someone else to give me the privilege of analyzing the law. And let's be honest. The stuff they're letting us do in class will probably never occur during any paralegal career I have. So...it's a good "middle," but it's that whole journey thing again. No point A reaching Point B. Yet.
My sister. My sister. How do I explain my heart when I think of my sister? She got married last Thursday, and it felt...like goodbye. Like we were sending her off into a world we could no longer be a part of. I miss my sister, and yet I never really had her. I have always envied the relationships of sisters on television. You know. The "over-sharing" types. My sister is five years younger than I am, and I believe that my lack of being awesome when she was younger has created some of my current sadness at our relationship. I find myself in this strange quasi-relationship that is neither genuine nor satisfying. I have to believe that things will not always be this way, but at this stage in the journey, I doubt my ability to forge the bond I want to have with her. To share in her life, instead of just being a distant observer. This created so much tension and sadness that it was actually quite difficult to stand as her maid of honor last Thursday. There have been many, many moments when I've had to seek forgiveness, and I am sure that this very situation will require that of me at some point. There are so many emotions wrapped up in this relationship---sadness, anger, confusion, and this unrelenting guilt that I have created this situation over a lifetime of...well, a lot of regrets. I should have been a different sister, a better sister. I know that through God all things are possible. I know it isn't too late. The struggle now though, despite my own shortcomings and responsibility, is to actually embrace the concept of forgiveness when it comes to others. Simple, right? Just...forgive. For me though, the very act of needing to forgive instead of ask for forgiveness makes me feel ashamed. Who am I to say I've been wronged? Am I really comfortable throwing stones from my glass house?
In short (perhaps you should have just skipped to this part)...I am in a moment of doubt. And I hate that. When things are amazing, I praise God like nobody's business. When things are in extreme turmoil, I hold onto God so tightly that I don't even care about the darkness--just the end of the tunnel He's promised to see me through. What is it about the mundane middle that gets me to question so much? Will I ever work in radio in the way I want to work in radio? Does God really want us here, in Colorado? Have I ignored my "true calling" by not taking a giant leap of faith? Will I ever have the relationship with my sister that I so desperately crave?
Oddly enough, it was my sister and her new husband who reminded me that God is in control. On the night of the rehearsal dinner they gave us each a gift. Inside my bag was a beautifully etched bible verse---Jeremiah 29:11. Even then, in the face of all this unrest, God called to me that night. I actually found myself tearing up as I read those precious, precious words. "I know the plans I have for you." I have to believe that God has a plan for all of this---Colorado, school, radio, and even---especially---my sister.
We're supposed to enjoy the journey more than the destination anyway, right?
Colorado. Despite the fact that the winds are blowing at a truly alarming rate as I sit here typing this blog, I can admire the beauty of Colorado. Mountains, sunshine, cute little prairie dogs...I see it. It's great. Good for you, Colorado. Perhaps as I'm waving goodbye, I'll ignore your crazy libertarian ways and terrifying drivers. However, I truly hope to be saying goodbye soon. As in, yesterday. Our hearts are simply not here. This is made obvious by the fact that even my son has been known to say, "We live in Michigan." There are so many things I could be doing--and doing well, I might add!!!----in another state. That preferably does not even border Colorado. I should probably mention (in the interest of fairness) that living so close to my brother and his wife has been a blessing. I have come to realize that they are both really cool people, and her family in particular has made sure we've felt included now that my own parents are on the other side of that rather large pond known as the Atlantic Ocean.
Radio. Oh, radio. I love you. The day God introduced you into my life was a day I will never forget. The station I work for is amazing. And I am so sad that I am just a "tracker," recording a show in my room after the kids go to bed (or, far more likely, in the morning approximately half an hour before the first break is due). I have HUGE things I would love to do at that station, were I there. I mean. Epic. I miss the camaraderie of that station--the people, the listeners, I even miss sitting on the back of that convertible waving in parades, while people all wondered who I was. More importantly, I feel God has called me to work in the radio ministry. What I struggle with however, is the capacity. Right now, it is minimal, at best. I blogged a loooooong while back about sending a demo into a station here. Clearly, that did not work out or I would totally be bragging about it right now. So for now, my amazing radio station has to be enough. And the occasional skype chats with this guy. Not my total dream, but a step in that direction, nonetheless.
School. School is...cool. Seriously, kids. I like school. I am good at this whole "analyze the law" thing. However, right now I am currently paying someone else to give me the privilege of analyzing the law. And let's be honest. The stuff they're letting us do in class will probably never occur during any paralegal career I have. So...it's a good "middle," but it's that whole journey thing again. No point A reaching Point B. Yet.
My sister. My sister. How do I explain my heart when I think of my sister? She got married last Thursday, and it felt...like goodbye. Like we were sending her off into a world we could no longer be a part of. I miss my sister, and yet I never really had her. I have always envied the relationships of sisters on television. You know. The "over-sharing" types. My sister is five years younger than I am, and I believe that my lack of being awesome when she was younger has created some of my current sadness at our relationship. I find myself in this strange quasi-relationship that is neither genuine nor satisfying. I have to believe that things will not always be this way, but at this stage in the journey, I doubt my ability to forge the bond I want to have with her. To share in her life, instead of just being a distant observer. This created so much tension and sadness that it was actually quite difficult to stand as her maid of honor last Thursday. There have been many, many moments when I've had to seek forgiveness, and I am sure that this very situation will require that of me at some point. There are so many emotions wrapped up in this relationship---sadness, anger, confusion, and this unrelenting guilt that I have created this situation over a lifetime of...well, a lot of regrets. I should have been a different sister, a better sister. I know that through God all things are possible. I know it isn't too late. The struggle now though, despite my own shortcomings and responsibility, is to actually embrace the concept of forgiveness when it comes to others. Simple, right? Just...forgive. For me though, the very act of needing to forgive instead of ask for forgiveness makes me feel ashamed. Who am I to say I've been wronged? Am I really comfortable throwing stones from my glass house?
In short (perhaps you should have just skipped to this part)...I am in a moment of doubt. And I hate that. When things are amazing, I praise God like nobody's business. When things are in extreme turmoil, I hold onto God so tightly that I don't even care about the darkness--just the end of the tunnel He's promised to see me through. What is it about the mundane middle that gets me to question so much? Will I ever work in radio in the way I want to work in radio? Does God really want us here, in Colorado? Have I ignored my "true calling" by not taking a giant leap of faith? Will I ever have the relationship with my sister that I so desperately crave?
Oddly enough, it was my sister and her new husband who reminded me that God is in control. On the night of the rehearsal dinner they gave us each a gift. Inside my bag was a beautifully etched bible verse---Jeremiah 29:11. Even then, in the face of all this unrest, God called to me that night. I actually found myself tearing up as I read those precious, precious words. "I know the plans I have for you." I have to believe that God has a plan for all of this---Colorado, school, radio, and even---especially---my sister.
We're supposed to enjoy the journey more than the destination anyway, right?
Thursday, August 19, 2010
The Neurotic Mommy Post.
There are so many things they don't tell you about being a parent.
1.Kid are hilarious. Often, perfectly timed to embarrass you.
Case in point: We went swimming a few weeks ago, and Hannah announced four seconds after we got down there, that she needed to use the bathroom. Slightly exasperated, I said, "Can't you just pee in the pool like every other kid?" Rest assured, I took her back upstairs so she could use a proper bathroom. Just a few days after that, my mom took the kids swimming at her complex's pool. It was pretty hot, so several people were enjoying the refreshing water. Hannah felt it was the perfect time to inform my mother quite loudly that "Mommy taught me how to pee in pool!" Needless to say, I spent a little time explaining that one to my mom.
At dinner the other night, Hayden was trying to share some news with us, and was (once again) interrupted by Hannah. He got up from the table, sans pants (that's another story) and marched down the hall. We could hear him singing something that sounded a little like, "Why am I such a misfit, I am not just a nitwit. You can't fire me, I QUIT!" For those of you that don't know, that's a lovely little ditty from "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." His song choice was creepily appropriate for his mood.
2. Other kids can be cruel. And it will possibly break your heart more than your child's.
We went to a party recently, where a slightly older little girl was going to be "hosting" with her parents. Hannah was beside herself at the opportunity to play with this little girl and her friends. A short time before we were getting ready to leave, I heard Hannah calling for help from upstairs. When I went to investigate, I found her locked in a room. By a gate. That was not the other child's room. Meanwhile, Other Girl, as she will now be known, was playing in a room with her other friends. My mind immediately tried to figure out how it was that Hannah came to be in a room alone with a gate, if she was completely unable to operate said gate. She didn't notice how completely she had been left out, and in the grand scheme of things, this event is so tiny it should be laughable. But it still stings my heart in such a way that I find myself unable to actually talk about it. So I'll blog it instead. I worry though, that the reaction I've had to that event leaves me completely unprepared to deal with what's coming in the lives of my children. Those moments that don't go unnoticed by innocent hearts, but permanently etch themselves in, creating tiny fissures that I will be unable to repair.
3. People say they grow up way too fast. They're not being truthful with you.
It's much faster than they say. It's the blink of an eye that leaves you staring pathetically at baby clothes in Target, wondering if maybe you should just have one more little addition to the family. Then you remember the "pee" incident at the pool and you come to your senses. Time goes so fast that you somehow end up the library, pawing through adolescent parenting books in an attempt to get ahead of the game. I spend far too much time obsessing over how I will handle having teenagers than any sane person should. Even as I'm telling myself to knock it off, because I'm about to miss something far more precious--their childhood.
I am confident in my abilities to handle a growing son. Boys are "easy" as they say. I am worried that attitude will cheat Hayden out of important life lessons and even empathy. I am determined to treat his self-esteem just as carefully as I plan on treating Hannah's.
I worry that my daughter will grow up with a skewed body image, not just because of what she sees in the media, but because she will not see me in many of the photo albums. She will secretly wonder, as I did, if that's because the very mother who assures her that beauty is more than skin deep, was ashamed of the way she looked. She will be right. So this week, I took a big step. I put a picture of myself on Facebook as the profile pic. Granted, Hannah's in it. But it's all about baby steps. And I am not foolish enough to believe that I can teach her that she IS fearfully and wonderfully made if I do not believe that of myself.
4. There will be days where you would rather be anything than a parent
These are the days you will sort of stink at parenting. You will be sitting on the computer playing The Sims 3 or Facebook-stalking your friends, and your child will walk up to you covered in chocolate. They will be smiling when they say, "I need to clean my hands." You will then find chocolate all over your house, because they have literally eaten an entire pan of brownies. Naturally, you'll blame your children on this day for your shady parenting skills.
They will lock each other in rooms with doors you can't open, and you will end up taking the knob off. They will push each other and tell you things like, "Well, I don't love you." You will be appalled--even afraid--at the anger they can incite in you. You may even seriously consider getting in the car and driving away. This is the point when you're going to want very much to text or talk to a friend, and if you're as blessed as I have been, you will have another amazing mom laugh and give you excellent advice on how NOT to kill your children.
And then, you'll pick them up from Sunday school after church. Your son will say, "I'm Hayden, and God made me special." You'll remember how desperately you asked God for a chance to stay home, to not miss any part of their growing up. And you'll realize that you really do worry too much. Because as long as you continue to give them access to a relationship with Jesus Christ, and they continue to remind you that "God made me special," there really isn't much to worry about at all.
Until you see the masterpiece they've created out of crayons and markers on the wall.
“See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.
(Matthew 18:10 ESV)
1.Kid are hilarious. Often, perfectly timed to embarrass you.
Case in point: We went swimming a few weeks ago, and Hannah announced four seconds after we got down there, that she needed to use the bathroom. Slightly exasperated, I said, "Can't you just pee in the pool like every other kid?" Rest assured, I took her back upstairs so she could use a proper bathroom. Just a few days after that, my mom took the kids swimming at her complex's pool. It was pretty hot, so several people were enjoying the refreshing water. Hannah felt it was the perfect time to inform my mother quite loudly that "Mommy taught me how to pee in pool!" Needless to say, I spent a little time explaining that one to my mom.
At dinner the other night, Hayden was trying to share some news with us, and was (once again) interrupted by Hannah. He got up from the table, sans pants (that's another story) and marched down the hall. We could hear him singing something that sounded a little like, "Why am I such a misfit, I am not just a nitwit. You can't fire me, I QUIT!" For those of you that don't know, that's a lovely little ditty from "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." His song choice was creepily appropriate for his mood.
2. Other kids can be cruel. And it will possibly break your heart more than your child's.
We went to a party recently, where a slightly older little girl was going to be "hosting" with her parents. Hannah was beside herself at the opportunity to play with this little girl and her friends. A short time before we were getting ready to leave, I heard Hannah calling for help from upstairs. When I went to investigate, I found her locked in a room. By a gate. That was not the other child's room. Meanwhile, Other Girl, as she will now be known, was playing in a room with her other friends. My mind immediately tried to figure out how it was that Hannah came to be in a room alone with a gate, if she was completely unable to operate said gate. She didn't notice how completely she had been left out, and in the grand scheme of things, this event is so tiny it should be laughable. But it still stings my heart in such a way that I find myself unable to actually talk about it. So I'll blog it instead. I worry though, that the reaction I've had to that event leaves me completely unprepared to deal with what's coming in the lives of my children. Those moments that don't go unnoticed by innocent hearts, but permanently etch themselves in, creating tiny fissures that I will be unable to repair.
3. People say they grow up way too fast. They're not being truthful with you.
It's much faster than they say. It's the blink of an eye that leaves you staring pathetically at baby clothes in Target, wondering if maybe you should just have one more little addition to the family. Then you remember the "pee" incident at the pool and you come to your senses. Time goes so fast that you somehow end up the library, pawing through adolescent parenting books in an attempt to get ahead of the game. I spend far too much time obsessing over how I will handle having teenagers than any sane person should. Even as I'm telling myself to knock it off, because I'm about to miss something far more precious--their childhood.
I am confident in my abilities to handle a growing son. Boys are "easy" as they say. I am worried that attitude will cheat Hayden out of important life lessons and even empathy. I am determined to treat his self-esteem just as carefully as I plan on treating Hannah's.
I worry that my daughter will grow up with a skewed body image, not just because of what she sees in the media, but because she will not see me in many of the photo albums. She will secretly wonder, as I did, if that's because the very mother who assures her that beauty is more than skin deep, was ashamed of the way she looked. She will be right. So this week, I took a big step. I put a picture of myself on Facebook as the profile pic. Granted, Hannah's in it. But it's all about baby steps. And I am not foolish enough to believe that I can teach her that she IS fearfully and wonderfully made if I do not believe that of myself.
4. There will be days where you would rather be anything than a parent
These are the days you will sort of stink at parenting. You will be sitting on the computer playing The Sims 3 or Facebook-stalking your friends, and your child will walk up to you covered in chocolate. They will be smiling when they say, "I need to clean my hands." You will then find chocolate all over your house, because they have literally eaten an entire pan of brownies. Naturally, you'll blame your children on this day for your shady parenting skills.
They will lock each other in rooms with doors you can't open, and you will end up taking the knob off. They will push each other and tell you things like, "Well, I don't love you." You will be appalled--even afraid--at the anger they can incite in you. You may even seriously consider getting in the car and driving away. This is the point when you're going to want very much to text or talk to a friend, and if you're as blessed as I have been, you will have another amazing mom laugh and give you excellent advice on how NOT to kill your children.
And then, you'll pick them up from Sunday school after church. Your son will say, "I'm Hayden, and God made me special." You'll remember how desperately you asked God for a chance to stay home, to not miss any part of their growing up. And you'll realize that you really do worry too much. Because as long as you continue to give them access to a relationship with Jesus Christ, and they continue to remind you that "God made me special," there really isn't much to worry about at all.
Until you see the masterpiece they've created out of crayons and markers on the wall.
“See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.
(Matthew 18:10 ESV)
Just once, I want to finish something. Other than a season's worth of a show on Netflix.
On Monday, I start classes. Again. This will be my fourth attempt at college. Yes, fourth. I have changed my mind a hundred times since that first attempt, and this time I have settled on the paralegal program--for two reasons. 1) It takes about a year to complete, which is just short enough that I should be able to stay interested, and 2) It's one of those jobs that is just important enough that you can convince yourself that you are doing something to change the world, but without the kind of commitment required that keeps you from doing the things you want. Like being with your family. And watching all 9 seasons of The X Files.
I have this tendency to identify HUGE dreams and goals. I get really excited about it too. I plan out, in detail, how I can accomplish these things. There are lists involved, copious amounts of research, and lots of deep talks with my husband and my parents.
When I was 18, I was going to major in vocal music at Western Michigan University. I didn't even go to the audition for choir once I finally arrived on campus. In fact, I only lasted on campus for just shy of a month. It was like an extended summer camp. I quickly moved on to Education, English/Creative Writing, and at one point I seriously considered Political Science so I could go to law school.
When I was 25, I convinced everyone who would listen that I was going to learn how to play the guitar. I pictured myself in coffee shops and churches, playing acoustic versions of meaningful songs and singing away. I learned two chords and took one lesson. Recently, the guitar made its way back to Michigan with a dear friend who promised to give it to someone with more commitment than I seem to possess. Most recently, I bought a sewing machine, though I am not even capable of fixing a button. I'm sure you understand my husband's fear.
Going back to school is a test. I want to see if I finally have what it takes to stick with something and follow through. I want to finish it, so I can show all the people who've been waiting for years that I AM capable of all those wonderful things they said about me.
I wonder what would happen if my 28 year old self could tell my 18 year old self, "You know all those goals you have? You will not actually accomplish a single one." I hope that after seeing the disbelief and tears in my younger self's eyes, my more "mature" self would have the decency to say something reassuring like, "The other things, the goals you haven't created yet but will achieve, will almost make up for all the things you thought you'd do." Except, of course, for school.
I have books. I have pencils. I have little folders--but no Trapper Keeper. I have a flash drive waiting for assignments. And I have a grim--yes, grim--determination to finally follow through.
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Corinthians 9:24
On Monday, I start classes. Again. This will be my fourth attempt at college. Yes, fourth. I have changed my mind a hundred times since that first attempt, and this time I have settled on the paralegal program--for two reasons. 1) It takes about a year to complete, which is just short enough that I should be able to stay interested, and 2) It's one of those jobs that is just important enough that you can convince yourself that you are doing something to change the world, but without the kind of commitment required that keeps you from doing the things you want. Like being with your family. And watching all 9 seasons of The X Files.
I have this tendency to identify HUGE dreams and goals. I get really excited about it too. I plan out, in detail, how I can accomplish these things. There are lists involved, copious amounts of research, and lots of deep talks with my husband and my parents.
When I was 18, I was going to major in vocal music at Western Michigan University. I didn't even go to the audition for choir once I finally arrived on campus. In fact, I only lasted on campus for just shy of a month. It was like an extended summer camp. I quickly moved on to Education, English/Creative Writing, and at one point I seriously considered Political Science so I could go to law school.
When I was 25, I convinced everyone who would listen that I was going to learn how to play the guitar. I pictured myself in coffee shops and churches, playing acoustic versions of meaningful songs and singing away. I learned two chords and took one lesson. Recently, the guitar made its way back to Michigan with a dear friend who promised to give it to someone with more commitment than I seem to possess. Most recently, I bought a sewing machine, though I am not even capable of fixing a button. I'm sure you understand my husband's fear.
Going back to school is a test. I want to see if I finally have what it takes to stick with something and follow through. I want to finish it, so I can show all the people who've been waiting for years that I AM capable of all those wonderful things they said about me.
I wonder what would happen if my 28 year old self could tell my 18 year old self, "You know all those goals you have? You will not actually accomplish a single one." I hope that after seeing the disbelief and tears in my younger self's eyes, my more "mature" self would have the decency to say something reassuring like, "The other things, the goals you haven't created yet but will achieve, will almost make up for all the things you thought you'd do." Except, of course, for school.
I have books. I have pencils. I have little folders--but no Trapper Keeper. I have a flash drive waiting for assignments. And I have a grim--yes, grim--determination to finally follow through.
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Corinthians 9:24
Sunday, June 27, 2010
After only one week of not working, I find myself completely at a loss for things to do. Don't get me wrong--there's plenty to be done--parks, library, swimming, laundry, house cleaning, but no matter how much I accomplish in a day or even afternoon, I feel...lost. Without a purpose. Waiting for something. Something big.
This is not a pity blog. Well, okay, it is (at least for today) a pity post. I am sort of disappointed. Having reached the (non)milestone of 27 1/2, I really thought my life would look different at this point. At the risk of blatantly plagiarizing another's words, it is, as they say, the Summer Of My Discontent. Or at least the week.
We have lived in Colorado for just shy of a year. In that time, we have become much closer to my parents, found (and left) jobs, had minor medical emergencies, huge financial crises, and one weekend that forever changed the shape of our marriage and faith. We've managed to dig ourselves out of tons of situations, only to have more crop up. The ONLY thing that keeps me going is hope. Hope that the purpose will be revealed, hope in a Savior who provides constant comfort, encouragement, and guidance despite the mess, and hope that at some point, we'll stop playing at being grown-ups and give the real thing a try.
There are so many things to be thankful for and look forward to. I am finally going back to school to complete a course of study. I have a demo going in to another radio station out here in Colorado, and maybe (just maybe) an actual teaching job is opening up where Adam is currently employed. I've been able to enjoy some time with Hayden and Hannah that I had previously been only too happy to give up for that almighty dollar.
And yet, there is this tiny little voice back there. The one that says, "You're floundering, you're lost. You have no idea where things are going in your life, and you pretend to raise children while you figure it out." On some days, that voice is louder than anything I can say back to quiet it. And it leaves me feeling not only lost, but completely alone.
So I cling to the Hope. That quiet but strong voice that says, "You are not alone. I am here." And I listen to that voice, despite its volume, because that is the Voice that speaks the Truth. So for now, I'll just keep clinging to that Hope. I've never been the most patient person, but there is some joy in waiting. Watching your kids figure out how to swim simply by being in the water. And finally, FINALLY, hearing a tiny voice calling your name, because it no longer feels strange to them that you are there-- guiding, playing, watching, and enjoying the brief moment of time when your help is still needed. When you, in fact, are still needed. And that quiet but strong voice reminds you that for now, there is more than enough purpose in that.
For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11
This is not a pity blog. Well, okay, it is (at least for today) a pity post. I am sort of disappointed. Having reached the (non)milestone of 27 1/2, I really thought my life would look different at this point. At the risk of blatantly plagiarizing another's words, it is, as they say, the Summer Of My Discontent. Or at least the week.
We have lived in Colorado for just shy of a year. In that time, we have become much closer to my parents, found (and left) jobs, had minor medical emergencies, huge financial crises, and one weekend that forever changed the shape of our marriage and faith. We've managed to dig ourselves out of tons of situations, only to have more crop up. The ONLY thing that keeps me going is hope. Hope that the purpose will be revealed, hope in a Savior who provides constant comfort, encouragement, and guidance despite the mess, and hope that at some point, we'll stop playing at being grown-ups and give the real thing a try.
There are so many things to be thankful for and look forward to. I am finally going back to school to complete a course of study. I have a demo going in to another radio station out here in Colorado, and maybe (just maybe) an actual teaching job is opening up where Adam is currently employed. I've been able to enjoy some time with Hayden and Hannah that I had previously been only too happy to give up for that almighty dollar.
And yet, there is this tiny little voice back there. The one that says, "You're floundering, you're lost. You have no idea where things are going in your life, and you pretend to raise children while you figure it out." On some days, that voice is louder than anything I can say back to quiet it. And it leaves me feeling not only lost, but completely alone.
So I cling to the Hope. That quiet but strong voice that says, "You are not alone. I am here." And I listen to that voice, despite its volume, because that is the Voice that speaks the Truth. So for now, I'll just keep clinging to that Hope. I've never been the most patient person, but there is some joy in waiting. Watching your kids figure out how to swim simply by being in the water. And finally, FINALLY, hearing a tiny voice calling your name, because it no longer feels strange to them that you are there-- guiding, playing, watching, and enjoying the brief moment of time when your help is still needed. When you, in fact, are still needed. And that quiet but strong voice reminds you that for now, there is more than enough purpose in that.
For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11
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