Posts filed under ‘Being a Mom’
Dirty Dishes and Forever Friends
Corvallis. It seems to be the hot spot destination for people lately. Tonight we made the scenic trek to the Beasley’s new (and super fun!) house in Corvallis for an inaugural BBQ and hang out time.
Five families, accounted for by 10 adults and 14 kids, gathered and ate yummy food and played and caught up on the ins and outs of life these days. As the evening wore on and families started the hustle to pack up before the meltdowns began, a few of us did dishes and kitchen clean up together. It made doing dishes enjoyable for the one time out of 150 that it seems we do them during the week. Natasha and I laughed as Meredith suggested half-jokingly, half-seriously that this is why communal living is so intriguing. We laughed because we had just talked about that a couple of weeks ago, so yes, we agreed.
(There really is something to the strength in numbers, yet purposefully simple type of living situation that intrigues me. But that’s for another time and conversation.)
Now home tonight, my heart is refueled. I say “refueled” because I know that much like a gas tank, that it will soon be depleted again. No, this is not a negative statement; it’s just true. The journey of life, the grind of every day living, is predictable yet purposeful and it is what it is. There is wear and tear, yet there is always something redeeming about the season or the circumstances, so I embrace it much like my c-section scar. Well, I am learning to embrace it. Sometimes the embrace is a hug, sometimes it’s a little more like I am having some wrestling move performed on me and I am pinned to the mat.
My season lately has been more like being pinned to the mat instead of running with open arms toward everything in life. (The exception of course is my sweet baby Seth and my boys. There is much more literal and metaphorical hugging there.)
Overall, life has felt defined by more change than I am comfortable with, and more on the way. Change of community, relationships, teams, connections, purpose and place. Time with our familiar community not only filled me up, but also gave me reason to pause and think about the future.
As I poked around in Kareena’s new kitchen putting familiar serving dishes and spoons away in new drawers and cabinets, and the young kids were underfoot and squealing as they ran through the house, I saw a picture in my mind of her daughters in this kitchen, but older. I first thought, “Yes, this is their home now for the many decades to come.” And in my mind I saw almost 6-year-old Ava as a stunningly beautiful teenager. And then I thought, “I hope she knows me when she’s this beautiful teenager.” And then I declared to myself, “Yes, we’ll be here.”
Such an idea had come up at dinner as we all were simply together, just being, laughing, sharing – living. Eric said how soon enough the kids will be self-sufficient to just run and play and then we adults really can just lounge on the deck and do whatever it is that you do as an adult without the invisible umbilical cords that still connect you to your highly dependent small toddler children.
So evidently it’s more than just me that pictures us being friends for many years to come. I’m so thankful for that tonight. In the midst of all of this change for so many of us, I’m thankful to picture a future where we are all connected and present in each other’s lives.
I’m hopeful that one day we’ll look at the pictures from tonight and say, “Oh look at that! That’s from before you went to Africa! That’s from right before Tenley/Ava/Quinn/Allie started Kindergarten, can you believe it? That’s from before _____________ happened! Wow, that’s before ______________ happened, too! Look how big and beautiful the kids are!”
And instead of those fill-in-the-blanks being circumstances of pain or loss (or exorbitant weight gain ☺ ) those blanks will be filled in by some of the best memories we will recall. We have some amazing days, years, behind us – the days of getting to know each other, births and babies and becoming the adults we are now. But hopefully what is before us will enrich and fill us and affect us for the better just as I would say that the years behind us have.
Tonight my heart is refueled and my mind can see a future that I want to embrace, even knowing that there will be wear and tear in order to get there.
And waiting for me tomorrow is my sink filled with dirty dishes, but oh well. Such is life for now.
Advent vs. Real Life: Round 2
Round 2 of Advent vs. Real Life begins with Getting the Christmas Tree (The Almost a Complete Disaster Debacle). I just wanted to get a Christmas tree last Saturday. Not too complicated, right? Not too strange of a desire on December 5th? We borrowed the truck, bundled up, and headed up the hill to our favorite spot to cut the tree…the same place we always go. (Ahhh, there’s the key word: “always.” It is the cue for Plan B to be set in motion.)
“Oooops. We forgot the saw. Oh well, Ray (the property owner) always has a saw on hand to help.” Up the hill we go. To the lot we pull in…and oh…there’s a chain with a lock blocking the entrance and no sign of Ray. Hmmm. We look longingly at the trees just sitting there, all peacefully rooted in the ground.
Ray's Christmas Tree Lot: CLOSED
“Where do we go next? I have no idea. Do you have an idea? I saw a sign down the road…” Oh hang on you are calling your mom and getting 14 different ideas while the boys begin the “Where are we going? What are we doing?” distress signals. (Tension building.)
Skip said tension and jump ahead to finding a new lot to get a tree where “U Pick, We Cut’ thankfully. Oh look! I asked the boys to smile for a picture and little C goes back to stand next to brother to have their picture taken! This never happens!
Wow! They are both smiling in my general direction!
The selfish mother I am asked for more. (Dun Dun Duuunn.) Next picture (in much better lighting mind you) involves big brother putting little brother in a headlock and slamming him to the ground, head first. Yes, I was snapping a photo at the beginning of the moment.
Ugh.
The next 10 minutes involved soothing, consoling, the use of the words “ridiculous” and “awful” unfortunately said aloud too many times, a quick finding of the tree by me while Dad and big brother were in timeout, an agreement that this tree would work, a cutting, payment and hoisting into the truck. Follow this with screams of pain from little brother as we put him back in the carseat. The 5 minute drive home determined the need to go to Urgent Care because little brother wasn’t moving his right arm. Just like the time he got “Nursemaids Elbow” last year. So, forget the afternoon of the family being at home together for a much needed change of pace and family time, and Plan B included Family Time in the small cramped room of Urgent Care while kind Dr. Cal checked out little brother. Yes, I made big brother come on the sad adventure because I wanted him to see the pain his younger brother had to go through, especially if anything was broken, because I am so.tired. of big brother’s use of physical force on little brother. And there was no way big bro was staying home having fun with Dad while little brother was dealing with all this. Consequences, my dear child, consequences.
Fortunately for all of us, the second try of reattaching the elbow tendon or whatever it is called worked, and within minutes, my little man was restored. Nothing broken. No x-rays needed, just a painful and awful-to-watch twist and bend of the arm. Not to mention it was now 2 o’clock and smack in the middle of what would have been naptime and lunchtime was already missed because Urgent Care is a 45 minute drive from home. Consequences, dear me, these are the consequences of life with children.
Yes, my mind had visualized a day of fun, togetherness, doing Christmas-y things as part of celebrating and preparing for Christmas, but apparently, togetherness and “making Christmas memories” involves Urgent Care this year.
Hello Urgent Care
Both elbows in working order...
Anger
I am sure that if I put a little effort into it, I could have come up with some quip or witty title for this blog post. Instead, I’m opting for a brain-dump-ish type post, a “write this down before I forget” and revisit it later thing.
I’m once again amazed and humbled by my nearly 5 year old son figuring life out. He’s a smart one that little E. Smart and sassy. Smart and defiant. Smart and more smart. Here’s today’s story. This morning I had to run by my office to drop off some receipts. I needed to go to the main office to fill out the paper work, so I decided to pretty much lock the boys in my office while I hustled down the hall to get it done since they were having some ‘listening & obeying’ issues in staying with me. I said, “I need 5 minutes. Play with the trucks, read books, color, sit in the chairs…whatever, just take care of each other and STAY IN HERE.” I just needed 5 minutes, right? While I’m standing at the copier I hear the shrieking and screaming of little C. Shrieking and screaming from the small one means the big one did something. It’s a given. And he did. So, 30 seconds into my 5 minutes I went back down to the office and sure enough, big one is aggravating small one. So, I remind him of his responsibilities and leave again. One minute later, I hear screams again. Oh come on. I walk the 50 feet back to my office and say, “Really?” (Yes, I’m awful and sarcastic to my children sometimes.) Yes, really. So I say, “Okay, I’m taking C with me and you are going to stay here by yourself. I want to leave soon, too, but we can’t if I can’t get this done. You stay here and I’ll be back in 2 minutes.” There were tears and anguish at the unfairness of it all, that brother got to go with me and “WHY CAN’T I COME TOO???” “Well honey, I need to see that you can be a good listener when we come here and so far today you’ve run away from me two times. So, you have to stay here so I know you are safe and not getting into things.” Sure enough, I was back in 2 minutes and we started to gather ourselves to leave.
As toys were being put away I noticed on the floor the little plastic end piece that goes on the cord for my window blinds. Hmmm. “How did this happen?”
“I pulled it off.”
Hmmm. “Why did you pull it off?”
“I was angry.”
“What were you angry about?”
“I was angry because I had to stay in here.”
(I love the honesty in this moment.)
“I understand that, but it still doesn’t mean you can break things, especially things that aren’t yours.”
And here’s the stop-me-in-my-tracks question:
“So what should I do when I’m angry?”
Um, are there any super-parents out there who would like to take over this conversation now? Anyone? Bueller?
I told him that is a really, really great question and that I would think about it because I am so proud of him for asking it, and I think it’s an important question. I told him I know that there are times we have to do things we don’t want to do and it’s not fun, but we are going to keep talking about this anger thing. Oh my gosh, I’m raising boys. Smart boys. Boys that are going to kick my butt, because I suppose I get to think about this as more than an answer or conversation where we talk about it, but I’m going to have to live out my reply. Yowza.
A Very Good Day
It’s a little silly that I haven’t been here for awhile. This morning I noticed a similar trend in my journal, my last three journal entries were March 2nd, April 2nd, and now, today, May 2nd. Hmmm. Just a coincidence. (For all my friends who love LOST as much as I do, if that is even possible, then maybe we could come up with a theory about why those numbers…)
Who, What, Where, When & Why
I haven’t blogged in about forever. I have come, I have written, but I just haven’t hit “publish.” There have been far too many incomplete sentences…
So, in my determination to reemerge in blogland, I figured I would just start with the basics of what life has been about lately…
Back in February, Calum turned 1. The kid is a firecracker and a cuddlebug wrapped wonderfully into one long, lean little body. (93rd percentile, for height. Yeah…wait, what?) Oh, but we had to celebrate belatedly and multiple times, because he had a 102 fever on his birthday, along with an ear infection. Plus Eli had spent the week battling croup, a fever of 104 that lasted 3 days and ear infections in both ears. Ugh. Our first celebration included eating ice cream after watching the GFU girls complete their undefeated regular season with my family. Then we celebrated ‘for real’ with friends, cupcakes, and a treasured Thomas balloon the following weekend…
Calum turns 1! He's happy! He's not! (He's sick.)
Lets see…did I mention that there was sickness? That feels like it has been the “what” of the last couple of months. I have been to the doctor’s office three times and once to urgent care. Fun times! It seems as if every mom I have talked to has been dealing with some sort of persistent, frustrating, isolating sickness with their kids AND themselves. I truly think that there is nothing worse than feeling like staying in bed all day long with drugs, tissues, warm drinks and warm blankets and knowing that your kids actually need all that and then some more comfort and care so it’s just NOT. GOING. TO. HAPPEN.
This is just sad.
So yes, I have been sick. And the boys were sick. They got prescription medication. I bought more NyQuil, DayQuil, Peppermint Tea and Ibuprofen. Then we started to get better. Then Calum’s cough got worse. Then after the medication was dispensed, Eli complained of another earache and randomly slept one Sunday from 1pm until 8pm, then back to bed at 9pm. (And I missed a concert date with Nate.) Then Eli was fine. Then I got a sinus infection. Then Calum got another 104 fever and another ear infection, in each ear this time. Now more medication. (That comes complete with ‘explosive diaper’ side effects.)
Okay, okay. Done whining.
Lets focus on the positive.
I have been having some wonderful date nights with my husband. He has been lovingly persistent through the course of the last four years of having children about us making date nights a priority. I think the importance of time together, away from the house, away from dishes or diapers or distractions has been something that I haven’t always grasped. Plus, I admit to being the kind of person who longs for ‘just me’ time, so when given the opportunity to get out, sometimes I just want it to be me. Not only does he give me this time, but he also makes a big deal about wanting to hang out with me! It’s amazing. (He still likes me!) I do just want to say to any moms who might be dragging your feet, making excuses, battling with insecurities, or just plain forgetting about spending quality time with your husband: make the time. Even if it is a trip to DQ for the Blizzard of the Month and sitting in a parking lot of the nearest park, just go. And then do it again, soon.
Speaking of dates. It has been a basketball week for us. Nate’s dad bought us NCAA tickets to the first and second round games that have been here in Portland. And to top it off, those incredible George Fox girls are the national champions with an undefeated season. We’ve been to a lot of the home games this year, and spent the last week watching them online in the tournament. It has been fun for our family, fun with our friends and breathed some excitement into our community where sometimes the ‘work’ part of life is discouraging. I love watching team sports (except Tiger and Rafael Nadal) for so many reasons, but especially watching people work together, trusting each other, relying on each other and not only accomplishing something great, but then getting to celebrate together. And I also celebrate knowing that behind every team of players and coaches are spouses, families and friends, who support, encourage and sacrifice. It’s just a nice mix of entertainment and inspiration for my little mind!
Speaking of something else inspiring. The new U2 album, No Line on the Horizon. I know there has been much said about this old band, this newish sound, the publicity stunts, etc. This is one of those things that if you don’t agree with me about, I really don’t care. I love this music. I love Bono’s lyrics. (Added bonus: I like being able to listen to it while I work out. There’s a time and place for classics like “With or Without You” but how can you deny the goodness of “I’ll Go Crazy if I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight”?) Oh those Irish boys make me happy.
Anything else worth sharing?
Not much else at this ridiculously late hour. I’ve been out of my groove in some ways, like blogging or pausing to think and reflect – some of my favorite things to do, but difficult while medicated or sleep-deprived or holding a small child. Yet I once again come to appreciate that I think I’m a pretty blessed woman. I am looking forward to spring, a new season…it is always refreshing to see some new life and bright color emerge after a grayish winter (and stuffy noses and ear infections.)
The “S” Words
Here it goes again, some sort of inter-connectedness in the blogosphere. I write in the middle of a day where I have errands to run, a meal to prepare for part of our small group gathering tonight and two small boys to care for. A busy day, but a good day. And what is the subject for tonight’s small group with three other couples? “Simplicity” – as we have been reading through Richard Foster’s “Celebration of Discipline” and studying each theme through the book and corresponding scripture. And what just popped up as the topic over at The Mommy Revolution? A conversation about a book that focuses on rest, the Sabbath and simplicity. Yes, interesting timing indeed.
So first, where does the idea of a Sabbath come from? Oh that’s right, the Ten Commandments. The commandments that happen to list both observing a Sabbath and not worshiping any other gods (as well as a few other oh-so-important things.) Interestingly, in Exodus 31, it is also where Moses received the instructions for building the Tabernacle. I am inspired by the connection between the theme of worship and this reinforcement of the idea of a necessary rest or Sabbath. Exodus 31: 12-13 says, “Then the LORD said to Moses, “Say to the Israelites, ‘You must observe my Sabbaths. This will be a sign between me and you for the generations to come, so you may know that I am the LORD, who makes you holy.”
I am created and called to worship, to the point that my acts of worship include creating and constructing and doing (just as the Israelites were put to work creating the Tabernacle). But I see two warnings given in the commands about worship, to not worship false gods and to observe a Sabbath. BOTH of those things will glorify God and both of those things will make it so that I know that the Lord is God.
Apparently, I am the one who first needs to rightly acknowledge, believe and act as if God is God and I am not. A day of rest, a day of not doing all the things that I ‘need’ to proudly cross off my to-do list is one of the most significant ways that I can teach myself about the proper ordering when it comes to me and the Creator God of the universe, the Keeper of all space and time. Okay, so I guess I can ease up a bit on my trusty little governing notebook filled with my lists, goals, projects and ideas.
So, observing a Sabbath has ultimately the same effect on my life as the choice and actions of worshiping false gods. For me, in this case, the false god that I am worshiping when I do not observe a day of rest (from the notebook) is ME. Whether it is a control issue, a self-sufficiency issue or an identity issue, all depends on the day and the circumstance, and sometimes it is an unholy mixture of all three. If I am too tightly bound to whatever it is that I need to accomplish and do with my time, I not only find myself exhausted, crabby, unfulfilled and discouraged, but I ultimately do a severe disservice to my children and my husband and any other person who I have a relational impact on. At that point, I am no longer modeling living a life set-apart for God, but I am actually refusing to ‘know’ the Lord the way that He wants me to know Him.
I already have enough control/self-sufficiency/identity issues to work through. This is one significant area where I can make a choice to simplify in action, which in turn helps break through some nasty, unhealthy thought habits. I had a friend tell me once (and that’s all I needed for it to stick in my brain): “We don’t even think of committing murder, so why would we disregard the commandment about resting and taking a Sabbath?” I have thought many times since about this and the power of what I pass on to my kids. I will tell them how bad it is to murder, lust, worship power-money-false gods, but I will live a life of no-rest-all-productivity before them? That’s just not going to work.
So my husband and I choose days to not clean up the toys scattered about the house, to not fret about dinner and eat pancakes, to stay in our pajamas until 3pm, and to step away from the Type A personality habits that otherwise drive our days. This has helped me enormously in the last year after the birth of my second son. These simple outward steps help me overcome the huge mental hurdles that resist such perceived “unproductiveness.”
In stealing from Jim Collins “Good to Great”, sometimes Nate and I will say to each other when frantic discouragement starts to set in, or on days where one of us starts looking about with a bewildered sense of “must do, must do, must do” (think Gollum and his precious):
“So you have a lot on your to-do list. What’s on your NOT to-do list?”
Often times, the first answer will be “I do not need or want to stress and freak out if one or two things that I want to do does not actually get done.” Of course, it is always easier said than done. But, truly it helps in hovering near sanity. (And then it frees me up to impromptu blog posts, too.)
I know that much of the discussion for moms can be about taking care of children and the demands of maintaining a sense of order and well-being for our homes. We all have different standards of what defines chaos, or even survival for that matter. But I think that ultimately, we can all find areas of our life where we can abide by the defined terms for rest. My version of rest is going to look much different than someone who doesn’t have small children in the house, or who is single, or who is living in retirement. But, I just have a hunch that since it is part of God’s original commandments (which were pre-technology, pre-industrial age, pre-television) that He can lead us to a place of rest that fits each of us just right whether it is physical, mental, emotional or spiritual.
Rest:
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1. |
the refreshing quiet or repose of sleep: a good night’s rest. |
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2. |
refreshing ease or inactivity after exertion or labor: to allow an hour for rest. |
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3. |
relief or freedom, esp. from anything that wearies, troubles, or disturbs. |
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4. |
a period or interval of inactivity, repose, solitude, or tranquillity:to go away for a rest. |
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5. |
mental or spiritual calm; tranquillity. |
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6. |
cessation or absence of motion: to bring a machine to rest. |
During December’s Arctic Blast, I had the pleasure of absorbing myself in the book “Eat Pray Love”. I have already tried to convince you to read it, but in case you haven’t taken the hint, I will end by borrowing a page from that book, during a time when the writer, Elizabeth Gilbert is living in Italy.
“(My sister and I) were taught to be dependable, responsible, the top of our classes at school, the most organized, efficient babysitters in town, the very miniature models of our hardworking famer/nurse of a mother, a pair of junior Swiss Army knives, born to multitask. We had a lot of enjoyment in my family, a lot of laughter, but the walls were papered with to-do lists and I never experienced or witnessed idleness, not once in my whole entire life.
Generally speaking, though, Americans have an inability to relax into sheer pleasure. Ours is an entertainment-seeking nation, but not necessarily a pleasure-seeking one. Americans spend billions to keep themselves amused from porn to theme parks to wars, but that’s not exactly the same thing as quiet enjoyment. Americans work harder and longer and more stressful hours than anyone in the world today. But as Luca Spaghetti pointed out, we seem to like it. Alarming statistics back this observation up, showing that many Americans feel more happy and fulfilled in their offices than they do in their own homes. Of course, we all inevitably work too hard, then we get burned out and have to spend the whole weekend in our pajamas, eating cereal straight out of the box and staring at the TV in a mild coma (which is the opposite of working, yet, but not exactly the same thing as pleasure). Americans don’t really know how to do nothing. This is the cause of that great sad American stereotype – the overstressed executive who goes on vacation but who cannot relax.
I once asked Luca Spaghetti if Italians on vacation have that same problem. He laughed so hard he almost drove his motorbike into a fountain.”
“Jump Up and Down” Good
I am a passionate person, and I wouldn’t say that I am reserved, but I am also a grown woman who doesn’t usually jump up and down to show my excitement or enthusiasm for something in particular. “Jump up and down good” is my reference point since that is what I see/hear/feel my four year old do quite often to express his complete delight at ________ (insert: approval of a household wrestling match/a trip to the beach/being told he gets to spend the night at Grandma’s house, etc.))
I see it because there is flailing involved. I hear it because squeals and shouts accompany it. I feel it because we have hardwood floors and the place shakes when 35 pounds of boy jump.
So it doesn’t necessarily have to be jumping up and down for everyone, but it’s something like that, some sort of physical, mental, emotional take-over of your whole being that represents you agreeing (in all of those ways) with something else outside of you. For me “jump up and down” good means it’s really, really good. The kind of good that gets me so excited that I want to share it and make the floors shake so you can know that I mean good.
Wow, so that’s a lot of build up, right???
Right.
But see, I’ve had two jump and down good moments in the last 24 hours and they both came from something I read. So since I read them, I can share them, which is what I am dedicating this post to…I guess it’s my way of squealing and shouting “YOU’VE GOT TO READ THIS AND THINK ABOUT THIS AND ISN’T IT PROVOKING AND THOUGHTFUL AND INSPIRING AND AFFIRMING…” and all that kind of stuff. Yes, ALL CAPS because remember, I am jumping up and down.
(Deep breath, exhale….whew.)
Yes. I really like reading and I especially like reading things that stir up my brain and heart simultaneously. For me, this type of convergent inspiration is more rare than I would like it to be. (Cheers to smart people who can say things that need to be said, for starting conversations and for taking time to think about and then articulate some truths really well!)
First one: “Is Motherhood a Calling?” over at The Mommy Revolution.
Second one: “Small Wonders” by Tom Sine over at Leadership Journal.
One last thing. I know that these two articles meant a lot to me because of what I have been spending a great deal of time thinking about as well as writing about lately. As I enter my seventh year of being on staff at our church, I have never been so passionate and ready for something to unleash, some specific conversations to collectively be had, for some bold steps of action and faith to be taken and for some things in our community to be shaken up yet realigned. (And it’s starting, but that’s all for another day’s post.)
So I read the “Small Wonders” article last night (so did my husband) and Nate and I looked at each other with smiles and big eyes and I wanted to jump up and down. It’s inspiring to me when God reminds me that He’s in charge and He’s the one blowing through this place (“this place” being His church, my brain, other people’s brains, other communities, etc…) and I’m excited because I am actually catching some of what He’s saying and doing.
So take that and add to it that today, I shared with one of our pastors my 7 page (10 pt. font, single space except between paragraphs) “Ministry Calling Evaluation” where I was asked to describe the kind of “Call” I have to ministry. It’s a document Nate and I both have been working on (individual papers, though) for the last two months. Heck yeah I talk about being a mom and wife and if a call is to a circumstance/role/vocation or a way of life! So then tonight, I read this post and I had a “jump up and down” kind of moment again.
I don’t expect you to jump and down with me, but that’s the great thing about jump up and down moments. The jumper doesn’t care what anyone else thinks because the jumper is only concerned with the reason for jumping with excitement in the first place.
I hope you have a reason to jump sometime soon. It’s invigorating.
— And here’s a freebie just in case these articles are yawners: I also read the book “Eat Pray Love” (finally) last month. If that doesn’t hit the spot, then I don’t know what else to say. Good luck to you. —
Pondering these things in my heart
We read the “classic” version of the Christmas story this morning. (Luke 2) How many times have I heard this particular version, where there is no room in the inn, there appears a heavenly host, there are stars and shepherds, mangers and one woman’s beginning of motherhood.
The new mother part is what is sticking with me this Christmas morning as one child naps and the other is playing Clue Jr. with his Daddy.
I gave birth this year, after four days of labor, which included two trips to the hospital, little food, even less sleep and one triumphant delivery of my second son. I have a birth story, and it has very low lows and unforgettable moments of perseverance and strength (sometimes my own, often that of others.) But there are plenty of other details to the four days of labor, which include intensity and pain, contractions, baths, bathroom business, tears, blood, needles, blood pressure cuffs, monitors, cords, heartbeats, charts, nurses, dear friends, family, cameras and two wonderful midwives.
Mary, she had her dear fiance Joseph. And maybe a stable boy? Probably some sort of group of travelers that were making their way to Bethlehem, which hopefully included some family members. Most likely some animals were in near proximity, and most definitely their unsanitized trough.
How long had she been having contractions?
Who was there to hold her hand? (I mean seriously, how involved do you really think men were during birth back then? )
What about towels or water or pillows?
Where did she lie down and rest afterward?
Did she tear? Who ‘caught’ the baby? What about the umbilical cord? What about the messy part of delivery? Was she able to breastfeed him right away or was she in agonizing pain and exhaustion?
Birth is so intense. Imagine how much more for a young, unmarried, traveler who had encountered angels, experienced a miraculous conception, and probably had a glimpse of the enormous responsibility ahead of her…let alone simply being a first time mom.
I wonder what those birth moments were like for her. I wonder what the moments afterward were like.
I cried, my husband cried, we inhaled the newborn smell and nuzzled tiny ears and fingers. Time felt slowed down yet as if it was moving so quickly around us as we were congratulated and fed and physically attended to. There was little sleep initially as adrenalin and pure joy coursed through us, and soon we were surrounded by family and friends who came to celebrate with us.
This morning, we read how the shepherds quickly followed the word of the angels to visit this new baby, Christ the Lord. So Mary and Joseph had visitors, too. But they didn’t know each other beforehand. I wonder how that encounter went, did they mention angels or stars? What did Mary and Joseph think as these shepherds arrived, “And so it begins???”
But what about that time right after Jesus’ birth, before the shepherds arrived? Was there a holy stillness in the stable? Was there a sense of peace and joy? You know those moments when it feels like God’s presence is thick and tangible, did it feel like that? I mean, obviously they were holding Jesus, so that is pretty ‘tangible’ but was there something even more to it? As I think about it, I bet there was. And I hope for this brave little family, that it lasted hours rather than minutes. I hope it gave them peace and encouragement that what they had faced was nothing compared to the triumph that had occurred through their obedience intertwined with the presence of God.
I hope there is a day where I can hear the unabridged version of this story. (After all, I always love love love hearing birth stories.) But for today, I will let my imagination roam freely as I ponder stories and moments in my life of experiencing the gift of Emmanuel, God with us.
my best friend supporting me
Superhero Adventures
Random blog post warning in effect.
Last night we watched “The Dark Knight.” The night before we watched “Hancock.” Within the last few weeks we also watched “Ironman” and “The Incredibles.” There is a recurring theme…yes, we seem to watch a lot of movies (it goes in phases). The recurring theme I am referring to happens to be about superheroes.
Last night, I wondered what that was, why were choosing superhero movies. I think it is a bizarre combination of morbid fascination (Heath Ledger), reviews of strong writing and theme development (I concur to an extent), good acting, and we didn’t want too much of a downer. (I know, there is a bit of irony there since most superhero movies have a ‘villian’ who tends towards massive amounts of murder. No downers there, watching a hospital blow up or anything…right? Riiiight.)
Anyway. No downers, just some well-directed entertainment. I thought about it some more today though as I checked a few blogs while confined by ice in my house and struggling with lack of motivation issues. I then noticed another recurring theme in the blogs I happened to read…maybe because these people had recent posts. The blogs I got sucked into all are from people having adventures. (The Macys are three months into their around-the-world adventure. The Smiths are five months into their Bangor, Maine adventure. There are new moms and past co-workers and friends returning from Disneyland.)
It made me think…why have I been sucked into stories about superheroes and adventures? I could go all analytical here. I could delve into some self-exploration about my self-worth or need to be appreciated or how much I wish I could be Mrs. Incredible. (Seriously, I love her powers and how good she looks in her little red outfit.) Then to state the obvious I could say that some of the recurring things in my life have been feeling a bit too much like being on a treadmill facing a wall. I know the work of mothering is supposedly paying off, but it sure seems to be the same scenery day-in, day-out.
But then, as soon as I feel myself heading down the slippery slope of discontenment, Eli asks me a question this afternoon:
“Do cows have penises?”
Yes, Eli the boy cows do.
“And the Daddy cows, too, Mom.”
Yep, them too.
“Does the milk come out of the boy cows penis?”
“Umm (pause simply to try to contain the laughter)…nope. The milk comes out of the cows udder.”
“Oh, it looks like a penis.”
Yeah. Yep. Sure. It does. What made you think about this Eli?
“Curious George.”
Okay. Thanks PBS Kids.
Anyway, sometimes I can feel judgemental and protective of moms. I think being a mom can be so incredibly undervalued, misunderstood and written off as a role that keeps one out of touch with the rest of the world. Sometimes, I think I contribute to this by my own need of validation outside of anything that has to do with being a mom or wife. It’s not that I don’t see myself as anything except mom and wife, it’s actually that sometimes I place too high of value on so many other things that the place these two unique roles have becomes undervalued. Does that makes sense?
It’s like, I don’t want a “mom haircut” and I want to color my hair, so I kind of freaked out when I couldn’t get my hair colored. (Because somehow, if I colored my hair the way that I want to color my hair, I will then have the appearance of not just ‘letting myself go’ physically and I will prove that I am still in touch with current styles.) That’s me: judgmental, shallow and vain about hair.
This last week, I read “I Was Told There’d Be Cake” by Sloan Crosley, who is actually younger than me. She’s smart, she’s witty, she is the kind of funny where you laugh out loud and then read the paragraph to under-amused husband -funny. Oh, and she’s into recreational drug use. So I was impressed and annoyed at the same time. She’s published. But…I hate drugs.
She didn’t have a ton of adventures. Sure, she lives in NYC which has the instantly cool factor thing going for someone. She just observed life and actually has been quite a bit of an idiot, yet she owned it, so that makes it a little better. But I read about her life. And it made me laugh. And it entertained me, and she doesn’t have any superpowers or crazy scarred villians she’s fighting off to save humanity.
Do I appreciate my life? Do I value the roles I have? Do I recognize the simple yet profound moments of influencing the lives of my children as I live out my days before their little eyes and minds? Am I preoccupied with future or past occurrences that somehow (mis)represent fulfillment?
My mother-in-law is nearing the end of her four months of chemotherapy treatment for Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. (It’s worth reading her online journal entries as she has shared moments of this journey.) I have shared a few different times to various people how there is some sort of irony, or incongruity between what is expected and what occurs, in this journey with cancer. She is technically diagnosed as Stage IVb Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. The cancer was growing everywhere in her lymphatic system, including her bone marrow. Treatment began almost immediately upon diagnosis, as doctors used words such as “aggressive” and “widespread.”
The ironic part is perhaps what many cancer patients before have expressed, but it isn’t obvious to people on the outside looking in or Hollywood for that matter. One of the other movies we watched this year was “The Bucket List” – the one where Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson set out to have all sorts of adventures and once-in-a-lifetime experiences before they ‘kick the bucket.’ Somehow I get the feeling that so many people are waiting for life to happen to them, waiting for a certain set of circumstances or opportunities or experiences to really feel alive. What is feeling alive anyway? Is it one of those things that is uniquely defined by each person? Probably. Is it an experience in a few amazing moments and then is it over?
Some of the transformation I have seen in my mother-in-law, and some of the transformation I have experienced in our family since this diagnosis has been evidence of truly living. And the stuff I am thinking of are times of honest conversations, shared dreams and fears, birthday parties and laughter and watching Tina Fey impersonate Sarah Palin. I am talking about simple dinners and prayers shared. I am talking about Eli praying for Jesus to make Grandma feel better.
These are my adventures.
Oh, and for the superhero moments…I pushed another human being out of my body after four exhausting days of labor in February. I also have been dealing with potty-training, irregular sleeping habits, and making sure that two children are living and growing. And I work for our church. And I really care about my work, so I give a lot of mental and physical time and energy to it. And I am committed to having a better marriage year #8 than the past 7, and I hope that year 9 is even better…so in otherwords, I am doing my best in putting time into my marriage because I think that a strong marriage is about as undervalued as moms sometimes.
Anyway. I said random blog post warning, I guess I should have said “EXTENDED” random blog post warning.
(Sorry if you don’t get my humor, just watch the local Portland news during winter weather. I know, I can be a bit of a dork.)
30 Things (#5 & #6)
Okay, sometimes things come together in the most unexpected ways.
#5: Don’t scoff at how or where there might be an opportunity to learn or receive truth. I tend to “like what I like” when it comes to things like food (i.e. certain brands of maple syrup, cheese, bread, coffee, etc.) and music. (I’ve been called a music snob, and I’ve never taken that as an insult.) I just like what I like and tend to not give much time and thought to music that I don’t like. How does this all tie in to point #5? Hang on.
Not scoffing at where or how I learn or receive truth is a pretty important area of growth for me. If I were to say that I can only learn in a certain ‘type’ of church or I don’t learn in church, I only hear God’s voice in nature, or if I were seeking parenting advice or marriage advice, I will only seek out certain people of a certain train of thought…etc., I would most likely be close minded. (And there is a difference between seeking out and following what ‘advice’ or ‘truth’ is given. That is about trust and discernment.) My point is about whether or not I live my life closing off my ears to disregard what God might want to say to me through unexpected people, circumstances, environments, etc. Recently it happened while I watched “The Incredibles” and I felt the Holy Spirit tugging at me to pay attention to one of the lessons being taught. But that’s another story for another time.
Don’t scoff. Have open ears to hear.
Today, I was watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, because that is what we do Thanksgiving mornings, partially to kick it into holiday gear and partially to laugh at all the lip syncing. Anyway, Trace Adkins was on (sponsored on the Jimmy Dean float nonetheless – is anyone who actually knows me laughing yet?) and he sang his apparent hit, “You’re Gonna Miss This.” I say apparent, because I DON’T LISTEN TO COUNTRY MUSIC. I don’t know Trace Adkins, and I don’t really plan on knowing anything more than his name and this song’s lyrics. This is my example today about why scoffing or having closed ears sets me on course for missing what God is wanting to say and speak to me. (Truly no pun intended.) The song lyrics caught my attention because the chorus literally captures the essence of what I describe as my #6 lesson of the year.
#6: Stop living for the future. This really resonates with where I can find myself dwelling mentally, especially when it comes to dreams, plans and day-to-day parenting young children.
You can look up the full song lyrics for yourself, but here’s the chorus:
You’re gonna miss this
You’re gonna want this back
You’re gonna wish these days
Hadn’t gone by so fast
These are some good times
So take a good look around
You may not know it now
But you’re gonna miss this
So that’s all to ponder for now. I know that I have spent plenty of time blogging about my tendencies toward anticipation, mother’s guilt, and a whole lotta other stuff that has to do with wrestling through present circumstances.
Today is Thanksgiving. Maybe it’s time to celebrate that no matter what the circumstances, no matter what things feel unfulfilled or uncertain, no matter what the perceived ruts are that I think I am trapped in…it’s time to remember and be thankful that these are some of the ‘good times’ that I will miss when they are over. I know it in my heart, but sometimes I guess my mind needs a little dose of country music to make sure things are all in sync with God’s truth. (I never, ever would have thought myself to say “need” and “country music” in the same sentence. Wow.)
