The inside of my head is not a place I want to be right now.
It's whiny in there.
I'm having a really difficult time figuring out what's actually bothering me - because chances are good that it's not any of the minutiae buzzing around my brain like obnoxious little mosquitoes.
I've been swatting at them - and every once in awhile, I kill one or two. But quite a few have managed to get in a nice little bite, and suddenly I'm trying not to itch. And - ohmygranny - once I start scratching, things go downhill quickly.
The mosquito bites inside of my head are telling me all kinds of things about myself and what I'm not doing. What I can't do (for various reasons), what I should be doing, and what's keeping me from those things. They're telling me about the people around me - who cares and how much and how I can tell just from what is done/said and what is not done/said. They're chattering nonsense about needing and deserving and right and wrong and on and on...
I'm feeling all kinds of things that are, quite honestly, based entirely in this world - this broken world with my self-centered self caring too much about earthly things and not enough about the eternal.
I want to do all things without complaining or arguing (Phil. 2:14) and I know that if I am the victim/witness of actual sin, I am called to restore my brother gently and carefully (Galatians 6:1)... but I often find those to be difficult lines to walk.
Right now... I want to be held accountable - to put my struggles in the open and not hide them, and allow others to restore me gently.
In the meantime - you may just find me sitting around, staring at my mosquito bites, trying not to scratch, and munching on the cheese that came with my whine.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
no use crying over spilled...
Some days I feel a bit full. On the verge of overflow, to be exact. Rather like a cup that might "runneth over" - but not in the best way. In the "I'm Not Sure How Gracefully I Can Handle One More Challenging Thing Today" kind of way.
I imagine adding ice cubes to a drink... the level of the liquid rises a bit with each cube. Add too many too fast - and the drink will spill over the top. It's inevitable.
Yesterday felt like one of those days:
We started out with a really rough night - very tired mama and very tired girls. (clunk-clunk... a few ice cubes)
Girls who had both started coughing - out of nowhere - in the middle of the night. (clunkety - clunk... a couple more)
Poor, fussy, teething Meriel - just didn't feel like herself all day (clunk)
Hazel's running a low fever (clunk)
A wet-pants accident in the high chair at lunchtime - very rare these days, and therefore all the more frustrating to this mama... (clunk)
Naptime struggles with both girls (clunky - clunk)
You get the idea. Before too long, I felt myself starting to spill over the edges. And as I tried to catch myself, hold it all in, control the spillage... I realized something.
Maybe it's not so much about trying to not spill over, or not be spilled by someone/something. Because -let's face it - the ice cubes are gonna come. Life is going to hand us challenges and tough moments - some bigger than others, but even enough tiny ice cubes pile up to overflow a cup. So trying to NOT spill might be a bit futile.
Perhaps it's about what comes spilling out. If my heart is full of grace and patience and my mind is full of the words of my Father - THOSE will spill out. But if my heart is focused inward, if I am playing the martyr, if my mind is busy with MY wants and desires... then ugliness will trickle (or gush!) over the edges of my cup.
For out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks. (Matthew 12:34b)
So today - I will try to relinquish my attempt at controlling the ice cubes and the spillage... and just focus on what I'm filling myself up with. And if/when I fail... I will fall back onto the grace of Jesus, and begin again with new mercies tomorrow.
I imagine adding ice cubes to a drink... the level of the liquid rises a bit with each cube. Add too many too fast - and the drink will spill over the top. It's inevitable.
Yesterday felt like one of those days:
We started out with a really rough night - very tired mama and very tired girls. (clunk-clunk... a few ice cubes)
Girls who had both started coughing - out of nowhere - in the middle of the night. (clunkety - clunk... a couple more)
Poor, fussy, teething Meriel - just didn't feel like herself all day (clunk)
Hazel's running a low fever (clunk)
A wet-pants accident in the high chair at lunchtime - very rare these days, and therefore all the more frustrating to this mama... (clunk)
Naptime struggles with both girls (clunky - clunk)
You get the idea. Before too long, I felt myself starting to spill over the edges. And as I tried to catch myself, hold it all in, control the spillage... I realized something.
Maybe it's not so much about trying to not spill over, or not be spilled by someone/something. Because -let's face it - the ice cubes are gonna come. Life is going to hand us challenges and tough moments - some bigger than others, but even enough tiny ice cubes pile up to overflow a cup. So trying to NOT spill might be a bit futile.
Perhaps it's about what comes spilling out. If my heart is full of grace and patience and my mind is full of the words of my Father - THOSE will spill out. But if my heart is focused inward, if I am playing the martyr, if my mind is busy with MY wants and desires... then ugliness will trickle (or gush!) over the edges of my cup.
For out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks. (Matthew 12:34b)
So today - I will try to relinquish my attempt at controlling the ice cubes and the spillage... and just focus on what I'm filling myself up with. And if/when I fail... I will fall back onto the grace of Jesus, and begin again with new mercies tomorrow.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
would you like fries with that?
What if life were like a restaurant, and you could simply order things off a menu and have them brought to you on platters?
I'm not talking about stuff - but experiences.
Tired? You could order up a Good Night's Sleep Appetizer - your choice of featherbed or memory foam.
Or when you're stressed - simply put in a request for a Well-Timed Vacation entree - you choose the duration, location, and up to 3 guests to go with you.
A well-trained, polite staff would be there to bring things out, beautifully presented on trays and platters, to refill your water glass, and to make sure that the everything has been to your liking.
And then you could always send things back - "This is not what I ordered."
It *sounds* idyllic. And as much as there are bits and pieces about the scenario that are truly appealing... there are a few problems with the whole layout.
First, menus never tell you everything about what you're ordering. And if they did, it's unlikely that you'd actually read the entire list, because who wants to spend their time doing that? Then when it comes, it's not quite what you thought you'd be getting... Or perhaps you *do* read the whole description, and then change your mind about ordering the most amazing dinner EVER because it has something in it you've never heard of before - and that freaks you out a little. How many of my life experiences have gone that way? If I had known the whole truth about some experiences of my life - would I have opted out before even trying them?? Or waited until I felt more "ready" for the challenge? And let's be honest - how often would I really choose to go through those "learning" seasons of life if given the option? I shudder a little to think what it would look like if I was in charge of the shaping of my own character.
Then, of course, there's the issue that restaurants need to prepare ahead of time - so customization (while sometimes feasible) is typically minimal. You can't ask them to add just a dash of cinnamon to the blueberry pie before it's baked because that's what you'd do if you were making it at home - so you take what you get. The Life-Restaurant would remove some of our ability to take life and make it our own - and while there are days when I might trade leaving my own personal stamp on my life for the simplicity of ordering from a menu... I wouldn't be willing to forgo that forever.
Finally, in restaurants, we feel that we deserve to be completely pleased when we walk out the door because we paid for a service to be provided for us. And that makes sense. By Life-Restaurant-Logic, that gives Christ the right to dictate what is ordered, served, in what order, at what pace... because HE paid for my life. I've done nothing, and really - have no "right" to demand anything at all... and then the whole dream scenario fails.
This is all just an elaborate metaphor to remind me that although there is a piece of me that wants to say "Um, excuse me - but this isn't what I thought I was ordering when I asked to Be a Mama!" or "You mean being Grown Up comes with these side dishes no matter what??" - the truth of life is better than whatever scenario I could dream up.
Because the truth is that God loves me. My life is a gift, and the experiences I am given - while not chosen by me - are chosen by my Creator. And His love is better than life, His grace is more than I can wrap my mind around, and His peace passes my understanding.
So I tuck my napkin in my lap, and say "Yes, please - I would like fries with that!"
I'm not talking about stuff - but experiences.
Tired? You could order up a Good Night's Sleep Appetizer - your choice of featherbed or memory foam.
Or when you're stressed - simply put in a request for a Well-Timed Vacation entree - you choose the duration, location, and up to 3 guests to go with you.
A well-trained, polite staff would be there to bring things out, beautifully presented on trays and platters, to refill your water glass, and to make sure that the everything has been to your liking.
And then you could always send things back - "This is not what I ordered."
It *sounds* idyllic. And as much as there are bits and pieces about the scenario that are truly appealing... there are a few problems with the whole layout.
First, menus never tell you everything about what you're ordering. And if they did, it's unlikely that you'd actually read the entire list, because who wants to spend their time doing that? Then when it comes, it's not quite what you thought you'd be getting... Or perhaps you *do* read the whole description, and then change your mind about ordering the most amazing dinner EVER because it has something in it you've never heard of before - and that freaks you out a little. How many of my life experiences have gone that way? If I had known the whole truth about some experiences of my life - would I have opted out before even trying them?? Or waited until I felt more "ready" for the challenge? And let's be honest - how often would I really choose to go through those "learning" seasons of life if given the option? I shudder a little to think what it would look like if I was in charge of the shaping of my own character.
Then, of course, there's the issue that restaurants need to prepare ahead of time - so customization (while sometimes feasible) is typically minimal. You can't ask them to add just a dash of cinnamon to the blueberry pie before it's baked because that's what you'd do if you were making it at home - so you take what you get. The Life-Restaurant would remove some of our ability to take life and make it our own - and while there are days when I might trade leaving my own personal stamp on my life for the simplicity of ordering from a menu... I wouldn't be willing to forgo that forever.
Finally, in restaurants, we feel that we deserve to be completely pleased when we walk out the door because we paid for a service to be provided for us. And that makes sense. By Life-Restaurant-Logic, that gives Christ the right to dictate what is ordered, served, in what order, at what pace... because HE paid for my life. I've done nothing, and really - have no "right" to demand anything at all... and then the whole dream scenario fails.
This is all just an elaborate metaphor to remind me that although there is a piece of me that wants to say "Um, excuse me - but this isn't what I thought I was ordering when I asked to Be a Mama!" or "You mean being Grown Up comes with these side dishes no matter what??" - the truth of life is better than whatever scenario I could dream up.
Because the truth is that God loves me. My life is a gift, and the experiences I am given - while not chosen by me - are chosen by my Creator. And His love is better than life, His grace is more than I can wrap my mind around, and His peace passes my understanding.
So I tuck my napkin in my lap, and say "Yes, please - I would like fries with that!"
Saturday, January 09, 2010
a preponderance of evidence
I miss this blog.
It gives me a space tothink organize the thinking I do All. The. Time.
And when I don't blog - to me, it almost feels like I'm not thinking. But not really, because I know that I am. But as far as my bloggie peeps go (if there are any of y'all left out there) - as far as you can see, my brains have been pureed by the two small children in my life, and I'm left with little coherent thought.
It just ain't (quite) true.
True - life has been busy lately. Holidays, traveling, pottying, doctors, present-making, and day-to-day-life-ishness have made the blog slip down the priority list. As it should, really.
But the thoughts and the thinking - they never take a break.
So grow not weary, oh faithful followers - I have much to share. It'll just have to come out slowly, in little bits and spurts as my days and minutes allow. Although all evidence points to a loss of valuable output here at Heartful... my heart is full, my brain is busy, and I miss sharing the heart and the thoughts with everyone.
For today - The Daddy is out of town, and I've already been interrupted 6 times writing this eensy weensy little post by a little blond pig-tailed chef, who is grinding coffee beans and making egg & fish soup for me... - so I'll keep it brief.
Lately I have found strange comfort in things beyond my control. I have not historically been a person who likes non-control (put mildly). But for some reason, my days are less rippled, my thoughts less turbulent, and my heart steadier when I've allowed myself to lean back into the passenger seat. There aren't as many buttons over here, no steering wheel to speak of - and no brakes or gas pedals... but there's a radio, there's a seat-warmer (*love those*), and there are mirrors and windows to see what is around me - coming and going and passing by.
I may not be driving, but I'm enjoying the ride.
It gives me a space to
And when I don't blog - to me, it almost feels like I'm not thinking. But not really, because I know that I am. But as far as my bloggie peeps go (if there are any of y'all left out there) - as far as you can see, my brains have been pureed by the two small children in my life, and I'm left with little coherent thought.
It just ain't (quite) true.
True - life has been busy lately. Holidays, traveling, pottying, doctors, present-making, and day-to-day-life-ishness have made the blog slip down the priority list. As it should, really.
But the thoughts and the thinking - they never take a break.
So grow not weary, oh faithful followers - I have much to share. It'll just have to come out slowly, in little bits and spurts as my days and minutes allow. Although all evidence points to a loss of valuable output here at Heartful... my heart is full, my brain is busy, and I miss sharing the heart and the thoughts with everyone.
For today - The Daddy is out of town, and I've already been interrupted 6 times writing this eensy weensy little post by a little blond pig-tailed chef, who is grinding coffee beans and making egg & fish soup for me... - so I'll keep it brief.
Lately I have found strange comfort in things beyond my control. I have not historically been a person who likes non-control (put mildly). But for some reason, my days are less rippled, my thoughts less turbulent, and my heart steadier when I've allowed myself to lean back into the passenger seat. There aren't as many buttons over here, no steering wheel to speak of - and no brakes or gas pedals... but there's a radio, there's a seat-warmer (*love those*), and there are mirrors and windows to see what is around me - coming and going and passing by.
I may not be driving, but I'm enjoying the ride.
Saturday, January 02, 2010
were there fireworks?
The New Year experience escaped me this year - or perhaps, it would be better to say that I released it from any obligation to provide extraordinary entertainment, purpose, or meaning for my life. I know we moved into a new decade - but it doesn't feel all that monumental.
Perhaps as we grow, the passage of time becomes less and less a thing to marvel at - and more an immutable fact of life.
Perhaps I'm just not a "party" person - the lure of big crowds, fancy food and drinks, sparkly outfits and loud music cannot override the call of comfy pjs and a warm spot on my couch.
Perhaps I've risen above the need to assign meaning to a specific amount of time, dictated by the calendar.
Possible answers, and mostly way more flattering than the truth... that my life has an ebb and flow right now that really squeezed out the need for a "new year."
Motherhood keeps me constantly re-evaluating myself, my time, my goals.
I don't need a new number on the calendar to remind me that time is passing and things are changing - I can see growth, joy, pain, change and love in people and circumstances all around me, all the time.
I have hope for the future.
I have love in my house.
I have two little girls who - for the moment - will not turn down a single moment I offer them.
I have faith in a God Who is in all and above all and holds all things together.
I have uncertainty and unknowns in my life.
I have a place to lay those burdens down.
I have gifts to offer my friends, neighbors and family.
So instead of ringing in the New Year with sparkles and screams - I nod quietly in its direction, recognizing and appreciating the gift of a clean slate... and yet knowing that there is far more in the hands of my Father than in the hands of resolutions and goals... and that the one thing that is in my hands is my response.
Perhaps as we grow, the passage of time becomes less and less a thing to marvel at - and more an immutable fact of life.
Perhaps I'm just not a "party" person - the lure of big crowds, fancy food and drinks, sparkly outfits and loud music cannot override the call of comfy pjs and a warm spot on my couch.
Perhaps I've risen above the need to assign meaning to a specific amount of time, dictated by the calendar.
Possible answers, and mostly way more flattering than the truth... that my life has an ebb and flow right now that really squeezed out the need for a "new year."
Motherhood keeps me constantly re-evaluating myself, my time, my goals.
I don't need a new number on the calendar to remind me that time is passing and things are changing - I can see growth, joy, pain, change and love in people and circumstances all around me, all the time.
I have hope for the future.
I have love in my house.
I have two little girls who - for the moment - will not turn down a single moment I offer them.
I have faith in a God Who is in all and above all and holds all things together.
I have uncertainty and unknowns in my life.
I have a place to lay those burdens down.
I have gifts to offer my friends, neighbors and family.
So instead of ringing in the New Year with sparkles and screams - I nod quietly in its direction, recognizing and appreciating the gift of a clean slate... and yet knowing that there is far more in the hands of my Father than in the hands of resolutions and goals... and that the one thing that is in my hands is my response.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
christmassing
Christmas is next week... and I'm cooking right along on my list of things to do for Christmas... and also realizing that some things will likely wait until next year. Here's a quick run-down:
1. Christmas stockings - MADE!! but still need names - this might be after Christmas, but I hope not.
2. Jesse Tree - next year. Kinda bummed, but the kids will be able to understand it better next year anyway. And this gives me a chance to shop for some ornaments after Christmas and get some crazy good deals.
3. Ninja Doll for Hazel (crochet) - DONE
4. Ball for Meriel (crochet) - DONE, but I'd like to make one more, smaller and jingly
5. Cupcakes for Hazel (crochet) - not yet...
6. Blanket for our new nephew Matthew (crochet) - ALMOST DONE
7. Birthday present for Mark's mom (birthday is Christmas Eve) (crochet) - ALMOST DONE
8. Cocoa Mix for my mom - not yet...
9. Muffin Mix for my family - not yet...
10. Balls for nephews James & Johnathan (crochet)- not yet...
11. Snake for nephew Brody (crochet) - not yet...
Now, if I would stop blogging and get back to work - I could get a few more things crossed off the list!!
1. Christmas stockings - MADE!! but still need names - this might be after Christmas, but I hope not.
2. Jesse Tree - next year. Kinda bummed, but the kids will be able to understand it better next year anyway. And this gives me a chance to shop for some ornaments after Christmas and get some crazy good deals.
3. Ninja Doll for Hazel (crochet) - DONE
4. Ball for Meriel (crochet) - DONE, but I'd like to make one more, smaller and jingly
5. Cupcakes for Hazel (crochet) - not yet...
6. Blanket for our new nephew Matthew (crochet) - ALMOST DONE
7. Birthday present for Mark's mom (birthday is Christmas Eve) (crochet) - ALMOST DONE
8. Cocoa Mix for my mom - not yet...
9. Muffin Mix for my family - not yet...
10. Balls for nephews James & Johnathan (crochet)- not yet...
11. Snake for nephew Brody (crochet) - not yet...
Now, if I would stop blogging and get back to work - I could get a few more things crossed off the list!!
Friday, December 11, 2009
adventures in potty training
We are on Day 11 of PT.
Day 11 of Big Girl Underwear.
It's strange to be a parent, and suddenly be in charge of teaching a little person how to do things that you've done for so long you almost can't comprehend NOT knowing, let alone how to teach it.
But for what it's worth (and that's not much, as every parent and every kid are different), here's my insight so far...
1. We went for no training pants - just underwear (diapers for nap and bedtime still - perhaps that will change to training pants soon). But just underwear during the day. Gets wet and uncomfortable faster.
2. Hang up the pride - you will get poo on your hands, your pants, your socks, the bathroom floor. You will get peed on. You will sing songs about going potty, make up dances about going potty, talk more about going potty than you ever imagined was possible, and spend a LOT of time sitting on the bathroom floor waiting for someone to go potty.
3. It's a struggle, because cleaning up messes gets so frustrating, but it helps me to remember that we are not fighting each other. We are working together to learn how to go potty. It's potty training for me as much as for Hazel - it changes our day considerably to be so focused for so long.
4. When I saw that it was getting stressful for her, I backed off a little. Putting her on the potty every 30 minutes to "try" got really old really fast. Now I ask if she needs to go (answer is almost always "no" - and if I think it should be time to go soon, I tell her "Okay, then in 5 minutes we are going to go pee on the potty." Then I ask her what we are going to do in 5 minutes, so I know she heard me.) We stop whatever we're doing, with the assurance that we will come right back when we are done. She believes me now, and doesn't resist much at all, and goes to the bathroom MUCH faster once in place.
5. It's a chore. It's a process. It's challenging - but it's good. We are working together, learning and teaching. She's trusting me, and I am learning to trust her with herself too. It's cool. But it takes time and effort and energy. At least once a day for the first week, I thought about quitting and trying again later. But every day, there was a reason, a success, a breakthrough - something to keep us coming back again. And she's doing great.
6. Little bitty bums wearing underpants under their clothes are really stinking cute. I tell her at least 3 times a day that I like her buns. She thinks it's funny.
7. The most helpful thing for Hazel was the story I made up for her. It went something like this:
"There once was a little girl named Hazel. And she wanted to wear big girl underwear! But Mama said she had to pee on the potty first. So she sat on the potty, and relaxed, and tried really hard - and then, one day, she went pee on the potty!! And everyone was SO HAPPY!!!! Mama did a dance, Daddy laughed and clapped his hands, and Hazel was so proud! And then she got to wear big girl underwear everyday!"
We repeated it so much that Hazel can fill in words now (all the ones that are pink are hers). And when she goes, she gets a BIG smile and says "so happy!"
We're hanging in there - and I love watching my girl grow and learn. She makes me laugh every single day - I cannot imagine my life without her face and her sweet, sweet spirit.
Day 11 of Big Girl Underwear.
It's strange to be a parent, and suddenly be in charge of teaching a little person how to do things that you've done for so long you almost can't comprehend NOT knowing, let alone how to teach it.
But for what it's worth (and that's not much, as every parent and every kid are different), here's my insight so far...
1. We went for no training pants - just underwear (diapers for nap and bedtime still - perhaps that will change to training pants soon). But just underwear during the day. Gets wet and uncomfortable faster.
2. Hang up the pride - you will get poo on your hands, your pants, your socks, the bathroom floor. You will get peed on. You will sing songs about going potty, make up dances about going potty, talk more about going potty than you ever imagined was possible, and spend a LOT of time sitting on the bathroom floor waiting for someone to go potty.
3. It's a struggle, because cleaning up messes gets so frustrating, but it helps me to remember that we are not fighting each other. We are working together to learn how to go potty. It's potty training for me as much as for Hazel - it changes our day considerably to be so focused for so long.
4. When I saw that it was getting stressful for her, I backed off a little. Putting her on the potty every 30 minutes to "try" got really old really fast. Now I ask if she needs to go (answer is almost always "no" - and if I think it should be time to go soon, I tell her "Okay, then in 5 minutes we are going to go pee on the potty." Then I ask her what we are going to do in 5 minutes, so I know she heard me.) We stop whatever we're doing, with the assurance that we will come right back when we are done. She believes me now, and doesn't resist much at all, and goes to the bathroom MUCH faster once in place.
5. It's a chore. It's a process. It's challenging - but it's good. We are working together, learning and teaching. She's trusting me, and I am learning to trust her with herself too. It's cool. But it takes time and effort and energy. At least once a day for the first week, I thought about quitting and trying again later. But every day, there was a reason, a success, a breakthrough - something to keep us coming back again. And she's doing great.
6. Little bitty bums wearing underpants under their clothes are really stinking cute. I tell her at least 3 times a day that I like her buns. She thinks it's funny.
7. The most helpful thing for Hazel was the story I made up for her. It went something like this:
"There once was a little girl named Hazel. And she wanted to wear big girl underwear! But Mama said she had to pee on the potty first. So she sat on the potty, and relaxed, and tried really hard - and then, one day, she went pee on the potty!! And everyone was SO HAPPY!!!! Mama did a dance, Daddy laughed and clapped his hands, and Hazel was so proud! And then she got to wear big girl underwear everyday!"
We repeated it so much that Hazel can fill in words now (all the ones that are pink are hers). And when she goes, she gets a BIG smile and says "so happy!"
We're hanging in there - and I love watching my girl grow and learn. She makes me laugh every single day - I cannot imagine my life without her face and her sweet, sweet spirit.
Monday, December 07, 2009
Jesus, I almost didn't recognize You in those fuzzy pink jammies
I believe in grace. I believe in love. I believe in taking responsibility for extending grace and love to others, whatever the circumstance. I believe that I fail at this every day, but that I am extended grace and love from the Father to wake up the next morning, and continue to strive for better. For more. For holy.
I sat on the floor next to Hazel's crib, at some unknown wee small hour of the morning. I had lost track of how many times I'd climbed out of my warm blankety cocoon to tend to the needs of my small daughters. Some moms claim to treasure those midnight interludes... I'll be honest - I wouldn't mind if my little chiclets came out of the womb sleeping 12 hours every single night.
I was running low on grace, low on patience, low on sleep.
I sat on the floor next to Hazel's crib, at some unknown wee small hour of the morning. I rubbed her back, ran fingers through her hair, and tried desperately to keep my touch from communicating my stress, my desire to be elsewhere, my selfish wish for sleep and warmth.
And I remembered that whatever I do for the least of the brothers (and sisters) of Jesus, I do for Him.
I took a deep breath in and breathed out slowly. Imagined Jesus laying in that crib.
Now - there IS a part of my brain that said "Now, I DO think that if Jesus was sleeping in my house, He probably wouldn't wake me up at all hours of the night, alternately chatting and singing loudly, and crying inconsolably. And He probably wouldn't be wearing footie pajamas and a diaper."
BUT. But...
I sat on the floor next to Hazel's crib, at some unknown wee small hour of the morning. I rubbed her back, ran my fingers through her hair, and tried desperately to love her as I love Christ. To love her as He loves me.
Maybe sometimes the question isn't "What Would Jesus Do?"
Maybe it's "What Would You Do For Jesus?"
I sat on the floor next to Hazel's crib, at some unknown wee small hour of the morning. I had lost track of how many times I'd climbed out of my warm blankety cocoon to tend to the needs of my small daughters. Some moms claim to treasure those midnight interludes... I'll be honest - I wouldn't mind if my little chiclets came out of the womb sleeping 12 hours every single night.
I was running low on grace, low on patience, low on sleep.
I sat on the floor next to Hazel's crib, at some unknown wee small hour of the morning. I rubbed her back, ran fingers through her hair, and tried desperately to keep my touch from communicating my stress, my desire to be elsewhere, my selfish wish for sleep and warmth.
And I remembered that whatever I do for the least of the brothers (and sisters) of Jesus, I do for Him.
I took a deep breath in and breathed out slowly. Imagined Jesus laying in that crib.
Now - there IS a part of my brain that said "Now, I DO think that if Jesus was sleeping in my house, He probably wouldn't wake me up at all hours of the night, alternately chatting and singing loudly, and crying inconsolably. And He probably wouldn't be wearing footie pajamas and a diaper."
BUT. But...
I sat on the floor next to Hazel's crib, at some unknown wee small hour of the morning. I rubbed her back, ran my fingers through her hair, and tried desperately to love her as I love Christ. To love her as He loves me.
Maybe sometimes the question isn't "What Would Jesus Do?"
Maybe it's "What Would You Do For Jesus?"
my little Meriel
Thanks for all the prayers - I apologize for the update delay - weekends tend to get away from us! :)
Meriel was wonderful all day on Thursday - sweet and smiley and cooperative. Everyone commented what a good baby she was, and everyone who saw her walked away with a smile on her face. The not feeding her for 4 hours beforehand was easier than expected - she got fussy toward the end, but fell asleep eventually (and slept through half her ultrasound!).
By far, the worst part was the IV - it took a poke (and wiggling that darn tube around) in each arm and a foot before they got it to take. It's amazing how different the crying of a baby is when they are in pain - pain that they haven't felt before. It's such a mix of bewilderment, fear and very real hurt - she was wailing and I shed a few tears myself. It was also a bit odd to watch her be sedated... her little eyelids getting heavy and her body going still.
The test took about 1.5 hours, and it took her about an hour to wake up enough to eat. No side effects, no complications - just a long day that I was rather dreading and is now over. We follow-up with the doctor next Monday, the 14th, and will know more then.
Again - we coveted your prayers, and I definitely felt blessed and loved by the response I've gotten from people - many of whom have never met our sweet girl.
Hopefully now, it's back to fun Christmas-y updates for awhile. OH - and potty-training stories. Because Miss Hazel wears big girl underwear these days, don'tcha know. (We are still "training" - but making progress!)
Meriel was wonderful all day on Thursday - sweet and smiley and cooperative. Everyone commented what a good baby she was, and everyone who saw her walked away with a smile on her face. The not feeding her for 4 hours beforehand was easier than expected - she got fussy toward the end, but fell asleep eventually (and slept through half her ultrasound!).
By far, the worst part was the IV - it took a poke (and wiggling that darn tube around) in each arm and a foot before they got it to take. It's amazing how different the crying of a baby is when they are in pain - pain that they haven't felt before. It's such a mix of bewilderment, fear and very real hurt - she was wailing and I shed a few tears myself. It was also a bit odd to watch her be sedated... her little eyelids getting heavy and her body going still.
The test took about 1.5 hours, and it took her about an hour to wake up enough to eat. No side effects, no complications - just a long day that I was rather dreading and is now over. We follow-up with the doctor next Monday, the 14th, and will know more then.
Again - we coveted your prayers, and I definitely felt blessed and loved by the response I've gotten from people - many of whom have never met our sweet girl.
Hopefully now, it's back to fun Christmas-y updates for awhile. OH - and potty-training stories. Because Miss Hazel wears big girl underwear these days, don'tcha know. (We are still "training" - but making progress!)
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
cover us
My sweet baby daughter:
Thursday morning, Meriel and I head to a local hospital for outpatient testing that will take about half the day (I hope not longer). She will be need a catheter, IV and sedation, among other things. Her mama is NOT excited. Bless her little 3-month-old heart, she has no idea what's coming.
And so...
Lord, You are above all, in all, and in You all things hold together. Our prayers are heard, our hearts are known, and our steps are laid out by You.
My heart is burdened with anxiety and worry, Lord, and I want to give that to You. As Meriel and I head to the hospital for her tests - protect us. Keep us safe on the road, watch over our doctors and nurses, and place Your protective hand over our baby girl. I pray that tears would be few (for both of us) and that the hours would pass quickly until we are home again with our Daddy and our Hazel. You know the outcome already - more than the doctors will ever know - and most importantly - Meriel's precious life is in Your hand, no matter what. For that, I give You praise.
Grant my heart peace, Lord, peace that comes only from You. Cover us. And cover everyone - those we know and those we do not - who struggle daily with the reality of medical issues and their precious children - for we are truly blessed. There is such great hurt, so much unknown... and so much heart-breaking bravery. I thank You for this tiniest of glimpses into the lives of others who struggle against much greater odds, much more terrifying enemies.
Go before us, Lord, as You always do. Give me feet for the path, and a heart for You.
Amen.
Thursday morning, Meriel and I head to a local hospital for outpatient testing that will take about half the day (I hope not longer). She will be need a catheter, IV and sedation, among other things. Her mama is NOT excited. Bless her little 3-month-old heart, she has no idea what's coming.
And so...
Lord, You are above all, in all, and in You all things hold together. Our prayers are heard, our hearts are known, and our steps are laid out by You.
My heart is burdened with anxiety and worry, Lord, and I want to give that to You. As Meriel and I head to the hospital for her tests - protect us. Keep us safe on the road, watch over our doctors and nurses, and place Your protective hand over our baby girl. I pray that tears would be few (for both of us) and that the hours would pass quickly until we are home again with our Daddy and our Hazel. You know the outcome already - more than the doctors will ever know - and most importantly - Meriel's precious life is in Your hand, no matter what. For that, I give You praise.
Grant my heart peace, Lord, peace that comes only from You. Cover us. And cover everyone - those we know and those we do not - who struggle daily with the reality of medical issues and their precious children - for we are truly blessed. There is such great hurt, so much unknown... and so much heart-breaking bravery. I thank You for this tiniest of glimpses into the lives of others who struggle against much greater odds, much more terrifying enemies.
Go before us, Lord, as You always do. Give me feet for the path, and a heart for You.
Amen.
in need of a holy toothbrush
Due to a number of factors and a conversation or two, the past week has brought me to my knees with the realization of how very little I can achieve or be on my own, in and of myself.
I am feeling many things - which I will not list for you here, lest you start looking for the black balloons and gloomy gray streamers of my own personal pity party.
I don't know what others would think - and it doesn't really matter. As people, we tend to help others justify behavior that is less than holy, because it is "understandable" or because we know we do it ourselves and we'd like to escape judgment when it happens. Other people might tell me I'm doing fine - especially for a sleep-deprived nursing mama of two kiddos under age two.
But I don't want to be justified by people. I want to know what God thinks of me today.
This is one of those times when I really wish that God had a face and a body and could sit next to me on the couch and hold my hand and answer my questions directly and TELL ME what to do.
I wonder if it would be a time for tough love - for exhortation and a reminder of His glory and His standards and His call to the kind of life He wants me to live -to do everything without complaining, to be blameless and pure, Proverbs 31...
Or would it be a time for grace - for taking care of this Mama, for reminding me that He sees me clean and new because of Christ, for a thick layer of unending, incomprehensible unconditional love?
Or both?
I don't know. And so I pray, I read His word, I ask others to pray for me... but still, a part of my brain wishes so badly that God could knock on my door and be with me in a tangible way.
The taste of failure is in my mouth today - it is sharp and bitter. I don't want it to linger, but it's presence is a wake-up of sorts. If it had never appeared, I probably wouldn't be seeking Him so strongly today. I would be thinking of the things I had to do, and thinking of how well I was doing them.
Instead, today I am praying that His word and His presence would rinse that taste from my mouth - that I might turn toward Him and begin climbing back up the hill. And that in equal measure of high standards and grace, I would reach the end of my day with a contented heart.
I am feeling many things - which I will not list for you here, lest you start looking for the black balloons and gloomy gray streamers of my own personal pity party.
I don't know what others would think - and it doesn't really matter. As people, we tend to help others justify behavior that is less than holy, because it is "understandable" or because we know we do it ourselves and we'd like to escape judgment when it happens. Other people might tell me I'm doing fine - especially for a sleep-deprived nursing mama of two kiddos under age two.
But I don't want to be justified by people. I want to know what God thinks of me today.
This is one of those times when I really wish that God had a face and a body and could sit next to me on the couch and hold my hand and answer my questions directly and TELL ME what to do.
I wonder if it would be a time for tough love - for exhortation and a reminder of His glory and His standards and His call to the kind of life He wants me to live -to do everything without complaining, to be blameless and pure, Proverbs 31...
Or would it be a time for grace - for taking care of this Mama, for reminding me that He sees me clean and new because of Christ, for a thick layer of unending, incomprehensible unconditional love?
Or both?
I don't know. And so I pray, I read His word, I ask others to pray for me... but still, a part of my brain wishes so badly that God could knock on my door and be with me in a tangible way.
The taste of failure is in my mouth today - it is sharp and bitter. I don't want it to linger, but it's presence is a wake-up of sorts. If it had never appeared, I probably wouldn't be seeking Him so strongly today. I would be thinking of the things I had to do, and thinking of how well I was doing them.
Instead, today I am praying that His word and His presence would rinse that taste from my mouth - that I might turn toward Him and begin climbing back up the hill. And that in equal measure of high standards and grace, I would reach the end of my day with a contented heart.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
dear barrel:
I have reached the bottom of you.
Humans are fearfully and wonderfully made. Designed in God's image. And although I'm sure that He can hang in there longer and much more gracefully than I can... He designed me to need rest. To desire rest. To respect and cherish sweet, fulfilling, life-giving rest.
:)
Someday I will ask Him. I will ask why He made sweet newborn babies with stomachs the size of walnuts. Why breastmilk, the perfect food for my new baby, couldn't also have been designed to induce deep sleep between 8pm and 6am. Why toddlers are wired to detest sleep, and avoid rest at all costs.
Why, dear Lord, did You give me a need for rest - and then give me two beautiful girls who believe that their life-purpose is to deprive me of it?
I could blame last night's poor sleep on my 3-month-old - who has slept 5-6 straight hours only a handful of times in her young life - and last night was not one of those times.
But the true culprit is Hazel - my darling firstborn who has been anti-sleep-at-night since she learned to roll over at 4 months old. Downhill ever since, folks.
And I've hit it. The bottom of the barrel. I have no more tricks. No new ideas. No sneaky rabbit to pull out of a hat in a puff of smoke. I have no earthly idea how to help this child sleep soundly and regularly. I've tried everything (everything that falls within the realms of acceptable parenting). At least I *think* I have - and since I haven't come across a new and profound sleep-help idea in a long time, I think I'm right...
People tell me it is a phase, she will outgrow it. So far - the "phase" has been any string of more than 2 days when she actually sleeps and naps well. The "norm" is disrupted, disjointed, difficult sleep littered with tears.
And since the barrel is empty - and God has a sense of humor about all this - I've decided there is nothing more to do but try to laugh about it. If I'm going to look back and laugh someday - why not start right now?
I will try to laugh as I pick up my yoke of loving God and loving my daughters - and to set aside my tired body and mind. I will try to laugh as I look into their sweet faces as we go about our day today. I will try to laugh as I wonder if maybe, just maybe... there is another barrel out there, and I might get to sleep again someday.
:)
Humans are fearfully and wonderfully made. Designed in God's image. And although I'm sure that He can hang in there longer and much more gracefully than I can... He designed me to need rest. To desire rest. To respect and cherish sweet, fulfilling, life-giving rest.
:)
Someday I will ask Him. I will ask why He made sweet newborn babies with stomachs the size of walnuts. Why breastmilk, the perfect food for my new baby, couldn't also have been designed to induce deep sleep between 8pm and 6am. Why toddlers are wired to detest sleep, and avoid rest at all costs.
Why, dear Lord, did You give me a need for rest - and then give me two beautiful girls who believe that their life-purpose is to deprive me of it?
I could blame last night's poor sleep on my 3-month-old - who has slept 5-6 straight hours only a handful of times in her young life - and last night was not one of those times.
But the true culprit is Hazel - my darling firstborn who has been anti-sleep-at-night since she learned to roll over at 4 months old. Downhill ever since, folks.
And I've hit it. The bottom of the barrel. I have no more tricks. No new ideas. No sneaky rabbit to pull out of a hat in a puff of smoke. I have no earthly idea how to help this child sleep soundly and regularly. I've tried everything (everything that falls within the realms of acceptable parenting). At least I *think* I have - and since I haven't come across a new and profound sleep-help idea in a long time, I think I'm right...
People tell me it is a phase, she will outgrow it. So far - the "phase" has been any string of more than 2 days when she actually sleeps and naps well. The "norm" is disrupted, disjointed, difficult sleep littered with tears.
And since the barrel is empty - and God has a sense of humor about all this - I've decided there is nothing more to do but try to laugh about it. If I'm going to look back and laugh someday - why not start right now?
I will try to laugh as I pick up my yoke of loving God and loving my daughters - and to set aside my tired body and mind. I will try to laugh as I look into their sweet faces as we go about our day today. I will try to laugh as I wonder if maybe, just maybe... there is another barrel out there, and I might get to sleep again someday.
:)
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
The world according to the Nut
My daughter chats up a storm these days. Here's a little insight into our world:
"Ahm-plimp" means armpit - and that she's headed to the master bathroom to find Mama's deodorant and try to apply it to her own underarms. Over her shirt. I think 21 months is a wee bit too young to be worried about B.O., but there you have it. If you see my daughter walking around with white deodorant stains on her shirt - that's why.
"Put down Maisy" This one is obvious. It's not malicious or angry... just a simple request that I put Meriel down and re-focus my attention where it clearly belongs. On Hazel.
"Nudie Tootie" Thanks to Mike and Kristen for this one... their little guys used to run around, buck nekkid and crying "Nudie tootie, nudie tootie!" Now Haze does it.
"Getta pinky" Pinky is her blanket. This usually precedes her climbing the stairs to retrieve Pinky from her crib.
"Show Mama" basically is "look at me!!" It gets repeated until I comply.
"Lanka you" is Thank you... and she says it situations where I would usually say it to her (she brings me something and says Lanka you)
She has most of her books memorized now, and will fill in the blanks if you leave holes in the story. She even does a dramatic reenactment once in awhile.
"Hi" and "Hallo" are heard a lot as well. So are "Tocolatey Mik" and "Tocolate tips." Go figure.
Meriel loves to smile, squeal, babble and drool. She's an incredibly sweet girl, mostly very laid back and happy. I can't wait to hear what she'll be saying this time next year.
"Ahm-plimp" means armpit - and that she's headed to the master bathroom to find Mama's deodorant and try to apply it to her own underarms. Over her shirt. I think 21 months is a wee bit too young to be worried about B.O., but there you have it. If you see my daughter walking around with white deodorant stains on her shirt - that's why.
"Put down Maisy" This one is obvious. It's not malicious or angry... just a simple request that I put Meriel down and re-focus my attention where it clearly belongs. On Hazel.
"Nudie Tootie" Thanks to Mike and Kristen for this one... their little guys used to run around, buck nekkid and crying "Nudie tootie, nudie tootie!" Now Haze does it.
"Getta pinky" Pinky is her blanket. This usually precedes her climbing the stairs to retrieve Pinky from her crib.
"Show Mama" basically is "look at me!!" It gets repeated until I comply.
"Lanka you" is Thank you... and she says it situations where I would usually say it to her (she brings me something and says Lanka you)
She has most of her books memorized now, and will fill in the blanks if you leave holes in the story. She even does a dramatic reenactment once in awhile.
"Hi" and "Hallo" are heard a lot as well. So are "Tocolatey Mik" and "Tocolate tips." Go figure.
Meriel loves to smile, squeal, babble and drool. She's an incredibly sweet girl, mostly very laid back and happy. I can't wait to hear what she'll be saying this time next year.
my list
The list.
Everyone has one - although most of us haven't necessarily written it down anywhere.
Besides - virtually every one of us wouldn't write down the true list... it would be a modified, more acceptable version. Just in case anyone ever found it.
And so, the unwritten list exists in my head. It directs my whole day - my attitude, my actions and my thoughts.
The List of My Priorities.
I'd love to tell you the list looks like this:
1. The Lord my God
2. My husband and daughters
3. Everyone else
4. Me
But I'd be lying. I don't even like to think about, or admit to myself, that in the morning, every morning, until I deliberately reset myself... my list ACTUALLY goes more like this:
1. Me
2. My husband and daughters
3. Other people - but probably only those I know well and/or like
4. The Lord my God, if I have time...
Ugh. I am so tempted to go back, delete those words, and post something shiny and happy that makes sure you all know what a wonderful woman, wife and mama I am.
But I sat here this morning, feeling alone and misunderstood and martyred for no particularly good reason... and I realized that I needed to reset my focus.
Maybe I really am a little lonely. And maybe there are people in my day-to-day interactions who do not understand. And maybe I do spend most of my day working to serve some very small, very needy people who really don't say thanks.
But what good does it do me to dwell on that? It does none. In fact, I am quite certain it hurts me. It leaves me focusing on myself, worrying about my own feelings and ignoring my gifts and opportunities.
For me, the first step in tackling my SELF is admitting that I'm wrong. If I write it down, say it out loud, tell someone else... I know that they know that I KNOW I'm selfish. (a big gold star to anyone who is still with me). It puts it out in the open, ugly and exposed - and gets it out of me.
So there you have it. Today, I would like my actual list and my "wish" list to match. I will take my burdens to the Lord first. I will turn a smile on husband and daughters, and rain a little love down on my house. I will turn my energy to those around me, and offer whatever I might have that is of value to them. And if I still have any time or energy... I'll go back and see if those things that were so burdensome to me before even still register on my list.
We all have a list.
Everyone has one - although most of us haven't necessarily written it down anywhere.
Besides - virtually every one of us wouldn't write down the true list... it would be a modified, more acceptable version. Just in case anyone ever found it.
And so, the unwritten list exists in my head. It directs my whole day - my attitude, my actions and my thoughts.
The List of My Priorities.
I'd love to tell you the list looks like this:
1. The Lord my God
2. My husband and daughters
3. Everyone else
4. Me
But I'd be lying. I don't even like to think about, or admit to myself, that in the morning, every morning, until I deliberately reset myself... my list ACTUALLY goes more like this:
1. Me
2. My husband and daughters
3. Other people - but probably only those I know well and/or like
4. The Lord my God, if I have time...
Ugh. I am so tempted to go back, delete those words, and post something shiny and happy that makes sure you all know what a wonderful woman, wife and mama I am.
But I sat here this morning, feeling alone and misunderstood and martyred for no particularly good reason... and I realized that I needed to reset my focus.
Maybe I really am a little lonely. And maybe there are people in my day-to-day interactions who do not understand. And maybe I do spend most of my day working to serve some very small, very needy people who really don't say thanks.
But what good does it do me to dwell on that? It does none. In fact, I am quite certain it hurts me. It leaves me focusing on myself, worrying about my own feelings and ignoring my gifts and opportunities.
For me, the first step in tackling my SELF is admitting that I'm wrong. If I write it down, say it out loud, tell someone else... I know that they know that I KNOW I'm selfish. (a big gold star to anyone who is still with me). It puts it out in the open, ugly and exposed - and gets it out of me.
So there you have it. Today, I would like my actual list and my "wish" list to match. I will take my burdens to the Lord first. I will turn a smile on husband and daughters, and rain a little love down on my house. I will turn my energy to those around me, and offer whatever I might have that is of value to them. And if I still have any time or energy... I'll go back and see if those things that were so burdensome to me before even still register on my list.
We all have a list.
Thursday, November 05, 2009
position or person?
In the past few weeks, I've witnessed something that has left me feeling a little disheartened. And like I'm walking up a pretty steep hill as a parent. (The details aren't important, and it has nothing to do with either of my children directly - just culture and society).
An honest mistake was made, noticed and an apology quickly offered. And rather than seeing grace extended - I saw judgment meted out, defenses raised, and conclusions jumped to with alarming speed. It went on for d-a-y-s. All this in a community of adults. I stayed out of the discussion entirely... which may have been wise and prudent or it may have been a bit cowardly. I'm not sure... but I'm not going to spend any time dwelling on that.
I am more struck by what this dynamic says about our culture.
We are quick to protect ourselves. We are smart - and so others should hear what we have to say, and respect us for it. We deserve to have a space to air our concerns - and while we are allowed (and even compelled) to share our opinion... we are only required to appreciate those who back up our beliefs. ANYthing we offer beyond that should be praised as exemplary.
It's sad to realize how often I am quicker to protect my position than a person. I wasn't a party in this particular conflict - but I am by no means innocent of this behavior. How often do I love MY judgment, MY position, MY convictions... more than I love a person? Why does it seem preferable to be "true to myself" rather than to be true to God?
I want to teach my children to love people more than principles - and love God above all. How often am I moved to tears, brought to my knees - by the unending grace of my Father? And how often do I extend that same grace to others? The inequity there is really shameful.
The best way to teach my daughters is to live it myself... and so, yet again - the reflecting pool of parenthood moves me to take a closer look at myself. And I shake my head, turn away, and pray that the next glimpse I get looks a little less like me and a little more like Him.
An honest mistake was made, noticed and an apology quickly offered. And rather than seeing grace extended - I saw judgment meted out, defenses raised, and conclusions jumped to with alarming speed. It went on for d-a-y-s. All this in a community of adults. I stayed out of the discussion entirely... which may have been wise and prudent or it may have been a bit cowardly. I'm not sure... but I'm not going to spend any time dwelling on that.
I am more struck by what this dynamic says about our culture.
We are quick to protect ourselves. We are smart - and so others should hear what we have to say, and respect us for it. We deserve to have a space to air our concerns - and while we are allowed (and even compelled) to share our opinion... we are only required to appreciate those who back up our beliefs. ANYthing we offer beyond that should be praised as exemplary.
It's sad to realize how often I am quicker to protect my position than a person. I wasn't a party in this particular conflict - but I am by no means innocent of this behavior. How often do I love MY judgment, MY position, MY convictions... more than I love a person? Why does it seem preferable to be "true to myself" rather than to be true to God?
I want to teach my children to love people more than principles - and love God above all. How often am I moved to tears, brought to my knees - by the unending grace of my Father? And how often do I extend that same grace to others? The inequity there is really shameful.
The best way to teach my daughters is to live it myself... and so, yet again - the reflecting pool of parenthood moves me to take a closer look at myself. And I shake my head, turn away, and pray that the next glimpse I get looks a little less like me and a little more like Him.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
take a deep breath
We (Hazel, Meriel and I) are visiting Nana and Papa this week - two states away from Daddy and home - and are, as always, WELL cared for.
As Daddy has his bachelor weekend (he's been telling people that he's "bach-ing it"), we are doing the same things in a new place. There is playing (with new toys), reading (of new books), diaper changing (in a new room)... and bedtime - in a new place.
Our little girl is now big enough to *know* that this is NOT her home. And although she is completely comfortable here - plays well and behaves herself and is giggly and silly and everything a little girl should be - she was not happy to sleep in a new place last night.
Nana and Papa stayed by her side, holding her, rubbing her back, and telling her to "take a deep breath" - until her little body relaxed into sleep.
What an excellent reminder - that so often, a simple break, a second to take a deep breath - is all we need to appreciate that Someone IS there to hold us and comfort us - and that it is okay to relax and let go.
My Comforter is with me wherever I go - His arms are around me, I am protected and guided and cherished... and He is waiting to remind me to simply "take a deep breath" - so that I might put down my heavy load and pick up the easy burden and light yoke He is offering.
And so, today, I take a deep breath.
As Daddy has his bachelor weekend (he's been telling people that he's "bach-ing it"), we are doing the same things in a new place. There is playing (with new toys), reading (of new books), diaper changing (in a new room)... and bedtime - in a new place.
Our little girl is now big enough to *know* that this is NOT her home. And although she is completely comfortable here - plays well and behaves herself and is giggly and silly and everything a little girl should be - she was not happy to sleep in a new place last night.
Nana and Papa stayed by her side, holding her, rubbing her back, and telling her to "take a deep breath" - until her little body relaxed into sleep.
What an excellent reminder - that so often, a simple break, a second to take a deep breath - is all we need to appreciate that Someone IS there to hold us and comfort us - and that it is okay to relax and let go.
My Comforter is with me wherever I go - His arms are around me, I am protected and guided and cherished... and He is waiting to remind me to simply "take a deep breath" - so that I might put down my heavy load and pick up the easy burden and light yoke He is offering.
And so, today, I take a deep breath.
Monday, October 19, 2009
the more things change...
Sesame Street has become a part of our day - not every day, but a couple times a week. It's so different from when I was a kid - and yet so the same. Different characters are in the limelight, and the songs are much jazzier, R & Bish versions of what I remember... but it's still good ol' Sesame Street.
My life feels a little bit that way right now - very different from that of 6 months ago, and incredibly different from 2 years ago.
Today there are two little ladies who are entirely dependent on Mark and me - for everything. Food, water, clothes, warmth, comfort, love, learning. Everything.
I have very little control over when and how much I get to sleep. Or shower, for that matter.
My living room is cluttered with board books, blocks, stuffed animals, baby blankets and spit rags.
My pantry is stocked with fruit snacks and graham crackers shaped like bunnies, and Cheerios.
Today I got up before 6am to hang out with my weirdly-awake little Hazelnut.
She made me laugh, gave me some great snuggles, and shared my yogurt at breakfast.
I've given Meriel a bath, changed a few diapers, wiped tears and put tiny socks on tiny feet again and again.
Sometimes I get frustrated with how little of my life is mine - but then I'm reminded that IT ISN'T MINE. It's God's. It never was mine... I was just better able to believe that it was a few years ago.
And so even though the day-to-day mechanics of my life bear little to no resemblance to the mechanics of years past... the fact that things are different helps remind me that nothing has changed.
My life feels a little bit that way right now - very different from that of 6 months ago, and incredibly different from 2 years ago.
Today there are two little ladies who are entirely dependent on Mark and me - for everything. Food, water, clothes, warmth, comfort, love, learning. Everything.
I have very little control over when and how much I get to sleep. Or shower, for that matter.
My living room is cluttered with board books, blocks, stuffed animals, baby blankets and spit rags.
My pantry is stocked with fruit snacks and graham crackers shaped like bunnies, and Cheerios.
Today I got up before 6am to hang out with my weirdly-awake little Hazelnut.
She made me laugh, gave me some great snuggles, and shared my yogurt at breakfast.
I've given Meriel a bath, changed a few diapers, wiped tears and put tiny socks on tiny feet again and again.
Sometimes I get frustrated with how little of my life is mine - but then I'm reminded that IT ISN'T MINE. It's God's. It never was mine... I was just better able to believe that it was a few years ago.
And so even though the day-to-day mechanics of my life bear little to no resemblance to the mechanics of years past... the fact that things are different helps remind me that nothing has changed.
Friday, October 02, 2009
getting to know you
Getting to know all abooouut youuuuuu....
Any King and I fans out there?
I'm not sure why it strikes me as a bit odd that we have to get to know our children. Maybe it's because my role as a parent is completely different from any family-role I've had before... I never felt like I had to "get to know" my siblings or my parents... they were just there. And I knew them. Or, in the case of my parents, didn't necessarily ever consider them as people to get to know. Just Mom and Dad.
My brain forgot, just a bit, the process of getting to know your new baby. Hazel and I have been thick as thieves since she was born, and we've only spent 3.5 nights apart EVER (1.5 of those nights being me in the hospital, having Meriel) - and the first night apart wasn't until she was 17 months old. And although I will always be getting to know her as she grows and changes, I've gotten to feel that I know Hazel pretty durn well.
Then along came Meriel... and I remember the not-knowing. Love comes immediately - I'd turn myself inside out for her... but the connection isn't quite the same yet, and I can tell that it's because we are still getting to know her. Granted - at almost-7-weeks-old, there's not a TON to know, relatively speaking... but I feel a little bit of a gap because of it. It fills my heart up to know that the road of finding out who she is, who God made her to be, lies ahead of us. Each little smile, each coo, each fuss... each moment gives me another piece of the puzzle as to who she is.
Sometimes it has been tough, lots of times it has been joyful - and it is all precious, this process of knowing our children.
I wonder if God feels that way about us as we grow... except for the fact that He already knows everything... but is there a sense of anticipation - of knowing that something wonderful is coming up - and anxiously awaiting its arrival? He knows what the picture will look like when it's finished - but is there a sometimes-heartwrenching joy in the watching?
I hope so.
Any King and I fans out there?
I'm not sure why it strikes me as a bit odd that we have to get to know our children. Maybe it's because my role as a parent is completely different from any family-role I've had before... I never felt like I had to "get to know" my siblings or my parents... they were just there. And I knew them. Or, in the case of my parents, didn't necessarily ever consider them as people to get to know. Just Mom and Dad.
My brain forgot, just a bit, the process of getting to know your new baby. Hazel and I have been thick as thieves since she was born, and we've only spent 3.5 nights apart EVER (1.5 of those nights being me in the hospital, having Meriel) - and the first night apart wasn't until she was 17 months old. And although I will always be getting to know her as she grows and changes, I've gotten to feel that I know Hazel pretty durn well.
Then along came Meriel... and I remember the not-knowing. Love comes immediately - I'd turn myself inside out for her... but the connection isn't quite the same yet, and I can tell that it's because we are still getting to know her. Granted - at almost-7-weeks-old, there's not a TON to know, relatively speaking... but I feel a little bit of a gap because of it. It fills my heart up to know that the road of finding out who she is, who God made her to be, lies ahead of us. Each little smile, each coo, each fuss... each moment gives me another piece of the puzzle as to who she is.
Sometimes it has been tough, lots of times it has been joyful - and it is all precious, this process of knowing our children.
I wonder if God feels that way about us as we grow... except for the fact that He already knows everything... but is there a sense of anticipation - of knowing that something wonderful is coming up - and anxiously awaiting its arrival? He knows what the picture will look like when it's finished - but is there a sometimes-heartwrenching joy in the watching?
I hope so.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
nostalgia and newness
It's fall.
I *love* fall. If you know me, you know that already. I love, adore, and treasure fall. I'd snuggle it if I could.
Fall always brings me a sense of nostalgia - of moving on - looking ahead and looking back. It's probably the back-to-school-ness of it all - but I always get a shiver of anticipation laced with the sweet sadness of something ending. And of course, all of that is seasoned with apples, colorful leaves, pumpkins, brisk breezes, comfy sweatshirts and cinnamony-baking-smells. (I've gone and made myself hungry... must. fight. urge. to. go. bake.)
Anyway - this year there is no school. The girls are too young (thank the Lord) and my schedule is no longer intertwined with the university's schedule. But I still find myself peering ahead and sneaking a peek backwards on these fine fall days.
I look back toward pregnancy, toward my days as a Mama of One. Summer is back there too - with late sunsets and warm morning sunshine. It all makes me smile, but I'm not truly sad it's gone. Just savoring the memories.
I look ahead to cooler days, early evenings, mugs of cocoa and snuggles under warm blankets. I look ahead to watching Meriel unfold her little personality with smiles and wiggles and playtime. I look ahead to the little girl Hazel is becoming - so talkative, so smart, so imaginative. I laugh every. single. day. with her - she is such a blessing to my days, and a balm to my sometimes-very-tired-mama heart.
As fall unfolds before us, I pray simply that God would give me feet to fit the path He has laid out, and that I might point to Him as I walk along it.
It's fall.
I *love* fall.
I *love* fall. If you know me, you know that already. I love, adore, and treasure fall. I'd snuggle it if I could.
Fall always brings me a sense of nostalgia - of moving on - looking ahead and looking back. It's probably the back-to-school-ness of it all - but I always get a shiver of anticipation laced with the sweet sadness of something ending. And of course, all of that is seasoned with apples, colorful leaves, pumpkins, brisk breezes, comfy sweatshirts and cinnamony-baking-smells. (I've gone and made myself hungry... must. fight. urge. to. go. bake.)
Anyway - this year there is no school. The girls are too young (thank the Lord) and my schedule is no longer intertwined with the university's schedule. But I still find myself peering ahead and sneaking a peek backwards on these fine fall days.
I look back toward pregnancy, toward my days as a Mama of One. Summer is back there too - with late sunsets and warm morning sunshine. It all makes me smile, but I'm not truly sad it's gone. Just savoring the memories.
I look ahead to cooler days, early evenings, mugs of cocoa and snuggles under warm blankets. I look ahead to watching Meriel unfold her little personality with smiles and wiggles and playtime. I look ahead to the little girl Hazel is becoming - so talkative, so smart, so imaginative. I laugh every. single. day. with her - she is such a blessing to my days, and a balm to my sometimes-very-tired-mama heart.
As fall unfolds before us, I pray simply that God would give me feet to fit the path He has laid out, and that I might point to Him as I walk along it.
It's fall.
I *love* fall.
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