I am weary of trying so hard and comforted by the knowledge that it is
truly alright to rest. I learn a little more each day that it is a false
safety that passivity offers. It has taken me some time to get to this
fork in the road; Do I want to survive or thrive? It is truly my
decision, isn't it? No one gets to take that from me. I can only take it
from myself. I am not helpless. Many things have happened to me that
have caused me to live in the illusion that life is only worth living in
a shell because at least you won't get tossed, broken, used, abandoned
or neglected. I have experienced these circumstances over and over again
from childhood and they chipped away at my spirit and wrung my heart
ragged. I learned from the earliest days of my youth to squeeze my hands
tightly around the remnants of my heart so that pain would not rob me
of everything and this is how I survived and crept cautiously into
adolescence and adulthood. I had fooled myself and everyone around me
into thinking that I was free because I chose which cage to dwell in. At
this point in my journey, I've chosen to turn on the lights and open
the door. Air out the space. I've chosen to do my best to see the mess
for all that actually is and to breathe and accept that it is going to
take a great deal of hard work to mend and that is ok. It will be worth
it because I choose to believe it is even when all of my being rebels
against the growing pains. I choose to peer out at the world around me
and with hold judgement and ask what I can learn from what I see and
there is so much for me to learn. I see random acts of kindness between
complete strangers and people falling in love with one another. I see
planes passing overhead to destinations unknown and a flicker of longing
for travel and adventure illuminates my heart. I see my little ones
living in safety and content with who they are in the moment. They cry
when they are sad, laugh when they are happy and the present is all that
matters. With all my heart I desire for them to become who they are
called to be without the inhibition of cages and I realize I do not want
them to see their mama live in one.What separates those in cages from
the ones who brave the turbulent world are those who believe that they
are irreparably broken and those who mend their wounds to the best of
their ability and believe that life is ALWAYS worth living and accepting
that it involves some wounds dealt by risk. It is the choice to commit
to life with open hands and heart because sifting through dirt and silt
is worth the promise of gold. I am allowed to break. I am allowed to mend. I am allowed to LIVE and I am on my way, one foot in front of the
other, out of this cage and into my God given life.
Thursday, August 6, 2015
Breaking and Mending
I am weary of trying so hard and comforted by the knowledge that it is
truly alright to rest. I learn a little more each day that it is a false
safety that passivity offers. It has taken me some time to get to this
fork in the road; Do I want to survive or thrive? It is truly my
decision, isn't it? No one gets to take that from me. I can only take it
from myself. I am not helpless. Many things have happened to me that
have caused me to live in the illusion that life is only worth living in
a shell because at least you won't get tossed, broken, used, abandoned
or neglected. I have experienced these circumstances over and over again
from childhood and they chipped away at my spirit and wrung my heart
ragged. I learned from the earliest days of my youth to squeeze my hands
tightly around the remnants of my heart so that pain would not rob me
of everything and this is how I survived and crept cautiously into
adolescence and adulthood. I had fooled myself and everyone around me
into thinking that I was free because I chose which cage to dwell in. At
this point in my journey, I've chosen to turn on the lights and open
the door. Air out the space. I've chosen to do my best to see the mess
for all that actually is and to breathe and accept that it is going to
take a great deal of hard work to mend and that is ok. It will be worth
it because I choose to believe it is even when all of my being rebels
against the growing pains. I choose to peer out at the world around me
and with hold judgement and ask what I can learn from what I see and
there is so much for me to learn. I see random acts of kindness between
complete strangers and people falling in love with one another. I see
planes passing overhead to destinations unknown and a flicker of longing
for travel and adventure illuminates my heart. I see my little ones
living in safety and content with who they are in the moment. They cry
when they are sad, laugh when they are happy and the present is all that
matters. With all my heart I desire for them to become who they are
called to be without the inhibition of cages and I realize I do not want
them to see their mama live in one.What separates those in cages from
the ones who brave the turbulent world are those who believe that they
are irreparably broken and those who mend their wounds to the best of
their ability and believe that life is ALWAYS worth living and accepting
that it involves some wounds dealt by risk. It is the choice to commit
to life with open hands and heart because sifting through dirt and silt
is worth the promise of gold. I am allowed to break. I am allowed to mend. I am allowed to LIVE and I am on my way, one foot in front of the
other, out of this cage and into my God given life.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Waiting in peace
All is quiet in my home. My two oldest are off with their Nana and my youngest is sleeping peacefully. Blessed silence. Rare silence. My thoughts start to wander. I turn inward. I reflect on the direction of my day and slowly drift towards my responsibilities, to my inadequacies, and further to my insecurities, my fears and anxieties, and my shortcomings, and a sadness and unrest comes over me. I usually find some way to distract from this spiral and the unsettling emotions that accompany it temporarily fade, only to haunt me in my next quiet moment. Today I sat with it. When I could no longer tolerate it on my own, I began to text my husband at work, trying to convey the depth of this void I am experiencing and the restlessness and dissatisfaction with the quality of life I am settling for and the fear of making changes I am grappling with. I am looking to him to soothe my soul, comfort my heart, and silence my fears. His eloquent response to my self-revolving litany of woe? "Sounds like you are feeling true Advent, longing for something more...a waiting a restlessness....Which means you need to shut up, turn your damn phone off and take a few minutes of prayer time. Bye." Nothing like that response to drag me off the merry-go-round of my self absorption and to point me in the right direction. I love this guy.
It is Advent. A time of waiting for Our Savior, and for me, it is a time to allow God to improve the quality of my waiting. I wait, but I am fearful and anxious. I wait, but allow superficial concerns to distract me. I wait but am impatient and distrustful. I wait but turn my music up and my TV on and squander the opportunities of silence that will allow me to know the Savior I am waiting for. I prioritize my voice over His. No wonder my heart is heavy. I am desiring an unwavering peace and the world is wanting even at its best. That peace does not come from the world, myself, or even my wonderful spouse. It comes from the knowledge of God's love, a love I struggle to put my whole faith in but nonetheless I continue to try. This love and the peace it brings are what I long for and what I hope will be my companion on this journey to the manger. I will pray. I will hope. I will wait. And when He comes, there may be my struggles, there may be my hardships, and hopefully there will be peace.
"Do at least as much as the disciples did. They had but little faith; they feared; they had no great confidence or peace, but at least they did not keep away from Christ....Do not keep from him...though he discerns much infirmity in you which ought not be there, yet he will deign to rebuke the winds and the sea and say: 'Peace, be still.'And there will be a great calm." ~J.H. Newman
It is Advent. A time of waiting for Our Savior, and for me, it is a time to allow God to improve the quality of my waiting. I wait, but I am fearful and anxious. I wait, but allow superficial concerns to distract me. I wait but am impatient and distrustful. I wait but turn my music up and my TV on and squander the opportunities of silence that will allow me to know the Savior I am waiting for. I prioritize my voice over His. No wonder my heart is heavy. I am desiring an unwavering peace and the world is wanting even at its best. That peace does not come from the world, myself, or even my wonderful spouse. It comes from the knowledge of God's love, a love I struggle to put my whole faith in but nonetheless I continue to try. This love and the peace it brings are what I long for and what I hope will be my companion on this journey to the manger. I will pray. I will hope. I will wait. And when He comes, there may be my struggles, there may be my hardships, and hopefully there will be peace.
"Do at least as much as the disciples did. They had but little faith; they feared; they had no great confidence or peace, but at least they did not keep away from Christ....Do not keep from him...though he discerns much infirmity in you which ought not be there, yet he will deign to rebuke the winds and the sea and say: 'Peace, be still.'And there will be a great calm." ~J.H. Newman
Sunday, October 26, 2014
To bloom in winter
This Fall weather has been achingly beautiful. The fiery red and golden hued trees in contrast to the pristine blue sky have nearly brought me to tears. In these moments, I can easily believe in the existence of a loving God. How could He not be, to paint the world in such brilliance all for the pleasure of our eyes to see? On days like these, my step is light and easy and my heart is full. It is amazing how the weather alone can elevate my mood and spirit in a way that nothing else can, and I am kinder, gentler, more patient with my family and myself and I am grateful.
And then the leaves fall all at once. The sun disappears earlier and earlier on the horizon and my joy diminishes with the daylight. A bone chill enters the air and I feel a deep and strange loneliness. I feel a sadness I can't explain and I want to curl up in my bed under my covers and hibernate like all the creatures outside or fly south with the geese. I dread winter. I dread stir craziness that enters my home because my little ones are stuck inside and yearning for the outdoors that I am unwilling to expose myself because my southern blood runs deep and the cold gets to me in minutes. I dread the roads that become icy and sometimes dangerous partially because it forces me to temper my road rage and become somewhat civilized out of fear for my life. As the winter trudges on, I find myself sharpening a bitter edge in my heart. My tone becomes short much more quickly with my children and my patience unravels at the slightest inconveniences. All of those boots, coats, gloves, hats and scarves make me never want to leave my house again and the threat of illness lurking in every corner make me want to seclude even more. I watch my husband's eyes glaze over as I find a new complaint about the weather, winter traffic, the excessive cold, too much snow, etc. Poor man. I am definitely not transformed into a person I would even want to be around and I've allowed this version of myself to rule me as the season changes more and more every year that I have lived in the Midwest. I allow my belief of a loving God to alter into a less benevolent, distant, apathetic character that could give a hoot about how cold it is, how idiotic winter drivers are, how lonely I feel, and what animals my children become, climbing the walls and clamoring to be free of our home we are confined in because mommy is too chicken to brave the cold and ice. I become consumed with inconvenience and myself and as you can imagine it is miserable and I make sure that my loved ones get to experience my pity party because hey, misery surely loves company.
Well, I am tired of living this way for a quarter of the year. It is exhausting. I am planted pretty firmly in the Midwest for the time being and I realize I can continue grating God and everyone else's ears with complaints and whining about how much I hate everything and everyone because I'm cold, seclude myself and pine for spring OR I can search out the beauty of the pleasant moments I am granted in the midst of winter, learn to cultivate gratitude in my heart for the simple joys I am granted in the midst of the season's harshness because these moments do happen, and regretfully, I've missed so many while lost in my grievances.
I've decided to give it a try. I have decided to choose joy, to be mindful of the moments that remind me of the true and enduring love of God, the glittering snow when the moon hits it just right, the smell of smoke emerging from the neighbors chimney, my (hopefully) thriving houseplants in contrast to the naked trees outside, the many dance parties I will have with my little ones, snuggles when they catch a winter illness, my cozy down blanket stuffed into the duvet, fragrant cinnamon and clove boiling in a pot on the stove, the promise of Jesus coming to earth at Christmas, the tang of our Christmas tree and all of those twinkling lights lighting up the early nighttime, an uplifting visit with a friend, the blessing and privilege of heat, running water and food on our table. I will be mindful and take in the moments of sadness, loneliness, and restlessness that I know will still surface and I will choose to let them pass, and hopefully when the snow melts, and the promise of spring comes into the air and signs of life spring up everywhere, I will find that Winter was not all that long because my heart is full of gratitude for the simple joys that I found in a season that formerly filled me with dread and sadness and that it has expanded a little more instead of closed in on itself. This is my hope. This is my challenge and hopefully will be my triumph, to bloom where I am planted even in the harshest of conditions.
And then the leaves fall all at once. The sun disappears earlier and earlier on the horizon and my joy diminishes with the daylight. A bone chill enters the air and I feel a deep and strange loneliness. I feel a sadness I can't explain and I want to curl up in my bed under my covers and hibernate like all the creatures outside or fly south with the geese. I dread winter. I dread stir craziness that enters my home because my little ones are stuck inside and yearning for the outdoors that I am unwilling to expose myself because my southern blood runs deep and the cold gets to me in minutes. I dread the roads that become icy and sometimes dangerous partially because it forces me to temper my road rage and become somewhat civilized out of fear for my life. As the winter trudges on, I find myself sharpening a bitter edge in my heart. My tone becomes short much more quickly with my children and my patience unravels at the slightest inconveniences. All of those boots, coats, gloves, hats and scarves make me never want to leave my house again and the threat of illness lurking in every corner make me want to seclude even more. I watch my husband's eyes glaze over as I find a new complaint about the weather, winter traffic, the excessive cold, too much snow, etc. Poor man. I am definitely not transformed into a person I would even want to be around and I've allowed this version of myself to rule me as the season changes more and more every year that I have lived in the Midwest. I allow my belief of a loving God to alter into a less benevolent, distant, apathetic character that could give a hoot about how cold it is, how idiotic winter drivers are, how lonely I feel, and what animals my children become, climbing the walls and clamoring to be free of our home we are confined in because mommy is too chicken to brave the cold and ice. I become consumed with inconvenience and myself and as you can imagine it is miserable and I make sure that my loved ones get to experience my pity party because hey, misery surely loves company.
Well, I am tired of living this way for a quarter of the year. It is exhausting. I am planted pretty firmly in the Midwest for the time being and I realize I can continue grating God and everyone else's ears with complaints and whining about how much I hate everything and everyone because I'm cold, seclude myself and pine for spring OR I can search out the beauty of the pleasant moments I am granted in the midst of winter, learn to cultivate gratitude in my heart for the simple joys I am granted in the midst of the season's harshness because these moments do happen, and regretfully, I've missed so many while lost in my grievances.
I've decided to give it a try. I have decided to choose joy, to be mindful of the moments that remind me of the true and enduring love of God, the glittering snow when the moon hits it just right, the smell of smoke emerging from the neighbors chimney, my (hopefully) thriving houseplants in contrast to the naked trees outside, the many dance parties I will have with my little ones, snuggles when they catch a winter illness, my cozy down blanket stuffed into the duvet, fragrant cinnamon and clove boiling in a pot on the stove, the promise of Jesus coming to earth at Christmas, the tang of our Christmas tree and all of those twinkling lights lighting up the early nighttime, an uplifting visit with a friend, the blessing and privilege of heat, running water and food on our table. I will be mindful and take in the moments of sadness, loneliness, and restlessness that I know will still surface and I will choose to let them pass, and hopefully when the snow melts, and the promise of spring comes into the air and signs of life spring up everywhere, I will find that Winter was not all that long because my heart is full of gratitude for the simple joys that I found in a season that formerly filled me with dread and sadness and that it has expanded a little more instead of closed in on itself. This is my hope. This is my challenge and hopefully will be my triumph, to bloom where I am planted even in the harshest of conditions.
Friday, September 26, 2014
I'm a mom. God help me.
Do you ever have those moments where the weight of someone's words sink into your heart in a weird way and become so real and true... and frightening? That happened to me this morning. I was on the way out into the yard with my son and all he said was, "You want to play with me mom?"
Mom. MOM.
I'm a mom. I'm a mom of THREE. I'm his mom. He depends on me. He trusts me. He needs me. A small surge of panic welled up in me for a few split seconds as thoughts raced through my head, thoughts like "I am so unorganized. I'm mean in the morning. I'm reactive and kind of immature. My purse is a mess. I steal Jeremy's socks because I don't own any. I should buy some... He DEPENDS on me?"
And then I took a deep breath. I am a mom and I am so human, flawed and at times so ridiculous. God help me. Help me to pour myself out when I want to hold on to my reserves. Help me to rely on YOU. Remind me to buy some socks. Amen.
God help me. I need to say this a gazillion times a day... and then I need to calm down. Because I won't magically become the mom I think I should be in my head. I'm not even sure she exists. God is well aware of my weaknesses and short comings and He still chose me to be mom to these three little goons, socks or no socks. So I can do the best I can and let the grace of God smooth out the rough edges.
Mom. MOM.
I'm a mom. I'm a mom of THREE. I'm his mom. He depends on me. He trusts me. He needs me. A small surge of panic welled up in me for a few split seconds as thoughts raced through my head, thoughts like "I am so unorganized. I'm mean in the morning. I'm reactive and kind of immature. My purse is a mess. I steal Jeremy's socks because I don't own any. I should buy some... He DEPENDS on me?"
And then I took a deep breath. I am a mom and I am so human, flawed and at times so ridiculous. God help me. Help me to pour myself out when I want to hold on to my reserves. Help me to rely on YOU. Remind me to buy some socks. Amen.
God help me. I need to say this a gazillion times a day... and then I need to calm down. Because I won't magically become the mom I think I should be in my head. I'm not even sure she exists. God is well aware of my weaknesses and short comings and He still chose me to be mom to these three little goons, socks or no socks. So I can do the best I can and let the grace of God smooth out the rough edges.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
It doesnt take much....really.
The things we do for our kids, The trouble we go through just for that temporary smile or squeal of delight that our far from equal efforts reward us with. I spotted a small construction site a few blocks from our home today while picking Moo up from Preschool and knew that Buddy would poop his diaper with joy. He has gotten to that stage where you slap wheels on anything and he's cool. The boy sleeps with his cars and trucks (in addition to a small paint roller and stone garden duck named Richard). So this was going to be quite a treat. Easy and free entertainment. I was already patting myself on the back and giving myself the mommy award before I even walked in the door.
Well. Too soon, girl. Too soon. The construction site was about five blocks away and on a busier road I plopped Olive in the double stroller with a bink and a maraca. Buddy decided to push his bear in a baby doll stroller (but we're cool. I had the double stroller as back up when it started to take five years to get to our destination because He needed to pick up every stick and candy wrapper we passed) and Moo hopped on her trike and sped a block ahead to assert her independence. So far, so good. But then, we needed to cross the street. Let me tell you, that was an education for all passing by as I yelped at Moo to "Keep pedaling! You can't itch your leg in the middle of the Road!" and "Come on Bud! Keep walking! Watch where you're going! You are going to...run into Moo on her trike who is wailing because her legs are tired (We've only gotten a block and a half for pete's sake..) As I struggled to push the stroller against the back of trike, to hook the stupid baby doll stroller on the back of the actual stroller and throw Bud in the back, all while maneuvering across the road and loudly instructing my tots about street smarts and safety, my confidence dwindled into nothingness. What the hell was I doing? I should have put Olive in the carrier. I should have strapped Buddy and Moo in the darn double stroller knowing they can't be trusted on the open road. I should have just thrown them in their car seats and drove the van. I should have...
And then we made it. Alive. The look on Buddy's face. Man. I wish I could bottle that face up and keep it in my pocket for all my days. Even Moo elicited a couple shrieks of excitement, the girl who has little interest in anything that doesn't start with princess these days, and Olive stared quietly, sucking her bink and clutching her maraca. There we stood on the street corner, watching the men work, the bulldozer doing its thing. They had no clue the adventure we had just had just to come see them do their daily job and I'd do it again for my little turkeys ... Maybe with a little more wits about me and a minivan:-)
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