Momma

Today is my mother's 65th birthday. She can officially claim social security and medicaid and cash in on all the "great" perks our country has to offer to those who have managed to survive the perils of the standard American diet. I called her today as I drove away from sleeping babies, husband internet searching for camping gear. I wished her happy birthday and we chatted mostly about her abundant garden and what a great father my children have. I love that she loves that. She respects him and our life together and that matters to me. I hope that in a few years we will be in a place where I can take my mom on a great nature-filled vacation. That we can see sights she's always yearned for and that we can walk trails and admire wild life and just be. I've wanted to be able to do that for her for a long time. It being just within reach makes me ache for it every May 11th. Each year makes time seem more fleeting. Parents don't live forever, a fact that is both natural and painful to admit. In June she will drive the infinite roads of Texas to reach us in our little Illinois space. My children will love her and beg for her time and after a day or two she will grow tired from it. Their energy will both bring her joy and make her weary and she will move on to visit others for a day or two. She doesn't land long, but I'm glad she carves time, makes memories, drinks coffee and is content to just be. She is a woman of no pretense, little needs, content to simply be in the same room. Togetherness is simple with her, her silence is silence, no undercurrent. It has taken me thirty years to learn that, to not shrink inside my own insecurity. I am proud of who this woman is. I am proud of who she is able to become in her retired years, the woman she likely always wanted to be but couldn't manage the time, the energy. I love telling friends that she likes her solo life, that her garden is her new family and she grows it beautifully. Unlike some mother-daughter relationships I don't call her for parenting advice or tips on marriage. I "facebook" her random questions about gardening, growing seedlings, collecting rain water. I like this, it suits us. We don't have to talk often, we know the other is there. We know we need each other is different ways, we know things will always be familiar and pick up where they left off. We keep up with the ins and outs of daily life through photojournalistic social media posts and it is sweet and more than enough. Our relationship is quirky and different and not fitting into any mold I may have had and I am just fine with that. Just fine.

full

I can't stop thinking about stuff. Not wanting more stuff but instead, desiring to not care about stuff, and what that looks like. How far does one go in either direction and still justify selflessness, righteousness, living as a good steward?

When I talk about life, our situation, with most people there is an immediate jump to "but it will be great in a few years!" or "the pay off for all this hard work will be so worth it!" I agree with these things yet when I think of our future, of the change in our earnings, I feel fear, I feel anxiety, I feel the weight of what it means to be good with very little and to be great with very much. Right now, I feel rich. I live in a home, drive a newish car, have clothes to wear and bags to pack and children who have luxury in addition to satisfied needs. I have extra to give to others with needs, desires. This is enough for me and in this life I love that I am able to relate to others, there is no jealously, no pretension between hearts. We are all struggling together, we are all looking to fill our lives with love and goodness and deeds that bring those things to others. The people that matter most to me don't live their lives to acquire the best stuff, even if they can "afford it."

I never want to be that person who cares about the best stuff.
I used to be that person.
It was empty.

So where, in the circle of the Jesus followers, is this line to be drawn? For those who have an abundance is it a sin of the heart to keep buying, to keep filling up your home with pretty things, to clothe in trends, to purchase new vehicles or electronics or things that are not needs but rather just modern conveniences that make a strenuous life a little less so? Does feeling peace about a big purchase make it right? How much of our blessings should be shared? Saved? Invested? These thoughts are so fast and furious and covered in emotion for me and our 3 year prospects that I am overwhelmed.

I just want to live well.

I never want stuff to come between hearts. To change a person's respect for me, my husband, to garner disappointment, to be looked upon by all glaring eyes of disparagement. I want every choice we make to be a living sacrifice, I want to give more than I take, share more than I get. I want to use old, and give new. I burn for the Jesus way.

So for me, right now, it comes down to this.

What will I allow to fill me up?

Out

We went to the park in Pekin today. Gibson met his Great grandparents for the first time today and my little crew enjoyed sunshine and breezes and each other. I took this picture today, the tidal of emotion hit, rolled over me, whispered within my own heart, "These are MINE." An unbelievable, beautiful truth.

Shiloh fearlessly climbed to highest playground heights, slid down slides, approached restful fowl, screamed at gnats. I caught her skipping and singing her own lyrics to a happy melody, she ventured into groups of peers with intent to play.

My son, he changes from minute to hour, but he has a sweetness at his core. He wants to impress, to be best, he ate his lunch while saving crumbs for hungry bills, he took care of Baby G. I see him wanting to hard to be good, to treat others well, being driven by something deep to be responsible, in charge.

The baby. Oh how she sheds her light today there were first fingers and toys in grass and mud, first sunburns and many smiles. She has two bottom teeth with the promise of more from swollen, purplish mouth.

So wonderful, this day.

working

There is a stirring happening, a slow change in my soul.

I wonder where God is taking it.

What is this I am circling around, and is it part of the answer I've sought?

Speaking life. Building the strengths. The tongue.

These ideas are looking for solid ground on which to land.

That thing

I try not to be prone to complaint. Complaining is annoying, and when I find myself wrapped up in it I suffer feelings of disgust and disappointment but mostly I wonder what good was just lost in that moment. What blessing did I miss in my hour of dissatisfaction?

My thought life is often a mess, a true reflection of the fallen soul I am. While my outward strength may be self control of tongue in many a situation, there is a blur and buzz of judgement and rants and negativity under the surface. It's THAT tension I am finding so hard to release, to control ones thoughts is an arduous task, but, dare I say, a noble one?

Regrettably the silent beatings bear down mostly on two victims, two so dear to me: my husband, my son. They are my treasures, my golden blessings and thus the target of the evil one when it comes to controlling the thoughts and attitudes of my heart. I want most to do right by them, to raise them up for greatness, but my selfishness uses my thoughts to corrupt the motive of my actions toward them.

So, in light of this, I want to publicly proclaim one thing I love most about each of them. I will fill my heart, and my tiny blip of cyberspace with positive truths, and thus thwart all attacks from the dark side at war within.

For my husband. He is brilliant and creative, good at everything, but this is not the first thing that stands out. That thing I love most is the ease of expression of a childlike heart, that his title has not changed the core of the man, that he can still play freeze tag and ride on shopping carts and giggle at immature jokes and surprise tickle me when I least expect it. He is a blessing if not for all else, for that.

For Asher. He also is brilliant like his daddy and good at anything he takes the time to persevere at, but what I love most about him is his exuberant joy over things unexpected. The bouncing peels of pure excitement over bowling pins knocked down, the pride of writing and reading new words, the genuine love of cheering on little sister at potty tasks, the huge smiles and coos generously given to all babies. He has a deep sweetness. I want more of that.

And now dear friends, it's your turn. Let's encourage one another. Since you have read this I humbly ask that you speak up. Comment here and encourage us all with affirming words toward the one that your heart finds easy to criticize. Speak only the positive, within your mind and out, and see how the change begins.

Satisfy

Oh Lord, that you would awl ways be what I love, that you would always be enough.

Whoever loves money never has enough;
whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with their income.
This too is meaningless. (Ecclesiastes 5:10 NIV)

Often I feel like I'm parenting day to day, impulse to impulse. I think a good method is working, then it crumbles under the weight of my inconsistency. I have ideas that seem right, but then I get sucked up in this whirlwind of emotion and fear and frustration, it approaching unheard, unnoticed. All of a sudden it's spitting me out, leaving us all in tears, emptied.

Oh how I want to do this well. I want to give and give of myself; I want to perfectly balance care of self, care of husband, care of children and home.

I have to. I have to make this my best, this the life I've been given. It is what I have to live. It's all I live. It is the BEST life.

My fear, the one that swallows me, is Asher drowning in his own negativity. That it be found that I am the one that pushed him in.