I came down with strep throat on Wednesday night. It's now Friday and I still feel the cold fist of death clenching my throat glands, but a few more doses of amoxicillin should be the ticket. I hope.
I've been quarantined to a room for the most part, everything I touch is wiped with disinfectant urgency and I can't kiss my kids or my best friend. It has left me feeling a little out of touch and, honestly, depressed. I hadn't realized how much simple touches and gestures stir the peace in my heart, how snuggling all my loves has such an effect on my well being. I am grateful to still be nursing my sweet Shiloh, that closeness is the only thing keeping my sanity tied by a loose thread.
In all this time of separation under one roof I've been reading. A hundred pages in War and Peace, fifty in Wisdom Hunter twenty in Same Kind of Different As Me and snippets of scripture here and there. And mostly I've been thinking.
My thoughts keep falling on criticism, on how quick our generation is, in general, to assume the worst of one another, to put ill into the most innocent of motives, how simple comments about ones own life draw out rage and insecurity in others. And tongue lashings ensue. I love my life, I'm proud of my choices, I believe fully that God has walked us down these paths very meticulously and that I am being asked to live this way. I am being called to stay at home with my children, to have a large family, to home school and teach them virtue along with their algebra. I enjoy cooking from scratch, keeping an organized and tidy house, staying fit and healthy and encouraging my family to do the same. Do I do these things to shame those who don't? Absolutely by NO MEANS. Everyone is on a different path, a different journey, and while there are some things that I would not choose for my family, I am not in a position to chastise others for doing what works for them. Our society would not do well if we all grew up the same, that would be a bit boring, don't you think?
All this to say I think I've realized that unless asked, I need to keep my lifestyle to myself. These choices are not a pretense for judgment, of me or others. I live how I live because it's the best life I know how to make for me and my family, not because I think it's the life everyone should or even can be living. I choose and live and will not be a sounding board spouting off remarks that could potentially draw out hurts or insecurities in others. I will live being as much of an example of good stewardship of all of these gifts as He will give me strength to be.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Red Bird, Red Bird, What do you see?
The house is silent at 1 in the afternoon, everyone is sleeping. There is a beautiful cardinal just outside my kitchen window and I sit here typing what I hope comes out clearly.
I've been reading, thinking, praying about my life. I always do, but differently as of late in lieu of the ways I've been influenced through books, people, lives lived differently than mine. I want to be a "good steward" of all of these blessings, but not JUST that, I want to live boldly, for every aspect of my life to speak some kind of truth.
We planted a small garden to save money on produce, we are preparing some barrels for rain collection to reuse the gift of water from above rather than wasting it, we are composting. I love doing these things, but this passion wells up inside of me to do more. To stop buying grocery store produce all together, to buy from a local CSA and take one little step with our little lives to speak up against the millions of dollars and gallons of gas wasted to ship produce all over the country when real people living on real farms raising real families can provide us with more than we need. Gas and oil that travels to us on the backs and coffins of people from far away who don't want war, soldiers who are created in God's image and suffer greatly at the ends of their rifles. I'm no anti-war activist, I applaud soldier's for standing up for something they believe in, we should all do that a little more...but I just believe there must be a better way.
I LOVE clothes, fashion, dressing nice, looking feminine and eclectic. I feel guilt in buying those things, I feel like that $40 could have gone to something better, could support another child through Compassion or be used to make a meal for a family going through a hard time. What if I learned how to make all of the things I love from something else? What if your old sheets and curtains became my next couture? But then I get a whiff of fear that I would be turn inwardly on myself and my family too much, that I would spend too much time providing for us and lose sight of serving and giving to others. Where is the balance? Oh Lord, show me the balance!
I have this best friend that I've know since I was 16. She married my husband's brother. She's pregnant now with my nephew. I write those short, simple, poetic sentences and realize how BIG God's picture is. In a few months I will hold this new, tiny little baby boy and cry tears of joy and thanks and remember that He had him in mind all these years. Oh how GREAT thou art. How GREAT THOU ART.
How can I make my life matter even more than it matters today? Can I live a life that shows my children truth and beauty in such overwhelming ways that choosing the broad path is scarcely an option? Will praying for them, home schooling them, loving them and showing them a balance of grace and discipline be what does it? Family dinners and knowing that mommy and daddy are going to be together forever? Probably not. They are people with free will and I can only choose to trust God at his word, and do my best. Whatever that means for each day.
I've been reading, thinking, praying about my life. I always do, but differently as of late in lieu of the ways I've been influenced through books, people, lives lived differently than mine. I want to be a "good steward" of all of these blessings, but not JUST that, I want to live boldly, for every aspect of my life to speak some kind of truth.
We planted a small garden to save money on produce, we are preparing some barrels for rain collection to reuse the gift of water from above rather than wasting it, we are composting. I love doing these things, but this passion wells up inside of me to do more. To stop buying grocery store produce all together, to buy from a local CSA and take one little step with our little lives to speak up against the millions of dollars and gallons of gas wasted to ship produce all over the country when real people living on real farms raising real families can provide us with more than we need. Gas and oil that travels to us on the backs and coffins of people from far away who don't want war, soldiers who are created in God's image and suffer greatly at the ends of their rifles. I'm no anti-war activist, I applaud soldier's for standing up for something they believe in, we should all do that a little more...but I just believe there must be a better way.
I LOVE clothes, fashion, dressing nice, looking feminine and eclectic. I feel guilt in buying those things, I feel like that $40 could have gone to something better, could support another child through Compassion or be used to make a meal for a family going through a hard time. What if I learned how to make all of the things I love from something else? What if your old sheets and curtains became my next couture? But then I get a whiff of fear that I would be turn inwardly on myself and my family too much, that I would spend too much time providing for us and lose sight of serving and giving to others. Where is the balance? Oh Lord, show me the balance!
I have this best friend that I've know since I was 16. She married my husband's brother. She's pregnant now with my nephew. I write those short, simple, poetic sentences and realize how BIG God's picture is. In a few months I will hold this new, tiny little baby boy and cry tears of joy and thanks and remember that He had him in mind all these years. Oh how GREAT thou art. How GREAT THOU ART.
How can I make my life matter even more than it matters today? Can I live a life that shows my children truth and beauty in such overwhelming ways that choosing the broad path is scarcely an option? Will praying for them, home schooling them, loving them and showing them a balance of grace and discipline be what does it? Family dinners and knowing that mommy and daddy are going to be together forever? Probably not. They are people with free will and I can only choose to trust God at his word, and do my best. Whatever that means for each day.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
bunnies and everything else
I'm sitting here in a kitchen that needs cleaning, gorging myself on exactly ten Easter bunny-shaped marshmallows, not sure whether I should finish my thoughts here or master the responsibilities at hand.
I will finish, dishes tend to lend themselves ubiquitous anyway.
There has been a thought, a realization edging it's way to the surface of my heart. A little more appears each time I write here, each time I talk to a friend, in my regrettably infrequent times of peaceful meditation, and now the glimmer of it's clarity is right upon me.
I have found JOY in this life.
The joy of an exposed life, no secrets, no regrets, just life lived a full as I know how to make it, at peace with the season of life I am in, knowing that my sweet children will not be little for long, that in years to come I will long for these days of housework and cuddles and teachings about God's creativity in the moment. I love who I married for who he is right now, not expecting him to become some one else or to change, but because I know that he is meant for me even in ways I do not yet know.
I am enamored and obsessed with capturing God's grace and learning to use it as salve on the wounds of those around me and especially in applying it to my own short comings. It is so easy to dig a grave of self pity instead. So easy. I don't want to be religious. I want to be Jesus to the world, not a critic or cynic but JESUS. I refuse to drown in Western Christianity, I want to be the lifeboat. I fail. I pick it back up and try again, learning volumes with each opportunity to be humbled.
I am ok with whatever it is people think of me, REALLY. I am secure, I am fighting to love and live unselfishly, I accept the words and judgments of others. Good or painful they make me better and don't we all just, want, that?
I will finish, dishes tend to lend themselves ubiquitous anyway.
There has been a thought, a realization edging it's way to the surface of my heart. A little more appears each time I write here, each time I talk to a friend, in my regrettably infrequent times of peaceful meditation, and now the glimmer of it's clarity is right upon me.
I have found JOY in this life.
The joy of an exposed life, no secrets, no regrets, just life lived a full as I know how to make it, at peace with the season of life I am in, knowing that my sweet children will not be little for long, that in years to come I will long for these days of housework and cuddles and teachings about God's creativity in the moment. I love who I married for who he is right now, not expecting him to become some one else or to change, but because I know that he is meant for me even in ways I do not yet know.
I am enamored and obsessed with capturing God's grace and learning to use it as salve on the wounds of those around me and especially in applying it to my own short comings. It is so easy to dig a grave of self pity instead. So easy. I don't want to be religious. I want to be Jesus to the world, not a critic or cynic but JESUS. I refuse to drown in Western Christianity, I want to be the lifeboat. I fail. I pick it back up and try again, learning volumes with each opportunity to be humbled.
I am ok with whatever it is people think of me, REALLY. I am secure, I am fighting to love and live unselfishly, I accept the words and judgments of others. Good or painful they make me better and don't we all just, want, that?
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
streaming
He was sitting at the kitchen table, tapping to a beat inaudible to rest of the house, unaware that a choice today would change a forever for some one he had not met, would never meet. At the hospital where he spends so many precious hours the mundane trickles in so slowly that before one realizes it they are flooded by impatience and hardened heart. He stands at this precipice this morning and doesn't even know it.
His wife walks in, hair tangled and yesterdays makeup smudged beneath half open eyes. He thinks she is cute and beautiful like this but forgets to tell her almost every day. As she sits down to the silence of sleeping children she asks what he is going to do about the patient he told her of yesterday. The one with the failing body, the one with a sudden cancer diagnosis and a fate so unpredictable that even he, with all of his training, can't put a time table to. In that moment while he sat shaking his head with doubt she said something simple, though monumental.
"I think you should pray with him. Maybe even with his family. From what you said they seem to feel pretty hopeless and prayer is what gives me hope, so...I mean. If you don't, who will? Right?"
Sitting in that chair hearing those words his immediate response resonates inside as a resounding, "Are you kidding me? No!" but he fights those dark whispers and says, "Maybe I will."
That was the end of it. The whole conversation. What would come of it mattered to so many...
--I'm just playing around with some thoughts I've had lately.
His wife walks in, hair tangled and yesterdays makeup smudged beneath half open eyes. He thinks she is cute and beautiful like this but forgets to tell her almost every day. As she sits down to the silence of sleeping children she asks what he is going to do about the patient he told her of yesterday. The one with the failing body, the one with a sudden cancer diagnosis and a fate so unpredictable that even he, with all of his training, can't put a time table to. In that moment while he sat shaking his head with doubt she said something simple, though monumental.
"I think you should pray with him. Maybe even with his family. From what you said they seem to feel pretty hopeless and prayer is what gives me hope, so...I mean. If you don't, who will? Right?"
Sitting in that chair hearing those words his immediate response resonates inside as a resounding, "Are you kidding me? No!" but he fights those dark whispers and says, "Maybe I will."
That was the end of it. The whole conversation. What would come of it mattered to so many...
--I'm just playing around with some thoughts I've had lately.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
filth
I can't stop thinking about this. I want to ignore it, but I can't. I'm going to use this space as a template for my confessions yet again, I want to expose this ugliness, I want to feel the deluge of grace powered change in my heart.
I have been beyond excited about my upcoming trip to Austin. I love knowing that the wedding of a dearly loved friend is bringing me there, that I get to be a part of a day that will seal her with her love for life and that as a bonus I get to be with family. I am enamored by how much Corey's parents love our children, I never had grandparents like them, it is a treat to see their adoration and hear their words of praise for the mother I am learning to be. I am trying so hard.
But in all my genuine excitement there is this really ugly, selfish, deceitful story playing out in my thoughts. Thoughts of wanting to have free time to myself, of leaving my children with my in-laws for countless hours so I can just be by myself, go shopping, buy things I can't afford and don't need just because my husband isn't around to maintain my accountability. I've thought of shoes and purses I want, expensive meals I want to eat and movies I want to see. Now, these things, in and of themselves and not entirely negative, but how I covet them, how I think of them often and devise ways in my mind to hide the spent money from my family is pure greed and pure sin. I had to write it here because with each day I felt my grip on reality passing and found these plans making ever more sense. So yes, I will probably eat at my favorite couple of spots, and yes, I might even do a tiny bit of shopping, but here and now I stand up against the prowling lion of deceit and declare that it will all be open, all be honest, I will not let him win.
The shame of these thoughts has been brought to light not entirely by my own conscious, but also by my recent exposure to Compassion International and their recent project of sending popular bloggers to impoverished countries that they might share their experiences with their readers and some how inspire them to sponsor a child. I also thought these things were shams, that somehow my $30 a month was going into a greedy pocket somewhere, but after reading this and this I am all the more aware of how backwards our American thinking is when looking at the scope of everywhere else. GOD. I'm wanting a new bag and purse and then wondering if we can afford $38 a month so some kids some where can have a meal a week. Yeah. A WEEK. We can afford it, we will, we have to. How could we face our own children and say that we refused? I have never done this before, because it seemed so trivial, it never seemed like enough, but I wonder what ever would? I think that is the greatest scheme against changing this world, the whispers that one small act of generosity won't go far enough so why even do anything?
But it's wrong. That prince of darkness is wrong.
How beautiful and good could it be if everyone on your street sponsored one child? That could be what? 6? 10 children going to school, eating, given a chance to change their life that they might turn around and change others?
One YES means a thousand nos.
It means saying no to complacency, to self doubt, to selfishness and greed.
If there is ANY way you can make this work with what you have, won't you? Isn't that what this life is all about...taking care of those who need it?
Pick one HERE.
I have been beyond excited about my upcoming trip to Austin. I love knowing that the wedding of a dearly loved friend is bringing me there, that I get to be a part of a day that will seal her with her love for life and that as a bonus I get to be with family. I am enamored by how much Corey's parents love our children, I never had grandparents like them, it is a treat to see their adoration and hear their words of praise for the mother I am learning to be. I am trying so hard.
But in all my genuine excitement there is this really ugly, selfish, deceitful story playing out in my thoughts. Thoughts of wanting to have free time to myself, of leaving my children with my in-laws for countless hours so I can just be by myself, go shopping, buy things I can't afford and don't need just because my husband isn't around to maintain my accountability. I've thought of shoes and purses I want, expensive meals I want to eat and movies I want to see. Now, these things, in and of themselves and not entirely negative, but how I covet them, how I think of them often and devise ways in my mind to hide the spent money from my family is pure greed and pure sin. I had to write it here because with each day I felt my grip on reality passing and found these plans making ever more sense. So yes, I will probably eat at my favorite couple of spots, and yes, I might even do a tiny bit of shopping, but here and now I stand up against the prowling lion of deceit and declare that it will all be open, all be honest, I will not let him win.
The shame of these thoughts has been brought to light not entirely by my own conscious, but also by my recent exposure to Compassion International and their recent project of sending popular bloggers to impoverished countries that they might share their experiences with their readers and some how inspire them to sponsor a child. I also thought these things were shams, that somehow my $30 a month was going into a greedy pocket somewhere, but after reading this and this I am all the more aware of how backwards our American thinking is when looking at the scope of everywhere else. GOD. I'm wanting a new bag and purse and then wondering if we can afford $38 a month so some kids some where can have a meal a week. Yeah. A WEEK. We can afford it, we will, we have to. How could we face our own children and say that we refused? I have never done this before, because it seemed so trivial, it never seemed like enough, but I wonder what ever would? I think that is the greatest scheme against changing this world, the whispers that one small act of generosity won't go far enough so why even do anything?
But it's wrong. That prince of darkness is wrong.
How beautiful and good could it be if everyone on your street sponsored one child? That could be what? 6? 10 children going to school, eating, given a chance to change their life that they might turn around and change others?
One YES means a thousand nos.
It means saying no to complacency, to self doubt, to selfishness and greed.
If there is ANY way you can make this work with what you have, won't you? Isn't that what this life is all about...taking care of those who need it?
Pick one HERE.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
married
Ok so it stewed a really long time.
I, in my college naivety, never expected to find myself nearly 5 years married with two children in 2010.
I never thought I would love a job with no paycheck and no glamour.
I couldn't have imagined that teaching my little boy to pee pee in the toilet would bring so much joy.
Or that being selfless with my soulmate would take so much work.
So I didn't grow up knowing much about marriage except that my mom didn't seem to care for it much. She had a rough time with it, so I pretty much abandoned the idea all together. But now I am married to this incredible man, a man who has worked so hard for 8 years to be at this place where his childhood dream of being a doctor is finally realized. A man who loved me enough to save his touch, his kisses, until our wedding day. A man who is a better father than I ever imagined. In this day it seems that women have this issue with supporting their husbands, that somehow the act of having dinner ready when your man comes home is some sign of weakness, that putting on makeup and attractive clothes that only he will see is some form of chauvinism, that washing all the clothes and dishes without expectation of an even share of said workload indicates imbalance.
I. LOVE. supporting. my. husband.
This is a great job and one that I believe in whole heartedly. A man needs to feel respected, he needs his home to be a safe place, a haven and sanctuary from the harrowing forces of negativity out in the dark workplace; he needs his wife to be his helper. I'm no expect, I have only 5 years of experience, but I'm confident in these truths.
I've been praying and studying this a lot as of late and am coming to find that the more I deny my selfish impulses, the more I choose to love and give to Corey WITHOUT expectation of some other favor in return, as I choose to hold grudges less and show grace more, the more love he shows me, the more appreciative are his words, the more affectionate are his embraces. All my life I thought I needed some high profile title to matter, but I see now that what I do for Corey, the smile I put on every day for his arrival home, the effort I put into cooking him healthy meals, having the children clean and in good moods, budgeting our money appropriately, keeping no secrets, I see how all of these things are noble and grand in a secret way. Corey's strength and integrity at work are tied to me, intertwined in who I am to him at home and that is a great privilege.
I see so often in the grocery store parking lots and restaurant booths the wife who is sending her marriage down a pitiful spiral by her snide words. I hear them, those knives of "Why would you do that, are you stupid?" The short spoken directions. The woman who walks 10 paces ahead while her husband is left behind wondering what he did wrong, where he went wrong. I don't want to be that. I want to walk hand in hand with my man, even if his pace is a little slower. I want to be so much that his eyes dare not wander. I want to be the grace he receives when failure meets him at work, at home, anywhere.
This isn't easy. Ever. It's a choice EVERYday for me to put him first and trust that he has a good heart that will not take for granted the things I do. Even when he IS taking me for granted, I have to choose to trust that he will see it, that I don't have to point out ALL the things I do for him because our love is such that truth is always at the surface, gratitude the buoy keeping us afloat together.
There are days, weeks even, when I've done every inch of everything for our home. Cared for our children, laundered, washed, swept, mopped, dusted, mowed, repaired, made special meals, baked special treats, bought special gifts, left love notes, offered myself. There are weeks when I get a lot of thank yous and weeks when they are few, but it doesn't matter because Corey is a gift and a privilege and in the end what would I rather have said of me? That I fought for fairness? Or that I gave my all selflessly and, unexpectedly, gained so much in return.
I, in my college naivety, never expected to find myself nearly 5 years married with two children in 2010.
I never thought I would love a job with no paycheck and no glamour.
I couldn't have imagined that teaching my little boy to pee pee in the toilet would bring so much joy.
Or that being selfless with my soulmate would take so much work.
So I didn't grow up knowing much about marriage except that my mom didn't seem to care for it much. She had a rough time with it, so I pretty much abandoned the idea all together. But now I am married to this incredible man, a man who has worked so hard for 8 years to be at this place where his childhood dream of being a doctor is finally realized. A man who loved me enough to save his touch, his kisses, until our wedding day. A man who is a better father than I ever imagined. In this day it seems that women have this issue with supporting their husbands, that somehow the act of having dinner ready when your man comes home is some sign of weakness, that putting on makeup and attractive clothes that only he will see is some form of chauvinism, that washing all the clothes and dishes without expectation of an even share of said workload indicates imbalance.
I. LOVE. supporting. my. husband.
This is a great job and one that I believe in whole heartedly. A man needs to feel respected, he needs his home to be a safe place, a haven and sanctuary from the harrowing forces of negativity out in the dark workplace; he needs his wife to be his helper. I'm no expect, I have only 5 years of experience, but I'm confident in these truths.
I've been praying and studying this a lot as of late and am coming to find that the more I deny my selfish impulses, the more I choose to love and give to Corey WITHOUT expectation of some other favor in return, as I choose to hold grudges less and show grace more, the more love he shows me, the more appreciative are his words, the more affectionate are his embraces. All my life I thought I needed some high profile title to matter, but I see now that what I do for Corey, the smile I put on every day for his arrival home, the effort I put into cooking him healthy meals, having the children clean and in good moods, budgeting our money appropriately, keeping no secrets, I see how all of these things are noble and grand in a secret way. Corey's strength and integrity at work are tied to me, intertwined in who I am to him at home and that is a great privilege.
I see so often in the grocery store parking lots and restaurant booths the wife who is sending her marriage down a pitiful spiral by her snide words. I hear them, those knives of "Why would you do that, are you stupid?" The short spoken directions. The woman who walks 10 paces ahead while her husband is left behind wondering what he did wrong, where he went wrong. I don't want to be that. I want to walk hand in hand with my man, even if his pace is a little slower. I want to be so much that his eyes dare not wander. I want to be the grace he receives when failure meets him at work, at home, anywhere.
This isn't easy. Ever. It's a choice EVERYday for me to put him first and trust that he has a good heart that will not take for granted the things I do. Even when he IS taking me for granted, I have to choose to trust that he will see it, that I don't have to point out ALL the things I do for him because our love is such that truth is always at the surface, gratitude the buoy keeping us afloat together.
There are days, weeks even, when I've done every inch of everything for our home. Cared for our children, laundered, washed, swept, mopped, dusted, mowed, repaired, made special meals, baked special treats, bought special gifts, left love notes, offered myself. There are weeks when I get a lot of thank yous and weeks when they are few, but it doesn't matter because Corey is a gift and a privilege and in the end what would I rather have said of me? That I fought for fairness? Or that I gave my all selflessly and, unexpectedly, gained so much in return.
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