I know that many of my previous blogs have been on the day-to-day nuisances of being a mother. Little annoying things happen to me constantly, and they provide great inspiration for funny status updates on Facebook.
But really, my life as a mother is not bad. In fact, it's great. I'm good at parenting. My household, though messy and often in disarray, is a warm and inviting one. And I have true and loving friendships that not only support me when I'm down, but sharpen me when I need it.
Each day I get out of bed is victory. I hit life headlong and by the strength that comes through prayer, I live to fight another day. I know this to be true: that I have been given every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ (Ephesians 1:3). My life is as I always dreamed it could be.
So then, where is the dilemma?
What about my life do I not understand?
What is causing me to feel so conflicted and confused?
The answers to these questions lie in one important fact: I am not just a physical being. There is also a spiritual realm in which my life is daily lived. I am not saying that I'm "spiritual", as in "one with the universe" so that I elevate myself into the position of being my own god.
I'm saying that my soul belongs to the Creator-- the one true God. I have a direct line to Him through Jesus, who was God come down as man. I live by the Bible and my prayers are to Him. But I am not just this small minion who is just a small speck in the grand scheme of all creation. I am a custom made human, loved and cherished by Him who created me. He pays such careful attention to me that He knows every hair on my head. He knows every thought, every feeling, every step. He knows my past, my present and He knows my future.
Therein comes the rub.
He knows me so well. I want to know Him as well and, though infinitely flawed, I seek Him out. As King David was a "man after God's own heart", I want to be a woman "after God's own heart." I want what God wants.
In seeking to desire what God desires, reading His word, and really listening to what He has to say, I've found that sometimes I don't want to hear what He has to say to me. Let me rephrase: I hear what He has to say, but I don't understand why He's told me.
Remember, I am not a prophetess. But sometimes in a calm moment of reflection, I will feel the Holy Spirit's prompt for me to walk in a certain direction. He shows me what I will find at the other end of the new pathway. Sometimes, there is trial and testing involved in the new journey.
I'm tempted to worry. I'm tempted to hide behind whatever closet I can find: busy-ness, spending, daydreaming, human approval. I'm tempted to question God, "Why did I need this information? Is this really coming from you? Where are you?"
And I do not understand. For someone like me, this is disconcerting, at best. Life is suddenly uncertain, frightening.
I'm left without answers. Not abandoned, mind you, just unanswered. And then I realize that I must relinquish my right to question anymore, which is bordering in on being defiant. There is such conflict within me, even though my physical life is intact.
Trust.
It's the only Word I hear. Despite my big fat urge to shout, "Why?!", I must remember that God knows what He is doing. No matter what, God uses all for good, for He is good. I can set aside all my worries, my fear, my anxieties. I can forfeit my misgivings, confusion, and need for control. I can put away any possible Plan B's. Non-understanding is a perfectly acceptable state of being for someone who loves the Lord.
And besides, it's not my job to understand.
It's my job to simply Trust.
Showing posts with label 40 days of Silence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 40 days of Silence. Show all posts
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
A Work Memo: From One Professional Mom to Another. . .Blog Day #30
"The hours were long, but the days went fast."
This October will mark my 10th anniversary as a professional mother.
Here's where I started: 3 years into my Christian walk, married 1 year and 2 months, just shy of 23 years old.
When little Lela was born, I had a whole heart full of expectations and ideas of how I was going to parent. But reality hit when nursing was beyond difficult, recovery was arduous, and I had this little blob that needed to come with me everywhere I went. Taking care of an infant was much harder than it looked in all the books I read.
My "rookie" years were tough. I was fully immersed in parenthood with little professional preparation. After only 20 months on the job, I potty trained Lela (also harder in real life than in books) in preparation for the 2nd kid-- a baby boy who never stopped moving in the womb.
He was a shocker from the beginning, with his blonde hair and blue eyes. He cried a lot. Not the colicky cry, or Lela's "I'm settling down" crying before naps, which would have been more tolerable, but a whiny, unhappy-with-anything crying. Plus the 6 month old could crawl all over me like a ferret. And did so often.
Then I found out I was pregnant with Charlotte. I remember thinking, "I already have a baby, what am I going to do with another?"
So there I was, with three babies 3 years old and under. Hubbie was working like a dog but not making very much. We lived in a dumpy townhouse in downtown Davis with an inaccessible decomposing rat in our attic. We were on the WIC and CHOC programs and still barely keeping the power on.
Spiritually, I was in a desperate place. My faith was firm, but my preggo or nursing mind couldn't seem to think straight. Every time I had a quiet-time to do my Bible studies, I would fall asleep. The stress of daily-life was taking a toll on me, Hubbie and our marriage. When I prayed, I had no words-- just a silent cry for help.
As a Bible-following Christ-believing Christian, you hear talk of "everlasting joy" and a "peace that surpasses all understanding." Back then, they were just words to me. I was too pre-occupied with life itself to have a good handle on what those expressions could mean for me. It was hard for me to look beyond finances and a baby who had to eat cheese squares because we couldn't afford baby food. I was up to my neck in poopy diapers and potty training and toddler tantrums. Where is the joy in all that? How was I to find any peace at all?
Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. --Romans 5:3-5 (NIV)
In days of morning sickness and guilt over letting little toddlers watch hours of tv while I rested, I was in a bit of a spiritual lethargy. Joy was allusive. Peace was foreign. But I had the truth of the gospel and His love for me, though I didn't feel it. Romans 5 became my comfort. I was falling short of all I thought I should be doing as a good Christian, but I could persevere. So I did. I just survived.
God provided everything I needed to keep my head above water. My friends were there praying, supporting, role modeling. Family was nearby to provide much needed breaks and help. We had what we needed to eat, have electricity and put gas in our cars. I maintained perspective, sticking to the truth of "This too will pass."
And then during an annual retreat with some fellow moms, my good friend introduced me to this piece of Scripture:
He tends his flock like a shepherd:
He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young.--Isaiah 40:11 (NIV)
Meditating upon these verses, I reached a turning point in my career. God doesn't just have grace for all of our sins, He has grace for us in all of our circumstances. He knows every minute detail of our daily grind. Of course he would allow for more or less grace, depending on what is going on. Because He is a compassionate God.
So those days when I would fall into a deep sleep during quiet, praying times-- He knew what I needed and probably induced that. The days I thought the kids wouldn't stop crying and I was washing purposely painted excrement off the walls, He sustained me and the day would end quickly. The times I was at my worst and losing a grip on my faith, He would gently tip my chin up, put His hands on my shoulders and keep me walking forward.
His love never failed. I persevered through those early years. I held on to God's gentle hand. And He led me to quiet waters.
Well, as quiet as 5 kids can get. . .
I'm not half-way through my career yet. And I don't know what the next 10 years is going to look like. There are, for certain, more trials to come.
But I can say this: that through perseverance, through standing firm in Truth and not feelings, I have discovered the allusive joy and foreign peace.
I persevered. Because I persevered, I gained character. Because I gained character, I was given hope. And this hope doesn't disappoint because of His love, given to us by the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is a constant when we stand firm in faith.
And it must be mentioned that the world is not about me. I am not the center of the universe. There is a bigger picture, a picture larger than the universe. The "Kingdom Business", as Paster Glen Snyder puts it, is not about making me feel great. It's not about making my life easier. At least, not until it's my turn to enter the gates of Heaven.
The "Kingdom Business" is about restoring man to God. And He's already taken the pivotal step: coming down as man, dying on the cross to take our punishment for sin, then rising from the dead as no other god can do. Now the Big Boss wants us to take this love He gave us and love Him back. In loving Him back, He wants us to love all His peoples.
Included in these peoples are the little peoples. The ones entrusted into our care. The ones who push our buttons, embarrass us in the grocery store, bite their Sunday school teachers, wake us up in the middle of the night because they fear "can't-see-ems", play with our faces when we let them snuggle with us early in the mornings, cry during family pictures, poop their pants in Costco, treat Wal-Mart like a park, make you change into pajamas because they've garfed all over your clean outfits, and leave floaties in your much anticipated glass of juice.
God never said it would be easy. He just told us to do it. Love them. Joyfully and Have Peace.
But how?
I am glad to say that in this current second, my trials are not tribulations. My trials are more like irritations (thanks for the distinction, Beth Moore). But it's not to say that my irritations are not wearisome. I am actually in a constant state of weariness. Not just physically from my new-found exercise hobby. But bone-weariness and grouchiness to boot.
Yet, I have found out how to have Joy and Peace through it all. I have found out how to have Joy and Peace through unhappiness and discomfort.
It's perseverance-- sticking to the truth, and not relying on feelings. Keep on keeping on. Get through the day. Then start over in the morning.
It's perspective-- lowering expectations and remembering that life isn't about "me". Stick to the Kingdom Business.
It's honesty and humility-- seeking help where help is needed.
It's having character-- loving people, loving the children, loving the Hubbie, and doing what is right and true.
It's having hope-- God is good, no matter how we feel. "It will all be okay." is a cliche for a reason. Use it until it becomes an over-used cliche. And then use it again. Because God is good.
So breathe in the Holy Spirit, breathe out all else-- self-doubt, burn-out, stress, worry, negativity, ungratefulness, selfishness, bitterness. . .
You were chosen for one of the most noblest tasks. . .employed by the perfect Almighty Big Boss. . .Your work has not gone unnoticed. . .And there is reward waiting for you at the end. . . .Keep working, fellow mothers. . .When God is for us, who can be against us?
This October will mark my 10th anniversary as a professional mother.
Here's where I started: 3 years into my Christian walk, married 1 year and 2 months, just shy of 23 years old.
When little Lela was born, I had a whole heart full of expectations and ideas of how I was going to parent. But reality hit when nursing was beyond difficult, recovery was arduous, and I had this little blob that needed to come with me everywhere I went. Taking care of an infant was much harder than it looked in all the books I read.
My "rookie" years were tough. I was fully immersed in parenthood with little professional preparation. After only 20 months on the job, I potty trained Lela (also harder in real life than in books) in preparation for the 2nd kid-- a baby boy who never stopped moving in the womb.
He was a shocker from the beginning, with his blonde hair and blue eyes. He cried a lot. Not the colicky cry, or Lela's "I'm settling down" crying before naps, which would have been more tolerable, but a whiny, unhappy-with-anything crying. Plus the 6 month old could crawl all over me like a ferret. And did so often.
Then I found out I was pregnant with Charlotte. I remember thinking, "I already have a baby, what am I going to do with another?"
So there I was, with three babies 3 years old and under. Hubbie was working like a dog but not making very much. We lived in a dumpy townhouse in downtown Davis with an inaccessible decomposing rat in our attic. We were on the WIC and CHOC programs and still barely keeping the power on.
Spiritually, I was in a desperate place. My faith was firm, but my preggo or nursing mind couldn't seem to think straight. Every time I had a quiet-time to do my Bible studies, I would fall asleep. The stress of daily-life was taking a toll on me, Hubbie and our marriage. When I prayed, I had no words-- just a silent cry for help.
As a Bible-following Christ-believing Christian, you hear talk of "everlasting joy" and a "peace that surpasses all understanding." Back then, they were just words to me. I was too pre-occupied with life itself to have a good handle on what those expressions could mean for me. It was hard for me to look beyond finances and a baby who had to eat cheese squares because we couldn't afford baby food. I was up to my neck in poopy diapers and potty training and toddler tantrums. Where is the joy in all that? How was I to find any peace at all?
Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. --Romans 5:3-5 (NIV)
In days of morning sickness and guilt over letting little toddlers watch hours of tv while I rested, I was in a bit of a spiritual lethargy. Joy was allusive. Peace was foreign. But I had the truth of the gospel and His love for me, though I didn't feel it. Romans 5 became my comfort. I was falling short of all I thought I should be doing as a good Christian, but I could persevere. So I did. I just survived.
God provided everything I needed to keep my head above water. My friends were there praying, supporting, role modeling. Family was nearby to provide much needed breaks and help. We had what we needed to eat, have electricity and put gas in our cars. I maintained perspective, sticking to the truth of "This too will pass."
And then during an annual retreat with some fellow moms, my good friend introduced me to this piece of Scripture:
He tends his flock like a shepherd:
He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young.--Isaiah 40:11 (NIV)
Meditating upon these verses, I reached a turning point in my career. God doesn't just have grace for all of our sins, He has grace for us in all of our circumstances. He knows every minute detail of our daily grind. Of course he would allow for more or less grace, depending on what is going on. Because He is a compassionate God.
So those days when I would fall into a deep sleep during quiet, praying times-- He knew what I needed and probably induced that. The days I thought the kids wouldn't stop crying and I was washing purposely painted excrement off the walls, He sustained me and the day would end quickly. The times I was at my worst and losing a grip on my faith, He would gently tip my chin up, put His hands on my shoulders and keep me walking forward.
His love never failed. I persevered through those early years. I held on to God's gentle hand. And He led me to quiet waters.
Well, as quiet as 5 kids can get. . .
I'm not half-way through my career yet. And I don't know what the next 10 years is going to look like. There are, for certain, more trials to come.
But I can say this: that through perseverance, through standing firm in Truth and not feelings, I have discovered the allusive joy and foreign peace.
I persevered. Because I persevered, I gained character. Because I gained character, I was given hope. And this hope doesn't disappoint because of His love, given to us by the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is a constant when we stand firm in faith.
And it must be mentioned that the world is not about me. I am not the center of the universe. There is a bigger picture, a picture larger than the universe. The "Kingdom Business", as Paster Glen Snyder puts it, is not about making me feel great. It's not about making my life easier. At least, not until it's my turn to enter the gates of Heaven.
The "Kingdom Business" is about restoring man to God. And He's already taken the pivotal step: coming down as man, dying on the cross to take our punishment for sin, then rising from the dead as no other god can do. Now the Big Boss wants us to take this love He gave us and love Him back. In loving Him back, He wants us to love all His peoples.
Included in these peoples are the little peoples. The ones entrusted into our care. The ones who push our buttons, embarrass us in the grocery store, bite their Sunday school teachers, wake us up in the middle of the night because they fear "can't-see-ems", play with our faces when we let them snuggle with us early in the mornings, cry during family pictures, poop their pants in Costco, treat Wal-Mart like a park, make you change into pajamas because they've garfed all over your clean outfits, and leave floaties in your much anticipated glass of juice.
God never said it would be easy. He just told us to do it. Love them. Joyfully and Have Peace.
But how?
I am glad to say that in this current second, my trials are not tribulations. My trials are more like irritations (thanks for the distinction, Beth Moore). But it's not to say that my irritations are not wearisome. I am actually in a constant state of weariness. Not just physically from my new-found exercise hobby. But bone-weariness and grouchiness to boot.
Yet, I have found out how to have Joy and Peace through it all. I have found out how to have Joy and Peace through unhappiness and discomfort.
It's perseverance-- sticking to the truth, and not relying on feelings. Keep on keeping on. Get through the day. Then start over in the morning.
It's perspective-- lowering expectations and remembering that life isn't about "me". Stick to the Kingdom Business.
It's honesty and humility-- seeking help where help is needed.
It's having character-- loving people, loving the children, loving the Hubbie, and doing what is right and true.
It's having hope-- God is good, no matter how we feel. "It will all be okay." is a cliche for a reason. Use it until it becomes an over-used cliche. And then use it again. Because God is good.
So breathe in the Holy Spirit, breathe out all else-- self-doubt, burn-out, stress, worry, negativity, ungratefulness, selfishness, bitterness. . .
You were chosen for one of the most noblest tasks. . .employed by the perfect Almighty Big Boss. . .Your work has not gone unnoticed. . .And there is reward waiting for you at the end. . . .Keep working, fellow mothers. . .When God is for us, who can be against us?
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Family Council. . .Blog Day #29
I have written before about this new stage in life I'm entering: the big kids phase. Everything in my life is looking differently than it did even just 3 years ago. Bedtime routines are easier, with only 2 kids needing to be tucked in. I only have to buckle one child into his car seat. The big kids can read, so they can pick out TV shows for themselves and for the littles. Everyone but Henry can swim, so I can truly relax at the pool.
And Family Council has been incorporated into our routine. Johnny and I have stressed its importance and the kids look forward to it every month.
It's simple, really. Now that we aren't outnumbered by toddlers, even the four year old participates. Henry does not, but he enjoys the pizza and dessert.
So it looks a little like this:
First, we have a little notebook to keep the minutes in. During the month, I write little notes in it and keep a time-card. I fine them anywhere from $0.25 to $0.75 for dawdling, talking back, not listening and obeying at chore time. I add $1.00 to $3.00 for extra chores and in Lela's case, helping with Henry. Johnny and I will plan ahead on what needs to be talked about, or if any family events are coming up.
On the day of family council, which is usually within the first week of every month, we inform the kids as to when we will be meeting. It's a pizza night, and one kid will get to prepare and serve the snack. Before we sit down, we all stand behind our assigned seats and look to the book to see who gets to pick a new seat first. The kids usually remember, but we keep a record anyway.
We go in order of age, with the exception of Henry, who always has to sit next to me. In June, it is Daddy's turn to pick his seat first. We stay in our assigned seats until next family council.
We take prayer requests, and then open up in prayer. It is great to pray as a family.
We eat pizza. While we are eating, we change seating assignments for the car, which is also by age. The three oldest take monthly turns sitting in shotgun (don't worry, the airbag turns off). We talk about the month's assigned chores for mornings, afternoons, and evenings.
We discuss problems and brainstorm solutions. The most common problems: cleaning up after oneself, flushing toilets and hanging up towels, and turning off the lights and shutting the doors when you leave a room.
We give compliments and show our appreciation for each other. Johnny and I try to spotlight on specific times when the kids did exceptionally well. In May, it was how much the kids listened and obeyed on Easter day when I was playing the piano at church and while I was at home cooking our big meal.
We talk about upcoming events. If we are planning on a hike, we discuss rules. If we are planning to go camping, we menu plan and make a list of activities we'd like to participate in. If there is a family vacation, we talk about expectations and money (ex. going to Disneyland but we will not buy souvenirs or ask to buy souvenirs).
By this time, Henry is usually ready to get out of his seat and the kids are getting restless. So the child who prepared the snack will serve the snack as dessert. Usually, it's brownies. In May, Johnny decided to give them hot chocolate with one gigantic marshmallow in each cup. I wouldn't recommend this. The marshmallows, which were bigger than Zoe's hand, were a bit of a distraction.
As soon as snack is over, allowance is paid. In our family, allowance is more like "family fun." In order to participate in "family fun", you have to participate in "family work". So while the kids do have quite a bit of chores, they also get to have money of their own. Our pay-scale is this: $10 at 10 years old, $5 at 5 years old, and $3 for under 5. It's not much, but all we can afford. They each get paid, one at a time in dollar bills, the base pay and then whatever extras they earned. After receiving all of their "paycheck", they pay any fines owed. They take the moneys and put them in their designated envelopes: savings, tithing, and spending.
We quickly clear the table, and move to the school room where I play the piano and we sing together as a family. That is new, as of last month.
And the meeting is adjourned. If the meeting is held on a weekend evening, then it's movie night. If not, then those who put their pajamas on in a timely fashion get to watch a little TV before bed..
In writing, it doesn't seem as exciting as it is in real life. But the benefits of training the kids to spend one night exclusively with us and each other is priceless. Through this monthly meeting we get the chance to pray as a whole, to openly discuss what the needs are, to learn to express appreciation in the spoken word, and to cultivate the togetherness that needs to be there if we are to be a tight-knit family.
It seemed so impossible when I had three toddlers and I felt like I was in the bathroom all day being the toilet monitor and butt-wiper.
But as my little babies grow older, we can function a little differently. As each child grows in maturity, we use their independence to our advantage. We incorporate them into a monthly family business meeting and connect with them by allowing them to contribute to the decisions we make.
Each month, we have a reminder that we are a family unit, and that we all belong to each other.
Family Council, I love it. . .
And Family Council has been incorporated into our routine. Johnny and I have stressed its importance and the kids look forward to it every month.
It's simple, really. Now that we aren't outnumbered by toddlers, even the four year old participates. Henry does not, but he enjoys the pizza and dessert.
So it looks a little like this:
First, we have a little notebook to keep the minutes in. During the month, I write little notes in it and keep a time-card. I fine them anywhere from $0.25 to $0.75 for dawdling, talking back, not listening and obeying at chore time. I add $1.00 to $3.00 for extra chores and in Lela's case, helping with Henry. Johnny and I will plan ahead on what needs to be talked about, or if any family events are coming up.
On the day of family council, which is usually within the first week of every month, we inform the kids as to when we will be meeting. It's a pizza night, and one kid will get to prepare and serve the snack. Before we sit down, we all stand behind our assigned seats and look to the book to see who gets to pick a new seat first. The kids usually remember, but we keep a record anyway.
We go in order of age, with the exception of Henry, who always has to sit next to me. In June, it is Daddy's turn to pick his seat first. We stay in our assigned seats until next family council.
We take prayer requests, and then open up in prayer. It is great to pray as a family.
We eat pizza. While we are eating, we change seating assignments for the car, which is also by age. The three oldest take monthly turns sitting in shotgun (don't worry, the airbag turns off). We talk about the month's assigned chores for mornings, afternoons, and evenings.
We discuss problems and brainstorm solutions. The most common problems: cleaning up after oneself, flushing toilets and hanging up towels, and turning off the lights and shutting the doors when you leave a room.
We give compliments and show our appreciation for each other. Johnny and I try to spotlight on specific times when the kids did exceptionally well. In May, it was how much the kids listened and obeyed on Easter day when I was playing the piano at church and while I was at home cooking our big meal.
We talk about upcoming events. If we are planning on a hike, we discuss rules. If we are planning to go camping, we menu plan and make a list of activities we'd like to participate in. If there is a family vacation, we talk about expectations and money (ex. going to Disneyland but we will not buy souvenirs or ask to buy souvenirs).
By this time, Henry is usually ready to get out of his seat and the kids are getting restless. So the child who prepared the snack will serve the snack as dessert. Usually, it's brownies. In May, Johnny decided to give them hot chocolate with one gigantic marshmallow in each cup. I wouldn't recommend this. The marshmallows, which were bigger than Zoe's hand, were a bit of a distraction.
As soon as snack is over, allowance is paid. In our family, allowance is more like "family fun." In order to participate in "family fun", you have to participate in "family work". So while the kids do have quite a bit of chores, they also get to have money of their own. Our pay-scale is this: $10 at 10 years old, $5 at 5 years old, and $3 for under 5. It's not much, but all we can afford. They each get paid, one at a time in dollar bills, the base pay and then whatever extras they earned. After receiving all of their "paycheck", they pay any fines owed. They take the moneys and put them in their designated envelopes: savings, tithing, and spending.
We quickly clear the table, and move to the school room where I play the piano and we sing together as a family. That is new, as of last month.
And the meeting is adjourned. If the meeting is held on a weekend evening, then it's movie night. If not, then those who put their pajamas on in a timely fashion get to watch a little TV before bed..
In writing, it doesn't seem as exciting as it is in real life. But the benefits of training the kids to spend one night exclusively with us and each other is priceless. Through this monthly meeting we get the chance to pray as a whole, to openly discuss what the needs are, to learn to express appreciation in the spoken word, and to cultivate the togetherness that needs to be there if we are to be a tight-knit family.
It seemed so impossible when I had three toddlers and I felt like I was in the bathroom all day being the toilet monitor and butt-wiper.
But as my little babies grow older, we can function a little differently. As each child grows in maturity, we use their independence to our advantage. We incorporate them into a monthly family business meeting and connect with them by allowing them to contribute to the decisions we make.
Each month, we have a reminder that we are a family unit, and that we all belong to each other.
Family Council, I love it. . .
How to Be a Successful Parent Without Trying. . .Blog Day #28
What is your version of a good parent?
What do you measure your success with? Behavior? Clean children? Kids who don't squeeze the bread in the grocery store?
One day I had sent all the kids to the car to go to swim practice. Lela was in charge of buckling Henry in and giving him his blanket. Ten minutes later I heard some commotion outside and found that they were all running around the street like wild animals. Two of them were barefoot, and one had not gotten his Speedo on. They had also let the dog out so she was barking and running around chasing pigeons. Henry was on the sidewalk, pointing to a sister across the street, and wanting to go get her.
"Get in the car!" I yelled, but to no avail. Finally, I screamed, "I am going to count to 10 and you need to get in the car!"
I started counting, slowly so they had time to run from where they were and seat themselves in the car. Which they did. I buckled Henry in and found out that no one had their swim bags, Ethan couldn't find his Speedo and Charlotte didn't know where her shoes were. Lela was making obnoxious noises (she would say she was singing) and Zoe had peed her panties. And I had forgotten my keys in the house.
It's days like this that make me feel like a failure. Did I do something wrong to make life so crazy? Maybe if I were a better mom I wouldn't have days like this. . .
My good friend, Megan, and I agreed that it would be nice to have a do-over. "God, can we start over? With a new set of kids, now that we know what to do?"
There are other things that make me feel like a failure. . . .the endless mound of laundry on my couch, the clutter on my kitchen hutch, the dirty laundry spilling out into the hallway from the laundry room, the child who pitches a fit every time I tell her she can't color when it's reading time, the toddler whose hair is slicked back with oatmeal as hair gel, the Comet spilled all around the toilet instead of inside the toilet... I could probably go on for days. . .
It's the daily grind, the mundane chores, the amount of responsibilities I have but can't get to that cause me to feel like I fall way short of the Good Mother award.
But most of the time, the reality of it all is that I try too hard.
I have this picture in my mind of a calm, gentle, loving and nurturing mother whose children love her soo much they obey compulsively. If they do make mistakes, she wisely and quietly corrects them and they immediately say, "Yes, Mother." Everyone is dressed nicely, hair combed and fixed, matching socks, matching shoes, bathed on a daily basis with soap. Beds are made with fitted sheet, flat sheet tucked in, bedspread, comforter, decorative pillows and regular pillows and matching valences to boot. Oh, and did I mention that all the bedding is sewn by said mother? And the beds are never stripped for impromptu fort building right before they have to leave for an appointment.
This is not real. I am quite the opposite. I yell, threaten, throw bundled urine-filled diapers to catch a kid's attention, hide in the bathroom while kids are jumping on couches and dog is eating abandoned bowls of cereal on the table, ignore the giant loads of clean laundry that needs to be folded, and make the toddler wear two different socks because I don't feel like finding some matching ones for her.
Yet if you met my kids, you would know that they are very happy. They enjoy each other's company, rarely says anything mean-spirited about any one, notices if someone is a believer of Jesus or not, and act like kids who are secure in their parents' love for them. Their dad works long hours and is often gone or sleeping, but they show no bitterness and treat him like he's around all the time. They have compassion for the poor, empathy for kids who are hurt, and the ability to share in other people's joy. They are all independent, able to help with cleaning the house, trustworthy outside, and looks out for the little ones.
And I truly believe that it's not about my effort, though I'd like to think so.
I am far from being that ideal mom who does everything with a smile.
Yet, I can say that my first 10 years as a parent have been successful. I believe I've got a pretty solid foundation for the next 16 years of parenting.
So how do you be a successful parent without trying?
By trying, I mean by doing everything. Cleaning, sweeping, laundering, cooking, gardening, driving, teaching, volunteering, sewing, spending, signing up for soccer, coaching, team parenting. While these things are great and we must be a good steward of all things given us, parenting is not about the house.
It's about the home. . .So here's a few ways to be successful at parenting without trying:
So the secret of my success: I've learned, and am learning, to lower my own expectations of myself. I have learned, and am still learning, that I need to stop trying so hard to be "perfect." Cleaning only until comfortable, cooking a few convenience foods, putting the kids in front of the tv when I'm having a tough day. . .My parenting isn't perfect. My kids are not perfect. Despite all our combined shortcomings, they are all learning to love Jesus, to love people, to love each other. They are solid on their feet, come to me for help, feel secure in their trust in me and aren't afraid to laugh and play even when I'm in my worst temper.
God fills in the blanks, you are just there to nurture, to guide with a gentle but firm hand, to teach them how to view things with God's eyes. Leave the gourmet organic cooking, crafty and artsy activities, quiet and sitting still kids for the fictional books.
Stop trying so hard.
What do you measure your success with? Behavior? Clean children? Kids who don't squeeze the bread in the grocery store?
One day I had sent all the kids to the car to go to swim practice. Lela was in charge of buckling Henry in and giving him his blanket. Ten minutes later I heard some commotion outside and found that they were all running around the street like wild animals. Two of them were barefoot, and one had not gotten his Speedo on. They had also let the dog out so she was barking and running around chasing pigeons. Henry was on the sidewalk, pointing to a sister across the street, and wanting to go get her.
"Get in the car!" I yelled, but to no avail. Finally, I screamed, "I am going to count to 10 and you need to get in the car!"
I started counting, slowly so they had time to run from where they were and seat themselves in the car. Which they did. I buckled Henry in and found out that no one had their swim bags, Ethan couldn't find his Speedo and Charlotte didn't know where her shoes were. Lela was making obnoxious noises (she would say she was singing) and Zoe had peed her panties. And I had forgotten my keys in the house.
It's days like this that make me feel like a failure. Did I do something wrong to make life so crazy? Maybe if I were a better mom I wouldn't have days like this. . .
My good friend, Megan, and I agreed that it would be nice to have a do-over. "God, can we start over? With a new set of kids, now that we know what to do?"
There are other things that make me feel like a failure. . . .the endless mound of laundry on my couch, the clutter on my kitchen hutch, the dirty laundry spilling out into the hallway from the laundry room, the child who pitches a fit every time I tell her she can't color when it's reading time, the toddler whose hair is slicked back with oatmeal as hair gel, the Comet spilled all around the toilet instead of inside the toilet... I could probably go on for days. . .
It's the daily grind, the mundane chores, the amount of responsibilities I have but can't get to that cause me to feel like I fall way short of the Good Mother award.
But most of the time, the reality of it all is that I try too hard.
I have this picture in my mind of a calm, gentle, loving and nurturing mother whose children love her soo much they obey compulsively. If they do make mistakes, she wisely and quietly corrects them and they immediately say, "Yes, Mother." Everyone is dressed nicely, hair combed and fixed, matching socks, matching shoes, bathed on a daily basis with soap. Beds are made with fitted sheet, flat sheet tucked in, bedspread, comforter, decorative pillows and regular pillows and matching valences to boot. Oh, and did I mention that all the bedding is sewn by said mother? And the beds are never stripped for impromptu fort building right before they have to leave for an appointment.
This is not real. I am quite the opposite. I yell, threaten, throw bundled urine-filled diapers to catch a kid's attention, hide in the bathroom while kids are jumping on couches and dog is eating abandoned bowls of cereal on the table, ignore the giant loads of clean laundry that needs to be folded, and make the toddler wear two different socks because I don't feel like finding some matching ones for her.
Yet if you met my kids, you would know that they are very happy. They enjoy each other's company, rarely says anything mean-spirited about any one, notices if someone is a believer of Jesus or not, and act like kids who are secure in their parents' love for them. Their dad works long hours and is often gone or sleeping, but they show no bitterness and treat him like he's around all the time. They have compassion for the poor, empathy for kids who are hurt, and the ability to share in other people's joy. They are all independent, able to help with cleaning the house, trustworthy outside, and looks out for the little ones.
And I truly believe that it's not about my effort, though I'd like to think so.
I am far from being that ideal mom who does everything with a smile.
Yet, I can say that my first 10 years as a parent have been successful. I believe I've got a pretty solid foundation for the next 16 years of parenting.
So how do you be a successful parent without trying?
By trying, I mean by doing everything. Cleaning, sweeping, laundering, cooking, gardening, driving, teaching, volunteering, sewing, spending, signing up for soccer, coaching, team parenting. While these things are great and we must be a good steward of all things given us, parenting is not about the house.
It's about the home. . .So here's a few ways to be successful at parenting without trying:
- Allow your kids to develop their own personality while still obeying your rules.
- Teach your kids to be able play independently, or with siblings. You are not a playmate/friend. That comes later.
- You are at least 20 years older than them. Don't let them crawl under your skin.
- Teach them good manners. . .When you say, "Use your polite manners." They should know which phrase to use under the circumstances. Ex) "Thank you for inviting us over.", or "Yes, please." or "Will you please pass the french fries?"
- While you want cooperation, teach them that you love them and it's your job to have them listen and obey. Expecting respect for you and your spouse saves a lot of grief and drama. Which means that you have to be respectable. Ouch.
- Open ended questions, for a toddler, are overwhelming. Narrow it down for them, and then if they can't decide, then the next two choices should be, "Do you want to pick, or do you want me to?"
- Remember that it's not your job to necessarily understand them, but to love them.
- Remember that it is not your job to accomplish everything on your to-do list. An immaculate house probably means the kids were outside messing up your yard. An immaculate yard either means you have money for a garden guy or the kids were busy messing up your immaculate house while you did your yard.
- Treat mothering as you would any profession. Get up, get dressed, put your makeup on, and treat it like you would any career choice. The only difference is, the pay check comes in eternal rewards and you can't change careers.
- Teach the kids that the world does not revolve around them. Entitled children can be just as bad as poor behaving children. We none of us "deserve" anything. It's because of Jesus that we have what we have.
- And remember when you are scrubbing the toilets, finding "science experiments" under the beds, changing poopy diapers, dealing with tantrums, dealing with sassy mouths, resigning yourself to a constant state of tired-ness, that the world does not revolve around you.
So the secret of my success: I've learned, and am learning, to lower my own expectations of myself. I have learned, and am still learning, that I need to stop trying so hard to be "perfect." Cleaning only until comfortable, cooking a few convenience foods, putting the kids in front of the tv when I'm having a tough day. . .My parenting isn't perfect. My kids are not perfect. Despite all our combined shortcomings, they are all learning to love Jesus, to love people, to love each other. They are solid on their feet, come to me for help, feel secure in their trust in me and aren't afraid to laugh and play even when I'm in my worst temper.
God fills in the blanks, you are just there to nurture, to guide with a gentle but firm hand, to teach them how to view things with God's eyes. Leave the gourmet organic cooking, crafty and artsy activities, quiet and sitting still kids for the fictional books.
Stop trying so hard.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
The Taming of the Chinese Chick: An Addendum. . .Blog Day #27
Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come. Now all these things are from God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation, namely, that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and He has committed to us the word of reconciliation.
Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were making an appeal through us; we beg you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. 2Corinthians 5:17-21
_____________________________________________
Dwelling upon the past with regret and bitterness is never a good thing. But neither is completely ignoring it, as if it never happened. It is important that we look at the psychology behind our life experiences, for they make us who we are. We none of us are excluded from having to carry baggage. And though our individual luggage sets may differ in size and color, often we can find others who have packed similar, if not the same, items inside.
Looking into the past is never easy, especially when your past is fraught with bad memories and regretful decisions. In reflecting upon mine, I realized that in sharing through such a public forum, I needed to choose my words carefully as to not portray anyone in a bad light. There were also certain details that needed picking through. Knowing that my audience would be diverse, coming from different time periods and aspects of my life, I included only that which was pertinent to my overall theme: reconciliation.
For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. --Romans 3:23
We all have a story to tell. And if you have found salvation through Jesus, completely restoring your relationship with God, you have a past that likely contradicts your present. We all have deficiencies, sinful cravings, skeletons in the closet, etc. . .A true Bible reading, Bible following Christian acknowledges this fact, and then strives to not be controlled by said deficiencies, cravings, skeletons, etc. Walking the Walk and Talking the Talk becomes the theme for our faith and love.
But a turning point must be made. A decision to follow, or not to follow, has to be made.
I chose to follow Jesus. To risk being called religious, prudish, goody-two-shoes, Jesus-freak, ignorant, Bible thumping, narrow-minded. . . the list goes on and on. . .
In writing my story, I realize that my life was and is not about me. I am not the only one involved in my own story. Everywhere I was, I had people around me that were affected by my presence. Some of these people don't speak to me anymore, as my bad decisions affected them negatively. Some of these people are still great friends, ones who I have spent an entire lifetime knowing.
But I only have one person in mind: my mother. As my story revolved around reconciliation and how my restored relationship with God calmed my soul and set me on the right path, I had to start at the beginning to paint a picture of the psychology behind my wildness. The environment in which you are raised has an important impact on what kind of person you become.
I realize that my story involved my mother's story. She actually read my blog and commented on Facebook. She wants to tell her own story, not have others read it through me.
So I am writing this addendum to just say this:
My mother has, in my opinion, a fascinating story of reconciliation. I don't exactly know it all, but I can tell you that the woman in my story is a completely different woman now. Just as my life was spiraling out of control until I let God take the wheel, I think her life was flailing in the dark until Jesus shone a light for her to follow.
The light is what has restored our relationship, mine and hers. There's plenty of room for improvement, but I would say that I am now very blessed to have her around. She came to my aide after the births of my 5 babies, staying in uncomfortable apartments and cooking and cleaning so much that I would fight panic when it was time for her to go home. We have, as of late, been sharing common interests in Pride and Prejudice type movies, Bible-teaching books and various Christian fiction. We sit for hours at the kitchen table talking and discussing. And she has, more than once, said to "Pray about it."
Reconciliation. I had to share unpleasant details about my childhood, making the mention of a mother unavoidable. But based on the Scripture I posted at the beginning of this entry, we can say that the woman in my story is no longer in existence. My "happily ever after" involves a woman who has reconciled with God and has a restored relationship with Him who takes care of us both.
Praise be to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. . .--Ephesians 1:3
Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were making an appeal through us; we beg you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. 2Corinthians 5:17-21
_____________________________________________
Dwelling upon the past with regret and bitterness is never a good thing. But neither is completely ignoring it, as if it never happened. It is important that we look at the psychology behind our life experiences, for they make us who we are. We none of us are excluded from having to carry baggage. And though our individual luggage sets may differ in size and color, often we can find others who have packed similar, if not the same, items inside.
Looking into the past is never easy, especially when your past is fraught with bad memories and regretful decisions. In reflecting upon mine, I realized that in sharing through such a public forum, I needed to choose my words carefully as to not portray anyone in a bad light. There were also certain details that needed picking through. Knowing that my audience would be diverse, coming from different time periods and aspects of my life, I included only that which was pertinent to my overall theme: reconciliation.
For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. --Romans 3:23
We all have a story to tell. And if you have found salvation through Jesus, completely restoring your relationship with God, you have a past that likely contradicts your present. We all have deficiencies, sinful cravings, skeletons in the closet, etc. . .A true Bible reading, Bible following Christian acknowledges this fact, and then strives to not be controlled by said deficiencies, cravings, skeletons, etc. Walking the Walk and Talking the Talk becomes the theme for our faith and love.
But a turning point must be made. A decision to follow, or not to follow, has to be made.
I chose to follow Jesus. To risk being called religious, prudish, goody-two-shoes, Jesus-freak, ignorant, Bible thumping, narrow-minded. . . the list goes on and on. . .
In writing my story, I realize that my life was and is not about me. I am not the only one involved in my own story. Everywhere I was, I had people around me that were affected by my presence. Some of these people don't speak to me anymore, as my bad decisions affected them negatively. Some of these people are still great friends, ones who I have spent an entire lifetime knowing.
But I only have one person in mind: my mother. As my story revolved around reconciliation and how my restored relationship with God calmed my soul and set me on the right path, I had to start at the beginning to paint a picture of the psychology behind my wildness. The environment in which you are raised has an important impact on what kind of person you become.
I realize that my story involved my mother's story. She actually read my blog and commented on Facebook. She wants to tell her own story, not have others read it through me.
So I am writing this addendum to just say this:
My mother has, in my opinion, a fascinating story of reconciliation. I don't exactly know it all, but I can tell you that the woman in my story is a completely different woman now. Just as my life was spiraling out of control until I let God take the wheel, I think her life was flailing in the dark until Jesus shone a light for her to follow.
The light is what has restored our relationship, mine and hers. There's plenty of room for improvement, but I would say that I am now very blessed to have her around. She came to my aide after the births of my 5 babies, staying in uncomfortable apartments and cooking and cleaning so much that I would fight panic when it was time for her to go home. We have, as of late, been sharing common interests in Pride and Prejudice type movies, Bible-teaching books and various Christian fiction. We sit for hours at the kitchen table talking and discussing. And she has, more than once, said to "Pray about it."
Reconciliation. I had to share unpleasant details about my childhood, making the mention of a mother unavoidable. But based on the Scripture I posted at the beginning of this entry, we can say that the woman in my story is no longer in existence. My "happily ever after" involves a woman who has reconciled with God and has a restored relationship with Him who takes care of us both.
Praise be to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. . .--Ephesians 1:3
Sunday, May 22, 2011
The Taming of the Chinese Chick: Part 2. . .Blog Day #25
UCDavis always starts their school year late. So I was chomping at the bit when the end of September came and it was time for me to move into the dorms. I was beyond excited to be on my own, to have my own place. I loved who I was rooming with, and met some of the other people on my floor. We rode our bikes and explored the campus and tested out the dining commons together. College looked promising.
Then classes actually started. I was in shock. I had no study skills for my full load of classes, attended fraternity parties, rarely slept at decent hours for a decent amount of time. But I was having the time of my life. I was finally free from the chains and oppression of adult supervision. I did what I wanted, when I wanted. I exchanged the old boyfriend for a new one. I spent my Thursdays through Sundays partying and hanging out. Occasionally I studied, but not really.
In one quarter, I decided that maybe pre-med wasn't for me. And biology wasn't up my alley. Now that my long-term career plans were up in the air, I was feeling a little bad that school wasn't going too well. The classes were hard, and I didn't put in the effort to really study and focus. Being a student wasn't what it used to be. . .
But, I was having fun. . .The new boyfriend was wonderful, the parties were fun, and my new friends were fun. I felt I had no need of anything more.
With winter came a feud with the roommate, who was giving me the silent treatment. My grades were barely hanging in there, and emotionally I was a little wild. But, I was happy. I was doing what I wanted, when I wanted. And besides, when life was tough, you could just go out and laugh and drink and party it off. I was having fun.
When spring was just around the corner, my life started spinning out of control. I was in deep with the drinking, feeling more sick than free-spirited. I was struggling to "get right" with my studies. The boyfriend and I were not getting along.
And then, on that precipice, I finally did slip. I suffered my first real heart break. You know, the kind where your chest feels like some giant hands are squeezing it and you can practically taste the sorrow in your soul. The boyfriend and I broke up, mostly due to my rash words and arrogance in thinking that if I apologized he would forgive me. I lost control and for the first time in awhile, I was rejected.
I tried to regain my balance. I needed to have fun again. And what did I have left? Well, I was a lot of fun to party with. There were other boys that were interested in me. But mostly I was a lot of fun to party with. The alcohol seemed to temporarily calm my aching heart. People seemed to notice me and admire me when I could take multiple shots and swear like a sailor.
But the pain would come again, not only from the hangover but from the heartache. I felt like I had fallen off a cliff, but ignored the danger and refused to call for help. I tucked away the pain and saved it for the nights, when I would weep silently in the dark. If I felt anything else at all, it was stress. I drowned out the stress on the weekends with dates and parties. The precious freedom I had acquired just months before was now exhausting. Being a "normal" college kid was merely a facade to cover up a lost and hurting soul. But I was determined to have fun.
My suite-mate, Pak (like 6-pack, she says), was a Christian. The poor girl. I'm pretty sure she stayed at her friends' houses most of the time because of me. Near the end of the school year I happen to be talking with her about something (I don't remember exactly what) but she asked me, "What about Jesus? Do you know who He is?"
"Oh, I went to church when I was little, so I know who He is. I believe there's a God. But I don't really need Him. I'm having a lot of fun. . .I don't think I want to change anything."
The poor girl. Telling people about Jesus and all He has to offer is no easy thing. She was probably sweating from the effort. She was probably feeling defeated by my response. But the seed was planted. God began working in my life, even if I didn't want Him.
So I indulged myself in more fun. Especially after finals. By day my friends and I would pack our rooms. By night we would fully immerse ourselves in letting loose and laughing and drinking whatever we could get our hands on. I especially did, because I was moving home for the summer.
Move out day came, we all packed our cars, and I drove home with a monster headache and dry mouth from the short night before. I had to be careful not to drive too fast and get pulled over. I wasn't sure my system was below the legal limit. Plus my face was pale, my hair a bit frizzy, and I might have smelled like the rum that was my friend the night before.
I left home broken, hoping to fix myself and soak in my freedom. I moved back home in worse condition, struggling to maintain that euphoria I had only 9 months earlier.
I went out with some old friends, one of them including the old boyfriend. I went to a couple parties, and attempted to fit in.
I remember one particular coffee date with a friend I grew up with. I don't remember exactly where we were, but I remember the conversation. It was mostly one-sided (I'm sure you can guess which side). I remember the expression on his face. I talked on and on about an anthropology class and about how similar we are to chimpanzees and blah blah blah evolved from gorillas and blah blah blah we share DNA with other primates and maybe we evolved over time after being created. . None of this makes any sense? That's because I didn't know what I was talking about and just spat back information that was fed to me.
And he just looked at me with a patient expression. I believe his wife would know the look, "You are totally wrong but I'm going to just listen to you anyway."
I guess I need to back track just a bit, and tell you that he also had just returned from college. Oh, and back track even more, his family had taken me to church many times in high school but I never kept it up.
Anyway, the night ended with, "There's a new college group at my church and I was thinking about going. But I don't know anyone and I don't want to go by myself. Do you want to go?"
"Um, okay." It was a chance for me to meet new people and help a friend. Sure, why not?
So I went. Introductions were made. Then suddenly my friend disappeared and I was in a room with a bunch of girls and they were going to pray out loud. (Actually I don't think my friend had completely abandoned me like that, but I sure did feel like it.) Thankfully, one of the girls reassured me that if I didn't feel comfortable praying, I didn't have to. And then the meeting was over. I left with no one asking me any questions or passing any judgements. In fact, everyone had been nice to me.
So I went the next week. The meetings were fun. I didn't say very much, but I really enjoyed listening to them. Little did I know that God was applying healing ointment to my soul. God was piecing together my broken soul without my noticing. I was still living that other life, drinking and smoking and such, but I looked forward to seeing my friend and going to those meetings.
The dual-life was short lived. I couldn't keep it up. 4th of July came and I visited my roommate in Vallejo. We went to a party where I had been taking shots after drinking beer (not a recommended mix). At the end of the night, I was in the bathroom wishing I could throw up. I was looking in the mirror at my green sallow face, barely able to focus because of the spinning, and thinking, "There has got to be something better than this."
And there was. I just had to find it.
Continued in Part 3, Blog Day #26
Then classes actually started. I was in shock. I had no study skills for my full load of classes, attended fraternity parties, rarely slept at decent hours for a decent amount of time. But I was having the time of my life. I was finally free from the chains and oppression of adult supervision. I did what I wanted, when I wanted. I exchanged the old boyfriend for a new one. I spent my Thursdays through Sundays partying and hanging out. Occasionally I studied, but not really.
In one quarter, I decided that maybe pre-med wasn't for me. And biology wasn't up my alley. Now that my long-term career plans were up in the air, I was feeling a little bad that school wasn't going too well. The classes were hard, and I didn't put in the effort to really study and focus. Being a student wasn't what it used to be. . .
But, I was having fun. . .The new boyfriend was wonderful, the parties were fun, and my new friends were fun. I felt I had no need of anything more.
With winter came a feud with the roommate, who was giving me the silent treatment. My grades were barely hanging in there, and emotionally I was a little wild. But, I was happy. I was doing what I wanted, when I wanted. And besides, when life was tough, you could just go out and laugh and drink and party it off. I was having fun.
When spring was just around the corner, my life started spinning out of control. I was in deep with the drinking, feeling more sick than free-spirited. I was struggling to "get right" with my studies. The boyfriend and I were not getting along.
And then, on that precipice, I finally did slip. I suffered my first real heart break. You know, the kind where your chest feels like some giant hands are squeezing it and you can practically taste the sorrow in your soul. The boyfriend and I broke up, mostly due to my rash words and arrogance in thinking that if I apologized he would forgive me. I lost control and for the first time in awhile, I was rejected.
I tried to regain my balance. I needed to have fun again. And what did I have left? Well, I was a lot of fun to party with. There were other boys that were interested in me. But mostly I was a lot of fun to party with. The alcohol seemed to temporarily calm my aching heart. People seemed to notice me and admire me when I could take multiple shots and swear like a sailor.
But the pain would come again, not only from the hangover but from the heartache. I felt like I had fallen off a cliff, but ignored the danger and refused to call for help. I tucked away the pain and saved it for the nights, when I would weep silently in the dark. If I felt anything else at all, it was stress. I drowned out the stress on the weekends with dates and parties. The precious freedom I had acquired just months before was now exhausting. Being a "normal" college kid was merely a facade to cover up a lost and hurting soul. But I was determined to have fun.
My suite-mate, Pak (like 6-pack, she says), was a Christian. The poor girl. I'm pretty sure she stayed at her friends' houses most of the time because of me. Near the end of the school year I happen to be talking with her about something (I don't remember exactly what) but she asked me, "What about Jesus? Do you know who He is?"
"Oh, I went to church when I was little, so I know who He is. I believe there's a God. But I don't really need Him. I'm having a lot of fun. . .I don't think I want to change anything."
The poor girl. Telling people about Jesus and all He has to offer is no easy thing. She was probably sweating from the effort. She was probably feeling defeated by my response. But the seed was planted. God began working in my life, even if I didn't want Him.
So I indulged myself in more fun. Especially after finals. By day my friends and I would pack our rooms. By night we would fully immerse ourselves in letting loose and laughing and drinking whatever we could get our hands on. I especially did, because I was moving home for the summer.
Move out day came, we all packed our cars, and I drove home with a monster headache and dry mouth from the short night before. I had to be careful not to drive too fast and get pulled over. I wasn't sure my system was below the legal limit. Plus my face was pale, my hair a bit frizzy, and I might have smelled like the rum that was my friend the night before.
I left home broken, hoping to fix myself and soak in my freedom. I moved back home in worse condition, struggling to maintain that euphoria I had only 9 months earlier.
I went out with some old friends, one of them including the old boyfriend. I went to a couple parties, and attempted to fit in.
I remember one particular coffee date with a friend I grew up with. I don't remember exactly where we were, but I remember the conversation. It was mostly one-sided (I'm sure you can guess which side). I remember the expression on his face. I talked on and on about an anthropology class and about how similar we are to chimpanzees and blah blah blah evolved from gorillas and blah blah blah we share DNA with other primates and maybe we evolved over time after being created. . None of this makes any sense? That's because I didn't know what I was talking about and just spat back information that was fed to me.
And he just looked at me with a patient expression. I believe his wife would know the look, "You are totally wrong but I'm going to just listen to you anyway."
I guess I need to back track just a bit, and tell you that he also had just returned from college. Oh, and back track even more, his family had taken me to church many times in high school but I never kept it up.
Anyway, the night ended with, "There's a new college group at my church and I was thinking about going. But I don't know anyone and I don't want to go by myself. Do you want to go?"
"Um, okay." It was a chance for me to meet new people and help a friend. Sure, why not?
So I went. Introductions were made. Then suddenly my friend disappeared and I was in a room with a bunch of girls and they were going to pray out loud. (Actually I don't think my friend had completely abandoned me like that, but I sure did feel like it.) Thankfully, one of the girls reassured me that if I didn't feel comfortable praying, I didn't have to. And then the meeting was over. I left with no one asking me any questions or passing any judgements. In fact, everyone had been nice to me.
So I went the next week. The meetings were fun. I didn't say very much, but I really enjoyed listening to them. Little did I know that God was applying healing ointment to my soul. God was piecing together my broken soul without my noticing. I was still living that other life, drinking and smoking and such, but I looked forward to seeing my friend and going to those meetings.
The dual-life was short lived. I couldn't keep it up. 4th of July came and I visited my roommate in Vallejo. We went to a party where I had been taking shots after drinking beer (not a recommended mix). At the end of the night, I was in the bathroom wishing I could throw up. I was looking in the mirror at my green sallow face, barely able to focus because of the spinning, and thinking, "There has got to be something better than this."
And there was. I just had to find it.
Continued in Part 3, Blog Day #26
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Kids? To Have, or Not? How Many?--Part 2. . .Blog Day #23
So I am pro-kids. Have them, if you can. If you can't, but want to, what better home for a needy unwanted child than one with a couple who passionately wants to raise up a new generation with love and safety. Don't think about it. Just take that leap of faith. Children are blessings. That is something the Bible will definitely support.
Now on to the issue of family size.
How many kids should you have?
Again, with today's convenient access to contraceptives and birth control, we have many ways to determine how many kids and when.
Again, I emphasize that just because we can choose, doesn't necessarily mean we should. God is a good God. He can and will take care of anything we need:
Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.
But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith!
Do not worry then, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear for clothing? For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.--Matthew 6:26-34 (NASB)
Okay, so I'm not totally advocating having as many babies as you can. Having 12 kids, while doable, is not everyone's calling. It wasn't mine. But, then again, why not? Like I said before, if that is what God wants me to do, and I am willing to do what He wants, then He is sure to provide us with what we need to get the job done.
But then again, 12 kids. Or more? It makes me shudder just to think about it.
Let's just keep it simple. "Should we have another?" Take it one kid at a time.
Before I tell you my answer to the question. . .let's dispel three myths.
Myth #1: Our house is not big enough for more.
I have heard this said about people who have 2 children, thinking that they need one bedroom for each child. If some rich person were to bequeth to me a 7 bedroom house, you won't see me refusing the incredible blessing. But having lived in a 3rd story 1100 square foot apartment with four small children, I will tell you that small spaces are doable. Not always fun, but doable. Children can share. In fact, it is better for them to share. And how advantagous for their future marriages. All this to say, that what you have is probably sufficient. If it provides adequate shelter, heat for the cold and air for the hot, electricity and running water. . .plus somewhere soft to sleep, then that is great. It's more than what most of the world has. Then add on a loving, warm, attentive, safe and Godly atmosphere and it becomes home. A big house, though helpful, is not a requirement for having more children. Nor should it be.
Myth #2: We can't afford more.
Ok, so there are times when this is valid. Husbands need to be responsible, and do what needs to be done to provide for their families. If you don't have a job, and aren't looking for one, how will you provide for these small humans who cannot fend for themselves? I understand these concerns. But, speaking from experience, what would your children be lacking?
Myth #3: I don't think I can handle more.
I won't lie, parenting is hard. But it is hard no matter what. If you have one, he/she constantly demands your attention and sometimes has trouble interacting with peers. If you have two, you'll feel divided in half while you try and juggle both children's needs. If you have three, you have more children than hands and you have to come up with a system to handle and control the chaos. If you have four. . .well, it's the same as three. Just noisier. If you have five or more. ..you change focus and your household becomes a team of contributors that you have to train, manage and oversee. All family sizes difficult in their own way. You don't think you can handle it? No one does. Yet, with prayer and God's strength, we do sufficiently.
So should you have another? I can't answer that for you. I can tell you that the more you think about it, the more impossible it will seem. So stop thinking it over. If there is even one iota of willingness in your heart, I say to go for it. Because when you are 50 and your child-bearing/rearing days are through, you'll never regret having the one more. But you may regret not having one more.
Everyone's situation is different. Every pregnancy is different, even for the same woman. Every person has a different relationship with God. What He tells you is between you and Him. Trust Him. Obey Him. He will never fail you. Be open to what He wants. . .the outcome will be more wonderful than you can imagine. . .Just be sure that the issue of family size doesn't come from the world's list of requirements. Having children can have eternal consequences. . .especially in your own walk with God. . .So let Him guide you. . .
Now on to the issue of family size.
How many kids should you have?
Again, with today's convenient access to contraceptives and birth control, we have many ways to determine how many kids and when.
Again, I emphasize that just because we can choose, doesn't necessarily mean we should. God is a good God. He can and will take care of anything we need:
Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.
But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith!
Do not worry then, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear for clothing? For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.--Matthew 6:26-34 (NASB)
Okay, so I'm not totally advocating having as many babies as you can. Having 12 kids, while doable, is not everyone's calling. It wasn't mine. But, then again, why not? Like I said before, if that is what God wants me to do, and I am willing to do what He wants, then He is sure to provide us with what we need to get the job done.
But then again, 12 kids. Or more? It makes me shudder just to think about it.
Let's just keep it simple. "Should we have another?" Take it one kid at a time.
Before I tell you my answer to the question. . .let's dispel three myths.
Myth #1: Our house is not big enough for more.
I have heard this said about people who have 2 children, thinking that they need one bedroom for each child. If some rich person were to bequeth to me a 7 bedroom house, you won't see me refusing the incredible blessing. But having lived in a 3rd story 1100 square foot apartment with four small children, I will tell you that small spaces are doable. Not always fun, but doable. Children can share. In fact, it is better for them to share. And how advantagous for their future marriages. All this to say, that what you have is probably sufficient. If it provides adequate shelter, heat for the cold and air for the hot, electricity and running water. . .plus somewhere soft to sleep, then that is great. It's more than what most of the world has. Then add on a loving, warm, attentive, safe and Godly atmosphere and it becomes home. A big house, though helpful, is not a requirement for having more children. Nor should it be.
Myth #2: We can't afford more.
Ok, so there are times when this is valid. Husbands need to be responsible, and do what needs to be done to provide for their families. If you don't have a job, and aren't looking for one, how will you provide for these small humans who cannot fend for themselves? I understand these concerns. But, speaking from experience, what would your children be lacking?
- Clothes? Hand-me-downs are great. And when they are older, they prefer to wear the same outfits over and over anyway. . .
- Toys? Wow, don't even get me started on toys. Most of them don't get played with. I can't even tell you how many Polly Pocket shoes I've vacuumed, doll hair I've cleaned up, and Lego's I've thrown away. My kids end up playing "pretend" most of the time. And forts can be made with their blankets and pillows. And usually, when one sibling is obsessing over something, the others will too. Thomas the Train is fun at all ages!
- Extra activites? I have to be careful here, or I'll have to eat my own words. . .but they don't need to know how to do everything. (ouch). Lately I have picked just a few things that are important to us. And we scrounge to pay for them. And some we have scholarships. But, honestly, we could do away with everything and still be okay. Just don't tell my husband I said that.
- Food? Ok, I admit that my refrigerator is often empty at the end of the month. But, home cooking is yummy. And I feed the 5 kids on $150 a week. In a culture that is obsessed with having your fill and more, we think we have to serve these giant portions and that any twinge of hunger is a bad thing. Well, actually, I've found that it's ok for them to be a little hungry sometimes. They are healthy children and can wait an hour for dinner (most of the time.). I cook a healthy meal with real ingredients, they are hungry and so it's tasty, and since it is healthy no one needs to eat as much as if you ate at MacDonald's. And you won't have to worry about eating out. Because who in their right mind takes 3 or more children to a restaurant on a weekly basis?
Myth #3: I don't think I can handle more.
I won't lie, parenting is hard. But it is hard no matter what. If you have one, he/she constantly demands your attention and sometimes has trouble interacting with peers. If you have two, you'll feel divided in half while you try and juggle both children's needs. If you have three, you have more children than hands and you have to come up with a system to handle and control the chaos. If you have four. . .well, it's the same as three. Just noisier. If you have five or more. ..you change focus and your household becomes a team of contributors that you have to train, manage and oversee. All family sizes difficult in their own way. You don't think you can handle it? No one does. Yet, with prayer and God's strength, we do sufficiently.
So should you have another? I can't answer that for you. I can tell you that the more you think about it, the more impossible it will seem. So stop thinking it over. If there is even one iota of willingness in your heart, I say to go for it. Because when you are 50 and your child-bearing/rearing days are through, you'll never regret having the one more. But you may regret not having one more.
Everyone's situation is different. Every pregnancy is different, even for the same woman. Every person has a different relationship with God. What He tells you is between you and Him. Trust Him. Obey Him. He will never fail you. Be open to what He wants. . .the outcome will be more wonderful than you can imagine. . .Just be sure that the issue of family size doesn't come from the world's list of requirements. Having children can have eternal consequences. . .especially in your own walk with God. . .So let Him guide you. . .
 |
| Christmas 2010. .Don't ask me what's going on with Zoe. But there always has to be one kid who doesn't cooperate. |
 |
| "Look Mommy! I'm a knife!" |
 |
| Camping with Daddy. Yes, without me. Totally do-able. . . |
 | |
| You do the best you can with the best you have. . .It all turns out fine in the end. |
Kids? To Have, or Not, and How Many?--Part 1. . .Blog Day #22
"Did you always plan to have a big family?" Nope.
"What made you decide to have a big family?" I didn't.
"How many kids were you planning to have?" One.
"I don't know how you do it." Me neither.
Honestly, having 5 children was not on my bucket list. There are days when I have no idea what I'm doing, or whether or not the kids will make it passed their tenth birthday. There are days when they are unsupervised outside, playing hide-n-go seek in other people's front porches, and leaving traces of wrappers, chalk, socks, shoes, and toys all over the neighborhood. I've been admonished in more than one store to keep my kids in check. And I have, more than once, yelled at the kids to get out of the refrigerators at Costco.
I know this doesn't make big families sound very fun. . .But they really are. Despite the constant chaos and the never-ending workload, I wouldn't trade my life for anyone's. It is an honor for God to believe that my husband and I are suited for such a task: to raise five human beings to know Him, to make decisions based on what they've learned, and to love people the way God does. Not an easy task, granted, but a noble one.
That said, I want you to set aside any preconceived notions of big families (especially Jon&Kate+8). Family size needs to be thought of from the beginning.
And by the beginning, I mean your marriage. Yes, marriage. I know there's a trend for unconventional means of parenting (single by choice, gay couples, unmarried but living together, etc.) and those I can talk about in a different blog if you wish. But I'm going to assume you are married, or about to be.
As soon as you walk down that aisle and speak your vows in front of witnesses, you have become a family. You are no longer two separate people, but two pieces of one unit striving to move together in one direction. In-laws, relatives, friends, parents all become secondary to your spouse. Every morning is a choice to love the other, even with morning breath and bedhead.
And this choice to love creates an atmosphere of intimacy. . .Emotional, spiritual and physical intimacy. God created us for this. It is why, even at an early age, we desire to be loved and wanted. But this level of "giving yourself away" is reserved for marriage. That is why, when you have a good marriage it is so rewarding. And when you "fail" at marriage, it is so heartbreaking.
Marriage is the most important relationship to work on and cultivate. Nothing, aside from a relationship with Jesus, comes before your spouse. This is including the discussion of children, or even the children themselves. Disagreements happen, and common ground can seem hard to negotiate. All I can say is, soften your own heart and ask God what He wants. Look beyond your own desires and love your spouse, no matter what. Don't take things into your own hands, but wait for God to lead the way. With that in mind, let's look at the issue of having kids.
"I want another, but my wife/husband says no more."
"We are definitely not having any at all. . I'd be a terrible parent."
"I'd love to have a big family but we just can't afford it."
"I'd have another, but my husband never helps and I don't think I can handle it."
"Kids are expensive. I'd like to be more prepared."
"I see how crazy the kids are down the street, and I don't think I can do that." (whoops, sorry)
I've heard statements from all over the gambit. Some are valid: "It is dangerous for me to have any more." Some are not: "I like being able to do whatever I want whenever I want." In the Bible, there is not an explicit command: "Thou shalt have two children, one girl and one boy." Some people claim that having children is something commanded of us as a married couple. Others believe, especially with the new forms of contraception and birth control, that we can choose whether or not to have kids and how many.
I come a little in-between.
Yes, we can choose. But we can also choose to eat a box of chocolate bars. We can choose to go 90 on the freeway and get a ticket or crash. Or go 45 on the freeway and get a ticket or cause someone to crash. Life is all about choices. Even to sit on the couch and do nothing is a choice. So what matters is not whether or not we get to choose, it is what we choose.
Here's where I recommend that you let go of your unalienable rights to choose. Some people get so caught up in the right to choose, that they forget that it's making a right choice that is relevant to this conversation. And just to spite, they choose wrong in order to prove that they can. I believe this to be an atrocity. We are talking about little human lives here, not whether or not to obey Mom and Dad's rules.
And I'm not just talking about abortion. I'm talking about the ability to choose to have even one child. From a Christian perspective, I think that putting your foot down and refusing to have children, for whatever reason, is walking on thin ice. Who are we to dictate to God what we are and are not going to do? Who are we to think that we know better than He, Maker of the Universe? I might be stepping on toes here. All I'm asking you to do is check your heart. Is there arrogance there? If you were to have a conversation with a couple who are physically barren, would you seem like a petulant kid in your refusal?
I do not, at all, want to minimize the fact that children are a huge responsibility and there is a chance that we, based on our own childhood experiences, might warp a young one's mind. There is a mountain of commitment involved, and extreme humility required to be successful. And despite all our efforts, the children will turn out the way they will turn out. But God is to be trusted. The children will also turn out to be who they are supposed to be despite all our shortcomings.
So no kids at all by choice? I'm not sure I would agree it is a good choice. It is yours to make, and you might feel very justified in the decision, but I urge you to look at the reasons. If you claim to trust in God, to believe in the teachings of the Bible, then I would look passed the finances and workload and look to the blessings. For leaving a light in this world also involves leaving a legacy of God-loving children, who in turn shine bright lights to those they come into contact with. And the blessings are more than you can even imagine.
To Be Continued on Blog Day #23
"What made you decide to have a big family?" I didn't.
"How many kids were you planning to have?" One.
"I don't know how you do it." Me neither.
Honestly, having 5 children was not on my bucket list. There are days when I have no idea what I'm doing, or whether or not the kids will make it passed their tenth birthday. There are days when they are unsupervised outside, playing hide-n-go seek in other people's front porches, and leaving traces of wrappers, chalk, socks, shoes, and toys all over the neighborhood. I've been admonished in more than one store to keep my kids in check. And I have, more than once, yelled at the kids to get out of the refrigerators at Costco.
I know this doesn't make big families sound very fun. . .But they really are. Despite the constant chaos and the never-ending workload, I wouldn't trade my life for anyone's. It is an honor for God to believe that my husband and I are suited for such a task: to raise five human beings to know Him, to make decisions based on what they've learned, and to love people the way God does. Not an easy task, granted, but a noble one.
That said, I want you to set aside any preconceived notions of big families (especially Jon&Kate+8). Family size needs to be thought of from the beginning.
And by the beginning, I mean your marriage. Yes, marriage. I know there's a trend for unconventional means of parenting (single by choice, gay couples, unmarried but living together, etc.) and those I can talk about in a different blog if you wish. But I'm going to assume you are married, or about to be.
As soon as you walk down that aisle and speak your vows in front of witnesses, you have become a family. You are no longer two separate people, but two pieces of one unit striving to move together in one direction. In-laws, relatives, friends, parents all become secondary to your spouse. Every morning is a choice to love the other, even with morning breath and bedhead.
And this choice to love creates an atmosphere of intimacy. . .Emotional, spiritual and physical intimacy. God created us for this. It is why, even at an early age, we desire to be loved and wanted. But this level of "giving yourself away" is reserved for marriage. That is why, when you have a good marriage it is so rewarding. And when you "fail" at marriage, it is so heartbreaking.
Marriage is the most important relationship to work on and cultivate. Nothing, aside from a relationship with Jesus, comes before your spouse. This is including the discussion of children, or even the children themselves. Disagreements happen, and common ground can seem hard to negotiate. All I can say is, soften your own heart and ask God what He wants. Look beyond your own desires and love your spouse, no matter what. Don't take things into your own hands, but wait for God to lead the way. With that in mind, let's look at the issue of having kids.
"I want another, but my wife/husband says no more."
"We are definitely not having any at all. . I'd be a terrible parent."
"I'd love to have a big family but we just can't afford it."
"I'd have another, but my husband never helps and I don't think I can handle it."
"Kids are expensive. I'd like to be more prepared."
"I see how crazy the kids are down the street, and I don't think I can do that." (whoops, sorry)
I've heard statements from all over the gambit. Some are valid: "It is dangerous for me to have any more." Some are not: "I like being able to do whatever I want whenever I want." In the Bible, there is not an explicit command: "Thou shalt have two children, one girl and one boy." Some people claim that having children is something commanded of us as a married couple. Others believe, especially with the new forms of contraception and birth control, that we can choose whether or not to have kids and how many.
I come a little in-between.
Yes, we can choose. But we can also choose to eat a box of chocolate bars. We can choose to go 90 on the freeway and get a ticket or crash. Or go 45 on the freeway and get a ticket or cause someone to crash. Life is all about choices. Even to sit on the couch and do nothing is a choice. So what matters is not whether or not we get to choose, it is what we choose.
Here's where I recommend that you let go of your unalienable rights to choose. Some people get so caught up in the right to choose, that they forget that it's making a right choice that is relevant to this conversation. And just to spite, they choose wrong in order to prove that they can. I believe this to be an atrocity. We are talking about little human lives here, not whether or not to obey Mom and Dad's rules.
And I'm not just talking about abortion. I'm talking about the ability to choose to have even one child. From a Christian perspective, I think that putting your foot down and refusing to have children, for whatever reason, is walking on thin ice. Who are we to dictate to God what we are and are not going to do? Who are we to think that we know better than He, Maker of the Universe? I might be stepping on toes here. All I'm asking you to do is check your heart. Is there arrogance there? If you were to have a conversation with a couple who are physically barren, would you seem like a petulant kid in your refusal?
I do not, at all, want to minimize the fact that children are a huge responsibility and there is a chance that we, based on our own childhood experiences, might warp a young one's mind. There is a mountain of commitment involved, and extreme humility required to be successful. And despite all our efforts, the children will turn out the way they will turn out. But God is to be trusted. The children will also turn out to be who they are supposed to be despite all our shortcomings.
So no kids at all by choice? I'm not sure I would agree it is a good choice. It is yours to make, and you might feel very justified in the decision, but I urge you to look at the reasons. If you claim to trust in God, to believe in the teachings of the Bible, then I would look passed the finances and workload and look to the blessings. For leaving a light in this world also involves leaving a legacy of God-loving children, who in turn shine bright lights to those they come into contact with. And the blessings are more than you can even imagine.
To Be Continued on Blog Day #23
 | |
| Little One Day Old Hank. . . |
 |
| So big! (Christmas 2010) |
 | |
| Charlotte and Zoe. . .Parenting is not just about the workload and inconvenience. . .It's about living life to the fullest. |
 |
| And it's not about being a perfect person with the perfect circumstances. Children are blessings. Not just for you, but for the world. |
Sunday, May 15, 2011
When I'm Running, This is What I'm Listening To. . . Blog Day #21
I love my iPhone.
I love music, both playing and listening.
I can't play the piano while I run, but I can listen. . .with my iPhone.
God Bless the iPhone. Because I need the music to keep me going to the end of the workout. . .Especially Christian music. . .
Here's the mix I made for myself. . .I'm not in love with all of them, but they have a steady beat and all have great messages. . .Some are slow, but I love the fullness and depth of the musicality so I set my breathing to them. . .Happy listening, and smooth running:
Manifesto- Introducing The City Harmonic
Stronger- Mandisa
Hey Devil- TobyMac
Crazy Enough- MercyMe
Changed Forever (feat. Nirva Ready)- TobyMac
Funky Jesus Music (feat. Beckah Shae and Siti Monroe)- TobyMac
This Life- MercyMe
Divine Romance- Phil Wickham
Love Somebody (An 80s Tribute)- Press Play
Move- MercyMe
Tonight (feat. John Cooper of Skillet)- TobyMac
Getcha Hands Up- Press Play
Gimme That Funk- Group 1 Crew
The Generous Mr. Lovewell- MercyMe
ShowStopper- TobyMac
Start Somewhere- TobyMac
Critical Emergency- Group 1 Crew
Change- Group 1 Crew
Can't Shut Up- Anthem Lights
Captured- TobyMac
City on our Knees- TobyMac
Can't Get Over You- Anthem Lights
Break Open the Sky (feat. Israel Houghton)- TobyMac
Wonderin' (feat. Matthew Thiessen)- TobyMac
Total time is approx. 1hr20min.
I love music, both playing and listening.
I can't play the piano while I run, but I can listen. . .with my iPhone.
God Bless the iPhone. Because I need the music to keep me going to the end of the workout. . .Especially Christian music. . .
Here's the mix I made for myself. . .I'm not in love with all of them, but they have a steady beat and all have great messages. . .Some are slow, but I love the fullness and depth of the musicality so I set my breathing to them. . .Happy listening, and smooth running:
Manifesto- Introducing The City Harmonic
Stronger- Mandisa
Hey Devil- TobyMac
Crazy Enough- MercyMe
Changed Forever (feat. Nirva Ready)- TobyMac
Funky Jesus Music (feat. Beckah Shae and Siti Monroe)- TobyMac
This Life- MercyMe
Divine Romance- Phil Wickham
Love Somebody (An 80s Tribute)- Press Play
Move- MercyMe
Tonight (feat. John Cooper of Skillet)- TobyMac
Getcha Hands Up- Press Play
Gimme That Funk- Group 1 Crew
The Generous Mr. Lovewell- MercyMe
ShowStopper- TobyMac
Start Somewhere- TobyMac
Critical Emergency- Group 1 Crew
Change- Group 1 Crew
Can't Shut Up- Anthem Lights
Captured- TobyMac
City on our Knees- TobyMac
Can't Get Over You- Anthem Lights
Break Open the Sky (feat. Israel Houghton)- TobyMac
Wonderin' (feat. Matthew Thiessen)- TobyMac
Total time is approx. 1hr20min.
In the Mind of Yours Truly, Part 3 of 3: Autumn. . .Blog Day #19
It is my opinion that the seasons of life don't really go in any particular order. I think that the stages in our life can change at random, with the circumstances varying and determining what season it is. When I had three toddlers, no money, preggo brain, and a stressed out hubbie, I was definitely in a bitter, dry winter. But I don't think that spring followed, where everything was green and colorful. More like summer. . .free-spirited, sunned. And the growth was the kind the kids go through in between school years: I filled in spiritually just like kids fill in physically.
The beginning of this year went back to a mild winter. Cold and windy, sometimes stormy, but not necessarily bitter cold.
Quite honestly, springtime is short lived for me. I barely realize it when I'm there. And besides, as much as I love mild weather in real life, I have mad allergies in the spring.. . I don't even know how to finish this metaphor.. .
Back to now, this present time, this very moment. Autumn.
I think of harvest, the huge harvest moon, the best time to plant and prune and hide those bulbs. Time when reds, oranges, yellows, browns are the colors filling in the scenery. Time when families prepare to assemble and break bread together, despite conflicts and drama. Time when even the stingiest humbugs start reaching deep into their wallets to see how many places they can reach out to. And it just seems like the whole world is getting ready to cozy up and be tucked in.
Autumn is my favorite season.
And this "season" of life, despite all my moanings and groanings, seems like it's going to be my favorite.
Here's why, in list form (sorry, I'm beat tired)
Thank you, Lord, for you lovingkindness. . .
The beginning of this year went back to a mild winter. Cold and windy, sometimes stormy, but not necessarily bitter cold.
Quite honestly, springtime is short lived for me. I barely realize it when I'm there. And besides, as much as I love mild weather in real life, I have mad allergies in the spring.. . I don't even know how to finish this metaphor.. .
Back to now, this present time, this very moment. Autumn.
I think of harvest, the huge harvest moon, the best time to plant and prune and hide those bulbs. Time when reds, oranges, yellows, browns are the colors filling in the scenery. Time when families prepare to assemble and break bread together, despite conflicts and drama. Time when even the stingiest humbugs start reaching deep into their wallets to see how many places they can reach out to. And it just seems like the whole world is getting ready to cozy up and be tucked in.
Autumn is my favorite season.
And this "season" of life, despite all my moanings and groanings, seems like it's going to be my favorite.
Here's why, in list form (sorry, I'm beat tired)
- My older kids are showing signs that their training has sunk in. I am starting to reap a little of the harvest as they make good decisions, learn from their mistakes, and go out of their way to love others the way God wants us to. Being a purposeful, Bible-guided and balanced parent is exhausting. It's nice to see little snippets of the spiritual "grain" they are "storing" for their futures. While sometimes the emotional aspects are hard and it's difficult to let go, parenting older children doesn't seem as intense and demanding as parenting toddlers.
- I love the conversations that I'm having with the 9 year old. They are becoming so deep, so warm. Our relationship is changing, where I am now walking behind her in support rather than leading in front. Like I said before, we're cozying up and tucking in. No matter how stormy and cold it is in the world, we'll always have each other to stay warm.
- I listen to the kids play together and they love each other. Life just wouldn't be the same if they didn't have each other. We have family council once a month and we share a snack, talk family business, prepare for future events, share in the family spoils (allowance) and we end by singing songs together. As a child, I often wondered what a happy family unit looked like. A family unit that always expected to be together, that broke bread together, that welcomed the good and the ugly. Now I know.
- Not only is there harvest in the fall, but I've learned that Autumn is the best time to plant. Bulbs are hidden in the ground, not to re-emerge until spring. Trees bear down for the winter, shedding their leaves and appearing to go to sleep. It's as if the world is turning the warm colors of red, yellow, orange and brown in a cheerful,"Farewell, see you in the spring." I'm in that stage now, where much of the training (at least with the older ones) is finished. I'm no longer tilling the ground, making sure it doesn't dry out, etc. . .In fact, my job is to provide cover if there is a frost coming. And just as something "imaginary" happens to the bulbs and trees and dormant plants during winter, something "imaginary" is happening in the kids. . .I can't wait to see how they sprout and blossom and bring beauty to the world.
Thank you, Lord, for you lovingkindness. . .
Saturday, May 14, 2011
In the Mind of Yours Truly, Part 2 of 3: Shiny. . .Blog Day #18
Ok, so in part 1, I mentioned being refined and feeling "shiny". . ..
The reference comes from God's true Word, the Bible:
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to His great mercy has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to obtain an inheritance which is imperishable and undefiled and will not fade away, reserved in heaven for you, who are protected by the power of God through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ; and though you have not seen Him, you love Him, and though you do not see Him now, but believe in Him, you greatly rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory, obtaining as the outcome of your faith the salvation of your souls. (1 Peter 1:3-9, NASB, italics and highlights added)
To take the impurities out of a gold piece, it must be melted in fire and separated from any other elements. So to take this figuratively, we can be a gold piece, refined through the fire of our troubles, coming out more pure than before. In other words, to gain strong purity and joy in life, all we have to do get through the other side of our trials. No problem, right?
If only it were that easy. . .
If I'm not going through a third-life crisis, maybe I’m just on the other side of a refining period and feeling “shiny.”
I can't say the first one-half of this year has been great. . .In fact, it started off pretty rough. I was on that narrow path to God, following Him and striving to obey. But some things were getting harder and harder to work at, and I reached a crossroads.
One way looked easier. The path didn't seem as narrow, there was plush and fragrant grass in a bright hue of green that seemed to shine. There seemed to be gaiety and liveliness. There was the hustle and bustle that comes with an exciting crowd. There was an assortment of smells wafting my way: cologne, meat cooking, wine, bread baking. I couldn't really see too far down this path, but it sure was inviting.
The other way was so narrow that it would barely fit my own two feet. It was quiet, and I had to listen very carefully to hear the sound of a spring or brook nearby. There didn't seem to be very many people there. I thought I could hear singing and laughter, but couldn't quite tell. The path turned a sharp corner, and had a row of trees that blocked my view. The only thing clear was that you had to keep your feet on the path to be able to follow it.
The first path: doing what I wanted. Me, myself, and I. Giving in to my whims and desires. Escaping the problems that laid so heavy on my heart. Explaining to myself that there is better, I deserve better, and am totally justified to seek out my own happiness. Plenty of people seek out what they think is best and they turned out fine. They turned out satisfied and happy, even. You deserve to follow your heart, to have what you've always wanted, to be satisfied and happy just like those other people.
The second path: waiting for and choosing God's way. Bringing honor to Jesus' name. Obeying Him in everything I do. Keep walking even though I feel weary. Making conscious decisions to have love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Keeping a steady pace even though I want to quit. Drawing strength by stopping and absorbing the stillness. Ignoring the feelings of self-doubt and failure.
I actually didn't know which way I wanted to go. One seemed so appealing, the other so hard. One was the easier route, the other so arduous.
The more I thought about my life, the more I was at war with myself. Was I to do what I wanted and what the world was telling me would lead to my happiness? Or was I to love God and obey Him, which meant I needed to hold His hand and endure?
For a couple of months, I heard this message, "Wait." I wanted to move on, and move on quickly. I dislike wallowing and dwelling and thinking and planning and thinking some more. I love to be a woman of action and "get 'er done." But there was only message, "Wait."
I wanted to go go go. I didn't care what was at the end of the paths, I wanted to decide and move on.
"Wait."
So, spiritually, I sat on a tree stump and waited for the "okay" to get up. I didn't make any decisions, except to want what God wants-- that my love for God was more important that what was going on in my head.
Then things got even harder. My emotions were in turmoil. Bitterness was eating away at me. The future seemed so bleak, and that first path seemed so bright. I stared at it so long, I had trouble looking back to the second path.
"God, I want what you want. Help me want what you have for me."
And then He told me to walk down the narrow path. As soon as I took my first step, the thick trees all burst into flames. "Really, God? Walk through that?"
"Trust me."
"But where are you? I want to see you."
"Trust me."
I walked nearer to the fire. 'Hot' would be a boring way to describe how it felt. I began to tremble in fear, scared of the wounds that would scar forever, if I even survived. But one foot in front of the other, I obeyed. I kept on. I closed my eyes, and walked toward the heat. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in the center of a forest fire. I felt scalded, but strangely not burned. I was able to fix my eyes on the path ahead. One foot in front of the other. The longer I walked, the less intense the heat became.
And as suddenly as it started, the flames disappeared and the heat was gone. I found myself next to a calm and beautiful spring. The grass here was soft, verdant, and sweet. The path still snaked around into dark forest but I noticed for the first time that there was a glowing light on the horizon, where the path seemed to be running to.
My entire being was parched, and I barely had enough strength to drink the water from the brook. Quenched, I collapsed onto the bed-like ground. I took a breath deeper than I had since I sat on the stump at the crossroads. My skin tingled like it does after a long shower.
I survived the fire, and came out with a deep-seeded sense that my faith passed the test. I obeyed. I waited. I trusted.
I grew in faith, rewarded with joy inexpressible. I obeyed, and my soul was saved. I trusted, and the lies were burned and separated from me.
"Shiny."
Lord, let my new shininess light the path for others to see.
The reference comes from God's true Word, the Bible:
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to His great mercy has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to obtain an inheritance which is imperishable and undefiled and will not fade away, reserved in heaven for you, who are protected by the power of God through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ; and though you have not seen Him, you love Him, and though you do not see Him now, but believe in Him, you greatly rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory, obtaining as the outcome of your faith the salvation of your souls. (1 Peter 1:3-9, NASB, italics and highlights added)
To take the impurities out of a gold piece, it must be melted in fire and separated from any other elements. So to take this figuratively, we can be a gold piece, refined through the fire of our troubles, coming out more pure than before. In other words, to gain strong purity and joy in life, all we have to do get through the other side of our trials. No problem, right?
If only it were that easy. . .
If I'm not going through a third-life crisis, maybe I’m just on the other side of a refining period and feeling “shiny.”
I can't say the first one-half of this year has been great. . .In fact, it started off pretty rough. I was on that narrow path to God, following Him and striving to obey. But some things were getting harder and harder to work at, and I reached a crossroads.
One way looked easier. The path didn't seem as narrow, there was plush and fragrant grass in a bright hue of green that seemed to shine. There seemed to be gaiety and liveliness. There was the hustle and bustle that comes with an exciting crowd. There was an assortment of smells wafting my way: cologne, meat cooking, wine, bread baking. I couldn't really see too far down this path, but it sure was inviting.
The other way was so narrow that it would barely fit my own two feet. It was quiet, and I had to listen very carefully to hear the sound of a spring or brook nearby. There didn't seem to be very many people there. I thought I could hear singing and laughter, but couldn't quite tell. The path turned a sharp corner, and had a row of trees that blocked my view. The only thing clear was that you had to keep your feet on the path to be able to follow it.
The first path: doing what I wanted. Me, myself, and I. Giving in to my whims and desires. Escaping the problems that laid so heavy on my heart. Explaining to myself that there is better, I deserve better, and am totally justified to seek out my own happiness. Plenty of people seek out what they think is best and they turned out fine. They turned out satisfied and happy, even. You deserve to follow your heart, to have what you've always wanted, to be satisfied and happy just like those other people.
The second path: waiting for and choosing God's way. Bringing honor to Jesus' name. Obeying Him in everything I do. Keep walking even though I feel weary. Making conscious decisions to have love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Keeping a steady pace even though I want to quit. Drawing strength by stopping and absorbing the stillness. Ignoring the feelings of self-doubt and failure.
I actually didn't know which way I wanted to go. One seemed so appealing, the other so hard. One was the easier route, the other so arduous.
The more I thought about my life, the more I was at war with myself. Was I to do what I wanted and what the world was telling me would lead to my happiness? Or was I to love God and obey Him, which meant I needed to hold His hand and endure?
For a couple of months, I heard this message, "Wait." I wanted to move on, and move on quickly. I dislike wallowing and dwelling and thinking and planning and thinking some more. I love to be a woman of action and "get 'er done." But there was only message, "Wait."
I wanted to go go go. I didn't care what was at the end of the paths, I wanted to decide and move on.
"Wait."
So, spiritually, I sat on a tree stump and waited for the "okay" to get up. I didn't make any decisions, except to want what God wants-- that my love for God was more important that what was going on in my head.
Then things got even harder. My emotions were in turmoil. Bitterness was eating away at me. The future seemed so bleak, and that first path seemed so bright. I stared at it so long, I had trouble looking back to the second path.
"God, I want what you want. Help me want what you have for me."
And then He told me to walk down the narrow path. As soon as I took my first step, the thick trees all burst into flames. "Really, God? Walk through that?"
"Trust me."
"But where are you? I want to see you."
"Trust me."
I walked nearer to the fire. 'Hot' would be a boring way to describe how it felt. I began to tremble in fear, scared of the wounds that would scar forever, if I even survived. But one foot in front of the other, I obeyed. I kept on. I closed my eyes, and walked toward the heat. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in the center of a forest fire. I felt scalded, but strangely not burned. I was able to fix my eyes on the path ahead. One foot in front of the other. The longer I walked, the less intense the heat became.
And as suddenly as it started, the flames disappeared and the heat was gone. I found myself next to a calm and beautiful spring. The grass here was soft, verdant, and sweet. The path still snaked around into dark forest but I noticed for the first time that there was a glowing light on the horizon, where the path seemed to be running to.
My entire being was parched, and I barely had enough strength to drink the water from the brook. Quenched, I collapsed onto the bed-like ground. I took a breath deeper than I had since I sat on the stump at the crossroads. My skin tingled like it does after a long shower.
I survived the fire, and came out with a deep-seeded sense that my faith passed the test. I obeyed. I waited. I trusted.
I grew in faith, rewarded with joy inexpressible. I obeyed, and my soul was saved. I trusted, and the lies were burned and separated from me.
"Shiny."
Lord, let my new shininess light the path for others to see.
Friday, May 13, 2011
In the Mind of Yours Truly, Part 1 of 3: Third Life Crisis?. . .Blog Day #17
I am not sure what is going with me lately. Well, ok, maybe I do know what is going on. I might be going through a third-life crisis. Or maybe I’m just on the other end of a refining period and feeling “shiny.” Maybe I’m feeling the excitement and newness of entering a new season in my life: autumn.
Maybe I’m just over-analyzing things and need to go to bed (it is 12:30am as I type).
But ignoring this last thought, let me explain. . .
Third-Life Crisis
As of the 27th of April, I turned the ripe old age of 32 ½. I can’t really say I feel young, and I can’t really say I feel old. I can say, however, that I have been allowed to have my body back without fear that I will be gaining the 50 pounds needed to support and sustain a tiny little life. I am well on my way to pre-kids weight. And feeling awesome.
I’ve lost 20 pounds so far, nearing 25 total. My ego has been thoroughly enjoying the compliments and I have been thoroughly enjoying having some curves again. Despite late night blogging and Facebooking, I have had an abundant amount of energy and stamina to keep up with the kiddos plus run 11+ miles a week. My core is stronger, making my back less sore, making my posture better and my confidence higher.
And with that confidence comes some of my old tastes and sense of fashion. I’m bored with my hair color, and want to celebrate summer by streaking it different colors. . .I look at the Hubbie’s motorcycle with longing and plan to start using it as my main mode of transportation when traveling alone. I want some of my old ear piercings back (just ears, I've never had anything else). . .I bought my first pair of real shorts in a long time. . .And since I am getting closer to my target weight, I’ve been thinking of a second tattoo (which was a reward I set a long time ago if I ever got skinny enough, but didn’t have any expectations of it actually happening.)
But I’m not sure that all those things come from personal tastes, or just me trying to be younger again. I have shared before that I felt like I lost my 20’s somewhere in the shuffle of having babies. Well, now I’m caught between feeling old (especially when I look at my never-to-be-flat-again belly and the appearance of cellulite and becoming enemies with gravity) and feeling young (“30 is the new 20").
I remember the feeling of being different in appearance, and totally getting away with it. I liked expressing the fun side of my personality for all to see. I liked being set apart, even admired.
When you are busy being pregnant and nursing and dealing with toddlers, these fun feelings aren’t really there. It is true that in the Bay Area, I was a little different. Freak of nature would probably be a better description, based on the reactions to “No, I’m not the babysitter.” “Yes, they are all my kids.” “Oh, we home-school.”
I was definitely set apart. But, somehow, it wasn’t the same.
So am I just chasing youthful fancies and focusing too much on the external and not so much on the internal?
Am I, indeed, going through a third-life crisis?
I don’t know. I’ll let you know after the first hair-dying experiment. . .
*Note: The next two blog entries will be on my recent refining and on being in the Autumn of my life.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
I Married a School-Teacher, and Got a Cop. . .Blog Day #13
You know the cliche "When life throws you lemons, make lemonade."? Well, what do you do when life throws you a pickle? And I don't mean those cute little ones that you can eat one at a time. I mean one of those pickles that only fit one to a giant jar. What are you supposed to do with that?
We are coming up to my husband's 5 year anniversary of being an officer of the California Highway Patrol. Prior to graduating, he lived at the academy for an intense 7 months. I had three toddlers and one baby on the way. Zoe was born during break-in, during which his FTO was very understanding and let him come home for a couple weeks while I recuperated. But while my husband passed his break-in period without having to repeat any phases, and he got through his first year of probation, I felt like I just finished my break-in period.
Let's go back a little to the man I married 10, almost 11, years ago. We were fresh out of college, working with childen with disabilities, and starting our family early. While I was taking care of an infant for the first time, the Hubbie decided to go to credential school at night and take a job as a History/Government teacher at Woodland Christian High School. Oh, and he was Davis High's head wrestling coach. And did I mention we had a baby at home?
If you read between the lines, you would know this: The man never slept.
Since high schools start insanely early, he was out early in the morning to get to work before the kids got there. Then he would hop over to Davis and work with more teenagers, this time teaching them how to wrestle. After practice, he would either make the drive to Sacramento for classes or he would come home and grade papers and lesson plan. Add in the usual drama at work, drama with parents, drama with teachers, drama with class credits, etc. . .And hospital bills (which someone soo generously helped us with, knowing how big our paycheck was), a crazy nursing wife and a baby who cried to settle into her naps.
To say the least, the man was busy. And stressed out. I haven't even mentioned a Bible study we attended and church on Sundays. It became clear that, while he loved the kids he was around and developed special relationships with some of them that are still close today, teaching was not something he would be able to do for the rest of his working days. Not in a life-fulfilling, contentment-causing, clearly-a-calling kind of way.
So he applied for the California Highway Patrol. He entered the academy in November of '05. The academy was the easiest part on my end. I could see there was a renewed purpose, discipline and challenge. He was finally "home". All he had to do was pass and make it to the end without injuries. Piece of cake. . .And he was so nice when he came home on weekends because he missed us. Plus he didn't have to deal with a potty training boy who smeared poop all over the walls.
He did graduate and I got to pin his badge on his uniform. He was finally allowed to be called "Officer." I threw him a party with all our friends. I was 7 1/2 months pregnant with my fourth child and was a great wife that day. I threw the party, then spent most of the night between two puking kids. Then I spent the next week apologizing to half of the party that got the stomach flu from cute little baby Charlotte. Thankfully, the Hubbie didn't get it and was still able to report to Castro Valley the next Monday.
And that's how I started my spouse break-in period. It's a long process of adjusting to changing shifts, changing personalities, changing sleep patterns (his, not mine) and changing outlooks on life (his, not mine). There is an alarming amount of wives who don't make it, or who are so hurt and embittered by this period of time that they never recover. Well, I think I've made it. I'll share what I think helped me through, and what will help me make it to retirement. . .
If I were to be graded on my "performance" these last 5 years, here's what the list of items would be:
1) "When he's working, he's working. When he's home, he's home." Knowing that the schedule is just a guideline. Treating workdays as 24 hour shifts. Expecting overtime shifts. Communicating well when you need a break from the extra hours. Having a good attitude about court on RDOs. Planning without him, and treating his presence at activities as a bonus. Always having a back-up plan without being untrusting. Being gracious when graveyard shifts means adding an extra workday to the schedule for sleeping.
2) When he's at work, he can take people to jail for not obeying. And if they threaten his life, he can shoot them. Remembering the posture he must take at work, and giving him a little wiggle room to be bossy. Allowing him to help and take charge because that is the part of his personality that makes him successful at his job. Not undermining him by challenging his authority in front of the children. Communicating calmly and in private when conflict arises from strong personality or personalities. Communicating with carefully chosen and specific words and clear emotional expression. Prohibiting husband bashing and speaking only positively about him in public.
3)When one works with "dirtbags" all shift long, one can become jaded with life. Everyone becomes a "dirtbag." Expecting him to sometimes be suspicious, closed, and over-protective. Expecting him to go through anti-social periods of time. Extending grace when more expletives are used than comfortable to listening ears. Keeping one's own attitude in check when his is being a party-pooper.
Anyway, I totally can't even pretend that I am scoring high on all of these. I often have a stinky attitude when he needs to relax and do nothing for his days off. I often feel burnt out after weeks of single parenting. I often feel a little bitter going to family gatherings by myself. I admit to feeling so spent that I'm annoyed at bedtime when the four year old won't let me leave the room until I give her more kisses and squeezes and hugs.
But, as they said at the academy, "It's not just a job, it's a lifestyle." Whacked out schedules, crazy sleeping patterns, Type A to the 100th power personalities, potty mouths, etc. . .Just take it in stride.
It's been 5 years for me. . .I can't say that I love it all of the time. But I made it. I put in 100% and will continue to do so. I pray and pray for him every shift and trust that he's in God's care. I remind myself that he is doing what he has been called to do, and I've been called to support him and be the other half. I don't expect him to be the school-teacher anymore. He is a cop. And I am his wife.
Only 25 more years to go. . ..
We are coming up to my husband's 5 year anniversary of being an officer of the California Highway Patrol. Prior to graduating, he lived at the academy for an intense 7 months. I had three toddlers and one baby on the way. Zoe was born during break-in, during which his FTO was very understanding and let him come home for a couple weeks while I recuperated. But while my husband passed his break-in period without having to repeat any phases, and he got through his first year of probation, I felt like I just finished my break-in period.
Let's go back a little to the man I married 10, almost 11, years ago. We were fresh out of college, working with childen with disabilities, and starting our family early. While I was taking care of an infant for the first time, the Hubbie decided to go to credential school at night and take a job as a History/Government teacher at Woodland Christian High School. Oh, and he was Davis High's head wrestling coach. And did I mention we had a baby at home?
If you read between the lines, you would know this: The man never slept.
Since high schools start insanely early, he was out early in the morning to get to work before the kids got there. Then he would hop over to Davis and work with more teenagers, this time teaching them how to wrestle. After practice, he would either make the drive to Sacramento for classes or he would come home and grade papers and lesson plan. Add in the usual drama at work, drama with parents, drama with teachers, drama with class credits, etc. . .And hospital bills (which someone soo generously helped us with, knowing how big our paycheck was), a crazy nursing wife and a baby who cried to settle into her naps.
To say the least, the man was busy. And stressed out. I haven't even mentioned a Bible study we attended and church on Sundays. It became clear that, while he loved the kids he was around and developed special relationships with some of them that are still close today, teaching was not something he would be able to do for the rest of his working days. Not in a life-fulfilling, contentment-causing, clearly-a-calling kind of way.
So he applied for the California Highway Patrol. He entered the academy in November of '05. The academy was the easiest part on my end. I could see there was a renewed purpose, discipline and challenge. He was finally "home". All he had to do was pass and make it to the end without injuries. Piece of cake. . .And he was so nice when he came home on weekends because he missed us. Plus he didn't have to deal with a potty training boy who smeared poop all over the walls.
He did graduate and I got to pin his badge on his uniform. He was finally allowed to be called "Officer." I threw him a party with all our friends. I was 7 1/2 months pregnant with my fourth child and was a great wife that day. I threw the party, then spent most of the night between two puking kids. Then I spent the next week apologizing to half of the party that got the stomach flu from cute little baby Charlotte. Thankfully, the Hubbie didn't get it and was still able to report to Castro Valley the next Monday.
And that's how I started my spouse break-in period. It's a long process of adjusting to changing shifts, changing personalities, changing sleep patterns (his, not mine) and changing outlooks on life (his, not mine). There is an alarming amount of wives who don't make it, or who are so hurt and embittered by this period of time that they never recover. Well, I think I've made it. I'll share what I think helped me through, and what will help me make it to retirement. . .
If I were to be graded on my "performance" these last 5 years, here's what the list of items would be:
1) "When he's working, he's working. When he's home, he's home." Knowing that the schedule is just a guideline. Treating workdays as 24 hour shifts. Expecting overtime shifts. Communicating well when you need a break from the extra hours. Having a good attitude about court on RDOs. Planning without him, and treating his presence at activities as a bonus. Always having a back-up plan without being untrusting. Being gracious when graveyard shifts means adding an extra workday to the schedule for sleeping.
2) When he's at work, he can take people to jail for not obeying. And if they threaten his life, he can shoot them. Remembering the posture he must take at work, and giving him a little wiggle room to be bossy. Allowing him to help and take charge because that is the part of his personality that makes him successful at his job. Not undermining him by challenging his authority in front of the children. Communicating calmly and in private when conflict arises from strong personality or personalities. Communicating with carefully chosen and specific words and clear emotional expression. Prohibiting husband bashing and speaking only positively about him in public.
3)When one works with "dirtbags" all shift long, one can become jaded with life. Everyone becomes a "dirtbag." Expecting him to sometimes be suspicious, closed, and over-protective. Expecting him to go through anti-social periods of time. Extending grace when more expletives are used than comfortable to listening ears. Keeping one's own attitude in check when his is being a party-pooper.
Anyway, I totally can't even pretend that I am scoring high on all of these. I often have a stinky attitude when he needs to relax and do nothing for his days off. I often feel burnt out after weeks of single parenting. I often feel a little bitter going to family gatherings by myself. I admit to feeling so spent that I'm annoyed at bedtime when the four year old won't let me leave the room until I give her more kisses and squeezes and hugs.
But, as they said at the academy, "It's not just a job, it's a lifestyle." Whacked out schedules, crazy sleeping patterns, Type A to the 100th power personalities, potty mouths, etc. . .Just take it in stride.
It's been 5 years for me. . .I can't say that I love it all of the time. But I made it. I put in 100% and will continue to do so. I pray and pray for him every shift and trust that he's in God's care. I remind myself that he is doing what he has been called to do, and I've been called to support him and be the other half. I don't expect him to be the school-teacher anymore. He is a cop. And I am his wife.
Only 25 more years to go. . ..
Friday, May 6, 2011
Much more than the Bathroom Scale, Blog Day #12
So last fall, after weaning my last baby, I decided it was time to kick it into high gear and get to BK (Before Kids) weight. That would mean I needed to lose a shocking total of 35 pounds. It seemed so high since my ethnicity states that I should be skinny as a rail, cook a mean fried rice and play piano like a maniac. Well, one out of three isn't bad.
This was back in September. School was in full force, football season time consuming, and ballet was a 40 minute drive into Sacramento three times a week. I didn't know how to start any kind of exercise routine and just tried to get in one long nighttime walk with the dog a week. And I tried to stay away from the refined sugars and refined flours. Then the series of setbacks began.
First was California's lousy economy. My husband's job is an essential, so no matter how much lobbyists want to do away with them, we will always have employment. The setback, though, was that any kind of overtime coming from other state-run budgets was dried up. No overtime = no extras = no cushion = bad for an over-spender. And since healthy food is slightly more expensive and constantly needing replenishing, I had to make cut backs almost as soon as I started.
The next bunch of setbacks were the holidays. Specifically: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve and Christmas day. The four self-indulging and feasting holidays of the year, all lined up in a row. Candy, more candy, cupcakes, turkey, pies, cheesecakes, tamales, cobblers, potatoes of all kinds, jello salad, cookies, milk, pasta salads, Happy Birthday Jesus tacos with plenty of sour cream and cheese. . .I'm getting hungry just thinking about it.
It's too bad that, at the time, I did more than think about it. I partook...And gained around 10 pounds.
*sigh, As if I wasn't big enough. And to add insult to injury, sometime in this 10 pound weight gain I got a mosquito bite on my neck under my chin. As if I needed another chin. . .
So with all the New Year's resolution hoopla, I resolved to get myself in shape and spend 2011 getting back to BK weight. One of my good friends suggested the Couch to 5k program. Running? I had never run in my life. Even in the peak of swim season as a high schooler (and I was a pretty decent swimmer) I could barely run a mile. But I have many friends who run for exercise. And I know many women with grown kids who look fabulous because they took up running. So I downloaded a schedule and before my mind could change itself, I started.
I was all for it at first. I am the type of person who gets fired up and jumps right into things. So when I completed that first 5 minute walk-2 minute run- 5 minute walk day, I thought, "I can do this!"
So running and cutting calories became my obsession. I especially got pumped when I got new shoes, my knee healed, and I could run 2.5 miles without gasping for air. I ran a 5k and had fun. And the only thing that had to give way was the housework. Who needs to do housework, anyway?
I hit a total weight loss of 20 pounds. I started getting compliments from people who noticed. My clothes were fitting better and I could go buy new clothes without feeling like a rhino in the fitting room. Not to mention, I was way less jiggly during my runs. Yay!
But exercising and changing eating habits is exhausting. You have to constantly think about running, otherwise you lose motivation and procrastinate. You have to constantly think about food so that you mind your portions and read all the labels. The food part is hard, because the more you exercise, the hungrier you get. And when you are cooking for small people who need to eat multiple times throughout the day, you tend to have little bits of food all day long until, before you realize, you've gone almost 300 calories over-budget. Great for maintaining weight if you burn that much during exercising, which I do. But bad if you still have 20 pounds left to lose.
So I've hit a plateau. And it didn't help that I had hosted a delicious feast to celebrate the end of Lent, the greatest holiday of the year, Easter. Then proceeded to eat leftover ham, potatoes, cheesecake and carrot cake the whole next week. And my husband switched to day shift on weekends, throwing my running schedule off. Argh!
Now I'm struggling to keep the momentum going. I get the runs in, but there is hardly any time to cross-train. So my muscles are very tired. The weather is against me, too. The rain was fine and the cold was bearable. But lately it has been crazy windy and now it is getting hot. My run yesterday had to be cut short because 1)I tried to run way faster than I am capable of maintaining and 2) it was darned hot and I hadn't fueled and hydrated enough during the day to compensate.
There is so much to this route to a healthy temple (ie body). I can understand why people resort to pills and fake milkshakes and frozen diet dinners.
But instead of the easy ways out, I am choosing balance. I eat food that is the way God intended: real. Real fruit, real juice, real eggs, real wheat, real sugar, etc. . .It's such a more efficient way to get what I need to run 11 miles a week. If I am in the habit of eating the right ingredients in all my yummy food, and keep the portions reasonable, I can have the occasional Costco chocolate cake or cheesy enchiladas and such. I just don't touch the label, haha. . .
And as far as exercise, balance is the key again. Lately my body is crying out for sleep. As I'm typing, I am emitting the pungent odor of Tiger Balm because of a knot in my neck. I've had the knot for 6 days now, giving me a slight headache for those days. I can't seem to get rid of it. It's not a coincidence that I have gone to bed no earlier than midnight all week, it's been very warm outside and I've kept my running schedule anyway. Balance here would have been listening better to my body and skipping one run to rest and let my muscles heal and catch up.
Balance. Another one of those simple, yet so hard, concepts to apply. It seems so easy in words: Eat right and in good portions, plus exercise and rest according to how your body feels, plus sleep at night. But I find that I'm always tipping the scales in one way or another.
*sigh. I guess the scale in the bathroom is not the only scale I need to pay attention to. . . .
Stay tuned, I'll update on the weight loss towards the end of my 40 day blogging blitz. . .I'll have run a 10K race by then. . .
This was back in September. School was in full force, football season time consuming, and ballet was a 40 minute drive into Sacramento three times a week. I didn't know how to start any kind of exercise routine and just tried to get in one long nighttime walk with the dog a week. And I tried to stay away from the refined sugars and refined flours. Then the series of setbacks began.
First was California's lousy economy. My husband's job is an essential, so no matter how much lobbyists want to do away with them, we will always have employment. The setback, though, was that any kind of overtime coming from other state-run budgets was dried up. No overtime = no extras = no cushion = bad for an over-spender. And since healthy food is slightly more expensive and constantly needing replenishing, I had to make cut backs almost as soon as I started.
The next bunch of setbacks were the holidays. Specifically: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve and Christmas day. The four self-indulging and feasting holidays of the year, all lined up in a row. Candy, more candy, cupcakes, turkey, pies, cheesecakes, tamales, cobblers, potatoes of all kinds, jello salad, cookies, milk, pasta salads, Happy Birthday Jesus tacos with plenty of sour cream and cheese. . .I'm getting hungry just thinking about it.
It's too bad that, at the time, I did more than think about it. I partook...And gained around 10 pounds.
*sigh, As if I wasn't big enough. And to add insult to injury, sometime in this 10 pound weight gain I got a mosquito bite on my neck under my chin. As if I needed another chin. . .
So with all the New Year's resolution hoopla, I resolved to get myself in shape and spend 2011 getting back to BK weight. One of my good friends suggested the Couch to 5k program. Running? I had never run in my life. Even in the peak of swim season as a high schooler (and I was a pretty decent swimmer) I could barely run a mile. But I have many friends who run for exercise. And I know many women with grown kids who look fabulous because they took up running. So I downloaded a schedule and before my mind could change itself, I started.
I was all for it at first. I am the type of person who gets fired up and jumps right into things. So when I completed that first 5 minute walk-2 minute run- 5 minute walk day, I thought, "I can do this!"
So running and cutting calories became my obsession. I especially got pumped when I got new shoes, my knee healed, and I could run 2.5 miles without gasping for air. I ran a 5k and had fun. And the only thing that had to give way was the housework. Who needs to do housework, anyway?
I hit a total weight loss of 20 pounds. I started getting compliments from people who noticed. My clothes were fitting better and I could go buy new clothes without feeling like a rhino in the fitting room. Not to mention, I was way less jiggly during my runs. Yay!
But exercising and changing eating habits is exhausting. You have to constantly think about running, otherwise you lose motivation and procrastinate. You have to constantly think about food so that you mind your portions and read all the labels. The food part is hard, because the more you exercise, the hungrier you get. And when you are cooking for small people who need to eat multiple times throughout the day, you tend to have little bits of food all day long until, before you realize, you've gone almost 300 calories over-budget. Great for maintaining weight if you burn that much during exercising, which I do. But bad if you still have 20 pounds left to lose.
So I've hit a plateau. And it didn't help that I had hosted a delicious feast to celebrate the end of Lent, the greatest holiday of the year, Easter. Then proceeded to eat leftover ham, potatoes, cheesecake and carrot cake the whole next week. And my husband switched to day shift on weekends, throwing my running schedule off. Argh!
Now I'm struggling to keep the momentum going. I get the runs in, but there is hardly any time to cross-train. So my muscles are very tired. The weather is against me, too. The rain was fine and the cold was bearable. But lately it has been crazy windy and now it is getting hot. My run yesterday had to be cut short because 1)I tried to run way faster than I am capable of maintaining and 2) it was darned hot and I hadn't fueled and hydrated enough during the day to compensate.
There is so much to this route to a healthy temple (ie body). I can understand why people resort to pills and fake milkshakes and frozen diet dinners.
But instead of the easy ways out, I am choosing balance. I eat food that is the way God intended: real. Real fruit, real juice, real eggs, real wheat, real sugar, etc. . .It's such a more efficient way to get what I need to run 11 miles a week. If I am in the habit of eating the right ingredients in all my yummy food, and keep the portions reasonable, I can have the occasional Costco chocolate cake or cheesy enchiladas and such. I just don't touch the label, haha. . .
And as far as exercise, balance is the key again. Lately my body is crying out for sleep. As I'm typing, I am emitting the pungent odor of Tiger Balm because of a knot in my neck. I've had the knot for 6 days now, giving me a slight headache for those days. I can't seem to get rid of it. It's not a coincidence that I have gone to bed no earlier than midnight all week, it's been very warm outside and I've kept my running schedule anyway. Balance here would have been listening better to my body and skipping one run to rest and let my muscles heal and catch up.
Balance. Another one of those simple, yet so hard, concepts to apply. It seems so easy in words: Eat right and in good portions, plus exercise and rest according to how your body feels, plus sleep at night. But I find that I'm always tipping the scales in one way or another.
*sigh. I guess the scale in the bathroom is not the only scale I need to pay attention to. . . .
Stay tuned, I'll update on the weight loss towards the end of my 40 day blogging blitz. . .I'll have run a 10K race by then. . .
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