When the phone rings at 5:00am on a Saturday morning, your foggy mind can comprehend enough to know that the news on the other line is probably not going to be good. It wasn't.
Two weeks ago, my mom's side of the family gathered togteher to celebrate the wedding of my cousin, Zachary. Today we will gather yet again - this time to celebrate the life, and mourn the passing, of another cousin, Jody. She was young and she leaves behind 2 small daughters. She was loud and full of laughter and spunk and stories and fun and every time I close my eyes, her beautiful round face is there with the deepest dimples I have ever seen and I just can't imagine never seeing that smile again.
I feel like this week has beat me up. First the news about Jody last Saturday, then this past week has also marked the 10 year anniversary of my miscarriage. 10 years. A whole decade. Tuesday was my marking of the day we went in for the ultrasound and found out there was no heartbeat. Thursday was the day marking the D&C because, although the baby had alreay started breaking up and being absorbed back into my body, my body hadn't yet realized it wasn't pregnant and wasn't shedding anything. We were leaving for a conference in California less than a week later and I didn't want to be in a hotel room on the other side of the country from my doctor not knowing what was normal and what wasn't.
I have had to experience some emotional rollercoaster moments this week.
Tim and I have had to try to answer questions from kids that, as they get older, want to know more in depth. The question, "Why are you crying, Mom?" doesn't have a simple answer for a 6 year old and 9 year old. It turns into, "Why are you sad?" and then "How did she die?" and then, "What do you mean by bad choice?" and finally into "What are drugs?" We want to be honest with our kids in an age appropriate way. There are too many lies and cover ups in our culture nowadays and we just want our kids to know truth about situations so they can trust The Truth in life. We want them to know that good people can still make bad choices sometimes and we're all sinners on this earth.
Deaths seem to bring up many memories. Jody's death makes me think of our grandpa (my mom's dad), who we lost to cancer just over 13 years ago. My miscarriage makes me think of my grandma (my dad's mom), who died 10 years ago last month, just a couple weeks before my miscarriage. I love holding on to the thought she was there to hold my baby in heaven. If you're a theology student and you want to quote me something that would explain why that might not be true, please just hold your tongue this time and let me treasure my picture. It's helped me through some rough moments. I loved both my grandparents dearly and this year, I really really really miss them.
I took Caleb in for testing with a speech pathologist. She had some great things to say about him - he's smart, she would never realize he is on the Autism Spectrum. Then there is also the fact that she didn't even have to tally up the final score to tell me he would almost definitely qualify for their program because she could already point out at least 3 speech issues he has. So we add in yet another thing to his life. I do feel good about this, don't get me wrong. He already can't wait to start attending the once a week therapy (He thinks the pathologist is really nice and liked that there were fun things to do in the room...like Do-A-Dot markers. He LOVES those things!) It's a good thing for him, but it is one more thing to think about.
I am planning an event on Tuesday night that I am 120% excited about and yet I feel completely unprepared for. I am thankful for the friend planning it with me since one of us can think straight right now. I am just very excited to get together with other women and pray. Because good night, I think our communities need it like crazy.
Life happens every day. I feel like I've made it through this week pretty well because I have four kids to take care of. I can't curl up in a ball and shun my responsibilities because people would be hungry, a toddler would be walking around in a dirty diaper, and the place would be trashed. I have to hold on to hope that the Lord holds me in His hand and I will admit: it is only by His strength that I have made it through this week.
Friends, I can tell you what I know. I can tell you that I have hope for a future. I can tell you that the Lord is my strength. I know that He is my rock, my fortress, my deliverer. I know that I can give Him my burdens and He will give me rest.
But can I tell you something else?
I am just plain worn this week.
Tired.
Weary.
Sad.
Exhausted.
I don't want Scripture quoted at me as much as I just want to crawl into His arms and take a little nap. I just want to spend some time by the water, in His presence, in quiet. I want to see wave after wave lap up and fill my soul with the knowledge that He loves me. He sees my hurt. He wipes my tears. He whispers that He has it under control, even though I can't tell what's going on, but that it's going to be ok because, remember? I do know the final outcome of all this chaos even if I don't know what the day holds.
Then I want to be with my family. I want to laugh with friends. I want to breathe in life.
But today....today I hurt
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Monday, August 25, 2014
Year #3
Zeke wants to be a part of the action so he decorated his own paper.
Caleb is using the Letter of the Week Preschool Curriculum this year.
I'll be flexible with his schedule depending on the day he seems to be having.
Ellie is in 1st grade!
We're going to continue working on reading readiness.
Noah is in 4th grade.
Sniff, sniff.
I made a curriculum change in the last few weeks. My original plan was to go through "The Prairie Primer" and I was really excited about it since it uses The Little House on the Prairie series and I absolutely love those books. However, I came across some reviews that said it is best for ages 3rd-6th grades so I decided to hold off and wait a couple more years.
Then I came across KONOS Character Curriculum and when I looked through it I just knew that it was what I wanted to use. We'll still use Saxon for math and I'm using some Rod & Staff for Noah's reading comprehension and workbooks for Ellie's reading readiness until I can get my hands on The Reading Lesson book.
Choosing curriculum is never easy (in my opinion!) A friend of mine suggested the book 101 Top Picks for Homeschool Curriculum and I also would recommend it. I was able to assess my teaching style/goals/etc along with what kinds of personalities and learning styles each of my kids has and then put all that together to see what curriculum is suggested for our mash up. One of the things I love about KONOS is that it's unit study based and Charlotte Mason style. I like that it gives me some structure while at the same time letting me be flexible and adapting it to what works for our family.
Today was our first day. I actually couldn't fall asleep last night because I had the-night-before-the-first-day-of-school-jitters, which felt silly because we're homeschoolers. It's not like we had to leave the house and if the morning was turning out to be a disaster we could have just shelved it until tomorrow! Nevertheless, anticipation of the new curriculum and getting back into a routine was keeping me awake and gave me a fitful night of sleep. I also wanted to establish a morning wellness routine for myself so for the past month, I've been transitioning into early wake up times, exercise, and spending time in my Bible (aided by the ifequip.com online Bible study - check it out, it's great! We're going through Galatians right now.) before everyone else in the house is awake. This gives me a chance to prepare my heart for the day instead of being dragged out of bed by, "What's for breakfast?" or "Is it time to wake up?"
We still finished before lunch, which I had hoped would happen. Everyone had great attitudes. Caleb actually did a little bit of what I planned for him and then he and Zeke played outside in the sandbox and on the trampoline, which made it easier for me to work with the older two, so that was nice. Ellie told me she thought it was a great day of school. After finishing up with Noah, I walked into the kitchen and as I left the room I could hear him say to himself, "I love homeschool." Woo-hoo!
So Day 1 of Year 3 of Homeschooling has come to a close as they are in bed and I'm collapsed on the couch. Our first character trait we're studying is Courage. This week's verse is Psalm 18:2:
The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge,
my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge,
my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
Have a wonderful night! I'm looking forward to a solid night of sleep!
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Let's Talk About...A Book
Not just any book, though.
My friend, Joy McMillan, released a book last month and I am thankful to be able to read it and write a review on it. It's called "XES: Why church girls tend to get it backwards...and how to get it right."
First of all, let me tell you a little story:
During the summer following my sophomore year of college I did my internship at a Christian radio station in Lansing called The Light. The program director at the time was the fantastic Mike Couchman, whom you may have heard before either in Lansing or Grand Rapids or Las Vegas or now in St. Louis. All summer I heard about another intern at the station who was home in South Africa visiting her family. Sadly, I only had a few short weeks at the end of the summer with a bubbly, friendly, warm young woman named Joy.
There is a strong memory I have of the two of us sitting on the floor in one of the offices after everyone else had left for the day. We were probably working on something volunteer related, and as we chatted, the conversation turned to relationships and somehow my ugly past came spilling out. Parts of her own past spilled out as well, although not all of what she reveals in the book.
Sitting there that night with Joy and sharing my guilt and shame and frustration and the fear that I still held, she helped me see God's forgiveness and the opportunity for redemption in making beauty from ashes. My heart was light as I left the station that night.
Fast forward many years later and imagine my excitement when I heard she was publishing a book. I had a feeling she would be open and raw on the topic and I was not wrong! In fact, when I first started reading, I found myself blushing at some parts and thinking, "Well, I'm not sure if I can recommend this to________."
Here's the thing, though. Joy's real writing is what the women who read this book are going to need. She says things like they are, not tip toe-ing around topics and even tackling issues like pornography and romance novels in the chapter "Fifty Shades of Counterfeit."
I needed "The Joy Thief" chapter and could relate 100% to chapters like "Honey, I Have A {Life.}" I laughed throughout the book and cried at parts as well. It got to a point where I had a hard time putting it down and was staying up late to keep reading.
Another great thing Joy did in the book was put "Reflection & Action" questions at the end of the chapters. This lets you dive in deeper and make it personal, not just an opportunity to read and maybe retain some of it the next day.
I would recommend this book both to married women and to singles. You can learn more about Joy and the book "XES" at her website simplybloom.org. While you're there, check out the recipes section. Her Easy Baked Oatmeal has been one of our family favorites over the past few years.
My friend, Joy McMillan, released a book last month and I am thankful to be able to read it and write a review on it. It's called "XES: Why church girls tend to get it backwards...and how to get it right."
First of all, let me tell you a little story:
During the summer following my sophomore year of college I did my internship at a Christian radio station in Lansing called The Light. The program director at the time was the fantastic Mike Couchman, whom you may have heard before either in Lansing or Grand Rapids or Las Vegas or now in St. Louis. All summer I heard about another intern at the station who was home in South Africa visiting her family. Sadly, I only had a few short weeks at the end of the summer with a bubbly, friendly, warm young woman named Joy.
There is a strong memory I have of the two of us sitting on the floor in one of the offices after everyone else had left for the day. We were probably working on something volunteer related, and as we chatted, the conversation turned to relationships and somehow my ugly past came spilling out. Parts of her own past spilled out as well, although not all of what she reveals in the book.
Sitting there that night with Joy and sharing my guilt and shame and frustration and the fear that I still held, she helped me see God's forgiveness and the opportunity for redemption in making beauty from ashes. My heart was light as I left the station that night.
Fast forward many years later and imagine my excitement when I heard she was publishing a book. I had a feeling she would be open and raw on the topic and I was not wrong! In fact, when I first started reading, I found myself blushing at some parts and thinking, "Well, I'm not sure if I can recommend this to________."
Here's the thing, though. Joy's real writing is what the women who read this book are going to need. She says things like they are, not tip toe-ing around topics and even tackling issues like pornography and romance novels in the chapter "Fifty Shades of Counterfeit."
I needed "The Joy Thief" chapter and could relate 100% to chapters like "Honey, I Have A {Life.}" I laughed throughout the book and cried at parts as well. It got to a point where I had a hard time putting it down and was staying up late to keep reading.
Another great thing Joy did in the book was put "Reflection & Action" questions at the end of the chapters. This lets you dive in deeper and make it personal, not just an opportunity to read and maybe retain some of it the next day.
I would recommend this book both to married women and to singles. You can learn more about Joy and the book "XES" at her website simplybloom.org. While you're there, check out the recipes section. Her Easy Baked Oatmeal has been one of our family favorites over the past few years.
Monday, May 19, 2014
Better?
Lately I've been bothered by the word "better."
It's all over magazines I see while waiting in line at the grocery store or walking around in the library:
Find a better career
Tips for a better sex life
Tricks for better hair...make up...skin
Exercises to help you get a better body
The Christian world is not exempt either:
5 more minutes to a better quiet time
Have a better marriage
Be a better wife
Worship better in church, the car, doing dishes in the kitchen
Be a better version of who God made you to be.
No wonder I spend my days beating myself up, stressing myself out, going over my mistakes from the day as I fall asleep. I spend so much time trying to be better that I don't even know what I'm trying to be better than. I don't even know who I am right now, in this moment, because my days are filled with trying to be more...better. Because the literature all around me is telling me who I am right now is not good enough.
I'm calling this out as a lie. I'm choosing to start focusing on growth instead of making myself better. The words don't seem that entirely different until you take them by definition.
(Definitions from Merriam-Webster Dictionary)
*Better - higher in quality; more skillful; more attractive, appealing, effective, useful, etc.
*Grow - to become more developed, mature, etc.
I see being better as a competition and so I'm constantly comparing myself to other women around me. I see growth being a beautiful process that takes who I am now and over time adds to this woman.
I want to grow in wisdom.
I want to grow in knowledge.
I want to grow in strength.
I want to grow in love.
Maybe this only makes sense in my head. I don't know if anyone will relate. But I know that coming to this realization and the desire to stop pressuring myself to be better and instead appreciating who God made me to be and how I can grow in the depth of that person is like a weight off my shoulders.
It's all over magazines I see while waiting in line at the grocery store or walking around in the library:
Find a better career
Tips for a better sex life
Tricks for better hair...make up...skin
Exercises to help you get a better body
The Christian world is not exempt either:
5 more minutes to a better quiet time
Have a better marriage
Be a better wife
Worship better in church, the car, doing dishes in the kitchen
Be a better version of who God made you to be.
No wonder I spend my days beating myself up, stressing myself out, going over my mistakes from the day as I fall asleep. I spend so much time trying to be better that I don't even know what I'm trying to be better than. I don't even know who I am right now, in this moment, because my days are filled with trying to be more...better. Because the literature all around me is telling me who I am right now is not good enough.
I'm calling this out as a lie. I'm choosing to start focusing on growth instead of making myself better. The words don't seem that entirely different until you take them by definition.
(Definitions from Merriam-Webster Dictionary)
*Better - higher in quality; more skillful; more attractive, appealing, effective, useful, etc.
*Grow - to become more developed, mature, etc.
I see being better as a competition and so I'm constantly comparing myself to other women around me. I see growth being a beautiful process that takes who I am now and over time adds to this woman.
I want to grow in wisdom.
I want to grow in knowledge.
I want to grow in strength.
I want to grow in love.
Maybe this only makes sense in my head. I don't know if anyone will relate. But I know that coming to this realization and the desire to stop pressuring myself to be better and instead appreciating who God made me to be and how I can grow in the depth of that person is like a weight off my shoulders.
Wednesday, May 07, 2014
House
The exterior looks the same as it did over 10 years ago when Tim and I purchased it and he carried me over the threshold. A first home of newlyweds married just nine months. Nothing special makes the red brick ranch stand out but still it tugged at my heart today.
Who lives there now? I found myself wondering. Are there kids running down the hallway? Do they snuggle on a couch in front of the fireplace on cold winter evenings?
And it surprises me that while a flood of memories come back to me when I look at the house, the current owners know none of them.
They don't know about the painting party our friends joined us for to spend a day laboring as worker bees to get the house ready to move into.
They never laughed while Pippin, our first baby - a chocolate lab puppy - got into all sorts of mischief and tried to convince us as he grew that he was still just a 75 pound lap dog. Love me, love me, pet me, love me, he would pant as he jumped onto the couch and curled up between us.
They don't know that there was an evening where candle light framed a marriage proposal between two of our dear friends, one who was living in our basement at the time. A marriage journey began in that living room and thrives today, years and two children later.
They never heard the shriek of happiness and joyful tears that filled the bathroom when a pregnancy test came out positive.
They are not aware that there are spaces on the floor where I have crumpled, sobbing and crying out to God to heal my heart after the loss of my grandmother and soon after the loss of our first pregnancy.
They never saw how I stilled myself on beds in the rooms and stared at walls willing the hurt and grief to lessen.
Then, quick months later, more shrieks - hesitant this time - at another positive test, then one more, just to be certain.
That wainscoting in the back room? It was a labor of love by Tim and a friend to prepare the nursery for a baby boy's arrival. On the small wall in that room, I painstakingly painted a Hawaiian themed mural that matched crib bedding.
And in the wee hours of August 16, 2005, they never know my eyes flew open as I felt my first contraction...then more...and after a few hours of walking that hallway and timing contractions, Tim and I walked out the side door for the last time as just a young married couple.
They weren't there to witness our arrival home a few days later as a family of three, to have hearts full of joy and anxiety as we tried to figure out what to do with this small bundle the nurses let us bring home from the hospital.
Those rooms and hallways have been crawled through, walls have been used as support for a toddler learning to stand and then walk along.
Fires have been enjoyed in that fireplace, nestled between built-in shelves that made a young bride quite happy to have a place for her books.
The dining room saw many happy gatherings with friends, family, and held a table graced with food for bridal and baby showers.
And yet, we were just one owner for a short time in a house that is over 60 years old. What other stories and memories does that house hold?
I think that about the one we live in now, too. What laughter, tears, fights, joy, parties, decisions, and growth have these walls held? It is easy to think of our home possessively. It's "ours." But it hasn't always been and it probably won't always be.
I am certainly thankful for them - both the house we occupy now and the journey being lived here, and the first house we bought and the memories made there in our very young and early marital years.
I wonder if they know that...
Tuesday, May 06, 2014
This Girl of Mine
When I asked Eleanor about her "adventuring" outfit today (a wool hat, cape, zebra print bag, and walking stick topped off with a blue ribbon), she answered:
"Amazing adventures could be anywhere."
Friday, May 02, 2014
Dear Noah
I look at this boy who looks all arms and legs playing in the backyard and it takes me a minute to realize it's you.
How did we get here?
Are you not the 7 pounds, 9 ounces of beautifully formed flesh they placed on my chest, both of us crying as we looked at each other for the first time? Are you not the whitish-blond boy with blue eyes staring so deep into the eyes of those around you that they felt you were peering into their souls? Are you not the small child climbing onto my lap for kisses and hugs and snuggles after waking up from afternoon naps?
How can this small man-child be the same infant, toddler, preschooler? How did you grow so fast?
And I don't know what to do!
You turn 9 this summer and I feel like that is on the verge of something big and I don't know how to let you go. I've never had to raise a boy - or any child - before you. I ask your dad, "How much more responsibility do we give him? What responsibility do we give him? How far can he ride his bike without us? What kind of things is he capable of doing that we hold him back from because we don't know...we just don't know what we're doing?"
Forgive me, Noah. I'm clueless.
I wake up every morning feeling blind to what to expect. I expected the moodiness from Eleanor, from girls. I didn't expect it from growing boys. I never foresaw eye rolling, word snapping, silence of thoughts and self-doubt from boys.
I blame myself often. Maybe I protect you too much. Maybe I need to back off more. Maybe I did this wrong or failed to do this right and I don't want to fail you!...I don't want to fail.
I'm sorry if I've pushed you. I think sometimes I see strengths in you that you don't recognize and maybe I need to just shut up and sit down and really listen to what you want and don't want to do. You're good at soccer, but if you don't want to do it...I won't mention it anymore. I'm good at math and with numbers, but I sure don't like working with them. After 4 years, you want a summer off of swim lessons? Deal. You want to try karate? Big breath in...ok. If that's something you really want to try then I want you to be able to try it. What do I know about karate? Maybe you're a black belt in the making!
I want to help water your strengths. Those abilities and gifts that God has put in your heart and that make you who you are, I want to help you grow in those. When you ask me if a master Lego designer has to go to college first? I don't know, but I'll help you find out. I see what a gift your mind has when you're working with those little blocks and if you want to create Lego masterpieces with your cousin, Cameron, and have a Lego store and share your love of them with other people, then who am I to hold you back?
I wish I could give you acres of trees to climb and land to run on. There are few things that make my heart soar then when I see you up in a tree and even more so when there is a book in your hand and I know your mind is worlds away. We may not travel much outside of visiting family, but you visit so many worlds with those books. It brings me so much joy.
I know we butt heads often lately, Noah. I know that I drive you crazy and you do the same to me. Maybe it's similar personalities. It's probably just that I don't know what I'm doing and you need a little more freedom but I'm still trying to fence you in. I'm trying, Noah. I am. This is new territory for both of us.
You know what keeps me sane, though, even when I am ready to tear out my hair? It's the little moments. The moments where I know that you're still my son and you do still love me. I don't want to raise a mama's boy. I want you to one day leave our house and marry a wonderful young woman and form a life with her. But for now?
Those moments when I'm on the couch reading, maybe "The Hobbit" aloud to all of you, or maybe just a book to myself, and you sit next to me...slowly creeping closer...ever so timidly resting your head against my shoulder to see if it's still ok.
It is still ok.
I love you, Mr. 8-year old.
How did we get here?
Are you not the 7 pounds, 9 ounces of beautifully formed flesh they placed on my chest, both of us crying as we looked at each other for the first time? Are you not the whitish-blond boy with blue eyes staring so deep into the eyes of those around you that they felt you were peering into their souls? Are you not the small child climbing onto my lap for kisses and hugs and snuggles after waking up from afternoon naps?
How can this small man-child be the same infant, toddler, preschooler? How did you grow so fast?
And I don't know what to do!
You turn 9 this summer and I feel like that is on the verge of something big and I don't know how to let you go. I've never had to raise a boy - or any child - before you. I ask your dad, "How much more responsibility do we give him? What responsibility do we give him? How far can he ride his bike without us? What kind of things is he capable of doing that we hold him back from because we don't know...we just don't know what we're doing?"
Forgive me, Noah. I'm clueless.
I wake up every morning feeling blind to what to expect. I expected the moodiness from Eleanor, from girls. I didn't expect it from growing boys. I never foresaw eye rolling, word snapping, silence of thoughts and self-doubt from boys.
I blame myself often. Maybe I protect you too much. Maybe I need to back off more. Maybe I did this wrong or failed to do this right and I don't want to fail you!...I don't want to fail.
I'm sorry if I've pushed you. I think sometimes I see strengths in you that you don't recognize and maybe I need to just shut up and sit down and really listen to what you want and don't want to do. You're good at soccer, but if you don't want to do it...I won't mention it anymore. I'm good at math and with numbers, but I sure don't like working with them. After 4 years, you want a summer off of swim lessons? Deal. You want to try karate? Big breath in...ok. If that's something you really want to try then I want you to be able to try it. What do I know about karate? Maybe you're a black belt in the making!
I want to help water your strengths. Those abilities and gifts that God has put in your heart and that make you who you are, I want to help you grow in those. When you ask me if a master Lego designer has to go to college first? I don't know, but I'll help you find out. I see what a gift your mind has when you're working with those little blocks and if you want to create Lego masterpieces with your cousin, Cameron, and have a Lego store and share your love of them with other people, then who am I to hold you back?
I wish I could give you acres of trees to climb and land to run on. There are few things that make my heart soar then when I see you up in a tree and even more so when there is a book in your hand and I know your mind is worlds away. We may not travel much outside of visiting family, but you visit so many worlds with those books. It brings me so much joy.
I know we butt heads often lately, Noah. I know that I drive you crazy and you do the same to me. Maybe it's similar personalities. It's probably just that I don't know what I'm doing and you need a little more freedom but I'm still trying to fence you in. I'm trying, Noah. I am. This is new territory for both of us.
You know what keeps me sane, though, even when I am ready to tear out my hair? It's the little moments. The moments where I know that you're still my son and you do still love me. I don't want to raise a mama's boy. I want you to one day leave our house and marry a wonderful young woman and form a life with her. But for now?
Those moments when I'm on the couch reading, maybe "The Hobbit" aloud to all of you, or maybe just a book to myself, and you sit next to me...slowly creeping closer...ever so timidly resting your head against my shoulder to see if it's still ok.
It is still ok.
I love you, Mr. 8-year old.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
More Than Sweat
My alarm drags me out of a pleasant sleep that seems like it took forever to even fall into. I hit the snooze button, just in case, but am already rubbing my eyes and stretching, quietly grumbling about morning coming too soon.
The truth is, I don't have to get out of bed this morning as the sun is also rising. I would much rather remain warm and cozy under blankets than feel my feet hit a chilly wood floor. Yet I get up, grabbing a pile of clothes and heading into the bathroom to change.
I leave the house, re-tie a shoe when I get to the end of the driveway, and immediately start quickly walking...in part to warm up my cold muscles but also to meet my friend, Carrie, who has already turned the corner we were supposed to meet at and is walking my way.
She suggests a different route than what we had talked about, and I agree because it's actually a favorite of mine, although I haven't traveled it in almost a year. We walk to a corner before breaking into a run.
Running. For so long I identified with the joke, "If I ever had to run for my life, I would die." I wasn't athletic growing up. Clumsy, yes. Coordinated...not so much. Seriously. I twisted my ankle after youth group in high school on the sidewalk. My only broken bone happened while I was in middle school. It was a rib I broke while sneezing. Pure athletic talent, right?
So when I decided a few years ago that I wanted to start running, it was a slow and inconsistent thing. I didn't have anyone I was running with so there was no motivation. Then last spring I kind of freaked out about running by myself and asked Carrie if she wanted to join me.
There was a long and hesitant pause on the other end of the phone. I told her we could walk instead. I just wanted to be out getting some kind of physical activity. She agreed to that, and surprised me days later when she said she would be interested in working up to running. Working between the C25K program and another program laid out in the book, "Running Made Easy," we took off.
We ran through the spring, summer, fall, and beginning of winter, until illness, harsh weather, and crazy schedules inched in. I was surprised the first time we ran while the snow was falling lightly - I had never run in cold weather before, and surely not snow!
As spring has found its way back into Michigan, slowly, Carrie and I have started meeting up to run again. She had continued running over the winter and I told Tim that I had to laugh when, starting back into it, I realized we had reversed roles from the previous April. Instead of me encouraging her to go just a little further and letting her know what a great job she was doing, she was doing it for me! I had definitely gotten out of shape, but at the same time it was kind of like riding a bike, my body wanted to run and seemed to pick it back up easier than I thought it would.
This morning she really pushed me. We've been doing maybe around 2 1/2 miles and yesterday she said, "Hey, why don't we go a bit longer tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I was thinking it would be nice to get three miles in," I answered back.
"Or maybe four," she suggested. "We can always take walk breaks."
"What?! Who are you??" I didn't know how to answer. I don't even know if we had gotten up to 4 miles when we were running together before. "Sure. I'll definitely need to walk a bit, though."
"No problem," she said cheerfully.
Miles 2-3 were the most challenging for me. I was pushing myself further than I had in months. Suddenly, an idea came to my head. We had been talking about concerns in our lives and I asked if she wanted to pray about them. So we spent that time praying out loud for each other and for our kids and friends and whatever came to mind. We thanked God for a beautiful morning, the opportunity to be outside running, and healthy bodies. That distance may have ended up being the easiest one for me in the end.
By that time we had decided to push ourselves a little further. Actually, I should say that I stopped resisting Carrie gently pushing me. She's a beast and has been training for her first 10K (see, I've created a monster!) so she is used to these longer runs.
From 4 to just over 4.5 miles, we talked about what running has meant to us. She talked about how it brings her a peace and relieves stress. We talked about how Jesus ultimately does that, but I think that where we feel it spiritually in our soul with Him, running embodies that and puts it into a physical sense. We talked about how it's something that we can take the time to do for ourselves to help us focus on the day and be better moms and wives as a result.
Sometimes I picture my feet while running. Every time a foot comes up, I can visualize the dirt and debris from the sidewalks and roads that are falling back to the earth. I also feel like for me, it's a good illustration of how running relieves my stress. I picture some of my tension, nerves, and stress falling away to the ground with the dirt for every step I run. I feel lighter by the time I get home.
While saying goodbye to Carrie in front of her house, she mentioned how close I was to 5 miles (she has a watch that was tracking our distance.) I decided to run the rest of the way home, past our house a little bit to the corner we started at to make it a full 5 miles, and then walked back home to where morning chaos had begun and the smell of bacon filled the air.
I never, ever, ever thought I would enjoy running. Ever. I thought I was too old to try, like it had to be something you had started while young and in school. I thought it was silly to think I could run more than a mile, and then three. I cannot believe the joy and energy it has brought. Many days, especially weekends, when I return, Tim then heads out for his own run.
Pinterest is where I saw the running joke I mentioned in the beginning of this post. Yesterday Carrie had pinned a statement that fits my life much better now:
"Run - it releases so much more than just sweat."
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Encouragement in Psalm 66
You know how sometimes you've read thing more times than you can count, and yet it doesn't hit you and stick with you until your 37th time reading it?
Yeah, that happens to me, too. It happened to me Monday morning during my quiet time. I was reading Psalm 66 and this part just jumped right off the page at me:
"For you, O God, have tested us;
you have tried us as silver is tried.
You brought us into the net;
you laid a crushing burden on our backs;
you let men ride over our heads;
we went through fire and through water;
yet you have brought us out to a place of abundance."
(verses 10-12)
We're going through some challenging times. There are some assessments with one of the kids and we're feeling very weak right now, overwhelmed, a bit relieved that answers might be forthcoming, but when you have that on top of everything else we're involved with on top of Tim's work picking up and him trying to find a helper, life feels like a crushing burden.
I love that this verse says God has tested us - He's allowed all these things that feel crushing, overwhelming, insane to happen.
BUT, But, but.....
"You have brought us out to a place of abundance."
He is not going to leave us crushed, overwhelmed, and crazy. He's going to bring us THROUGH! He's not only going to bring us through but into a place of abundance. Walking through these trials will bring us an abundance of maybe joy, or peace, or a stronger faith, or stronger family relationships. I'm just so relieved He'll bring me through!
If you are having a day that you feel like the whole world is crashing down on you, I hope you'll have great faith that God is trying to bring you through it and draw you closer to Him during your trial. It does not feel easy, but there is a peace when you know He is there.
Yeah, that happens to me, too. It happened to me Monday morning during my quiet time. I was reading Psalm 66 and this part just jumped right off the page at me:
"For you, O God, have tested us;
you have tried us as silver is tried.
You brought us into the net;
you laid a crushing burden on our backs;
you let men ride over our heads;
we went through fire and through water;
yet you have brought us out to a place of abundance."
(verses 10-12)
We're going through some challenging times. There are some assessments with one of the kids and we're feeling very weak right now, overwhelmed, a bit relieved that answers might be forthcoming, but when you have that on top of everything else we're involved with on top of Tim's work picking up and him trying to find a helper, life feels like a crushing burden.
I love that this verse says God has tested us - He's allowed all these things that feel crushing, overwhelming, insane to happen.
BUT, But, but.....
"You have brought us out to a place of abundance."
He is not going to leave us crushed, overwhelmed, and crazy. He's going to bring us THROUGH! He's not only going to bring us through but into a place of abundance. Walking through these trials will bring us an abundance of maybe joy, or peace, or a stronger faith, or stronger family relationships. I'm just so relieved He'll bring me through!
If you are having a day that you feel like the whole world is crashing down on you, I hope you'll have great faith that God is trying to bring you through it and draw you closer to Him during your trial. It does not feel easy, but there is a peace when you know He is there.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Shifting
I think parents have a vision of bedtime being this wonderful peaceful way to wind down a day. I see a picture of a family snuggled up on a couch reading stories and praying together before walking kids up to their beds, pulling blankets snugly up around them, kissing sweet angelic cheeks and turning out the light while saying sweetly, "Good night, my lovelies." Then all is quiet in the house while Mom and Dad unwind while reading books and newspapers and magazines.
That's my vision.
This is my reality as of late:
Things are going well through the book reading part. Then comes the bedtime prayer together and, lo and behold, it is as if the younger ones know what comes next and the fight begins. Escaping from bed repeatedly, requests for "one more sip" (often denied since they get a little water before bed), one more trip to the bathroom, non stop talking, etc. Next thing Tim and I know, we're wrapped up in their chaos just to get them to be quiet and go to bed. While trying to enjoy a movie together, there is a constant pausing and exchange of "It's-your-turn" looks until somewhere a half hour or so later, they finally give up and drift off while we are on the verge of quitting parenthood or contemplating telling childless couples to keep their lives simple and don't give in to the "When are you going to have kids?" pressure. Hey, you may not like what I'm saying; I'm just being honest about the feelings in that moment.
You know what bothers me most about all this monkey business? Yes, the disobedience is aggravating and the stalling is exhausting, but what bothers me most is my reactionary attitude. I have gone from those blissful dreams of a lovely bedtime routine - which we have experienced along the way, don't get me wrong - to this raging monster of a mother who has waited all day for some quiet time alone with her husband and is mad that it's being taken over by little buggers. I find it easy to fly off the handle and yell at the kids because I have dealt with them all day long and I just need a break, good night. And honestly, when you're at home you're never on break because even during bedtime you're still there and still a parent. But, anyways, I hate who I am during the bedtime battle. And, yes, I realize that it probably reveals a heart issue, but that's probably for another blog post.
Tonight I caught myself in the battle alone since Tim is at a meeting. About a half hour into it I found my voice starting to get louder and my jaw becoming sore from clenching it while hissing out the words "Get back in bed and be quiet." I don't know what hit me, but as I was walking up the stairs yet again, a voice in my head said, "You have 4 mainly healthy kids. They were given to you. Shift your perspective."
So instead of wishing I was totally alone in the house, I thanked God for my 4 little ones.
Instead of wanting to tape their mouths shut, I gave thanks that they can speak and have healthy sets of lungs.
Instead of losing my patience with their climbing out of bed, I was thankful for their abilities to walk (especially since the youngest two had to have physical therapy to help them walk.)
Who would have thought that less than 5 minutes later, all would be quiet in the house? It was almost as if the battle stopped cold actually. I heard Caleb's voice drift off while singing "Do you want to build a snowman?" (his favorite song at the moment. He sings it all day long, no matter where we are. Just ask the lady in the restroom at Frederick Meijer Gardens yesterday.)
I am not writing this for advice regarding bedtime. We've tried everything and have accepted that this may just be a phase when you have kids...especially when the youngest two are still 4 years old and 2 years old. Noah and Ellie go to bed just fine for us.
I mainly wanted to encourage that sometimes it just takes a shift in perspective to allow God's strength to come upon you. Thankfulness is a powerful thing. It keeps your heart focused on what's important. It's easy to become pessimistic and downtrodden but when your heart is thankful, the rest of you follows.
"And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." ~Colossians 3:17
That's my vision.
This is my reality as of late:
Things are going well through the book reading part. Then comes the bedtime prayer together and, lo and behold, it is as if the younger ones know what comes next and the fight begins. Escaping from bed repeatedly, requests for "one more sip" (often denied since they get a little water before bed), one more trip to the bathroom, non stop talking, etc. Next thing Tim and I know, we're wrapped up in their chaos just to get them to be quiet and go to bed. While trying to enjoy a movie together, there is a constant pausing and exchange of "It's-your-turn" looks until somewhere a half hour or so later, they finally give up and drift off while we are on the verge of quitting parenthood or contemplating telling childless couples to keep their lives simple and don't give in to the "When are you going to have kids?" pressure. Hey, you may not like what I'm saying; I'm just being honest about the feelings in that moment.
You know what bothers me most about all this monkey business? Yes, the disobedience is aggravating and the stalling is exhausting, but what bothers me most is my reactionary attitude. I have gone from those blissful dreams of a lovely bedtime routine - which we have experienced along the way, don't get me wrong - to this raging monster of a mother who has waited all day for some quiet time alone with her husband and is mad that it's being taken over by little buggers. I find it easy to fly off the handle and yell at the kids because I have dealt with them all day long and I just need a break, good night. And honestly, when you're at home you're never on break because even during bedtime you're still there and still a parent. But, anyways, I hate who I am during the bedtime battle. And, yes, I realize that it probably reveals a heart issue, but that's probably for another blog post.
Tonight I caught myself in the battle alone since Tim is at a meeting. About a half hour into it I found my voice starting to get louder and my jaw becoming sore from clenching it while hissing out the words "Get back in bed and be quiet." I don't know what hit me, but as I was walking up the stairs yet again, a voice in my head said, "You have 4 mainly healthy kids. They were given to you. Shift your perspective."
So instead of wishing I was totally alone in the house, I thanked God for my 4 little ones.
Instead of wanting to tape their mouths shut, I gave thanks that they can speak and have healthy sets of lungs.
Instead of losing my patience with their climbing out of bed, I was thankful for their abilities to walk (especially since the youngest two had to have physical therapy to help them walk.)
Who would have thought that less than 5 minutes later, all would be quiet in the house? It was almost as if the battle stopped cold actually. I heard Caleb's voice drift off while singing "Do you want to build a snowman?" (his favorite song at the moment. He sings it all day long, no matter where we are. Just ask the lady in the restroom at Frederick Meijer Gardens yesterday.)
I am not writing this for advice regarding bedtime. We've tried everything and have accepted that this may just be a phase when you have kids...especially when the youngest two are still 4 years old and 2 years old. Noah and Ellie go to bed just fine for us.
I mainly wanted to encourage that sometimes it just takes a shift in perspective to allow God's strength to come upon you. Thankfulness is a powerful thing. It keeps your heart focused on what's important. It's easy to become pessimistic and downtrodden but when your heart is thankful, the rest of you follows.
"And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." ~Colossians 3:17
Friday, March 21, 2014
Lighter
A pen falls upon the paper, writes, lifts up. There is the scratching out of words with pauses to reflect upon what is being said, quietly mumbled awkward and short prayers that the Lord will give the pen the words to write.
It's hard to do something you need to, that God has told you to, but that you don't want to.
Over five years ago, I had a falling out with a family member. I won't go into what the relation is or what the situation was, but it was a large enough incidence that it has changed our entire family dynamic. And when I say "entire" I mean aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters, grandma, entire.
I was blamed for things I didn't do, say, or think and there has been a dump of hurt stinking up my heart since. It hurts worst in the beginning and as time goes by and reconciliation looks more and more impossible, it's easy to live life with incidents forgotten and shoved down under mounds of daily life and present needs.
But sometimes what a heart needs most is to be free...chains broken, light enough to fly, released from bitterness that steeps. It means learning to forgive what most likely won't be confessed and asking for forgiveness for what was your mistake.
Over the years I have thought about writing this letter. Tim has mentioned at random times that I should really write this letter. I didn't want to do it, though. I didn't know where to even begin. So I turned from what God was repeatedly revealing at intervals to me to instead live with my hurt because if I tried hard enough I could make it numb.
After taking last year away from the ladies' Bible study at my church to ease the transition into homeschooling, I was excited to jump back in this year. Little did I know what the year would hold for me. As we have been working through Beth Moore's study on the life of David, I have felt a peeling back of the layers in my heart. When I felt a certain name come into my mind, though, I was quick to push it back down.
I continued to dance around what the Lord was telling me to do, but He was doing it with more persistence and urgency this time. Consistently, I would struggle through this. One week I would feel ready to do it and the next I would go so far as to clamp my mouth shut against a quivering chin and rebellious heart as we did an exercise in forgiveness.
When it came time in David's story to learn about Amnon, Tamar, Absalom, David, and a legion of emotions felt but never dealt with, I knew I couldn't wait any longer. Each week God prepared my heart and soul more for what needed to happen. It was not lightly that I sat down with my notebook and pen and a prayerful heart.
After I wrote it and prayed over it, I shared it with two sage and godly women to check me on tone, motives, and if anything needed to be taken out. I wanted to take responsibility for what was mine, but I didn't want it to be flowery or take responsibility for what was hers.
And then it went into the mail.
I don't know how it will be received. I believe it will be a miracle if there is reconciliation that comes from this. You know what, though? Sometimes you need to do things because it's what right, not because you expect something to come from it
. I needed to be the one to break the ice here. I needed to ask forgiveness for what I had done wrong. I also need to be willing to forgive in my heart the hurt she brought, even if she never asks for it.
And by doing that?
I can go from this moment lighter. I know that God called me to do something and instead of turning and running...again...I acted in obedience. And, really, that's what matters most. My obedience to the Lord. I am not here to make others happy, but to glorify God. He has begun a good work in me (Philippians 1:6) and through my life He is going to keep shaping me and working in me until my day of completion when I join Him.
It's hard to do something you need to, that God has told you to, but that you don't want to.
Over five years ago, I had a falling out with a family member. I won't go into what the relation is or what the situation was, but it was a large enough incidence that it has changed our entire family dynamic. And when I say "entire" I mean aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters, grandma, entire.
I was blamed for things I didn't do, say, or think and there has been a dump of hurt stinking up my heart since. It hurts worst in the beginning and as time goes by and reconciliation looks more and more impossible, it's easy to live life with incidents forgotten and shoved down under mounds of daily life and present needs.
But sometimes what a heart needs most is to be free...chains broken, light enough to fly, released from bitterness that steeps. It means learning to forgive what most likely won't be confessed and asking for forgiveness for what was your mistake.
Over the years I have thought about writing this letter. Tim has mentioned at random times that I should really write this letter. I didn't want to do it, though. I didn't know where to even begin. So I turned from what God was repeatedly revealing at intervals to me to instead live with my hurt because if I tried hard enough I could make it numb.
After taking last year away from the ladies' Bible study at my church to ease the transition into homeschooling, I was excited to jump back in this year. Little did I know what the year would hold for me. As we have been working through Beth Moore's study on the life of David, I have felt a peeling back of the layers in my heart. When I felt a certain name come into my mind, though, I was quick to push it back down.
I continued to dance around what the Lord was telling me to do, but He was doing it with more persistence and urgency this time. Consistently, I would struggle through this. One week I would feel ready to do it and the next I would go so far as to clamp my mouth shut against a quivering chin and rebellious heart as we did an exercise in forgiveness.
When it came time in David's story to learn about Amnon, Tamar, Absalom, David, and a legion of emotions felt but never dealt with, I knew I couldn't wait any longer. Each week God prepared my heart and soul more for what needed to happen. It was not lightly that I sat down with my notebook and pen and a prayerful heart.
After I wrote it and prayed over it, I shared it with two sage and godly women to check me on tone, motives, and if anything needed to be taken out. I wanted to take responsibility for what was mine, but I didn't want it to be flowery or take responsibility for what was hers.
And then it went into the mail.
I don't know how it will be received. I believe it will be a miracle if there is reconciliation that comes from this. You know what, though? Sometimes you need to do things because it's what right, not because you expect something to come from it
. I needed to be the one to break the ice here. I needed to ask forgiveness for what I had done wrong. I also need to be willing to forgive in my heart the hurt she brought, even if she never asks for it.
And by doing that?
I can go from this moment lighter. I know that God called me to do something and instead of turning and running...again...I acted in obedience. And, really, that's what matters most. My obedience to the Lord. I am not here to make others happy, but to glorify God. He has begun a good work in me (Philippians 1:6) and through my life He is going to keep shaping me and working in me until my day of completion when I join Him.
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