I stand in the kitchen and stare at the counter. No boys' lunchboxes deposited where they should be, waiting to receive food for the day. I sigh and think instead of the happiness of reaching for my husband in the early hours and finding him ready to hold me close, my first gift of the day.
For the most part, the mornings have been manageable this week. Sure, there are moments. The spills. The tantrums. The lamp knocked over again. The screaming, fighting siblings. The whining and pouting. The poop or spit up everywhere. Stop, you're into something you shouldn't be! I clean up one thing and turn around, MORE mess! I put out one fire and another springs up...but it takes one look at my baby to bring me back. I cannot help but offer thanks for the miracle of his presence. Then I look around, and I cannot help but see God's gifts there too. Then I see the beautiful smile on my toddler's face. I usually miss it as I cringe in frustration, extricating her from yet another curiosity gone wrong. I see my son's enthusiastic face as he happily entertains himself. I hear my daughter's happy voice as she hums along to another melody she's heard recently. I look out the window and see His creation. I see God's gifts everywhere, and they bring me back.
The afternoons, they're harder. The afternoon brings my older sons and husband home. All people whom I love SO MUCH...bringing compounded noise and energy. They collide with the fragile equilibrium over which I pretend to preside. I am tired, and there are more people for the same eyes and hands to contend with, which yields MORE mess, noise and conflict! In the midst of this and the aftermath of this, Philippians 4:5 comes back to me. "Let your gentleness be evident to all."
I haven't told my husband or my children about my list of thanksgiving. Because, I wonder if this thankfulness I am learning to cultivate in my heart through the continual prompting of the Spirit will not only draw me closer to the Lord but also bring about the bearing of all those other fruits which would be evident in my speech and actions without my ever having to explain myself. Evident to all.
Will my speech be more gentle, slow to anger, less defensive? Will my discipline be characterized by more patience and self-control? Will my husband notice that as I am filled with more gratitude, I complain less, that I see opportunities to be thankful where I would not have before? Will my every act as mother and wife and friend be filled with more genuine kindness and love? Will I have a deeper faith that grows both inwardly and outwardly?
I wonder if they will see it, if others will see it, the peace that I'm coming to feel when I am tempted, yet again, to lash out in another act of sinfulness. When my world, my world that I love, all comes clashing together, will they see that the Lord is my calm in the storm? I am thankful for all of the gifts He gives me in the morning AND in the evening, in the sunshine and in the rain. He is the one who calms the seas! He is sovereign over all this and more, every moment of my day. I am thankful for it, I search for it, and I desire that that thanks would be evident.
101) the middle-of-the-night hug, reached for and found in the darkness
102) the comforting softness of my memory foam mattress against me
103) the uninterrupted night's sleep
104) the too-long sleeves hanging down over my son's hands
105) the "Ta-Da!" issued triumphantly from my son's mouth as he buttons his own coat
106) the dark, gray clouds heavy with rain
107) the mist on my face, water condensed in air
108) the reading of a child's favorite book, with sound effects!
109) the abundance of food in my cupboards on the day when there usually isn't
110) the curtains glowing through with the light behind them
111) the sweet good-bye kiss from my daughter before she enters her classroom
112) the feet that dance
113) the conviction of the Holy Spirit
114) the sunshine pouring bright and golden over the grass as the clouds roll away
115) the greenish design on my Starry Midnight stoneware that hints of Celtic origins
116) the water running diagonally down the grooves in my griddle like so many rushing streams
117) the small hand of my daughter holding mine as she sits next to me while I feed her baby brother
118) the black and tan puppy head cocked inquisitively to the side
119) the couch pillows supporting my back while I nurse
120) the way my son remembered to remove his dirty shoes before running through the house
121) the smokey smell of the blazing fire pit seeping into the house
122) the flickering of orange flame fast engulfing a kindling tripod
123) the red-hot embers dancing away on the wind
124) the white-black crackle of charring bark
125) the old hard-cover, carry-on luggage that my toddler daughter moves back and forth across the kitchen as a stool, following my every move, so as to get the closest view of each stage in dinner's preparation
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Day 4-It's All Connected
I look down at the space between my desk and the wall. There sits the gate from yesterday, still unfixed and unusable. The couch hovers in my peripheral vision still covered with the laundry I started working on two days ago. I sigh. I'm thinking again about Philippians 4. Specifically, verses 4 and 5, "Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all." They don't quite seem to fit with the verses that follow, verses that seem more important and powerful to me, verses about anxiety, petitioning the Lord, the peace of God and, yes, thanksgiving. And yet, there they are. I think about it. Gentleness? What is gentleness exactly? I'm not sure that word characterizes me. I think about it some more. It is a fruit of the Spirit. So, I flip through my Bible and read Galations 5:22-26.
"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other."
Love? I demonstrate that sometimes. Joy? Well, I'm working on that; hopefully it will be a spiritual manifestation of the inward maturation that comes through this exercise of "journaling." Patience? Let's move on. Kindness, goodness, faithfulness, self-control? Ha! Gentleness? The Lord knows how woefully deficient I am in all these areas. And yet, these attributes are the mark of a Christian!
Now, I'm fully aware that this side of heaven, perfection is not an option. Only Jesus Christ was perfect in every aspect of his character. But I am called to be like Christ. AT least, more like him over the course of my life as I work out my salvation...that's sanctification, a good old theological term. It rings true. It's a process, not an event. Certainly, I am a new creation in Christ, but I don't automatically bear fully-ripened fruit...so where do I start? Where does the Holy Spirit begin this work in me?
I look at the list. Thankfulness is noticeably absent. Why? It seems like a worthy quality. Jesus himself gave thanks over and over to the Father during his life and ministry. Aren't we to emulate him? I look back at verse 4 of Philippians 4. Rejoice in the Lord always. Rejoice. That's another way to say, be glad! Be grateful! Give thanks! What if...what if it's all connected!? What if giving thanks not only begets the peace of God...but it also precedes the fruits of the Spirit as well? What if offering thanks to our Lord daily plants the heart-seeds which bloom to bear spiritual fruit? If my heart is brimming full with gratitude to the Lord, it spills over into every other area so that I, who have been shown MUCH grace, extend that grace in equal or greater measure to others with more love, more kindness, more patience, more, more, more.
What an excellent list! All the more reason to press on with mine today...continuing to record the good gifts of the Lord for which I am truly thankful!
76) the little ear, curved against my baby's face, that hears and knows my voice
77) the small fingers, grasped securely about my thumb
78) the sweet gaze of a father who looks lovingly at his son
79) the sound of scripture recited from the mouth of a child
80) the kaleidoscope of natural color in the rocks I find in my bathroom sink
81) the smell of fire on the morning air
82) the intricate swirl of glaze on the cream and brown Romanian pottery gracing my kitchen windowsill
83) the boo-boos brought to me for healing kisses
84) the squeezable chubbiness of my baby's growing legs
85) the fountain that springs from my faucet, ready for quenching a child's thirst
86) the cream that brings soothing relief to my baby's chapped skin
87) the way my "Shhhhhhhhh...", face close by my baby's ear, can stem the flow of his tears
88) the mountain breeze that swirls around me when I open the door
89) the hot dish water around my hands whose warmth travels gradually up my limbs and encompasses me
90) the wagging tail of a happy puppy
91) the words from my daughter, "You did that just like Grandma!", one of the best compliments I could receive
92) the wavy, distorted images through our uneven window glass
93) the leaves dancing in the wind
94) the billowing white clouds against a purple-blue sky
95) the twinkling Christmas lights still adorning neighboring shrubbery
96) the cinnamon-sugar pastry filled with sweet apples
97) the unexpected gift of wild raspberry tea
98) the shared moment of muffled laughter with my husband when a child misspeaks
99) the gesture of endearment, running his hand over my hair
100) the laughter shared viewing pictures of our children's day's endeavors
"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other."
Love? I demonstrate that sometimes. Joy? Well, I'm working on that; hopefully it will be a spiritual manifestation of the inward maturation that comes through this exercise of "journaling." Patience? Let's move on. Kindness, goodness, faithfulness, self-control? Ha! Gentleness? The Lord knows how woefully deficient I am in all these areas. And yet, these attributes are the mark of a Christian!
Now, I'm fully aware that this side of heaven, perfection is not an option. Only Jesus Christ was perfect in every aspect of his character. But I am called to be like Christ. AT least, more like him over the course of my life as I work out my salvation...that's sanctification, a good old theological term. It rings true. It's a process, not an event. Certainly, I am a new creation in Christ, but I don't automatically bear fully-ripened fruit...so where do I start? Where does the Holy Spirit begin this work in me?
I look at the list. Thankfulness is noticeably absent. Why? It seems like a worthy quality. Jesus himself gave thanks over and over to the Father during his life and ministry. Aren't we to emulate him? I look back at verse 4 of Philippians 4. Rejoice in the Lord always. Rejoice. That's another way to say, be glad! Be grateful! Give thanks! What if...what if it's all connected!? What if giving thanks not only begets the peace of God...but it also precedes the fruits of the Spirit as well? What if offering thanks to our Lord daily plants the heart-seeds which bloom to bear spiritual fruit? If my heart is brimming full with gratitude to the Lord, it spills over into every other area so that I, who have been shown MUCH grace, extend that grace in equal or greater measure to others with more love, more kindness, more patience, more, more, more.
What an excellent list! All the more reason to press on with mine today...continuing to record the good gifts of the Lord for which I am truly thankful!
76) the little ear, curved against my baby's face, that hears and knows my voice
77) the small fingers, grasped securely about my thumb
78) the sweet gaze of a father who looks lovingly at his son
79) the sound of scripture recited from the mouth of a child
80) the kaleidoscope of natural color in the rocks I find in my bathroom sink
81) the smell of fire on the morning air
82) the intricate swirl of glaze on the cream and brown Romanian pottery gracing my kitchen windowsill
83) the boo-boos brought to me for healing kisses
84) the squeezable chubbiness of my baby's growing legs
85) the fountain that springs from my faucet, ready for quenching a child's thirst
86) the cream that brings soothing relief to my baby's chapped skin
87) the way my "Shhhhhhhhh...", face close by my baby's ear, can stem the flow of his tears
88) the mountain breeze that swirls around me when I open the door
89) the hot dish water around my hands whose warmth travels gradually up my limbs and encompasses me
90) the wagging tail of a happy puppy
91) the words from my daughter, "You did that just like Grandma!", one of the best compliments I could receive
92) the wavy, distorted images through our uneven window glass
93) the leaves dancing in the wind
94) the billowing white clouds against a purple-blue sky
95) the twinkling Christmas lights still adorning neighboring shrubbery
96) the cinnamon-sugar pastry filled with sweet apples
97) the unexpected gift of wild raspberry tea
98) the shared moment of muffled laughter with my husband when a child misspeaks
99) the gesture of endearment, running his hand over my hair
100) the laughter shared viewing pictures of our children's day's endeavors
Day 3-Peace Came
I wake this morning and I know, already, I am going to need this again. My eyes burn as I open them. My neck is stiff. Two children were up in the night. Why do I never feel rested enough? As I stumble up the stairs in the dark, see the orbs of light on the street pass and fade, take in the black fingers of spindly trees outside the window and grab one child from her bed...on to another. Wake up. Start the day. On to the next. Time to get up. Get up.
The blessings aren't registering yet. The gate is off the track again. Unaligned. Useless to bar my busy, into-everything toddler from the kitchen and the refrigerator and the glass and the sharp things. I say out loud, "I will NOT get through the day without this." I snatch a fleeting moment for myself, mixing hot cocoa, topping it with that peppermint whipped cream cloud I thanked God for yesterday, insignificant...but not. Then I realize a diaper needs to be changed, and I fight off petty frustration as the white cloud already begins to dissipate and melt. I know I cannot win this fight.
I look up Philippians 4. Ms Voskamp referenced it in her book.Philippians 4:4-7 says, "Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
Yesterday I recorded the majority of my list for that day by early afternoon. It was a good thing too, because the afternoon and evening provided MANY stressful opportunities for frustration to overwhelm or, more accurately, for the sinfulness of my heart to pour out. The Lord knew I would need the encouragement that sprang from seeing and acknowledging all of His many blessings to me in the morning. Not that they weren't there in the evening as well, it was just more of a struggle to see them. But they were there. I wrote them down to ensure they would not be lost in the chaos. I held on to them. And because I was mindful that the Lord IS near, HE enabled me to make it through.
How strange, really...it's not that I willed myself to stay focused but, as Philipians says, peace came AFTER thanksgiving. Peace came. It does transcend my understanding. Not that MY actions conjured up unusual calm, but that because the day was filled with continual offerings of thanks, my heart was filled with gratitude and contentment in the Lord rather than ingratitude and discontent. In this way, though I felt the flickering flames of frustration start to burn me again and again, the wellspring of Life guarded my heart. Thankfulness made me more aware of the Lord's goodness and all-sufficient grace to me, in ALL things and, especially, in all the little valleys that are the pot-holes in my daily journey.
I know these verses well. I've read them before, because I am anxious ALL the time as I navigate these pot-holes. I feel it already this morning. The urge to rush, to stress...and so I try to pray, I want today what I had yesterday. But I usually gloss over the part about praying with thanksgiving. The arrow hits the mark. I pray, "Lord, help me to see your gifts to me again today. Again. Today. I want to be thankful, not ungrateful, for whatever you have ordained for me."
My hand accidentally brushes across the sensor pad and scrolls back a page. All my thoughts and petitions and thanks gone. No. No! Really? I go back. See an automatically-created draft. It is all there. Saved. I sigh. Thank you. It dawns on me...God receives my thanks even if all this were erased from record. Yes, that's true. I look over and see my toddler gleefully smearing dirt-encrusted shoes all over the ottoman. But I am thankful for the small gift that, for my benefit, it's not.
51) the warm, tear-wet nuzzle in my neck
52) the little hand, pressed flat to my side, as I cradle him close
53) the sweet post-nursing snuggle where time felt suspended, nothing as pressing or urgent as that moment
54) the glistening dew drops suspended in the grass
55) the entwined tree branches, woven dark against the canvas of the clear blue morning sky
54) the color red, that I love, deep and translucent and beautiful in the glass votives on my buffet
56) the encouragement of a dear friend, whose familiarity has weathered the passing of years
57) the wispy curls framing my daughter's face
58) the little feet, kicking the air, peeking up over the bumper's edge as I approach
59) the whistle that sounds from the train chugging along the track
60) the button nose, expertly placed between two chipmunk cheeks, so like mine
61) the notes of a beautiful melody
62) the happy smile on my daughter's face as she proudly helps make my bed, loudly huffing as she carries pillows larger than her little body and mimicking my hand movements as we tuck sheets into place
63) the way he sticks his little tongue out when he smiles, and I laugh with joy every time
64) the smile on my face when, silly that it is, she calls our dachshund "Muh-mut"
65) the crackling of sunlight on my wall, like a delicate white-light spiderweb, shining through the imperfections in our old window glass
66) the sweet, vibrant taste of a juiced orange
67) the health of my children
68) the iridescent bubbles clinging to my dish sink like the foam on distant shores
69) the flecks of red in the stubble on my husband's face
70) the way his arm wraps around me and holds me tight to his side
71) the strong hand that envelopes mine
72) the smell of my baby's head, there is nothing comparable
73) the big, mischievous grin on my son's face when he wants attention and knows he's going to get it
74) the news of potential financial savings on food staples
75) the hands of my daughter, clasped under her chin in prayer
The blessings aren't registering yet. The gate is off the track again. Unaligned. Useless to bar my busy, into-everything toddler from the kitchen and the refrigerator and the glass and the sharp things. I say out loud, "I will NOT get through the day without this." I snatch a fleeting moment for myself, mixing hot cocoa, topping it with that peppermint whipped cream cloud I thanked God for yesterday, insignificant...but not. Then I realize a diaper needs to be changed, and I fight off petty frustration as the white cloud already begins to dissipate and melt. I know I cannot win this fight.
I look up Philippians 4. Ms Voskamp referenced it in her book.Philippians 4:4-7 says, "Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
Yesterday I recorded the majority of my list for that day by early afternoon. It was a good thing too, because the afternoon and evening provided MANY stressful opportunities for frustration to overwhelm or, more accurately, for the sinfulness of my heart to pour out. The Lord knew I would need the encouragement that sprang from seeing and acknowledging all of His many blessings to me in the morning. Not that they weren't there in the evening as well, it was just more of a struggle to see them. But they were there. I wrote them down to ensure they would not be lost in the chaos. I held on to them. And because I was mindful that the Lord IS near, HE enabled me to make it through.
How strange, really...it's not that I willed myself to stay focused but, as Philipians says, peace came AFTER thanksgiving. Peace came. It does transcend my understanding. Not that MY actions conjured up unusual calm, but that because the day was filled with continual offerings of thanks, my heart was filled with gratitude and contentment in the Lord rather than ingratitude and discontent. In this way, though I felt the flickering flames of frustration start to burn me again and again, the wellspring of Life guarded my heart. Thankfulness made me more aware of the Lord's goodness and all-sufficient grace to me, in ALL things and, especially, in all the little valleys that are the pot-holes in my daily journey.
I know these verses well. I've read them before, because I am anxious ALL the time as I navigate these pot-holes. I feel it already this morning. The urge to rush, to stress...and so I try to pray, I want today what I had yesterday. But I usually gloss over the part about praying with thanksgiving. The arrow hits the mark. I pray, "Lord, help me to see your gifts to me again today. Again. Today. I want to be thankful, not ungrateful, for whatever you have ordained for me."
My hand accidentally brushes across the sensor pad and scrolls back a page. All my thoughts and petitions and thanks gone. No. No! Really? I go back. See an automatically-created draft. It is all there. Saved. I sigh. Thank you. It dawns on me...God receives my thanks even if all this were erased from record. Yes, that's true. I look over and see my toddler gleefully smearing dirt-encrusted shoes all over the ottoman. But I am thankful for the small gift that, for my benefit, it's not.
51) the warm, tear-wet nuzzle in my neck
52) the little hand, pressed flat to my side, as I cradle him close
53) the sweet post-nursing snuggle where time felt suspended, nothing as pressing or urgent as that moment
54) the glistening dew drops suspended in the grass
55) the entwined tree branches, woven dark against the canvas of the clear blue morning sky
54) the color red, that I love, deep and translucent and beautiful in the glass votives on my buffet
56) the encouragement of a dear friend, whose familiarity has weathered the passing of years
57) the wispy curls framing my daughter's face
58) the little feet, kicking the air, peeking up over the bumper's edge as I approach
59) the whistle that sounds from the train chugging along the track
60) the button nose, expertly placed between two chipmunk cheeks, so like mine
61) the notes of a beautiful melody
62) the happy smile on my daughter's face as she proudly helps make my bed, loudly huffing as she carries pillows larger than her little body and mimicking my hand movements as we tuck sheets into place
63) the way he sticks his little tongue out when he smiles, and I laugh with joy every time
64) the smile on my face when, silly that it is, she calls our dachshund "Muh-mut"
65) the crackling of sunlight on my wall, like a delicate white-light spiderweb, shining through the imperfections in our old window glass
66) the sweet, vibrant taste of a juiced orange
67) the health of my children
68) the iridescent bubbles clinging to my dish sink like the foam on distant shores
69) the flecks of red in the stubble on my husband's face
70) the way his arm wraps around me and holds me tight to his side
71) the strong hand that envelopes mine
72) the smell of my baby's head, there is nothing comparable
73) the big, mischievous grin on my son's face when he wants attention and knows he's going to get it
74) the news of potential financial savings on food staples
75) the hands of my daughter, clasped under her chin in prayer
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Day 2-One Day at a Time
Last night, as I thought over my day, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I felt none of the typical weariness and unease, none of the familiar frustration. It's not that there weren't plenty of those moments which regularly foster stress and discontent...it was still a gloomy day in which I cleaned up more accidents, did more dishes, dealt with a recurring headache, parented a cranky toddler, disciplined defiant children, cared for a husband who's not feeling well, refereed persistent bickering and waded through the ever-present MESS. But I actually enjoyed going through this day and purposefully picking out all the things I LIKED about it, the things I would normally take for granted. At the end of the day I felt...peaceful and content.
So, this morning, as I sat in the dark nursing the baby at an hour much earlier than I would have preferred, tired from a restless night's sleep and head still drumming with lingering aches, I asked myself, what am I thankful for about this moment?
I don't want to be so clinical about the process. It's not that I lack the personal determination. As a youngster, that was always a strong suit of mine. I have just found, over the years since becoming a wife and mother, that I often "determine" to submit things I would like to do to the priority of caring for my family. So some of those things that would have required lots of time and practice and perseverance have not yet come to be. I have not learned to crochet. I have not dug my paints out of their dusty art box. I did not refresh my memory of Russian or Sign Language. I have not become a good runner again, able to hold my own with my sisters. I have not completed the baby's handmade Christmas stocking...
If I am honest with myself, I fear if I am anything less than purposeful, this "list" will go the way of a whim as it succumbs to the busyness of my life...and to my inherently sinful and ungrateful nature. I know that if I truly want thankfulness to become habitual, I MUST be purposeful about it. I wonder if I am doing this on my strength alone, for in that I would surely fail. Is there danger of this becoming more about me than about finding daily joy in the Lord? I know my own heart too well. Can I therefore ask God to help me fulfill my duties well AND be thankful about and in them, even through the making of a simple list of blessings, NOT so that I may be gratified in my accomplishment but so that HE may be more glorified? Yes.
I sit propped up on pillows, the moonlight still peeping in from around our bedroom curtain, my husband tossing fitfully next to me, the neon numbers on the clock by my elbow slowly, slowly moving forward, my head pounding, pounding, and I stroke my sweet baby's head and snuggle him close. One day at a time. I can only take it one day at a time...
26) the little eyelids, closed in perfect contentment, as he draws out his morning milk
27) the convenience and immediacy of a medical consultation, only a phone call away
28) the scent I breathe deeply from the crook of my husband's neck as he hugs me good-bye
29) the sleepy cry my baby makes so that I know he is tired
30) the feel of warm, clean clothes on my face and arms, fresh from the dryer
31) the pleasure of making my husband a cup of hot chocolate to brighten his morning and coax his droopy eyes awake
32) the gladness that comes from offering encouragement to another and finding that it was timely
33) the white ruffles of peppermint whipped cream perched over my mug like a cloud, right before it melts into froth
34) the cool mountain air in the morning, brisk and invigorating
35) the humorous guttural hacking noise my son made when trying to "oink" like a piglet
36) the way his "moo" still sounds like "maaaaaawwwww"
37) the sound of my daughter's energetic humming of the epic Lord of the Rings' inspiring score
38) the sight of my daughter toddling around like a sumo wrestler in miniature
39) the good report of healing from the doctor
40) the subtle note of Black Cherry wafting from my fragrant tea
41) the sound of my daughter singing a hymn from Sunday's worship service
42) the steady formation of crisply-folded and neatly-ordered piles of clothes on the back of my couch
43) the soothing lilac hue of the walls in my daughters' room
44) the image in my rear-view mirror of my son folding paper into the form of an airplane and, in his little hands, taking it on a path of flight
45) the delighted giggles of my baby as he is being entertained by his older brother
46) the exuberance of my boys as they see something smashed
47) the huge grin on my daughter's face as she dances around in the little purple tutu hiked up past her waist
48) the unprompted "thank you" from my daughter's lips
49) the cheeks of my children, glowing pink, flushed with exertion and cold air and happiness
50) the Quiche, steaming and crusted over golden brown, for dinner
So, this morning, as I sat in the dark nursing the baby at an hour much earlier than I would have preferred, tired from a restless night's sleep and head still drumming with lingering aches, I asked myself, what am I thankful for about this moment?
I don't want to be so clinical about the process. It's not that I lack the personal determination. As a youngster, that was always a strong suit of mine. I have just found, over the years since becoming a wife and mother, that I often "determine" to submit things I would like to do to the priority of caring for my family. So some of those things that would have required lots of time and practice and perseverance have not yet come to be. I have not learned to crochet. I have not dug my paints out of their dusty art box. I did not refresh my memory of Russian or Sign Language. I have not become a good runner again, able to hold my own with my sisters. I have not completed the baby's handmade Christmas stocking...
If I am honest with myself, I fear if I am anything less than purposeful, this "list" will go the way of a whim as it succumbs to the busyness of my life...and to my inherently sinful and ungrateful nature. I know that if I truly want thankfulness to become habitual, I MUST be purposeful about it. I wonder if I am doing this on my strength alone, for in that I would surely fail. Is there danger of this becoming more about me than about finding daily joy in the Lord? I know my own heart too well. Can I therefore ask God to help me fulfill my duties well AND be thankful about and in them, even through the making of a simple list of blessings, NOT so that I may be gratified in my accomplishment but so that HE may be more glorified? Yes.
I sit propped up on pillows, the moonlight still peeping in from around our bedroom curtain, my husband tossing fitfully next to me, the neon numbers on the clock by my elbow slowly, slowly moving forward, my head pounding, pounding, and I stroke my sweet baby's head and snuggle him close. One day at a time. I can only take it one day at a time...
26) the little eyelids, closed in perfect contentment, as he draws out his morning milk
27) the convenience and immediacy of a medical consultation, only a phone call away
28) the scent I breathe deeply from the crook of my husband's neck as he hugs me good-bye
29) the sleepy cry my baby makes so that I know he is tired
30) the feel of warm, clean clothes on my face and arms, fresh from the dryer
31) the pleasure of making my husband a cup of hot chocolate to brighten his morning and coax his droopy eyes awake
32) the gladness that comes from offering encouragement to another and finding that it was timely
33) the white ruffles of peppermint whipped cream perched over my mug like a cloud, right before it melts into froth
34) the cool mountain air in the morning, brisk and invigorating
35) the humorous guttural hacking noise my son made when trying to "oink" like a piglet
36) the way his "moo" still sounds like "maaaaaawwwww"
37) the sound of my daughter's energetic humming of the epic Lord of the Rings' inspiring score
38) the sight of my daughter toddling around like a sumo wrestler in miniature
39) the good report of healing from the doctor
40) the subtle note of Black Cherry wafting from my fragrant tea
41) the sound of my daughter singing a hymn from Sunday's worship service
42) the steady formation of crisply-folded and neatly-ordered piles of clothes on the back of my couch
43) the soothing lilac hue of the walls in my daughters' room
44) the image in my rear-view mirror of my son folding paper into the form of an airplane and, in his little hands, taking it on a path of flight
45) the delighted giggles of my baby as he is being entertained by his older brother
46) the exuberance of my boys as they see something smashed
47) the huge grin on my daughter's face as she dances around in the little purple tutu hiked up past her waist
48) the unprompted "thank you" from my daughter's lips
49) the cheeks of my children, glowing pink, flushed with exertion and cold air and happiness
50) the Quiche, steaming and crusted over golden brown, for dinner
Monday, January 23, 2012
My List
I haven't blogged in a long time. In fact, I kind of gave up on it for a while. Admittedly, some things have changed in the months since my last post. I gave birth to our sixth child, a boy, who is now five months old. I took up drinking hot tea and love combing through the selections at the store for new and inviting flavors. Our commitments at church are increasing as we become even more involved. So, some things haven't changed. I'm busy. Always busy. I don't have time to blog. I don't really have many interesting or important things to share. Time for myself? I don't have. I don't have.
I've spent a lifetime playing that devastatingly deceptive mantra over and over in my head. I have always known it was, on the face of it, self-deprecating and superficial. What I did not think about, until recently, is the heart of it. Ingratitude.
I've been reading our latest book club selection "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. Reading is something I DO make time for, sparing though it may be and far less than what I crave. I'm not even halfway through this book, and it is in turns provoking, frustrating and illuminating. She ponders the disappointments of life and how she's dealt with it. A plain life. A life like mine. Raising children, day after day. Past hurts, losses, fears and bitterness. Present failures and lackings. Future...what? All too often characterized by ingratitude, which leads to more frustration and less peace, more disappointment and less contentment. Less joy.
Where does joy in the Lord really come from? She works through it. It's learned, Paul says. How is it learned? Thankfulness. How often am I really thankful? REALLY thankful. Intimately aware of the blessings of the Lord when it is so much easier, day in and day out, to dwell on the don't-haves. She takes up a challenge after ruminating over the Greek word "eucharisteo," which means "he gave thanks." Can she identify one thousand blessings? Actually make a list. One thousand "gifts" from the Lord. Things that she loves. Enjoys. Things that in going through the daily motions and busyness of life get blown over, dismissed. Unappreciated. Can making this list, intentionally recording the littlest of precious moments to the most wondrous, become an offering up of thanks that turns discontent into joy and, ultimately, a more trusting and humble and CLOSE walk with the Lord?
Can it? I wonder too. Can the daily and intentional offering of thanks in the simple act of making a list, a list of all the things and experiences God blesses me with, cultivate within me a new attitude regarding my life and the good AND hard things the Lord sees fit to bestow? One thousand, maybe more? I want to KNOW for myself that the Lord HAS blessed me beyond what I can even ask or imagine, I have just failed to acknowledge it, to acknowledge HIM in those things, so that in the mundane of my life and in the valleys of my life and at the end of my life, I might be found faithful...and thankful. I want to try it,to marvel at his goodness in MY life, in all things.
My own list of eucharisteo...
1) the desperate clinging of a baby who has cried for, wants and needs (miracle!) me
2) the frantic nuzzling of a famished baby
3) the smoothness of my made bed, unbroken yet welcoming, taut with invitation
4) the gentle music of the rain on my window, my house, my street
5) the fledgling expressions of my daughter
6) the son I longed to converse with, calling "Mommy, come, I'll show you..."
7) the long, lush perfectly placed eyelashes
8) the husband, sacrificing his time to bring our boys home every day
9) the vision of my one year old and three year old working together, and well, on a puzzle
10) the enveloping heat from the grate, warming me all over
11) the wood floors, cracked with age, worn with our feet and our toils and those here before us
12) the sweet, plumped, flushed cheeks of my baby boy after his tummy has been filled up
13) the ever-thickening crown of dark golden hair, uniquely placed, on his little head
14) the way my delighted daughter christens cows "Moo-Moos"
15) the little lips that oblige me when I ask for a kiss
16) the unrestrained child laughter at some secret comical thing
17) the mug of hot cocoa that warms my hands and insides with smooth rich chocolate goodness
18) the happy smile that blooms on my baby's face as the light of recognition fills his eyes
19) the buttery, earthy taste of the peanut
20) the idiosyncrasy of a dark gray-skied horizon that still streams sunlight through the tree outside my window
21) the lisped prayers of blessing at mealtime
22) the stars twinkling in the blackened expanse above
23) the satisfaction of celebrating a child's hard-earned success
24) the singing of hushed lullabies
25) the irresistibly lovely coos and giggles of a baby playing
I've spent a lifetime playing that devastatingly deceptive mantra over and over in my head. I have always known it was, on the face of it, self-deprecating and superficial. What I did not think about, until recently, is the heart of it. Ingratitude.
I've been reading our latest book club selection "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. Reading is something I DO make time for, sparing though it may be and far less than what I crave. I'm not even halfway through this book, and it is in turns provoking, frustrating and illuminating. She ponders the disappointments of life and how she's dealt with it. A plain life. A life like mine. Raising children, day after day. Past hurts, losses, fears and bitterness. Present failures and lackings. Future...what? All too often characterized by ingratitude, which leads to more frustration and less peace, more disappointment and less contentment. Less joy.
Where does joy in the Lord really come from? She works through it. It's learned, Paul says. How is it learned? Thankfulness. How often am I really thankful? REALLY thankful. Intimately aware of the blessings of the Lord when it is so much easier, day in and day out, to dwell on the don't-haves. She takes up a challenge after ruminating over the Greek word "eucharisteo," which means "he gave thanks." Can she identify one thousand blessings? Actually make a list. One thousand "gifts" from the Lord. Things that she loves. Enjoys. Things that in going through the daily motions and busyness of life get blown over, dismissed. Unappreciated. Can making this list, intentionally recording the littlest of precious moments to the most wondrous, become an offering up of thanks that turns discontent into joy and, ultimately, a more trusting and humble and CLOSE walk with the Lord?
Can it? I wonder too. Can the daily and intentional offering of thanks in the simple act of making a list, a list of all the things and experiences God blesses me with, cultivate within me a new attitude regarding my life and the good AND hard things the Lord sees fit to bestow? One thousand, maybe more? I want to KNOW for myself that the Lord HAS blessed me beyond what I can even ask or imagine, I have just failed to acknowledge it, to acknowledge HIM in those things, so that in the mundane of my life and in the valleys of my life and at the end of my life, I might be found faithful...and thankful. I want to try it,to marvel at his goodness in MY life, in all things.
My own list of eucharisteo...
1) the desperate clinging of a baby who has cried for, wants and needs (miracle!) me
2) the frantic nuzzling of a famished baby
3) the smoothness of my made bed, unbroken yet welcoming, taut with invitation
4) the gentle music of the rain on my window, my house, my street
5) the fledgling expressions of my daughter
6) the son I longed to converse with, calling "Mommy, come, I'll show you..."
7) the long, lush perfectly placed eyelashes
8) the husband, sacrificing his time to bring our boys home every day
9) the vision of my one year old and three year old working together, and well, on a puzzle
10) the enveloping heat from the grate, warming me all over
11) the wood floors, cracked with age, worn with our feet and our toils and those here before us
12) the sweet, plumped, flushed cheeks of my baby boy after his tummy has been filled up
13) the ever-thickening crown of dark golden hair, uniquely placed, on his little head
14) the way my delighted daughter christens cows "Moo-Moos"
15) the little lips that oblige me when I ask for a kiss
16) the unrestrained child laughter at some secret comical thing
17) the mug of hot cocoa that warms my hands and insides with smooth rich chocolate goodness
18) the happy smile that blooms on my baby's face as the light of recognition fills his eyes
19) the buttery, earthy taste of the peanut
20) the idiosyncrasy of a dark gray-skied horizon that still streams sunlight through the tree outside my window
21) the lisped prayers of blessing at mealtime
22) the stars twinkling in the blackened expanse above
23) the satisfaction of celebrating a child's hard-earned success
24) the singing of hushed lullabies
25) the irresistibly lovely coos and giggles of a baby playing
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Guilt-Free Parenting?
A friend of mine recently wrote a blog about Mom-guilt. She was right on the money, and it got me thinking. Why is it that no matter how hard we try, we're still plagued with it?
Now, I'm not riddled with it over EVERY aspect of parenting. I'm learning to let go of some things, like the fact that I cannot control the decisions my children make in spite of making every effort to discipline consistently, calmly and with Bible-based follow-up discussion. Of course, let me clarify, that is my goal. It does NOT always happen that way. I find myself, more often than I care to admit, raising my voice when they aren't listening, disciplining in the midst of frustration rather than with patience and skipping the Biblical application portion altogether because someone peed on the floor or I'm needed to intervene in another crisis elsewhere in the household. Believe me, at the end of the day, I often experience plenty of guilt over what I consider my failures as a mother. It doesn't help when, in moments of honesty, I let it slip to someone without children or to someone who has one young child (not old enough to rebel, talk back or throw fits) that I raised my voice at my kids recently, and I get a look of almost stiff politeness, but not understanding. Certainly, I never thought I would struggle with these things before I had kids. Then I had them, and the sinful inclinations in my heart have more than enough opportunities to spill out into my every day life. I guess you could say it keeps me humble.
This is what I mean when I say, at least, in this one area, I'm growing. Meaning, I've come to accept that God's mercies ARE new every morning and that His plan for my children does not hinge upon acts of perfection or failures on my part. I am very thankful for the Holy Spirit's working on my heart to help me give over the really significant parts of my children's upbringing to God. Of course, I still need to make every effort to pray for them, give Biblical instruction and discipline well. I'm part of the plan for their lives, definitely, but while His purposes for them include me, I know they cannot be thwarted by me. That's good to hang on to! Because, when I fail, I know God is still sovereign and in control, and He is certainly not surprised by anything I'm going to pull out during the day. It all goes toward humbling me and increasing my dependence on Him and, in some way, building the character of my children. (And, hopefully, all the times I feel like I fail are not nearly as forefront in their thoughts as they are in mine!) Keeping these things in mind helps me feel a little less guilty and little more like a Mom just humbly working through the sanctification process while also striving to love, nurture and teach her kids well.
Improvements there. But, there are some other areas where fresh guilt has reared it's ugly head these days. It's always about petty things too, far less significant than the larger issue of discipline and Biblical teaching. So why do they FEEL so big?
1) Homeschooling. This is a sensitive subject for some, and I offer no judgements whatsoever on those who choose to do it and can do it well. I think it's highly admirable and produces some very well-educated and disciplined teenagers! But, I always feel like I OUGHT to be willing and able to do it, and the fact that I don't (or can't), has always frustrated me. Especially since, for some reason, whenever people find out I have five (almost six) children, they automatically assume I must be a home-schooler! Then, when I politely set them straight, they seem surprised. Why? So then I feel compelled, almost desperate, to justify myself. You have to understand, I say, I have five children ages seven and younger. As close in age as they are, it would be very difficult for me to give everyone the adequate time and attention they need in order to give them the best that they deserve in an education. My academic abilities notwithstanding, I can't change those logistics. Case in point, today I spent two hours trying to get my six year old to write the numbers 1-10 correctly and read ONE book. Two hours! During which time, I could only partially supervise and attend to all the others well. Now half the morning is gone, and I'm left feeling flustered, the house is a mess and the kids are whiny and clamoring for attention. Still, even though I know it's not for us, I come away from those conversations feeling sadly lacking. In my head, I imagine they are thinking, if you REALLY wanted to do it, you would. If you only had more patience, made more of an effort, had better planning skills...yada yada yada. It's not THEIR fault. I feel guilty regardless of what's said, which is usually very agreeable. So why the guilt!!??
2) Organic Food/Meals. My blogger friend mentioned this one, and I was surprised to realize that I DO worry about this! I feel bad whenever I read my friends' posts about all the amazing fresh foods they've discovered at hole-in-the-wall places and the uber-healthy gourmet meals they've whipped up with them. I'd love to say that I bought all organic fruits, vegetables, meat and milk. But, let's be honest, it's expensive. I have a family of seven to feed on a strict grocery budget, and buying organic is just something we sacrifice the majority of the time. I used to assuage my guilt by at least buying organic milk, but we now drink three, sometimes more, gallons of milk a week, and a gallon of milk has shot over $3! That's a lot of moolah to shell out for something that's not even a solid food guaranteed to fill up lots of little tummies 3-5 times a day! Then there are meals in general. For every dinner of frozen chicken nuggets, grilled cheese, pancakes or hot dogs, I feel like I have to balance it with an offering of roast turkey, spaghetti or beef BBQ another day. The reality is, food is not cheap, but sometimes cheap is necessary. So I try to work within our constraints to make food that's healthy and affordable...and at least offer lots of fruits and vegetables from our garden on the side to supplement. Doing the best I can, but why do I still feel guilty?!
3) TV time. We don't have cable. In fact, we don't get any television stations. At all. We basically have a TV plugged into an outlet so that we can view selections from our movie collection when we want. So, I really shouldn't feel guilty about this, right? My kids don't spend mindless hours watching cartoons every day, and my husband and I don't spend hours every night watching sitcoms and reality shows instead of spending time with each other. Yes, I have to admit, this summer I've really needed the TV time I DO allow. I give the excuse that I'm pregnant. It takes SO much more energy and time to accomplish all the normal things. Plus, I have all the kids home from school and, to be honest, I really NEED an hour or so every day where they are all quiet and occupied and I can check off my to-do list for the afternoon. So, at the beginning of the summer, we watched maybe one 75-minute movie every other day. The last few weeks (I AM in the third trimester here) I've digressed to allowing one 75-to 90-minute movie every day during the baby's nap. During this time I do dishes without someone pulling my pants off, fold clothes without constant interruptions and exercise without breaking up fights every other set. It's been super helpful! But I STILL feel guilty, like I should either put up with the interruptions like a gracious June Cleaver or like I am in some way lacking as a mom in general, because I know it is highly unlikely that I could send five children to the playroom for a half hour and expect that my attentions won't be needed. Well, something's gotta give. In this case, I've opted for preserving my energy and sanity, and I'm NOT going to let myself feel TOO guilty about that!
Anyway, I could probably go on and on, but those are the main things occupying my thoughts at present. I can safely say, though, that I will happily have myself some Ben & Jerry's ice cream this evening without a single ounce of guilt, something that would have been nearly impossible for me once upon a time. Yay, for progress of any kind!
Now, I'm not riddled with it over EVERY aspect of parenting. I'm learning to let go of some things, like the fact that I cannot control the decisions my children make in spite of making every effort to discipline consistently, calmly and with Bible-based follow-up discussion. Of course, let me clarify, that is my goal. It does NOT always happen that way. I find myself, more often than I care to admit, raising my voice when they aren't listening, disciplining in the midst of frustration rather than with patience and skipping the Biblical application portion altogether because someone peed on the floor or I'm needed to intervene in another crisis elsewhere in the household. Believe me, at the end of the day, I often experience plenty of guilt over what I consider my failures as a mother. It doesn't help when, in moments of honesty, I let it slip to someone without children or to someone who has one young child (not old enough to rebel, talk back or throw fits) that I raised my voice at my kids recently, and I get a look of almost stiff politeness, but not understanding. Certainly, I never thought I would struggle with these things before I had kids. Then I had them, and the sinful inclinations in my heart have more than enough opportunities to spill out into my every day life. I guess you could say it keeps me humble.
This is what I mean when I say, at least, in this one area, I'm growing. Meaning, I've come to accept that God's mercies ARE new every morning and that His plan for my children does not hinge upon acts of perfection or failures on my part. I am very thankful for the Holy Spirit's working on my heart to help me give over the really significant parts of my children's upbringing to God. Of course, I still need to make every effort to pray for them, give Biblical instruction and discipline well. I'm part of the plan for their lives, definitely, but while His purposes for them include me, I know they cannot be thwarted by me. That's good to hang on to! Because, when I fail, I know God is still sovereign and in control, and He is certainly not surprised by anything I'm going to pull out during the day. It all goes toward humbling me and increasing my dependence on Him and, in some way, building the character of my children. (And, hopefully, all the times I feel like I fail are not nearly as forefront in their thoughts as they are in mine!) Keeping these things in mind helps me feel a little less guilty and little more like a Mom just humbly working through the sanctification process while also striving to love, nurture and teach her kids well.
Improvements there. But, there are some other areas where fresh guilt has reared it's ugly head these days. It's always about petty things too, far less significant than the larger issue of discipline and Biblical teaching. So why do they FEEL so big?
1) Homeschooling. This is a sensitive subject for some, and I offer no judgements whatsoever on those who choose to do it and can do it well. I think it's highly admirable and produces some very well-educated and disciplined teenagers! But, I always feel like I OUGHT to be willing and able to do it, and the fact that I don't (or can't), has always frustrated me. Especially since, for some reason, whenever people find out I have five (almost six) children, they automatically assume I must be a home-schooler! Then, when I politely set them straight, they seem surprised. Why? So then I feel compelled, almost desperate, to justify myself. You have to understand, I say, I have five children ages seven and younger. As close in age as they are, it would be very difficult for me to give everyone the adequate time and attention they need in order to give them the best that they deserve in an education. My academic abilities notwithstanding, I can't change those logistics. Case in point, today I spent two hours trying to get my six year old to write the numbers 1-10 correctly and read ONE book. Two hours! During which time, I could only partially supervise and attend to all the others well. Now half the morning is gone, and I'm left feeling flustered, the house is a mess and the kids are whiny and clamoring for attention. Still, even though I know it's not for us, I come away from those conversations feeling sadly lacking. In my head, I imagine they are thinking, if you REALLY wanted to do it, you would. If you only had more patience, made more of an effort, had better planning skills...yada yada yada. It's not THEIR fault. I feel guilty regardless of what's said, which is usually very agreeable. So why the guilt!!??
2) Organic Food/Meals. My blogger friend mentioned this one, and I was surprised to realize that I DO worry about this! I feel bad whenever I read my friends' posts about all the amazing fresh foods they've discovered at hole-in-the-wall places and the uber-healthy gourmet meals they've whipped up with them. I'd love to say that I bought all organic fruits, vegetables, meat and milk. But, let's be honest, it's expensive. I have a family of seven to feed on a strict grocery budget, and buying organic is just something we sacrifice the majority of the time. I used to assuage my guilt by at least buying organic milk, but we now drink three, sometimes more, gallons of milk a week, and a gallon of milk has shot over $3! That's a lot of moolah to shell out for something that's not even a solid food guaranteed to fill up lots of little tummies 3-5 times a day! Then there are meals in general. For every dinner of frozen chicken nuggets, grilled cheese, pancakes or hot dogs, I feel like I have to balance it with an offering of roast turkey, spaghetti or beef BBQ another day. The reality is, food is not cheap, but sometimes cheap is necessary. So I try to work within our constraints to make food that's healthy and affordable...and at least offer lots of fruits and vegetables from our garden on the side to supplement. Doing the best I can, but why do I still feel guilty?!
3) TV time. We don't have cable. In fact, we don't get any television stations. At all. We basically have a TV plugged into an outlet so that we can view selections from our movie collection when we want. So, I really shouldn't feel guilty about this, right? My kids don't spend mindless hours watching cartoons every day, and my husband and I don't spend hours every night watching sitcoms and reality shows instead of spending time with each other. Yes, I have to admit, this summer I've really needed the TV time I DO allow. I give the excuse that I'm pregnant. It takes SO much more energy and time to accomplish all the normal things. Plus, I have all the kids home from school and, to be honest, I really NEED an hour or so every day where they are all quiet and occupied and I can check off my to-do list for the afternoon. So, at the beginning of the summer, we watched maybe one 75-minute movie every other day. The last few weeks (I AM in the third trimester here) I've digressed to allowing one 75-to 90-minute movie every day during the baby's nap. During this time I do dishes without someone pulling my pants off, fold clothes without constant interruptions and exercise without breaking up fights every other set. It's been super helpful! But I STILL feel guilty, like I should either put up with the interruptions like a gracious June Cleaver or like I am in some way lacking as a mom in general, because I know it is highly unlikely that I could send five children to the playroom for a half hour and expect that my attentions won't be needed. Well, something's gotta give. In this case, I've opted for preserving my energy and sanity, and I'm NOT going to let myself feel TOO guilty about that!
Anyway, I could probably go on and on, but those are the main things occupying my thoughts at present. I can safely say, though, that I will happily have myself some Ben & Jerry's ice cream this evening without a single ounce of guilt, something that would have been nearly impossible for me once upon a time. Yay, for progress of any kind!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
The Great Outdoors
When I was a kid, being outside was an adventure and, in spite of being a girl, I didn't mind getting dirty to have one. I can remember making mud pies in our backyard and arranging them, just so, on the big green electricity box in the back yard. The metal got so hot it would bake the mud in an afternoon. I remember low-crawling through piles of leaves and drawing up imaginary treasure maps leading all around our yard. When I got older, I wasn't that much different. Soccer games played in the rain and the mud were the most fun, in my opinion, and, although Mike loves to tease me now, I loved our camping trips with family friends. Everyone had kids around the same age, and we spent hours hiking or playing soccer or football in the adjoining fields to our sites. At night we sat around the campfire playing cards, and I can't remember ever noticing bugs or dirt or the like...
Now, I'm an adult, and my husband gives me a patronizing sort of smile whenever I insist these tidbits of my younger days actually occurred. I guess I can't blame him for his skepticism. But, here's the thing, now when I go out in the heat and dirt and bug-infested grass, I'm not playing with the freedom and abandon of youth, I'm supervising. Supervising doesn't involve much running around. In fact, it involves a lot of slowly circling the property being always prepared to step in as a referee or medic or whatever the situation calls for. These days, being fairly pregnant, I do more sedentary observing, which means, rather than enjoying the breeze or the sunny day, I'm usually in one place, painfully aware of the heat and the swarms of gnats engulfing me. You never notice when you're running around having an adventure. When you're just sitting there...waiting for the plague of insects to attack, it's not.
Nevertheless, I went outside yesterday to keep an eye on the kids. Not necessarily because I was looking forward to leaving the indoors, but because I'd finished the majority of tasks and chores that would make for a good excuse to avoid going. I sat on one of our big tree stumps, very conscious of the ants that were inexplicably attracted to me, and watched my boys gleefully digging a huge hole in the dirt. They had dirt everywhere and yet were completely unaware. Keller scooped up a huge shovelful of dirt and actually dumped it over his head. Not only was there a visibly heavy layer of soil coating his hair, it was lodged in his ears. He was grinning obliviously. I have NO idea why. My youngest, Kennedy, kept sneaking off to our blackberry bush around the side of the house. She's already knowledgeable about which juicy fruits are ripe for picking, and she helped herself whenever she thought she could beat me there. (My mother asked me later if I washed the ones she picked. I just laughed to myself. As if I had the time to clean them before she expertly plucked them and popped them quickly into her little mouth!) To top it off, I caught her scooping yucky rain water out of the back of a very dirty dump truck. I'm sure it was quite refreshing. Still, I dumped it out after that. Just couldn't bring myself to let that continue, whether it bothered her or not.
But they all had a fantastic time. They were completely unaware of the dirt and the heat and the bugs and all the things I tried so hard, and failed miserably, to ignore. I was happy for them though. Having their own messy adventures in our "great outdoors" of a backyard. Even as I inwardly lamented over the logistically difficult task of getting five dirty children bathed with only one bathroom, I did remember with satisfaction, and a little longing, all those carefree days when I once felt exactly the same way. And who knows, maybe one day not too long from now, when I'm no longer greatly pregnant and all my children have reach an age of moderate self-sufficiency, I will find myself falling in with the hikes and joining in the games of tag and soccer and treasure hunting once more...and enjoying it!
Now, I'm an adult, and my husband gives me a patronizing sort of smile whenever I insist these tidbits of my younger days actually occurred. I guess I can't blame him for his skepticism. But, here's the thing, now when I go out in the heat and dirt and bug-infested grass, I'm not playing with the freedom and abandon of youth, I'm supervising. Supervising doesn't involve much running around. In fact, it involves a lot of slowly circling the property being always prepared to step in as a referee or medic or whatever the situation calls for. These days, being fairly pregnant, I do more sedentary observing, which means, rather than enjoying the breeze or the sunny day, I'm usually in one place, painfully aware of the heat and the swarms of gnats engulfing me. You never notice when you're running around having an adventure. When you're just sitting there...waiting for the plague of insects to attack, it's not.
Nevertheless, I went outside yesterday to keep an eye on the kids. Not necessarily because I was looking forward to leaving the indoors, but because I'd finished the majority of tasks and chores that would make for a good excuse to avoid going. I sat on one of our big tree stumps, very conscious of the ants that were inexplicably attracted to me, and watched my boys gleefully digging a huge hole in the dirt. They had dirt everywhere and yet were completely unaware. Keller scooped up a huge shovelful of dirt and actually dumped it over his head. Not only was there a visibly heavy layer of soil coating his hair, it was lodged in his ears. He was grinning obliviously. I have NO idea why. My youngest, Kennedy, kept sneaking off to our blackberry bush around the side of the house. She's already knowledgeable about which juicy fruits are ripe for picking, and she helped herself whenever she thought she could beat me there. (My mother asked me later if I washed the ones she picked. I just laughed to myself. As if I had the time to clean them before she expertly plucked them and popped them quickly into her little mouth!) To top it off, I caught her scooping yucky rain water out of the back of a very dirty dump truck. I'm sure it was quite refreshing. Still, I dumped it out after that. Just couldn't bring myself to let that continue, whether it bothered her or not.
But they all had a fantastic time. They were completely unaware of the dirt and the heat and the bugs and all the things I tried so hard, and failed miserably, to ignore. I was happy for them though. Having their own messy adventures in our "great outdoors" of a backyard. Even as I inwardly lamented over the logistically difficult task of getting five dirty children bathed with only one bathroom, I did remember with satisfaction, and a little longing, all those carefree days when I once felt exactly the same way. And who knows, maybe one day not too long from now, when I'm no longer greatly pregnant and all my children have reach an age of moderate self-sufficiency, I will find myself falling in with the hikes and joining in the games of tag and soccer and treasure hunting once more...and enjoying it!
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