I got all my babies back tonight, after a whole weekend - Friday morning till late Sunday afternoon - of just me and my Farmer. I feel a little yanked around inside....
It was so good to see them, Lil' Snip of course, grew taller and cannier in his lengthy absence (Grandma reports that he knows some new words!). Sugar was eager to go out and ride her bike, Spice wanted to see how the youngest litter of kittens survived the storm (they were just fine), and Everything Nice confided in me that she had hopped a lot at Grandma and Grandpa's house. She also said she felt like hopping right now - and singing!! Did I think that would be okay?! I assured her that I would love for her to hop and sing, just as soon as I finished fixing her ponytails.
And then my Farmer put Lil' Snip to bed and took his daughters to hear a musical family perform at our church. And I am again without my babies.
I want to cry. (maybe I will - after all, they're gone and no one will be the wiser....)
We had a fabulous weekend, my Farmer and I. We slept in. We ate according to our hunger rather than the clock. We ran errands without watching the time to be sure we'd be home "in time." We listened to silence. We listened to music! We talked without interruptions. We watched movies (two!!). We stayed up late - and talked in audible voices while getting ready for bed, just because we could! We napped in the hammock (the birds cooperated nicely). We visited a different church. We walked around my Farmer's farm, hand in hand, admiring the harvests to come, and picked berries (and swatted at gnats...).
I can't honestly say I missed my children while they were gone. I thought about them a bit, especially at bedtime. I worried about them (briefly - I'm getting better about that), but it was nice to have a break from being Mommy & Daddy, nice to rediscover our Husband & Wife selves.
They're gone ... they're back ... they're gone .....
Someone said that to be a mother is to have your heart divided into pieces and watch them walking around outside of your body. I miss my pieces now.
Superwoman blasphemy
I was reading a great parenting book (well, “great” in that I learned some new tricks, not “great” in that I agreed with everything I read) by John Rosemond called Parent Power. Along with stage-by-stage general advice and some spot-on reminders of what life looks like from three feet tall, he addresses various “reader questions.” One of these is from a mom driving herself crazy worrying about a schooling decision for her four children. In his answer, he never actually addresses the schooling question, but he tells her that she has given herself the assignment of “Perfect Mom” and that that approaches blasphemy.
His statement jolted me. I thought we moms were supposed to aim for perfection – especially in anything having to do with our children!! I mean, I know, I know – “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23) - but c'mon, how about “Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48)?!
Hmmm..... so I've been chewing on that......and wondering how pervasive that "Perfect Mom" syndrome is in other areas of my life ….. say, blogging.....
I started my life: in short because I enjoy having a written record of my life (and, honestly, because so many of my facebook statuses exceed the 420-character limit). But after a few entries, I stop. Why?
It wasn't for a lack of ideas.
It was for a lack of polished ideas. I would have been okay writing daily to the faceless void of the internet whatever popped into my head …. except that I went and checked to see if anyone was reading it – and you were!! Scared, I popped back into my hole and only peeped out to check if the interest had died down yet.
In the meantime, I read Mike Yaconelli's book, Dangerous Wonder, and started on Brennan Manning's book, The Ragamuffin Gospel. Safety, both these men claim, is over-rated. Dare, they urge. Risk. Jump! God loves you. He's got your back.
So I'm jumping.
Big deal, you say. It's just a blog. Everyone blogs. Well, okay. So my neuroses are as unique as the rest of me. I'm still having problems writing, knowing that people who know me might read it. (My husband, Farmer in the Dell, I think I'll call him, would tell me “simple – stop checking the stats page to see if anyone has read it.” Life is easy like that when you're my husband.)
Alright, catharsis finished for today. Off to check if the sheets on the line are dry, drop off a pack of night-time diapers for my son, Li'l Snip (who, with my three daughters, Sugar, Spice, & Everything Nice, is staying with my excellent in-laws this weekend!), and see if the discount grocery store has any dark chocolate to go with the surf-n-turf I promised my Farmer tonight. Anyone want to advise this chicken how to cook steak? (and no, we don't grill)..
whistle, don't crawl
(from More Little Visits With God by Allan Hart Jahsmann and Martin P. Simon, ©1961)
The weather was very cold, and the ice on the river was frozen clear down to the bottom. A man came walking down to the river. He wanted to cross where there was no bridge. “I wonder if this ice will hold me?” he said.
For a long time he looked at it and thought it would, but he wasn't sure. Then he said to himself, “If I crawl over, it won't break so easily.” So he crawled over the ice on his stomach. The ice held him, but he was worried all the while.
On the other side the man saw a big truck coming down to the river. Without stopping, the truck drove on the ice and over the river. In the truck was a little boy riding along with his father. The boy never worried a bit that the ice would break. He was whistling a happy song all the while.
Which one was safer on the ice, the happy little boy or the scared little man? They were both safe. But there was a great difference between them. The boy who trusted his father was safe and happy. The man who did not trust the ice was safe but worried.
Some Christians are like the boy; others are like the man. Some trust that God will bring them across the way to heaven. They are happy with God and do not worry. Others are worried that they will lose their faith or that their faith isn't strong enough. So they crawl when they could ride and whistle.
You have Jesus, your Savior, with you every day. So trust Him. Be happy. Don't worry. Don't crawl. Ask Him to take care of you on your way to heaven. Then trust Him to get you there safely.
The Bible says, “You are kept by the power of God.” So do what the psalm writer said, “Trust in the Lord.” Then you'll feel like whistling.
Are you the scared little man or the happy little boy? I would love to say that I'm the happy, trusting little boy. But it would be a bald-faced lie. I am the scared little man in that story, no contest.
Jesus tells me in the Bible not to worry (Matthew 6). I want to intellectualize this and write about how to trust God, what steps to take, what formula to follow, and so on and on ad nauseum. Know why? Because I am a procrastinator. As long as I am talking about “how”, I don't have to actually do it, do I.
Trust is not a 12-step program. That would be a nice, gradual thing. Unfortunately, trust is just action. I don't get to first “feel” trust and then wait for an opportunity to act it out. Nope, trust happens in the very acting.
If I'm stuck on a ledge and my husband offers to catch me and I trust him, I'll jump. I can't trust him and stay on the ledge. This has some very scary implications for my Christian life.
I'd have to give up worry.
Oh, no biggie, right? I mean, who likes to worry? Ummmmm …. a lot of us, I think. But speaking just for me, I can make myself about sick worrying over my children, but the thought of not worrying makes me feel …. guilty. As if my worry were proof of my love ….
And what about finances? What responsible, spiritually mature person doesn't worry about their finances? Naturally we call it “planning” or “budgeting” or something else …. but can you plan for the “what-ifs” of the future without any worrying? Really?
Then there's knowing God's will for my life – you know, all the lifestyle choices from career or family size to tonight's supper menu and tomorrow's social calendar. Does God want me to eat only organic vegetables and whole grains or is it okay to serve frozen pizza and french fries? Does God want me to homeschool my children or should I send them to the local school? Does God want me to serve in the positions at church that I am asked to do or does he want me to say “no” to them and dedicate myself to prayer? Just in case I run out of things to worry about for my children or our finances, I can always worry about whether or not I'm hearing God's will correctly.
This is starting to sound ridiculous, even to me.
But it's my reality. I'm the scared little man, crawling on my stomach over the ice, wondering whether it will hold me or crack and plunge me to a frozen, suffocating death.
What would it be like to whistle on the seat beside my Father, trusting Him to carry me where I need to go? It feels a little irresponsible ..... a little child-like ….
What would it look like for me? What would I do differently in a life of trust?
Eat inorganically. Send my children to school. Read novels instead of nonfiction. Lie in the hammock instead of searching the online parenting forum for ideas and solutions. Invite friends over even though their kids might wreck my house and lose pieces to my children's toys. Work in my flowerbeds regardless of the pollen count. Give up on being thin, fit, and fashionable. Play. Laugh. Love. Dare.
What would trust look like for you?
Psalm 91
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”
Surely He will save you from the fowler's snare
and from deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with His feathers,
and under His wings you will find refuge;
His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.
If you make the Most High your dwelling –
even the Lord, who is my refuge –
then no harm will befall you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
For He will command His angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread upon the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpant.
“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him.
I will protect him, for he acknowledges My Name.
He will call upon Me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
With long life will I satisfy him
and show him my salvation.”
the sun cure
I just spent the better part of an hour in my husband's greenhouse.
Hit by the heat (it was 105 degrees Fahrenheit), I opened the jaw of the vent wider. I watered the lettuces and the children's hopeful log-lined garden plots, twice. I hooked the water wand over the hydrant, ready for next time. And then, I sat on the permanently reclining green chair at the back and just basked in the sun.
When I opened the door to leave, thinking it had been only a few minutes, the temperature dropped about 20 degrees in the open air. Everything looked a bit dim. Two mourning doves took flight. Tiny little blue flowers in the grass shivered under a honeybee's attentions. A squirrel scampered off, interrupted. I had to reorient myself, like coming home from vacation.
On the way back to the house, I took off my flipflops and walked barefoot on the grass.
My husband (let's see, what shall I call him on this blog.....?) has, for the last two months, regularly recommended this treatment - greenhouse time. Somehow, though, once the children are all separated for quiet time, the allure of a snack and a good book drives all thoughts of the outdoors from my mind. I just want to shut down, as quickly as possible, for my own little quiet time.
He was right, though (as he very often is). There is something very physically relaxing about green things and Extreme Sun (it was down to about 90 when I left). It's as if my very pores are hit with tranquilizers, and the effect lingers.
So I spent my time lying in the sun instead of catching up on email or starting supper or crossing something off my to-do list. My chores all still here, none the worse for the wait.
And even away from the sun, my skin still tingles.
Hit by the heat (it was 105 degrees Fahrenheit), I opened the jaw of the vent wider. I watered the lettuces and the children's hopeful log-lined garden plots, twice. I hooked the water wand over the hydrant, ready for next time. And then, I sat on the permanently reclining green chair at the back and just basked in the sun.
When I opened the door to leave, thinking it had been only a few minutes, the temperature dropped about 20 degrees in the open air. Everything looked a bit dim. Two mourning doves took flight. Tiny little blue flowers in the grass shivered under a honeybee's attentions. A squirrel scampered off, interrupted. I had to reorient myself, like coming home from vacation.
On the way back to the house, I took off my flipflops and walked barefoot on the grass.
He was right, though (as he very often is). There is something very physically relaxing about green things and Extreme Sun (it was down to about 90 when I left). It's as if my very pores are hit with tranquilizers, and the effect lingers.
So I spent my time lying in the sun instead of catching up on email or starting supper or crossing something off my to-do list. My chores all still here, none the worse for the wait.
And even away from the sun, my skin still tingles.
a "wasted" day
Today is Saturday.
Usually, by Friday afternoon, at least, we (I) plan our Saturdays to maximize our time together (i.e. "our joint ability to get a lot of chores done").
This week I am too pooped to muster thoughts of efficiency. This week, we watched a movie on tv Friday night. It had absolutely no literary merit and was not otherwise lofty in any way. (If you must know, it starred Steve Martin and John Candy). We stayed up late and laughed ourselves silly.
And then ....
....we slept in. Until the sun and the children woke us up. It was lovely. And even more lovely was having absolutely no plans for the day. It felt deliciously decadent to know that we could watch tv all day if we wanted to (that would be a shocking first for us, but it felt like a real possibility).
Mid-morning, I found myself posting on facebook that I was "doing nothing", and realized that I had in fact already fed the baby breakfast, started a load of laundry, cleaned the bathroom, bathed one daughter and showered myself.
Huh. But it did feel like "nothing", somehow.
Later, after watching a Chinese language dvd with the girls and helping Sugar and Spice make lunch (which they usually do by themselves while Nice sets the table), I folded laundry, took a quick nap, read an extra chapter to Sugar and Spice from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (while advising Nice to keep Lil' Snips away from various enticing household dangers), and then decided to bake cookies.
And it still felt like "nothing."
I spooned lumps of cookie dough onto the trays, mulling over this anomaly: I was doing as much as, or more than, I would have on a day powered by a to-do list, and yet .... I felt relaxed, carefree. Was it the extra sleep? Having "backup" (as husbands who work away are gratefully but inadequately called when they are home)?
Both sleep and the presence of my stalwart husband help, of course. But I feel as if I have discovered something alluringly simple. Today I was focused on enjoying the day, relaxing, just being with my family. My intention was to deliberately "waste" my day.
Instead, serendipity happened: I was productive with my time. And, miracle of miracles, I enjoyed it along the way.
I wasn't hurrying. I didn't push children out of my way (*blush* as is my custom at times). I didn't say "not now" when Nice longingly admired the pictures in one of Lil' Snip's books. Instead, I stopped what I was doing and read her the story - right then! (that only deserves an exclamation point, I'm embarrassed to tell you, because it is so highly unusual for me). I didn't fret about time & schedules - in fact, we ate lunch early because .... we were hungry early.
I would like to say that this has been an epiphany and hereafter I will run my household with a lighter touch, but I don't suppose there will actually be an overnight transformation. It does give me a faint sort of hope, though, for a different reality. Could life be like that - always?
Or is that what heaven is for?
I will be grateful for the gift of a happily "wasted" day. Now if you will excuse me, I need to go eat a cookie with my daughters....
Usually, by Friday afternoon, at least, we (I) plan our Saturdays to maximize our time together (i.e. "our joint ability to get a lot of chores done").
This week I am too pooped to muster thoughts of efficiency. This week, we watched a movie on tv Friday night. It had absolutely no literary merit and was not otherwise lofty in any way. (If you must know, it starred Steve Martin and John Candy). We stayed up late and laughed ourselves silly.
And then ....
....we slept in. Until the sun and the children woke us up. It was lovely. And even more lovely was having absolutely no plans for the day. It felt deliciously decadent to know that we could watch tv all day if we wanted to (that would be a shocking first for us, but it felt like a real possibility).
Mid-morning, I found myself posting on facebook that I was "doing nothing", and realized that I had in fact already fed the baby breakfast, started a load of laundry, cleaned the bathroom, bathed one daughter and showered myself.
Huh. But it did feel like "nothing", somehow.
Later, after watching a Chinese language dvd with the girls and helping Sugar and Spice make lunch (which they usually do by themselves while Nice sets the table), I folded laundry, took a quick nap, read an extra chapter to Sugar and Spice from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (while advising Nice to keep Lil' Snips away from various enticing household dangers), and then decided to bake cookies.
And it still felt like "nothing."
I spooned lumps of cookie dough onto the trays, mulling over this anomaly: I was doing as much as, or more than, I would have on a day powered by a to-do list, and yet .... I felt relaxed, carefree. Was it the extra sleep? Having "backup" (as husbands who work away are gratefully but inadequately called when they are home)?
Both sleep and the presence of my stalwart husband help, of course. But I feel as if I have discovered something alluringly simple. Today I was focused on enjoying the day, relaxing, just being with my family. My intention was to deliberately "waste" my day.
Instead, serendipity happened: I was productive with my time. And, miracle of miracles, I enjoyed it along the way.
I wasn't hurrying. I didn't push children out of my way (*blush* as is my custom at times). I didn't say "not now" when Nice longingly admired the pictures in one of Lil' Snip's books. Instead, I stopped what I was doing and read her the story - right then! (that only deserves an exclamation point, I'm embarrassed to tell you, because it is so highly unusual for me). I didn't fret about time & schedules - in fact, we ate lunch early because .... we were hungry early.
I would like to say that this has been an epiphany and hereafter I will run my household with a lighter touch, but I don't suppose there will actually be an overnight transformation. It does give me a faint sort of hope, though, for a different reality. Could life be like that - always?
Or is that what heaven is for?
I will be grateful for the gift of a happily "wasted" day. Now if you will excuse me, I need to go eat a cookie with my daughters....
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