Today I have no words

All I can find to say has been said before--by Jeremiah, and quoted on another blog which brought it to my eyes.

"My eyes fail from weeping, I am in torment within; my heart is poured out on the ground because my people are destroyed, because children and infants faint in the streets of the city."
Lamentations 2:11.

How fitting. I am in torment within. I am in anguish for families torn apart by violence and tragedy. For mothers and fathers and siblings and teachers and neighbors who no longer have "as usual" in their life lexicon. I have no healing words today--or yesterday, or since I heard about Sandy Hook. I only have tears. And hope that tomorrow will be less awful. And hope that somehow, someday, Jesus will make sense of all of this horror. For all of us.

My heart is poured out on the ground. May the giver of all life return it to me, once again able to live in hope and peace. May He do this for us all.

Thank God!!!

Elections are over, the votes (mostly) counted and we are done! I am so very thankful I cannot express it in words. Picture happy dances and sighs of relief. So let's all move on to real life again shall we?

Ok, first of all lately I have been reading a lot of books that are turning my heart and parts of my theology upside down. It isn't entirely pleasant--really, who loves emotional turmoil--but it IS good. There are just so many things that I'm finding new perspective on these days and I love it. Things I might have seen as colossal problems now seem less so, or even inconsequential; things that may have pushed me toward discouragement and despair no longer do (most of the time, I'm still human). The whole process to bring me to this time of re-evaluating big pieces of my life has been a long time coming. A very long time. It gives me hope my journey isn't quite as direction challenged as I thought. To fully explore the many avenues this is taking in my life will require multiple posts so I am keeping it fairly general right now. Suffice it to say I'm taking a long hard look at where I have been placing my heart and my trust, and whether those places are the right ones.

Related to this is my previously mentioned frustration with the election cycle and all things political. There are just so many things we as Americans should be paying more attention to in my opinion. Our whole society right now seems to be centered not around what is right or decent or good for all people, but what is easiest and most comfortable for us as Americans. I feel as though we are--collectively as a culture so I fully include myself in this--just saying to the world we do not care 1 iota about your life and death struggles, your desperate attempts to stay alive and feed your children and perhaps find work. 27 million people, largely women and children, trapped in slavery? Oh, that's not our problem, who cares? Is what our actions indicate our response to be. 26,000 people dying daily around the globe purely from starvation and easily treated diseases? Bahh, no biggie we say. But which guy wins the presidency will surely bring about either the end of the world or heaven on earth, depending on your point of view. One friend of mine even suggested instigating a new civil war over the results of yesterday's elections. Wow. Great enthusiasm and passion and all my friend, but since you claim Christ you're striking me as misguided. Possibly even insane. We are so much concerned with how our lives of abundance and complacency and constant, compulsive, unending consumption and materialism can be maintained and never disturbed in any way we've lost sight of what is true and right. It saddens me and makes me disgusted with myself and the country as a whole, and angers me too. 

But since it is not within my power to upend the focus of the American consumption culture I will simply continue to read, and pray, and figure out what I can do to change my own life in order to help more people who truly need it. And I will pray extra for my angry heart to soften toward all those who seem apathetic to these issues, and the many other overlooked injustices on God's heart. I will start today.

On Politics and Religion

This will not be a post telling you what to think and how to vote!

Ok, just a short note to say a few important things. First, may I just say that while I wholeheartedly support democracy and elections and the freedom we enjoy in that process in this country, I hate political campaigns with a fiery passion? There is a depth of loathing in my soul I cannot adequately convey. All the nasty, mud-slinging, name-calling, polarizing, posturing just makes me crazy! By the time we hit October--especially in a presidential election year--I am ready to simply abdicate my rights as a citizen and hide under a rock on voting day. I won't actually do that but you get the idea right? Just once, I'd like the candidates to make clear, non-ambiguous statements about their beliefs regarding government and its role in our society. No wishy-washy mealy mouthed half opinions that can be spun 14 ways depending on the audience. No avoiding the issue by pointing the finger at the opponent's lack of humanity. Just "This is what I think and this is why and if you don't like it, please vote for the other guy." And then guess what? maybe all of us could get a clear idea of what they stand for, and what they stand against, and just maybe we could vote with a clearer conscience this year. I'm not a person who votes based on party lines or on only 1 or 2 "BIG" issues. I try to get a picture of the kind of person I'm electing, and whether I feel I can trust that person to make decisions they feel best serve our country and our needs. I couldn't care less which party supports them and I couldn't care less what religious beliefs they hold, if I feel they are a person of integrity and honesty. A person who will stand up for all citizens, not just those with money to throw around. Who will fight hard for what the believe is right, even if it costs them votes or points in the polls. Who just once, admits the "other side" might have a point on an issue. Pretty please candidates?

Secondary to all that is this: nothing is more likely to make me re-think my friendship with someone than their making any kind of "if you're a Christian you must vote ___" statement. My faith informs my choices, and that's good and right but that in no way means I believe my choices will be the same as yours. I'm fairly certain that if God can create a large and varied world and 7 billion unique people then he can totally handle differing opinions amongst his people. How about we all just realize Christ died for ALL, to save ALL and make ALL things new and leave it at that? God reveals himself to us in different ways based on who He created us to be, not based on how we vote or how loudly we denounce another group's stance. I mean, seriously as brothers and sisters in 1 body could we not just get along a little? I'm over it folks. Over. It. So please, let's all just vote and agree that it is the participation that is important for fulfilling our responsibilities as citizens not the specific side we take. This has the added benefit of allowing us to remain friends and co-workers and etc even if we don't vote the same way, which makes me happy, and life less stressful.

That is all for today.

Ok the thing is:

Here's the scoop folks, and it isn't all that pretty. It may get long though. I am not a self starter. I have no intrinsic self discipline. If I am standing in my living room and the dishes are done, no one is hungry, the laundry is in a manageable state (it is NEVER done, so I no longer worry) and my bathroom does not present a health hazard I will simply not think to myself "I should vacuum, while I have a minute." It will not occur to me. Or if it does it will be followed immediately by "I'll get on that as soon as I eat/check facebook/email/sit for a minute." And then 30 mins later the window has closed, and I no longer have time to vacuum. Spontaneous chore initiation is not my gifting. I am not one of those uber productive women who homeschools 6 kids, shops thrift stores to plan ahead for a future need, then comes home to can 27 jars of tomatoes from my enormous, well tended garden. (See owlhaven.net for proof such a woman exists.) I'm just not. I'd like to be, because it seems like she gets more done.

I have been examining this trait in myself lately and found very little that is useful for changing it. It isn't that I'm not a hard worker--I actually love working hard at a satisfying task. It isn't even that I'm super dis-organized, because I have a few skills in that area; I do keep 4 children under 8 fed, clothed, reasonably clean, and usually know where to find the oh-so important thing they've just lost. I can be lazy, but honestly I think I'm mostly more tired. Last weekend while with 2 amazing friends for a weekend getaway I did some sobering math that still has my mind reeling. I may have said this before, so bear with me if you're bored ok? I have a point I promise. Anyway, I figured out that between when Kid was conceived in April of 2004 and Sunshine was born in April of 2011 I had 6 pregnancies, gave birth 4 separate times, and breastfed all 4 of those kids for at least 8 months. If I add the months I nursed Sunshine we hit December of 2011. Add that up I dare you. Not a mathematics fan? Ok, let me help you. 2004-2011=7 years. 7 years=84 months. Plus 8 months nursing Sunshine =92 months. 4 full term pregnancies + 2 miscarriages in first trimester = 44 months pregnant. I nursed my kids for 10.5, 10, 9.5 & 8 months respectively. 10.5+11+9.5+8=39 months breastfeeding. Can you see where this is going? This means that of 92 previous consecutive months leading up to 2012, I was either pregnant or nursing 83 months!!!! Can we just all soak that in a bit? Momma is TIRED!

My body was not 1 of those "oooh I just loooooove being pregnant and I feel great!" bodies. It hated me, and it wasn't at all sure it like the baby either. I always knew I was pregnant because I started feeling like I was about to come down with the flu; only I'd get morning sickness instead. I felt borderline flu-like throughout all my pregnancies, and obviously didn't get much sleep what with the bladder issues and etc. Also? My kids are not the kind of kids who sleep well--or late. Maybe we are just terrible sleep trainers, maybe they are just hyper like Bob & I, maybe there are gnomes in their closets whispering "wake up wake up, sleep is for the weak!" I don't know. I do know not 1 of them ever slept through the night before 8 months, and Boy held out for 13 months. And for him, once he slept 'all night' meant he woke up at 4:30am. EVERY. DAY. For 8 or 9 months.

Needless to say, I started this year worn out. Little by little I am feeling more able to cope, more able to feel hopeful and energetic and like I can face life and maybe even accomplish things. I rest a lot. I think that is a healthy, useful, acceptable way to spend a good portion of my free time. But this is America folks, and when I look around I just don't see people or places that value healthy, useful ways to spend my time. I see ads for places to go and things to do and "experiences you don't want to miss!" I see kids in school for 7 hours and then in activities for 3 or 4 more hours 5 days a week and several hours more on weekends. And parents who work crazy hours and then stay up all night hand sewing halloween costumes because "crafting is fun". Don't get me wrong, I love watching Kid play soccer, and I do actually enjoy crafty projects. But you know what? I also enjoy sleep. Sleep is God's way of restoring our bodies to balance and health. It keeps us strong and able to think clearly. And I can promise you I do not think clearly if I stay up past 10. 9 or 9:30 would be better, but 10 is the cutoff. When I read that I feel a little old. And a little like I am surely missing out on whatever it is I used to do at night before I had kids.

So how does all this relate to the first paragraph? Well, I am trying to find a way to help my non self-starting self to be more proactive, even it is only with housework. I have been really beating myself up the last few years over how much I don't accomplish in comparison to other people I know, or see on blogs or whatnot. And while it's true I have a lot of room to grow as far as setting achievable goals for keeping the wheels on this crazy little life of ours, I've come to realize 1 other important truth. This season of tiny children and their hundreds of thousands of needs is no walk in the park. I may shake my head at strangers in Target who consistently say "you sure have your hands full!" because I think they're ridiculous but guess what? I do, in fact, have both hands very very full. And I like it. I admit I don't enjoy parts of this journey that are mandatory if I am going to stay home with my children. I loathe laundry and I despise dishes and I can't stand cooking while people hang on my legs and whine. But I DO like raising my kids myself, and not stuffing them into day care. I DO like spending time with all of them each day and knowing what is going on in their heads and lives. I DO like that they know I'll be around.

So I guess I have to find the delicate balance between the reality of my physically labor intensive stage of life and wanting to feel like I've accomplished a concrete task or 2 each day. Anyone have any ideas? All 3 of my readers feel free to comment! :)

Whirlwinds and Illness

First, foremost and always, may I say God is faithful? Thank you. I'll repeat it so it appears without a question mark. God is faithful. And good. And Brooklyn is alive, reasonably well, and has been so miraculously healed that she was released from the London hospital where she eventually arrived and she and her wonderful family returned to our city to finish her recovery. It may take several months before everything is stable enough to even consider their return to Sierra Leone, but she is ALIVE!!!! And she will be at church with us this Sunday. Where my eldest son will undoubtedly make inappropriate exclamations over the number of stitches in her arm. (One of her complications involved an incision the entire length of 1 arm to relieve swelling)

September passed in a tornado of prayer for our sweet girl and her family and we wouldn't have it any other way. Our little faith family really pulls out all the stops when it comes to loving on those of us in crisis and the enormity of Brookie's needs only made that trait shine. Our pastor flew to London on less than 12 hours notice, stayed a week to care and pray and just pour out all the love we feel for them and then came home and preached a sermon about what God taught him while he was away. All of us are just so thankful and relieved and giddy and amazed and generally in awe of all the ways God moved and the miracles he did to save her. I cannot express my joy for her mother, my friend who was at the point of despair when I first posted about their circumstances. It is all just so very very good. We revel in the goodness still, and I think that may go on awhile so forgive me if you get sick of hearing about it. We like revelry when there is such cause as this ok?

October has snuck in with a houseful of sick children which is disappointing but not shocking. Bob was superdad all weekend while I enjoyed a perfect getaway with 2 dear friends. I flew on a plane without children. I ate warm food someone else cooked without once wiping a chin, cutting someone's meat or getting up to fetch condiments napkins or more water for tiny hands. I slept straight through 2 nights in a row folks!!! It was a glimpse of heaven.

Unfortunately for Bob, Boy, Pixie and Sunshine were all sick for at least part of that time. Poor Boy is still miserable and coughing and sad and tired. And has to miss the most important field trip of the year at school tomorrow because he is just too sick. Sunshine got better for a bit but is now fretful and snotty and overtired again which is no fun either. Pixie ran a high fever most of last week and now seems to have generalized her symptoms to pure grumpy impossible-ness with an occasional temperature spike thrown in for good measure. Last night my flight arrived late, and thus I wasn't home until after midnight. Boy and Pixie were both awake, waiting for me. In their beds and quiet, but still awake. And since Boy slept in our bed to keep him from waking Kid and Pixie with his horrendous coughing fits I did not sleep much last night. That is not a complaint, but a factual statement. In light of all that has happened with Brooklyn I have decided I will not complain about sick children this year. Because honestly, what right do I have? They may be sick and cranky and taking care of them may wear me out and frustrate me but guess what? My doctor is 15 minutes away, sees me whenever we need him, answers his cell phone even after hours and has been known to call in a prescription just based on a phone conversation. We have hospitals nearby with all the equipment and expertise I could ever hope for and insurance to pay for it. And no matter how exhausting it may be to care for them and keep the wheels on our daily life, it is beyond unlikely that I will at any point be told my only chance to save their life is to separate myself from them indefinitely and send them thousands of miles away immediately and hope it is soon enough to avert tragedy. That being the case I will simply buy another bottle of children's ibuprofen, hunker down and wait out the snot and the coughing and the grumpy toddler.

If you don't hear from me for a bit, it is doubtless due to the germs my offspring are sharing amongst themselves.

And

Brooklyn is 8. She is sweet and shy and quiet, but very bubbly once she decides you're ok to be around. She and her brother Sam are 2 of my very favorite kids in the whole world. Which is actually saying a lot because we know A LOT of kids. Right now she is going through things most adults could not handle, in a strange country with a strange language, with her amazing but completely exhausted Dad by her side and her mother 2 countries away. She has had IVs, transfusions, reactions, complications and more complications. People all over the world are praying for her and her family right now, and I know it is helping. They've seen miracles already in her care and their ability to get what she needs. Soon she will move to another hospital in yet another country, this one with wonderful care and even better her Mother and brother will join her there. She will even get to see our Pastor, who will arrive before her and prepare some things for the family's comfort. He's a deep well of love and concern and hard work all at once and I'm so glad we can send him.

And yet she is still so close to dying. Every little procedure that doesn't go smoothly; each hour she stays anemic or dehydrated or undernourished or her body is just overwhelmed. We are still begging the Great Physician to work miracle after miracle until it almost feels greedy. And because He loves us so fervently and purely, I trust and believe He will continue healing her. And yet I'm scared He may not. And frustrated to know she suffers so much, and her parents whom I love and admire suffer too. And I'm angry too, because why in the world would God call them so clearly to move to this place to do this work that so desperately needs doing, only to allow this horrible stage of their journey? Why? WHY? I don't understand it. I don't like it. I don't want to have keep waiting and weeping and waiting some more. I don't.

And then it hits me. I'm reminded and it brings comfort, albeit twisted backhand comfort. This is a broken, hurting world. And sweet Brooklyn and her family are just as subject to that brokenness and hurt as the rest of us. And none of it surprises God; he knows the hairs on her head and the freckles on her precious nose and the sparkle in her eye much better than we do. He knows what she needs and what her Daddy and her Mom need and what her tender-hearted brother needs too. HE knows. He has a plan and by His grace we'll see that plan unfold in ways none of us could imagine. So I breathe, and remind myself to be grateful for keeping her safe thus far instead of bitter she's on the journey at all. And I pray and join my friends in prayers and fasts and updates and more prayers all day and night. I think I have never in my life prayed this much for anyone, even myself. And I will not stop. Not until we hear she is healed, hydrated, happy and headed home. And just this once, I will lay my worries down at the foot of the cross with every prayer, with every breath and every step.

And it will all be enough for today. And tomorrow we'll do it again, because we love her so. And we know HE loves her so too.

Anger & Hope and everything in between

My dear friend's 8 year old daughter, Brooklyn, is currently in danger of dying from typhoid. They live in Sierra Leone, and her vaccine was apparently faulty because she got sick anyway. The update her Mom sent to our church this morning said her kidneys are shutting down so they're flying her to Ghana in the hopes of getting her stabilized and then moving her to London, but she added this sentence which has me praying and sobbing and angry and begging God to not let this come to be. "She's dying and won't make it." She had to write that about her precious little girl, less than 1 month after moving to a new country to help the fight against human trafficking. It is terrible.

I am heartbroken and just praying nonstop that God will intervene and miraculously heal her. It is all I can think about and I don't know what to do other than  pray and hold on to hope, especially since it sounds like her family cannot do that right now.

I have nothing else to say today.

I feel the need . . . the need for speed!

Name that movie.

Anyway, I feel the need to write but I have nothing to say. It's kind of funny actually, how often this happens to me. In the course of my day I am always thinking of things I want to blog about, or journal about or getting ideas for stories I could write; then something distracts me and when I actually sit down here to write I can't think of any of them.

The girls are resting and I checked a friends blog and she wrote the most beautiful post
about love and faith and how she wishes things could look different than they do now. I read it and thought "Yes! That is so true, that is exactly right, that is . . . what I wish I could write." Which made me realize something: I love to hear peoples' stories and thoughts much more than I love to write my own. I mean, I love to process things via writing and I do that a lot here, but what I REALLY REALLY love is listening to someone else. I love to hear the hearts of my friends and loved ones, and of those I only know from their blogs or some article a friend posts on facebook. I love to really listen and dig deep into what someone else has lovingly painstakingly written and just soak it all into my soul. I really really love it.

I wonder how I could do that more often? Is there a way to minister to others through listening--not like counselling, because that's not my strong suit--through just hearing what others have been through or are going through? Hmmm, I wonder.

Stop the world I want to get off!

Lately I feel like my life has somehow become a high speed freight train of going going going, but never actually getting anywhere. Everything, from our schedule to Bob's job to the roller coaster of emotions 4 kids provide to keeping the house somewhat put together just feels so frantic and unendingly exhausting. I wake up each day and lay in bed praying "Please God. Just today, just once can we(meaning Bob & I) not feel overwhelmed and totally spent by noon? Pretty Please?" And then I get up and shower and dress and diaper and feed kids and hustle the boys out the door for school and load and unload them from the car 40 eleven times and clean and cook and fold and wash and and and and and. And Bob is stressed and hating work life and cannot catch a break to save his life where occupation is concerned.

And we are trying, each day to seek the joy and find the good and focus on the many blessings and things for which we are truly soul deep grateful. Some days it works, some days not. Lately, despite all the good and intentional choosing of focus I feel beaten. Conquered. Unable to slow down, breath, chill. I walk around with the satirical but so appropriate thought of someone somewhere who said "STOP THE WORLD I WANNA GET OFF!" Everything is just too much, too fast, too zooming along out of control.

Want to know the most ridiculous part of it all? We don't have that much going. I mean sure 4 kids 7.5 and younger is quite a bit of parenting and herding and whatnot, and school just started for Kid and Boy, but seriously we Don't. Do. Any. Thing. On Tuesday night we paid a sitter and went out for the evening together. It was I think the 4th time since last December we have done something so crazy. And that makes this a HUGE year event-wise. No one is in any clubs or sports or classes beyond the school day. Both boys attend the same school for the same number of hours each day. Said school is less than 6 blocks from our house. The girls and I are home large portions of each day with the flexibility to do or not do as needed. They can nap and play and "help" with housework. We go to church most Sunday evenings and occasionally do fun things with other families on weekends. That. IS. All. While it is true that over the summer Bob has somehow ended up(despite many assurances this would not continue) working 10-12 hour days several days a week and getting called on to help others on weekends, which makes for a grumpy tired husband and sad Daddy-missing children; it is also true that most of the husbands I know have to do that and seem to go along fine. I don't understand it all really, which is what makes me blog it in the hopes I will magically figure it out as I write. I'll let you know how that goes.

On most of the "cool" blogs I read, the writers seem to arrive at some profound, or at least coherent, point at the end and sign off having shared said point with clarity and passion and panache. I feel cloudy, lukewarm and as clumsy as a pregnant women on crutches. And like I have not made any point at all, except I keep trying to simplify our life and ease the stress of too much doing and still it feels a burdensome load. I guess this is one of those seasons where we will just keep on keepin' on and hope the steps we're taking pay off down the road. I can endure. I can. I can even (sometimes) do it cheerfully.

Have I mentioned I hate intentionally practicing patience and tranquility?

Daring Greatly Revisited.

I just re-watched the Brene Brown vids I mentioned in this post. They are still phenomenal. I can't sit and write too much because I need to clean my kitchen and go to bed, but I want to get these thoughts down before I crowd them out with the day to day tasks that eat my brain.

1. Bob is currently daring greatly in a few important areas and I am so so proud of him. I won't dissect that too much because they are his projects and not mine, but it is truly amazing and humbling to watch him work hard at his current goals. I love him, and I love being the wife part of our particular husband-wife set.

2. I am a huge coward when it comes to some of the things I believe God created me to be/do. I know they're hardwired into the essence of me, but I don't do them because I'm terrified that if I do, someone might find out and do something awful. You know, like expect me to try? Seriously. Gigantic coward.

3. In the video on vulnerability Brene talks about worthiness and its connection to courage and wholehearted living. Which reminds me that I really need to tell a friend about how her work at a retreat several years ago profoundly changed my life. Why does it remind me? The answer, simply put, is because she did a whole session with the women of my church on our true name/identity in Christ and I had a heart moment of epic proportions. I will have to post that particular piece of my story on its own I think, but I thought if I reminded myself here it might prompt me to stop frittering time and just do it.

4. Over the past few years my tv consumption has gone way way down. I have my addictions of course but they are waning and the list has been dramatically culled until there are genuinely no shows I "have to see" anymore. The biggest consequence I've noticed about this change is not that I am now super productive and organized and rested; those were the results I was hoping for and expecting. But nope. The real changes have been (imho) that I no longer spend so much time measuring myself against the lives of others. I feel less--not to say none I'm still human--discontent in the face of other people's comfort/success/perceived ease of life. I feel less need to conform and buy things and spend time and energy on a bunch of things I don't actually value or care about in order to fit in or elevate myself in others' esteem. My kids aren't in a zillion activities, and instead of getting defensive if people comment I just say "No, they aren't. We don't really do the hectic schedule thing very well." My husband and I don't have much in the way of active hobbies right now and I just don't care. We are tired and worn thin and once the kids are in bed we don't want to spend more energy on much of anything, even if its something we like doing. For this season of tiny children and long hours and early mornings this is what we need and it is truly, finally, joyfully, okay with me. I like our life and the choices we make to keep ourselves and our kids sane and if other people think I'm nuts than so what? I cannot definitively say these are all a direct cause/effect relationship to less tv viewing, but I am fairly certain that avoiding commercials and their loss aversion brain manipulation has helped. Also it has allowed me to see that my ability to relate to and care for others well is not affected by my knowledge of the shows they watch each night. My ability to live more "wholeheartedly" is about my desire to love and connect with the people in my life and I don't need to waste time watching tv to do that. What a concept! Only 34 years to figure it out too. I am surely a prodigy.

5. I think there are several more but this is long and it is late and I must wash dishes and then sleep. The end.

Wandering through my own mind

Sometimes I just sort of meander through the many random swirls of thought in my brain and wonder if any of them will ever un-swirl and become fully formed ideas, or even (gasp) actions. That's the big sticking point for me, always. To move from thought or intention to action. I don't think I ever learned how one does such a thing. No, that's not true, I know exactly how to to do it if it is for someone else's benefit; especially someone who doesn't live here. It's very backward when I really stop to think about it.

My house gets clean and tidy because someone is coming over, not because my family deserves a comfortable living space. I sew or write or bake because someone needs a gift or asked for my help, not because it feeds my soul to create. I cook and clean up spills and do laundry laundry laundry because I get hungry and dirty and goodness knows the kids do too. But not because I love to see them eat, or enjoy teaching them how to keep their own homes neat and homey someday. If I really stop to think, and wonder and process I simply cannot understand myself.

I don't know what it all means or how it should change or why it even matters. For me, knowing what things mean and why they matter are the catalysts for change. So to sort through it all is critical, if I want to become a me who can bless my family with not just words, but the work of love too. The housekeeping, clothes washing, yard upkeep kinds of love that help my children learn it's good and satisfying to work hard for those you love. I don't think I'm teaching them that very well and I'm ashamed. I'm embarassed when I hear Kid say "That sounds too hard, why do I have to?" Or when they leave their toys and clothes strewn about and uncared for instead of putting them away. Or assume they can just carelessly ruin and break things and then have them immediately and painlessly replaced. No effort, no struggle, no waiting. And I know this is kids and they are learning the world and that's my job as their mother. To teach them the waiting and the effort and the struggling and I try. Bob tries. We pray and we wake up every day and try again and that struggle is surely part of our growth just as picking up their toys is part of theirs. And still they act so entitled some days. So sure of material comfort without condition. And so I'm embarrassed again. Not for them, for me. At my own laziness and apathy. I've been given this 1 life to live, and somehow seeing them not care about the mess or be willing to help clean it up without prodding makes me sure I'm failing. Failing them, failing me, failing the world at large. There are things I should be doing to teach them these lessons and I'm not and I don't know why.

I am falling into my own head with these thoughts sometimes and it isn't helping and I'm back to wondering again how to move from thinking to doing. I want to be a doer when it comes to love and not just a talker. I just don't know how. So I wade back into those swirling eddy thoughts and I swing a fishing net through them and try to pluck them up and sort them out. And I'll keep trying until I get it right. One of these days this struggle will ease and then I suppose different one will take its place. Because this is a journey and I can't be on a journey if I don't keep moving. . .

Right?

I hate unresolved internal conversations. Perhaps I should stop posting so many of them.

Robbed

Today I took my kids to swimming lessons and then my mother, who is visiting for a week, bought us a drive through lunch as a treat. Shortly after we came home I discovered we'd been robbed. Pixie was already sleeping, Sunshine was on her way to nap, and I was suddenly terrified to be in my own home. My mom and I took the kids outside and called the police and stood in the hot front yard and waited for them. Sunshine fussed. I did a lot of surreptitious deep breathing in an attempt to appear calm for my children's sake. Kid was very upset. The police came and searched the house. No one was there. Neither was any of my jewelry, my father's wedding ring, some electronic devices, or my grandmother's antique pocket watch. Can I just interrupt this narrative to add that Bob is overseas for the next 5 days and nearly impossible to reach? Because he is, and it is not easy. And when I couldn't call him to come home and help me talk the kids through things I very nearly hyperventilated in my own front yard. The police officer was very kind and not very encouraging. He made a report and everything and basically said we'd never get any of it back. I appreciate the honesty but it was hard to hear. A dear friend came over to check on us, because he knew its scary to be burglarized and wanted to check on us. It was very soothing. My children were already overtired from a late night watching fireworks last night, and the upheaval brought them to a new low. I think they should all have gone to bed at probably 4:30pm. But they wouldn't, so we just had lots of screaming and fits and fighting while I dealt with the aftermath and tried to remain moderately collected. I've had 2 late nights in a row before this and my exhaustion was a major hindrance. My mother was an enormous help which was good. They only took things, and not very many of them, and everyone is safe and I am so very thankful for that; at the same time I am angry and frightened and annoyed and tired. It's been a very confusing day. I miss my husband and wish he were here to help me feel safe. I know God will keep me secure, but I also know secure doesn't always mean safe. Perhaps I will learn something from this experience that will change me or my life. At the moment I think I will mostly learn how to fill out insurance claim forms. I really am exhausted and need to sleep. Good night.

Bob

Tomorrow is Father's Day. I wish I had some super great, profound post planned out but I don't. I do want to say that my husband is truly one of the most caring fathers I have ever known, and he works so hard for us sometimes I can't understand how he manages it. 4 kids 7 and under is not a task for the faint-hearted and he has always been up to the challenge. Kid, Boy, Pixie and Sunshine light up like a sun rise whenever they see him and it makes my soul lighter every time I get to see it happen. My mother always told me you can (and should) forgive many many things if a man loves his children well. She was right. She still is. My children never have to wonder if their Daddy loves them because he is here every day, doing it and telling them so. That is a priceless gift to all of us. Aside from his general awesome-ness as Daddy to our little tribe, I'd like to point out a few other great things about Bob. He is a forgiving, gentle man who can still be formidable when necessary. He is the best tickling-wrestle monster in the universe (title bestowed by Kid and Boy). He can make me laugh till I cry. He sees me, even when I feel invisible. He's not afraid of diapers, or crying toddlers or kissing boo-boos or being silly in front of people. He makes sure I know he thinks I'm gorgeous. He gets that we're really different and sometimes we approach parenting from opposite poles and doesn't generally let that drive him crazy--unlike me who gets nutty over it. He can do Pixie's hair. On the days when I feel drowned in a sea of dirty laundry and tantrums and toy typhoons he brings home take out and does the dishes just because he loves me. He dreams big, and lets our kids dream with him. He has a heart for Jesus. He's mostly just an all around super star in the Daddy/Husband/Life Partner arena. Thanks Bob, it means a lot to me. I love you.

What does it say about Me . . .

Tonight we had dinner with some friends who are moving to West Africa in a few months to do some really really great work. I realized as we were talking about the preparations they're making that I envy them. I'm even a little jealous. Of a family moving to a developing nation where they won't even be able to receive most of their mail, and they have to get a guard dog to keep people from breaking into their house and clean water isn't guaranteed and internet will be a precious and rare commodity. I don't know what that says about me and my life but I should probably examine it a bit because I'm fairly certain that's a little odd. Even for me. Mostly I'm jealous of how they'll have such great excuses to focus on truly important things, like God and raising their kids and their work for a worthy cause and just those 3 things will pretty much fill their time. Not aimless web surfing, or unnecessary shopping or wasting time watching tv or doing any number of other leisurely pursuits I do fairly regularly. I envy them because they will be in a place so far removed from the more ridiculous pieces of American culture; a place where sometimes your computer won't work and the world won't end. And your phone isn't stuck to your ear 14 hours a day and nobody expects your kids to be in 12 activities every week. Where the things you do each day will more often truly matter. It just sounds really nice. Which, I realize is probably not how most people see what they're doing. And is probably not a fully accurate picture of how their life will be once they get there. So that's my thoughts for today.

Pseudonyms for everyone!!!

Well, only my daughters really. Since my 1 year old hasn't had a name of any kind on this blog, and my almost 3 year old can no longer accurately be called "baby girl" I decided its time to update. So now my older girl will be Pixie and my younger one will be Sunshine. Because those are really accurate descriptions for them. Sunshine is just the sweetest, most content little person. She's happy all the time unless we make her wait too long for her nap or she's sick. And Pixie is very affectionate and dear, while simultaneously high strung and prone to unreasonable tantrums. So she's a toddler is what I'm saying. But that's really all I've got folks. Life is non-stop around here, and I should really be sleeping. Pixie and Sunshine will be awake in 8 hours or so. With Kid and Boy right after them. And Bill graduates in a few weeks so we're prepping and planning and making space for a variety of my in-laws to come for that too. I have no deep soul searching insights today. Maybe tomorrow?

The Follow up

I'm still not entirely sure I know what I want to say. I think I should start with a thank you, and a backstory. A few posts ago I mentioned that some friends were taking me out for a little weekend getaway, just because they're wonderful friends who felt I'd benefit from some rest. Anne, Amy, & Laini, THANK YOU. You are loving, kind, gracious friends and knowing how much you care leaves me speechless. I've been trying to write you each a note since you dropped me off and I cannot find adequate words for how loved I felt, even if I seemed indifferent. I never know the appropriate response is for simple unexpected kindness. I am pretty sure I don't deserve such generous friends.

During our time together they asked me several times "what do you want to do/go/eat?" They weren't trying to be pushy or intrusive, they wanted to do whatever felt most rejuvenating to me. And while I think I usually came up with sort of normal answers I was always thinking
"hide. avoid any semblance of true connection and just hide."
Which, if you know these women is a ridiculous reaction. The 3 of them are some of the most gracious, kind, gentle people I've ever met. They've born many many burdens--mine, their own and others--in the years I've known them and never made me feel like they mind. Sometimes I find myself in situations that remind me how unusual our little community truly is, and it always makes me both incredibly grateful and unbearably sad. To realize how many people just don't have anyone in their life who cares for them well makes me sad. So to have friends like these is something I value so highly. And yet. Still, if they ask how I am how do I react? I try to hide. I try to avoid answering through all manner of avoidance tactics. I asked about their lives, I changed the subject, I deflected by give half-answers that addressed real issues I'm struggling with, but didn't touch the core of my heart. Does this sound ridiculous to anyone else? Even at the time I remember thinking I was being ridiculous and I still couldn't seem to help it. It's a flaw I have, this reflexive deflection.

So when we got home I felt a bit deflated; like I'd disappointed them with my guarded, defensiveness. It all seems so silly now but that is why they say hindsight is 20/20 right?
So all of that to say the videos(links at bottom of post) I watched of this researcher talking about being vulnerable came at what could be gently described as 'timely'. Her discussion on what she calls Wholehearted living and what it could mean for our culture just hit me really hard. On a gut wrenching, heart searing level that I was unprepared to process*. I didn't understand why it dug so deep to hear what she had to say. I think I still don't entirely understand.
Here's what I have so far though: too much of my outlook, my inner monologue, my daily approach is based in shame or fear. Apparently I am unconsciously a moderate self hater. I wouldn't have described myself that way a few months ago but the more I pay attention to what's actually going on inside my head the more I'm sure its true. I say moderate because if I stop and listen, I can usually turn myself around fairly quickly; not always but usually. Even so I'm shocked regularly to really hear what goes through my own mind at any given moment. For me the "not good enoughs" are different than a lot of women(at least I think they are, based on what I know about other womens' struggles). My appearance isn't a huge thing for me in general. I'm not super confident about risks in that area but on the other hand I don't care very much if people think I'm sloppy or under dressed or whatever. It just isn't something that interests me.
Like everyone though, that nasty voice constantly reminds me of zillions of other ways I don't measure up. My house is too dirty, and not decorated or organized well enough. My kids are too loud, too dirty, too hyper, too weird or some combination thereof. I'm an inconsiderate wife, a lazy daughter, not a supportive enough sister or friend. I'm not spiritual enough or gracious enough or loving enough to people God places in my life. I'm always late and I don't send birthday cards or Christmas cards or remember to buy presents for my family. I don't walk my dog enough. The list--as I'm sure you can imagine--can go on for miles.
Now we hit my sticking point. The one that always trips me up in these soul endeavors. What next? I recognize God prodding me toward something, His loving insistence that I not ignore all these pots He's stirring in me. And lots of growth IS happening in tiny little bits at a time. But you know what? Growth is hard. And exhausting. And not usually pretty or fun. And there's no easy way to tell if I'm finished. How will I know if I've "fixed" this? I'm not even sure I like this brand of growth. Couldn't I just have some sort of major epiphany and then be totally done with certain issues? Why now? What should I do with all of this to help myself continue processing? I don't know. For today it has to be enough that I've written it down, and I'm willing to keeping thinking it over. Hopefully that will lead me somewhere good tomorrow.
Hopefully.

*I am nearly always unprepared to process hard hitting emotional responses.

http://www.ted.com/speakers/brene_brown.html

Both her talks appear in the right hand column of her ted page. They're about 20 minutes each.

Daring Greatly

I just watched 2 phenomenal ted talks. The speaker mentions that quote by Teddy Roosevelt about how the credit in life should go to the man in the arena. The one who actually dares to attempt something, even if it means they fail. I'll find some links and put them in here later, but for now I just needed to say that this idea--when stated in light of our cultural tendency towards shame and its conspirator fear--is shaking me to my core. I don't know why or what that might mean but I know it is important and I intend to run hard after the source of that shaking. If anyone reads this, please check back in a few days or a week to see what happens.

Have a wonderful soul-giving day.

Laundry in abundance

Let me intentionally start this post with something positive, something cheery and not depressing, whiny or sad. My 4th child, who still needs a pseudonym even though she's 10 months old, recently discovered she can pull herself into a standing position. She is very excited and proud of this new feat and grins adorably while she does it. Those sweet, dimpled little smiles are some of my very favorite moments each day. *contented sigh*
She is a truly endearing little person who seems to delight in all parts of our disorganized life. Except for teething or the flu--but who can blame her for not liking those? I heart her. And so does Bob, who currently sees her less than 1 hr a day due to an unmanageable workload combined with an infant's sleep needs. If I could change 1 small thing in our life right now it would definitely be making it possible for Bob to be able to spend more time loving on that baby. He adores her, and cannot get enough of playing and snuggling and laughing with her. I think it would be therapeutic for his overworked soul. *less contented sigh*

And now my originally intended post.
I do a lot of laundry. And I hate it. I hate hauling it down to the machines, sorting it, having to remember to switch the load, hauling it back up. I really really hate folding it and either putting it away or browbeating my offspring into putting their own away. (This chore being, clearly, a torturous task only the truly horrid would foist on a child) I hate it because it is thankless, and monotonous and most of all because it is never. Ever. done. Ever.
Last weekend I completed something like 8 loads of laundry, after a week that included both house guests and a disgusting flu that involved both vomit and explosive intestinal distress. And when I finished folding it all do you know what happened? I bet you can guess. . . Yep, I still had 2 more clean loads in the dryer or baskets, plus the other items already re-filling hampers in all 3 bedrooms. And today I will be doing some more.
I am trying to find something in this unending task to be thankful for, but today it eludes me. I mean, I'm glad no one in our house has to go naked and all, but only in an intellectual, no desire to get calls from schools or get Bob fired way. Not actually grateful. I suppose the rest of our community is glad we aren't nudists, so maybe knowing I'm contributing to the common good will have to be close enough for now. Tomorrow I will be thankful for many things, including some uninterrupted time with dear friends who I cherish and who love me much better than I deserve. Is it ridiculous to be saving up thankfulness? *final, confused sigh*

rambling new year thoughts

So this may be a bit morbid, but the other day my nephew posted this photo on facebook. Its my father's headstone, from his recent visit to the cemetery. When I saw it there, with his very sweet message of love for his grandfather I felt exposed. raw. wounded. My soul clawed frantically for coping mechanisms, escape, anything to avoid actually feeling the sorrow and pain that comes with remembering my Pop. I don't know if you can see the dates clearly but Pop died in 2004. He's been gone 8 years this May. To be totally torn open like this shocked me. It feels excessive, unduly overwhelming. I've been pondering my reaction for several days, trying to make sense of it.
Then last night my dear friend gave part of our church's message; she talked about looking forward to what God will do this year, and about being honest about our hopes and desires and needs as we move out of 2011 and into 2012. I am not a resolution maker, but her words hit my heart like an arrow. She asked us to think of what type of year we wanted, what word or words we wanted to describe our journey. One word filled my mind. Healing. I want so badly for this year to one of healing and new growth and health. There are a lot of reasons for that, but as I sat there sorting through my mind I realized that even after 8 years I still need healing.
Pop was not an easy man to love, nor an easy father to have but he was the only one God gave me. I am still angry and hurt that He saw fit to take him back so soon. My dad never met my children--never even knew 'Kid was on the way since I didn't know myself until after his death. He never saw them crawl or walk or laugh or taught them any of the things he taught my nephew. He never took the trip we had planned to see his Mother overseas, the one I missed to give birth to 'Boy. He missed so very many things that make my life the joyous chaotic tangle it is now. He wasn't there to comfort me when I lost 2 babies to miscarriage, or when we buried his brother and his sister. He isn't here now for me to call if I'm uncertain about my parenting or to ask for advice.
All those missed experiences, missed memories, make the anger and hurt grow. I try to corral it with trite sayings about time easing pain and how Dad is in a better place. I try to tell my kids about their granddad and enjoy their delight in silly stories. But in the end, I feel like the wife in a book I read who simply wants her husband back so she won't give away his shoes because he'll need them when he returns.

And yet somehow I can live with joy and love and contentment still. The hope I feel for my own kids does ease my heart and gives me peace in its own way. Maybe that's part of the answer, the love that keeps growing around and through and over the hurts. Like a vine that won't stop for any obstacle the love just worms its way in and keeps building. If I were an artist I'd sketch that, a big lovely flowery vine lacing together wounded hearts and souls with its green tendrils. Maybe if healing is my word, that can be my image this year. To help me remember that even if the wounds seem untended the master gardener is always coaxing new growth and new loves to soothe and repair and re-build. I'll have to remind myself a lot this year. To remember to watch carefully for new shoots in unexpected places to help me grow.