The World in my head

Today while driving back from visiting a friend a thought came into my head randomly.  
"The hardest truths should be spoken with the greatest love." 
I don't remember if this thought was related to anything specific in my mind at that moment but the sentence stayed with me and I wanted to write it down before I forgot it. I think this little nugget is a cornerstone of the things I have been trying to sort through in my head lately; the many many thoughts and feelings and dreams and plans and needs that make up my life right now. I have been feeling anxious and quite out of balance about it all the last few months to be honest, and it has not been pleasant.

So then this sentence appears, like a little gift to me. Apropos of pretty much nothing in my beat up mini van as I drove, I found myself thinking about love and truth and how what we need in this world is more love, in order to earn the right to speak truth.

I think for me this just means that when I start to feel inadequate and sub-par and as though I could never begin to meet all the expectations placed on me or measure up to the mothering blogs and the pinterest decors and the parenting books, that is when I need to stop. Full stop. Then think carefully about who I am listening to for my messages of worth and belonging. If someone's pinterest page or shared article on facebook or blog post is making me feel like crap on toast perhaps the problem is not--in my case--so much that those people are right and I'm coming up short. Perhaps--and again I emphasize this is about me and my journey and not whether someone else is right or wrong--right now what I need to decide is whether all those well meaning parenting book authors and bloggers and facebook friends have earned the right to speak into the deepest places of my life. More often than not, the answer is no. Besides which, probably most of those people are not intending to speak to me specifically and individually anyway. I have never read any publication which starts with: "Kate, I thought of you and only you the entire time I was writing this piece. Please pay attention and adjust your heart, life and attitude accordingly."

So maybe, just maybe, I need to pay more attention to those folks who actually know me on a personal level and care about my health and well-being. People who have demonstrated over time their love for me and a commitment to my good. And then I must filter all the messages I hear each day about my life choices, my mothering and my housekeeping through a lens that first checks for whether it comes from a source of deep love and grace for me personally. If so, then I should listen well and weigh their words and decide how to apply their advice. But if not? If it's just some random parenting "expert" or magazine ad making me feel like a failure at life then it is definitely time to close my eyes and ears and go find a better use for my soul's attention. 

This may sound simple and obvious to some people, but for me it is a pretty big deal. I'll have to work hard at this practice to make it stick.

More Questions than answers

My kids are determined to claim my intention, despite tons of one on one time with each of them this week, despite an entire family day yesterday and an outing this morning, despite Daddy being home and in the next room and more than willing and capable to help with anything they need. They just want Mommy. It is driving me insane to be honest, but I am even more determined to sit here and write for 5 minutes if it kills me.

I have been feeling what I can only call a divine push to write lately, but write differently than I have historically written here. I don't know what that means for this site, or for any other venues I may explore. I just know I NEED to write. I have a lot of thoughts and hopes and dreams and questions about how that will look and I am wrestling through all of those things and that is why I haven't been writing much.

I also have an intense, driving desire to simplify pretty much everything in my life as soon as humanly possible. I want fewer possessions, fewer events on our calendar, and fewer distractions from my big priorities in life. (God, Bob, kids are top 3) I want space and time to think through things and make good choices that reflect my values. I want room in my brain to consider new ideas and pray and try to change the things in my life that need changing. I want time to bake more and improve my sewing skills and maybe do a few projects around our house. I want to bike and walk by myself more often and soak up the peace that provides.

I want to actually live like I believe what I claim to believe, and I have no idea how. But I am going to keep trying because I am certain it will be worth it.

That is all for today.

Keep Trying

I've started 3 different posts in the last week or so and all of them have languished in my drafts bin, unfinished. And not very good. There has been quite a bit going on around here and I cannot seem to weave all little strings of thought and scraps of emotion into some sort of cohesive mental fabric. It frustrates me, these unsuccessful attempts.

I still can't quite find the the thread of what I want to say exactly, so this will be short. Mostly I just want to remind myself to be writing, and to keep trying even when it seems too hard. Writing is like life that way I guess.

On being awkward

She stood in front of me in the freezing snow, brushing off her car and telling me wonderfully kind things about the deepest parts of myself. She said most of them more than once while I stood there, awkward and uncertain. At a loss for the appropriate response to such thoughtful, sincere compliments. This particular friend is, and has always been, more than willing to be gracious in the face of my numerous quirks and awkward edges. As I drove home I rolled her words around my skull and wondered what on earth it is about a sincere compliment to my character (most especially an accurate one) that leaves me so flummoxed. I can say with both truth and frustration that unexpected kindess, both in word and deed, is more likely to unravel my few social graces than any harsh comment or rude act. My ability to accept or brush off unkindness is well developed. But a pure, unsolicited compliment? What am I supposed to do in response?

My choir teacher in high school drilled us repeatedly on smiling and saying thank you when someone gave positive feedback to a performance. "I don't want to hear any of you spouting off about the kid next to you screwing up when someone says well done. Say thank you. It's the polite, appropriate thing to say. Just thank you. And smile. I mean it!!!" She was a wonderful woman and a good teacher. I try to follow her advice in the broader spectrum of my life but when someone actually mentions anything to do with deep, heart level traits I freeze up. I don't know why.

Except that is probably a lie. I do know why but it scrapes my soul to say it. I freeze because it happens so rarely. Historically, I can think of very few compliments in this category being given. And all those I do remember came from the wrong people. Not wrong because there was anything wrong with them, just wrong because they were not the people I wanted to hear say such things. Not my parents or my brothers. Not the people I should have been able to count on to name those things in me, to help me nurture those places inside that were most me. They loved me, and I knew it. They still do. But they didn't say what I needed to hear, needed to know they saw. To know they noticed, paid attention. My brother did once, when I was in my late 20s, in an offhand sort of way at a family event. I was so shocked I didn't even insult him for it. "She doesn't even realize what makes her so rare. What she has that makes her so great." Considering this came from the same sibling who made large segments of my life an emotional hell I found it . . . startling. 6 years later I'm still startled. And if I mentioned it to him he'd be horrendously embarassed and blow me off entirely. It's how we roll in our little tribe.

****When I read this through again I realized I am giving the impression no kind words were ever said to me--that isn't true at all. I heard lots of praise for things I did well, or performed above expectation. It's just that they always seem to be comments about things I did, rather than who I was as a person.*****

So I'll keep trying to remember to say thank you and mean it and smile. Keep it simple, because it is easier to remember that way. And more than likely I'll freeze up again anyway the next time it happens. And I'll remember, always, that even when I feel most alone and unworthy there is a God who sees me and walks with me. And He has given me a an additional family who DO see me. The real me. And they don't even mock me for it. And I am so thankful.

Learning Things Backwards

So yesterday I read this quote:

"Good is Jesus and His backwards, upside-down ways."~Jen Hatmaker's blog, March 18, 2013

And now I will tell you why it is a balm to my heart right now.
Lately I have been discovering new things about myself. New things about how I see the world; how I interact with my family and even myself; many many new things. Until fairly recently I would have said I was a remarkably self-aware person and while I'm not necessarily wrong about that, I'm learning I still have a long way to travel. Which is good and sort of exciting--if a long, arduous, uncertain journey with no discernible destination can be called exciting--and also scary and frustrating.

Need an example? I have always struggled with how certain things about me just don't "fit in". Anywhere I go, no matter what, there are some things in my soul I just can't quite get to match the world around me. Sometimes I am a trapezoid peg trying to sink into a decidedly triangular hole. Not square and round, those are to easily adjusted for. Other days I just feel like a baloney sandwich at a black tie dinner. Neither the trapezoid nor the baloney sandwich are bad or wrong--they're just not in the "right" environment. In my family of origin I am too "happy" to truly feel at ease. I just live my life from a totally different center than they do and it makes it hard to connect. Again, they are not wrong or bad or even deliberately exclusive. They just see the world from a different side of their hearts and the distance between us can seem insurmountable. My faith gives me a hope they just don't seem to trust is real; it can make me appear 'other' despite our many shared memories and common struggles. On the other hand in my faith community I just so often feel less-than. Less stable. Less together. Less biblically informed. Less able to understand and maintain the mundane things of life. Less theologically mature or sound. Less fashionable. Less gifted. Less intentional. Less faithful. Just less. I recognize these things are all both untrue and unjust when directed at others, because in reality it is just how I see myself. My church family is truly one of the most loving, giving, wonderful groups of people I have ever known. They love me, and us, wholly and well. When we let them. Which I think Bob & I often don't. Sigh.

Also, the more I delve into some of my inner turmoils (can one pluralize turmoil? whatever, I did.) the more I am uncovering that I have learned so very many things backwards from other people. In this regard I truly am "different" than most people. Just last night during a meeting someone mentioned that our group had been handling disagreements so lovingly and well and how it was helping her feel less stressed about reaching our goals as a group.  She ended with something like "I just don't like conflict, so this has been good for me." My first thought was "Eureka!!! I finally understand why our meetings wear me out so much!! Healthy, loving conflict is just exhausting to me."
Why? It is profoundly against Every. Single. Thing. I have ever been taught about how a conflict works. I have absolutely no ability to auto-pilot or instinctively navigate a disagreement amongst a loving group more focused on kind treatment of those with whom I disagree than on winning. Yes I just said winning even though I know conflicts are supposed to be resolved, not won. You see the problem? Give me a shouting, belligerent, irrational, possibly drunk adversary whose only desire is to see me submit to their "right-ness" and I can crush you like a bug. Got a snide, snarky, passive aggressive, conflict avoidant foe who'll agree to your face and then turn around and do exactly as they please the minute your back is turned? Bring it. I can smack that sh*t down no problem.
But ask me to engage in a Christ-like exchange of differing views and opinions with an end goal of reaching consensus in love and true understanding and I am lost. I am ill at ease and adrift in a sea of inappropriate responses. I have definitely grown in this area over the years and can even occasionally formulate appropriate replies without having to filter too much. But usually I have to really dig deep in my mind and shovel multiple piles of sarcastic, belittling, not at all helpful or good words out of the way first. It is so tiring. Worth it, but just tiring.

In a similar way, I am a person often mentally and emotionally paralyzed by the mundane. Especially if it is something mundane that is meant to be accomplished via internal motivation rather than an outside stimulus or expectation. Crisis though? THAT I can do. Give me an unexpected family issue or semi-emergency and I'm on it. Friends in need? Got it covered. Temporary time of strenuous work or emotional output? I'm your girl. Daily, grinding, on-going "regular" issues? Nope. Can't get a handle on it to save my life. Thus I feel more than able to help a friend in struggle, or function at a somewhat normal level in an emergency, but I cannot find a way to keep my bathroom clean or teach my children to do chores. When there is "nothing going on" in our life I am finding that is when I am most likely to find organizing my house or sticking to a cleaning routine to be insurmountable tasks. Now that is not to say I suddenly keep a neat home when things get crazy. It only means at those times I am able to prioritize tasks and mostly I ignore anything unpleasant or not absolutely necessary. So I'll do the dishes, because otherwise we'll run out of forks, but I probably won't have cleaned my toilet in weeks and I won't care. It is an ongoing issue with no easy solution.

Based on conversations with friends and loved ones, I know these are unusual. I'm mostly ok with being unusual, but then sometimes it starts to wear on me. Living a life of constantly, unendingly, ALWAYS being the odd one out is depressing sometimes.
So when I read Jen's wonderfully encouraging words yesterday it was like a a fresh breeze on a hot still day. If Jesus was backward, then maybe I can find my way after all. Maybe there IS a purpose to all this messy growth I'm experiencing. Maybe some day I will look back and be able to clearly see how all this was exactly what I needed in order to serve God and help others. I'm writing it down just in case.

To make me feel loved. . . .

Last night during a conversation Bob told me: "I think you're brilliant. You're analytical and creative in a way no one else is and I like that. I like the things you think about the world and how we live and why some things should change. You notice things other people don't notice. It's good."

It was part of a larger discussion that was less than ideal as far as smooth communication is concerned, and to hear it in that moment was a true gift. He's a wonderful man--always--and yet he still manages to surprise me. To truly see me. To love me well even when I often don't give him credit for it.

I feel loved. And I intend to enjoy it.

Being New is exhausting

So that last post it was cathartic and all, but boy what a bummer to read! I couldn't stand it being the first post I see here anymore! So here's a lighter note for today.

First of all, right now in the state where I was born it is bitterly, horrendously cold! Some of my relatives haven't even seen 0 degrees in a few days--as in it hasn't been warm enough to reach 0!!! Brrrrrr!! I remember that awful, freeze your throat and your snot the minute you breathe outside cold and I do NOT miss it. And yes, if you must know, it is part of why Bob and I don't ever really consider moving back. I hate plugging in my car, or worse yet waking up in the middle of the night to start it and let it run so the battery doesn't freeze. I hate wearing 3 or 4 layers of clothes plus coats, hats, mittens, boots and a scarf and STILL BEING COLD. I hate when even opening your door to get the mail will make your furnace go on from the cold. I just don't enjoy it. So I am incredibly thankful today to live somewhere more temperate. Today the kids & I will be meeting some friends at a park for a play date and it will be lovely and sunny and they will run and play and get tired and dirty outside like kids should do. Hurray for the ability to be outside without getting frostbite!

Second, lately Bob and I have both been working hard on ourselves. By which I mean we have been putting in a lot of effort at changing some things that have needed changing for awhile. Miraculously, it has actually been working--a little at least--and we're seeing some improvements in our ability to handle things that would previously have really messed us up. This is wonderful news and a bit exhilarating; it is also so tiring I think I could sleep for a month. Not the normal daily tired of life as we know it, but a different, more sleep inducing tired. We fall in bed at night and are just done. We both know it is because we are doing hard, important, necessary work. We are glad we are finally able to address some things we've each needed to deal with and have put off until now. We are also sleepy. And a little frustrated we don't make faster progress (Well, I know I am. I probably should speak for Bob. Can you tell impatience is 1 of our shortcomings?). I always thought breaking free of my unhealthy behaviors would be exciting and freeing--and I can see that it will be eventually. Right now though, it is just plum exhausting. Who knew becoming a new Me would wear me out so much? Whew. Must nap. (Not really, but I do have to go.)

So that is what we're doing around here lately. You?

A Formative Part of My Journey

****Warning, this will not be a particularly cheery post. It's about death mostly. You've been warned.
My life has been shaped by death from the beginning. The week before I was born my aunt Bobbie--my mother's oldest sister--died after a long battle with breast cancer. She left behind 6 children. My family travelled a long distance to the town she lived in for the wake and funeral, and then when they came home Mom went into labor. I know my birth, though it brought her great and true joy, is also mixed up with her grief over losing her sister. I'm not sure it can be categorized as an auspicious start.
During a conversation with some friends yesterday I started thinking. I'm not sure why, but it seems I have been exposed to more death and loss than many people my age in this country and I wanted to write about it. I'm going to start with a depressing list, and see where it leads me. It is by no means exhaustive, as I am going to try to stick with events about which I have strong memories and emotions.

• When I was 8 there was a boy in my class named Chaz. He was incredibly tall--5'2" and very kind. I didn't know him well but a close family friend was very close friends with him so we played together occasionally. That summer he was hit by a car and killed in a family member's yard (his family member, not mine). It was a pretty big deal in our little town and my friend J--his close friend--was deeply grieved. This is my first clear memory of loss, though I know I lost several extended family members prior to this time. 
• When I was 12 my friend J(the same J as above) lost his mother, Eve, to a rare blood disorder. I don't really know what to say about it all, except that I can remember J didn't cry, and verbally expressed his refusal to do so. My mother and brother K were both very distraught on his behalf and the extremity of their grief frightened me. I specifically chose not to attend the funeral because my Dad couldn't come and I was afraid I wouldn't know what to do to comfort them. 
• When I was about 13, Brenda, the girl who lived at the end of our road was killed in a horrific car crash right in front of her house. Her car was struck by an oncoming semi and caught fire. Our house was more than a mile away over hilly, wooded land. Despite the distance and terrain we could see the flames from our yard. Her father and several neighbors saw it happen, but were powerless to reach her because of the fire. I remember it was so crowded that 2 of my brothers and I had to sit in the basement of the church for the funeral while our parents were upstairs with my youngest brother K because he was a pall bearer. He was 16. I remember sitting in a room full of my future high school teachers, again unsure of the proper response to so many authority figures in my life all weeping together. The spanish teacher told me I was very strong because I ended up sitting at a separate table from my brothers by myself and didn't fall apart. Brenda was about 17. I don't think I have ever seen her mother ever since without seeing her cry.
• 2 years later 2 boys from my high school died in a car wreck caused by their own drunk driving. Tom & John were popular, kind, funny, and talented. The week of their funerals my brother K also refused to cry. I remember seeing probably half our school sobbing into his shoulders for days. One night he couldn't bear it any more and wept almost hysterically for what seemed like hours. My Dad sat with him the whole time holding him and speaking calmly in a low voice, like he'd done when K was small and had nightmares or fever-induced hallucinations. At that point in time K and Dad could barely stand to spend 5 minutes in the same room without having a shouting match. But not that night. 
• At least 4 other kids died in our small town during my middle and high school years. 2 of cancer, 1 of a heart defect, 1 in another car accident. I think I'm forgetting someone, but none of them were people I was particularly close to; I list them because I've been told this is a high number of child deaths for 1 community. I also know numerous other family members passed on during this time, most notably my maternal grandmother and 2 of my great aunts who I dearly loved. But I remember their wakes and funerals being very different than those of my friends and classmates. Grandma and Aunt Virgie and Aunt Marie were old, and had been sick for extended periods of time. Their deaths seemed more "natural" to me, and less scary. 

• In college a friend committed suicide. He was a beautiful young man. H was strong, funny, compelling in a strange way I cannot describe but everyone who met him understood. He was also secretly struggling with depression of some kind. What I remember most about losing H is that there were times I'd noticed he seemed "off" or lonely and I never said anything. H claimed he didn't believe in God and hated church, and he was really really "cool". He was also my boyfriend's best friend. I didn't want to embarass myself reaching out to him. Even when I was sure God wanted me to do it. I was too scared of what he might think of me. He died shortly after the boyfriend and I broke up and it was all just really painful and tragic. I've tried to never forget my horror at never knowing if my obedience to God's prompting might have helped him. It keeps me honest.

• When I was 24 my husband showed up at my job unexpectedly one Friday morning. He told me my oldest brother B had just called to tell him my Dad died. I've written about that other places, and I don't think I can do so again just now. But it shaped me. 

*******Sidebar. At this point in the post I've had to take a break from weepy remembering to deal with Pixie wetting Kid's bed during her nap and Sunshine somehow getting poop on her arm during her post nap diaper change. The juxtaposition of these events with my emotional state is so absurd, I had to include them****

I'm not sure what the purpose of this post was, or is, even should be; but I do know these people and the loss of each of them has shaped my life and how I see the world. And after reading this post about one of the Connecticut shooting victims and his mother, I wanted to be sure I made a point to stop and remember. I've never lost a full term, outside my womb child and I hope I won't. But as a mother, I stand with Noah's mother and promise to remember that everyone was once someone's little boy or girl. And to hide from the pain and awful-ness may do them and me a disservice.

And I will offer this list, as complete as I can make it, of those I've lost and won't forget.
Chaz, Eve, Grandma Hadley, Virg, Marie, Cousin John, Cousin Dennis, Jim L, Jim M, Anne, Mary Catherine, Leona, Stephen, Margaret, Brenda, Tom, John, Heather, Tony, Kevin, Tammy, Elna, Carl, Craig, Hans, Marv, Wyburn, Robbie, Rich, Dale, Kenneth, Mary, Rachel, Maurice, Margaret H, Mira, Declan, & Paul.

I will remember you. Always.

Not much to say

I honestly don't have much to write today, but I just feel compelled to post something. I am trying this year to pay more attention to the little internal nudges and pokes I feel sometimes, and doing something about them instead of brushing them off. I feel as though it helps me stay more centered, more in touch with what my heart actually wants rather than what I feel pressured to accomplish. So I am writing on my blog, even though there are floors to sweep and laundry to fold and some projects I should finish soon.

And yes, I realize I have posted in the past about my tendency toward laziness and this may seem like an excuse to cultivate a poor habit. Maybe it is, but I don't think so this time. The last several months I have been weaning myself off a fairly serious tv addiction, and off aimless web surfing just to kill time. I've actually done quite well at it and I'm proud of myself. :) At first it just seemed like I was bored more often or did a better job of engaging with my kids. And those are ok--I'm a firm believer that a little boredom helps kickstart the creative parts of our brains and thus serves a purpose--but lately I've just noticed that my mind feels less crowded. Less hectic and over-full of pointless noise. I'm an introvert with a predisposition to introspection, so the inside of my head often feels noisy and chaotic to me. Which I suppose may sound weird, but whatever I'm weird. Get used to it.

Anyway, all this selective deprivation has left me much more room to breathe emotionally and mentally and I LOVE it! I feel so much less like my brain will explode, so much less like hiding from my life on the days things are crazy(which is pretty often with 4 kids). It just feels nice to not be in a constant state of frenzied anxiety over my inability to process all the input i was receiving each day. A lot of evenings, Bob and I just sit in our living room and chat while I fold laundry, or even just sit. Or he reads on his ipad while I read a book. It's quiet and relaxing and I savor the feeling of cozy, contented evenings with no useless noise.

And less useless noise means I more often have time and space to hear the still, small voice inside me that prompts me to reach out to others, or to pray or serve or just care for those I love better. I notice more when my kids behaviors may need deeper examination than it seems at first glance; I can keep my cool when they test me and give them a firm, loving, gentle response instead of shouting; I remember to hug them often and compliment them on their positive qualities, not just correct the negatives; I think I love my husband better too and see him more clearly for who God made him. Overall I like it and I plan to keep it up.

So in summary, our parents were right and tv does rot my brain. Who knew? :)

A New Year

It is 2013. I am still surprised how quickly time flies amidst the goings and doings and daily tasks that are life with 4 kids. Yet this year and I am glad to start anew. 2012 was a long year. Very long. Not always in a bad way either; many of the struggles which hung on my soul like a weight last January are only a distant memory and I am very thankful for it. Bob, the kids and I just spent nearly 14 days all together as a family and we had a wonderful time. We saw some relatives I never see enough, and enjoyed every minute. He went back to work today and even though it is sad, a return to our more normal schedule is due and will benefit us all.

However, so much of 2012 was spent processing heartbreak and change and conquering the fears that overwhelm when tragedy and evil attack. I live in Colorado and I love it here; but it was a tough year for our state and nothing can change that. There were terrible fires all summer. The Aurora shooting. More fires. The election cycle--which seemed unending. Jessica Ridgeway. Several other horrendously violent crimes in our neighborhood and city during the fall. And then Sandy Hook. It didn't happen here but it hit me hard and made year end celebrating bittersweet to say the least. So I am not sad the year is over and we can begin again. I know how badly we all need it.

Last year I chose a word for my year. A word to encourage and challenge me and help me focus on moving forward rather than dwelling on struggles or sadness or the past. My word for 2012 was Healing and it was perfect. I needed to spend time allowing the Great Physician access to my deep wounds and let Him bring light and health to so many things. And He did, because He is good and loves me. I am grateful for a year to recuperate and grow new things in my life. To choose life and light and forgiveness and grace. To Heal. I needed it. And I truly feel different this year. Last January I could never have imagined looking forward with such hope and joy to what life may have in store for me. I just couldn't have envisioned a heart like this inside me. But now I have it and I need to put it to good use.

So this year I will choose a new word. Well a phrase really, because when I thought it over what kept coming up was how thankful I am for being awakened to the joy in my life. And my need for gratitude and joy in every single piece of my life. Even (especially?) the dark, difficult, painful pieces. My phrase for 2013 is GRATEFUL JOY. I hope to live in grateful joy each day regardless of circumstance, trial, or struggle. I will be thankful and seek joy. Always. And if I fail I will get up and choose it again the next minute and the next and the one after that until it is more of a habit and less of a choice. I am excited to see what this year may bring. What life, what light, what new adventures and experiences.

May your year begin with joy, love and hope.