I've been avoiding this thankfulness bandwagon for awhile now. It's not because I'm not thankful. I just feel like something this important should be intricately woven into every breath I take. When did gratitude become trendy?
2 Thessalonians 5:18--Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.
In everything?
Yes.
Always? Absolutely.
Yet, I have to admit that finishing a Bible Study today caused me to take pause and reflect over the sum of my life. Surely, I am grateful for it. For all of it. All those "I should have done that differently" times God has used to bring me to this place. The forks in the road of indecision, the intersections of my life's relationships, the stop signs, where God gently whispered, "Not yet. Not now." I am thankful for all of it.
Sometimes, I feel like I am careening down the interstate of parenthood, begging God to let me off at the next exit. And just when I think I'm never going to get where I want to go, I crest a hill and see a beautiful sunrise brimming over the horizon. That's where I am now. The scenery is breathtaking. The company is energizing, and the sun is warm. I welcome the bends in the road, the potholes, and even the blind driveways. In those, God surprises me with things I never thought possible. Thank you, Lord, for your many gifts.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
May I Have a Word?
As a little girl, I clutched a treasured picture book. I still remember the bright yellow background and the red ink outline of a chicken and an egg on its cover. The tattered corners betrayed my selfish possession of it. I loved this story without words. Though many other books crowded the shelf in my room, I retrieved this one most often. And despite the lure of Dick and Jane and Dr. Seuss and all the Little Golden Books, I preferred to narrate the illustrations myself. I didn't need my mom or dad to make time to share it with me. I could "read" this book all by myself!
As I grew older my verbal capabilities matured, but because I could not yet write, this little tale became my very best friend. Soon, I mastered my letters, and in time written words and sentences emerged. One day, I grabbed the book and wrote my own story, marking up those pages filled with promise with a beginning, middle, and end all my own. The mystery and the magic faded as I directed the plot's outcome. But a new story unfolded--one I had created and could now share with anyone willing to open the book and find what I had already discovered and recorded.
Even now, I love words. I love how they have the ability to inform, influence, and inspire. A series of sounds strung together describe events, arouse desire, and foster encouragement or dismantle it. They shape our thoughts. They wrap us in warmth. At the same time, we discover things about the world that chill us to the bone. What power they hold!
Nathaniel Hawthorne was exactly right when he said, "Words — so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them."
As I grew older my verbal capabilities matured, but because I could not yet write, this little tale became my very best friend. Soon, I mastered my letters, and in time written words and sentences emerged. One day, I grabbed the book and wrote my own story, marking up those pages filled with promise with a beginning, middle, and end all my own. The mystery and the magic faded as I directed the plot's outcome. But a new story unfolded--one I had created and could now share with anyone willing to open the book and find what I had already discovered and recorded.
Even now, I love words. I love how they have the ability to inform, influence, and inspire. A series of sounds strung together describe events, arouse desire, and foster encouragement or dismantle it. They shape our thoughts. They wrap us in warmth. At the same time, we discover things about the world that chill us to the bone. What power they hold!
Nathaniel Hawthorne was exactly right when he said, "Words — so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them."
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Sensory Overload
The boys bicker and tumble during an indoor football game.Upstairs, a herd of elephants threatens to plunge through the ceiling.
My daughter coughs and snorts. She blows her nose a hundred times.
The toddler tugs my shirt, providing commentary on everything from breakfast cereal to today's dance lesson.
Toys and clothes lay in a scattered heap.
My husband wants to know why I'm riveted to this spot.
Someone just asked me to tell them the answer to 7 x 8.
Someone who should know.
The dog whimpers at my feet. Now, what does he want?
I just want to sit here and write.
Alone.
In the stillness.
In the silence.
Yet unrelenting noise karate chops even the tiniest moments.
The constant noise threatens to envelop my withering body. As I write, imaginary headphones slip over my frazzled hair, but unfortunately they miss my ears. My body cringes as my shoulders tighten. I want to curl up in a little ball and roll myself right out of here.
Earlier today, I took a shower and dried my hair, then plugged in both a straightening and a curling iron. The outlet switched off, and I had to push the "reset" button. Sometimes, I feel like I wish I had one. No button here. The buttons people press just set me off. In a bad way. I have sensory overload, and I don't know what to do about it.
I feel like I need a solid two hours a day just so I can reset my attitude and reprogram my heart. When my kids were little, life was hard, but naps came every afternoon at 2:00. Now, I have a young son who sets his alarm for 6:00 AM and an older daughter who often doesn't finish homework until nearly 10:00. In all that in-between time, a little person follows me wherever I go. And though I welcome my children with open arms, I realize sadly that I often don't give them my very best. Like a laboratory rat, I'm poked and prodded, and I feel so...prickly. These sixteen hour days are enough to send an introvert like me straight to the funny farm.
So, what can I do when I don't have time to do the things I want?
For one, I can choose gratitude. I can choose to be thankful for this season of life. After all, it is "just a season". Another trip around the sun, and maybe the boy will choose sleep instead of an early morning cartoon. Maybe the girl will figure out how to get her work done without so much emotion mixed in. And of course, even sooner than I think, the little one will be in school everyday. Everyday. Am I really ready for that?
Secondly, I need to make a conscious effort not to waste the time I do have. If that means getting up at 5:00, then that's exactly what I'll do. That precious hour gives me time to exercise or pray. Or both. Before chaos ensues and in between the moanings of the tweenager, I can engage in real conversation with another adult or lose myself in the pages of a book. I love this quote by Marilyn vos Savant: She says, "Be in the habit of getting up bright and early on the weekends. Why waste such precious time in bed?" Oh, I do love to sleep! Yet I need to decide which reaps the best benefit: time spent alone or time spent in slumber. The challenges of the weekend will determine my choice.
Lastly, I want to plan intentional time away, to give myself a little space to recharge. If that means missing a football game or scheduling a sitter to take a child to a friend's birthday party, I just may need to do it. Pulling back momentarily saves me from getting overloaded. I don't want sparks to fly in our house because of me. Getting out resets my attitude like nothing else. These four walls threaten to suffocate me, so sometimes I just have to open the door and breathe deeply of the outside air. It's vital.
We ordered pizza tonight. I saved an hour by not having to cook and those precious minutes, though still pretty raucous, gave me the pleasure of being able to pen this post. My fingers pressed the keys, each one a little reset button for my soul. The football game is over. The multiplication dilemma has been solved. The dog is sleeping peacefully in his bed. And I'm ready for tomorrow--fully charged.
My daughter coughs and snorts. She blows her nose a hundred times.
The toddler tugs my shirt, providing commentary on everything from breakfast cereal to today's dance lesson.
Toys and clothes lay in a scattered heap.
My husband wants to know why I'm riveted to this spot.
Someone just asked me to tell them the answer to 7 x 8.
Someone who should know.
The dog whimpers at my feet. Now, what does he want?
I just want to sit here and write.
Alone.
In the stillness.
In the silence.
Yet unrelenting noise karate chops even the tiniest moments.
The constant noise threatens to envelop my withering body. As I write, imaginary headphones slip over my frazzled hair, but unfortunately they miss my ears. My body cringes as my shoulders tighten. I want to curl up in a little ball and roll myself right out of here.
Earlier today, I took a shower and dried my hair, then plugged in both a straightening and a curling iron. The outlet switched off, and I had to push the "reset" button. Sometimes, I feel like I wish I had one. No button here. The buttons people press just set me off. In a bad way. I have sensory overload, and I don't know what to do about it.
I feel like I need a solid two hours a day just so I can reset my attitude and reprogram my heart. When my kids were little, life was hard, but naps came every afternoon at 2:00. Now, I have a young son who sets his alarm for 6:00 AM and an older daughter who often doesn't finish homework until nearly 10:00. In all that in-between time, a little person follows me wherever I go. And though I welcome my children with open arms, I realize sadly that I often don't give them my very best. Like a laboratory rat, I'm poked and prodded, and I feel so...prickly. These sixteen hour days are enough to send an introvert like me straight to the funny farm.
So, what can I do when I don't have time to do the things I want?
For one, I can choose gratitude. I can choose to be thankful for this season of life. After all, it is "just a season". Another trip around the sun, and maybe the boy will choose sleep instead of an early morning cartoon. Maybe the girl will figure out how to get her work done without so much emotion mixed in. And of course, even sooner than I think, the little one will be in school everyday. Everyday. Am I really ready for that?
Secondly, I need to make a conscious effort not to waste the time I do have. If that means getting up at 5:00, then that's exactly what I'll do. That precious hour gives me time to exercise or pray. Or both. Before chaos ensues and in between the moanings of the tweenager, I can engage in real conversation with another adult or lose myself in the pages of a book. I love this quote by Marilyn vos Savant: She says, "Be in the habit of getting up bright and early on the weekends. Why waste such precious time in bed?" Oh, I do love to sleep! Yet I need to decide which reaps the best benefit: time spent alone or time spent in slumber. The challenges of the weekend will determine my choice.
Lastly, I want to plan intentional time away, to give myself a little space to recharge. If that means missing a football game or scheduling a sitter to take a child to a friend's birthday party, I just may need to do it. Pulling back momentarily saves me from getting overloaded. I don't want sparks to fly in our house because of me. Getting out resets my attitude like nothing else. These four walls threaten to suffocate me, so sometimes I just have to open the door and breathe deeply of the outside air. It's vital.
We ordered pizza tonight. I saved an hour by not having to cook and those precious minutes, though still pretty raucous, gave me the pleasure of being able to pen this post. My fingers pressed the keys, each one a little reset button for my soul. The football game is over. The multiplication dilemma has been solved. The dog is sleeping peacefully in his bed. And I'm ready for tomorrow--fully charged.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Straight Talk On A Curvy Road
One morning, a few weeks ago, Gavin and I hiked to a place called the House of Dreams. It's a three mile hike to the top of the mountain. All along the way, there are teasing signs that signify the top is close at hand. We approached a small clearing. Light poured through the trees. As I treaded closer, I thought, "Oh, I'm there!" But no, that clearing teased me. We continued to circle the mountain. A little while later, we crested a small hill, and a stone wall emerged. Surely, this was the entrance to the House of Dreams. And yet the top of the hill still eluded us.
Walking hand in hand, we continued our journey. I didn't mind the steady climb. Gavin told me about some boys at camp who are "tapped out" for a special assignment called the The Little Chief Test. The boys undergo a 24-hour challenge that includes a silence ban, building a fire with one match, and a run up this mountain, among other things. They begin the test at midnight the night before and start the run covered in smut from their fires and exhausted from lack of sleep. As we continued our walk, Gavin pointed out various landmarks. He showed me where the various "legs" of the run began and also where many of the boys often give up.
As he was explaining this, we trampled over one last gravelly incline and there ahead of us stood the driveway to the House of Dreams. Finally! The house was modest, yet breathtaking because it's surrounded by lush grass, a lovely garden and a beautiful view of the surrounding mountains. As we crested the hill, my eyes drank in the beauty from the perspective of that secluded hilltop. I could see for miles! The clouds blanketed the horizon in billowy beauty. We perched ourselves on a quaint old tree swing, basking in the breeze of a gorgeous fall day. If only those boys had known that they were that close, I bet they wouldn't have given up!
I began to think back through the years--projects I began but never finished, friendships I pursued but didn't cultivate, and dreams I played out in my head, but never realized in life. I wonder how close I had been to the end? I wonder what I missed because I gave up too soon. I reflected on the obstacles and wondered if I made the right decisions.
Proverbs 3:5-6 says Commit thy way unto the Lord and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.
I have always loved that verse, but it took on new meaning for me that day. How many times had I committed to a project or made plans to pursue something based on my own understanding of what lay ahead of me? How many times had I become sidetracked, strayed off course, or stumbled across a roadblock in my pursuit of success and happiness? Like those boys, I couldn't see the future. I felt tired. My legs couldn't carry me to the top of the mountain. I wasn't where I was supposed to be because I didn't ask God to show me the way.
The good news is that in the last three years, I have seen God answer my prayers by showing me clearly the way he wants me to go. I've prayed, "God, show me my place here" and he has done it. I've prayed, "Lord, give me friends who will help me be more like you" and he has done it. As I have leaned in God's direction, he has made my paths straight. When I look at him, I can see more clearly where to go. The path isn't curvy, and I can begin by going confidently in the direction of his leading. I'm not scared. I don't worry about what I cannot see. It's enough for me that God sees, and he is with me.
Walking hand in hand, we continued our journey. I didn't mind the steady climb. Gavin told me about some boys at camp who are "tapped out" for a special assignment called the The Little Chief Test. The boys undergo a 24-hour challenge that includes a silence ban, building a fire with one match, and a run up this mountain, among other things. They begin the test at midnight the night before and start the run covered in smut from their fires and exhausted from lack of sleep. As we continued our walk, Gavin pointed out various landmarks. He showed me where the various "legs" of the run began and also where many of the boys often give up.
As he was explaining this, we trampled over one last gravelly incline and there ahead of us stood the driveway to the House of Dreams. Finally! The house was modest, yet breathtaking because it's surrounded by lush grass, a lovely garden and a beautiful view of the surrounding mountains. As we crested the hill, my eyes drank in the beauty from the perspective of that secluded hilltop. I could see for miles! The clouds blanketed the horizon in billowy beauty. We perched ourselves on a quaint old tree swing, basking in the breeze of a gorgeous fall day. If only those boys had known that they were that close, I bet they wouldn't have given up!
I began to think back through the years--projects I began but never finished, friendships I pursued but didn't cultivate, and dreams I played out in my head, but never realized in life. I wonder how close I had been to the end? I wonder what I missed because I gave up too soon. I reflected on the obstacles and wondered if I made the right decisions.
Proverbs 3:5-6 says Commit thy way unto the Lord and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.
I have always loved that verse, but it took on new meaning for me that day. How many times had I committed to a project or made plans to pursue something based on my own understanding of what lay ahead of me? How many times had I become sidetracked, strayed off course, or stumbled across a roadblock in my pursuit of success and happiness? Like those boys, I couldn't see the future. I felt tired. My legs couldn't carry me to the top of the mountain. I wasn't where I was supposed to be because I didn't ask God to show me the way.
The good news is that in the last three years, I have seen God answer my prayers by showing me clearly the way he wants me to go. I've prayed, "God, show me my place here" and he has done it. I've prayed, "Lord, give me friends who will help me be more like you" and he has done it. As I have leaned in God's direction, he has made my paths straight. When I look at him, I can see more clearly where to go. The path isn't curvy, and I can begin by going confidently in the direction of his leading. I'm not scared. I don't worry about what I cannot see. It's enough for me that God sees, and he is with me.
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