I spent some time hand-stitching curtains the other day. It was a nice head-clearing experience, a rare quiet moment of musing for me, now that I have three children. I am still in a head-haze most of the time, even though my three month old sleeps through the night more times than not... I still need some more time to recoup all that lost sleep, I suppose.
But as I stitched away with my mother's... (augh, what's that metal thing you put on your finger??? there's the brain fog for you!), thinking of course of my grandmother, and wondering about her life, and her mother's life... I considered that hand stitching is to a sewing machine as bread-making is to a bread maker; as manual gardening is to a roto-tiller. There is great delight in working with your hands... I love that feeling! I am certainly not a gardener (yet), I am just beginning to bake bread (insert having a baby here), but I do love to sew. It has been my saving grace, my go-to creative outlet for the year. It is keeping me sane. I think God made us to find satisfaction and joy in these exercises, essential to our ancestors' livelihood. Each of these modern-day "hobbies" seem to be making a resurgence. This brings me joy and hope for my daughter and her daughter! I very much intend to instill these things into future generations. Mark my words, one day I will teach sewing classes!
Perhaps soon I will post some of my handiwork. :)
Oh my, I just realized I have 30 minutes to feed the baby and get the boys ready and get out the door.
Hope to be back soon...
September 22, 2010
April 01, 2010
An Unexhausted Treasure
I've been lying in bed trying to sleep for an hour and a half now (yes, I go to bed at 9.30), so I figure it's time to write it out.
My heart is spinningly full tonight - full of concern and wonderings and prayers for friends. Three friends in particular, with whom I spoke to in a three-hour window this afternoon: a lonely friend making her way in a new life, a 39-week pregnant friend praying her breech baby will turn before she has to have a c-section, and a tired friend whose son (the oldest of six) is very, very sick. Three friends whose courage and grace under fire continually amaze and inspire me, even when they are having an easy day! I carry friends' experiences and heartaches very close to my chest - it is a strength and a weakness, I think, and most definitely how I am made. I have learned through the years to let Jesus do the heavy lifting, which takes the pressure off and brings great hope, but does not change the fact that people hurt, and so I hurt with them. I think it is my way of interceding -- as long as I keep it in check with the Lord -- and it is an honor.
Especially the last couple years, with every encounter with pain and sickness, I have reflected it back to God- as in, "what do You think, being completely good and loving, about this crappy situation right here, and how do You figure?" I have found this works better than ignoring the elephant in the room or keeping a list of offenses against the One who knows it all, assuming that He is ok with it, or even allowed it. Sometimes it's more of a "how the *@!? do You figure?" but hey, it's an open dialogue, which I like, and I think He likes it too. We are building relational capacity, if you will.
Speaking of capacity, one of my life scriptures is... a reference I can never remember... nice. Hold on.
Ok, Luke 12.23: "Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will not be exhausted, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys."
Another version says, "Make yourselves purses that do not wear out."
I think of this on these nights when my heart feels like it can't hold it all. I imagine my fingers intertwined with His as we work on my purse. Strengthening the stitches, stretching the leather, pouring more into my heart with confidence and joy -- not only more needs, but more grace, more wisdom, more understanding, more effective prayers, more strength and endurance to weather such storms, including my own. I long for Him to teach me how to sell my possessions and freely give, literally and figuratively, because I feel so very far from understanding how to do that. I trust that these times in all of our lives are building sure treasure troves that we can all pull on for each other, as we reach for the things of heaven to become reality here in this life.
I was asking the Lord about my own sickness a couple days ago -- how does He figure, and what am I supposed to do about it, and I could use some hope here instead of silence! I saw His hands on my chest and my upper back, and felt Him encouraging me to let it go -- that if it is something I can't control, then there is no use in trying to fix myself, and no use in blaming myself when I take a turn for the worse. And no use blaming Him, either. Then I came across a promise in Ps 16: "You will make known to me the path of Life." Which to me spoke to the aspects of living with asthma, for example, that I can control... so even there, I am not on my own. Which is what He was saying - to let it go and trust HIM to do the figuring out and the work and the worrying and the holding-together of my life when I find it difficult to breathe, and wonder if I always will. Literally. Like right now.
So Lord, for my lungs, and for the tired, confused, lonely and sick ones close to my heart tonight, I just want to say that You are good, and that I trust that our purses won't break, and that there is and will be enough. Come be more than enough for us tonight - hold us, heal us, illumine the path of Life to us, fill us up so that your love and truth and unfailing treasure redeems and soothes and pushes out all that we carry that is not founded in Your love. It's your love that is enough - it never fails.
Love never fails.
My heart is spinningly full tonight - full of concern and wonderings and prayers for friends. Three friends in particular, with whom I spoke to in a three-hour window this afternoon: a lonely friend making her way in a new life, a 39-week pregnant friend praying her breech baby will turn before she has to have a c-section, and a tired friend whose son (the oldest of six) is very, very sick. Three friends whose courage and grace under fire continually amaze and inspire me, even when they are having an easy day! I carry friends' experiences and heartaches very close to my chest - it is a strength and a weakness, I think, and most definitely how I am made. I have learned through the years to let Jesus do the heavy lifting, which takes the pressure off and brings great hope, but does not change the fact that people hurt, and so I hurt with them. I think it is my way of interceding -- as long as I keep it in check with the Lord -- and it is an honor.
Especially the last couple years, with every encounter with pain and sickness, I have reflected it back to God- as in, "what do You think, being completely good and loving, about this crappy situation right here, and how do You figure?" I have found this works better than ignoring the elephant in the room or keeping a list of offenses against the One who knows it all, assuming that He is ok with it, or even allowed it. Sometimes it's more of a "how the *@!? do You figure?" but hey, it's an open dialogue, which I like, and I think He likes it too. We are building relational capacity, if you will.
Speaking of capacity, one of my life scriptures is... a reference I can never remember... nice. Hold on.
Ok, Luke 12.23: "Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will not be exhausted, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys."
Another version says, "Make yourselves purses that do not wear out."
I think of this on these nights when my heart feels like it can't hold it all. I imagine my fingers intertwined with His as we work on my purse. Strengthening the stitches, stretching the leather, pouring more into my heart with confidence and joy -- not only more needs, but more grace, more wisdom, more understanding, more effective prayers, more strength and endurance to weather such storms, including my own. I long for Him to teach me how to sell my possessions and freely give, literally and figuratively, because I feel so very far from understanding how to do that. I trust that these times in all of our lives are building sure treasure troves that we can all pull on for each other, as we reach for the things of heaven to become reality here in this life.
I was asking the Lord about my own sickness a couple days ago -- how does He figure, and what am I supposed to do about it, and I could use some hope here instead of silence! I saw His hands on my chest and my upper back, and felt Him encouraging me to let it go -- that if it is something I can't control, then there is no use in trying to fix myself, and no use in blaming myself when I take a turn for the worse. And no use blaming Him, either. Then I came across a promise in Ps 16: "You will make known to me the path of Life." Which to me spoke to the aspects of living with asthma, for example, that I can control... so even there, I am not on my own. Which is what He was saying - to let it go and trust HIM to do the figuring out and the work and the worrying and the holding-together of my life when I find it difficult to breathe, and wonder if I always will. Literally. Like right now.
So Lord, for my lungs, and for the tired, confused, lonely and sick ones close to my heart tonight, I just want to say that You are good, and that I trust that our purses won't break, and that there is and will be enough. Come be more than enough for us tonight - hold us, heal us, illumine the path of Life to us, fill us up so that your love and truth and unfailing treasure redeems and soothes and pushes out all that we carry that is not founded in Your love. It's your love that is enough - it never fails.
Love never fails.
February 01, 2010
With the Weight of the World on Our Shoulders…
I submitted the following in an essay contest through my Daughters of the American Revolution chapter. I wrote it with them in mind, but it's certainly for all of us... enjoy!
With the Weight of the World on Our Shoulders…
As women in twenty-first century America, we find ourselves laden with a great deal of expectations and demands as we tend to our families and careers, and try to squeeze our own health and sanity in there somewhere! Our lives often seem complicated and exhausting. Certainly the women of previous centuries felt similar emotions, but in the face of such different circumstances and daily lives. Considering the weight of responsibility on our shoulders, this daughter is beginning to learn how to carry a lighter load and find peace in the midst of the worries of the world.
As mothers and home-keepers, we strive to train up our children to be responsible, grateful, giving, well-rounded citizens. We agonize over the paths (and the inevitable stumbling blocks therewithin) of our children. We dry tears, calm fears, and suffer with our young through long nights of strep throat and stomach viruses. We clip coupons, eat leftovers for lunch, scour the bank statements for errors and pinch every penny to make ends meet. We long for the day that we can sleep through the night, eat a meal in peace, receive appreciation from our children, and maybe even pay for someone else to clean the toilets! And there is never enough time or energy in the day to do all that our hearts desire, much less all that life requires.
As employees, we strive to perform with excellence. (And we make up for the co-workers who do not!) We meet the challenges and character assaults flung at us with courage and determination. We contribute to the greater good of society through our fields of expertise, praying the next generation will be better as a result. We long for the day that we can cross everything off our to-do list, get rid of those tension headaches and stomach ulcers, finally be the one in charge, come home to a nice warm bubble bath, and even sleep in on a weekday, all without a care in the world. And there is never enough time or energy in the day to do all that our hearts desire, much less all that life requires.
As Daughters, we strive to bring to remembrance the sacrifices of those who have gone before us, and give back to our nation what we can in return for the many liberties and blessings she has afforded us. We contribute to the efforts, both great and small, of our chapters and state societies with dedication and gusto. In researching ancestral lines, we see the very signatures and tombstones of the women who have carried society to our time. As we imagine their heartaches and dreams, there is a sense of responsibility to fill our own lives with as much purpose and accomplishment as possible. We dream of making our communities places where every student graduates with a love American History, every citizen is a literate voter, every veteran is healthy and housed, and every soldier comes home safely. And there is never enough time or energy in the day to do all that our hearts desire, much less all that life requires.
But I have recently realized in my own life how heavy these responsibilities become if they are not tempered with the reality of my humanity and the grace of God. As a perfectionist and stay-at-home mom, I had become so entangled by the daily tasks of motherhood that it felt impossible to gain any perspective or hope of the future. Disheartened by the growing list of things to do that, let’s face it, might not ever be checked off! Beating myself up for all the ways I had fallen short. Disappointed by the ugly realities of sickness and pain and death and hate and injustice that at times seems to swallow the world up whole. And for some reason, I felt the need to understand all these mysteries, and own all these responsibilities, both true and false.
I was asking the Lord why it all felt so heavy, and if I was really supposed to feel so tired and heavy-laden in the face of what I considered ‘normal responsibility.’ His response was essentially, “Because it IS too heavy for you.” He is the Infinite One, and I am the limited mortal. By His design, He knows the future and I do not. He knows what my soon-to-be family of five will need in the years to come, and I – while I can worry all day long about what we might need, and if we will have enough - I do not. He knows the days that are left for me. He knows when and how the desires of my heart will be fulfilled. He knows it all.
And so His invitation to me through this realization was this: Let Me carry it for you. Let Me provide what you need. I am the One with unlimited strength. I am the Prince of Peace. I carry the government on My shoulders. At the end of the day, I am the One responsible, and I have chosen you to help Me with a few things, because I enjoy partnering with you and seeing your gifts and passions shine.
So I am learning to read my to-do lists through those glasses; to take off the load and rest for a while. I am deferring to my wise, capable, ever-present help in times of trouble, and taking His lead in what to carry tomorrow. He has counseled us to cease striving, and know that He is God. Of course the world must go on – the alarm clock will blare, the day’s tasks will press upon us (our bodies feeling the strain), challenges will appear without warning, and our toddlers will still have to be potty trained… perhaps I can at least let go of the things that aren’t mine to carry, share what I must carry, and find true joy in the fullness of all the good that has been given to me.
January 11, 2010
A New Year
A New Year
Returning to my true self after being squelched by a “self-imposed wilderness,” as Larry Randolph puts it, I find it once again possible to dream. Once again possible to reach beyond myself, and deeper within myself. Once again certain that there is gold in that deep well, gold worth finding and sharing. A whole new world of expression is available to me – through writing, music, creative arts, sewing… all the things I once knew were mine to shine through, but as of late have given up on almost entirely due to my false understanding of motherhood’s requirements on my soul and body. But the Lord has graciously set me free from that tomb of sorrow, and I find myself in a whole new dimension with my King, learning afresh who I really am, and who He says I am, and that that woman indeed has within her much to rejoice over, much to praise, much to give, much to love. It is a strange dimension to me, but a much simpler one than the world of chaos and despair I have known so well. May I never return!!!
So I write again, and sing again, and dream again, and create again with no expectations beyond who I really am. I am curious what will come out of my heart as I let out the drawstring, reach into the bottom of the grab bag, and pull out a new thing that God put there in the Beginning and has been waiting all this time for me (and others!) to see. I look forward to what God has to say about me and this new world, the truer world in Him. Cas has been asking me lately, “Mom, why are we real?” It penetrates me more every time. Why are we real? I told him so we can love each other and hug each other and have fun together. I don’t really know the answer, and don’t expect to… but I certainly do want to BE real, and FEEL the reality of who My Father is, and who I am to Him.
This is gonna be good.
Returning to my true self after being squelched by a “self-imposed wilderness,” as Larry Randolph puts it, I find it once again possible to dream. Once again possible to reach beyond myself, and deeper within myself. Once again certain that there is gold in that deep well, gold worth finding and sharing. A whole new world of expression is available to me – through writing, music, creative arts, sewing… all the things I once knew were mine to shine through, but as of late have given up on almost entirely due to my false understanding of motherhood’s requirements on my soul and body. But the Lord has graciously set me free from that tomb of sorrow, and I find myself in a whole new dimension with my King, learning afresh who I really am, and who He says I am, and that that woman indeed has within her much to rejoice over, much to praise, much to give, much to love. It is a strange dimension to me, but a much simpler one than the world of chaos and despair I have known so well. May I never return!!!
So I write again, and sing again, and dream again, and create again with no expectations beyond who I really am. I am curious what will come out of my heart as I let out the drawstring, reach into the bottom of the grab bag, and pull out a new thing that God put there in the Beginning and has been waiting all this time for me (and others!) to see. I look forward to what God has to say about me and this new world, the truer world in Him. Cas has been asking me lately, “Mom, why are we real?” It penetrates me more every time. Why are we real? I told him so we can love each other and hug each other and have fun together. I don’t really know the answer, and don’t expect to… but I certainly do want to BE real, and FEEL the reality of who My Father is, and who I am to Him.
This is gonna be good.
August 19, 2009
The Dog Days of Summer
Wow, it's been a while since I've blogged. Instead I have been Facebooking, exercising, sewing, trying to get my kids to bed when it's still light outside, re-organizing closets, cake decorating, doing volunteer work... I guess I have been busy. If it's any consolation.
We have a fish. One of those red fighting ones. His name is - wait for it - Lizard the Turtle the Fish. Or Lizard the Turtle for short. A little background here: Cas's first pet experience was one day long, when we saw a little turtle crossing the road, pulled over, and brought him home to our little plastic wading pool. Cas took every pain to ensure Lizard's comfort ("mom, I'm taking really good care of him!"), giving him a rock to sit on, toys to play with, nice cold hose water... Cas came into the kitchen asking, "mom, where's the turtle food?" and was baffled by my negative response. Anyway, his name was Lizard the Turtle, and we decided he was sad because he missed his family, so dad and son took him down to the creek and let him go, and he was happy, and swam back to his house and his family. A first taste of summers with boys, which I savored delightfully! But the fish is Cas's true first pet, to which he says, "Mom, I really, really, really love having a pet," with deep sincerity and a crumpled brow, followed by a flash of a smile, a nod of the head, and sometimes a wink. Oh, and then a request for two or three or four or five pets, ranging from a mouse to a guinea pig (like Winny) to a giraffe to the favorite, a dog. A little black dog, like Lucy, my sister's sweet cocka-poo.
Cas is more and more apt to make up stories, spend his days caring for certain stuffed animals, and innocently stretch the truth a bit. "I made it up, mom!" Here is one of my favorite stories, coming out of his obsession with being big and growing bigger and taller and stronger, as I suppose every boy deeply desires:
"I will grow up to outer space. I will be a giant soon, and I can't get my head back down to the ground cause giants can't do that. My head and my face will be in outer space but my body is staying down here. My toes and my feet are going to be way down, and I can't get through doors. I am growing, growing, growing so I don't fit inside any more. I will be a giant and grow up to there (chimney top) so I can reach it, and I won't see you or Jake or dad anymore."
mom - "I hope you don't grow that big so I can't see you anymore!"
"But I want to grow up, up, up so my face can go to outer space, and the moon and the stars and outer space. I want to see that stuff, mom! .... One day you can go on a rocket and I will see you (pshhhew) flying by."
Another favorite was one morning when we were in the back yard, and I was pulling weeds, and Cas was a doctor. Jake was busy throwing balls, I'm sure. When Cas is pretending to be something (usually a hero), he must be addressed as that character, and I am "Miss Rachel." Anyway, I was focused on the weeds, and whacked my head on a low cherry tree branch as I stood up. I called for the doctor, and before I turned around, Cas answered in a pretend-voice, "but I can't help you, because I don't have three hands!" I looked and he had his dr. kit in one hand and a big stick in the other. Apparently both were too precious to give up. A minute later, he did come and look in my ears with the knee-knocker, and pronounced with a sigh, "that's all I can do."
I was gone the evening this one took place, which Jay will probably tell the rest of his life: Jay put the boys to bed and retired to the bonus room. He came down a while later and noticed the back door was open. He found Cas running around in his underwear chasing lightning bugs! Then Jay discovered the real surprise - Cas had pooped in his underwear. He then proceeded to step in it during the tricky process of taking off said soiled underwear. (I must insert here that due to my EXTENSINVE experience in this technique, this part of the story has never happened to me.) You should have seen the look on Jay's face when I came home!!!
That's all I have time for now... Jake's many tales will be recorded another day!