Warm and Happy Home

I have been having my worst parenting moments ever of my year plus of motherhood. Eloise started the week out sick, and it’s just gotten worse from there. My patience is not thin, it’s gone. I kicked a stuffed animal this morning. I know my anger is uncalled for and sinful but OH! I am struggling to overcome it. El is getting into everything. All. Day. Long. I want my vocabulary towards her to include more than “no”, “stop” or “don’t touch”. Timeout is too frequent for her, and I need timeout more than she does.

I bought a candle yesterday called “Warm and Happy Home”. In my mind I would light this candle and my house would smell wonderful, my husband would come home to a delicious dinner on the table, a baby who is playing contentedly, and a wife who is filled with adoration towards her family. I’ve been disappointed that those effects have not yet materialized.

Instead all I feel is frustration and I want someone to take my baby from me just for a day. Maybe even an hour. I’ve had three students interview me this week on spiritual disciplines and leadership, and I feel like this is probably the worst week of my life to be trying to tell someone what it looks like to walk out in spiritual ANYTHING.

Nobody tells you parenting is THIS hard.

reflections from a tired heart

I’ve been home five days now. They’ve been busy days, cloudy days, tired days. I’m worn out from wearing too many hats. I’m worn out from confusion, frustration. I want to curl up in bed and sleep away the tiredness, the feeling in my chest that I can’t get enough air.

I thought that when I got to Thailand it would feel like I had come home. It didn’t. Then I thought that when I got back to Minnesota it would feel like I had come home. It still didn’t.  Home isn’t here, and while there have been times in life when I have understood that, now isn’t one of those times. Isn’t it odd how sometimes we forget lessons we’ve already learned? I feel like I’m in a constant state of relearning, and for once I just want to have arrived…

going home

Emotions of enormous proportions were rising up in me last night. Matt and I were driving home after some errands, and I was thinking about our impending trip across the ocean as I gazed out the window. I couldn't help but feel, as I thought about returning to Thailand after an almost 19-month absence, that I was going home. I don't know quite why the thought was striking me so forcefully, so suddenly; but there it was, overwhelming me enough to cause tears in the corners of my eyes--the thought that in less than 3 weeks, I would be going home. Perhaps you've felt this feeling also--a feeling that doesn't quite compare to anything else in the world--that your heart will soon be where it belongs, or where it always has been, even if you've physically been elsewhere.

The months that I've been stateside have been…. overwhelming. So much has happened since flying back from Thailand on December 17, 2012, and I honestly don't think I've processed a lot of it. I arrived back to a "normal" American life, which I wasn't quite sure how to handle, and then life took about 27 sharp turns that I wasn't expecting, but I charged into them anyway. Now here I am--19 months later--married, stepping into new positions at work that I never envisioned, trying to figure out how to be a wife, an employee, a witness for Christ and His Kingdom, and live without the 4 women who have been my closest friends all my life. It's been…. challenging. And though I've had friends to help me through the changes, they've all happened so quickly that I don't think I've really worked through them. So then times happen like the one yesterday, when I finally take a moment to think about something in my life, and it hits me in a way I certainly didn't expect.

I have a feeling that the two weeks I will be in Thailand will be very emotional ones for me, so I would appreciate your prayers as I prepare. Pray for me that I actually would prepare my heart, because lately there hasn't been much of preparing anything except for dinner and rubrics. That probably makes no sense to you, but it's what consumes my life right now, and I'd like to get beyond it.

God is my shepherd. I won't be wanting.

25

I'm two days away from twenty-five. That used to sound old to me, and even now some days when I think about the fact that I live in Minnesota, work two part-time jobs, and have no idea what the rest of my life is going to look like, I freak out that I'm hitting a quarter of a century and still feel so clueless sometimes (not to mention I live in an icy barren wasteland [slight exaggeration]). But then I realize that my husband is 31 and pretty much in the same boat, so then I feel okay. Ha. Just kidding, baby.

I was a college student for six years of my recent life. You know what that means? It means I had a pretty solid direction for a good chunk of time (granted, I changed my direction halfway through college and thus added 2 more years on to the "plan"). The last couple years of college life were especially intense, so honestly I didn't give much thought to the fact that the yellow brick road I was on was quickly turning into gravel and mud. Aka, what the heck was next in life?? By some amazing "luck," (*grace/blessing/favor) I got married the year I graduated college, which was not in my plan, but was a very welcome turn of events. But now that means that instead of discovering what's next in life for me, I suddenly have to try to figure out what's next in life for me and another person. Whaaat? 

BUT, there is a plus side to having 2 people figure something out together--you make fewer dumb moves. At least, you hope you do. Two people with two ideas, two perspectives, two motives, and two beliefs that they are right makes for a fantastic (albeit, sometimes messy) equation to discovering what to do in life. Or, it means that you talk a lot about all your ideas and then still end up clueless. But I have faith that one day we'll get it right. Until then, we pray, we dream, we go for things until we end up at dead ends, and then we try something else--all while remaining faithful in the tasks before us (read: working multiple jobs, making dinner, cleaning the house, investing in relationships, studying the Word, and doing homework).

I guess what I'm trying to say is, life is good, and I'm really glad that I have someone to celebrate it with. I think that in another few years (or 50) I'll be able to look back on all our adventures and clueless, sleepless nights and be able to say that I lived well. So here's to 25, to life with Matthew, to being led by the Spirit of the living God, and muddy, messy roads which I am sure will lead to the most amazing views.

a night off

Four twenty found me bounding out of the office, squinting in the bright sunshine and loving the spring weather that took two months too long to arrive. By 4:35 I was making my way down the trails by the Minnesota river, my too-small bike--a hand-me-down--bouncing along the packed dirt and over exposed tree roots. It felt so good to be out. At first I had my headphones in, but soon enough I took them out, finding that the sounds of nature were the best soundtrack to a spring bike ride.

I've been working too much lately, and have had little time for physical activity. This was my first night in 7 days that I hadn't worked my second job. I'd forgotten what an evening off looks like. It looks like a trail ride by the river, weaving through trees at speeds my mother wouldn't approve of. It looks like heating up leftovers from Easter for dinner (because who wants to cook on their first night off?). It looks like doing laundry… because it had to get done. It looks like a quiet house, open windows, and gentle breezes as I actually have time to think, pray, and consider the purpose of my life in the stillness.

And that's where you find me, sitting at my kitchen table, pondering what my life is to be about. Pray that I find answers. In the meantime, I think I'll eat some apple pie and ice cream. Because it's my night off.

days

I wonder if the neighbors can hear me in the morning. Lately, between the time my husband leaves for work and when I do (usually about 20 minutes), I’ve been turning my house into a concert hall for… well, mostly for Josh Garrels. I’ll turn the speakers up loud, hit shuffle, and continue my morning routine while Josh and I praise the Lord together. It’s exhilarating. It’s enthusiasm-building. It helps prepare me for whatever I will face in the day to come.

Afternoons are mostly a drag. By two or three I’m tired of staring at a computer screen, feeling my brain cells dissipating before my eyes (or at least it feels like it; and no, I’m not being dramatic).  Pleasant afternoons in the office are afternoons when I feel full of purpose—like if I weren’t there some very important work would go undone. That doesn’t happen often, but God calls us to remain faithful in the little things, not just when we feel like we’re changing the world.

I spend my evenings laughing with my older friends—all of whom are probably about 50 years my senior. In other words, I’m a waitress at an assisted living home—and I love it. What’s not to enjoy about hearing Harold tell you how the food would be ‘back on the farm,’ or watching Bill—who used to play for the MN Vikings—crack a wry, rare smile when he finds himself funny? The ladies will comment on my beautiful skin: ‘like peaches and cream,’ they’ll say, and I’ll scold them when they try to convince me that because they are wrinkled and grey they are not beautiful anymore. “What do you mean you’re not beautiful? Of course you are. Look, you’re still smiling, which tells me that you’ve not let the pressures and stresses of life make you bitter. That is beautiful.” Some argue, some look at me with gratefulness in their eyes.

All day, Josh Garrels has been in my head, which means all day I’ve been unintentionally singing to the Lord. I like it when thoughts of Jesus get stuck in my head without me trying. ;) My husband and I will turn in together, as I love, and tomorrow will be the same, only so much different. I am blessed.

Undisturbed

Marriage is exponentially more difficult than singleness. I'm still getting used to another person having the power to affect me in such a way as I now experience. Perhaps I am exposing my own weakness in even allowing myself to be so effected by another's words, moods or unintended non-verbal communication.

All week I have been thinking of the "beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit."  I'm finding it challenging to remain unaffected by less than perfect circumstances. But why should they derail me, agitate me, change my good mood? The Greek word for quiet in 1 Peter 3:4 is hesychios, a word derived from hedraios, which means 'firm, immovable, steadfast -- of those who are fixed in purpose.' It also means 'sitting or sedentary.' Peter describes a picture of a calmness of heart--not getting worked up--but being set on a purpose and immovable in that. It reminds me of a line I used to quote from Jane Eyre--who's author quoted it from Thomas Moore: "sitting in sunshine, calm and sweet."

My husband--a good man--doesn't always do things the way that I want him to, but that is no reason to become agitated. It is when he doesn't do things "right" that I have the opportunity to display the kind of beauty that the Lord loves. Thus is the gentle and quiet spirit. The undisturbed one, though tumultuous storms may roar around her, remains unmoved within them.