Archive for April, 2007
I’m having a do-over day.
For the last two weeks, my husband has been busy with work and hasn’t been around very much. I’ve pushed myself to get everything done, even without the added help. After two weeks, I’m beginning to see just how much I need my husband around. If for no other reason than I can have a little peace while I take my bath.
This morning I woke up with so many back dated things on my to-do list that I just decided to throw it away and start over. I’m giving myself a do-over (remember when you messed up in elementary school playing a game and you got a chance to do it again). I refuse to feel guilty for the list that is screaming at me from the garbage. Instead, I choose to focus on all the all the things that I will accomplish today – since I’m free of the burden of yesterday.
I think that’s kind of what Paul was saying to us when he said not to look back. It seems to me that the more I focus on what I didn’t do yesterday the less I manage to do today.
I’ll be back on my schedule starting first thing tomorrow morning. Today, I’m doing the things that I need, want, and desire to do and just not worrying about the rest of it. Who knows, the kids and I may just have a picnic for lunch and a hotdog roast for dinner so that I don’t have to worry about the condition of the kitchen.
To paraphrase a famous philosopher (for kids at least), “today will be a glorious day.”
April 30th, 2007
Being a good mom is simple. All it really takes is the willingness to put aside my own needs, wants, and desires for those of my children. It only takes having patience and understanding no matter how tired, or frustrated, or over whelmed I may become. It is just a matter of order and organization even in the midst of chaos.
I said it was simple, but I never said it was easy.
As the full time, stay at home mom of three extremely active boys, I know it’s not easy. There are times and even days when it seems more impossible than simple. There are those days when things are so upside down that I would much rather lock myself away in the bedroom wearing earplugs than to deal with all the fussing, fighting, yelling, hitting, and other expressions that inevitably show up when siblings are together for a long period of time.
It is through these same days that I have somehow learned to find peace in the storm.
God has promised that He will never leave me nor forsake me. I know this in my heart. It’s when the craziness surrounds me that it can be hard to believe. He is my strength, my shelter, and my calm. When the noise and the chaos ensue, it’s hard not to feel alone. The blessing really comes when I start to sink and He puts out His hand to lift me back into the boat.
Today is one of those “I’m never going to make it” kind of days. Out of a final desperation, I ran the boys out of the house. It’s nice outside, and they need to enjoy it while they can. An empty house is so quiet. After a few moments of peace, I found myself venturing outside to watch the boys play. They were contently kicking the ball around in the front yard. To add to the picture, the sky was a crisp blue. The soft cool breeze danced through the trees and tossed my hair. “See, I’m here.” It was as if God had taken this moment to touch just me.
When those storm clouds start to gather, I try to take a moment to look for the breeze (or sunset, or fluttering butterflies, etc.), that special touch from God to remind me that no matter what I might be facing, I’m not alone. I search for that much needed lift that will pick me up so that I can carry on. If I look, it’s always there. He never disappoints me and always finds the best way to catch me off guard. But I do have to look.
April 24th, 2007
“We’re so glad you made it back today.” The usher was pumping my hand like he expected to get water.
I smiled politely. “What do you want?” I thought, but I actually said, “Thank you. I’ve been enjoying the services.”
He cast his line. “You ought to think about joining us.”
“You know, I have been thinking about that.” He had a nibble. With lightening precision, the application and pen were thrust towards my hands.
“Huh?” I was startled, but followed the billowing paper.
He guided me to a back room. “We have a place set up just for you to fill this out.”
I looked at the paper the usher was holding. APPLICATION FOR MEMBERSHIP. I could make out the words even from this distance. “Do you mean I need to apply to your church?” The memory of my first job interview swept into my mind – sweaty palms and shaking resume not excluded.
“No. It’s not like that. We just like to know more about you when you join. That way we can make sure we get you plugged in to the right place.” He jiggled the paper a little, and I followed him into the room. From the distance I thought I heard a deep laughter, but I turned my attention back to the form at hand. NAME, ADDRESS, PHONE NUMBER, DATE OF BIRTH. It all seemed harmless. I glanced up at the usher and thought I noticed him in the corner dancing a jig of excitement - he’d hooked one. Then I noticed him still by my side and realized it was just a mirage, or a dream, and I returned my attention to the paper.
HOBBIES, INTERESTS, GIFTS. I guess this kind of information could help them find a place for me. I scribbled down a few of my favorites. The usher was grinning like a possum. Although I’m not completely sure how they do that.
EDUCATIONAL BACKGROUND, SPIRITUAL BACKGROUND. I was stumped. The usher sensed my trepidation and was quick to guide me through this rough point. “That’s nothing’. That’s just what church you’ve been going to before now.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “I guess that does make sense.” There was that laughter again. The usher tapped on the paper to focus my attention down, and I obliged.
EMPLOYER, WORK PHONE, SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER. He could see my anxiety before I had spoken a word. He tapped the paper at the line I was reading. “That’s for your benefit. This ways, the accountant has a record of what you tithe, the percentage of your income, and he can have the tax papers ready faster.”
I heard more laughter, and this time I looked around. The usher seemed oblivious. I decided to read on before doing anymore writing. SHIRT SIZE, PANT SIZE, SHOE SIZE. I shook my head. “That’s for the uniform - for the choir of course.” His grin only worked to make my hair stand on end.
EYE COLOR, HAIR COLOR, WEIGHT. “Is this a misprint?” I was pointing to the weight portion of the list. It all seemed to be getting a bit Stepford for me. I looked over my shoulder, but the coast seemed clear.
“Oh no, it’s important that we have an accurate estimate of the congregation. You see, this church is built on a faulty foundation. In order to keep it from falling in we have to evenly distribute the people. We need to know your weight in order to do that.”
I watched the usher for a moment, but he was serious. This was more in depth than I wanted to get into at the moment. “Um, I think I’ll just take this home with me for now.” I folded the form and put it in my purse. “I don’t want to rush things.” I stood up. His look seemed to crush in on itself. It wasn’t going to happen this time and he knew it. He sighed.
“No, you don’t want to do that.” He gazed longingly at my purse as he walked me to the door. He noticed another new couple out of the corner of his eye – two for one – and I was no more than a story in the back of his mind about the one that got away.
“From now on, I think I’ll find out what I’m getting into before I go getting into it.” I drive away. From the distance, I swear I still hear laughter.
April 20th, 2007
Being submissive to my husband is the wrong way of saying it. I need to be submissive to my Lord, and let everything flow through that. It’s not always fun, and it is rarely easy, but it is that simple. I do everything like God is sitting here watching.
Last night, my husband was late. He didn’t call. He didn’t email. And he hadn’t written anything on the calendar. I was near panic – and that is hard to get from me. When I finally got in touch with him, I was hurt. I wanted to pout, even though the kitchen needed to be picked up. I wanted to mope around, even though the children needed to be bathed and put into bed.
I have been pushing myself these last few weeks to look to God as my source of inspiration, and He has yet to let me down. Last night was no exception. By the time my husband drove up the driveway, the kids where in pajamas, and the kitchen was back to order. More importantly, my attitude had changed.
This morning, I noticed that he had written all his after school activities on the calendar. He even used the color pen I have designated for him. Had I lost my temper with him last night, then God couldn’t have put that action on his heart.
I’m learning – one, slow day at time – that I can’t change my husband. There are days that I want to, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. Unfortunately, all I can do is strive to be the best me that I can be by focusing on the things that God has directed me to do.
April 19th, 2007
Submission. It’s not a word most women like - at least not this one. I was born stubborn and worked for years to perfect the attitude.
Sometimes, I think that I’m the comic relief in the day of God. Why else would I get to the place of perfect stubbornness, only to discover submission? It’s all through the scripture: submit to God, submit to authority, and submit to your husband.
Ugh! Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl.
Thank God he’s patient! (I do on a daily basis) He’s taking his time remolding and directing my attitude.
I’ve recently come to understand the importance of submitting to my husband. I wanted an addition. There was a new baby on the way and we had to have the room. I found a way to get the money - even though we committed to not borrow money ever again.
I talked a reluctant husband into agreeing with me. We got a loan, I got the addition, and the disasters started right off.
What happened? I’ve come to understand that the reason I need to submit to my husband is that he is the timing. If he’s not ready, then it’s not time.
So I announced yesterday at bible study (out loud and to witnesses) that I was going to go the whole week without saying no to my husband or arguing with him.
I made it six hours.
I recovered, and have made it most of this day without any more slip ups. I’ll keep you posted on what becomes of my submissive life and the blessings I know are going to flow.
April 11th, 2007
I am not skinny. There has never been a time in my life (except maybe when I was a toddler) that I would say I was skinny. Fit, maybe trim, definitely voluptuous are more the words that described my figure. The 1950’s would have been a great time for me to grow up. I got the 70’s and 80’s.
Stick figures, tiny waists, and flat chests were all the rage. I had none of these things. At 14 I started dieting. I remember distinctly keeping a chart of my weight loss on my closet door. I got down to 118 with that first diet. I’ve never been lower than that.
Being active wasn’t my problem. I ran track, swam, dove, played basketball, volleyball, and baseball. In the summer, I was a lifeguard and swim instructor. I did a stint as a laborer at a local horse farm. Looking back at my pictures, I’m beginning to comprehend that my body wasn’t as much of the problem as was my perception.
I woke up this morning with a new perception. I am healthy. I am happy. I am fit. I can see the muscles tightening up and lengthening. I see the skin becoming tight and healthy. I see me RUNNING with my boys all day. This is the first day of my new perception.
I read in my bible study that you have to be able to see something in order to believe it. This in not the physical seeing that we think of, but it is seeing with the spiritual eye. Things have to become so clarified in my heart, that I can see it in my mind. That’s what happened today with my body. And that WILL make all the difference.
April 6th, 2007
