I am alone, save for faint clock ticking, steady computer hum, rhythmic turn of the hamster wheel, sleep-inducing heater roar.
Children now asleep, husband at work.
What is God saying in the quiet of the night, after a never-sit-down day of pageant rehearsal and church singing, grocery shopping, laundry, birthday cake making, birthday present wrapping, picture taking, candle blowing, memory making?
My body was busy performing tasks, while my mind was busy fretting about tomorrow.
So I hear God saying this: Do the immediate needful thing, leaving the rest (the tomorrows) to me. Praise me as you pray and work, giving thanks for the moment.
A relative wrote recently, sympathizing that it must be hard to have husband working so many hours. Letter went on to say that after the computer classes, things will get easier when he gets a better job.
Although I read that note several days ago, the words still echo. She doesn't know that husband's confidence is low, that it's perpetually low, that he's too busy to find a help-desk internship, that all the help desk jobs require at least one to five years experience, or a computer degree. When the classes finish in February, husband will finally have at least ten hours a week to study for more certifications; he currently has two certifications in hand.
But certifications aren't the same as a computer degree, and I daresay, most employers in the workforce won't be impressed by husband's BA in theology, or his many years of work caring for the brain-injured in PA, preceded and followed by custodial work.
As far as the certifications go, well, anyone can buy a computer book at a bookstore, study it diligently, and then take a computer certification exam. Computer nerd types can pass these readily, without help or classes.
Husband worries--but is not without hope--that no one will hire him, that his lack of experience, his age, and the fact that he's no computer nerd, will turn off interviewers.
Fathers give sons confidence. Mothers or wives can boost it, but fathers bestow it. That never happened for husband--it was never bestowed by his father, who didn't appreciate what his son could do, but berated him for what he couldn't.
Confidence also comes from accomplishment, but accomplishment comes easier for those starting with confidence.
I'm begging God to give husband a chance. To give him a big break, such as an interview where God speaks the bold, insightful, confident answers, through husband. Erase the impact of the sins of the father, Dear Lord. Bestow what the earthly father didn't....what he couldn't.
To not look beyond today is hard. Yet we know God is faithful, bestowing sufficient grace for our circumstances. He can choose to better our circumstances, or not. It's impossible to predict.
What to write back to the relative? Nothing. I wrote nothing in response. Her comments were only a small part of the note, anyway.
It's best to say nothing about our husbands except for the glowing things--especially to relatives. They remember the negatives always, long after the spouting-off wife has forgotten her unwise comments.
This is where the anonymity of the Internet, when writing under fictitious names, comes in handy for me as I process what I feel, process what God is force-teaching me.
I believe in my husband. He is bright and capable, personable, earning good grades. Yet the low confidence is so pervasive, so ingrained, that it frightens me. How will he hide it in a professional interview? And why hasn't God healed, erased, restored, bestowed?
And what will this do to our boys, this pervasive low confidence of their father's? How do we stop it from poisoning the next generation?
The world is competitive. The strongest win, move to the next level, conquer. We are to be in the world, but not of it.
Confidence is needed, either way.
God, I'm begging you. Erase, heal, bestow.
And yes, I hear your message to me today: Do the next needful thing, do it with gladness and thanksgiving, leaving the tomorrows to me.
Matthew 6:34
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Psalm 107:1
Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever.
Jeremiah 29:11
For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (The translation of the word "prosper" here does not necessarily refer to earthly riches. I don't remember the exact translation (and husband isn't here to enlighten me), but I feel certain it refers to spiritual prosperity.)
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
How I Spent My Saturday
To stop the insanity. That's what I've wanted more than anything lately, save for cuddling and reading to my babes.
The more I have to chase the ever-curious Miss Beth, the less organized and efficient life becomes. Survival mode applies to more than just the newborn period! The into-everything faze, spanning twelve months old to perhaps 30 months old, is ripe with challenges. And once they can climb out of playpens and over safety gates, things really get interesting. My babe is on the cusp of turning door handles by herself. Lord help us!
Just today, she found an old juice box under a bed--you'll know why later in the post--and promptly climbed up onto the kitchen counter to open the cupboard the children's scissors are stored in. She wanted to cut open the juice box and drink it.
Two weeks ago, the scissors were on the counter itself in a cute little holder. Convenient and all, you know, for the rest of us. That is, until she climbed up there without even so much as a box to stand on, and scored herself a pair of scissors to practice with.
No child of mine has ever cut their own hair. Let's hope I can still say that next month.
Last night I lay awake, contemplatingthe universe my messy life, wondering how to stop the insanity. The laundry insanity, the messy paperwork insanity, the messy bedroom insanity--the this-house-is-so-messy-I'm-going-insane insanity.
Do you know the kind?
I waited for possible solutions to come to me, as the heater hummed, the night-light glowed, and my baby sighed content.
Finally, something happened in the recesses of my disorganized mind. Something hopeful.
Yes, I told myself. There is no other way--a catch-all room for messy paperwork, unfolded baskets of laundry, bulky dressers, and miscellaneous, no-where-else-to-store items. Most of all, a room that can be closed off from curious little hands.
See, we don't have a garage or basement. We have three small bedrooms with smallish closets. There is a greenhouse shed and a garden tool shed, but they've reached their capacity with lawn things.
Not only do I want to feel sane, but I also really, really want to be hospitable. The Bible calls me to extend hospitality, despite a toddler with her hands into everything. The problem is that I'm too busy chasing her out of the next thing to thoroughly put to right what she's already ransacked. The result? Ever-increasing messy chaos!
So today, my enthusiastic husband (okay, not so much) took time out of his busy schedule to help me move the older three children into the master bedroom (3 twin beds), and the master king bed into the baby's room, and the crib out to the curb--the crib she hasn't slept in since she was about seven months old. It was used as a "guard rail" for one side of the queen bed she shared with me. She took her first steps at eight and a half months, so she managed her way out of the queen bed after naps pretty well.
We didn't put the bed frame on the king bed as we set it up, so that if she tumbles out, the fall will be insignificant. Daddy is going to try sleeping with us again, since Miss Beth is now waking less. Good plan, though he's very particular about his sleep, so we'll see how it goes. Having said that though, he would never go for having a young child "cry it out", and neither would I. I'm sure there's nothing wrong with it, but we can't stomach it.
I waited a long time to have babies! I'm in no hurry to shoo them out of my life--or even out of my nights.
But I digress.
The third room is the coldest, yuckiest room, featuring paneling we painted white instead of removed when we moved in because at the time we had two active boys, 21 months and 3.5 years old, who had just moved cross-country and were displaying a bit of stress. That was another survival-mode period of my life.
This yucky room, which previously housed our three older children, now houses two dressers to make it easier for me to put clothes away at night, the laundry baskets needing folding attention, some homeschooling supplies that were cluttering up the rest of the house, and some messy, not-yet-filed mail paperwork, and lastly, the queen bed.
Of course, the queen bed doesn't yet fit, because all of the junk that was put under beds for five and a half years, is now in that room, waiting to be sorted through and thrown away or restored somewhere else.
Included in the disastrous mountain of clutter, are hundreds of long lost game pieces, long lost socks, mittens, balls, play tools, magnetic alphabet letters, stray foam bathtime alphabet letters, and other such miscellany guaranteed to drive a conscientious, but not-naturally-organized mother crazy.
Welcome to my insanity. Just keeping it real.
Hopefully, in about four days, I will have made it to the bottom of the junk pile--or rather, the junk mountain.
Meanwhile, the other two bedrooms love me. They are clutter free, sort of becoming (low budget, you know), and clean!
And the three older children, whom we previously cruelly housed in the yucky room, think their new master bedroom is way cool! They had only minimal difficulty at bedtime tonight, adjusting to new digs.
And that, my friends, was my Saturday in a nutshell.
Needless to say, no laundry got done, but there's always tomorrow.
I think.
The more I have to chase the ever-curious Miss Beth, the less organized and efficient life becomes. Survival mode applies to more than just the newborn period! The into-everything faze, spanning twelve months old to perhaps 30 months old, is ripe with challenges. And once they can climb out of playpens and over safety gates, things really get interesting. My babe is on the cusp of turning door handles by herself. Lord help us!
Just today, she found an old juice box under a bed--you'll know why later in the post--and promptly climbed up onto the kitchen counter to open the cupboard the children's scissors are stored in. She wanted to cut open the juice box and drink it.
Two weeks ago, the scissors were on the counter itself in a cute little holder. Convenient and all, you know, for the rest of us. That is, until she climbed up there without even so much as a box to stand on, and scored herself a pair of scissors to practice with.
No child of mine has ever cut their own hair. Let's hope I can still say that next month.
Last night I lay awake, contemplating
Do you know the kind?
I waited for possible solutions to come to me, as the heater hummed, the night-light glowed, and my baby sighed content.
Finally, something happened in the recesses of my disorganized mind. Something hopeful.
Yes, I told myself. There is no other way--a catch-all room for messy paperwork, unfolded baskets of laundry, bulky dressers, and miscellaneous, no-where-else-to-store items. Most of all, a room that can be closed off from curious little hands.
See, we don't have a garage or basement. We have three small bedrooms with smallish closets. There is a greenhouse shed and a garden tool shed, but they've reached their capacity with lawn things.
Not only do I want to feel sane, but I also really, really want to be hospitable. The Bible calls me to extend hospitality, despite a toddler with her hands into everything. The problem is that I'm too busy chasing her out of the next thing to thoroughly put to right what she's already ransacked. The result? Ever-increasing messy chaos!
So today, my enthusiastic husband (okay, not so much) took time out of his busy schedule to help me move the older three children into the master bedroom (3 twin beds), and the master king bed into the baby's room, and the crib out to the curb--the crib she hasn't slept in since she was about seven months old. It was used as a "guard rail" for one side of the queen bed she shared with me. She took her first steps at eight and a half months, so she managed her way out of the queen bed after naps pretty well.
We didn't put the bed frame on the king bed as we set it up, so that if she tumbles out, the fall will be insignificant. Daddy is going to try sleeping with us again, since Miss Beth is now waking less. Good plan, though he's very particular about his sleep, so we'll see how it goes. Having said that though, he would never go for having a young child "cry it out", and neither would I. I'm sure there's nothing wrong with it, but we can't stomach it.
I waited a long time to have babies! I'm in no hurry to shoo them out of my life--or even out of my nights.
But I digress.
The third room is the coldest, yuckiest room, featuring paneling we painted white instead of removed when we moved in because at the time we had two active boys, 21 months and 3.5 years old, who had just moved cross-country and were displaying a bit of stress. That was another survival-mode period of my life.
This yucky room, which previously housed our three older children, now houses two dressers to make it easier for me to put clothes away at night, the laundry baskets needing folding attention, some homeschooling supplies that were cluttering up the rest of the house, and some messy, not-yet-filed mail paperwork, and lastly, the queen bed.
Of course, the queen bed doesn't yet fit, because all of the junk that was put under beds for five and a half years, is now in that room, waiting to be sorted through and thrown away or restored somewhere else.
Included in the disastrous mountain of clutter, are hundreds of long lost game pieces, long lost socks, mittens, balls, play tools, magnetic alphabet letters, stray foam bathtime alphabet letters, and other such miscellany guaranteed to drive a conscientious, but not-naturally-organized mother crazy.
Welcome to my insanity. Just keeping it real.
Hopefully, in about four days, I will have made it to the bottom of the junk pile--or rather, the junk mountain.
Meanwhile, the other two bedrooms love me. They are clutter free, sort of becoming (low budget, you know), and clean!
And the three older children, whom we previously cruelly housed in the yucky room, think their new master bedroom is way cool! They had only minimal difficulty at bedtime tonight, adjusting to new digs.
And that, my friends, was my Saturday in a nutshell.
Needless to say, no laundry got done, but there's always tomorrow.
I think.
on shepherding and the TV
Mary will turn four years old in several days. While she as recently as a month ago would involve herself diligently in building train tracks, Tinkertoy creations, and rudimentary Lincoln Log structures, more recently, she'd just as soon watch a library Dora DVD. I'm still not sure what precipitated this change.
Was it a symptom of internal stress? Peter's rather sudden OCD symptoms turned the whole household into a bundle of nerves; only recently have things returned to a semblance of normalcy.
Yet even with milder moods becoming the rule, Mary is still wanting to waste her life away with Dora. At first I allowed two full videos (not at one sitting), more because I was under stress due to Peter's symptoms. I wanted to rock the boat, so to speak, as little as possible.
As far as media use goes around here, I don't need to worry about computers. The kids use the computer as entertainment infrequently, due to lack of software. It's more a source of information only and isn't overused.
And during the warmer months they played outside so much I didn't need to worry about their library-media viewing. Now, it's cold outside--time-consuming bundling required. While they're still playing out there daily, it isn't for extended or multiple periods--maybe sixty minutes total.
The boys are now asking for more library videos/DVD's, and in the last four days, I've acquiesced.
And tonight, I feel horrible. Just like the laziest, most selfish parent around. Yes, when they watch something, it's rather convenient, notwithstanding the fact that the baby behaves far worse when the TV is on, because there's less interaction for her.
I know better. I know the result of too much TV. It breeds idiocy, lack of creativity, lack of responsiveness to life and to the environment, and to poor thinking and problem-solving skills. It also leads to addiction to entertainment, which is a horrible folly. Entertainment can rob our children, and ourselves, of godliness.
It's amazing how we try to rationalize things in the heat of the moment, isn't it?
Good, solid parenting involves self-sacrifice. Resolve. Letting go of our own agendas--even if they seem like good ones (like when you're behind on chores).
We have to fight for their hearts and minds; never wearying. We need to expect first-time obedience, even though getting it means we stay near our children most of the day. They obey far better and display more respect when the parental voice and face is right there. Think about it for a moment. How many times have you had to repeat yourself, sometimes to the point of yelling, when giving orders from another room? Often?
When we stay around and pay attention (herding principle--think of the crook in the shepherd's staff), we can speak softly but with authority, and stay calm. They will respond well as long as we consistently shepherd. Nearby.
How does all this about shepherding relate to TV viewing and my four-year-old's recent Dora addiction?
Just this. I became lazy. Selfish. I wanted to get things done instead of shepherd my children. For shame, because that isn't why I stay home with these precious ones. Not to have Dora babysit and steal away my child's heart and mind. (I like Dora--don't get me wrong. But thirty minutes a day is more than enough.)
I stay home to shepherd my flock. And tomorrow, I'll get back to doing just that--perhaps starting by teaching them to do more chores. I'm so busy because I'm doing too many chores and they're doing too few.
Simply making their beds, putting their dirty clothes in a hamper, and cleaning the playroom isn't enough for their ages (the boys), or for our busy family. I need to take the time to train the boys to do dishes and some laundry. Hard to do, yes, but I'm doing the whole family a disservice by not delegating more--and by not requiring them to develop higher levels of responsibility and maturity.
I credit this article with getting me back on track tonight. Part of it deals with homeschooling, but further down it deals more with shepherding. I found it to be an outstanding parenting resource.
Was it a symptom of internal stress? Peter's rather sudden OCD symptoms turned the whole household into a bundle of nerves; only recently have things returned to a semblance of normalcy.
Yet even with milder moods becoming the rule, Mary is still wanting to waste her life away with Dora. At first I allowed two full videos (not at one sitting), more because I was under stress due to Peter's symptoms. I wanted to rock the boat, so to speak, as little as possible.
As far as media use goes around here, I don't need to worry about computers. The kids use the computer as entertainment infrequently, due to lack of software. It's more a source of information only and isn't overused.
And during the warmer months they played outside so much I didn't need to worry about their library-media viewing. Now, it's cold outside--time-consuming bundling required. While they're still playing out there daily, it isn't for extended or multiple periods--maybe sixty minutes total.
The boys are now asking for more library videos/DVD's, and in the last four days, I've acquiesced.
And tonight, I feel horrible. Just like the laziest, most selfish parent around. Yes, when they watch something, it's rather convenient, notwithstanding the fact that the baby behaves far worse when the TV is on, because there's less interaction for her.
I know better. I know the result of too much TV. It breeds idiocy, lack of creativity, lack of responsiveness to life and to the environment, and to poor thinking and problem-solving skills. It also leads to addiction to entertainment, which is a horrible folly. Entertainment can rob our children, and ourselves, of godliness.
It's amazing how we try to rationalize things in the heat of the moment, isn't it?
Good, solid parenting involves self-sacrifice. Resolve. Letting go of our own agendas--even if they seem like good ones (like when you're behind on chores).
We have to fight for their hearts and minds; never wearying. We need to expect first-time obedience, even though getting it means we stay near our children most of the day. They obey far better and display more respect when the parental voice and face is right there. Think about it for a moment. How many times have you had to repeat yourself, sometimes to the point of yelling, when giving orders from another room? Often?
When we stay around and pay attention (herding principle--think of the crook in the shepherd's staff), we can speak softly but with authority, and stay calm. They will respond well as long as we consistently shepherd. Nearby.
How does all this about shepherding relate to TV viewing and my four-year-old's recent Dora addiction?
Just this. I became lazy. Selfish. I wanted to get things done instead of shepherd my children. For shame, because that isn't why I stay home with these precious ones. Not to have Dora babysit and steal away my child's heart and mind. (I like Dora--don't get me wrong. But thirty minutes a day is more than enough.)
I stay home to shepherd my flock. And tomorrow, I'll get back to doing just that--perhaps starting by teaching them to do more chores. I'm so busy because I'm doing too many chores and they're doing too few.
Simply making their beds, putting their dirty clothes in a hamper, and cleaning the playroom isn't enough for their ages (the boys), or for our busy family. I need to take the time to train the boys to do dishes and some laundry. Hard to do, yes, but I'm doing the whole family a disservice by not delegating more--and by not requiring them to develop higher levels of responsibility and maturity.
I credit this article with getting me back on track tonight. Part of it deals with homeschooling, but further down it deals more with shepherding. I found it to be an outstanding parenting resource.
Friday, December 10, 2010
I will give thanks to the Lord
Psalm 7:17
I will give thanks to the LORD because of his righteousness and will sing praise to the name of the LORD Most High.
Dear Lord,
I praise your Holy name! Thank you for........
- children who suddenly like snow play. A lot. I love watching them out the window, as I enjoy a quiet house.
- a morning spent sledding with Daddy. They all fell into bed exhausted that night! Long trek back up the hill, over and over again.
- the aroma of pumpkin pie baking, followed by heavenly gingerbread men (recipe coming soon).
- children who are soaking up spiritual lessons. I heard two children playing in the shower rather than washing. After two warnings, I went back in there and just shut off the shower, telling them they were done. They sobered up quickly, apologizing for wasting water.
Momma (after already yelling once today over lazy playroom clean up, and feeling guilty about it): "Thank you for apologizing, Lovies. It's okay--there's always grace."
Mary: "And mercy."
Momma: "Yes, mercy too. To have mercy means to not give a deserved punishment. And grace is giving a gift, instead of a punishment."
Peter: "Jesus gave us both grace and mercy!"
- sharing the above conversation with husband later, and watching him shed tears, along with me. These rascals are not easy to raise. They do many childish things over and over again. But they are learning about Jesus! Praise God!
- a Cooper's Hawk on our chain link fence. Awesome!
- sisters enjoying books together
- grace to endure hard things, like watching our skin decay (husband and me). We are both aging very fast now. Husband seems less bothered, until he sees a picture of himself. Watching yourself decay is a scary, emotional thing--especially when people look you up and down, wondering if you are the parents or the grandparents. As Christians we can usually put the decay in perspective quickly, going on with our day. I am so thankful to have Scripture as a filter. Life would be unimaginably hard without the promise of grace while on earth, followed by eternal life!
- folded clothes sitting behind me, rather than full baskets
- my oldest boy's decreased OCD symptoms. He is reading again for pleasure without repeating lines!
- a surprise package in the mail--homemade caramel popcorn from sweet friends!
- Miss Beth feeling better and sleeping well.
I will give thanks to the LORD because of his righteousness and will sing praise to the name of the LORD Most High.
Dear Lord,
I praise your Holy name! Thank you for........
- children who suddenly like snow play. A lot. I love watching them out the window, as I enjoy a quiet house.
- a morning spent sledding with Daddy. They all fell into bed exhausted that night! Long trek back up the hill, over and over again.
- the aroma of pumpkin pie baking, followed by heavenly gingerbread men (recipe coming soon).
- children who are soaking up spiritual lessons. I heard two children playing in the shower rather than washing. After two warnings, I went back in there and just shut off the shower, telling them they were done. They sobered up quickly, apologizing for wasting water.
Momma (after already yelling once today over lazy playroom clean up, and feeling guilty about it): "Thank you for apologizing, Lovies. It's okay--there's always grace."
Mary: "And mercy."
Momma: "Yes, mercy too. To have mercy means to not give a deserved punishment. And grace is giving a gift, instead of a punishment."
Peter: "Jesus gave us both grace and mercy!"
- sharing the above conversation with husband later, and watching him shed tears, along with me. These rascals are not easy to raise. They do many childish things over and over again. But they are learning about Jesus! Praise God!
- a Cooper's Hawk on our chain link fence. Awesome!
- sisters enjoying books together
- spontaneous dance parties
- grace to endure hard things, like watching our skin decay (husband and me). We are both aging very fast now. Husband seems less bothered, until he sees a picture of himself. Watching yourself decay is a scary, emotional thing--especially when people look you up and down, wondering if you are the parents or the grandparents. As Christians we can usually put the decay in perspective quickly, going on with our day. I am so thankful to have Scripture as a filter. Life would be unimaginably hard without the promise of grace while on earth, followed by eternal life!
- folded clothes sitting behind me, rather than full baskets
- my oldest boy's decreased OCD symptoms. He is reading again for pleasure without repeating lines!
- a surprise package in the mail--homemade caramel popcorn from sweet friends!
- Miss Beth feeling better and sleeping well.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
What will I do? My babe is two!
My last baby was born on December 8, 2008. Today she is two and my heart aches so! She still loves to nurse, which was one of my prayers after husband told me of his vasectomy decision. If you've been with me for awhile in the blogging world, you know (but probably forgot) that she took a whole month to learn to nurse, making her first month of life one of the most stressful months of mine. But God provided. She learned. So grateful I was, I got down and worshiped my loving heavenly Father, right there on the floor.
Then, in winter 2009, my husband's vasectomy decision was announced.
Lord, may she not wean early. May we have many, many more months of night and daytime nursing cuddles.
Again, He provided. At two, she hasn't the slightest interest in weaning. As sad as I am today, I can thank God for that.
When you've got another miracle growing in your tummy, two is a happy day. At 44.5 years old, I'm an old woman for sure, but my body can produce another bundle of joy, so perhaps this is some natural yearning I'm having.
Anyhow, I love this little girl so much it hurts! She is such a delight.....such a blessed surprise. Someday, she may look at my wrinkled face and perhaps want a younger Momma. I'll have to count on the Lord's grace to see me through that, just as I have to for every glimpse in the mirror these days.
For now, Miss Beth and Momma are a happy pair.
Her first two years, in pictures:
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