In the Middle Way

Moment of Surrender

2011-07-16T08:57:00.003-04:00

courtesy of U2.com

Keith and I drove down to Philadelphia this past Thursday, the 14th, to see U2's 360 Tour. It was an amazing show; they're great artists. The final song they played is possibly my all-time favorite song of theirs: Moment of Surrender from their latest album No Line on the Horizon.

The song, live, at the Rose Bowl.

The story of how the song came about (very interesting!).

A clip of the song officially posted on U2's website.

Sabbath morning

2011-05-29T08:50:00.003-04:00

Lead us, heavenly Father, lead us
O'er the world's tempestuous sea;
Guard us, guide us, keep us, feed us,
For we have no help but thee;
Yet possessing every blessing
If our God our Father be.
Savior, breathe forgiveness o'er us;
All our weakness thou doest know;
Thou didst tread this earth before us,
Thou didst feel its keenest woe;
Lone and dreary, faint and weary,
Through the desert thou didst go.
Spirit of our God, descending,
Fill our hearts with heavenly joy;
Love with every passion blending,
Pleasure that can never cloy;
Thus provided, pardoned, guided,
Nothing can our peace destroy.

--James Edmeston (1791-1867)

Ann Voskamp

2011-05-16T07:59:00.002-04:00

Well hello, Monday Morning!
Ready for another week?
Is your calendar full, your to-do list spilling onto the next page?
Let me add one more thing to that list:

Go get One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.

Or download it on Kindle.

Or at least check out one of last week's posts from her blog.

Do it! (Yes, I'm talking to you, my dear, oh, five readers of this blog!)

From Alasdair MacIntyre

2011-04-28T11:52:00.003-04:00

"I can only answer the question: what am I to do?

if I answer the prior question:

of what story do I find myself a part?"

So, what story are we in?

Crossing the Bar

2011-04-26T20:30:00.002-04:00

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have cross't the bar.

---Alfred Lord Tennyson

I attended a memorial service for a dear man from our congregation a week ago. He was the father of five, the grandfather of a dozen. He was also a naval officer. This was the poem his children chose to print on the front of his funeral program. All the hymns we sang were nautically themed as well. I must have teared up half a dozen times, and I hardly knew the man. There's just something about the sea that always gets me. Maybe it's because my grandfather was a sailor too.

New paint + Springtime = Love

2011-04-20T22:54:00.004-04:00

This is what I was seeing as I cooked dinner tonight. Salmon over rice with a cool cilantro sauce. For six months I've been staring at a dingy brick wall through a dingy, grimy window. But no more. We painted the kitchen last month. And then the flowers started blooming this week. Yellow daffodils and pink hyacinths from our neighbor's yard. And luscious grape hyacinths from our own backyard, handpicked by Lily. Thank you, Mom, for the teeny tiny little flower vase; it has been filled with new flowers every day this week! And thank you for helping me set up my new sewing machine so that I could sew that blue and white curtain. And thank you for the star: I'll always gravitate toward five-pointed stars because of you. So Mom, I guess I'm trying to thank you for supporting me in so many tangible and intangible ways. Thank you for my beautiful kitchen. I love you. Happy Birthday.

It's a new year...

2011-01-28T19:54:00.002-05:00

So it's nearly the end of January, and I've recently been thinking that I should make some changes. That's right, I'm a little behind the times. But come on, it's still very early in the year, so who cares if I'm about 4 weeks past the traditional January 1 deadline?
Here's the thing: I've been stressed. Moving was stressful, the holidays (juggling kids, traveling, etc) were stressful, the winter snowbound months are stressful, and some of my friends' lives are stressful. I don't deal with stress that well. I sleep more and eat more. In the grand scheme of things, that's not so bad: I'm not drinking myself to death or doing drugs or grambling away the family fortune (ha!). But I'm still numbing. I'm still coping instead of dealing.

So, it's time to deal. Or at least be more open to dealing with the stress, the crap, the worries that I push aside: "Will this move work out?" "How am I going to survive with these kids?" "Will my friends be okay?"

My solution, or resolution, has come to this: I'm going to attempt to spend the next 3 months eating less and praying more. By eating less, I mean limiting what I eat (not how much, necessarily). Confession: I love carbs. Love them. It could be called an addiction. So for the next 6 weeks or so, I'm sticking to protein and veggies. TORTURE! No seriously, it's torture. I started this pseudo-fast on Monday, and it's only by the grace of God (not kidding) that I'm still doing it. The first two days were rough. But I'm trying to seek God when I feel like seeking food. It feels like such a lame substitute (please God, don't strike me down!), but it's true. My goal is to find moments when I can be alone, when I can talk to God and maybe hear from Him.

After four days of plain chicken and green peppers and cheese-less omlets, I decided that tonight needed to be something to look forward to. After all, it's a Friday night and Keith has made it though another week of classes and I've made it through another week of frigid temps and snow and home bound drudgery. So I found this Rachael Ray beef with broccoli recipe- it's like takeout, only healthier! And I was able to make it and pull out my portion before I added the noodles (bummer, I know)- so it followed my self-enforced guidelines. And it hit the spot. Thank you, God.

More to follow....

A new endeavor

2011-01-13T10:06:00.004-05:00

Originally I thought this post would be about the scarf, but as it turns out, it's really about friends... isn't that usually how is it?

A long time ago I mentioned to a friend that I wanted to take up knitting, and she asked me to make her a scarf for her birthday. I promptly said yes and then did nothing about it for the next three years! ha! But as this most recent Christmas season approached, I thought I should finally make good on my promise.
On a dark and snowy evening in December I set out to find a little knitting shop just outside Hershey, Pa: a dear friend and knitting goddess works there and urged me to make my start there. I stepped into the store just minutes before closing time, so it was just me and the owner. She was so helpful and encouraging; she helped me pick out some great bamboo needles and yarn that was both warm and soft (half silk, half merino wool). I have to admit that I've started knitting projects about half a dozen times in my life and never finished a single thing, but I just knew that this time I would actually get my project done. I would highly recommend Yarn Love to beginners and pros alike.
I went home to my parents' house and, with the help of my wonderful sister-in-law Bekah, I cast on and knitted away. For the next three weeks the scarf went everywhere with me: to church, to girls' nights, even on a road trip to Virginia! I had such fun and grew more confident with each completed row.
And here's the finished product:

If I lived near this friend, I would definitely have asked her to come over and take some cool, artistic pictures of my masterpiece, but alas, I was left to my own devices! At least you can get an idea of what it looks like. The funny thing is, even though none of the friends I've mentioned here really did anything, they've all inspired me with their own lives and endeavors, and every once in a while it's nice to see a physical reminder of our intangible qualities.

RGB

2010-11-24T07:59:00.006-05:00

fleur de lis

I walk past this fence nearly every day.

Sometimes I'm taking the girls to the park;

sometimes I'm taking a post-dinner stroll with our family.

It always makes me smile.

Slide!

2010-10-28T09:17:00.010-04:00

Under construction

2010-10-04T14:53:00.002-04:00

photo by Keith, October 2010

This is how I feel about my life right now. It's under construction. All of it.

This is our second floor bathroom in its current state. Believe it or not, plumbers have been in there every day for a week, and this is how it looks now. yeah, it was bad.

The rest of my home, however, is starting to look up. I'm hoping to be back online more and posting again soon. At the risk of sounding sappy, my home is under construction, my heart is under construction, and my family is under construction. I guess this is how most of our lives look most of the time :)

Summer's Best

2010-09-02T09:33:00.008-04:00

Dinner at Loxley's with Becky and Jean

Last play-date with Jenna and the kids in Williamsport

My 30th birthday night in a LIMO

Soon-to-be neighbors!

Goodbye dinner at Houlihan's for me and Angie

Just another night Deck Party at Heather's!

I have SUCH good friends here.

Part 3: Eminem ft. Rihanna- Love The Way You Lie

2010-08-31T21:55:00.006-04:00

*Disclaimer*: If you, dear reader, are at all squeamish about swearing or graphic violence, this post is not for you.

If you're still with me, great. This song is genius. It's a collaboration by two artists who are no strangers to the "technicolor" hardships of this life. The rapper was raised by a single mom who suffered from Munchausen syndrome. The singer grew up in Barbados with a drug-addicted father; she was in the news last year for being beaten up by her boyfriend.

But enough background. This song can stand on its own. I've read several reviews of this song, and the writers often don't get it. They think it's just about domestic violence or just about two people who are too messed up to make a relationship work. But it's more than that. At some level, everyone should be able to relate to this song.

The real question these artists are asking is: Why do we hurt the ones we love? This is a universal question, one that every person has experienced to one degree or another. "Why do I hurt the people I love the most the worst? And if I can see that I'm doing it, why can't I stop?" This is dark stuff, not for the faint of heart.

Questions:
Why do those who have been abused so often become abusers themselves (often in the exact same way)?
Why do we think we can act out (in any small or large way) against our family members or loved ones and that it's not that bad?
Why do we stick with relationships that are hurtful?
-because we "should"?
-because it'll get better?
-because we deserve it? (yikes- look out for that one!)
How do we break these terrible habits, these terrible cycles?

The song doesn't offer any answers, but I applaud it for acknowledging the truth that this stuff goes on everywhere, all the time, and that it's not as easy to understand as an outsider might think. I've posted the official music video below- it's a good story that suits the song (and you'll recognize the actors).

Love The Way You Lie

I can't tell you what it really is
I can only tell you what it feels like
And right now there's a steel knife in my windpipe
I can't breathe, But I still fight
While I can fight
As long as the wrong feels right,
It's like I'm in flight
High off a love, Drunk from the hate
It's like I'm huffing paint
And I love it: the more that I suffer
I suffocate
And right before I'm about to drown
She resuscitates me
She fucking hates me
And I love it
Wait
"Where you going?"
"I'm leaving you."
"No you ain't. Come back."
We're running right back
Here we go again
It's so insane
Cause when it's going good
It's going great
I'm Superman with the wind in his back,
She's Lois Lane
But when it's bad
It's awful
I feel so ashamed
I snap
Who's that dude
I don't even know his name
I laid hands on her
I'll never stoop so low again
I guess I don't know my own strength

Just gonna stand there
And watch me burn
But that's alright
Because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there
And hear me cry
But that's alright
Because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

You ever love somebody so much
You can barely breathe
When you're with them
You meet
And neither one of you
Even know what hit 'em
Got that warm fuzzy feeling
Yeah them chills
Used to get 'em
Now you're getting fucking sick
Of looking at 'em
You swore you've never hit 'em
Never do nothing to hurt 'em
Now you're in each other's face
Spewing venom
And these words
When you spit 'em
You push
Pull each other's hair
Scratch, claw, bit 'em
Throw 'em down
Pin 'em
So lost in the moments
When you're in 'em
It's the rage that took over
It controls you both
So they say it's best
To go your separate ways
Guess that they don't know ya
Cause today
That was yesterday
Yesterday is over
It's a different day
Sound like broken records
Playin' over
But you promised her
Next time you'll show restraint
You don't get another chance
Life is no Nintendo game
But you lied again
Now you get to watch her leave
Out the window
Guess that's why they call it window pane

Just gonna stand there
And watch me burn
But that's alright
Because I like
The way it hurts
Just gonna stand there
And hear me cry
But that's alright
Because I love
The way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

Now I know we said things
Did things
That we didn't mean
And we fall back
Into the same patterns
Same routine
But your temper's just as bad
As mine is
You're the same as me
But when it comes to love
You're just as blinded
Baby please come back
It wasn't you
Baby it was me
Maybe our relationship
Isn't as crazy as it seems
Maybe that's what happens
When a tornado meets a volcano
All I know is
I love you too much
To walk away though
Come inside
Pick up your bags off the sidewalk
Don't you hear sincerity
In my voice when I talk?
Told you this is my fault
Look me in the eyeball
Next time I'm pissed
I'll aim my fist
At the dry wall
Next time
There will be no next time
I apologize
Even though I know it's lies
I'm tired of the games
I just want her back
I know I'm a liar
If she ever tries to fucking leave again
I'mma tie her to the bed
And set the house on fire

Just gonna stand there
And watch me burn
But that's alright
Because I like
The way it hurts
Just gonna stand there
And hear me cry
But that's alright
Because I love
The way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

Part 2: Fiona Apple - Extraordinary Machine

2010-08-17T17:26:00.004-04:00

This is another great song. Seems appropriate for today. There's no official video for this song, so I've posted a live performance instead.

And let me take a moment to say that while I think all of the songs I post are insightful, they are NOT all posted with some sort of covert autobiographical purpose. So please, don't email me with messages of concern if I post a song about lost love or abusive relationships!!! I'm fine, I just appreciate honesty in people, in whatever form it may come. Without further ado...

Extraordinary Machine
I certainly haven't been shopping for any new shoes
And I certainly haven't been spreading myself around
I still only travel by foot and by foot it's a slow climb
But I'm good at being uncomfortable so I can't stop changing all the time

I noticed that my opponent is always on the go
And won't go slow so as not to focus and I notice
He'll hitch a ride with any guide as long as they go fast from whence he came
But he's no good at being uncomfortable so he can't stop staying exactly the same

If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it I'm an extraordinary machine

I seem to you to seek a new disaster every day
You deem me due to clean my view and be at peace and lay
I mean to prove I mean to move in my own way
And say I've been getting along for long before you came into the play

I am the baby of the family
It happens so everybody cares
And wears the sheeps clothes while they chaperone
Curious you're looking down your nose at me while you appease
Courteous to try and help but let me set your mind at ease

If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it I'm an extraordinary machine

Do I so worry you
No need to hurry to my side, it's very kind
But it's to no avail
I don't want the pill
I promise you everything will be just fine

If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it I'm an extraordinary machine

Part 1: John Mayer - Half Of My Heart

2010-08-14T12:34:00.002-04:00

Well, dear friends, it's been a long summer so far. Full of big decisions, times of waiting, road trips, and many many good meals (nothing like fresh veggies and fruit in the summer months!). I've been stressed an awful lot, but in a good sort of way. Change is coming and I'm trying to prepare. So that has left me with precious little brain power to devote to my other pastimes like this blog.

But as I was riding in the car last week on yet another road trip, we were listening to an old Dido album, and I began thinking about how much I love certain songs. And I thought maybe instead of writing on here (which most days is simply not possible), I would post some songs that resonate with me.

Now let me take a quick moment and put this disclaimer out there: I am not a music connoisseur. I never think to take cds with me when I'm driving, I haven't updated my iPod in four years, and the last time I paid for an album was circa 1998. When I'm with other people, I listen to whatever they like. When I'm by myself, I just listen to the radio (insert horrified *gasp* here!).

When someone asks me what kind of music I like, I usually just say "everything- I'm not picky." But just recently it dawned on me that the songs I've really liked over the years are nearly all of the "singer/songwriter" persuasion. I'm drawn to artists who write their own stuff. There's just a different quality about their work- it has added authenticity or more emotion or something. Simon & Garfunkel, Jewel, John Mayer. Their best songs come from their real-life experiences.

So here's the first installment. I'm putting the lyrics to this John Mayer song first, so that you can read what he's saying. I'll put the music video at the end- I'm not crazy about the video because I don't think it captures the multiple meanings behind the song. But at least you'll get to hear it.

John Mayer: Half Of My Heart (Featuring Taylor Swift) lyrics

I was born in the arms of imaginary friends
Free to roam made a home out of everywhere I've been
Then you come crashing in, like the realest thing
Trying my best to understand, all that your love can bring

Oh half of my heart has a grip on the situation
Half of my heart takes time
Half of my heart has a right mind to tell you that
I can't keep loving you (can't keep loving you)
Oh with half of my heart

I was made to believe I'd never love somebody else
Made a plan stay the man who could only love himself
Lonely was the song I sang, 'til the day you came
Showing me another way, and all that my love can bring

Oh half of my heart's got a grip on the situation
Half of my heart takes time
Half of my heart has a right mind to tell you that
I can't keep loving you (can't keep loving you)
Oh with half of my heart, with half of my heart

Your faith is strong, but I can only fall short for so long
Down the road, later on
You will hate that I never gave more to you
Than half of my heart

But I can't stop loving you (I can't stop loving you)
I can't stop loving you (I can't stop loving you)
I can't stop loving you, with half of my heart

Oh half of my heart
Half of my heart
Half of my heart has a real good imagination
Half of my hearts got you

Half of my hearts got a right mind to tell you that
Half of my heart won't do

Half of my heart in a shotgun wedding
To a bride with a paper ring

But half of my heart is the part of a man
Who's never truly loved anything

Half of my heart
Oh half of my heart
Half of my heart
Oh half of my heart

Gettin' In

2010-06-22T10:31:00.002-04:00

Psalm 40:7-8

Gift from the Sea

2010-06-21T10:47:00.005-04:00

Excerpt from the chapter Channelled Whelk:

For life today in America is based on the premise of ever-widening circles of contact and communication. It involves not only family demands, but community demands, national demands, international demands on the good citizen, through social and cultural pressures, through newspapers, magazines, radio programs, political drives, charitable appeals, and so on. My mind reels with it. What a circus act we women perform every day of our lives. It puts the trapeze artist to shame. Look at us. We run a tight rope daily, balancing a pile of books on the head. Baby-carriage, parasol, kitchen chair, still under control. Steady now!

This is not the life of simplicity but the life of multiplicity that the wise men warn us of. It leads not to unification but to fragmentation. It does not bring grace; it destroys the soul. And this is not only true of my life, I am forced to conclude; it is the life of millions of women in America. I stress America, because today, the American woman more than any other has the privilege of choosing such a life. Woman in large parts of the civilized world has been forced back by war, by poverty, by collapse, by the sheer struggle to survive, into a smaller circle of immediate time and space, immediate family life, immediate problems of existence. The American woman is still relatively free to choose the wider life...

For to be a woman is to have interests and duties, raying out in all directions from the central mother-core, like spokes from the hub of a wheel. The pattern of our lives is essentially circular. We must be open to all points of the compass: husband, children, friends, home, community; stretched out, exposed, sensitive like a spider's web to each breeze that blows, to each call that comes. How difficult for us, then, to achieve a balance in the midst of these contradictory tensions, and yet how necessary for the proper functioning of our lives. How much we need, and how arduous of attainment is that steadiness preached in all the rules for holy living. (italics added)

Graveyard, Part 2

2010-06-21T10:26:00.004-04:00

Photo by me

Do you show your wonders to the dead?
Do those who are dead rise up and praise you?
Is your love declared in the grave, your faithfulness in Destruction?
Are your wonders known in the place of darkness...

...darkness is my closest friend. (selections from Psalm 88)

Recently I came across this psalm and loved the imagery and desperate questioning. I've just spent a wonderful week at the beach (well, the Jersey shore, to be more precise) and I'll write about that soon. But I just keep seeing graveyards.

Thirtieth Thoughts

2010-05-26T23:04:00.006-04:00

Swing
photo by Keith

Today is the start of a new decade for me. I am now 30. A friend asked me tonight, over chimichangas, what this coming year would hold. My mind immediately flashed back to earlier this afternoon when I was pushing my 12-month old in our backyard swing. It was 5pm and both girls were awake from their naps. Lily was chasing the dog around our yard and I had put Beret into the baby swing. It was hot today, and the swing set was still in full sun. I pushed her for a while, sweating, wishing the sun would set faster or that Keith would get home sooner. Suddenly Beret started doing something that I never remember Lily doing. She tossed her head as far back as the swing seat would let her. And she kept her head back, eyes closed to the blazing sun, and quietly jabbered to herself. She was the personification of peace and contentedness. She was living in the moment like only a child can.

I hope and pray that in this, my thirty-first year, I will become more childlike, more accepting of each moment- good or bad. I hope that I can throw my head back and face the sun.

Graveyard, Part 1

2010-04-15T13:14:00.002-04:00

She welcomes everyone in; she doesn't discriminate.
They need a place to go; she feels so sympathetic.
Someone must love them, right? Can't she show them that love?
This is their final stop. She is their final stop.

(Gravestones: Do they symbolize death or life?)

despicable weeds

2010-04-05T23:01:00.009-04:00

(even on the beautiful Italian Riviera, weeds find their place!)

This past weekend the weather was picture perfect-- clear skies, warm sun, birds chirping. Keith and I spent Saturday afternoon tackling our yard. He took care of the lawn, the trimming, and even cut back the bushes and trees that were encroaching on our space. I did the beds. Let me just say that I love yard work. I love flowers. I love mulch. I even like weeding, because after I'm done, the remaining flowers look so healthy and ready to grow. But there's one thing I hate about our property: it sits on a walled corner, and one whole side is defined by a stone wall. I hate where the wall meets the street. Rock meets rock. And what grows in the cracks? Weeds. Nasty weeds. The kind you can't pull out or chemically kill. The kind you can hack at all day long and never reach the roots. I HATE these weeds. And year after year, I pull them, cut them, and spray them. And by the next week, they're back in full force. I've rubbed my fingers raw, burnt my hunched shoulders, and nearly been run over by speeding vehicles innumerable times.

So this weekend I was crouching, pulling these weeds AGAIN, and I just started hacking at them. I mean, taking my hand-held trowel and beating the cracks in the blacktop. I told myself, hey, this is your opportunity to get out your aggression, Lauren! And just like that, the anger flooded out. I started beating the weeds- just doing anything I could to get to the roots. And I couldn't do it. I couldn't dig through the street. And I just got angrier and angrier: it's not right; if I make the effort, the serious effort, to get rid of the weeds, then they should go away, or grow less quickly, or be less resilient. I've wasted countless hours beating these same weeds. They just grow back. They mock me. They make my house ugly and they show me I'm useless. I've tried everything; there's no lasting solution. Apparently I just have to keep fighting the same weeds week after week after year after year.

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. There is nothing worse than recognizing the terrible weeds in your own life and feeling helpless to stop them. What's the point? Why bother? Where is God and why the ---- doesn't he bother to help? I know there are many "Christian" answers to this, but I can honestly say they've never meant LESS to me than they do now. It's all crap. I'm just going to be fighting the same weeds EVERY DAY for the rest of my life.

I hate the weeds. I really do. But more importantly, I hate fighting the weeds. I'm so tired.

A deliberate conclusion

2010-03-06T19:16:00.004-05:00

After months of consideration (and lets face it, procrastination), I've come to the conclusion that it's time for me to abandon my quest of living and blogging deliberately for one year. It was a nice idea. In another life, I'll be able to juggles two small kids and this blog. And I won't say that it was an impossible endeavor. But I now realize that it requires more than I am willing to sacrifice. So for those who came along for the journey, thanks for 3 solid months! I still have things I want to write about, but my blog will now take a more low-key approach. In other words, I'll write when I can. I'm a little disappointed in myself, but what else is new, right? haha. Onward and upward...

Update

2010-02-01T22:37:00.003-05:00

I'm not posting these days. Obviously. It just seems like I don't have the time. While this is technically true, we all know that we can always make time for the things that are most important to us. So maybe this isn't important enough anymore. Or maybe it's all I can do to take care of my house and kids... and cook, and exercise, and run the ESL program, and make time for friends and Biblestudy... and all this while I take care of my "mommy's girl" baby.

I feel torn in a million directions every day. I hate nursing but Beret loves it. I love cheese but Beret hates it. I want to be outside but it's stinkin' cold. I want to see my friends but I want to be left alone. I want to help other people but I want help myself. I want to sleep but I hate going to bed early. I love to cook but I can't eat half of what I make.

The list could go on. But whatever. I'm not foolish enough to believe that I'm the only one who feels this way. And I don't have any conclusions. So I guess I don't know what to say.

The Best Part of Christmas

2009-12-25T22:49:00.002-05:00

I'm planning on starting to blog again regularly very soon. I promise.

Twice the JOY

2009-12-08T22:53:00.005-05:00

I really didn't know anything about Sara Groves before tonight. But she was giving a Christmas concert at my church and a bunch of my girlfriends were going. A night out with Christmas music and friends? It sounded good to me.

There are about 20 amazing things I could report from tonight: Sara is insightful, honest, funny, and grounded. And she clearly talks with God.

But here's what inspired me to type tonight: she sang a song that she wrote for her 3 closest friends- the ones who have carried her and the ones she, in turn, has helped carry. Through the pain.

The refrain of the song was this: "Life with you is half the burden and twice the joy." A similar version of the song is here. Perhaps the only thing greater than joy is the opportunity to experience joy with the ones we love. How appropriate for this season.

Life with you is half the burden and twice the joy.

Nothing

2009-12-05T09:38:00.003-05:00

Well, it's been quite a long stretch since I've written anything. I have lots of things to write and report, but every time I sit down, nothing comes out. I'm even having trouble emailing friends. I hope to be up and typing again soon.

The Cheese Addiction

2009-11-23T22:38:00.005-05:00

When I initially thought about cutting out all dairy products, I was like "ok, no milk on my cereal, no yogurt with my fruit, no cheese on my sandwiches." Ha. If only.

I cannot believe how much I'm not eating these days. Tonight I made chicken quesadillas-- I had to stop myself from eating a wedge at least six times! oh the melted cheese, the sour cream!

Well, the reality is that Beret is markedly better now that I'm off dairy. I regret this decision about 10 times a day, but at least I have a happier baby. She giggles so much more now. And I dream about cheese pizzas each night.

On the upside, I went to the doctor last week and have apparently lost about 20 pounds since the morning of my delivery. To be honest, I'm not sure if I could have lost that much weight if I was still able to eat cheese and butter-- no amount of exercise could counteract my voracious appetite for broccoli cheese soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, or creamy mashed potatoes. (I KNOW!) mmm... yummy, yummy, yummy. I can't wait for the day when Beret decides she's done nursing: I'll be throwing myself a pizza party :)

Sidebar

2009-11-22T23:04:00.003-05:00

I love photographs. I love that my husband is a great photographer. I love this age of digital photography where we can take a hundred shots in order to get one good one. I love that I have a family blog so that our friends and loved ones who live far away can keep up with our kids and our lives.

Having said that, sometimes more is just that: more. Since having my girls, I've felt this pressure to record every moment of their lives. Maybe I feel this way because we have family members living on several different continents. Maybe I feel this way because Facebook now encourages us to create a photo album for every single birthday, home renovation, and playdate that passes us by. But whatever the reason, maybe more isn't more; maybe less is more.

I put together some photo albums for my parents a couple years ago. Yes, there were hundreds of photos to organize. But considering my folks had four kids with birthdays each year, and Christmases, and summer vacations, the number of commemorative photos was surprisingly lacking. True, technology was quite different 20+ years ago. But still, there were times when a whole year of my life could only be represented by three or four photos. At the time, I was shocked. But perhaps the other extreme is just as shocking. I literally have thousands of pictures from Lily's first two years of life. It's an overwhelming feeling. There are times when I think my daughters have to be dressed up and cute each moment of each day because we never know when we might want to snap a picture. Honestly, this can be grueling.

So I guess what I've been thinking lately is this: In general, more is more, more is good. It's good to fill up our days with meaningful moments, intentional actions, and quality interactions. But there's a limit. And if I get to the point where I'm more concerned that I record a moment in history instead of living in it, then maybe that's too much. Then maybe less is more. Living the perfect life through a camera lens at the expense of getting in the shot myself... that's probably not worth it.

Deliberateness- yes, that's a word; at least, it should be

2009-11-19T23:43:00.002-05:00

Today seemed kind of boring to me, but it was deliberate. So, since I haven't posted a "deliberate" day in a while, I thought I'd record this one:

7:15- my alarm went off. I ignored it.
7:30- Beret started fussing. I didn't ignore her. I got her fed and dressed before Lily awoke.
8:00- I got Lily up and dressed and let her watch PBS while she drank her morning Chocolate Milk (mostly milk, very little choc)
9:00- I drove the girls to my mom's house so that Lils could spend the morning with my mom... and so that I could enjoy a morning pretending I only had one kid!
10:00- I had to wake B up so that I could take us to a doctor's appt for me. It went well.
11:00- Ran to the grocery store for some essentials.
12:30- Mom brought Lily home and I got both girls sufficiently "fed"
1:00- Keith drove by in his truck- Lily and I stood outside and waved as he drove by :)
1:30- the girls napped. I folded 4 loads of laundry, then napped a bit myself
3:30- Lily woke up from her nap and started calling for me. I crawled in bed with her and we read books for a while
5:00- Sloppy Joes and french fries for dinner
5:30- I took the girls to the bank and the drug store- they love being in the car, and this gave K the opportunity to check his email in peace :)
6:30- The Shred. Thanks to Jillian Michaels. And to Keith, for holding Beret.
8:00- Lily in bed
8:30- Beret in bed
9:00- The Office

All in all, a good day. And I didn't have to plan this out ahead. So maybe being deliberate with my time is getting easier? Maybe. Or more likely, I'm finding satisfaction in the small things.

Colorful Crocs

2009-11-18T23:53:00.003-05:00

Myles

This past Monday night I went over to my friend Laurel's house for wine, snacks, and scrubbing. That's right. I even brought my own scrub brush. Four of my girlfriends have started a non-profit to help Rwandan orphans. Their first initiative was to collect 200 new and used pairs of crocs. Crocs are the perfect footwear for their part of Africa: they're durable, cool, and easy to clean.

Confession time: I have a secret love of cleaning plastic objects. I can scrub the heck out of them and they look so pretty afterward! Aggression and perfection wrapped up in a ball of productivity- what could be neater?!

Anyway, I was happily scrubbing dirty crocs with my friends when I saw the two pairs of Lily's crocs that I had donated at the end of the summer. Someone else was cleaning them. Now, Lily wore these shoes nearly every day- including Sundays- all summer. And every night I would throw a pair in the kitchen sink and scrub out the dirt and stinkiness. And now these shoes were being washed Stateside for the last time. And two other children will be wearing them soon.

I'm not an overly sentimental person, especially when it comes to giving things away (much to my husband's chagrin!). But seeing Lily's tiny shoes washed and tied and boxed up... well, I was glad I was invited to that party. Lily got good use out of those crocs, and now some other little girls will too.

Btw- that's Myles up there with all the new donated crocs. The shoes are going to all the kids he left behind when Laurel and Peter adopted him six months ago. Click on his name for their story.

Self-image

2009-11-16T22:50:00.004-05:00

ok, here's the thing with working out, a.k.a. exercising. I do it because it's healthy for me, because I have more energy and need less sleep. These are good things. But the bottom line is that I want to lose my last 10ish pounds of baby weight. The same 10 pounds that I didn't lose after having Lily. And since I don't plan on being pregnant again for a good couple of years, now is the time to "get my body back." If I can. Let me just say that I know I'm not overweight right now. But for me and my not-yet-30 self image, I'd like to look a little different. I'm just going to put this out there: I wish my cheeks, arms, and waist were smaller. There, I said it. So that's why I'm trying to exercise more and NOT eat my weight in bread each day :)

One of the main reasons I keep this blog is to keep myself accountable. Even if no one ever reads what I write, I know that it's out there and that people could "know." This helps to keep me grounded. So if you're reading this, Thank You.

As for exercise, I didn't manage to do it today, but I plan on doing The Shred tomorrow :) I'm also into Kettlebells, which will require its own post one of these days. And the no-dairy diet is a blessing in disguise: I'm amazed at how many less calories I'm consuming these days. Apparently I have a real addiction to cheese. I'm not kidding! This, too, could require a whole post. I guess I have my work cut out for me...

The Second Loaf

2009-11-13T22:06:00.006-05:00

Now that I can make my own deliciousness any time I want, my question is this: How will I keep from gaining like, a hundred pounds??? Seriously people, if I can't eat cheese, then shouldn't I be allowed to eat my weight in bread each day?!

The Blahs

2009-11-12T21:23:00.003-05:00

I think I've hit a plateau. Or I've become disillusioned. Or a week inside with sick kids is just getting me down.

In any case, I'm getting things done and I even set a new goal today, but emotionally I feel drained, wasted. I'm going through the motions, but I'm checked out. Does this mean I'm not being deliberate right now? Yeah, I think so.

I think I'm living off of lists and ideals right now, instead of living in the moment. Not sure how to change that.

By the way- my bread turned out VERY yummy. It's from a book called Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day. Here's the recipe. Keith kindly took a picture of my second loaf tonight, so hopefully I'll upload a shot of my success soon...

This morning I...

2009-11-11T12:00:00.002-05:00

... woke up in Lily's bed at 3am- she was asking me for more "vitamins" (that's what we call her Motrin chewables. She won't eat medicine, it's "too spicy." ah, the mysterious world of toddlers.)
... brought her some water and a motrin only to find her passed out in her bed just minutes after waking me up. I quietly tiptoed out of her room and got to sleep in my own bed for the next three hours :)
... put fake, non-dairy powdered creamer in my morning coffee. It's really not that bad. And hey, I may have to give up dairy, but that doesn't mean I'll give up my coffee too!
... attempted to make homemade bread from scratch. My very homemaker-savvy friend Emily brought me some split-pea soup and a loaf of bread a couple weeks ago. Keith and I nearly died and went to heaven. She gave me her recipes, so tonight we're having the soup and- hopefully- a loaf of her wonderful bread. However, I just took a peak at the dough and I don't see much rising going on. This may be a bad sign.

Well, that was my morning.

And the cool thing going on right now is this: Beret is lying on the living room floor playing with a rattle and cooing at a Baby Einstein dvd. That's right, cooing, not crying! This is the first time I have ever been able to put her down for more than a minute without her crying or screaming. What a delight. I think my dairy-fast might be paying off.

Sickies

2009-11-10T11:13:00.002-05:00

Lily and I woke up Sunday morning with head colds and fevers. And then last night Beret got sick too! I pretty much stumbled back and forth across my hallway between Lily's room, Beret's room, and my own bed from 3-6am. It's so pathetic to hear a five-month-old baby hack and sneeze... :(

Moo?

2009-11-05T22:49:00.008-05:00

Well, God certainly has a sense of humor. Or something.

I talked with Beret's pediatrician again today. She's now on Prevacid and Zantac for her acid reflux issues. I'm also giving her rice cereal to help calm her throat. But she's still pretty uncomfortable and miserable. So the next step? I'm supposed to stop eating all dairy products, since everything that I eat affects the milk that Beret drinks.

milk
butter
yogurt
ice cream
cheese

CHEESE? Seriously??? This is devastating news for me. I can manage without milk or butter, but cheese? I love cheese! I could survive very happily on cheeseburgers and pizza for the rest of my life! ugh... this is a nightmare...

So, today was my first day of no dairy... EVER! I couldn't eat the mac and cheese for lunch or the pizza for dinner. Instead, I had plain pasta with EVOO and salt and pepper. It was better than I thought it would be, actually. But still, not cheese.

The good news? I exercised today for the 4th day in a row! yahoo! My lovely neighbor Nancy loaned me a Biggest Loser dvd by Jillian. I did it yesterday and today. Twenty-seven minutes of weights, cardio, and abs. oh yeah, I'm feelin' it.

hmm... I think I'll go eat some cheese now. Just kidding. Maybe. Apparently I have no self-control.

Trick w Tongue

2009-11-04T23:58:00.005-05:00

Today Beret learned that if she sticks her tongue between her lips and blows, Mommy and Lily will laugh out loud. This was the highlight of her day, and mine. Even at 11:15 pm, when everyone else had long since fallen asleep, Beret felt the need to keep showing me her new trick. It's a good thing Beret can redeem hours of fussing/crying by spraying saliva all over her own face. Cutie.

Pomegranates

2009-11-03T21:58:00.007-05:00

I'm really starting to enjoy living more deliberately. I am by no means utilizing every moment to its fullest potential, but it's so rewarding for me to anticipate my day and attempt some meaningful things. Here are my deliberate moments from today:

- I dropped Beret off at Aunt Carol's house for the morning and took Lily to Folklore Coffee & Co. We visited with a few friends, I enjoyed a cup of decaf, and Lil and I snuggled on the couch and read all her favorite books that I had thrown in my purse. Going on a date with my daughter was such fun.

- I scored and opened a pomegranate for the first time in my life. Then I pulled out all the arils and ate them with vanilla yogurt. Yum!

- I exercised for the second day in a row. Another 30 minutes on the treadmill, another 200 calories burned. Just typing that makes me feel good :)

These small things keep me from focusing on the mundane details that filled the rest of this day: an unhappy infant at naptime, a random dinner of leftovers, and a good 2 hours of bouncing Beret in the evening, trying to keep her from crying. Thank God for aunties who offer free babysitting, for decaf coffee, and for unusual fruits.

Exercise!

2009-11-02T21:41:00.002-05:00

November is exercise month!

To start this month off right, I set my alarm for 6am this morning... and promptly snoozed until 7:30. What can I say, I'm a driven person :)

Okay, seriously. The truth is that I can't do any cardio in the morning until after I've fed Beret. This will probably be true until I stop nursing altogether. But I can get other things done before the girls get up so that I'm free to exercise when B takes her morning nap. So really, by sleeping in this morning, I skipped cleaning, not exercise. Since exercise is my top priority this month, it's the first thing I'll do when I have a free moment to myself.

This morning I walked/jogged on my treadmill for half an hour and burned 200 calories. Pre-baby, this would be a fraction of my total calories... post-baby, this is quite an accomplishment. So I'm feeling pretty good about myself right now :)

Making Choices

2009-11-01T19:19:00.006-05:00

I feel as though I have many "small" hurdles in my life right now, and I'm constantly trying to assess which things are necessary and good, and which can be cut out. I've been dancing around two things for the past week: teaching in Lily's Sunday School class, and nursing Beret...

One Sunday per month I volunteer in our church's nursery, and one Sunday per month I volunteer in Lily's 2-year-old class. I just started helping in Lily's class this Fall; I thought it was a good idea at the time. But chasing 10 toddlers for an hour and a half while hoping NOT to get paged out to go get my own screaming infant from her room has proved to be more stressful than I originally thought. Shocking, I know. In fact, multiple people- including the woman who runs the nursery ministry- said NOT to help with both classes! Did I listen? No. I'm superwoman, after all. So lately I've been toying with the idea of going back to the woman who coordinates the volunteers and asking her to find a replacement for me. But something is stopping me.

Second thing: nursing. Let me just say that I do not enjoy nursing; I'm just not one of those moms. But I do hate paying for formula and I don't want Beret to be at risk for contracting the flu before she's 6 months old. So I'm dutifully nursing. Last week I saw Beret's pediatrician, and she recommended putting some rice cereal in a bottle once or twice a day to help calm Beret's raging acid reflux. (Remember all that screaming? Well, it seems to have gotten better now that she is on Prevacid and eating rice cereal. phew.) Anyway, now that B is taking a bottle regularly, she clearly MUCH prefers this to nursing. She likes the control of holding her own bottle... she can look around, munch on the nipple, you get the idea. So I've been tempted to abandon nursing and switch to bottles. But something is stopping me.

So: What's stopping me? I've mulled it over these past few days, and I believe it boils down to pride. In both cases, whether my reasons are justified or not, I feel I should continue. I could say that I'm keeping my commitments. I could say that I'm doing my duty. I could say that these things simply aren't that big of a deal. But that's not the root of the issue for me.

My pride says, "You have to look good, Lauren. You have to do the "right," the "best" thing in every situation. You've got to be the best possible mom and everyone should know it."

Yep, I'm pretty sure that's a cold dish of pride, served with a side of narcissism and a hint of self-indulgence.

Anyway. Having recognized my pride for what it is, I've made two decisions: I'm going to ask to be relieved of my toddler class duties after the new year (even though I might look bad for backing out of a commitment). I'm going to continue to nurse and supplement for as long as I can stand it (health and finance are valid reasons).

So the final verdict? Class duties: NAY. Nursing: YEA. I think I've made these decisions the right way, by recognizing my underlying pride and forcing it out of the equation. It's in instances like this when I realize just how sneaky Pride is.

Quote

2009-10-28T12:43:00.003-04:00

I keep going back to a paragraph I recently read in the book Walking with God, by John Eldredge:

"God always has his eye on your transformation. This is good news, by the way. All of the other things we long for in life- love and friendship, freedom and wholeness, clarity of purpose, all the joy we long for- it all depends on our restoration. You can't find or keep good friends while you are still an irritating person to be around. And there is no way love can flourish while you are still controlling. You can't find your real purpose in life while you're still slavishly serving other people's expectations of you. You can't find peace while you're ruled by fear. You can't enjoy what you have while you're envying what the other guys has. On and on it goes."

Apparently Mr. Eldredge wrote this book just for me! I'm sure I'll have things to say about this in the near future. Right now, I'm going to go comb Lily's hair in my sparkling-clean bathroom :)

Back On the Wagon

2009-10-27T12:22:00.002-04:00

I've taken quite a hiatus from posting. But I believe it's time for me to buckle down again, so here goes.

First things first, I mentioned a while back that I would pick one area per month to focus on. October is about cleaning and housework. I'm proud to announce that the dog fur and dust bunnies are wafting happily across my hardwood floors as I type. That's right. At best, I've cleaned once this month. What can I say, I'm an all-or-nothing person. Apparently this was a nothing month.

I've spent all my would-be cleaning time lately thinking about how I should be cleaning ;) And thanks to all of you who provided feedback, I'm happy to report my decision:

Housework: I plan to clean one room each weekday. At this rate, I should be able to completely clean my house on a two-week cycle (I'm factoring in a few "off" days. I love that I'm such a generous person!) So today I believe I'll start with the bathroom and then the rest of this week I'll work my way through the upstairs before heading downstairs.

Posting

2009-10-21T13:01:00.004-04:00

ok, so I think it's pretty obvious that I haven't had much time to post here lately. I loved the idea of posting every day, but apparently it's not possible. I feel so busy. Too busy. I'm doing too many things that I "should" be doing and not enough of what I "want" to be doing. I'm doing good things and I'm not wasting much time each day. So as far as being deliberate, things are going well. But it's not making me happy. If anything, I'm feeling a little bit sad. I'm not doing enough and yet it's already too much.

Weight

2009-10-18T22:16:00.002-04:00

You know those times when your heart feels inadequate? When you feel pain, but you know it's not ENOUGH pain? When you know you've got it good, but you know you don't know HOW good you've got it?

Keith and I and the girls spent Saturday night with a bunch of our international friends. At one point my friend *W* and I were nursing our babies together and she confessed how lonely she is... she was a doctor in China: she had a career, the admiration of academic peers, friends. Now she cannot work (no H1 visa); she has no car; she cannot speak English adequately; she has NO friends. She sits at home all day with her fussy 3-month-old son and her disapproving mother-in-law. She's going crazy, understandably. And I can't fix it for her. I can't even really understand how bad she feels. I know that there are people suffering all over the world. But there are people suffering right here in affluent Hershey, Pennsylvania.

Sometimes my heart feels too heavy. And the truth is, I know I'm not even feeling the full weight.

Rainy Days

2009-10-16T23:44:00.004-04:00

Most of this week has been cold and rainy and miserable. I had the luxury of spending all of the day Thursday inside with my two girls. I ran no errands, did no chores, kept no play-dates. We all slept in (8am), watched PBS on tv, made grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, played with Aidan for an hour while his mommy ran an errand, took good naps (B's was nearly 4 hours long!), and had chimichangas for dinner (a new recipe for me-- yum! Thanks to my "deliberate" planning I already had all the ingredients I needed- it's so wonderful to plan a week's worth of meals in advance so that I don't have to go out on miserable days!)

Anyway, since Beret took a four-hour nap, Lily and I had time to spend together *alone* in the afternoon. We read books. I love reading to Lily. We sit in the rocking chair in her room, and she dictates which books she wants to have read to her, and I comply. I love it. We're into Dr. Seuss right now, but her fave book is "Ducklings." Make Way for Ducklings is a classic; I remember my mother reading it to me when I was young. There is nothing in the world like reading a classic story about ducks in Boston while the rain is pelting on your windows. I love the charcoal sketches; I love the mobster cars; I love the "quack-quack-quacking" of the ducklings. Thursday was a perfect day because I was able to sit with my darling two-year-old (not an oxymoron, although some days you might think it is!) and read great books and snuggle with just her. This is the benefit of deliberate living.

Suggestions?

2009-10-11T22:27:00.003-04:00

As I mentioned last week, I'm trying to focus on housework this month. Here's my cleaning dilemma: Do I clean a little bit of my house each day, or do I just blow a whole morning or afternoon once a week and do as much as I can then? Before kids I did the former; for the last two years I've done the latter. I hate spending so much time in my home every day and constantly feeling the need to clean. I want to decide on a system, do it, and not fuss about it at any other time. Suggestions? Solutions? Anecdotes? I welcome them...

Crazy

2009-10-10T23:29:00.003-04:00

This past week has been crazy busy.

I should really be in bed, but it's been so many days since I've posted anything...

Beret seems to be doing better now that I've increased her acid reflux medication. I realized on Tuesday that she was taking her dosage based on her original 6 pound status. Now that she's over 12 pounds, she needs to be taking nearly twice the originally prescribed amount. I don't know WHY it took me so many days to realize this, but I talked with a nurse and got her script updated and now she seems to be doing better. The screaming this week has been ridiculous. But I think the meds are working. I put her to bed tonight when she was still awake and she quietly looked around and talked to herself until she fell asleep. That's my good girl :)

Other deliberate activities this week:
- My mom graciously took Lily 3 mornings this week, enabling me to do some much-needed cleaning :)
- Keith and I took the girls to the Antique Auto show on Thursday night: a fun family adventure!
-I spent time with three international moms, an Indian with a three-week old son Jonathan, a Chinese woman with a three-month old Alex, and a Cameroonian mother of nine: I was blessed by each of them, and yet so heartbroken too
- I made chicken pot pies for my fam on Friday night, and my brother and sister-in-law came down from upstate to hang out for the night- SO great to see them!

I would love to write more, but I should really be sleeping. The dishwasher is running, the laundry is out of the dryer (not folded, but at least clean!), and the toys are picked up. I hope to post again soon...

My Glass Door

2009-10-06T22:23:00.003-04:00

I have a glass door that leads out of my kitchen into an attached storage space. Since we don't use this area as part of our living space, I tend to forget the door completely. But last month I was feeling so frazzled that I took a dry-erase marker and started scribbling things down on the pane of glass. Every day I would jot things down and then erase them when they were no longer relevant.

Since then my ambitions have expanded: I've dug out three different colors of markers. I write on-going To Buy lists, To Do lists, To Pray For lists, etc. Big ideas, small ideas, whatever. I've found two benefits to this:

First, my brain is less cluttered and I feel less stressed! If it's written down then I don't have to worry about remembering it. Also, since it's written on a stationary object, I don't have to be afraid of losing the lists (or that little fingers will "helpfully" throw them out!).

Second- and more importantly- I'm getting more things done! However big, however small, I walk by that door dozens of times each day, and it is a constant reminder of how I can be deliberate with my time. And not in a bad way. I don't glance at the lists and feel guilty; I love lists! I get inspired by the things I have finished and can erase, and I get energized by the things that are left and won't take as much time/effort as they feel! And at the end 0f the day, like right now, I can head to bed feeling that I have gotten the most important things done today (note: not ALL the things on my lists are done, just the most significant. That actually helps me to feel LESS guilty.).

Goals

2009-10-05T22:21:00.003-04:00

There are so many areas of my life that need to be defined, refined:

finances
holidays
free time
family time
prayer
housework
cooking
exercise
yard work

At the moment I'm thinking that maybe I'll pick one of these for each month, kind of like a theme.

October : housework
November : exercise
December : holiday celebration/commemoration

I think this will help me to focus on being deliberate.
For now, I'm headed to bed with the knowledge that everything but my kitchen floor is in desperate need of a good cleaning. Thank God it's only October 5th :)

p.s. Yes, Beret is still screaming a lot. No, I haven't figured out why. But the good news is, the past two days have been better Saturday. Not that that's some kind of amazing feat :)

A new Low-Point

2009-10-04T21:45:00.003-04:00

Saturday was a low point. At least, I hope it was.

Beret has been crying, nay screaming, for days now. It's common knowledge that army interrogators use sleep-deprivation and constant noise to "torture" prisoners. Boy, have I felt tortured. So after a miserable Friday night with Beret, I awoke to a miserable Saturday morning with Beret. Even though I was grouchy and angry, I tried my best to remain civil to Keith and Lily. After an hour or two of morning fussing/crying, I locked myself in the bathroom with Beret, let her scream while I took a quick shower, and then took her to Target: at least I was out of the house and getting something accomplished. That afternoon I was looking forward to getting a nap, but Beret's screaming was so loud that I could hear her through her noise machine, my noise machine, and my ear plugs. But still, I tried to keep my cool. We went over to my folks' house for dinner; and at 7pm I was walking Beret up and down our street while the bath-time ritual was being performed in my house. This is where the irony comes in: I spent those few minutes praying specifically that I would be good to my husband and thanking God that I had managed to pull off a "good" day in spite of my lack of sleep and patience. I had even thought of the blog post I would write later on. I thought I had this day in the bag!

Fast forward to 9:30. Beret has been screaming for two hours and I've already done EVERYTHING I'm supposed to do. She won't calm down and I am SO, SO angry. As I'm rocking her upstairs for the millionth time, I think to myself, "I have to get away. I'm getting in my car and driving away..." In my mind, I had two options: I could get in my car and drive and just keep on driving FOREVER, or I could drive to Giant, buy formula, and delude myself into believing that if I just weened my baby I wouldn't feel so TRAPPED.

So after calmly laying my baby in her crib, I marched hysterically down the stairs and screeched at my husband that I was going off to the grocery store to buy formula and that I was NEVER breastfeeding my child again!

It was not a good night.

I'm recording this for a couple of reasons. Some people might think that I'm good, or good enough. I'm not. I'm a rotten person who has serious anger issues. Another reason: accountability. I can't keep treating my husband like this. Another reason: I'm hoping that one of these blog entries will be "rock bottom" and that I'll start finding a way up.

Infant

2009-10-02T22:20:00.003-04:00

It's official. I don't like being the mommy of an infant. I happen to think that Beret is awfully darn cute, but she has certainly been trying my patience these past 3 days. Fussing, crying, not napping well. Tonight she screamed for the better part of 3 hours. I walked her, bounced her, changed her, bathed her (twice), stripped her down to check for anything that might be hurting her, and nursed and nursed and nursed her. She's finally asleep for good, I hope.

I definitely prefer Lily's age to Beret's. Sometimes I'm sad I don't get to spend more one-on-one time with Lily; she's really a delightful toddler. She's so good, in fact, that she doesn't mind that I spend most of every day making sure Beret is okay. I can't wait for B to be a little bit older... when both girls can take a bath together and be in bed by 8pm. Then maybe I'll get some QT back with my husband.

Good Day

2009-09-30T23:01:00.006-04:00

I have so many thoughts, but it's late (what else is new?). This week is going better than last, believe it or not. So I thought I'd jot down what my deliberate day looked like today:

- The girls were up at 7:00ish, which really isn't bad except that I stayed up till 1am the night before gabbing with my mom (LOVE her!).

- I got the girls bathed and dressed and milked (as in, they both got their morning milk-intake. haha) and drove over to my mother's house to leave Lily there with her for the morning (did I mention I LOVE my mom?!).

- Beret and I went back home and I made a meal for a friend and put two more in my freezer for myself.

- A sweet girlfriend stopped by for an hour while her eldest was in pre-school, and we had great conversation, decent decaf coffee, and only one terrible spill down my staircase by her one-year-old.

- My mother brought Lily home after lunch and we all took NAPS....

- Then Keith got home early, so he took care of the girls while I drove out to Manheim to deliver the meal. Amy is an amazing girl who I have the privilege to pray for on a regular basis. I was so happy to get to meet her two kids.

- Back home, I made chicken quesadillas for dinner (thank goodness my husband and daughter aren't picky eaters!) and then organized the ESL classes for the night while K hauled my boxes out to the car.

- ESL classes went well, and we're still getting more students: tonight I registered a Chinese research student and the Sudanese wife of one of the "Lost Boys" who recently emigrated to the U.S.

- I finished the night off by putting my baby girl to sleep and staying up to watch a crime drama tv show. I am a sucker for dumb tv, especially if a glass of wine is involved :)

- Now I'm off to read my latest Agatha Christie novel until I fall asleep (I'm guessing that'll take about 3 minutes).

That's All Folks!

(clarification)

2009-09-29T10:14:00.002-04:00

(The blog on Character that I just posted seems a little angry or bitter to me. Here's the background: in HS I knew the cool kids, but was never really one of them. This was the same in college, grad school, etc. The thing is, I have always known what I would need to "do" to get into that group, but when the chips were down, it just wasn't me. I guess that's what I was trying to say in the last post. My ideal is Arwen, but I'm not her, in part, because I don't do the things that would make me become her. Right now, the "in" crowd I'm thinking of is people who do amazing acts of service for others, be it kids, friends, or strangers. I know I don't have that big of a "heart." So I guess my question is, should I attempt to grow my heart and join those groups, or am I a different kind of person with a different role?)

Character

2009-09-29T09:45:00.003-04:00

The One Ring

One of the reasons I haven't been posting over the weekends is that Keith and I have been slowly watching our way through the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I read the books years ago, but have never watched the movies in succession. I'm not usually a fan of books-turned-movies, but Peter Jackson does a darn good job. I feel like I could start a whole other blog devoted solely to the life-lessons taught by Tolkien.

Anyway. I might post a couple of thoughts on this story, but here's my little thought for tonight:

What if the character you think of yourself as isn't the character you actually are? What if you think of yourself as say, Arwen (I picked this one because I am AWARE that I am not nearly caring or faithful enough to be her in any way!), but you realize that all your friends treat you as Gimli? What if you think you're one of the cool kids, and then it turns out that you're not? That became obvious to me today. I mean, the realization that I'm not part of the "in" crowd didn't hurt as much as it did in high school, but still, it stings. And the irony is that I'm probably not compassionate, vulnerable, or open-minded enough to be part of the in-crowd that I'd like to join.

The only thing worse than not being cool is not being cool because you're not "good" enough.

Bring on the Guilt.

So who am I, and who do I want to be, and who is God creating me to be? These may be three entirely different people. In fact, I hope they are. But maybe, once my wounded pride has recovered a little, I'll write about which LOTR's character I most identify with.

(check out the clarification on this post.)

scattered

2009-09-26T00:17:00.003-04:00

I think this is the fourth time I've started this post. I keep deleting and starting over.

My thoughts are these:

This week was difficult. Not necessarily un-deliberate, but just messy and emotional and tiring. I snapped at Keith a lot. I let Beret cry herself to sleep one night (I literally put earplugs in at 3am bc I thought I might shake that baby girl if I had to go get her one more time!). I wished that I was far away on a deserted island where the only noise I heard was intelligent dialogue about something relevant. No crying. No fussing. Heaven forbid, no screaming.

I didn't exercise at all. Not really. But my back does seem to be recovering a little, perhaps because I've been trying to lie perfectly still while I sleep at night.

I spent the early part of Thursday evening walking up and down my street, holding Beret and trying to pray. I decided to tell God all the things I'm thankful for. I'm ashamed to say I ran out of things to say very quickly. I was soon tempted to start making my "prayer requests." But I didn't. I spent the the half-hour thanking God or saying nothing at all. I'm afraid this does not speak well of my character. I have been blessed abundantly, and yet my instinct is to complain, to envy, to covet.

It's Friday night. I'm tired. I can see enough of the big picture to not count this week as a total loss, but at the moment I just want to finish my glass of wine and call it a night.

Back

2009-09-23T23:22:00.002-04:00

I wasn't going to post today because of the ESL craziness that happens on Wednesday. But now it turns out that Beret is an insomniac tonight and would rather play under her little "gym" than sleep. So we're both up. The short story is that I didn't exercise today; the longer story is that maybe I should plan on never exercising on Wednesdays.

Being the ESL coordinator is more work than I anticipated. The teachers have running requests and the students want to switch classes. It took me an hour tonight just to rearrange the class rosters and give teachers the updated lists. It's nice to feel useful, but I may have bitten off more than I can chew. I love being there and coordinating everything on Wednesday evenings, but I'm stressed all day in anticipation. And it's not unnecessary stress. I was barely organized enough tonight to make it through-- and I spent most of the morning preparing! But a bunch of our Burmese refugees from last year showed up tonight, so I had to fit them all into the classes. It's a good problem to have, but it still requires time and energy.

Anyway, my back is killing me. I have a Tens Unit, which is a little device I can hook up to my back that sends out electronic shocks. I've used it for about five years now, and it has generally worked wonders. But not this time. Shocking. (haha.) It's not really helping this time. I said to Keith tonight that maybe I just need to spend a whole weekend flat on my back. Or go to a chiropractor. I've never done either. If only I didn't have two adorable girls who wanted to be held all time time :) I suppose there are worse problems to have...

"Exercise"

2009-09-22T15:42:00.002-04:00

In an ideal world, I actually enjoy exercise. In the past I've done such things as run, dance, lift weights, karate, yoga, pilates, and swim. But now that I have kids, I don't belong to a gym or play any organized sports. I can jog outside or run on the treadmill that we own. And I can do a little lifting with a few free-weights. Here is my mental list of fun-ness:

1) Taking a class or playing a sport: super fun, not even really "exercise"

2) Jogging + sit-ups: not a great time, but I feel good afterward and can enjoy my own thoughts in peace

3) Trying to stretch and run on a treadmill while managing to keep two little girls from crying or getting into trouble: no fun at all.

If you haven't already guessed, I'm currently stuck in situation #3. And as everyone knows, it's hard to exercise if you know it's not going to be fun! So the bottom line is that I didn't exercise on Monday. I thought about it and even had my sneakers on at one point. But I only lasted a minute and a half before my crying baby made me give up in despair. How's that for determination, huh?

But I tried again today while Beret was taking her morning nap and Lil was watching Sesame Street. I never really got my heart pumping, but my back was stretched and warmed up, so the pain hasn't been as bad so far today...

The Physical

2009-09-21T08:39:00.003-04:00

Leonardo da Vinci

I was awake this morning at 3am with severe back pain. I had a lower back injury when I was 12, and I still have chronic pain from time to time. It's been getting pretty bad these past few weeks, and I think it's because of a combination of carrying my two girls around all day and a lack of any serious exercise or stretching. So this week I'm going to be deliberate about my body, my physical self. I must carve out time to exercise. It wouldn't hurt me to deliberately eat healthier either!

A Day worth Two Years

2009-09-17T22:16:00.004-04:00

My parents used to sing hymns to me and my brothers when we were kids. One of my favorites was Oh, the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus. I asked for a Trinity Hymnal when I knew I was pregnant with Lily; I knew I wanted to sing hymns to her. Her song is the Deep Deep Love. I sing it to her every night I put her to bed. I didn't originally intend to do this, but I love the song, and after two years, it seems to be Lily's song.

This morning as she was playing in the kitchen while I cleaned up her breakfast, I realized she was singing the hymn. I've never "taught" her the words; I've never prompted her to repeat after me. For two years I've wondered if she knew that I always sang her the same song. That it was her song. And today I heard her sing the whole first verse verbatim. I never deliberately sang her this song, but once I realized how often I sang it, I deliberately made it Lily's song. I kept on singing it. It was lovely to hear the words come from her mouth today. I believe God blesses us through our children, whether we intend to be deliberate or not. Thank God for that.

Oh the deep, deep love of Jesus,
Vast, unmeasured, boundless, free!
Rolling as a mighty ocean,
In it's fullness over me!
Underneath me, all around me,
Is the current of thy love.
Leading onward, leading homeward,
to my glorious rest above!

O the deep, deep love of Jesus.
Spread His praise from shore to shore!
How He loveth, ever loveth, changeth never, nevermore!
How He watches o'er His loved ones,
died to call them all His own.
How for them He intercedeth,
watcheth o'er them from the throne!

O the deep, deep love of Jesus,
love of ev'ry love the best!
'Tis an ocean vast of blessing,
'tis a haven sweet of rest!
O the deep, deep love of Jesus,
'tis a heav'n of heav'ns to me.
And it lifts me up to glory,
for it lifts me up to Thee!

Relief

2009-09-16T21:47:00.004-04:00

Without bad days, you can't really appreciate the good days, right? Well, that's how I feel today. After two rough days, today went really well. I managed to take the girls on a walk, let Lily "feed" rocks to the ducks at Bullfrog Valley Pond, made lunch with friends at my house, got Beret, Lily, and Lily's friend Rhys (he was with us for the day while his mommy was at law school!) to nap in close enough proximity that I got a 45 minute nap myself, made chicken pot pie for dinner, and spent three hours tonight at church organizing more ESL students and classes. Wow!

And it's now 10pm. Both girls and Keith are already in bed. (I apologized to K, by the way. I think he still wants me committed to an insane asylum, though.) I'm drinking a glass of wine and contemplating grading another six tests before I go to bed. I'm in that good place where I have lots of thoughts, but no crazy need to type them all down right now. I believe this is what grace feels like.

Here's my thought for today:

What if my prayers really made a difference?

What if I sincerely pray for, say, an acquaintance who's been diagnosed with terminal stage-4 cancer? What if my prayers determine whether she lives one year or ten? I think I've spent the last 29 years thinking that my prayers don't really make a difference. But my mind is changing. One thing I know for sure: if I really did believe that my prayers affect people's lives, I'd spend a lot more time in prayer. And there's nothing wrong with that. More thoughts to follow soon...

Rough days

2009-09-15T22:37:00.003-04:00

Monday was Rough. With a capital R. It started out fine: a bunch of moms and kids came over for a play date. Good times. But things headed south after lunch. I put Lily down for a nap at 12:45, and then Beret proceeded to scream from that moment until nearly 3:00. Not fussing, not crying, screaming. You can guess how the rest of the day went: no nap for me or B, Keith had to work late, the grass needed to be cut, frozen pizza for dinner, etc. Beret was so worked up that I didn't get her to sleep until after midnight.

Today was better, but I'm still feeling the residual effects of yesterday. I just need space from both girls sometimes, and I have to figure out a way to get that before I hit my boiling point. I did NOT make that happen today, so Keith came home to an angry and hysterical wife. It's interesting that yesterday was worse on paper, but today my emotions were worse.

All I really want is 8-10 solid hours of sleep. I truly believe I'd be a better person if I could just get that for one night. But I digress... And it doesn't excuse my behavior...

Not every day can be a success, right? I mean, I got things done, but I didn't have a good attitude and I often wasn't kind. There's nothing deliberate about that. That's letting life take control of me, instead of the other way around.

Sunday

2009-09-13T22:49:00.002-04:00

Wisdom: It is the ability to conduct one's life "in the best possible way and to the best possible effect." -Roger Whybray

Well, I wasn't deliberate about getting up in time for church this morning. Don't get me wrong. We went. But it was 9:20 by the time we got there- that's criminally late for my MK husband! But we were actually both in good moods, so there's a miracle for you :) I went to the main service and then helped with the 2 year old class during second service. Ten toddlers is enough to drive anyone insane in an hour. Guaranteed.

But the afternoon was great: I had lunch with my folks (read: I didn't have to cook!) and then got a 2+ hour nap, thanks to the hubs. I LIVE for weekend naps. When I woke up, I felt inspired to clean! I know, it's Sunday, the Sabbath. Well, I wanted to do it, so I did. Nearly all of my house is now dog-hair free (Ginny went home yesterday). I also did 5 loads of laundry, but none of them are folded yet. I'll save that for tomorrow I guess.

K went for a motorcycle ride tonight, and then after he got home he took Beret while I ran out to Fire Alley to get us some wings. We watched the Bears game.

I like that quote at the top because wisdom and living deliberately seem to go hand in hand. Well, time to start another week...

ahh...

2009-09-12T21:30:00.003-04:00

The great thing about being deliberate is that I can deliberately do nothing and not feel guilty! Today I slept in (till 8am) and also took a 3 hour nap. ahhh... Went to my parents' for dinner. My dirty house is driving me crazy, but I'm leaving that for Monday...

What deliberate ISN'T, part 1

2009-09-11T20:53:00.003-04:00

Today I've been thinking that Deliberate does not necessarily equal Structured.

I've been confusing these two things for years, possibly my whole life. I like structure. I can "do" structure. I'm good with schedules, plans, goals, and lists. In fact, I've occasionally been known to make a to-do list and include things I've already done just so I have the satisfaction of crossing them off!

But over the last several years I've acquired some pretty significant variables: a husband, a house, and two kids, to name a few. Making a list or a schedule now no longer guarantees that I'll accomplish my goals. And this has been frustrating the hell out of me on a regular basis! In fact, I'd say I've been in a funk since Lily was born. And it's all because I thought deliberate meant structured. It doesn't.

Earlier this week I scheduled to hang out with my friend on Friday afternoon. I even lined up a babysitter for Beret so that I could actually hang out and enjoy the fellowship. I did this deliberately (can you see why I could confuse scheduling with being deliberate?) and was looking forward to it. But I woke up Friday to two cranky girls and pouring rain. My first thought was to cancel my plans and hide under my sheets all day. My second thought was that I must keep my plans, because that's what I do, even if I don't want to and it won't be helpful to me anymore. My third thought- my "aha moment"- came from attempting to live my day deliberately: why not call up my friend and see if she could make time for me and the girls in the morning instead?

Duh! So I did. And she could. And our five girls played wonderfully together while we hung out and got caught up with each other. So, being deliberate is not the same as making plans or writing lists. Being deliberate is more vague, more intangible... and also more satisfying.

Good bookends on a bad day

2009-09-10T23:42:00.003-04:00

I woke up at 5:30 this morning (if you've ever nursed, you understand why). And it's now 11:45 pm. Neither girls napped today, so neither did I. On the whole, it wasn't a good day- both girls cried a lot, and I was home most of the day but only got one load of laundry folded. But my sweet friend Kristin visited me and the girls this morning, which was lovely. And Keith and the girls and I went to a friend's house for fellowship and a yummy dinner. So my two planned events for the day were accomplished (I almost called off the dinner-- the girls were just that miserable). And my only other goal was to grade the 40ish placements tests that were administered yesterday. I thought I could do this during nap time, but then girls didn't sleep. So I did them all tonight after I got Beret in bed for the second time. Even though I'm tired, it feels good that I got something "done." I feel like a bit of my day was redeemed. Being deliberate enables me to view this day as decent, and not just exhausting. I think.

Deliberate Day 2

2009-09-09T22:36:00.002-04:00

I got a lot done this morning. Grocery store, drug store, Blockbuster, a doctor's appointment (for me), and then I swung by Wendy's for "chicken and french fries" for Lily (and a burger for me!). Having both girls with me through all this was challenging, but not difficult, per se. I deliberately brought them because I want to be able to take my kids places without constantly being afraid that they'll have meltdowns. All kids have bad days, but I don't want to get in the habit of finding a babysitter or waiting until my husband gets home to do everyday things. If I'm going to get out without my kids, I want to be having FUN!

This evening was registration night at my local church for English as a Second Language (ESL) classes. Pure chaos. I'm the coordinator this year, so it was my job to see that 40ish students were registered and tested for their upcoming classes. I can't say I planned the evening perfectly. On the drive home I had thoughts like, "I should have asked the maintenance staff for different rooms. I should have burned a second copy of the Listening CD so that both classrooms could be tested simultaneously. I should have gotten there earlier. I should have made more signs..." My true colors are showing through here: if things don't work out exactly right, then I think I've failed. Which means I'm a failure. And who wants to be a failure?

But this is where it pays to be deliberate! Forty students are coming back next week. Everyone pitched in and had good attitudes. I had a job to do and I got it done. I intentionally volunteered to participate in this community program, and that's what I did tonight. So I'm going to bed now and I don't feel like a failure.

P.S. I'm not going to simply chronicle my activities every day for 365 days. Yawn. But I want to write these first days out so that I can start getting a feel for what living deliberately looks like- what works and what doesn't, etc...

The Deliberate Experiment

2009-09-08T21:06:00.009-04:00

I've been thinking about what it might look like to live deliberately.

Here's what Merriam Webster has to say about the word deliberate:

Main Entry: ²de·lib·er·ate
Pronunciation: \di-ˈli-bə-rət, -ˈlib-rət\
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from Latin deliberatus, past participle of deliberare to consider carefully, perhaps alteration of *delibrare, from de- + libra scale, pound
Date: 15th century

1 : characterized by or resulting from careful and thorough consideration
2 : characterized by awareness of the consequences <deliberate falsehood>
3 : slow, unhurried, and steady as though allowing time for decision on each individual action involved <deliberate pace>

Most mornings I wake up whenever one of my children starts crying. If both are fed and dressed by late morning, I consider it a success. If I am also fed and dressed by then, it's nearly a miracle. I've told myself that this is how life is when you have small children. But I still feel guilty. And more importantly, I feel unhappy. I like accomplishing things, having meaningful conversations, volunteering to help friends and family members. And I can't seem to get these things done when I simply "let life happen" each day. So the result is that I don't do much, and then feel unhappy about not doing much. yuck. So what would happen if I was more careful and aware of my days?

Well, today I tried to live deliberately. It looked like this:

-Got the girls up, dressed, and fed. I also cut 20 fingernails and 20 toenails. Honestly, how do they grow so fast??

-Packed said girls, the double stroller, drinks, blankies, the nuk, goldfish, and Ginny (the dog who occasionally stays with us), drove to the Hershey Medical Center, loaded up the stoller, and spent an hour+ walking the trail that circumvents the hospital.

-Left Ginny in the well-ventilated car while I took the girls into the hospital to weigh Beret and ask a few breastfeeding questions of the lactation nurse.

-Took the girls home (both crying by this point), fed them lunch, put rice in the rice-cooker, and eventually got the girls down for naps... which means I got a nap too!!!

-Made fried rice with chicken and veggies for dinner.

-Did the dishes and cleaned out a desk of stuff while Beret was strapped to my chest (Keith was playing with Lily outside).

-Walked Beret up and down our sidewalk while Keith gave Lily her bath. It was a cool, lovely evening. I spent the time talking out loud to God.

-Came back inside in time to hand Beret to Keith and take Lily upstairs to read books, sing, and pray. Sweet Lily.

-Fed and bounced Beret for nearly an hour while watching mindless tv (I'd love to say I did something more constructive here, but honestly, I can't read and K was busy, so what else could I do? I welcome suggestions.).

Result? I feel good about my day! My girls got fresh air this morning, and I got exercise (you try pushing a double stroller and dragging a lazy dog at the same time!). Lily and I spent time talking while we walked. I made a healthy dinner. I cleaned up a little corner of my life (the desk). I got to enjoy the beautiful evening while holding my baby and praying. I read and sang and prayed with my little girl, which never gets old. In short, I did things that- if I found out I was dying tomorrow- I wouldn't regret. I did things that weren't a waste of time.

So, I'm going to try to do this. Every day. And I'll try to blog about it every day too. For a year. This may be a ridiculously lofty goal. But a girl's got to start somewhere, right?

So here goes...

Child

2009-09-02T22:12:00.006-04:00

by Mary Cassatt

I'm praying for my friend tonight. Just want her to know that.

Brand-new Baby

2009-06-28T21:06:00.003-04:00

Beret Hollander.

This is my newest baby, born on 8 June 2009, 6 pounds, 19 inches.

She's proving to be a much "better" baby than my first... she eats every 3 hours and sleeps most of the rest of the time. No acid reflux, screaming marathons, or massive spit-ups (you know, the kind where you swear they spit back up more than they originally swallowed!). Hopefully she stays this way. Like my daughter Lily, Beret is named after a specific family member- a great aunt. Keith's grandmother's sister was a spunky one-of-a-kind gal; she traveled to West Africa on multiple occasions to see her sister, regularly participated in active sports like skiing (which was pretty uncommon for women 60 years ago), lived out her years in a high-rise loft in downtown Chicago, and never married, though apparently love letters were found from a beau who was in the military. She lived off the paintings she created- mostly oil and watercolor. The ones I've seen are beautiful.

I'm so happy to introduce Beret (pronounced "bear-it") to everyone. I'm also hoping to start posting again sometime later this summer-- when my life will hopefully be a little less hectic!

My final thought as the mother of only Lily

2009-06-07T23:52:00.000-04:00

On the eve of the birth of my second child, I just wanted to record a special moment I had with my first born this week.

This past Wednesday I was on my hands and knees, literally scrubbing my kitchen floor. Yes, I've been frantically cleaning all week. I believe it's called "nesting." Anyway, my 22-month old daughter came over to me, hugged my leg and kissed my knee and said, "I luv loo" (that's Toddler for "I love you"). I couldn't believe it. This was the first time Lily ever said "I love you" completely unsolicited and uncoached. So sweet. That's my girl. It's crazy to think that by this time tomorrow my mother-in-law will have put my Lily to sleep and that I'll be in the hospital with another child. I do love my Lily.

Lasca

2009-05-03T05:42:00.003-04:00

Five more weeks and this second baby will be out. People keep asking if we've picked out names yet, and the honest answer is no, we've kicked around a bunch of ideas, but have come to absolutely no solid conclusions. We like the idea of using family names, like we did with Lily, but we're not committed to it. This weekend Keith came across the name Lasca as he sorted through old family photos- she was a relative on his maternal grandmother's side. (Lasca is pronounced like Alaska, but without the initial "a")

I mentioned the name to my mother at dinner last night, and she tossed me the baby names book she used back when she was having her babies. I looked up Lasca, and the name was defined by just two words: "weary, weariness."

Interestingly enough, I later consulted the six borrowed name books I have floating around my house right now, and not a single one mentioned this name. "Of course," I thought," who would want to give their kid such a dreary, lonely name? She'd be doomed from birth!" But my next thought was that sometimes parents name their kids by the experience they had leading up to their child's birth, not by the future they wish for that child. The Old Testament, for one, is filled with names that begin like: "out of my sorrow..." and "not without pain..." Not very cheerful, huh? But choosing a name doesn't have to be about the child, it can be about the parent(s) who bear(s) that child.

And suddenly, Lasca was back on my short list. "Weary" isn't a vocabulary word I use on a daily basis, but I realized that it rings true for me. I'm weary of hiking my beloved toddler up over my belly 30 times a day. I'm weary from trying to make sure this birth will go well for everyone else involved. I'm weary of counting down the weeks. But on a broader scale, I'm weary for my numerous friends who've lost their babies this year. I'm weary for friends and family who seem to get the short end of the stick. I'm weary for my strained relationship with God and how it affects my closest loved ones. My energy is sapped. My motivation is often nil. My soul feels wrapped up in itself, all alone. (And then there's my faithful friend Guilt, who loves to remind me that this is all my fault, be it true or not :) )

All in all, I'm weary. Not depressed, not desperate, not (just) hormonal, not even just tired. I simply recognize that I've used all my reserves. What you see is what I've got. That's it. I know this feeling won't last forever, that this is just a "season." But pregnancy can be very lonely... after all, in the end it's just you carrying this child, you and your Lasca...

Twilight

2009-03-26T04:20:00.003-04:00

The Twilight book series is all the rage these days. If you haven't heard of it, you're clearly not a teenage girl! It has created Harry Potter-type buzz in more than one quarter. The five-novel series about vampires who live among unsuspecting humans is now complete, and the first book was made into a movie which was just released onto dvd this week. ok, enough background...

I went to a birthday party last night for a couple of my good friends, and since most of these ladies (and I do mean "ladies"- we're mostly in or around the 30 year mark) have read the books, the evening's theme was Twilight. We wore black and drank red, gelatinous fruit punch. After opening gifts, we all sat down to watch the movie.

...Let me take this moment to say that I was one of only two girls in the room who hadn't read the entire series...

I can truly say I was amazed at the effect this movie (story) had on my grown female friends! The two main characters are in high school, and much of the story deals with the awkwardness of those years- like what kind of car you drive and who's taking whom to prom. You wouldn't think wives and mothers would swoon over this type of story, right? Wrong!

I literally spent half the time watching the movie and the other half watching my friends' reactions! Every girl in the room was reduced in age by half. Comments like "I love you, Edward" and "I never want this story to end!" were frequently made. I've never seen anything like it. When the movie ended and everyone rejoined the real world, we joked each other about who was the sappiest, and then began discussing why these books have had such an affect on women, young and old(er) alike.

When you break the story down, it's about a 17 year old girl who moves to a new town and develops a crush on her lab partner, who acts strangely much of the time. She eventually figures out that he's a vampire, and he tells her to stay away from him because he isn't sure he can resist his urge to devour her. But, of course, their mutual attraction gets in the way of common sense, and they end up getting romantically involved. Complications ensue, but love conquers all, etc... (at least in the first book, anyway...) So what makes this "love story" so powerful to so many females?

Two things, I think. First, the vampire boy, Edward, has that got-to-have-her feeling towards the heroine. And it's not just lust: she smells good, she's a good girl, and she's not afraid of him. The connection between them is real, in all the right senses. He wants her in an animal-like fashion. Second, he chooses to keep her at a distance despite her persistent attempts to be with him, because he knows that if he becomes weak even one time, he'll drink her blood and destroy her.

In short, girls are in love with this hero because he's manly in every sense. He's strong, fast, and has a lot of wisdom (bc he's lived so long). He knows who he is and what he is, and he has chosen not to drink human blood, even though abstaining takes a tremendous amount of self-control. And, here's the kicker, he unabashedly takes on the responsibility of protecting the one he loves, no matter what she says or does. She says things like, "I'm not afraid of you" and he replies, "You should be." She pleads with him to let her into his life, and he tells her she should move away before she gets hurt. She wants to kiss him, but he won't get that close to her because he's afraid he'll lose control. He's the one in charge; he's the one in control! We girls were saying how unusual it is to see this kind of guy in our current society. Girls today are told that they need to tell guys no, that guys will always try to use them as much as they can, that girls are the ones who have to be responsible. And sadly, this is true most of the time.

But then here's this hero, Edward, who is self-aware and self-controlled. And I think maybe this is what every girl wants. We want to be wanted, but we don't want the responsibility of constantly pushing the guys off of us! We want the privilege of feeling all the emotions, without having to always be the logical, rational, responsible partner. Isn't that interesting?

I wonder how many girls- and wives- could have this kind of relationship with a man if we really wanted it. I mean, it takes two. Guys have to be confident and self-controlled (in short, good leaders), and girls have to be willing to give up the control and trust the men to make the right choices (even if it's not what they want). I'm not saying that the characters in this story have it "right" in a final, moral sense, but I think the author has insightfully pegged what most women truly want... hence the swooning :)

I think I'll go start reading those books now :)

Ash Wednesday

2009-02-26T09:21:00.011-05:00

photo by damien van holten

Like any good protestant, I'm always surprised to see ashes on the foreheads of otherwise normal-looking people on Ash Wednesday. But at the same time I often feel a twinge of jealousy: they're getting to do something that sets this day apart, and they're not worried about other people knowing. I, on the other hand, celebrated Fat Tuesday with at least three faustnachts and then woke up the next day with little-to-no thought of the beginning of the Lenten season. As I said, such is protestant life...

But yesterday I took the opportunity to attend a Lenten service at our local catholic church, St. Joan of Arc. The service itself was non-denominational, so there was no holy water or ashes in sight. But just sitting in the pews was an experience- all the stained-glass windows depicting Bible stories or components of faith, the cross at the front with Christ crucified still on it, the shiny gold tiling, the well-worn kneelers. Just being in that type of building is enough to make one pause and consider.

So why is the first day of Lent called Ash Wednesday? The ashes are traditionally from the palm branches used from the previous Easter season. They are saved, burned, and then mixed with oil or holy water. They're placed on the forehead because of the many recorded instances of ashes and sackcloth being used by the Jewish people to indicate mourning. The church attributes this outward act as having dual meanings: first, the ashes remind us of our mortality and humanity; second, we are to approach this season in sorrow and humility. I think the visual of the charred remains of last year's celebration is a vivid reminder of our continual need for salvation, don't you?

The following is a Catholic Ash Wednesday prayer I found online...

O Jesus, you place on my forehead the sign of my sister Death:

"Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

How not hear her wise advice?

One day my life on earth will end; the limits on my years are set, though I know not the day or hour Shall I be ready to go to meet you?

Let this holy season be a time of grace for me and all this world.

"Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain wisdom of heart."

O Jesus, you place on my forehead the sign of your saving Cross:

"Turn from sin and be faithful to the gospel."

How can I turn from sin unless I turn to you?

You speak, you raise your hand, you touch my mind and call my name, "Turn to the Lord your God again."

These days of your favor leave a blessing as you pass on me and all your people.

Turn to us, Lord God, and we shall turn to you.

Naming

2009-01-08T20:39:00.004-05:00

A ball is a ball.
photo by rayudu.

Lily turned a year and a half last week. She's at such a fun stage: everything in her world is an adventure. She's chattering like crazy and repeats a lot of the words we say. Some of her words are conceptual in nature: "more," "oh no!" and "stuck" are probably her favorites. But most of her words are nouns. She wants to name everything: cracker, ball, cow.

It's been interesting to watch her start organizing her world. That's a kitty; it says meow. That's a train; it says choo. And she tells me these things over and over each day. She knows it, she believes it, and yet she still feels the need to affirm it... to herself? ... to me? I don't know.

I've been wondering what things I subconsciously name in my life, and whether that naming is accurate. Because if I say it enough, I'll end up believing it's true (even if it isn't). So I guess my question is: what things am I naming right now? And are those names correct- and helpful, or are they incorrect- and harmful?

Incoherent thoughts at 2 a.m.

2008-12-17T02:24:00.004-05:00

There are two things I've recently re-realized about my pregnant self:

1- I have incredible feelings of guilt,

2- I have nearly zero patience (not that I had much more to start...)

When combined, these two issues can have deadly consequences. I hate living with myself when I'm like this, so I can only imagine how much those around me suffer! (sorry Keith!) Now, in general, I'm one of those people who walks around each day feeling guilty that I don't "do more"- more ministry, more Bible reading, more cleaning. But when I'm pregnant and feeling tired and miserable, I do even less, so I end up feeling even worse. The highlights of my days right now include getting to sleep in as late as Lily will let me and getting to nap as long as Lily naps. Even though I know I'm making another human being while keeping a toddler alive and fed each day, I still expect myself to be saving the world in some demonstrable way. My logical self tells me this is ridiculous, but my emotional self tells me to go ahead and feel bad about it anyway!

And the problem with having no patience is that when I feel inadequate and then I read/hear things that say most Christians are inadequate, I freak out. I get so angry so fast. And really, I'm mostly angry at myself. Because I don't do well at meshing what I know and what I believe. I know that God is the only true judge and that he sees so much of my "ministry" that no one else may see. But I believe that if I don't get regular pats on the back or atta-girl's, then I'm clearly a failure. And this incongruity makes me CRAZY.

And this is when I really wish I could exercise. Wish I could take out my aggression on the punching bag my dad so graciously put up for me. Wish I could go for a run. Wish I could do anything. But just the motion of rocking Lily makes me hurl, so it's not an option. So instead I stew (like right now, at 2 in the morning) and then occasionally boil over and hurt unsuspecting friends and family members.

But here's what I'm trying to make myself believe (because I already know it):

The right thing, at the wrong time, is the wrong thing.

For example: taking meals to new moms or single pregnant teenagers is something I can and have done. And it's a good thing to do. And I love doing it. And it's been the right thing to do over this past year. But right now, considering the fact that I can't even eat the meals I prepare for my own husband, maybe making more meals for other people is not only not good for me, it's not even right. Making a meal (a good thing) when my child is feeling neglected because I've spent the day on the couch (a wrong time), makes it a wrong thing. It's not wrong for me to make a meal and it's not wrong for me to spend a day on the couch; but it may be wrong for me to spend the little energy I have on taking care of someone else's family instead of my own.

But instead of believing this, I choose to listen to today's hype- both Christian and non-Christian- that says if I really believe something, then I'll be doing something about it. I have got to stop believing this! I have to start recognizing the seasons of my life. I have to start recognizing that perhaps our greatest ministries are those that will never be recognized (not even by our fellow church-goers). I have to start recognizing that I am judging myself not through God's eyes or even other people's eyes, but through my own guilt-ridden eyes.

The Miracle Drug

2008-11-21T06:37:00.002-05:00

by montgomery girl, courtesy of Wordle

hey folks,

I know it's been a while since I posted anything, so I just wanted to let you know that I'm still alive. Most of you know I'm pregnant again, and the nausea is almost as bad this time as it was the last time. So I haven't been spending much superfluous time in front of the computer (or on cleaning, cooking, or laundry!). But I'm happy to report that I've just completed my first full day on Zofran, the Miracle Drug. Thank God for modern science. I think I'm on the mend, and will hopefully be able to post something of substance soon!

Turning a corner? (or at least turning the pages!)

2008-10-30T22:21:00.005-04:00

I've spent the last few weeks writing dreary posts about pain and suffering. I recognize that some may think I've been overly negative and perhaps even whiny. I can assure you that was not my intent. It's just that I've been forced to do a lot of thinking/feeling about my current situations in life... I'm rounding off my third decade on this earth; I'm raising a toddler while "cooking up" another baby at the same time; I'm educated but jobless, and I'm a home-maker who never spends a full day in her home. Great.

So who (the hell) am I right now? And if I'm not okay with that, why not? And how should I feel about that? And how do I actually feel about that?

These are the questions I've been asking myself. Not because I want to. No. But because I'm being forced to. I don't know what that means, exactly, but I think God is allowing me to get so fed up with myself that I have no option but to turn to him. And trust me, I've tried a lot of my other "options." (Hence my previous posts on suffering and coping, etc.)

But I'm happy to report that while I still cope very often, I'm also stepping outside into the light. The coping isn't enough anymore, and I've got to do something about it. And being my father's daughter, I've started reading a book.

I can't exactly recommend this book yet, since I've only read the introduction and first chaper. But I'm still reading it, so that's a good sign right there. This book is about the spiritual disciplines of silence and solitude. The author proposes that spending time, quality time, with the Lord, will help bring about a quietness that comes from a closer relationship with him. No, it will not fix or prevent any pain or turmoil, but it will help cut out some of the chaos and craziness of this world.

And the thing that's drawing me to this book is that Barton seems to get it. Or at least she seems to get me. In the intro she writes that she's been practicing the discipline of solitude for ten years (at the time of publication), and it's been one of the most worthwhile endeavors in her lifelong relationship with God. But she didn't choose to begin that process because she thought it would be a "good idea" or "fun." She was forced into it because she found herself in her thirties juggling marriage, kids, and ministry. And she found she just couldn't do it all. I get that.

The funny thing is that I've always wanted to know how to spend time in silence and how to meditate. I read Richard Foster's The Celebration of Discipline when I was a freshman in highschool! And I wanted what he wrote about. But I could never do it. Well, at least not for more than a couple of days. (My dear mother tells me I'm not particularly strong in the area of patience! Unfortunately, she's right.) So, for the last 15 years, I've tried on and off to spend time being quiet. And I've read other books on the subject. I can even remember a time during my college years when I stood up in the middle of my home church's evening service and asked the pastor how to hear God.

But maybe I never really did it because I hadn't reached a point where I thought I needed it. Well, I might be finally reaching that point. The point where desperation wins out over impatience. So thanks to my friend who recommended this book to me (you can read her latest blog on books here).

I'm sure I'll revisit this book in future blogs. I'll be sure to let ya'll know how it's going. And hey, maybe those posts will be a bit less gloomy!

Quote

2008-10-29T08:53:00.004-04:00

by Keith

"At times the strength of spiritual community lies in the love of people who refrain from getting caught in the trap of trying to fix everything for us, who pray for us and allow us the pain of our wilderness, our wants, so that we may be more deeply grounded in God."

-Rosemary Dougherty

...and finally, Numbing

2008-10-22T21:52:00.004-04:00

by montgomery girl
"So many grays"

Just a quick note about numbing.
I think maybe numbing is the extreme of coping. Well, at least it is by my definitions of the words. Coping is getting by, but still being aware of the issue / problem / pain that must be dealt with. Numbing is avoiding it entirely. Taking Tylenol with codeine is coping: I still feel the pain, just less of it, until I start to feel stronger again. Numbing, according to my definition, would be walking into the ER and asking to be put into a medically-induced coma until my body heals!

Numbing is checking out. Numbing is, essentially, refusing to learn, refusing to glean anything from the pain. Numbing is refusing to let God teach us; and doesn't C.S. Lewis write that pain is God's megaphone? I guess I'm saying that coping is better than numbing, most times (Although numbing has its place- an epidural is essential when having a C-section, for example!).

Maybe, as a reader of this blog, you're thinking, "Yeah, duh. This is an obvious observation." Well, it's not for me. I've been using the words interchangeably. And not differentiating between Coping and Numbing has caused me to heap added guilt on myself. I'm bad for numbing. I'm bad for coping. I'm just plain bad. Simply because I don't do everything right all the time. This is my characteristic black-and-white thinking. And I'm trying to embrace the gray. And I'm wondering how much grace there is in the gray.

So... the gray...

... is maybe coping,
with the willingness to be taught,
the knowledge that more pain will be ahead,
and the belief that God will extend his grace throughout the process.

This song has been in my head for days.

I'm coming round to open up the blinds
you can't hide here any longer
my god you need to rinse those puffy eyes
you can't lie still any longer
and yes they'll ask you where you've been
and you'll have to tell them, again and again

and you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day
but I promise you you'll see the sun again
and you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness
and I promise you you'll see the sun again

come on take my hand
we're going for a walk, I know you can
you can wear anything, as long as it's not black
please don't mourn forever, she's not coming back
and yes they'll ask you where you've been
and you'll have to tell them, again and again

and you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day
but I promise you you'll see the sun again
and you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness
and I promise you you'll see the sun again
and I promise you you'll see the sun again

do you remember telling me you'd found the sweetest thing of all
you said one day of this was worth dying for
so be thankful you knew her at all
but it's no more

and you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day
but I promise you you'll see the sun again
and you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness
and I promise you you'll see the sun again
and I promise you you'll see the sun again

"see the sun"
by Dido

Coping, pt 2

2008-10-19T05:00:00.004-04:00

by montgomery girl

"Lily, who copes with a pale purple blankie..."

My neck still hurts. And I'm awake in the night again.

I've been thinking about ways that I cope:

I sleep.
I read fiction (esp mystery novels, right now).
I watch mindless tv.
I get online.
I raid the fridge.

None of these things are bad. But I do most of them most days. So I know that I'm coping. I'm just not exactly sure why.

I was talking with a good friend on the phone recently. I said I didn't really feel "up" for doing much, that I didn't feel I was doing very well. We talked about it for a minute. Then she asked, "Do you think you're thinking about yourself too much?" Fair question. So I took a moment to mentally review my actions of the previous day. Turns out, I'd spent 2-3 hours in front of the tv (much to my husband's chagrin). If I could frivolously waste multiple hours and not even think about it, then no, I wasn't spending too much time on myself.

In fact, I think the opposite is true. I'm spending a lot of time coping so that I don't have to think about myself.

Coping

2008-10-17T04:14:00.004-04:00

by montgomery girl

"Trying to see the Sky for the Trees..."

In our own small ways, Lily and I are both suffering right now. For starters, we are both up at 4am this morning in pain- me with neck pain and her with a fever. And now that I'm awake (and waiting for the Tylenol to kick in), I'm thinking about what it means to cope with pain.

Here's my train of thought: We all experience pain. None of us wants to feel that pain. So, in the midst of pain, how do we deal with it? How do we cope? Let's start with Lily. She came down with her first real stomach bug yesterday, complete with barfing all over herself, me, and my living room carpet (a big thanks to my mother belongs here- I might still be discovering more barf if she hadn't come over to run damage control!). She doesn't want to eat or drink, she has a fever, and she's listless. In short, she's miserable. So how am I helping her? Well, in reality, I'm giving her ways to cope. First, there's baby Motrin. Keith gave her some at 8pm with her evening bottle, and she was able to fall asleep. But at 4am, exactly eight hours later, I found her sitting in her crib, crying and hot. So I spiked another bottle with Motrin, and 20 minutes later, she's quietly back in her crib. That's a form of coping right? The Motrin isn't actually making her better, but it's helping her to feel better (by lowering her temp) until her body can heal itself.

And I'm helping her cope in other ways as well: I held Lily a lot yesterday (hence the barf all over me!). And I let her watch several Baby Einstein dvds throughout the day. And she ate nothing but french fries for dinner. Now, in general, I wouldn't recommend parenting practices that include coddling your child, letting her watch hours of tv, and feeding her only fried foods! But since she's in pain, I think most of us would agree that those things are ok during her present time of suffering.

So my current definition of coping is: Doing the things, however un-ideal, that get you through the pain until you can stand on your own two feet again.

Now, please don't take this definition to the extreme. I'm not saying it's ok to SIN. But it might be ok to "sin." The evangelical church today seems to have two categories of sin. There are the Ten Commandment-type sins: no coveting, no adultery. And then there are the To Be A Good Person-type sins: no smoking, no bikinis.

And I'm bauking at the To Be A Good Person "sins." I'm currently taking Tylenol with codeine for my neck pain. Some would say using a narcotic is inadvisable and even weak... It would be better for me to suffer through the pain than take the risk of becoming addicted to pain killers. And that's a valid point. But taking the edge off the pain may keep me from doing something drastic (around 9pm last night I suggested to my husband that he just cut my shoulder off. Surely that would make things better!). I'm not saying that we should "sin" in order to keep from SINning, but I'm definitely saying that there's a large gray area.

And it would be nice if more Christians acknowledged this gray area. And judged other believers less.

So my question is, in what ways do you cope? And are those ways ok? And if not, are they SIN or are they "sin?" In other words, do you cope by doing harmful things or by doing things that others say are bad? (For example, I have a friend who coped with her new marriage by turning to chick flicks whenever things got rough. Her solution wasn't ideal, but it got her through some trying times, and she has a wonderful marriage today... and only watches the occasional movie!)

I'd welcome anyone's thoughts on this. Also, I think there's a difference between coping and numbing. More on that soon.

oh, and it's 5:30 now. And Lily is back up. I'm thinking we'll start this day off with Baby Mozart...

Beauty

2008-10-12T02:18:00.003-04:00

by keith

My sweet sweet child.
Who knows when I should keep my mouth shut.
And shows me in such a convincing way.
I love her.

Suffering

2008-10-09T01:23:00.001-04:00

by keith
Mum petals on my jeans

I've been thinking about how I expect my life to be put together and to make sense. Occasionally it's ok for me or other people to have a crisis and fall apart, like this picture of distraught, misplaced petals. But usually, most days at most times, my life should resemble a decent-looking flower with the petals all bursting forth from one perfectly green stem.

But I'm changing my mind.

Suffering is part of life. For some people, it might be a large part of their lives. And you know what? It might not be their fault. That's what I'm learning. Right now I can divide suffering into three categories:

Suffering that is the result of a choice: If I choose to cheat on my taxes, and I get caught, and I have to pay a fine or go to jail... that causes suffering to myself and my innocent family members. But it still came down to a wrong choice, however just or unjust the consequences might be.

Suffering from a natural, unavoidable cause: If I had a disease, either from birth or one that developed later, that would cause me to suffer. Cancer, for example. Or Cystic Fibrosis (an amazing site on that: Confessions of a CF Husband, thanks Lindsay).

Suffering that is unexplainable; suffering that is the will of God: If I'm hurting, either physically or emotionally or spiritually. If I know what the pain is, or if it's simply a haze. This is all other forms of pain... not from sin or from nature. Just pain.

I think this third kind might be the worst. Not because the original pain is worse, but because there is the added pain of others not understanding your pain. Does that make sense?

And if I say I'm not ok, and if I say I don't know why, then I find that most people want my suffering to fall into one of the first two categories... either I'm doing something wrong, or something wrong has been done to me. And for the most part, I believe these people are trying to help. They really are. But in reality, they ask questions that encourage me to blame myself or my surroundings. This adds shame to the mix. And makes me feel that much worse.

I'm only just beginning to process this.

The picture above shows a mum that my daughter Lily destroyed. It only took her a second. And as I looked at the petals on my jeans, I thought, "Well, there goes that photo op!" But no. Maybe too many of us, myself included, expect life to look like a perfectly formed flower. When, in reality, we're blessed if God just gives us the petals.

coming up.

2008-10-06T10:02:00.008-04:00

by keith

My house has been looking like this a lot lately. oof.

I've been thinking about numbing, coping, and suffering.

More to come soon.

EASIER TO RUN 03:24

2008-09-28T21:46:00.006-04:00

Something has been taken
from deep inside of me
A secret I've kept locked away
no one can ever see.
Wounds so deep they never show
they never go away
Like moving pictures in my head
for years and years they've played...

If I could change I would,
Take back the pain I would,
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would,
If I could
stand up and take the blame I would
If I could take all the shame to the grave
I would

Sometimes I remember
the darkness of my past
Bringing back these memories
I wish I didn't have
Sometimes I think of letting go
and never looking back
And never moving forward so
there would never be a past...

Just washing it aside
All of the helplessness inside
Pretending I don't feel misplaced
is so much simpler than change

It's easier to run
replacing this pain with something numb
it's so much easier to go
than face all this pain here all alone.

-Meteora, Linkin Park

"Stinky Feet Lily"

2008-09-20T08:31:00.003-04:00

Lily's newborn toes

Lily has stinky feet. She just does. We bathe her every night before we give her her evening bottle, and ever since she was first born, I've always smelled her feet while she's eating. You'd think that they'd smell good since she was just soaped up. Not usually. This trait is completely from me. Her father has impeccable feet. Not me though. Mine always end up stinky too. I love that we share this unfortunate flaw.

Sometimes at night I call out "stinky feet Lily," and Lil will look at me and smile. She doesn't know that it's kind of an insult, only that I've said her name. If stinky feet could possibly be the worst thing I've passed down to her, I'll be eternally grateful!

realization... pt. 2

2008-09-18T04:04:00.005-04:00

ok, so first an explanation as to why I'm up at 4 in the morning... Several nights this past week, Lily has woken up every hour, crying. Not fussing, really crying. And as soon as I pick her up, she snuggles in and goes right back to sleep. Last weekend I thought she was just getting another tooth, but I now think she's having nightmares. My parents called them "night terrors"- she gets hysterical but can't fully wake herself up and realize she's ok. So on nights like tonight, I'm getting a lot of quality snuggle time with my babe... but not a lot of quality sleep time for me! It's a good thing she's so darn cute...

So I've been thinking more about my realization in my last post. And I want to clarify my predicament. It's not that I feel bad when I have family members who are not well, it's that I am bad. Feeling sad when loved ones are sad, that's normal and usually good. But that's not what I'm talking about here. I'm saying that my self-worth, the value I see in me, is low when people I love are not well.

Let me back up... I've known for years that I'm very concerned with making sure other people are "ok". On the afternoon of my wedding, half an hour before I was supposed to walk down the aisle, I was lying on the church floor, trying to take deep breaths and not throw up (again). And I didn't know what was wrong. My mother brought Keith in to see me, and I knew right away that my stress wasn't about him- I was ready to marry him. So we chatted for a few minutes and he left to go line up with his guys, and my friend Becky came in. She got down on the floor with me and said, "Lauren, are you worrying about everyone else right now?" Yes. That was it. I wasn't micromanaging the details of my wedding, but I was stressing about my loved ones. Looking back, I've never had so many people I care about in one place. It was too much. I wanted to make sure everyone was good, and of course I couldn't do that, and my body was literally freaking out.

But it wasn't until last week that I saw the deeper implications of this character trait in myself. I not only care, but I believe it's my fault if someone is hurting. Can't find a good wife? I'm terrible for not helping you meet new girls. Going in for a cancer screening? I should have told you to do that last year. Got yourself in a pickle? I'm awful for not calling sooner, offering better advice, and helping you make better choices. oh, and if it's raining outside, that's probably my fault too!

So: My self-esteem is completely wrapped up in other people.

Therefore: I'm a terrible person when loved-ones are in pain.

Conclusion: I'm always a terrible person.

I know the correct "Christian" answer to this problem: I am a child of God, I need to see myself through his eyes, I'm not a terrible person because I've been saved through God's grace, etc. I have a degree in Bible, after all. And I've even had people specifically give me books on understanding my self-worth in Christ. But until now, I've never really seen why I needed to meditate on these things. (I'm pretty stubborn! I need a convincing reason to do something, or I'm just not that invested! Shocking, I know!)

So I'm thinking I need to go back to some of the "basics" and really work my faith out. I'll let you know how that goes.

realization...

2008-09-13T11:46:00.002-04:00

A pastor asked me recently about my self-esteem and how I judge how I'm doing. I wasn't immediately sure of the answer. I know that I generally seem confident and sure of myself to other people. But how do I judge myself?

As I was talking with him I remembered a conversation I'd had with a friend earlier that week: she'd asked me how I was, and I immediately started talking about the friends and family members in my life who are struggling. And that's when I realized...

I judge myself based on how well the people I love are doing. If they're good, I'm good. But if even one or two of my loved ones are experiencing hardships, I feel the need to make them feel better. And if I can't do that (which of course I never truly can), then I feel bad about myself.

Just an interesting realization.... I'm sure I'll write more on this once I've done some more processing...

Empathy

2008-09-05T02:46:00.007-04:00

We all have pain. We all have suffering. We often go through "seasons" in life that are tough, the "valley(s) of the shadow of death." This summer, while I was dealing with some of the own stuff, I knew of several other people who were going through the worst kinds of pain... losing a child, losing a spouse, things like that. And I wondered about how to truly empathize. Paul says in Romans 12 that we are to weep with those who weep. So what does that look like?

Well, for starters, I can tell you what it doesn't look like. ...Two of these friends felt compelled to avoid their home churches for a time because of how difficult it was to be around their fellow believers. Why? Because the church-goers offered only superficial sympathy- "I'm so sorry. Can I bring you a meal?" And then, in the next breath, said inane things like "If only we'd prayed harder." In fact, both these friends found their greatest comfort in non-believers: one received countless meaningful and endearing cards from non-Christian family members; another was practically adopted by a Mormon family!

Sidebar: I'm merely noting these experiences to illustrate a point, not to bash the Christian church. Seriously.

So where's the disconnect? How do some believers, who feel genuine sorrow for those they love, end up doing more harm than good? Well, I think it's because we think we have the answers. We say how sad we are, and then in the next breath, try to box God into the equation- we find a sin, a bad theology, or even a mistake on which to blame the tragic outcome. It's like we're not ok with the idea that God would allow us to suffer. There must be a reason! And we must be able to know the answer!

One of my brothers went to a secular college for a while, and he repeatedly noted that the most understanding kids he met were those who were the most lost and screwed-up. I've found this to be true at times as well. Why is that? Well, I think it might be because people who do not have a firm belief in Jesus do not have adequate answers for the suffering in their own lives. They recognize that bad stuff happens, that it sucks, and that they can't change it. And they still have to wake up each morning and move on with their lives. They have to be ok with not having the answers.

I know that I, as a Christian, always want to have an answer. My experiences need to fit into my theology. And never am I more desperate for answers than when I see someone I love hurting. I always want to fix it. (Read: I always want to help God still look good, like he's got everything under control.)

But lately I've been trying to change my thinking. First: Life includes suffering, sometimes a lot of suffering. God says this all throughout scripture, but I tend to gloss over that stuff. I assume that I might "suffer" if I share the gospel with someone who is unreceptive. That's suffering for Christ, right? Yes, but I have a much harder time accepting the suffering of a child who has just lost a parent. That's not fair. God wouldn't let that happen. But the thing is, God promises suffering. He does let that stuff happen.

And second: We may never be able to explain why God has allowed us to suffer. I have heard people use the illustration of a tapestry: how on the back side there are strings of every color, all matted together, in an incoherent jumble. But when you turn the tapestry over, you see a beautiful picture. I believe that this is a good example of God's work in our lives. (Think of Joseph: he had these crazy dreams, got punished because of them, but eventually his life made sense as things came to pass.) BUT- God might choose to never turn that tapestry over. He might never reveal all the "whys" of our sufferings. (Think of Job: Does God ever give a satisfactory answer for his suffering and loss? It doesn't seem like it.) He works all things for good and for his glory, but he doesn't promise that we'll always know how it all works out....

So, with those two things in mind, I'm trying to re-evaluate my ideas of suffering and weeping. I'm trying to be sad with those who are sad, without explaining it, understanding it, drawing a parallel to my own life so that I think I've walked in their shoes, or even condoning it. I guess I'm trying to be less judgmental... of God. If I truly believe that he is omniscient and omnipotent, then I don't need to run around trying to "fix" everything. If someone has lost a loved one, I should let them see my tears. That may be enough. And, if someone is suffering because they made a bad choice, I should still let them see my tears (not say, "I told you so! If only you'd followed God you'd never have to suffer!").

And honestly, I think it might be a relief to be ok with sadness, with suffering. It's still hard, but maybe it's not quite as exhausting. I need to let God be God. He can handle it. And he knows our sufferings; he is the ultimate empathizer.

Satisfaction

2008-08-25T23:46:00.000-04:00

What are you hungry for? It's a pretty common question. And I've been asking myself that question a lot lately. I used to think this was easy to answer, but now I'm not so sure. For starters, that one question has two elements- it includes a need and a want. I need to eat each day; I must eat something in order to sustain my life. But I may want to eat one thing more than another. That's the beauty, or curse, of living in a place like America. I don't just have to eat beans or potatoes each day. I can eat out, order in, or make any number of dishes at home by buying the right ingredients and searching for recipes online. The possibilities are endless.

So how do I choose what to eat? Do I pick something "good"- like fruits, veggies, and whole grains? Do I pick something yummy- like pizza or wings or a well-prepared steak? Do I ever have to eat shrimp? I hate shrimp! The simple answer is that I can eat any and all of these things: they'll all keep me alive and they all have their own health benefits.

But the simple answer isn't good enough for me anymore. What if I want to eat pizza, but feel sick afterwards? What if I choose to eat salad, but wish the whole time it was a pizza?! Here's the follow-up question I've begun to ask myself lately (the first question being: What do I want?): What will truly satisfy me?

Now, this question takes more work to answer. I need a moment and some quiet to think. And my answer may not be "easy." It's easy to bake a frozen pizza; it's easy to whip up a salad. It's not easy for me to make pasta primavera. But will it satisfy me? Will it be worth the effort?

I looked up satisfy in The Chambers Dictionary. Here are my favorite definitions: to make content; to free from doubt; to convince. I love these words. I want to embody these words; I want to be content and free from doubt! So how do I find satisfaction in eating meals? How do I find satisfaction while cleaning my house, weeding my yard, and caring for my baby?

My initial thought to these questions is, "Just stop and look around. Stop, and take it in." Where am I? What am I doing? Who am I doing it with? And then, How do I feel about it? And are those feelings reflective of God's love and graciousness towards me? .... Maybe this doesn't make sense- maybe I've jumped too quickly from the concrete to the philosophical.... I guess what I'm saying is, in order to know what satisfies me, don't I first need to know a bit about myself and my surroundings? Don't I need to know what's really going on around me?

To go back to the concrete: Do I really want a bowl of ice cream in the middle of January, or do I think I want it because it's the first thing I see when I open the freezer. Seriously, who wants to eat cold food on a cold day? Not me. Maybe the rest of my life works like that too- I think I want to sit inside and watch the evening news because, hey, I'm already sitting down! But really, it's a beautiful night outside, and I could spend an hour mowing my lawn and owning my own thoughts. Wouldn't that be more satisfying than simply sitting inside?

Well, I hope no one is waiting for me to draw a super-spiritual analogy here. This is pretty much the extent of my thoughts right now. I'm really just trying to grasp what it means to satisfy my appetite- both physically and spiritually. And consequently, trying to be able to recognize when I am satisfied, and be content in that.

Po-Po

2008-08-16T20:33:00.001-04:00

Lily has learned what it means to kiss. Her uncle Stephen first introduced her to the idea. He's currently living in Seoul, South Korea. In Korean, they say Po-Po for Kisses. He started saying that back in April, and it took Lily until the beginning of August to finally get it. Sometimes I say Po-po, and sometimes I say Kisses. If she's feeling agreeable, Lily will make a little "aw" sound and lean her lips into mine. It's so endearing. And she knows it's a sign of affection, which makes it even more special...

But it's so HARD to get her to kiss me! I'll say "kisses" like, 20 times, and she still might not choose to kiss me even once. She leaves me hanging. And all I want is a kiss. She doesn't have to suddenly cry out, "I love you! You're the best mother in the world!" I just want a quick kiss once in a while. I'd settle for three kisses per day. I'm lucky if I get one. There's always something to distract Lily... a toy, a noise, a piece of hair.

Of course, you know the obvious metaphor I'm thinking of here. It's cliche. But "cliche" is that way for a reason... it holds some truth, however overused.

I always think that if I'm following the Lord, it has to be 110% all the time. Otherwise, I'm a failure. But God is our Father, right? Well, as a parent, I'd be content to just get some kisses each day. Maybe that's a more accurate expectation of our God. One who asks for kisses. Yes, sometimes he asks for more, even much more. But he'll start with kisses.

And I think I can give kisses.

Not being okay

2008-08-13T05:13:00.000-04:00

Last week I found myself standing in a crowded bar with my husband, attending a concert. I have seen this band perform many times now, and I'm always fascinated by the experience. The band itself has been together since the 80's and has produced something like 15 albums. It's made up of three older men (40 going on 60, if you know what I mean). They are excellent musicians and clearly share a very close friendship with one another.

Now, I'm not a big music person- I tend to notice the words of a song more than the notes. This band has songs with titles like "Faith, Hope, Love" and "Out of the Silent Planet." That would lead you to believe that this band is Christian, right? Well no. Maybe twenty years ago the members of this band would have claimed some connections with the Church. But one guy got divorced, another guy came out of the closet, and I'm sure they've all been busted for doing drugs. You get the picture.

Here's their story in a nutshell: they grew up with Christians and explored that theology in their early years. They wrote songs with "Christian" messages and the Christian community claimed them as a "Christian band" (even though they never claimed any religious affiliation). But these guys chose to live a "rock star" lifestyle, and the Christian community eventually disowned them. (It must stink to be rejected by people you didn't want to be with in the first place!)

Here's what I find fascinating- these guys, who have been rejected by the Christian community, still write songs about prayer, love and faith. And not just flower-child gibberish either- real, soul searching, questioning lyrics. Sometimes their words are insightful, and sometimes their words are blasphemous. But they're still singing.

So last week, standing in the crowd, looking up (let's face it: at 5'2 there's no other direction to look!), I was again impressed by their passion. And their anguish. Now, don't get me wrong- I'm not idolizing these guys or condoning their lifestyles. And I don't believe that they are truly seeking for truth. And that is sad. But they're okay with not being okay. This seems to often be a characteristic of all artists- the willingness to dig around in the muck and then produce something beautiful, not caring who sees them dirty.

I'm envious of that. I'm far too concerned that I pick a box, pick a side, make a list and check it twice. On the outside, this makes me a "good girl." On the inside, it makes me a fraud. Or at least someone who is more concerned with what other people think of her than what she thinks of herself. And that's exhausting. And I'm exhausted. And that's maybe the purpose for starting this blog: I want to spend less energy having it all together, and more energy digging for who God truly wants me to be. And I want to be okay with not being okay... at least some of the time!

"The music that really turns me on is either running toward God or away from God. Both recognize the pivot, that God is at the center of the jaunt.”
~ Bono