For most of my life, I let two things dictate every decision, every action:
1. Rules.
2. The offspring of Rules: Fear.
I wanted to keep the rules, I liked the rules. Rules were safe - not to be questioned, not to be discussed, definitely not to be broken. Why? Well, that was scary (see above-mentioned offspring) - people might not like me if I didn't keep the rules. I might have to endure conflict and that would break my biggest self-imposed rule: Don't create conflict. Don't have an opinion, don't speak in class or any group (someone might disagree), in fact, just try not to speak much at all. That's pretty safe. I liked safe.
Any guesses on how this was working out for me?
I may have done a super job avoiding conflict, but I also missed out on a lot of living for fear I would do something wrong. Well, of course I would have done something wrong! I believe that's called being human. But in my mind "wrong" would be disastrous. So I stayed in my safe world, with my safe rules.
Going to church was safe. Worshiping was not.
Reading the Bible was safe. Studying and sharing it was not.
Working to earn God's favor was safe. Believing His unfailing love was not.
Saying the "right" thing was safe. Saying the truth was not.
Security in others' opinions? Safe. Security in Christ alone? Not.
I considered myself a Christian - and I believed as much as I knew how to believe. But I was still in bondage to rules and fear. I was swimming in a very small pond, not aware I was made for the open sea.
Then God called me out.
Seven years ago, with my then 9-month-old in the church nursery, I walked in to a Bible study for mothers thinking it was quite the "godly mommy" thing to do (safe!) not knowing the Lord would use it to springboard me into a faith explosion and spiritual growth off the charts (not safe! not safe! warning! warning!).
One particular morning, the topic touched on grace, salvation and God's great love for us. I forget the exact wording, but the gist was that Jesus died not only to save us from hell at death, but to save us every single day from our own sinfulness. That we did not have to be enslaved to ourselves - our shortcomings, our sin, our habits, our struggles - while we walked this earth. Jesus died to extend us grace every single day, not just as we enter eternity.
WHAT?
How come I never knew about THAT grace?? I'm sure it was told to me, but whether I didn't understand or I still chose my own rules I don't know. What I did know is that this grace was news to me! Grace extended to me every day? Up to that point my belief system went like this: Follow the rules, get baptized so you don't go to hell, keep following the rules so God doesn't get too mad at you, say I'm Sorry to God a lot and try to earn back His favor, then life is over and you get to go to Heaven because you followed the rules. The end.
I know. Delightful.
But this grace? This grace changed my entire way of thinking, of praying, of reading the Word. I felt like I was hearing God, not just talking at Him. Joy, gratefulness, worship. I actually felt like a new creation. The old was gone, the new had come!
That was the beginning of great spiritual growth, but also of great spiritual trial. That is not coincidental. The following years brought a devastating miscarriage that made me question God and my faith like nothing before, it brought repeated struggles with depression and anxiety that drove me to my knees and to my God. It brought loneliness as we moved away from family and comfort (safety!) and to where the Lord was leading us (not safe!). Loneliness that made me cling to Jesus because, with a toddler and an infant at the time, a husband at work and no real friends in a new place, He was often all I had. It brought other trials, but there were also many, many times of respite, rejoicing and a real knowledge of living in community and seeing the Body of Christ in action. Peaks and valleys. Growth and rest.
But as for the trials, this I know: Through that Bible study, He called me out of safety and to true knowledge of Him and His grace before He allowed me to walk those roads. He packed my bags before He sent me on the trip. His grace was, and is, truly sufficient for me.
Today, He reminded me that I was starting to let fear creep back in to my heart. Desire for stability and familiarity was quickly becoming an excuse to once again retreat to safety and fear-based decisions. I am so thankful that in His great love and mercy, He cares enough about us to not let us settle for mediocrity. (I also have a feeling this will not be the last time He has to remind me.)
Ah, there He goes again with that daily grace of His, refusing to let me be enslaved to my habits and tendencies today and any other day to come.
Amazing Grace.
Indeed.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
I'm Right Here
"I know you can't see me, baby, but I'm right here. Mama's right here, honey."
As soon as the words left my lips that day, I knew there was more to the moment. More than my attempt to comfort a wailing, sick and uncomfortable baby while driving to the pediatrician's office. Those words were meant for me as well.
That day as I drove, my heart was breaking and tears were brimming. I had never heard my sweet 10 month old scream like this, she always calms down and goes to sleep in the car. Always. But not this time. Every mile I drove seemed to bring a renewed intensity to her cries. (Later we would learn a nasty ear infection was the culprit.) Logically, I knew she was right where she needed to be - safely buckled in her rear-facing car seat so we could get to the doctor. But since she was facing backwards, of course she couldn't see me. She was hurting and desperately crying out for her mama and everything in me wanted to stop the hurt.
I mentally ran through my options. It would have been ridiculous (not to mention illegal) to take her out and drive the rest of the way with her on my lap. She would have been able to see me, to feel me, and it may have offered temporary relief, but would have put her in great danger. Forbid that something would happen, but nobody ever plans a car accident. Her little body would have no protection without her car seat. Not an option. I could have stopped and held her, but I knew the screams would start again as soon as I put her back in her seat. What she really needed was to get to the doctor without delay. So as her mother who loves her beyond words, I had to let her experience momentary discomfort in order to get her what she really needed. And it was hard. So hard.
My only option, all I could really do, was speak to her - to remind her I was close by even if she couldn't see me.
"I know you can't see me, but I'm right here . . ."
My husband pointed out the other day that as a family we have been through almost every major change possible over the past year: job changes, school changes, the birth of not just one but two precious babies, and a major move. Any one of those things would be enough to deal with, but all of them in such a short amount of time has proven extremely challenging to every part of me - spiritual, emotional and physical.
For various reasons, the past two months in particular has just about put me over the top. Or down in the depths. Whatever. Nothing feels settled, every area of life feels upended and there is no margin. There are mornings I wake up and tell God, "Nope, sorry. You got the wrong girl because I just can't do today." And of course I still get up, because I'm a grown-up and also because leaving five children to fend for themselves just really isn't such a great idea.
But the whole day often feels like a battle and I find myself grasping for spiritual straws - trying to read a verse here, throwing out prayers that hit the ceiling there - and I ask God, "Where are you? I know you're here. I know that logically. But I can't feel you. I can't see you. Are you sure you're here??"
" . . .I'm right here . . ."
That day as I drove, as the feeble attempt to calm my screaming baby escaped my lips, I realized the Lord was just as much comforting another one of children - the one that was driving, the one whose heart is screaming for her Father every day, who desperately needs to see Him. And He reminded me that just as I was doing the best for my child right then, so is He doing the same for me. Always.
Even when I can't see Him.
Even when I can't feel Him.
He's still driving me toward what I really need, even if it means discomfort. And while that doesn't completely dry my tears, and I still feel in the midst of daily battle, it feels good to at least hear His voice.
To be reminded He's right here.
As soon as the words left my lips that day, I knew there was more to the moment. More than my attempt to comfort a wailing, sick and uncomfortable baby while driving to the pediatrician's office. Those words were meant for me as well.
That day as I drove, my heart was breaking and tears were brimming. I had never heard my sweet 10 month old scream like this, she always calms down and goes to sleep in the car. Always. But not this time. Every mile I drove seemed to bring a renewed intensity to her cries. (Later we would learn a nasty ear infection was the culprit.) Logically, I knew she was right where she needed to be - safely buckled in her rear-facing car seat so we could get to the doctor. But since she was facing backwards, of course she couldn't see me. She was hurting and desperately crying out for her mama and everything in me wanted to stop the hurt.
I mentally ran through my options. It would have been ridiculous (not to mention illegal) to take her out and drive the rest of the way with her on my lap. She would have been able to see me, to feel me, and it may have offered temporary relief, but would have put her in great danger. Forbid that something would happen, but nobody ever plans a car accident. Her little body would have no protection without her car seat. Not an option. I could have stopped and held her, but I knew the screams would start again as soon as I put her back in her seat. What she really needed was to get to the doctor without delay. So as her mother who loves her beyond words, I had to let her experience momentary discomfort in order to get her what she really needed. And it was hard. So hard.
My only option, all I could really do, was speak to her - to remind her I was close by even if she couldn't see me.
"I know you can't see me, but I'm right here . . ."
My husband pointed out the other day that as a family we have been through almost every major change possible over the past year: job changes, school changes, the birth of not just one but two precious babies, and a major move. Any one of those things would be enough to deal with, but all of them in such a short amount of time has proven extremely challenging to every part of me - spiritual, emotional and physical.
For various reasons, the past two months in particular has just about put me over the top. Or down in the depths. Whatever. Nothing feels settled, every area of life feels upended and there is no margin. There are mornings I wake up and tell God, "Nope, sorry. You got the wrong girl because I just can't do today." And of course I still get up, because I'm a grown-up and also because leaving five children to fend for themselves just really isn't such a great idea.
But the whole day often feels like a battle and I find myself grasping for spiritual straws - trying to read a verse here, throwing out prayers that hit the ceiling there - and I ask God, "Where are you? I know you're here. I know that logically. But I can't feel you. I can't see you. Are you sure you're here??"
" . . .I'm right here . . ."
That day as I drove, as the feeble attempt to calm my screaming baby escaped my lips, I realized the Lord was just as much comforting another one of children - the one that was driving, the one whose heart is screaming for her Father every day, who desperately needs to see Him. And He reminded me that just as I was doing the best for my child right then, so is He doing the same for me. Always.
Even when I can't see Him.
Even when I can't feel Him.
He's still driving me toward what I really need, even if it means discomfort. And while that doesn't completely dry my tears, and I still feel in the midst of daily battle, it feels good to at least hear His voice.
To be reminded He's right here.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Hello Again
Well, then.
{Insert standard "wow-it's-been-forever-since-I've-posted" comment here}
(Really though - two years??)
(Sheesh.)
Instead of a forever long catch-up post, let's see how I can best summarize the past two years . . .
Wow. Reading over that list makes me feel somewhat justified at the state of my brain these days. I think it would be useful to have a wallet-size copy of my college diploma just so I could pull it out every so often and exclaim, "See! I really used to be smart!"
This is not an exaggeration. The other day I went to retrieve our dinner from the oven (It was the fancy frozen pizza. And by fancy, I mean Costco.) Oven mitt in place, I opened the door and proceeded to pull out the molten hot rack.
With my bare hand.
Like, the one without the oven mitt. Apparently, that's an important step I missed. I'm sure I didn't need those layers of skin anyway.
Young people, appreciate those brain cells.
So, hopefully it won't be another two years until the next post. Until then, I leave you with this little gem:
I had found these great Downton Abbey valentines and had a little too much fun hiding them in various spots for hubs to find that day. Lady Mary hiding on the bag of coffee declaring "I'm to die for", Mrs. Patmore asking, "Wanna spoon?" . . .so much fun. In fact, Mr. Bates continued to show up in interesting places for several days after Valentine's - it became a game of who could hide him in the best spot, because - really - what says love like Mr. Bates when you open the toilet lid??
I thought I had THE best place by far. Hubs was headed out of town for a couple of days and I couldn't wait for him to discover Mr. Bates had traveled in his carry-on all the way to South Carolina. Wife for the win!
But then a last-minute addition of toothpaste was necessary and my surprise was discovered before the bag even left the house. Boo. I was totally let down.
Until hubs observed that the last thing he needed was for TSA to open his bag and see this:
Because what would say "hilarious" like your husband being frisked down at the airport over a cryptic note declaring his innocence?? We all know what a great sense of humor those TSA agents have, after all!
Wife fail.
Well, I was ever so grateful he discovered his surprise before TSA did, even if it spoiled my fun. Oh, but Mr. Bates is still alive and well in our home waiting to be discovered. If you're ever here, just act normal if you happen to see him hanging around. I can't have my surprise spoiled again!
And at this point I realize two things:
-I might be a tad competitive
-I might be having a bit too much fun with printouts of fictional characters
{whips out wallet-size diploma} See, I really used to be smart . . .
{Insert standard "wow-it's-been-forever-since-I've-posted" comment here}
(Really though - two years??)
(Sheesh.)
Instead of a forever long catch-up post, let's see how I can best summarize the past two years . . .
Moving. Not moving. Moving maybe. Definitely moving. U-Haul stinks.
Pregnant. What?! TWINS. What what??!!
Maybe homeschool. Not homeschool. Not school. Awesome friend homeschools for me (see TWINS).
Happy to be in Texas again. Desperately missing friends in Georgia.
Definitely homeschool. All five children at home. All. The. Time.
Insanity. Someone MUST go to school. NOW. Regain sanity. At least for another day.
The End.
Wow. Reading over that list makes me feel somewhat justified at the state of my brain these days. I think it would be useful to have a wallet-size copy of my college diploma just so I could pull it out every so often and exclaim, "See! I really used to be smart!"
This is not an exaggeration. The other day I went to retrieve our dinner from the oven (It was the fancy frozen pizza. And by fancy, I mean Costco.) Oven mitt in place, I opened the door and proceeded to pull out the molten hot rack.
With my bare hand.
Like, the one without the oven mitt. Apparently, that's an important step I missed. I'm sure I didn't need those layers of skin anyway.
Young people, appreciate those brain cells.
So, hopefully it won't be another two years until the next post. Until then, I leave you with this little gem:
I had found these great Downton Abbey valentines and had a little too much fun hiding them in various spots for hubs to find that day. Lady Mary hiding on the bag of coffee declaring "I'm to die for", Mrs. Patmore asking, "Wanna spoon?" . . .so much fun. In fact, Mr. Bates continued to show up in interesting places for several days after Valentine's - it became a game of who could hide him in the best spot, because - really - what says love like Mr. Bates when you open the toilet lid??
I thought I had THE best place by far. Hubs was headed out of town for a couple of days and I couldn't wait for him to discover Mr. Bates had traveled in his carry-on all the way to South Carolina. Wife for the win!
But then a last-minute addition of toothpaste was necessary and my surprise was discovered before the bag even left the house. Boo. I was totally let down.
Until hubs observed that the last thing he needed was for TSA to open his bag and see this:
Because what would say "hilarious" like your husband being frisked down at the airport over a cryptic note declaring his innocence?? We all know what a great sense of humor those TSA agents have, after all!
Wife fail.
Well, I was ever so grateful he discovered his surprise before TSA did, even if it spoiled my fun. Oh, but Mr. Bates is still alive and well in our home waiting to be discovered. If you're ever here, just act normal if you happen to see him hanging around. I can't have my surprise spoiled again!
And at this point I realize two things:
-I might be a tad competitive
-I might be having a bit too much fun with printouts of fictional characters
{whips out wallet-size diploma} See, I really used to be smart . . .
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
And....Done.
Children never cease to amaze me with their insight. They have this uncanny knack to beautifully untangle truths that we adults have complicated, over-analyzed and picked apart.
Now, call me biased, but I happen to think our oldest daughter is extraordinary at this. She is a very deep thinker and possesses an understanding way beyond her years. And, although I'm accustomed to this, she still knocks me off my feet every now and then.
This happened just a few nights ago. Part of our bedtime routine is reading out of a fabulous little devotional book for girls. It always starts with a passage of Scripture and then follows with some kind of application.
Our bedtime devotional reading that particular evening was centered around how God has gifted each of us with certain abilities to build up other believers and also bring glory to God. After a brief chat about what gifts God had given her, my daughter relayed this conclusion to me...
Speechless.
After I recovered, all I could finally say was, "That is simply the best explanation of that I have ever heard."
And then our devotional was done. Because, really. What else could I add to that??
What a beautiful picture of what it really means to bring God glory. To bring Him complete joy as He watches us enjoy, cultivate and use our gifts as He intended.
I don't know about you, but the thought of bringing the Lord joy makes me want to use my gifts. And, like my daughter's analogy, play with them a lot. A lot, a lot. :-)
Now, call me biased, but I happen to think our oldest daughter is extraordinary at this. She is a very deep thinker and possesses an understanding way beyond her years. And, although I'm accustomed to this, she still knocks me off my feet every now and then.
This happened just a few nights ago. Part of our bedtime routine is reading out of a fabulous little devotional book for girls. It always starts with a passage of Scripture and then follows with some kind of application.
Our bedtime devotional reading that particular evening was centered around how God has gifted each of us with certain abilities to build up other believers and also bring glory to God. After a brief chat about what gifts God had given her, my daughter relayed this conclusion to me...
"Mom, you know how when you get someone a birthday gift and then they open it and love it and play with it a lot? And that makes you so happy to see that they like it and play with it a lot, a lot? Well, I think that's kind of like God and the gifts He gives to us and it makes Him happy when we use them a lot, a lot."
Speechless.
After I recovered, all I could finally say was, "That is simply the best explanation of that I have ever heard."
And then our devotional was done. Because, really. What else could I add to that??
What a beautiful picture of what it really means to bring God glory. To bring Him complete joy as He watches us enjoy, cultivate and use our gifts as He intended.
I don't know about you, but the thought of bringing the Lord joy makes me want to use my gifts. And, like my daughter's analogy, play with them a lot. A lot, a lot. :-)
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Seeing a More Complete Picture
It seems this year I've been asking a lot of "Why" questions of God. I love Him, I love His Word and my brain understands that He is sovereign, unfailing and always right and true. But then things happen - either to our family, a loved one, or even to a complete stranger on the news - that make me stop and ask, "Really, God? Why did You allow that to happen? And why like that? I don't understand, Lord..."
I admit my shield of faith has taken some dangerously large hits as I've been trying to reconcile the idea of our free will with God's sovereignty. As in: He can stop something awful from happening, but He doesn't always choose to. And while I also know that my lack of understanding does not negate the perfection of God's will and plan for our lives, sometimes it's just plain hard living in a fallen world's imperfection.
However, a friend's recent Facebook status opened my eyes to another side of this story: the times when we are not left asking "Why?", when God does NOT allow tragedy to occur. The times when His plan includes merciful rescue or protection. My friend was visiting the home of a friend that happened to have a pool. Read this in awe: (my friend's daughter, Jenna, is about 2 years old)...
After reading this with goosebumps and tears, realizing how very close my friend's world had come to complete tragedy, I suddenly felt very foolish before the Lord. As I was praising and thanking Him for saving sweet little Jenna, it occurred to me that I don't thank and praise Him enough for His mercies - known or unknown. I have become so wrapped up with why He didn't act in some situations that I totally missed all the times that He DID. I have been so myopic that I've ignored the bigger of picture of WHO God is rather than what His hand is or is not doing.
I asked my friend's permission to post her story for two reasons:
1) God deserves the highest and utmost praise just because of who He is, but it is right and good to praise and thank Him for saving Jenna! More people that read the story = more praise and glory to God!!! As a mother, especially of a little girl the same age, I literally cannot stop thanking God for allowing the story to end as it did. The alternative is unthinkable. Thank you, Lord!! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!
2) It really boosted my faith to realize all the good that God is working - in my life, in others' lives and in this world - and I'm sure I don't even know a fraction of it. Just waking up in the morning and taking a breath is something to thank Him for! Maybe someone else out there needed a faith-boost as well, to see beyond the things that make us cry out "Why?" and know that things are happening all day long - whether we're aware of them or not - that require our praise and thanksgiving with just as much passion.
Lord, forgive my near-sightedness! Help me to have eyes that see and ears that hear all the ways you work in and around us!
(By the way, I love how God used a sweet doggie to accomplish His purpose! I'm pretty sure Olivia the Super Black Lab deserves all the belly rubs and doggie treats her little heart desires!!!)
I admit my shield of faith has taken some dangerously large hits as I've been trying to reconcile the idea of our free will with God's sovereignty. As in: He can stop something awful from happening, but He doesn't always choose to. And while I also know that my lack of understanding does not negate the perfection of God's will and plan for our lives, sometimes it's just plain hard living in a fallen world's imperfection.
However, a friend's recent Facebook status opened my eyes to another side of this story: the times when we are not left asking "Why?", when God does NOT allow tragedy to occur. The times when His plan includes merciful rescue or protection. My friend was visiting the home of a friend that happened to have a pool. Read this in awe: (my friend's daughter, Jenna, is about 2 years old)...
I am very grateful that the Lord was watching over Jenna today. She snuck outside, stripped down naked and jumped in the pool. She does not swim yet. A wonderfully protective black lab named Olivia pulled her out by her hair. Needless to say, she was pretty scared and has no desire to go outside or in the pool now! Thank you Lord for keeping my baby safe!
After reading this with goosebumps and tears, realizing how very close my friend's world had come to complete tragedy, I suddenly felt very foolish before the Lord. As I was praising and thanking Him for saving sweet little Jenna, it occurred to me that I don't thank and praise Him enough for His mercies - known or unknown. I have become so wrapped up with why He didn't act in some situations that I totally missed all the times that He DID. I have been so myopic that I've ignored the bigger of picture of WHO God is rather than what His hand is or is not doing.
I asked my friend's permission to post her story for two reasons:
1) God deserves the highest and utmost praise just because of who He is, but it is right and good to praise and thank Him for saving Jenna! More people that read the story = more praise and glory to God!!! As a mother, especially of a little girl the same age, I literally cannot stop thanking God for allowing the story to end as it did. The alternative is unthinkable. Thank you, Lord!! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!
2) It really boosted my faith to realize all the good that God is working - in my life, in others' lives and in this world - and I'm sure I don't even know a fraction of it. Just waking up in the morning and taking a breath is something to thank Him for! Maybe someone else out there needed a faith-boost as well, to see beyond the things that make us cry out "Why?" and know that things are happening all day long - whether we're aware of them or not - that require our praise and thanksgiving with just as much passion.
Lord, forgive my near-sightedness! Help me to have eyes that see and ears that hear all the ways you work in and around us!
(By the way, I love how God used a sweet doggie to accomplish His purpose! I'm pretty sure Olivia the Super Black Lab deserves all the belly rubs and doggie treats her little heart desires!!!)
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Can Somebody Hold My Hand?
I wrote this last week before Kindergarten actually started, but am just now getting it posted. Read on for an update at the end on how the first week went :-)
Hello.
My name is Leilanni.
And Kindergarten makes me cry.
Tomorrow, I will be sending our precious firstborn out into the world of "real" school. Granted, we've done Preschool, but Kindergarten is different. They go every day. There's homework. They keep records for goodness sakes!
I was honestly doing just fine, resolved NOT to be a blubbery mess over my sweet girl going to school. However, this changed about a week ago . . .
The baby was asleep upstairs and the other two girls were running around the house like they do every morning - playing princess, chase or whatever the game of the morning was - with a trail of giggles following them.
And suddenly it hit me - hard - that these days, these mornings of play-dough, silly songs and construction paper flurries, of playing in a cardboard box "submarine", choosing to be Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty, deciding on markers or crayons or both . . . these days were coming to an end. My "baby" was going to school. I guess I had never really considered what it would be like around here while she's gone half the day, five days a week.
And cue the waterworks . . . (they haven't stopped since).
Of course, life is not all rainbows and butterflies around here with three young girls - some days are extremely difficult, some days I want to pull my hair out. But I love being a stay-at-home mom. I love hearing the sounds of giggly girls all over the house. And ever since our oldest was born, since I do stay at home, she has been right by my side. Grocery shopping, playdates, family visits, roadtrips, cleaning, cooking, driving, doctor visits, window shopping - I've always taken her everywhere with me.
Call me sappy, but when she goes to Kindergarten I'll miss her.
I'm not sure I'm ready for this. Ever since my revelation that these care-free BK (Before Kindergarten) days are disappearing, I am having the hardest time thinking about this new phase we're entering into. Not just Kindergarten, but what it represents: another small step in the gradual letting-go process. Parenthood is the only job where slowly working yourself out of the job, creating independence in your child, is the measure of success.
Right about now is when my husband would remind me of a certain pattern he's picked up on in the 14 years he's known me. He likes to call it my "beginning of semester syndrome".
Let me explain. We were both in college when we met and began dating. At the beginning of each semester, after receiving all my course syllabi, I would call my very patient then-boyfriend and practically hyperventilate over the amount of papers due, the difficulty of the projects and the extremity of hands-on activities expected outside of class.
(Allow me to chase this bunny path for a moment . . .I was an education major so we were constantly doing classroom visits, diagnostics, evaluations, volunteering, etc. In one class relating to teaching Science in the school, this involved leading elementary age girls in dissecting a cow eyeball without retching and with a lovely smile on my face. Far be it for me to wreck a budding young scientist's career by implying taking apart an animal's organ is in some way completely disgusting. "See girls?! It just seems like the eyeball is relentlessly staring at you asking, 'Why? Why?!' I promise Bessie can't feel a thing..." Um, yeah. That didn't scar me or anything.)
Anyway. Stepping away from the bunny path and back to the story of my predictable pre-semester break-downs: My now-husband would patiently listen to my ranting and then oh so sweetly encourage me that I could do it. And at the end of every semester, when I once again succeeded, he somehow avoided saying "I told you so."
Toward the end of my Senior year, and during my traditional course-load anxiety session, my then-fiancee had the gall to say, "Do you realize that you do this at the beginning of every single semester? And you always do just fine?"
"What are you talking about?! I do NOT always . . .[enter flash of reality] Oh. You're right. Dang."
I really, truly had not realized my pattern!! Since then it's become something of a joke between us. At the beginning of any new venture I tend to spill out all the reasons it's scary, why it won't work, why I can't do it. And, with a cute little smirk that only he can get away with, my husband says, "Is this your beginning-of-semester-syndrome again?"
"NO. (yes.)"
So, yesterday I found myself driving home from a rare solo shopping trip, wondering how in the world our sweet girl was old enough to be in Kindergarten. When all of the sudden I realized I was doing it yet again. Here comes another new chapter in our lives and here I am wondering if I'm up to it (Can I actually get her to school on time? What if I forget to remind her about Show and Tell? What if a friend hurts her feelings? Girls can be so mean. What if the teacher doesn't understand her and her quirkiness? What if the teacher doesn't understand me? I do not want to be THAT parent. I know. So sad. Just bein' honest here, folks. And as a former teacher, it is VERY weird to be on this end.)
I'm more than confident I would have fit right in with those Old Testament Israelites. I seem to share a certain part of their DNA: They worried about enslavement. God set them free. They worried about being trapped by the Egyptians. God parted the river. They worried about food. God made bread rain down from Heaven. They worried about their enemies. God defeated them without a weapon being raised. Are we seeing a pattern here? Hmmm. It sounds suspiciously like mine! Worry. God provides. Worry. God provides . . .
Why do I have such a short spiritual memory? At every turn, every new venture, God has more than provided. I never saw it coming, the "how" of His provision, but it has always come. I would think that by now, with all that I have seen Him do in our lives, that I would be so over this "worrying" thing and so into this "trusting" thing.
But is anything harder than trusting someone else with your child? Is anything more difficult than letting go and letting them learn to fly?
Sigh. Right now, my answer is "no".
But, I still have to let her go. I will confidently take the "First Day of School" picture, reassure her that she will not get lost and smile and wave as I pull away from the carpool line.
And then like so many other moms, I will pull away a safe distance before dissolving in tears. And then I will probably call my husband and wait for his reminder that all is well. It's just another semester.
Okay. Since writing this, my girl has been in Kinder for a week now. And I survived! Actually, it was nowhere near as traumatic as I thought it would be. Did not even cry! Seriously! I still miss her during the day, but the excitement I hear in her voice every day at pick-up is so worth it. What really threw me for a loop? When I went to drop off our 2 year old for pre-school the next day. I figured I made it through the big-bad-Kindergarten first day . . . what's preschool for 2 mornings a week? Um, but guess who dropped off her middle "baby" and then pulled a safe distance away before bawling all the way home? Sigh. Just another semester . . .
Hello.
My name is Leilanni.
And Kindergarten makes me cry.
Tomorrow, I will be sending our precious firstborn out into the world of "real" school. Granted, we've done Preschool, but Kindergarten is different. They go every day. There's homework. They keep records for goodness sakes!
I was honestly doing just fine, resolved NOT to be a blubbery mess over my sweet girl going to school. However, this changed about a week ago . . .
The baby was asleep upstairs and the other two girls were running around the house like they do every morning - playing princess, chase or whatever the game of the morning was - with a trail of giggles following them.
And suddenly it hit me - hard - that these days, these mornings of play-dough, silly songs and construction paper flurries, of playing in a cardboard box "submarine", choosing to be Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty, deciding on markers or crayons or both . . . these days were coming to an end. My "baby" was going to school. I guess I had never really considered what it would be like around here while she's gone half the day, five days a week.
And cue the waterworks . . . (they haven't stopped since).
Of course, life is not all rainbows and butterflies around here with three young girls - some days are extremely difficult, some days I want to pull my hair out. But I love being a stay-at-home mom. I love hearing the sounds of giggly girls all over the house. And ever since our oldest was born, since I do stay at home, she has been right by my side. Grocery shopping, playdates, family visits, roadtrips, cleaning, cooking, driving, doctor visits, window shopping - I've always taken her everywhere with me.
Call me sappy, but when she goes to Kindergarten I'll miss her.
I'm not sure I'm ready for this. Ever since my revelation that these care-free BK (Before Kindergarten) days are disappearing, I am having the hardest time thinking about this new phase we're entering into. Not just Kindergarten, but what it represents: another small step in the gradual letting-go process. Parenthood is the only job where slowly working yourself out of the job, creating independence in your child, is the measure of success.
Right about now is when my husband would remind me of a certain pattern he's picked up on in the 14 years he's known me. He likes to call it my "beginning of semester syndrome".
Let me explain. We were both in college when we met and began dating. At the beginning of each semester, after receiving all my course syllabi, I would call my very patient then-boyfriend and practically hyperventilate over the amount of papers due, the difficulty of the projects and the extremity of hands-on activities expected outside of class.
(Allow me to chase this bunny path for a moment . . .I was an education major so we were constantly doing classroom visits, diagnostics, evaluations, volunteering, etc. In one class relating to teaching Science in the school, this involved leading elementary age girls in dissecting a cow eyeball without retching and with a lovely smile on my face. Far be it for me to wreck a budding young scientist's career by implying taking apart an animal's organ is in some way completely disgusting. "See girls?! It just seems like the eyeball is relentlessly staring at you asking, 'Why? Why?!' I promise Bessie can't feel a thing..." Um, yeah. That didn't scar me or anything.)
Anyway. Stepping away from the bunny path and back to the story of my predictable pre-semester break-downs: My now-husband would patiently listen to my ranting and then oh so sweetly encourage me that I could do it. And at the end of every semester, when I once again succeeded, he somehow avoided saying "I told you so."
Toward the end of my Senior year, and during my traditional course-load anxiety session, my then-fiancee had the gall to say, "Do you realize that you do this at the beginning of every single semester? And you always do just fine?"
"What are you talking about?! I do NOT always . . .[enter flash of reality] Oh. You're right. Dang."
I really, truly had not realized my pattern!! Since then it's become something of a joke between us. At the beginning of any new venture I tend to spill out all the reasons it's scary, why it won't work, why I can't do it. And, with a cute little smirk that only he can get away with, my husband says, "Is this your beginning-of-semester-syndrome again?"
"NO. (yes.)"
So, yesterday I found myself driving home from a rare solo shopping trip, wondering how in the world our sweet girl was old enough to be in Kindergarten. When all of the sudden I realized I was doing it yet again. Here comes another new chapter in our lives and here I am wondering if I'm up to it (Can I actually get her to school on time? What if I forget to remind her about Show and Tell? What if a friend hurts her feelings? Girls can be so mean. What if the teacher doesn't understand her and her quirkiness? What if the teacher doesn't understand me? I do not want to be THAT parent. I know. So sad. Just bein' honest here, folks. And as a former teacher, it is VERY weird to be on this end.)
I'm more than confident I would have fit right in with those Old Testament Israelites. I seem to share a certain part of their DNA: They worried about enslavement. God set them free. They worried about being trapped by the Egyptians. God parted the river. They worried about food. God made bread rain down from Heaven. They worried about their enemies. God defeated them without a weapon being raised. Are we seeing a pattern here? Hmmm. It sounds suspiciously like mine! Worry. God provides. Worry. God provides . . .
Why do I have such a short spiritual memory? At every turn, every new venture, God has more than provided. I never saw it coming, the "how" of His provision, but it has always come. I would think that by now, with all that I have seen Him do in our lives, that I would be so over this "worrying" thing and so into this "trusting" thing.
But is anything harder than trusting someone else with your child? Is anything more difficult than letting go and letting them learn to fly?
Sigh. Right now, my answer is "no".
But, I still have to let her go. I will confidently take the "First Day of School" picture, reassure her that she will not get lost and smile and wave as I pull away from the carpool line.
And then like so many other moms, I will pull away a safe distance before dissolving in tears. And then I will probably call my husband and wait for his reminder that all is well. It's just another semester.
Okay. Since writing this, my girl has been in Kinder for a week now. And I survived! Actually, it was nowhere near as traumatic as I thought it would be. Did not even cry! Seriously! I still miss her during the day, but the excitement I hear in her voice every day at pick-up is so worth it. What really threw me for a loop? When I went to drop off our 2 year old for pre-school the next day. I figured I made it through the big-bad-Kindergarten first day . . . what's preschool for 2 mornings a week? Um, but guess who dropped off her middle "baby" and then pulled a safe distance away before bawling all the way home? Sigh. Just another semester . . .
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Brain Cells, I Miss You. XOXOXO
After long writing hiatuses (is that even a word? spell check didn't fuss at me, but it still looks strange. anyway.), I usually pop on here and say something like, "Wow, can't believe how long it's been, going to try to write more, blah, blah, blah."
And then 4 more months pass. Lather, rinse, repeat.
So. No more of those delusional statements. With three children ages 5, 2 and almost 1 I have come to peace with a crazy radical idea: I will write when I have time. And be okay with that.
Wow. Did that blow your socks off or what?
Take a moment and collect yourselves.
Alrighty then, moving on. I really have nothing deep to share today. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've been wading in the shallow end all week. Case in point? So far this week I have learned the following:
-When making coffee, it seems to work better to add water to the coffee maker. It makes it, um, more liquidy;
-Sewing machines will not run without electricity. Therefore, it might be helpful to actually remove the plug from the packaging before tossing the box into the garage for trash day;
-If confounded why your fabric is wet and cold during ironing,as opposed to warm and steamy, it is a generally accepted practice to plug the iron into the wall. See sewing machine example.
-Before deciding that your vacuum cleaner must be on the fritz since it is not actually sucking up any dirt, it would be a good idea to turn the switch from "hose" to "floor". Especially before "vacuuming" half a room until noticing this.
Seriously, people!! What is wrong with me this week?? These aren't exactly difficult tasks!
Please make me feel better and tell me you've been there, too. And if you haven't, at least make up something really good...
And then 4 more months pass. Lather, rinse, repeat.
So. No more of those delusional statements. With three children ages 5, 2 and almost 1 I have come to peace with a crazy radical idea: I will write when I have time. And be okay with that.
Wow. Did that blow your socks off or what?
Take a moment and collect yourselves.
Alrighty then, moving on. I really have nothing deep to share today. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've been wading in the shallow end all week. Case in point? So far this week I have learned the following:
-When making coffee, it seems to work better to add water to the coffee maker. It makes it, um, more liquidy;
-Sewing machines will not run without electricity. Therefore, it might be helpful to actually remove the plug from the packaging before tossing the box into the garage for trash day;
-If confounded why your fabric is wet and cold during ironing,as opposed to warm and steamy, it is a generally accepted practice to plug the iron into the wall. See sewing machine example.
-Before deciding that your vacuum cleaner must be on the fritz since it is not actually sucking up any dirt, it would be a good idea to turn the switch from "hose" to "floor". Especially before "vacuuming" half a room until noticing this.
Seriously, people!! What is wrong with me this week?? These aren't exactly difficult tasks!
Please make me feel better and tell me you've been there, too. And if you haven't, at least make up something really good...
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