Hard Mommy Days: Musings on Mary

courtesy:  Jill Greenberg

Today would be classified as a "Hard Mommy Day". One of my first, and most assuredly not one of my last. VULNERABILITY WARNING: I'm sitting here crying over my open Bible and a glass of white wine. I am tired. So. tired. I even managed to nap today...but these dark circles under my eyes won't lie.

Daddy was gone, to begin with(can YOU guess that reference?).  That always complicates my day when there are errands involved. What could have been a highly productive day was completely sabotaged by my not-so-productive child (how dare she?!). I barely managed to make my Saturday morning coffee study(mind you, we were a whopping thirty minutes late). And Rosebud--though happy and typically quite joyful--couldn't survive very long past breakfast. It was naptime. She was tired and wanted to curl up in her warm, comfortable crib. But Mommy wanted to visit, and so we stayed, all the while rocking and swaying with a fuzzy blanket. Eventually she fell asleep and the momentary quiet came. I was thankful. I managed to make it through the first portion of my errands unscathed, but then the child stirred and my outing was thwarted. My child is phenomenally patient, though, and entertained herself well with her surroundings. But when her patience wore thin, she informed me--quite loudly, I might add. And soon, I was in the checkout line hastily rummaging through my items. We made it home and naptime ensued. Once again, my quiet came. I'm learning to lean into those moments because they're so rare.

Later, we strolled to the mall to meet up with a friend. Seems innocent enough, right? Rosebud was clean, full and happy. There were a few whiney moments spattered into our outing, but overall, she was carefree...until J. Crew. I'll have you know that store is not  stroller conducive. We got stuck several times, and I received some choice looks for even attempting to stroller shop in the store. But who says Mommy can't be fashionable? Oh, right. J. Crew. Because when you become a mom your sense of fashion flies out the window with your brain( okay, maybe I DO prefer yoga pants and a tank top, but STILL). I don't think it's intentional, because I noticed another stroller. I silently acknowledged my comrade and congratulated him for persevering through the tiny crevice that is that store. I did everything in my power to ensure the babe was content, but nothing worked. I tried to placate her with toys, but she got bored. When we began strolling around(unsuccessfully), the waterworks started.

Cue: Meltdown #1

It was deafening. And--had I not been used to the wails--I might have been embarrassed. My friend's enduring patience is a testament to who she is. When Rosebud cried incessantly in the men's section, she entertained her. When I apologized for having such a verbal, alert child, she assured me that Rosebud's motor skills are top-knotch. I'm forever grateful for friends like that.

But our efforts were wasted. The babe won. And amazingly, I felt overwhelmed with compassion on my little bean. She can't help that she's so tiny and dependent. It's not her fault she didn't come into the world as an adult. And besides, I concluded on the way home, it's nice to be needed. Our stroll back to the house was again peaceful. I laughed at the thought that 5 minutes prior, my kid was screaming. But she needs structure. She needs her bed. I was thankful for the means to provide just that.

When she slept, so did I. We didn't wake up until our tummies reminded us to eat. Since it had been a hard afternoon, I rewarded us with a trip to our favorite place: Trader Joe's. We strolled across the street to purchase dinner[and Sunday lunch]. We were both pleasantly bundled and enjoying the crisp air...and then we reached the store.

Cue: meltdown #2

We made it about halfway through my small list, when Rosebud again started to cry. Thankfully, the TJs people are about as non-judgmental as you can get, so I wasn't really shaken. But the exhaustion hit. And, I too, wanted to join my child. Almost out of nowhere, a woman approached me. She complimented my daughter and began speaking to her. Instant calm(on both fronts). Rosebud marveled at this woman. So did I. She was so kind. We talked for some time,

You're a good mommy. She's going to be better because you're with her. Don't forget that. You rest when she does. You have the rest of your life to do housework. Just love her. You're doing a great job.

I call her my Christmas Angel. She must have seen the exhaustion on my face. She must have remembered feeling that way herself. Oh, what a blessing she'll never know she was.

When we returned home, I felt thankful. I quickly fed my daughter and laid her down, then began my dinner. A few minutes into the evolution, I smelled plastic--melted plastic. I had accidentally turned on the wrong stove eye, and some of my baby's bottles were burning. By the time I got to the wreckage, they looked about as hopeful as Frosty on the 4th of July. It was pathetic.

Cue: meltdown #3

I quickly aerated the house; opening doors and windows all over. The smell left quickly. The baby was fine. But...what a mess. Oh, what a mess. I tearfully scraped the bottom of our gumbo pot, thankful it wasn't ruined.

As I write this now, shivering in my detoxed home, I can't help but remember Mary.

I am the Lord's servant.

She couldn't have known about meltdowns, right? Or about the complexities of pregnancy and delivery? And the intensity of the situation just must not have bothered her, you know?

No. She was fully aware of the context. And she had probably spent time with babies. But she still gratefully accepted her role.

I love Mary. I've always thought she was so honest. She wasn't afraid to ask Gabriel how things would play out. But when he responded with, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you..."(Luke 2:35) she questioned no further, but instead chose to trust.

I am the Lord's servant.

She said "yes" to this inconceivable, scandalous miracle. She said "yes" to the way her 14-year old body would soon change. She said "yes" to the grubby, joyful, chaotic role of motherhood; to serving unselfishly and daily dying to herself with (seemingly) little return for your labor.

She did it for her King.

Today--and everyday-- I am going to strive to be like Mary. Not because she's awesome, but because God is. He is worthy of my life---my service, my love, and my wholehearted devotion--even when my current role feels discouraging sometimes.

I am thankful for:
My servant-hearted husband( if he didn't love and serve us so well, days like this wouldn't feel so overwhelming without him). My understanding mall buddy. Naps. Compliant, smiling Trader Joe's shoppers. My Christmas Angel. A sense of smell(to catch those bottles!). My warm bed. Tonight's yummy dinner. My patient, active, joyful daughter. My opportunity to be a wife and mother.

But, most of all, I am thankful for Christ.

I am the Lord's servant whatever the day, whatever the role.

Fear vs. Freedom: Pregnancy...So Far

 

Ever since I found out that there is a tiny human growing inside of me, it feels like nothing has been the same. And I'm not just talking about my waist size. My hormones alone have been...well, extreme {to say the least}. Add that to pumping an extra 50% more blood{which means shortness of breath, fatigue and tripling my water intake} plus cravings/ food aversions and you've got the recipe for chaos. Or at least, in my brain. That's another thing: I forget things constantly. So much so that I keep a running list of things people say, what I'm supposed to do, etc.  This leaves my already ADD functioning brain majorly crippled. It's not a bad thing. It's just a different season. In fact, this baby{Babe-o, as I fondly call him/her} is a blessing. But it's one of those blessings that sometimes feels like a burden. Call me crazy if you want. I'll probably get some kind of reprimand for being so honest. But someone very wise recently reminded me that honesty makes you more approachable, and that's what I'm aiming for here, folks. I don't want to paint some façade of a perfect life. I want to be raw. My goal is {as always} to make you feel a little less crazy normal by sharing some of my craziness  life experiences with the world. If you're still reading, kudos to you, Glen Coco!

The word burden  has developed a negative connotation. It's sad, really. I feel sorry for burden. Poor burden. People hear it and instantly think you mean you're dissatisfied with what you've got. But the noun burden literally means "that which is carried". No joke. It's just something you carry. I could say that my purse is a burden. Or my hair is a burden('cause, you  know...I carry it on my head...and stuff). But that doesn't mean I'm saying the burden is unwanted.

I realize you probably wonder where this is going. I'm getting there, promise.

So if this Babe-o feels like a burden, it's because it is. Physically, my body changing drastically. My hips are expanding, and my tummy looks like a semi-inflated beach ball. My clothes aren't quite as loose as they used to be, and I fall asleep a lot sooner than my standard bedtime. My mood shifts periodically{sometimes I wonder if Relient K wasn't totally off about their point that emotional girls should all wear mood rings. Except, I think only preggos should. Might make things a little easier on the rest of the world...}. And my desire for food is ongoing. BUT I'm thankful for it all: the growth, the discomfort, the overwhelming truth that this person inside of me has to get out somehow{WHAT?! I still haven't come to grips with that one. Mr. Stork, you're coming, right? We'll do this together, yeah? Great :) } I want this burden. I want this thing that I am physically carrying inside of my body. Not because it's such a cool experience(don't get me wrong...it is amazing!) but because God has given it to me. So everything that happens is a blessing.

When I first found out about the baby{at around 6 weeks} I was blatantly attacked with fear. What if the baby doesn't get the nutrients it needs? What if my body can't handle this? Or worse: what if this baby doesn't make it? What will I do?
That is Satan's Game. He wanted me to partner with the lie that God is not in control.

When I was about 9 weeks along, some of my lab work came back abnormal. I listened as the nurse on the phone calmly explained that my child could have the disease, and that my husband needed to be tested as well. She murmured something about Genetic Counseling and potentials risks involved, but the words Cystic Fibrosis just kept flashing through my brain. I called Tyler back and together we decided that he would get tested. Then, I researched{if you're preggo and wildly imaginative, don't do a lot of this...}. Then, I buried my head in my pillow and cried.

It wasn't until I read the Apostle Paul's words in Philippians, that my perspective changed:

I know what it is to be in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength

-Phil. 4:12-13

If the Apostle Paul--who faced prison, floggings, stoning, shipwreck-- can be "content whatever the circumstance", then so can I. What PEACE lies in believing that!

I am now about 17 weeks along. My story progresses with the bump. I work, play and generally do life with it.  Sometimes the bump slays me, and I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to type, but other days, I feel energized and healthy. And every day, whatever the circumstance, I am reminded to be thankful.

The current lie I am tempted to believe is that Babe-o won't move, or that something terrible could be wrong because I haven't felt anything yet. In every week of this journey, there are potential "plagues" to entertain.

But if I have learned anything so far, it is this: The Enemy wants for me{or you, if you're a preggo like me} to lasso the lies; to let them entangle me and cultivate fear. But GOD--the Creator of both ME and my Babe-o, My Abba--graciously {and daily} ushers me into freedom with HIS truth--Babe-o is "fearfully and wonderfully made"(Psalm 139) and I must "Seek the Lord and his strength continually"(Psalm 105).

So yes, Babe-o is a burden. But I carry it joyfully and peacefully in daily dependence upon my Savior.

And each day I am presented the challenge: Will you partner with fear or freedom?

Today{and every day} I choose freedom.


This entry, of course, begs a Braveheart reference:

Hope that Makes Me Dance

I apologize for being MIA lately. Last week, I was preparing for our vacation to Dixie, and this week we're actually here with my family, so things have been a bit crazy! Please excuse anything here that doesn't make much sense. I am currently writing this "doped up" on pain meds and antibiotics. Yes, that's right, as soon as I got to GA pollen reared its ugly head and my poor, pathetic body just couldn't fight it. Ha! Acute Sinusitis it is. And let me tell you...it is not  "a- cute"!(Cheesy, I know, but the joke was dangling in front of my face!)Who knows? Maybe I'll make more sense than usual? Thanks for your patience.

There's a song that has been playing in my head for the past month. It's a new one, entitled "Create in Me" by Rend Collective Experiment. I love it because it's pretty darn catchy, but also, it's David's prayer in Psalm 51. The words are quite simple, but they're also quite beautiful.

The chorus goes something like this:

Create in me a clean, clean heart

Create in me a work of art

Create in me a miracle

Something real and something beautiful

This is repeated several times in the beginning, then the tempo kicks up and the band starts chanting:

You're not finished with me yet, You're not finished with me yet. By God's power I can change, I can change 'cause you're not finished with me yet.

Sometimes I really get discouraged with my spiritual growth. Because I'm human, I always have expectations of myself. Plus, I'm overall just a Negative Nancy. There is always something broken that needs to be fixed. There is always a better lifestyle, or situation . "The grass is always greener..." should be tattooed on my forehead.(If you are familiar with the Temperaments Test, you should know that I am a Melancholy...and if you're familiar with the Spiritual Gifts test, it may also behoove you to know that I am a Mercy. Put those together, and I'm the Perfect Storm of emotions. My poor husband) But the Lord reminded me in this song that the day-by-day moments are what matters most. There is always hope because of what He has done...and there are always reasons to be thankful. The question: How can I glorify God most in this day? has been a helpful perspective-shifter for me. Because of Christ Jesus, my future is secure and I am a new creation. So WHY do I worry so much over the hypothetical "what if's" that I create on a daily basis? The Lord is concerned with how He is glorified day-by-day. He delights in those little moments of praise; in a thankful, hopeful heart. There is NO sense in getting discouraged over growth that I don't see happening. And it is just selfish for me to think that this season of my God-ordained life is a waste, or isn't good enough.  A)Then I am far too focused on  myself and my heart becomes divided...and B) I'm robbing God of glory by telling Him that what he has placed in my lap(which, by the way, is a sweet life FULL of nothing but blessings for which I need to be thankful) is "not as good as _____"(TALK ABOUT A SLAP IN THE FACE?!)

The reality is that God is always good and that he gives good things to his children(Luke 11:13). After such a sobering revelation(see above disjointed, frantically-written paragraph) it's easy for more discouragement to flood in. But, like David in Psalm 51, and like my friends in RCE,I have to come before Jesus with that prayer: Lord, I've failed again, but could you  Create in me a clean, clean heart. Create in me a work of art. Create in me a miracle, something real and something beautiful. And, like in this song, I will repeat it over and over again, probably daily, because I am weak and incapable apart from Jesus. Thankfully, though, He wants us to press into the hope that he is NOT finished with us yet, to find those reasons for thanksgiving. Thank the Lord that he loves us past our negativity and complaining hearts. Thank goodness  He has pledged to keep working on us, to continue making us more like Himself.  If you listen to the song, you'll hear the artists' interpretation of it. They're joyful, ectstatic even. So much so, that you can't help  but burst out dancing when you hear it. It's because He's NOT finished with us yet! Some days when I think about this, I feel like bursting into laughter and wild dancing. Crazy? Maybe. But totally appropriate, right? :)

Just another day in the life of this weirdo :)
Create in Me [video]

All the Single Ladies

I’m not going to pretend that I know how you feel.  I’m not going to tell you an inspirational story of how I waited for years on end, and just when it seemed like there was no hope, my “knight in shining armor” swept me off my feet.  I can’t sympathize with you when you say that you feel like you’ll never meet that person who helps your life make a little more sense…or the one who will be right beside you through thick and through thin, to encourage you, hold you and comfort you. I just can’t. I have that person. In fact, he is literally right beside me drinking his coffee. Mine is the story of a girl who married her soul mate right out of college , so I can’t say that I waited too long for “Mr. Right” to come along(Although, when it comes to the game of love, any waiting period seems like an eternity).And I am thankful, believe me. But this is not about how I can or cannot relate. This is about you.

I was one of the first people in my circle of friends to get married a little over a year ago. Most of my closest friends aren’t married yet. We’ve all been out of college for about a year and a half now, and they are working/finishing school/starting grad school while I am just now settling into what I call my “normal marriage routine”.  We’re in different seasons, but so what? They’re still some of the most important people in my corner, and though we can’t relate on every level, they help me manage my “crazy”. I love these people with my whole heart. I need them. And no, I can’t fully relate to them. We’ve established this. Sometimes that means I don’t know how to encourage them when they’re feeling particularly discouraged about the “L” word.  But my heart aches for them, and as I was driving home today from work (apparently my wheels spin best when I’m in the car or the shower…) I felt particularly burdened for them. 

My husband was my first official boyfriend. I had crushes my entire life (probably a new one every month in  middle school..oh dear goodness). There were sometimes mutual crushes, but for the most part, the feelings I had were unrequited.  Dealing with that was hard, and there times when my heart felt like it couldn’t handle any more rejection…or couldn’t wait around much longer. I was pretty pathetic (you can ask my two college besties).  I remember feeling so incredibly hopeless and lonely. I would see a boy on my college campus during a walk to class and think, is HE my future husband? Yeah, I was that girl. So when my husband picked me, out of every woman in the world, to be his wife, I was shocked and relieved really, because I knew that in the past I had gone about things horribly wrong. My hope was misplaced and my desire for a husband was too much of a crutch. For so many years, I desired husband to feel happy and content; to feel like I could trust the Lord with this major life decision. I don’t know why, but I felt like somehow being married would solve all of my life problems. SPOILER ALERT: it doesn’t J

You, my friends, are not like that. And I can’t allow a moment of discouragement hinder you from seeing how beautiful you are. I admire you. And even though I don’t know exactly what you are feeling, I want to be here to remind you of who I see. You are strong and selfless. You have a holy independence, submitting to the Father, and you take Him at his word. Your trust in his character is indelible. And your resolute focus inspires me. You might think that because you don’t have a husband yet that something is wrong with you. Or that your standards are unreasonably high. But that is not the case. When I look at you, I see a woman who wholly hopes in God(Ps. 39:7), and who continues to give of herself that He may be glorified. I see someone who’s need to love people surpasses her need to find a husband(Ruth 1:16). I see someone who is trusting while she waits, instead of hastily making her own plans (Prov. 3:5-6) I see a peaceful spirit because you choose not to partner with fear( 1 Peter 3:6). I see a woman who cultivates a heart of thanksgiving (1 Samuel 2:1-2). I see someone whose quiet confidence points ever to Christ(Isa. 30:15). I see you. And each new day that you choose to rest in God’s faithful provision(whether or not he deems fit that you have a husband) I know he is glorified. I mean, every time you come to mind I can’t help but squeal a bit and think, gosh, she is so cool. So I know that the Lord is literally singing in exultation over the woman that you are (Zeph. 3:17).  And you are  an amazingly talented, beautiful inside-and-out person. I am thankful for you. And I am confident that just by being  you lives are being changed and hearts are being blessed.  I know I cannot begin to understand how your heart is hurting, but I’m here to rejoice over who and where you are now. And I love the heck out of you. I am thankful for your influence on my life and it is a blessing to learn from your friendship. Day-by-day you are becoming more like our good, merciful God, and I think that is something worth celebrating.

Also, Colin Firth likes you "just as you are":)

Tear-Full

Ever since we moved to California, the silliest things trigger my tears.  The only catch is, to me they are not silly. For example, the other day I started crying when I heard I’ll Be Home for Christmas because I felt thankful to be spending Christmas with the man God has designed for me. And the other night, when Tyler and I were watching TV, a Carter’s Kids commercial about moms came on, and I started bawling because it made me miss my mother. Then the other day, I cried while hanging pictures, because one of the frames was inscribed with, “All Because Two People Fell in Love” and I thought about the people in our (mine and Tyler’s) lives who have exemplified godly marriage, like our grandparents and parents.  Sometimes, a mere look from Tyler will spark the "waterworks".  Or a thought of a family member will make me burst into tears. What’s funny is, when the tears come, I am more often than not with Tyler. And yes, he is usually confused. I’m convinced he believes I’m crazy( not really). Honestly, I’ll cry anywhere and everywhere, with no shame. Like Tyler, the people out here don’t know how to respond either. It sounds depressing, doesn’t it? But the difference is my tears are what I believe to be an overflow of a thankful heart. I don’t know if you have been following my blog since our move, but it is filled with some raw posts. Most of them discuss my growing need for Jesus through a daily realization of new sin. It’s hard to be in that place—of constant sanctification, of continually realizing that you are not good enough on your own; that you desperately need a Savior. But now at the end of what seemed like life’s dreariest spiritual tunnel, I see that it was/is the very best place to be. To be so pathetic and insatiable on a daily basis is good for my heart; it produces with me both gratitude and humility. I need that 24/7. 

That first paragraph up there was written before the shootings of this morning occurred.  Anything that I type now seems utterly worthless. In fact, I’m not sure of how to respond. I just know I felt led to write something.  But…what? What do you say to those families who lost their precious children? Or to those families of the teachers who died for the protection of little lives? How do I respond to this random, heinous crime? I honestly don’t know. When I first read the article, I felt angry at the gunman, and glad he died. I felt unsafe. I felt broken-hearted. And I cried.  I fell apart. Immediately, I grabbed Shiloh, held her in my arms, and cried into her soft black fur. That may seem strange, but she was the only warm-blooded creature nearby, and it was oddly comforting. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I tried to think of a productive chore to keep me busy, but all I’ve been able to do since hearing the news is sit on my couch and cry. Surprisingly, the most overwhelming emotion of the day has not been bitterness or sorrow. Yes, I am devastated for the families of those lost. But more than anything, I am thankful. Not thankful this happened. Not thankful our nation had to endure yet another tragedy. Not thankful that lives were lost. That would be cruel and senseless of me. But because of this event, my heart wells up with gratitude for the love I’ve been surrounded with. I’m thankful…

For a Daddy who always, without fail, points me to Christ; who loves me unconditionally, and is never too proud to hold me in his arms and tell me, “Everything will be OK”.  I’m thankful for this man, whose heart breaks a little bit more with every new step towards the heart of God. And through whom the experienced presence of God is more evident every time I see him. 

For a Mother, who faithfully serves and loves her family, and with whom I can talk at any hour about any topic. And through whom I have observed the most apparent example of tender mercies. She has shown me how to love people authentically, and organically. And, now that I a wife, I have resolved that she has been my best model of what it looks like to honor the Lord as both a woman and a wife. 

For a big sister, who always exceeded my expectations of a sister; who exemplifies motherhood in a radical, beautiful way, and who is never too old to let me call her “Sissy”.

For a big brother, who is truly the brother I never thought I would receive, who shares my sense of humor, and loves to make people smile. He cares for his family in the most genuinely selfless way.

For a wonderful namesake niece, who’s smile can brighten anyone’s day, and who’s laughter is contagious. She is not merely a ray of sunshine, she IS sunshine.

For a niece or nephew to come…who will most assuredly sweeten our little clan.

For a Grandmother, who generously gave to her family for years, never asking for anything but love. She fought to protect and serve her family with kindness, wisdom and honor. Plus, she just knew how to make me laugh.

For a Rogie, who left a legacy of lovely, creative, spunky people. She loved her family well, especially through heartache, and yet daily proclaimed,” The Lord is in control”. 

For the generations of aunts, uncles, and cousins, who have lovingly shown me the value of sacrificially loving your family--whatever the cost, whatever the season. 

For a new family, who I am excited to learn how to love. And by whom I already feel immeasurably blessed and welcomed. 

For a husband, who patiently deals with my sin, loves me through it, and pushes me to know Christ in a rich way. He seeks to love me more furiously, and make me feel valued, like no one else has apart from Christ. Being in this marriage with him as given me a clearer picture of the Lord’s fierce and unending love. 

Finally, for a Father, who is FAITHFUL even when I am faithless. For this Savior who relentlessly

pursues my stubborn, unwilling heart daily. For his abounding love, and patience. For his coming as an innocent, tiny, seemingly helpless child to save a people for himself.

Though I cannot understand what those mourning may feel, I know how I am to respond: in tear-full thanksgiving.

It is humbling that the God of the Universe loves us each enough to remind us to be thankful.  It makes me want to hug the ones I love a little bit longer, and to spend more time telling them why I love them.

So, if you’re reading this, know that you are loved. The God of Creation loved you enough to sacrifice his only Son. Isn’t it reassuring to know that, when we have no possible way of understanding, He can empathize with these hurting people?

“Give thanks to the Lord…for he satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul he fills with good things”-Psalm 107:9

“You keep track of all my sorrows…You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book”- Ps. 56:8