I’ve spent the past six days with the flu. Body aching, tummy churning, head stuffed up and throbbing. The last time I had the flu was in 2009 when I had the H1N1. This has been a walk in the park compared to that! My Honey came down with this flu about a week before me, our daughter started the same day as me and then our twins got it two days after us. Everyone came home to be cared for by me during the day and we all just laid around, while my Honey cared for us in the evenings by making tea, warming ginger ale, Zarbee’s and loads of soup.
Today I feel human…
I also feel like I lost a week and while I should just be thankful, I’m having a quick little pity party. I struggle with wasted time, accomplishing little.
I’m heading to the chiropractor in a bit because lying in bed has wreaked havoc on my back, arms and sciatic nerve.
SO… I’m thankful that I didn’t miss any work, and I have a husband who loves his family and makes a great nurse and I can just get in my car and get Chiro care. Also, I’m thankful for feeling like a living, breathing human being again, instead of some walking dead girl.
If I protest the destruction of the rainforests, does that mean I want all of the other kinds of forests to be destroyed?
If I walk in the Susan B. Komen Race for the Cure, am I opposed to other forms of cancer being cured? – Or am I just opposed to Democrats…
Do all lives matter to the police equally? Do the indictment records reflect this?
Where are all of these blue people? Are they blue all of the time? Do they choose to be blue or are they born that color? Can they take their blue off – for a little while, at least? Or forever, if they choose? What about the black people? Are they born black or did they choose to be black? Can they take their black off, for a little while, at least?
If my pastor is a known philanderer, brags about forcing himself on multiple women in a violent manner on the regular and has children from three different women, but tells his congregation that the offering is more than ever before and he is against abortion, should I continue to follow his leadership and defend him to anyone that speaks against him based on real biblical principles? What if he wants to marry my daughter? Should I give him my blessing? What about if he mocks people who are physically or mentally challenged or people of color? That’s not a big deal, right? He’s not a bully or racist if he says he’s not, right?
Is the best way to defend him to bring up things our pastor from nearly 20 years ago did wrong? Because I remember when I was a child, deflecting to something one of my siblings did wrong often distracted my parents from what I had done wrong, at least for a minute or two, until they realized how childish my behavior was and returned to the real issue at hand…
If a White Evangelical man and woman bring their sick child into the ER, does the lesbian or transgender nurse have the right to refuse care based on a difference of religious beliefs? Say, the nurse believes that White Evangelical Christianity is a hate group based on recent behavior she’s experienced personally… Should we force her to care for these people just because they’re human beings?!
Since I am a woman, is it okay for me to lie about the atrocious behavior of a white man and when a person of color questions me, can I just claim that he’s a bully because I have a v-jay-jay? Can someone help me publicize an aggressive looking picture of the POC so that I can perpetuate the victim role of a white woman instead of owning the lies I’ve participated in and continue covering up the racist remarks of the real bully? I mean, just because I’ve been placed in a leadership role over the entire country does NOT mean that a black person can question me about lying to the people of the country I represent. I am a fragile white woman and shouldn’t be treated like other leaders who behave with complicity.
During the past year (or so), I’ve experienced a regular feeling of living in the “upside down world.” Things that I thought of as ludicrous and only existing in the past have reared their ugly heads in a very public and “normalized” fashion. I’m beyond thankful for people such as Joy Reid, Kathy Khang, and Cory Booker for courageously calling out the folks who continuously try to take us down bunny trails. I’m thankful that they unapologetically demand justice, equality and sanity reign. Listening to them, and others like them, I find myself, saying, “THANK YOU! Finally, someone is standing up to this lunacy.”
May we all have the courage to stand and speak before the damage is beyond repair.
There are so many things I adore about you, but as nearly three decades have come and gone, I find that I much too often take an abundance of your goodness for granted. Part of my resolution is to be a better wife, less critical of you, so that you can walk more fully in the joyful identity God has for you. As I’ve prayed about how I can best become more of who He calls me to be as your wife, I’ve asked Him to see you through His eyes and not my own critical eyes. I believe He’s been bringing to mind some of the many loving qualities and actions of yours that I’ve overlooked recently. This is just a small sampling of the ways you bless me and others who know you.
It doesn’t go un-noticed that you always clean up the food and dishes when our kiddos are over for dinner or almost anytime we have dinner guests, while I visit and relax.
When you share story after story of the people you bless during your work day or at band gigs, my heart sings. You are such a tenderhearted man and I love your generosity with people who cross your path. I love that you have so many homeless friends in Austin, that you don’t simple give money to, but that you invest in them and know about their lives because you choose to spend time and pour into them. When you tell me any of your many stories of special people who ride your duck tour and “drive” on the water, perhaps for the first and/or only time in their lives, and your eyes brim with tears, my heart just leaps in my chest and I thank God you are my husband.
It means the world to me that when I work my 11 hour day once a week, you have dinner all ready when I walk through the door. Exhaustion and a yummy home-cooked meal are fast friends.
I love how much you love our children. Even though they are all grown and out of the house, you still work so hard everyday because you want to provide things for your babies (and me). Your dedication to all of us makes my heart sing. You are truly the hardest working person I’ve ever known, but you are not a workaholic. You work to live and enjoy life with your family and I’m thankful for the example you are to our children.
One of my favorite things about this more “mature” version of us is that you are happy to stay home with me, watching a movie and cuddling is a treat. When we were younger, you wanted to be on-the-go all of the time, being the extrovert of our union, and I would go along, but it was almost always a stretch for me. I’m thankful that I have fun with you whether we are out on a date or hanging at home. You are my favorite person to spend time with.
Thank you for always telling me that you think I’m beautiful and meaning it. Thank you for encouraging me to discover my calling. Thank you for being so patient with me as I wallow around in the muck trying to leave my grumpy self behind. Thank you for valuing my opinion. Thank you for putting up with me. I know it’s not always easy, but your love has brought me a peace that I had never known. Thank you for reacting to (almost) every meal I make as though I am Martha Stewart. Thank you for cheerfully trying all of my organic, paleo, keto, gluten-free, vegetarian, etc. etc. recipes.
Thank you for loving me.
Yesterday, as we prepared to leave for the truly lovely birthday party my husband planned for me, he asked, “So, are we both 54?” To which I replied, “I am 53. You are 54.”
Alas, today, and for the next 3 months, we are both 54.
For the past 2 years I have been adjusting to the fact that I am in my 50’s. Because of a very traumatic event and then a few more that were almost as traumatic, about 8 years ago, I was in survival mode for the most part of seven years. I found myself growing a smidge bitter that I had mostly missed the better part of a decade getting through and not savoring much of the present.
In the past year and a half, I quit a job that I rocked, but grew to hate because the human element was slowly being taken away from what I always considered my calling, moved out of a rather large home in a small town that was very connected to aforementioned very traumatic event, and moved to my favorite city in the world (thus far). Also, my last residing child moved out, creating an empty nest, a broken/thrilled divided mama’s heart, and throwing my everything into readjustment mode.
I am moving forward in expectation. I am thankful for 54 years of life –
and even the traumatic.
I am thankful for my life.
They aren’t what they used to be. When I was younger, I never really loved that my birthday was so close to Christmas, or that it was during the freezing Michigan month of January. I remember hoping that we’d be back in school after the Christmas break, so that I could celebrate with my friends and then hoping just the opposite as I envisioned being sung to by everyone and being the center of attention. I have fond memories of cherry chip cake with pink frosting on a crystal cake plate that my mother would make for me as a child. As a teen I started requesting banana cream pie and feeling very rebellious in my choice.
Tomorrow I will be 54 years old. This evening my husband has invited quite a few folks out to celebrate my day of birth and I am having the same anxiety as I always have. This is probably the only thing about my birthday that hasn’t changed. Being the center of attention is not really my cup of tea. I don’t mean to say that I don’t feel incredibly loved by people who are willing to make time for me. That is my love language. The flip side of this is that I also secretly (well, not secretly anymore!) dread having almost no one show up and the humiliation of that…
Now, the lovely part of being on this side of 50 is that as my January birthday approaches, I find that it is a great time to reflect on my life, where I’ve been and where I’m headed. I find that I am so much more at peace with myself than I was just a few years ago. I am blessed with a husband who sees me and encourages my growth and expression. We have journeyed through almost 30 years together. We’ve walked through grief, great joy and everything in-between and he’s still my favorite person to spend the day with. My daughter is one of my dearest friends and watching her stepping into who she was made to be is one of my greatest joys. Her younger brothers are also beginning to walk in their true identities and this mama’s heart is singing over them. This, coupled with the strong bond that they share with one another, is a dream come true for me.
I have friends who are willing to walk through the deep stuff alongside me and me with them. That is something I’ve always longed for and will not take for granted now that I’m blessed with it. Honorable women are the rare, good stuff and worth waiting for!
We live in Austin, so winter lasts approximately a month and isn’t nearly as bitter as the ones I experienced in the Mitten. Today is sunny with a high in the 60’s. Moving here has been a major game changer for this girl. I adore my city and the life I am living here!
I have several broken relationships that have been this way for several years. While I am sad about this, I am mostly at peace and confident that my Father will grow all of us through this time. I’m continuing to do the hard work on myself and that’s all I can do. In the meantime, I am well aware of the fact that we are not promised tomorrow, so I will live each day in that mindset. Knowing who I am with all of my wounds and faults, and embracing myself fully. Being confident of my character and my calling, I am as ready as ever to walk through the door to a new year of life.
I suppose that since it’s a brand new year, I should write the proverbial New Year’s Resolution blog post. I’m one of those middle of the road peeps. I see some value in setting a public goal because then we’re accountable to ourselves and others. I also understand thinking that NY resolutions are silly because almost NO ONE follows through, despite wonderful and sincere intentions. I’m kind of a “make the vow to myself quietly’ kind of girl, not saying it out loud until I’ve research this life-changing goal and worked it consistently for a short time, mostly. If I’m afraid I won’t follow through because my flesh can be SO weak, and I really want to in my spirit, then I’ll share one-on-one with someone in my inner circle, being sure to mention how unlikely it is that I will accomplish my task.
I have all of these ideas of ways I want my life to change for the better, like most people do. As I was pondering this recently and throughout the past year, I’ve noticed I feel scattered and a bit overwhelmed, so I’ve broken it down into categories in order to see my goals more clearly and in a less complicated fashion.
I want to have healthy boundaries with some people who have hurt me on the regular over the years. This is tough because I am a 2 (enneagram), a hard 2, and I just want to meet everyone right where they are and love them with all that I am. When I don’t do this I feel like I’m letting God down, even though I know in my head that boundaries are healthy and I’ve spent WAY too much time standing in His way in the name of love. In addition to this, I would love to stop caring about the opinions of people who have misrepresented or misjudged my character. While entering my 50’s has helped dissipate much of this, occasionally, it still gets the best of me and I fantasize about the truth coming to light and having peace with those people. I’m SO ready to be an Elsa and completely “let it go!”
THIS is the tough one for me right now. My husband is such a lovely man. Of course, he has stuff like every human being, but because of our very opposite dispositions, my pessimistic McDowell part has bit-by-bit squelched the optimistic and joyful Honey I fell in love with. I find myself often overcompensating for my trespasses when I should simply ask for forgiveness, owning my junk and doing better because of it. It’s awful how something can be ingrained in you from birth and decades later still wreak havoc in adult relationships. It’s time to do better because I am capable of better, my husband deserves SO much better and my children deserve a better example.
This is the embarrassing one. I want to figure out why I continue to gain weight even though I am eating less food and more healthily than I ever have. I’m exercising regularly and getting enough rest (usually), so it’s discouraging that I’m seemingly getting less healthy day-by-day. I’ve spent an abundance of time and money on the pursuit of physical health, and while I am almost never sick and I am quite healthy, this weight gain, sudden onset of hot flashes, and lack of energy are disheartening. My hope is that I’ll figure out what is wrong with my adrenals and/or my thyroid and I can begin a plan that will bring them back to health – and that I can do this without breaking the bank…
This is a subject that is very near and dear to my Jesus-loving heart. There is little else that brings out my passionate side like racial injustice. However, I’ve got to confess that I am intimidated to step into this full throttle for a number of reasons. I feel like I have little to offer as a privileged white woman. This causes me to be terrified to say or do the wrong thing because of my ignorance or any scrap of prejudice that remains. I don’t want to appear to think I am some kind of savior or anything obnoxious. I want to stand by my brothers and sisters and use my voice so that we can start moving through repentance, then restitution and finally reconciliation. I’m not sure what that looks like, yet. I have an entire bookshelf of every suggestion my BtB group has ever mentioned and then some. I’ve read several of them, but I need to be more intentional. I need to stop taking advantage of my white privilege by doing the inconvenient and hard stuff even though it may seem I don’t have to. I am His daughter, which means I do, so I will.
My Honey and I would love to go away for a real vacation. It has been 16 years since we’ve gone away alone together for more than a night or two – and that was in September of 2001 during the week of 9/11, as well as experiencing a hurricane on Sanibel where we were vacationing, and returning to find out one of our children had gotten into some pretty serious trouble while we were away. We’re dreaming of a full week, all alone, somewhere we have to fly to. If we can’t do it this year, then next year is the goal. There are actually several other financial goals we have, but this is not our strong suit, so we’ll just leave it like this for now.
I’ve been praying about my word for this year. I’ve intentionally avoided words like “love,” “help,” “inspire,” because that’s what I’m naturally drawn to and one or two of those have been my word in past years. Yesterday, the word “Simplify” came to me. This is a good goal for me. It’s one I feel I’ve been working on for many years. It’s one of the things I tried to instill into my own children. I have successfully simplified many areas of my life, but I can see that in my desire to accomplish some of the above goals, I have complicated my life unnecessarily. While I believe it’s wise to read and educate oneself about God, health, finances, relationships, ultimately, I know the first place I need to turn is to Him.
I think this looks like taking each of my areas of growth and choosing ONE simple goal, just one baby step and following through. Breaking it down based on His leading and my strengths will produce a simplicity that will bring blessings into my life and those I serve and love.
In my marriage this looks like confessing to my husband first. The next step is unclear for me. I think we’ll need some kind of accountability, so asking him to join me in that is a definite possibility.
Emotionally, in my relationships I will continue to pray before I put myself out there. I will do my best to check my motives and remember that He is so much better at loving people than I could ever be. When He sends me, I will go, but I am finally ready to stop sending myself out of guilt or my icky savior complex, no matter how uncomfortable it may feel at times.
My Honey and I have been researching the KETO diet and we are going to give it a whirl. A couple of months ago I bought a planner that keeps me on schedule with my magnesium protocol and that has been helping me stay on track and get back on track when I fall off now and then. My hope is that following these plans will jumpstart my adrenals and thyroid so that my body can start taking better care of itself naturally.
My goal is to read 2 books each month about racial reconciliation. I have started to collect children’s book by authors of color about people of color for the grandchildren I hope to have someday. I am going to purchase 1 book every 2 months and my hope is that I will have a library that will help another generation of my family to love and appreciate all of God’s people. I have other goals, but in the name of simplifying and succeeding, I am going to make this the first step. I am going to bathe each book in prayer and ask Him to show me what steps I take next.
Financially… Yep, not my strong suit. I’ll have to get back with you about this one.
Spiritually, I am going to keep spending time with Jesus. His Word speaks to me in life-changing ways and quiet time with Him is the best way for me to stay centered. I made a commitment to read my Bible daily a few months ago (again) and it’s going well. Sometimes I find myself checking the box, but more often I am slowing down and taking His Word in. I have decided to work through the 12 steps again, joining a group at my church that will keep me accountable and help me grow where He shows me I need to this time around. I bought myself a Christmas present from Cageless Birds that was a stretch for me. Cultivate is a series of 4 volumes that are full of writing prompts, contemplative thoughts, and encouragement for artists of all kinds – because we are ALL artists in one way or another. I bought all 4 of them and gave one to each our 3 youngest and gave myself volume 4, “Creativity Unlocked.” I’m intimidated and excited to see how God works through the pages to help me walk more fully in the identity He has for me.
So, I started this post a few days ago and then as I prayed and journaled I was able to simplify my proposed journey for this next year. I feel centered and hopeful. I’m also seasoned enough to be okay if the end doesn’t look exactly like I’m imagining at the beginning. New Year’s Resolutions are meant to help us move forward in hope, not to discourage us because we aren’t perfect. I pray you find your rhythm in this new year. I pray you find grace for yourself and others. I pray you find yourself walking in your full identity more and more as the days unfold. It’s okay to straight up fail or stumble to any degree, and it’s okay to get up and start again in February or July or December. It’s not okay to let perceived failure defeat you for too long. You’re worth a lot of effort and persistence is noble. Quitting, not so much.
Happy New Year!
Looking at our decorated Christmas tree this evening after a week of having old wounds reopened, I feel a kinship.
Hanging beautiful ornaments on the outside amidst glowing lights doesn’t make the tree truly valuable or any more loved. It is still dying and finally, fully aware that it is not what is beautiful. It’s pine needles, pointy, are not desirable to have any contact with.
Moving through the pain, asking my Father what lessons He has for me, and trying to believe that I am valuable doesn’t negate the lack of value to so many. In this moment of clarity, I am trying to remember what my purpose is. When the “cons” list is much longer that the “pros” list, I am undone.
My Father loves me. He created me and has a beautiful purpose for my journey. Satan lies in order to destroy. I know all of this, but in this valley, it’s hard to believe it. So, I wait and invite Him into my pain. I pray that He will lead me through and guide me to His truth because mine is absent of hope.
Our proverbial empty nest has been so for a little over a month now. It has definitely been an adjustment.
There are some awful things about this chapter of our lives and some things that are not awful at all, some good and some great.
I love cleaning a room and knowing that it will stay that way for a pretty long while. I can’t even remember that last time any room in our home stayed picked up and clean for more than a day… y’all it’s been decades.
On that note, I only do 3 – 4 loads of laundry each week, and some of those are only because I’ve been going through and cleaning each room, so I may have rugs, etc. that are not typically weekly laundry. It wasn’t long ago I was doing 10 loads a week, so this is a major for this girl!
I spend SO much less on groceries for the two of us. Except I spend more because I know that Aaron will stop by daily to eat at least one meal, Caleb and Hannah a couple of times a week and then I have to pick up a few things for each of them to get through the week without starving or eating non-organic foods… or chemical laden cleaning supplies… or…
I have peace and quiet. I am able to read more, write more, spend more quiet time with Jesus. We can watch whatever we want to watch, play whatever music we choose, eat the dinner we pick… My Honey and I, not Jesus. Although, I like to think He influences our choices.
When they were younger, Bob would take the kids out for a day or evening so that I could just enjoy the quiet. It was rare for me to be without my babies, so I would just relish those hours and feel so rejuvenated by the time they all busted through the front door.
Last week my Honey worked 3 nights and this week 4 in a row, after working his full time day job. I’m not relishing my time alone so much anymore. I can only rejuvenate so much, and then you can call me lonely. It probably sounds silly to some, but learning to be alone, again, is a skill I’m struggling with a bit now that I have so much time with just me.
I have room in my refrigerator. Also, not an occurrence in our home for decades. I tend to find my security in food – “As long as my children have food to eat, everything is okay,” so it’s still pretty full, but it’s not the norm of shutting the door before anything squeezes out and breaks all over the floor! My pantry also has room – because I had time to reorganize it and I gave approximately 1/2 of it to my children a couple of weeks ago. Sometimes I just go into my kitchen so that I can look at my organized pantry and refrigerator. It makes me happy.
You should maybe be worried at this point.
I miss my kiddos something fierce. I probs call them too much… maybe not probs. I’m filling the void by making my Honey breakfast, lunch and dinner almost everyday. He’s LOVING it! This morning he told me that his love language is good food…
I’m rediscovering myself and it’s a little uncomfortable, but it’s good, too.
It’s such a weird concept to be independent as a young adult and then meet and fall madly in-love with a man and become one with him in marriage. Then came the babies and the decades of pouring yourself into them, losing yourself a little even though you said you wouldn’t…
and now you are finally able to date your incredible husband again (without paying a babysitter, or being too exhausted to enjoy yourself or feeling guilty for spending money or leaving your babies behind…), and you can spend actual big chunks of time doing the things you love again. It should be pure joy, and, yet, it feels so unfamiliar and even a little scary. But I’m finding moments of joy in all of it and I can see where this will become a truly lovely norm in time.
In the meantime, it’s a little uncomfortable and that’s okay.
I’ve been raising babies for 31-plus years. Many of those years there were 4 or 5 of them under our roof. They were my life’s work. I poured myself into motherhood. It was my calling, my ministry, my redemption. It was also where I made the most mistakes and how God uncovered my deepest flaws. Nothing grew me more than being a mama…
Growing up, I remember some of the vows I made to myself, even as a young girl. I vowed I would raise my sons to be sensitive and communicative, not afraid of deep emotion in themselves or others. I vowed I would raise my daughters to be strong and confident, not needing a man’s attention or approval to feel good about themselves. I vowed that my children would never let someone feel left out of anything as I always did being raised as the only girl in a family of 5 children. And finally, as an adult, I vowed that I would show my children the unconditional love that I yearned for all of my life and that I would do all I could to nurture them just as God made them to be, not trying to make them fit into some proverbial box that the world said was “normal” or “better.”
My children are all incredibly inclusive and it makes my mama’s heart swell with love and pride when I see how much they all make the effort to ensure everyone feels a part of things. My sons are sweeties, communicating their hearts and listening to others sincerely. My daughter is probably the strongest woman I know. She is more comfortable in her skin at 24 than most women are at 54. For the most part, her approval comes from Her Father and she has the kind of healthy boundaries I only dreamed of at her age.
Truly, they have grown up and into even better human beings than I could’ve imagined, both because of, and mostly, in spite of, me being their mama.
I remember when my oldest was born and I was neurotic about anything hurting him in any way. I was just sure he was too wonderful a blessing for me to deserve and as soon as someone realized their mistake, he would be taken from me. When my 2-year old stepson came into my life I remember doing all I could to be sure he felt like our home was just as much his home and that he belonged. The birth of our only daughter four years later brought this confident peace that our family was complete. Her big brothers adored her and we had a little girl to add to our precious family of boys. It wasn’t my first time at the rodeo and I was much more confident in my role as a mama. Life was good. When she was just 9 months old we found out that we were pregnant and then, a few weeks later, we discovered the reason I was so, SO sick was that “there were two buns” in my oven, as our OBGYN so politely stated during our initial ultrasound. It was a drama-filled pregnancy, financially, physically and emotionally. After a pretty scary emergency c-section delivery more than 6 weeks before our due date, having 3 babies under 18 months, two of which were premature, was a special kind of crazy. Sometimes I can’t believe we survived those first two years.
Truth is, I’d go back and do it all over again, if given the chance. I loved raising my children. Those years were the best years of my life in so many ways. I homeschooled them for many reasons, but one of them was because time goes so quickly and I wanted as many moments as I could get with them before it was time for them to leave. It’s funny because I committed to savoring every moment with them and it still feels like it went TOO fast and it wasn’t enough. Don’t get me wrong. My children often drove me completely insane and I would think, “It’s okay. They’ll leave soon and then you’ll wish you had this mess to clean up.” Almost instantly my sanity would return and I’d realize that just because I’ll miss them doesn’t mean I should be thankful for their messes! Right?!
As mad as the early years were when all 5 of our kiddos were young and living at home (when the older 2 weren’t with other bio-parents), it was a simple that I didn’t appreciate enough until it was gone and replaced by the teen years. You haven’t really lived until you go through that time with 2 kids from previous marriages at the same time and then again with 3 full time offspring. Seriously, surviving that with your mind mostly intact, is award-worthy.
And still, I would do it all again. Differently, better, hopefully, but truly anyway I could get it. I’d do it all again.
But, I won’t because I can’t, and that’s okay. Mostly…
moreso in a month, maybe.
Because last week our daughter moved out of our house and she was the only one left in my nest. After she walked out the front door with her last big load, our love and prayers poured all over her, I watched a movie with my Honey and went to bed. The next morning my Honey went to the gym with our son and I piddled around the house, rearranging the pantry and cleaning out the refrigerator. It was kind of glorious. Then I walked into our bedroom, sat on our bed, choked out the words, “My nest is empty” and sobbed, not boo-hoo cried, but full body-sobbed for 20 minutes, hard.
The most important work of my life has ended. It’s okay, even healthy, for me to mourn that. She tried to tell me that it wasn’t the most important thing I had ever done, but that’s because she isn’t a mama and she thinks that I’m hopeless if the most important thing is over. She said that because she doesn’t want to feel responsibility for my sadness – and she shouldn’t. She should know that I know that no matter what God brings into my journey, the thing I’ve completely poured myself into, grown the most doing, humbled myself the most before and feel that I was born to do and called to was being their mama. This new season is for her to celebrate and simply make space for me to process and grow.
Being their mama is not all that I am and my life is certainly not over because I am no longer raising my precious children, but it was def the meat of my life-work sandwich. And this is my mourning season for all that those years brought me, that I am only now able to slow down enough to reflect on with the self-forgiveness, wisdom and grace that I simply didn’t have when we were all living it.
I loved my children well. I wrestled with my control issues for years in order for them to grow into who God made them to be. We all made mistakes, but not one of them was because we lacked love for one another. We were and remain human beings who make mistakes and need God’s grace, as well as one another’s. As I watch my 3 youngest begin to take flight, I feel a sense of joy and pride that comes with a job well-done. I have a confidence that they are all striving to be in God’s will and that is enough for this mama. I don’t expect their lives to be without strife, but I am sure of His plan for their lives being more than I could ever hope for because they have chosen to follow Him with abandon. I have this hope for my life as well.
I quit my teaching job last year for more reasons than you have time to read about. I then nannied for several families for a little more than a year. It has been hard and wonderful. I’ve done several other jobs in the meantime, but my husband asked me to stop working for a bit and figure out where my next step should be. He wants me to spend time writing because he knows this is how I best find my center. Even my daily prayer time is journaling a letter to Jesus, rarely do I pray aloud. My sweet husband has watched me go through a bit of a mid-life crisis and feel like I have been so busy trying to take care of everyone and everything that I’m not slowing down to hear My Father calling. So, naturally, I’ve spent the past couple of weeks of semi-unemployment cleaning the house, rearranging everything just so and NOT writing nor slowing down.
This is Day One of unemployment and I’m working on this blog I started a week or so ago.
Here’s the great stuff… My life’s work is pretty much amazing. My babies couldn’t really “wow” me more than they do.
My husband and I started this great journey of ours with a 2 and 3 year old in-tow, so, in 28 years, we’ve never just been “Us” without little ones or bigger ones to consider. I have looked forward to this time of just the two of us for more years than I can remember. There is something magical about those all alone times you have as a couple and except for an occasional weekend in the beginning, we’ve not had much opportunity to enjoy being just a couple. We’ve worked really hard through the years to stay connected so that when this time came we wouldn’t be lost, we wouldn’t be unable to find “us” again, but here we are and there is a little bit of relearning who we are, who we’ve become and what we want to do with all of that. Honestly, he is one of my favorite people in the world. He is funny, protective, and works harder than any man I’ve ever known. He’s a ESFP, a hard 7 on the enneagram, and his love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch. He could not be more the opposite of me and I could NOT be more thankful for that. He just seems to get more handsome as he gets older and that’s impressive and wonderful and also, just a bit irritating, as I do not suffer from the same condition! He’s much easier to get along with than his younger self and I find myself both loving and liking him more and more as we grow in years together. God willing, we are still young enough to enjoy each other for many years. It’s blowing my mind that we are finally here!
Our 3 youngest come to see us because they want to spend time with us now, not because they have no choice. Well, they also come for food and gas money, but usually they stay and actually have conversations with their dad and me. This is the stuff. When your children grow up and you can see the best parts of you and your husband in them and you truly enjoy their company. My children challenge me in my walk with God, in my relationships with others, in my personality junk that gets in the way of my being who He calls me to be. Honestly, it’s humbling in the best way and so rewarding. I just stand in awe of the humans they’ve become.
I’ve found friends (finally) who are real and that is a gift for a girl who searched high and low for far too long only to come up empty on too many occasions. It’s also a blessing to not have to have your kiddos tangled up in your friendships because, let’s face it, we all think our kids are the “good” ones and while your babies are happily making up after a tussle with each other, we are usually still harboring that mama-bear resentment that is waiting to spring at any wrong move from the other side. I am enjoying friendships founded on 2 women with their own personalities and not founded on our children becoming friends. After homeschooling and working full-time for so many years, I am beside myself that I have the time to go to lunch with friends that I’ve made on my own, in a city that I love.
I have time with My Father like I haven’t had ever before. I’m not having to wake up at 4:30 a.m. before my children stir, I’m not having to fit Him in when I can because my job sucks the life out of me, I’m not forced to rush through my time with Him like so many times in the past when I had so much on my plate. I’m thankful for these extended periods of time so that I can be still and listen for His voice. I’m thankful that I don’t feel the need to sign up for everything so that I can feel like people like me or I’m earning my keep, instead, I can wisely wait on Him to call me and serve where I’m called to serve when I’m called to serve and be comfortable in not being busy.
So, my nest is empty and this new way of living for this hard 2 on the enneagram is anything but comfortable right now. I love my children with my whole heart, but I am more than a mama and a wife. I am a woman who has reveled in and hidden behind her husband’s and children’s wants and needs for 31+ years. All at once, I am terrified of what the future holds, while also waiting with hopeful expectancy for His direction. There’s no place to hide and no time to waste anymore.
None of my friends of color are surprised by what’s happening in Charlottesville. By contrast, almost all of my white friends are shocked that it’s 2017 and this is happening in our country. The land of the free, the home of the brave…
I don’t believe that most of White America agrees with the alt-white, or the Nazi demonstrators carrying weapons and/or attacking the counter-protesters. I do, however, believe that most of White America would prefer to not be involved. They don’t hesitate to accuse their white brothers and sisters of being divisive or stirring the pot when we write about racism or talk about it. The problem is that there’s no sitting this one out. There is no “not getting involved” because it’s happening all over and the hatred is growing. It’s palpable. We all must take a stand for what we believe to be right and true in our heart of hearts. Silence doesn’t only imply consent… It is consent. The irony is, that if more silent people would’ve spoken up long ago, we may not be all wondering what happened and where all of these haters came from. Because, the truth is, they’ve always been here, they are simply feeling more comfortable to be openly hateful racists because the donald normalized it during his campaign and we, snowflakes, are still in shock that there are so many truly hateful people sitting next to us in our church pews, working beside us and living in the house down the street from us.
Polo shirts, baseball caps, khakis, screaming, “Blood and soil. You’re not going to take this away from us!” while carrying tiki torches into the night.
For you are not a God who is pleased with wickedness; with you, evil people are not welcome. Psalm 5:4
Recently, I had an old school friend share a rather offensive post on facebook attempting to shame anyone who says or does anything negative about the donald or his family:
GONNA VENT HERE. I have lived through Presidents Carter, Reagan, George H. W. Bush, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush and Obama. In my lifetime have I never seen or heard of a President being scrutinized over every word he speaks, humiliated by the public to the point of wanting to hurt someone, slander, ridicule, insulted, lied to, threatened to murder him, threatened to rape our Beautiful First Lady, and have his children also insulted and humiliated.
I am truly ashamed of the people of this country. I am ashamed of the ruthless, hating, cruel, Trump haters who have no morals, and news reporters who feel they have the right to purposely lie and do the things they are doing. Every other President after they were elected and took the oath of office were left alone, they weren’t on the news 24/7 being dissected by every word out of their mouth, ALWAYS BEING PRESSURED to do this or that and never being given the support to do the important work that needs to be done. ENOUGH is ENOUGH is ENOUGH, LEAVE THE MAN ALONE AND LET HIM DO HIS JOB FOR GOD’S SAKE!
If you agree, copy and paste this to your timeline and put your name under the last name:
My response was: “For real?” because I honestly was surprised that this person would post this. I’m shocked ANYONE would post this that has been living in this country or any country with newspapers or television, to be perfectly honest. I mean, this is America, Land of the Free, Home of the Brave? We aren’t living in a dictatorship, correct? Mostly people agreed or “liked” my comment. A few, however, tried to throw the sorry white evangelical guilt trip on me by commenting things such as:
“Let’s concentrate on being Christian, not the need to argue over things we cannot control. Passion is better spent in our children, families and community….”
“so sad you cannot express your opinion without being taken to task – but I guess that is what the world has come to”
SOOOOOO, I’m going to address these two comments, first.
Since when does being a Christian mean not being involved in social injustice? When in the world did Americans begin thinking that speaking out and being involved in governmental decisions was ineffective and not Christian?… – These same people were defs not silent when Obama was in office! Where were they spending their passion then? I’m trying to spend my passion where God tells me to, so there’s that… Also, I call white privilege, because it must be nice to be able to focus our passion on simpler things when we don’t have to deal with racism on a daily basis.
“Rescue the poor and the needy, delivering them from the power of the wicked.” Psalm 82:4
“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.” Proverbs 31:8-9
IMHO, if you post something to your facebook page that is political, you should probs expect that there will be others just as vocal responding, especially if it’s a shame post defending the least popular POTUS in the history of ever. Probs…
Okay, now I feel a need to go through that obnoxious post (in red) that is apparently circulating through facebook.
Paragraph 1: GONNA VENT HERE. I have lived through Presidents Carter, Reagan, George H. W. Bush, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush and Obama. In my lifetime have I never seen or heard of a President being scrutinized over every word he speaks, humiliated by the public to the point of wanting to hurt someone, slander, ridicule, insulted, lied to, threatened to murder him, threatened to rape our Beautiful First Lady, and have his children also insulted and humiliated.
I, too, have lived through the terms of these Presidents. I’ve seen every single one of them bashed, scrutinized, ridiculed, teased, etc. over every aspect of their lives. Carter was not tough enough, Reagan’s wife ran the show, George H. W.’s wife was a heartless witch, Clinton was a skirt chaser, George W.’s daughters were party animals with no respect, Obama was just pure evil (THIS was the POTUS MOST scrutinized and lied about, imho, and the man leading much of this was the donald, btw), mostly because he is black and not a white evangelical. And when it comes to threats, in October of 2014, the Washington Post reported that “Since Obama took office, at least 65 people have been indicted on charges of threatening to harm him,” as well as in “2011 a White House shooting occurred on November 11, 2011, when Oscar Ramiro Ortega-Hernandez, an unemployed 21-year-old man, fired a semi-automatic rifle at the White House.” Reagan was shot in 1981. George H.W. Bush was not long in office when 16 men plotted to kill him with a car bomb. Osama bin Laden attempted to kill Clinton with a bomb in 1996. Robert Pickett, an accountant from Evanston, Ind., shot at the White House when President George W. Bush was inside. I have numerous memories of various past Presidents’ children and wives being ridiculed for being unattractive, bossy, manly, disrespectful, etc.
Here is a link that shows all of our former POTUSes who have been shot at during their terms: http://timelines.latimes.com/us-presidential-assassinations-and-attempts/ I think it will shock you how common this is.
Paragraph 2: I am truly ashamed of the people of this country. I am ashamed of the ruthless, hating, cruel, Trump haters who have no morals, and news reporters who feel they have the right to purposely lie and do the things they are doing. Every other President after they were elected and took the oath of office were left alone, they weren’t on the news 24/7 being dissected by every word out of their mouth, ALWAYS BEING PRESSURED to do this or that and never being given the support to do the important work that needs to be done. ENOUGH is ENOUGH is ENOUGH, LEAVE THE MAN ALONE AND LET HIM DO HIS JOB FOR GOD’S SAKE!
I am ashamed of the people who support this narcissistic man who has been married 3 times, speaks of his daughter incestuously, whose wife is of questionable character, imho, who we all saw on tape talking about “grabbing pu****” and has made his racism abundantly clear as of late, in case anyone was wondering. There’s also Russia, the KKK, & White Alt affiliation, the outrageous number of firings and terrible hirings, as well as his numerous vacations on our dollar, and the list goes on, but there isn’t enough time for all of that now. I’m pretty sure the guy with no morals is the guy in our White House.
New reporters purposely lying?! Seriously, the donald is world famous for lying. Our country is fast becoming a joke to the rest of the world because of his administrations regular lies, embarrassing tweets, and chaotic behavior coming from the White House since he took office.
Again, NO POTUS has ever been left in peace to do their job. This is America. We are allowed to speak our minds. Our high governing officials are mostly elected, so we do have a say and we usually step up to that opportunity because we tend to remember and appreciate that some other places in this world are not allowed such privilege. IMHO, the donald would love for us to be gagged while he and his alt-right cronies greedily take control of this country under the guise of making it great, again. His great again was when the rich, white folks had all of the power. Back then it was only great for rich, white men. He plays off the fear and ignorant of many, playing the bully on the playground and too many fearful, and ignorant people think they’re on the right team, instead of seeing that they are just being used by the bully and all of his rich, white friends to make America great for themselves, again.
ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. It’s time for him to finally do some work for our entire country without a personal agenda that hurts the disenfranchised and moves our nation to a place of normalized fascism, where he justifies controlling the press because he’s convinced uninformed and paranoid people that the media is dishonest, where women are second class citizens, where there are no checks and balances.
If the events in Charlottesville don’t finally open your eyes, then I guess they probably won’t be opened. I’m fearful for what this country will endure as long as he is the President. Now, this is where some will tell me that if I am a good Christian, I won’t be afraid. I wonder if people said this during the Holocaust. I’m appalled that so many have supported this man because he claimed to be a Christ-follower and be against abortion because he will do nothing about the abortion laws and he obviously doesn’t believe all lives matter from womb to tomb, based on his violence-inciting language during his campaign and his term thus far. Where is the fruit of his walk with Our Father? Where is the love we should all know him by?
It isn’t un-Christlike to call out hatred or lack of fruit. It’s wise. It isn’t okay to not pray for the President and his administration. It’s expected. I pray for him. I pray for his administration. I do not hate any of them. I stand against the evil that has been revealed. I am called to stand for the disenfranchised. I am called to love, but I am not called to be silent. He calls us to speak for people with no voice and this doesn’t mean only unborn babies.
I would challenge you to visit a BLM meeting. You will find, as I have, a group of human beings who are tired of being oppressed and simply want to be treated as if their lives matter AS MUCH AS everyone else’s lives. They have all different personalities, just like any group of people.
I would challenge you to get to know SEVERAL people of color, and to NOT tell anyone you aren’t prejudiced because you have a couple of friends of color. It’s hard. I was terrified to say the wrong thing and be found out as the privileged white girl I have always been. I’ve been married to a Hispanic man for nearly 30 years and I have bi-racial children with him. My daughter-in-love is black. I still struggle with my deeply ingrained prejudices at times. This is a journey, a long journey. I haven’t arrived, nor can I see the station, and that’s okay. I am always working toward more understanding. I am learning to listen more to my brothers and sisters of color and speak more to my white siblings. He calls on us to speak for those who are oppressed and so I must. We all must. We mustn’t sit in our homes and close our eyes and hearts to what is happening in America to fellow Americans. We must stand beside them and use our voices to speak for justice. We must face our prejudices, go to Our Father in repentance, and begin the journey toward reconciliation.
Things are not like they’ve ever been in this country during my lifetime. No matter what happens, I am a child of God. One day I want to stand before Him knowing that when He called me to stand with His other children, regardless of the consequences, I stood with His love in my heart and spoke the words He led me to speak. It would be easier to sit in my lovely little house and enjoy my lovely little life, but He calls me into discomfort in this passion He has placed in my heart.
We are all His passion and He gave Himself over to indescribable discomfort for all of us. Jesus loves us this I know and there are NO exceptions…
This brings SO many thoughts and feelings to my mind.
For a long time now, my youngest sons – twins, Caleb and Aaron – and I have been talking about getting coordinating tattoos. We discussed getting matching tatts, but decided it would be more meaningful to each spend some time praying about what our own personal version of that would look like. Ironically, Caleb was the first to decide – this is almost never the case. He is definitely my child. Almost every time we eat out, the rest of the group is waiting for Caleb and me to choose from the menu. We are just not quick to make decisions when faced with more than a few choices. When you add the permanency of a tattoo to the equation, I am just about dead in my tracks. Making a decision about the placement, size and design of a tattoo on my body simply overwhelms me. So, a couple of weeks ago, when Caleb said, “Let’s go get our tattoos SOON,” I was overwhelmed with all of the decisions this was demanding from me. I did some research and began putting together what I wanted mine to look like. Caleb and Aaron decided that they wanted “timshel” in Hebrew. Caleb wanted his on his knuckles and Aaron wanted a larger font of the same on the side of his forearm. I have recently discovered I have a love for trees, and I’ve always known I have a passion for words, so I decided to combine the two and to my delight, I remembered that several of the original book covers had a tree on them. Caleb’s color has always been blue and Aaron’s green, which is why I have the colored hearts/leaves on my tree.
At this point you may be wondering what in the heck “timshel” even means, and moreso, why in the world would we all want permanent tattoos declaring this?!
I’d love to share the story with you because it is one of the ribbons in my life that I can trace back to my teen years in Byron, Michigan, where a teacher took the time to get to know me and recommended a novel that would have a great effect on my entire life. Andrea Broaddus was not everyone’s favorite teacher. She had a big personality and she called it like she saw it. She often called me out, but because I knew she was speaking truth and wanted the best for me, I did my best, as a teenage girl with my own big personality, to take in her advice and make healthy changes. I had just finished Sinclair Lewis’ Babbit and whined about how boring I thought it was and was just starting (and being a bit traumatized by) Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle when Mrs. B. suggested I read John Steinbeck’s East of Eden. She told me that there were many references to biblical characters and the story of Cain and Abel, which only dissuaded me from reading it. I had very little biblical knowledge at that point in my life and was in no way considering becoming familiar with the Bible anytime soon. But, as I said, I trusted her to see things in me and for me, so the next novel I read that year was East of Eden.
I was a bit of a drama queen back then. I typically liked to play the victim and give up when it concerned me. I would willingly fight for the people I loved, but my knee-jerk for myself was to make excuses and give up, often blaming others so that I didn’t have to admit I quit when things got too challenging. I was more a Cain than an Abel… or so I thought.
I was completely enamored with this novel. I couldn’t put it down and then I wept big mournful tears when I finished it. I prayed I would have a college professor who would assign it, just so I could read it again and discuss it with more people.
It never happened…
In my early-20’s I bought a copy and read it for the third time. I also located a copy of the original movie version with James Dean, as well as the modern version with Jane Seymour. After initiating my husband, I told him I would like to name our son, if we ever had one, Caleb Aaron. He agreed.
A few years later, I was pregnant and we agreed that if this baby was a boy, we would name him Caleb Aaron. And then Hannah Elizabeth was born, much to our absolute delight! We each had sons from our first marriages and now we had a daughter. We felt like our family was complete. We scheduled the vasectomy when Hannah was just 2 months old and a week later my dear friend lost her 4 month old baby girl on the night of her husband’s vasectomy from a botched prescription. The baby passed away in the daddy’s arms. I was a hormonal wreck after having Hannah, so I immediately canceled my husband’s appointment. In my emotional state, I was sure something awful would happen to our family if we followed through.
A few short months later, I began to feel awful – as if my previous morning sickness from my other pregnancies all returned in triplicate, and after doing 2 home tests that showed a pink line faster than ever before, I confirmed what I was afraid to believe because I had recently started teaching at my oldest son’s school – where I taught East of Eden, btw – and things seemed just lovely just as they were. I had been baptized while I was pregnant with Hannah and I decided to pray for patience, much to my believing friends’ dismay. They advised me to pray for wisdom instead, but it was too late… I soon found out that I had “two buns in the oven,” as my OBGYN told us at our first appointment where she had a feeling and did an immediate ultrasound.
My pregnancy was fraught with trauma. My dear grandma passed away in October just after she asked me which twin I was going to give her. She meant this as a tease because she had all girls and she knew I was overwhelmed with having 2 older boys, a one-year-old and twin boys on the way, but I was sure that God was preparing me to lose one of my babies. A week after her passing, my OBGYN discovered I had complete placenta previa and I was placed on home bedrest for a little over a month before I began to hemorrhage late one night and had to go to the hospital for the remainder of my pregnancy. I was in that same room for 3 months, solid. I was not even allowed to be wheeled down the hallway or stand at my window. It was terrible because I felt fine. It was also the most wonderful time in my life because I had SO much alone time with Jesus. I was so confident of His leading in every step of that journey. When I began hemorrhaging and they told me they were going to do an emergency c-section that morning, I knew He had us in His hands. I truly believed I may lose one of my babies, and believed it would be Caleb, but I trusted Him completely and was as prepared as any mama could be to walk through this time to bring Him glory. I don’t think I’ve ever had that much faith since that morning…
As they rushed me down the hospital hallways, the people on all three of our teams (Caleb, Aaron and I each had a team of medical staff for the delivery) introduced themselves to me. As we talked, we began to realize that they were all connected to me in one way or another. Some of them were aunts or uncles of students of mine, some were related to people we went to church with, or knew other family members of ours, and all of them it seemed, were Jesus-followers. So, when we arrived in the delivery room, there were prayers going up all over the place for my babies. Bob was sent to get washed up and change into his scrubs just after they gave me that horrible shot in my back (UGH!). I laid back and remember feeling incredibly dizzy. I was bleeding uncontrollably and for just a minute, they lost me. When I came to, I had NO idea what was happening. My husband wasn’t in the room yet because they had kept him out during my little crash. I looked around and said, “I feel kind of awful. Can you let my husband in here? I just know I’d feel so much better if he was with me.”
Everyone chuckled. We were both still clueless. Then they let my Honey come in the room and I immediately felt better. He gave me a play-by-play, minus the blood and gore, of what was happening with our babies and my body. Both of our sweeties were struggling some and had to be incubated immediately. Aaron was biting at the umbilical cord and Caleb was struggling to thrive. After they took them down, my big, strong husband passed out cold into a chair I yelled for them to bring when I saw the look on his face. That’s when the remaining staff told me how I had flat-lined for a minute because I had lost so much blood.
Disclaimer: I admit I was a bit disappointed that I didn’t have an incredible near-death experience with Jesus talking directly to me. But I’m alive, so I’m good!
They wheeled me down to my room and would not allow me to see my babies until I could walk on my own. Therefore they found me on my cold hospital floor 3 times before my husband insisted on a wheelchair to take me down the next morning. They were the cutest little frog/chickens you’ve ever seen! Caleb’s incubator had a little card on it that said, “I’m the oldest” and Aaron’s said, “I’m the biggest.”
We spent the next 8 days gavage feeding them my breast milk and trying to get Caleb to thrive. Bob and I would sing, “Jesus Loves (Me) You” over and over in order to keep them awake to eat the 1-2 ounces they desperately needed to survive. Aaron seemed much more healthy until they came to tell us that we could take Caleb home, but Aaron had a brain-bleed that they had to keep a constant eye on. I remember running my thermometer under hot water to fake a temp so that they would let us all stay there together. It melted and broke open. So, I had to go home on the coldest day of that year with my teeny baby and leave the other one at the hospital. It was torture…
The following day they told us we could bring Aaron home. They said that since we had so much experience, he could go home for the weekend, but we had to bring him back on Monday to recheck and maybe be readmitted. Our church family prayed over him and on Monday his bleed was gone. The doctor did the test twice because he couldn’t believe his eyes.
One of my favorite memories of that time happened the day after we brought Aaron home. Hannah looked at me with her hands up on each side and said, “Where’s the more babies, Mommy?” She thought we were just going to bring a new one home every night, I guess!
We decided to name the boys, Caleb Robert and Aaron Patrick. I was teased for naming them symbolic names for Cain and Abel many times, but I named them because timshel, thou mayest. Caleb means faithful, devotion, whole-hearted, bold, brave and Aaron means lofty, exalted one, high mountain. Caleb was one of only two people over the age of 20 to make it into the Promise Land. Aaron was Moses’ brother, the first of the high-priests of the Israelites.
What I love about Steinbeck is that he doesn’t leave his characters one-dimensional or simply good or bad. He shows us how God made us all with every possibility, if only we step into our freewill. We don’t have to be victims. We aren’t good guys or bad guys until we use our “timshel” to choose what to do and who we will be. When I was embarking on adulthood, East of Eden was the beginning of my journey out of self-sabotage and it helped me parent just a bit better than I would’ve without it.
When my children were teenagers, I gave them each a copy of this novel. I warned them that much of the story was harsh and even lewd, at times. They’ve known since always that the twins’ names came from my love for this story and the effect it had on my life. I never discussed the content of the story with them until their late teens or even recently because I wanted them to be who God made them and not be influenced by the characters in this novel. The interesting and often disturbing thing has been how similar our Caleb and Aaron have been during various seasons of their lives to their character counterparts. Sometimes this was so unnerving that I’d read it all over again so that the end of the story would comfort me and remind me how to encourage my children to develop all the facets of their personalities. The beauty in all of it is that through this powerful work and the influence of God’s unconditional love throughout their lives, my little miracles have grown into confident, loving and Jesus-following men who make my heart sing (most of the time). Of course they have struggles, as we all do. I’m not claiming perfection, in any way, but they’ve embraced their freewill. They are stepping into their own timshel and I am at peace knowing that because they are on this journey with Our Father, they will do amazing things in His name and for His glory. I’ve always known He miraculously allowed me to raise them, and didn’t take them almost 23 years ago, because He has a great plan for them and my joy comes from watching them walk in His will.
SO… it was time. We’ve been talking about getting “timshel” tatts for years, but I think we’re all finally embracing His unconditional love and trusting that we can walk in the freewill He’s graced us all with and take responsibility for our choices and our lives.
I’m 53. I still am not sure of what my real purpose is. When I think of my life ending, I am quite sure I’ve mostly wasted my time here.
I raised 4 and a half children and I thought that was my calling. I always believed I did a pretty great job of it as far as human mamas go, and that all I poured into our precious children over their growing up years would blossom into deep and abiding relationships with my adult children, who were all secure and successful in their lives.
Not so much…
I have been a mama since I was 22 years old. I gave it everything I had and figured I would do something with my talent and passion once my babies grew up and had their own lives. It became pretty easy to get behind my husband’s and children’s dreams and over a few decades, it got more and more difficult to remember what my dreams were. I also don’t mind admitting that being a cheerleader for my family wasn’t nearly as risky as going after my own dreams and perhaps failing miserably. Cheerleading is not only safe, it is lovely and encouraging, so I was just the good mama.
As I stand here, feeling as if it’s time to take a leap of faith and finally figure out what I’m here for, I’m overwhelmed with the pressure of this being my last hurrah. If I don’t get it right this time, then that’s pretty much it.
I feel as if I’m old and I don’t really have much to offer. I’m NOT saying this so others will tell me lovely things about my worth. This is the reality of my life. I don’t have many years left. At least 2/3 of my life has been lived. At Least. I’ve spent most of my life raising children. I’m an excellent teacher. It comes naturally to me, but I have absolutely no desire to ever work in a school system again. I don’t want to waste anymore time doing things that He’s not calling me to. I especially don’t want to work at a job because it pays a lot of money when I’m terribly unhappy and don’t feel called to work there. That’s a hard one for me.
I live in fear of this scenario:
I quit my job that pays quite well because I believe He has called me to step out in faith and over the following weeks, several things go wrong – car breaks down, one of the kids can’t make rent, my husband loses his job or gets sick and can’t work – and I realize my decision was based on my own selfishness and now my family is paying for my terrible mistake.
Do you feel me?… Irish guilt. It’s the worst…
Unfortunately, it may just be that satan knows exactly where I live. He knows that planting guilty thoughts and fear will keep me just where I’m at. It’s worked SO well for TOO long.
And while all of that is probably 100% spot on, still my fear of failure and hurting others is paralyzing.
My hope is that my dread of living my life with so little to show will overshadow the other fears and I will finally have the courage to leap into the unknown with nothing but faith and hope. I pray that when I fall on my face I remember to extend as much grace to myself as I have to my husband and children throughout the years. I want to be able to laugh at my mistakes, and then pick myself up, getting right back on the path He intended me to be on.
It’s funny to me that our 3 youngest children all have “faith” as their most dominate spiritual gift. I’ve always coveted people that have such strong faith. Recently my daughter (How did she get SO wise?!) reminded me that faith is like a muscle and we have to exercise it to strengthen it. It’s time to get my faith to the gym… and put my fears in His hands.
It sounds so easy. It’s not for me or else I wouldn’t be here at 53…
I’ve decided I’m going to watch this video once a week:
to remind me what determination and courage look like.
And then, I’ll watch this one: https://www.facebook.com/gatewayaustin/videos/10155175627423692
I think I’ll also make a poster of my age so that I remember I don’t have all the time in the world anymore.