Last night, I drove home in the rain and decided to put on some mellow music and just enjoy the spring rain. Because I love the spring rain. I decided that I would go pick up Olivia and we would play downstairs in our living room with the back door open so she could see/hear/try to get out in the rain (I was planning on allowing this). I was so looking forward to it.
So I get to the daycare, and I get soaked – literally drenched – as I’m going in to pick her up. So I think, hey, she might like this, or at least I hope she does since I don’t have her raincoat with me. She did not like the rain. At least not being pelted with it on the way to the car. I still thought – you know, we can go inside and get dry, clean clothes on and have a ball. When we got home, though, she was really, really hungry, so I started her dinner. I went ahead and fixed mine, too, so that we could eat and go play together. My dinner didn’t turn out so well. I don’t recommend salmon quesadillas.
Finally, I’m downstairs with Olivia, whose diaper I had tried to change mid-poo because I was so distracted, and I’ve just spilled pink nail polish all over my fabulous new summer dress from Sandalwood Forest. I really and truly wanted to cry, but it was all just too frustrating. My hair was still wet, my mind was bewildered, my spirit was exhausted, and my daughter was running around half-naked in our disaster-area living room. The image I had driven home with of mother and daughter frolicking in the rain in flowy spring dresses had flat-lined. Just the same, we played with her Noah’s ark, and we read half of my favorite book. Then she wallered all over me while I helped the Murphy’s plan the music for Katie’s wedding. By 8:00, the Murphy’s had gone, Olivia was asleep, and I had the rest of the night to myself. I think I managed to accomplish a few things, to restore some minor order to the mess in our living room, but you couldn’t tell by looking, probably. I’m just really, really tired, and I am praying that very soon Olivia and I will have the opportunity to go somewhere and spend a couple of days just me and her.
‘But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: because of His great love, we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.’ –Lam. 3:21-24
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Baby, You're the Lucky One...
So I'm sitting here, and I am exhausted. I was on my way to church* at 7:30 a.m. to play and sing in both services. From there, I went to Target. From there, I picked Olivia up and went home. I fed her lunch and cleaned the kitchen. I let her play for a bit, then I put her down for her nap and Waleska and Brad came over for their engagement photo shoot.
After they left, I simultaneously folded two-day-ago-dried laundry and tried to find Lost Season 5, Episodes 1-5 online. They are gone, and that makes me want to boycott ABC. Except they own Lost. And Ugly Betty. Instead, I may write a very strongly worded letter. After folding the laundry, I curled up and resignedly watched Lost S5 episodes 6 and part of 7. Halfway through episode 7, I hear the babe. She had been asleep for 2+ hours, so I knew she'd gotten her nap out, and it was time to switch back into Mommy gear. So we came upstairs. She found a pencil and some paper (Waleska's wedding invitation, no less), and went to town. About every twenty seconds, though, she would stop for a kiss. It was the sweetness that I have struggled to infuse into our lives because of our frantic pace over the last few weeks, and I felt like this was her saying...I'm good. We're good. It's good. Mwah.
We needed to take a trip to Shermee's to pick up some things, so we hopped in the truck after some serious playing and rode over there, windows down, country music on, in our new favorite ride, the Highlander (heretofore referred to as Lefty. That is another blog post altogether.).
We stayed at Shermee's for just a bit, but I knew LiviLou needed to eat dinner, so we headed home. She ate - with the help of Aunt Rachel - and I uploaded Brad and Waleska's pics to my laptop, along with the twins' bday party pics
and some great shots from Livi playing this afternoon. Then we went downstairs, so she could play, and I could clean. I folded some more laundry. I put away all of the laundry I have been folding since Monday. I showed her how to clean up a bottle full of water when you (she) spill(s) it on the bamboo flooring in our hallway. She learned, firsthand, that the drawers on her bureau have never really laid on their rollers straight, so if you pull one all the way out, it will be nearly impossible for Mommy to get the thing back in without the whole bureau looking like it fell off the back of a truck at some point in its history. I stripped my bed and showed her how we wash our sheets while she tried to make a run for it because the garage door was still open. Then I heated up her bottle - it is a battle I am not fighting right now - and we started our bedtime routine...dim lights, sound machine, diapey change, clean, fresh pjs on, cradle hug from Mommy and down we go, pink blanket and Dux (her favorite bear, whom she named herself) tucked in with her.
I walked upstairs and got settled with the laptop, TV remote control and Diet Coke, and now I am ready to talk about this. The Sabbath.
I am so guilty of cluttering up our day of rest with anything but rest, until I find myself clamoring to jam some rest into any moment I can for the rest of the week, until Friday at noon, I am one big heaping pile of fatigue. My reserves are spent, and I can't wait for the weekend to get here so I can finally relax...except that I don't do that for any longer than a few hours at a time, at best.
Recently, my mother started nursing school. It is an intensive program, and it requires a great deal of her time, focus and energy. She is also working 24-30 hours a week. Plus she has her own home to maintain and, honestly, she is still pretty much a newlywed. Before, I was able to make many more requests of her time, but right now, she is spread fairly thin, so I am really trying to give her the space that she needs so she can excel in this next phase of her career. Nothing is different when Olivia and I do go to spend time with her and Gramps...it's just that, for now, we have to be a little more intentional about scheduling. And I am totally okay with that. I want my mom to finish her RN, and to finish well. The best way of describing it is this: the changes in her availability have forced me to begin pulling the other leg of my big girl britches up. And this is a good thing. All of it is very, very good, for everyone. I suppose it is just another reason why I am pondering how I structure mine and Olivia's life together.
So I am going to start praying about the Sabbath. I am not content with 2 hours here, 1 hour there, 3 hours here (if I'm lucky and she sleeps that long). The phrase "sun-up to sun-down" is ringing in my ears, and I think the image there - of beginning and ending a day having done nothing but rest, enjoy your family, and, of course, eat - is beautiful. Of course it is beautiful. God designed it, so its destiny is beauty. My intention is to carve out a chunk of time when the house is clean, the errands are run, we are bathed, dressed and presentable, and we can rest - relax, freely enjoy leisure activity with no distracting thoughts of laundry, budgeting, rehearsing, scrubbing, organizing, winterizing, springerizing, or any other "izing" that keeps us from enjoying the simplicity of being together. My daughter is getting older. Her emotions are maturing every day, and she notices when I am distracted, disconnected and stressed. Those moments are inevitable for any family, for any mother. But I think the healing comes when you can spend solid amounts of time connecting, really looking at each other and laughing with (or at) each other, and enjoying the life God has given us together, as mother and blessed, amazing daughter...without all the riff-raff getting in the way.
So please pray for me as I seek to be intentional about this. I am just so thankful that we live where we do - with people who love us and who also value rest and relaxation, so that there is no worry that the house will always be in a constant state of activity and we will have to go somewhere else to slow down. We are always able to slow down right here.
*On the way to church this morning, I flew past a Trooper going 80 mph. I slowed down, of course, and then about a mile later, I see said Trooper in my rearview mirror. What does he do? Flies right on past me. I couldn't believe the mercy. And I drove the speed limit the rest of the way to church and was, of course, late. :)
After they left, I simultaneously folded two-day-ago-dried laundry and tried to find Lost Season 5, Episodes 1-5 online. They are gone, and that makes me want to boycott ABC. Except they own Lost. And Ugly Betty. Instead, I may write a very strongly worded letter. After folding the laundry, I curled up and resignedly watched Lost S5 episodes 6 and part of 7. Halfway through episode 7, I hear the babe. She had been asleep for 2+ hours, so I knew she'd gotten her nap out, and it was time to switch back into Mommy gear. So we came upstairs. She found a pencil and some paper (Waleska's wedding invitation, no less), and went to town. About every twenty seconds, though, she would stop for a kiss. It was the sweetness that I have struggled to infuse into our lives because of our frantic pace over the last few weeks, and I felt like this was her saying...I'm good. We're good. It's good. Mwah.
We needed to take a trip to Shermee's to pick up some things, so we hopped in the truck after some serious playing and rode over there, windows down, country music on, in our new favorite ride, the Highlander (heretofore referred to as Lefty. That is another blog post altogether.).
We stayed at Shermee's for just a bit, but I knew LiviLou needed to eat dinner, so we headed home. She ate - with the help of Aunt Rachel - and I uploaded Brad and Waleska's pics to my laptop, along with the twins' bday party pics
and some great shots from Livi playing this afternoon. Then we went downstairs, so she could play, and I could clean. I folded some more laundry. I put away all of the laundry I have been folding since Monday. I showed her how to clean up a bottle full of water when you (she) spill(s) it on the bamboo flooring in our hallway. She learned, firsthand, that the drawers on her bureau have never really laid on their rollers straight, so if you pull one all the way out, it will be nearly impossible for Mommy to get the thing back in without the whole bureau looking like it fell off the back of a truck at some point in its history. I stripped my bed and showed her how we wash our sheets while she tried to make a run for it because the garage door was still open. Then I heated up her bottle - it is a battle I am not fighting right now - and we started our bedtime routine...dim lights, sound machine, diapey change, clean, fresh pjs on, cradle hug from Mommy and down we go, pink blanket and Dux (her favorite bear, whom she named herself) tucked in with her.
I walked upstairs and got settled with the laptop, TV remote control and Diet Coke, and now I am ready to talk about this. The Sabbath.
I am so guilty of cluttering up our day of rest with anything but rest, until I find myself clamoring to jam some rest into any moment I can for the rest of the week, until Friday at noon, I am one big heaping pile of fatigue. My reserves are spent, and I can't wait for the weekend to get here so I can finally relax...except that I don't do that for any longer than a few hours at a time, at best.
Recently, my mother started nursing school. It is an intensive program, and it requires a great deal of her time, focus and energy. She is also working 24-30 hours a week. Plus she has her own home to maintain and, honestly, she is still pretty much a newlywed. Before, I was able to make many more requests of her time, but right now, she is spread fairly thin, so I am really trying to give her the space that she needs so she can excel in this next phase of her career. Nothing is different when Olivia and I do go to spend time with her and Gramps...it's just that, for now, we have to be a little more intentional about scheduling. And I am totally okay with that. I want my mom to finish her RN, and to finish well. The best way of describing it is this: the changes in her availability have forced me to begin pulling the other leg of my big girl britches up. And this is a good thing. All of it is very, very good, for everyone. I suppose it is just another reason why I am pondering how I structure mine and Olivia's life together.
So I am going to start praying about the Sabbath. I am not content with 2 hours here, 1 hour there, 3 hours here (if I'm lucky and she sleeps that long). The phrase "sun-up to sun-down" is ringing in my ears, and I think the image there - of beginning and ending a day having done nothing but rest, enjoy your family, and, of course, eat - is beautiful. Of course it is beautiful. God designed it, so its destiny is beauty. My intention is to carve out a chunk of time when the house is clean, the errands are run, we are bathed, dressed and presentable, and we can rest - relax, freely enjoy leisure activity with no distracting thoughts of laundry, budgeting, rehearsing, scrubbing, organizing, winterizing, springerizing, or any other "izing" that keeps us from enjoying the simplicity of being together. My daughter is getting older. Her emotions are maturing every day, and she notices when I am distracted, disconnected and stressed. Those moments are inevitable for any family, for any mother. But I think the healing comes when you can spend solid amounts of time connecting, really looking at each other and laughing with (or at) each other, and enjoying the life God has given us together, as mother and blessed, amazing daughter...without all the riff-raff getting in the way.
So please pray for me as I seek to be intentional about this. I am just so thankful that we live where we do - with people who love us and who also value rest and relaxation, so that there is no worry that the house will always be in a constant state of activity and we will have to go somewhere else to slow down. We are always able to slow down right here.
*On the way to church this morning, I flew past a Trooper going 80 mph. I slowed down, of course, and then about a mile later, I see said Trooper in my rearview mirror. What does he do? Flies right on past me. I couldn't believe the mercy. And I drove the speed limit the rest of the way to church and was, of course, late. :)
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
**Announcement: my second child, a shiny new HP laptop, arrived in the mail today. Expect much more frequent blogs.**
I had a dream last night that I went back. They took me on as a contractor/consultant. Basically I was a freelance recruiter, and they had a base structure they paid me with bonuses on top. It was very pleasant, and it was like I could make my own rules. I got to say how things would go. It had me wondering if maybe I should look into going back – kind of test the waters. But then I remember how many days I left there so stressed and so unsure of things. I would wonder how badly I had messed up this time, and what I could do to make up for it the next day, and what they were thinking about me and saying to each other about me behind my back. If they were asking each other if I was on pills, or if I was having trouble adjusting to being a single mother, or if I was going to get married and leave them high and dry, or if I was just plain stupid. I would complete a project and many times it would be sent back to me for correction – the tiniest, most insignificant correction, or the amount of time I had taken with it would be criticized, or it would simply be ignored. I would make suggestions and they would be cut off at the pass, and I always wondered if they could see my jaw clench, and if they knew how many jaw clenches I was from leaving them. I would be drilled for answers, and when I couldn’t answer them as precisely as they wanted, I would sit there, feeling like a bumbling idiot. I felt like a bumbling idiot about 50% of the time that I was there. About 25% of the time that I was there, I was happy – we were laughing, planning, looking to the future, agreeing with each other, making plans. I never felt like he was quite as excited as I was about things or as she would be. I always felt like he looked at me with varying levels of mistrust or disinterest. And I struggled to truly respect him in return. The other 25% of the time that I was there, I was trying to figure out how to motivate these people that worked for us – how to encourage them when my assignment was to crack the whip. How to manage them without insulting their intelligence. How to keep my cool when they did things that were going to make my life immensely more difficult. I felt like I had to know everything – to have my hands in, on and around the entire operation, and in the end, my hands just weren’t big enough. So I took that on as a personal fault. My tragic flaw, having such small hands. So I have taken that away with me. The Small Hand Syndrome. I am grasping at my job, my daughter, my family, my friends, my home, my church, my budget, my health, my God…and I am finding that my hands just won’t reach around all of it. So I can keep grasping and straining and reaching and ending up frustrated and worried and, once again, feeling like a bumbling idiot. Or I can realize that my hands are not meant to reach around all of my life. That there are hands bigger than mine that hold me and all of the above. And that is where I hope to find peace – in the adequacy of knowing that my hands were not built to hold the world…and that it is perfectly okay.
If I could tell the world just one thing
It would be that we're all ok
And not to worry because worry is wasteful
and useless in times like these
I will not be made useless
I won't be idled with despair
I will gather myself around my faith
for light does the darkness most fear
My hands are small, I know,
but they're not yours they are my own
and I am never broken
I had a dream last night that I went back. They took me on as a contractor/consultant. Basically I was a freelance recruiter, and they had a base structure they paid me with bonuses on top. It was very pleasant, and it was like I could make my own rules. I got to say how things would go. It had me wondering if maybe I should look into going back – kind of test the waters. But then I remember how many days I left there so stressed and so unsure of things. I would wonder how badly I had messed up this time, and what I could do to make up for it the next day, and what they were thinking about me and saying to each other about me behind my back. If they were asking each other if I was on pills, or if I was having trouble adjusting to being a single mother, or if I was going to get married and leave them high and dry, or if I was just plain stupid. I would complete a project and many times it would be sent back to me for correction – the tiniest, most insignificant correction, or the amount of time I had taken with it would be criticized, or it would simply be ignored. I would make suggestions and they would be cut off at the pass, and I always wondered if they could see my jaw clench, and if they knew how many jaw clenches I was from leaving them. I would be drilled for answers, and when I couldn’t answer them as precisely as they wanted, I would sit there, feeling like a bumbling idiot. I felt like a bumbling idiot about 50% of the time that I was there. About 25% of the time that I was there, I was happy – we were laughing, planning, looking to the future, agreeing with each other, making plans. I never felt like he was quite as excited as I was about things or as she would be. I always felt like he looked at me with varying levels of mistrust or disinterest. And I struggled to truly respect him in return. The other 25% of the time that I was there, I was trying to figure out how to motivate these people that worked for us – how to encourage them when my assignment was to crack the whip. How to manage them without insulting their intelligence. How to keep my cool when they did things that were going to make my life immensely more difficult. I felt like I had to know everything – to have my hands in, on and around the entire operation, and in the end, my hands just weren’t big enough. So I took that on as a personal fault. My tragic flaw, having such small hands. So I have taken that away with me. The Small Hand Syndrome. I am grasping at my job, my daughter, my family, my friends, my home, my church, my budget, my health, my God…and I am finding that my hands just won’t reach around all of it. So I can keep grasping and straining and reaching and ending up frustrated and worried and, once again, feeling like a bumbling idiot. Or I can realize that my hands are not meant to reach around all of my life. That there are hands bigger than mine that hold me and all of the above. And that is where I hope to find peace – in the adequacy of knowing that my hands were not built to hold the world…and that it is perfectly okay.
If I could tell the world just one thing
It would be that we're all ok
And not to worry because worry is wasteful
and useless in times like these
I will not be made useless
I won't be idled with despair
I will gather myself around my faith
for light does the darkness most fear
My hands are small, I know,
but they're not yours they are my own
and I am never broken
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Rejoice not over me
I don't even know where to begin.
"Rejoice not over me, O my enemy;
when I fall, I shall rise;
when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light to me.
Who is a God like You, pardoning iniquity and passing over transgression for the remnant of His inheritance? He does not retain His anger forever, because He delights in steadfast love. He will again have compassion on us; He will tread our iniquities under foot. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea. You will show faithfulness to Jacob and steadfast love to Abraham, as You have sworn to our fathers from the days of old." --Micah 7:8, 18-20
There is so much - so much - going on right now. One thing at a time, though, right? Specifically in the next two weeks, I will be facing one of my greatest challenges as a mother. It is something that has been looming for over a year now. I am both dreading and welcoming it. Please pray for me, that I will have peace, comfort and strength. Pray that I will be bold and unswerving in protecting my daughter, yet also humble. Pray for Olivia, that she will sense only the love I have for her, the love our Father has for her, and the love my family has for her. Pray for logistics, pray for expediancy.
And pray that, in two weeks, this will all be behind us, and I can breathe.
"Rejoice not over me, O my enemy;
when I fall, I shall rise;
when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light to me.
Who is a God like You, pardoning iniquity and passing over transgression for the remnant of His inheritance? He does not retain His anger forever, because He delights in steadfast love. He will again have compassion on us; He will tread our iniquities under foot. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea. You will show faithfulness to Jacob and steadfast love to Abraham, as You have sworn to our fathers from the days of old." --Micah 7:8, 18-20
There is so much - so much - going on right now. One thing at a time, though, right? Specifically in the next two weeks, I will be facing one of my greatest challenges as a mother. It is something that has been looming for over a year now. I am both dreading and welcoming it. Please pray for me, that I will have peace, comfort and strength. Pray that I will be bold and unswerving in protecting my daughter, yet also humble. Pray for Olivia, that she will sense only the love I have for her, the love our Father has for her, and the love my family has for her. Pray for logistics, pray for expediancy.
And pray that, in two weeks, this will all be behind us, and I can breathe.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
The Update
Our lives have been insane over the last several weeks. We have gone from one house to the next, and I feel like our bags have basically stayed halfway packed around the clock, even when we are at home.
When I got back from Florida, we had a little bit of down time before Sharla and the kids arrived. They got in on September 1, and I think this weekend is the first time that we have spent completely at home since then. We were back and forth between Mom's and Dad's and Nana's. And of course, it was so much fun, and so good to see Sharla and the kids. But it's also no wonder that Liv came down with a pretty intense ear infection this week. She started seeming yucky at first over the weekend, but I chalked it up to a cold and moved on. It wasn't until Wednesday morning, when she woke up with a fever, that I gave the whole thing a little more credit. I stayed home from work and took her in to see the doctor. That night, her fever had gotten up to 104.5, and after the fever issues we had earlier this year that landed us in the ER, I definitely was a little freaked out. Mom managed to help me bring it down, but it was still going the next morning, so I had to stay home again. Because of the role I play in my company, it's really not pleasant for me to have to be out two days in a row, unless I've planned it in advance and redistributed some things. So in the middle of Livi being sick and feverish and generally miserable, I was also trying to get my house clean, work from home as much as possible, and take care of my baby. All of that managed to wear me out emotionally and physically. I felt like no one was getting the best I had to offer, and out of everyone who looks to me for my daily contributions, Olivia is definitely the most important. I just won't do that to her again. The next day she was still running a fever, but I had made arrangements for Mom and Nana to take turns keeping her so I could go in to the office.
It's Sunday now, and Livi seems to be getting better, although this morning was the first time since Wednesday that she has eaten a full meal, and last night we were up from 2am-4am because she was crying and fussing. Rachel got home from Boston last night, so she got Livi out of bed this morning and let me sleep in - which was so awesome, I really needed it, and now the babe is taking her nap. I think we are both looking forward to getting back into our normal routine tomorrow.
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about mine and Olivia's future, and that in itself has been a little exhausting. I am thankful that I find myself in a place where I can look beyond mere survival to what my dreams are - for me, for her, for us. The interesting thing about getting older is that you have to be able to look at what your dreams were, and say, it's okay that you didn't get there...because now you have new dreams, different dreams, and they are defined by who you are in a way that no dream has ever been before. I truly believe that God wants us to have dreams - because I think He wants to fulfill them for us and be glorified. There is a specific dream in my heart right now, and I think my overall prayer is: if You would let me do that...it would be awesome. Just show me how.
Well, I have a grave mess in the kitchen to clean up. Last night I made dinner, and I managed to grab the handle of a cast iron skillet fresh out of a 500 degree oven with my bare hand. It throbbed for about two and a half hours. But here's an interesting home remedy: instead of Neosporin, I put Lidocaine on it - you know, the stuff you put on a sunburn - and it seriously made all the difference. I didn't blister at all, and today you can barely even see where I burned myself. Alright, I'm off to scrub some pots.
When I got back from Florida, we had a little bit of down time before Sharla and the kids arrived. They got in on September 1, and I think this weekend is the first time that we have spent completely at home since then. We were back and forth between Mom's and Dad's and Nana's. And of course, it was so much fun, and so good to see Sharla and the kids. But it's also no wonder that Liv came down with a pretty intense ear infection this week. She started seeming yucky at first over the weekend, but I chalked it up to a cold and moved on. It wasn't until Wednesday morning, when she woke up with a fever, that I gave the whole thing a little more credit. I stayed home from work and took her in to see the doctor. That night, her fever had gotten up to 104.5, and after the fever issues we had earlier this year that landed us in the ER, I definitely was a little freaked out. Mom managed to help me bring it down, but it was still going the next morning, so I had to stay home again. Because of the role I play in my company, it's really not pleasant for me to have to be out two days in a row, unless I've planned it in advance and redistributed some things. So in the middle of Livi being sick and feverish and generally miserable, I was also trying to get my house clean, work from home as much as possible, and take care of my baby. All of that managed to wear me out emotionally and physically. I felt like no one was getting the best I had to offer, and out of everyone who looks to me for my daily contributions, Olivia is definitely the most important. I just won't do that to her again. The next day she was still running a fever, but I had made arrangements for Mom and Nana to take turns keeping her so I could go in to the office.
It's Sunday now, and Livi seems to be getting better, although this morning was the first time since Wednesday that she has eaten a full meal, and last night we were up from 2am-4am because she was crying and fussing. Rachel got home from Boston last night, so she got Livi out of bed this morning and let me sleep in - which was so awesome, I really needed it, and now the babe is taking her nap. I think we are both looking forward to getting back into our normal routine tomorrow.
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about mine and Olivia's future, and that in itself has been a little exhausting. I am thankful that I find myself in a place where I can look beyond mere survival to what my dreams are - for me, for her, for us. The interesting thing about getting older is that you have to be able to look at what your dreams were, and say, it's okay that you didn't get there...because now you have new dreams, different dreams, and they are defined by who you are in a way that no dream has ever been before. I truly believe that God wants us to have dreams - because I think He wants to fulfill them for us and be glorified. There is a specific dream in my heart right now, and I think my overall prayer is: if You would let me do that...it would be awesome. Just show me how.
Well, I have a grave mess in the kitchen to clean up. Last night I made dinner, and I managed to grab the handle of a cast iron skillet fresh out of a 500 degree oven with my bare hand. It throbbed for about two and a half hours. But here's an interesting home remedy: instead of Neosporin, I put Lidocaine on it - you know, the stuff you put on a sunburn - and it seriously made all the difference. I didn't blister at all, and today you can barely even see where I burned myself. Alright, I'm off to scrub some pots.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
...and I'm spent.
I love the new places. I think I am blessed to be one of those people that is not derailed by change on a grand scale. That having been said, I have not yet had to deal with disastrous change on a grand scale; although, there have been some startling changes that I have encountered. Nonetheless, I tend to thrive on change. I love for the routine to be broken up; in fact, I am not a fan of routine unless it comes to my daughter. Then I L-O-V-E it because it is such a good thing for her. But for me - no. At...the...same...time....I am also not a huge risk-taker. You will not find me bungee-jumping; in fact, you might even be hard-pressed to get me on a rollercoaster. Pack up my belongings and spend three weeks in China? Okay. But hop on the pirate ship ride at the State Fair? You might as well forget it.
Several years ago I visited Gulf Shores with a friend from college, and for the first time since I had begun going to the beach, I had a real problem going into the water. We were walking along the shore one night, and we saw tons of jellyfish washed up on the sand, and it just freaked me out. I thought - if those things are in the water, and they can sting me, I am NOT going in. So I spent most of the rest of the trip just chilling in the sand. Which, of course, was fine with me because I ended up getting very, very tan. It was a long time before I had the opportunity to go back to the beach, and when I did - same thing. I couldn't go too far into the water without worrying about what was in there. I was partially paralyzed by fear, and I couldn't just enjoy being in the ocean.
I was walking along the beach on Friday morning...and I can't tell you how much joy it gives me just to be able to say that...and I was listening to my iPod, and I just started to feel this sense of freedom. It was amazing - like my heart was so light, because God has given me such an amazingly good life, and I have so much that makes me happy. And I started thinking about fear, and how I allow it to paralyze me sometimes in the smallest areas of my life (see: wasps and bees) and also the larger areas of my life. And I thought to myself - I am on vacation, dang it. And I am not going to be afraid of anything. I am going to trust that God loves me and probably doesn't want me to get stung by a jellyfish, but that even if I do get stung by a jellyfish, He will get me through. And so, it was with no small amount of abandon that I leapt into the ocean on Friday of last week, and for the first time in years did not teeter on the edge of panic at the thought of all the jellyfish, sand crabs and other various and sundry ocean critters that may have been lurking just below the surface, waiting to grab hold of my legs and sting me with a fierce enough vengeance to land me in the ER for the remainder of my trip. In fact, if you can believe it, Kim and I were so far from shore that our beach chairs were the size of Cheerios, and we were jumping into the waves and giggling like 14 year olds.
It was the best moment of my trip, and I hope I can relive it next year with my daughter. I hope I can be the kind of woman that can run into the ocean and jump into waves - even the scary ones - because I am trusting my Father to take care of me. I want to be fearless.
"...for God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." (2Ti 1:7)
Several years ago I visited Gulf Shores with a friend from college, and for the first time since I had begun going to the beach, I had a real problem going into the water. We were walking along the shore one night, and we saw tons of jellyfish washed up on the sand, and it just freaked me out. I thought - if those things are in the water, and they can sting me, I am NOT going in. So I spent most of the rest of the trip just chilling in the sand. Which, of course, was fine with me because I ended up getting very, very tan. It was a long time before I had the opportunity to go back to the beach, and when I did - same thing. I couldn't go too far into the water without worrying about what was in there. I was partially paralyzed by fear, and I couldn't just enjoy being in the ocean.
I was walking along the beach on Friday morning...and I can't tell you how much joy it gives me just to be able to say that...and I was listening to my iPod, and I just started to feel this sense of freedom. It was amazing - like my heart was so light, because God has given me such an amazingly good life, and I have so much that makes me happy. And I started thinking about fear, and how I allow it to paralyze me sometimes in the smallest areas of my life (see: wasps and bees) and also the larger areas of my life. And I thought to myself - I am on vacation, dang it. And I am not going to be afraid of anything. I am going to trust that God loves me and probably doesn't want me to get stung by a jellyfish, but that even if I do get stung by a jellyfish, He will get me through. And so, it was with no small amount of abandon that I leapt into the ocean on Friday of last week, and for the first time in years did not teeter on the edge of panic at the thought of all the jellyfish, sand crabs and other various and sundry ocean critters that may have been lurking just below the surface, waiting to grab hold of my legs and sting me with a fierce enough vengeance to land me in the ER for the remainder of my trip. In fact, if you can believe it, Kim and I were so far from shore that our beach chairs were the size of Cheerios, and we were jumping into the waves and giggling like 14 year olds.
It was the best moment of my trip, and I hope I can relive it next year with my daughter. I hope I can be the kind of woman that can run into the ocean and jump into waves - even the scary ones - because I am trusting my Father to take care of me. I want to be fearless.
"...for God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." (2Ti 1:7)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)