Today was a really awful day in church for me.
I didn't sleep well last night for the millionth night in a row. Pregnancy induced insomnia and having to pee a million times a night while hoping to catch a glimpse of the deer who keep hanging out on the other side of our bedroom window have a way of keeping a pregnant woman up at night.
The children must not have slept well either.
Then I dumped my son's birthday cake upside down while getting out of the giant van lugging the baby and toddler that the 7 yr old wanted to share with his Sunday school class.
Then the baby dumped red punch that someone handed him down my new white sweater.
Then I went up for communion.
And afterwards I heard "Lord now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace according to Your Word..."
Ahh, Thy sweet Word, Lord Jesus, which makes all things new, heals all ills, creates faith, restores my soul.
According to your Word it is done.
Our new church does not use a chalice. I'm not sure why. Honestly I'm not sure they are either. But since it's been this way for so long I suppose no one sees why it should be any different. And I know this does not change the fact that when I drink I receive Christ's blood for my forgiveness. And what church could not use help or restoration in a myriad of places?
But it makes me sad. I have never been deprived the chalice before. I could site all the usual reasons I think a chalice is so wonderful: Christ instituted it this way, the visual symbol of all being one in the body of Christ, and there's this beautiful painting that shows the blood of Christ flowing out of His side and into the chalice from the cross that I used to always love picturing in my mind while at the rail.
But there's another reason it breaks my heart each Sunday that I pass by and am handed the little plastic cup of loneliness. We know that when we receive Christ's Body and Blood we are not only joining in the meal with all those present physically but also with all the host of heaven in their heavenly banquet feast. My Dad just happens to be one of those there present. And the one cup, being passed through the body of Christ and given by Christ Himself...well, it always brought me so much joy to be joined with him if even for the moment. As my Pastor stands in the stead of Christ I always pictured Christ's very hands going from my Dad to me in the offering of His Blood in the cup.
Change brought on by sinful humans does not affect this, Christ is above the strange practices of humans...but for this sinful human, it sure doesn't help me on a day of weakness and loneliness when I really needed that visual aid given and instituted by Christ.
I think Christ knew what He was doing and while humans may do millions of things each and every day with no import or reasoning we know that Christ was not so. EVERYthing He did was of great import and with great reason...even if we cannot understand it.
May all Pastors of Christ seek greater reverence as they fight the fight against the laziness and meaninglessness of the ways of the devil, the world, and our own sinful flesh.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Why my home school kid
will always be smarter than I was at his age.
Ever since we moved to the city I have been put in a number of uncomfortable positions concerning the perceived education level of my eldest.
It seems everywhere we go in the city people are like autobots. On the surface they have different jobs, different colors, different homes, etc but then they randomly get in lines, raise their hands to speak, and "roll out" doing whatever anyone with pretend authority tells them to. This may be offensive to some, and I'm making generalizations, but after years of living out in the middle of nowhere it really shows how programmed people can be.
Enter my oldest home school kid. He doesn't know how to walk in line, he had never been told to raise his hand to speak (if he's in a situation where there are many people talking and he wants a turn he either waits until there is quiet or he goes to the adult in the room and puts his hand on their arm to quietly get their attention), and his only authority is God and his Mama and Daddy and any adult his Mama and Daddy are friends with.
And suddenly his differences started to stand out. In Sunday School he couldn't write or read what they wanted him to. When questioned by strangers he had no idea what grade he was in. He doesn't know what a book report is, what a test is, what grades are, or how to make a diorama..much less what one even is. He doesn't know what language arts means, what detention is, and he doesn't know what it is to have his day be about fine tuning his knowledge in a progression of subjects, order, walking in line, performing, and concentrating on his own person.
At first this worried me. Suddenly I realized I may have ruined my son before he reached the tender age of 7. He would be a public school failure if I entered him today.
But then, after freaking out one day, a series of events showed me something very fascinating.
One day my husband took my son on a nursing home visit. My son LOVES going on nursing home visits with his Dad. He told me Mrs B, who is 80 something years old, was his best friend. While there she asked him what he's learning in school. When I heard this I panicked...we hadn't done formal "school" in days. Well he happily told her all about several famous war battle ships, who was on them by name and rank, and which wars they fought in and who won. She was blown away. He learned all this from a few books we have at home and from a history documentary he watched one time. The way in which he presented the information was clear and organized. He could give a better oral report than any written report I had spent hours on at his age and he did it on the spot without effort.
Another day I found a list of things children should know by the end of first grade. I began hyperventilating as I read the list realizing we had covered none of the things in the science, history, or language arts sections. OK, maybe not none, but very few. I made mental notes to talk to him about many of the things that stood out. Later that day we went to a home school group that we attend weekly and one of the lessons happened to cover several of the things. The mother leading the lesson began asking questions and one by one my son shouted out the answers along side the other kids. I was astounded! How did he know these things? I questioned him later and he told me the titles of several books we had at home. To satiate my curiosity I began running through the rest of the list. Somehow he knew every single thing on the list.
My son's day revolves 100% around his family. From the time he wakes up he helps serve his siblings and his parents in all the daily tasks of keeping home, cooking meals with me, play time, lesson time, and greeting Daddy at the end of the day. We take turns having one on one time with Mom for learning and when he's not with me he's teaching his brother letters or playing with the baby or going over colors and numbers with our 2 yr old. He doesn't do this because he's forced, he thinks it's fun. And later in the day he watches for our older neighbor lady in a wheel chair so he can visit with her and our next door neighbor handy man to ask him about his day and if there's any jobs he needs help with.
And his world view at this age is that life is about serving God first and his family/neighbor second. It is about obeying authority and serving. And in the safety of home and family he cannot get his fill of learning. Subjects are not divided and counted off, they fall naturally into life where they belong and where they are learned with much curiosity and vigor. Math is done in the grocery store line and in budgeting and in lego making. Science is done in making home made cleaners and in understanding why baking soda mixed with vinegar in our almond butter bread recipe makes it bubble.
And at the end of the day I realized...my son is like a butterfly before it emerges from it's chrysalis...he may look drab and people may wonder if he'll ever emerge "normal" by society's terms, but that little boy has so much natural curiosity and SO much knowledge on more subjects than I had ever even began to know at his age, that on the day when writing and difficult reading finally click for him, he will astound everyone.
He will never need a job or friends or a schedule to make him feel like he is a part of something or to keep him from feeling lost. He feels identity in family and service to God. As long as there is someone to serve or help he feels purpose. He'll learn to fill in bubbles and write reports later...and when he does he will embarrass me in all my pathetic attempts as a child. He will grow in his love for one area of service over another and will learn to fill out a W-2 and will have a job capable of providing for his family. But I can't wait to see how a life outside of divided segmented subjects and tests and self development/character analysis/Myers Briggs and walking in lines makes him a different individual with a different world view. I can't wait to see the things he and all my children will teach me as they get older because of the absolutely different people they will be from anything my public school produced.
Please note that I did not say my home school kid is BETTER than I am/was. I do not think he is better. I do not think school or home or private school is BETTER. Each family has different reasons for choosing each thing and I know many families and dear friends that have chosen one over another for VERY good reasons, reasons I agree with and admire. I think their kids are amazing and I think God is using and blessing and molding their upbringing for a certain purpose.
But the path our family has been set on is exciting and new for me. I am seeing the differences and it excites me for what God could have planned for my kids. And even though he looks absolutely dumb and inept to some standards of education, I'm here to brag that my kid is a genius.
Ever since we moved to the city I have been put in a number of uncomfortable positions concerning the perceived education level of my eldest.
It seems everywhere we go in the city people are like autobots. On the surface they have different jobs, different colors, different homes, etc but then they randomly get in lines, raise their hands to speak, and "roll out" doing whatever anyone with pretend authority tells them to. This may be offensive to some, and I'm making generalizations, but after years of living out in the middle of nowhere it really shows how programmed people can be.
Enter my oldest home school kid. He doesn't know how to walk in line, he had never been told to raise his hand to speak (if he's in a situation where there are many people talking and he wants a turn he either waits until there is quiet or he goes to the adult in the room and puts his hand on their arm to quietly get their attention), and his only authority is God and his Mama and Daddy and any adult his Mama and Daddy are friends with.
And suddenly his differences started to stand out. In Sunday School he couldn't write or read what they wanted him to. When questioned by strangers he had no idea what grade he was in. He doesn't know what a book report is, what a test is, what grades are, or how to make a diorama..much less what one even is. He doesn't know what language arts means, what detention is, and he doesn't know what it is to have his day be about fine tuning his knowledge in a progression of subjects, order, walking in line, performing, and concentrating on his own person.
At first this worried me. Suddenly I realized I may have ruined my son before he reached the tender age of 7. He would be a public school failure if I entered him today.
But then, after freaking out one day, a series of events showed me something very fascinating.
One day my husband took my son on a nursing home visit. My son LOVES going on nursing home visits with his Dad. He told me Mrs B, who is 80 something years old, was his best friend. While there she asked him what he's learning in school. When I heard this I panicked...we hadn't done formal "school" in days. Well he happily told her all about several famous war battle ships, who was on them by name and rank, and which wars they fought in and who won. She was blown away. He learned all this from a few books we have at home and from a history documentary he watched one time. The way in which he presented the information was clear and organized. He could give a better oral report than any written report I had spent hours on at his age and he did it on the spot without effort.
Another day I found a list of things children should know by the end of first grade. I began hyperventilating as I read the list realizing we had covered none of the things in the science, history, or language arts sections. OK, maybe not none, but very few. I made mental notes to talk to him about many of the things that stood out. Later that day we went to a home school group that we attend weekly and one of the lessons happened to cover several of the things. The mother leading the lesson began asking questions and one by one my son shouted out the answers along side the other kids. I was astounded! How did he know these things? I questioned him later and he told me the titles of several books we had at home. To satiate my curiosity I began running through the rest of the list. Somehow he knew every single thing on the list.
My son's day revolves 100% around his family. From the time he wakes up he helps serve his siblings and his parents in all the daily tasks of keeping home, cooking meals with me, play time, lesson time, and greeting Daddy at the end of the day. We take turns having one on one time with Mom for learning and when he's not with me he's teaching his brother letters or playing with the baby or going over colors and numbers with our 2 yr old. He doesn't do this because he's forced, he thinks it's fun. And later in the day he watches for our older neighbor lady in a wheel chair so he can visit with her and our next door neighbor handy man to ask him about his day and if there's any jobs he needs help with.
And his world view at this age is that life is about serving God first and his family/neighbor second. It is about obeying authority and serving. And in the safety of home and family he cannot get his fill of learning. Subjects are not divided and counted off, they fall naturally into life where they belong and where they are learned with much curiosity and vigor. Math is done in the grocery store line and in budgeting and in lego making. Science is done in making home made cleaners and in understanding why baking soda mixed with vinegar in our almond butter bread recipe makes it bubble.
And at the end of the day I realized...my son is like a butterfly before it emerges from it's chrysalis...he may look drab and people may wonder if he'll ever emerge "normal" by society's terms, but that little boy has so much natural curiosity and SO much knowledge on more subjects than I had ever even began to know at his age, that on the day when writing and difficult reading finally click for him, he will astound everyone.
He will never need a job or friends or a schedule to make him feel like he is a part of something or to keep him from feeling lost. He feels identity in family and service to God. As long as there is someone to serve or help he feels purpose. He'll learn to fill in bubbles and write reports later...and when he does he will embarrass me in all my pathetic attempts as a child. He will grow in his love for one area of service over another and will learn to fill out a W-2 and will have a job capable of providing for his family. But I can't wait to see how a life outside of divided segmented subjects and tests and self development/character analysis/Myers Briggs and walking in lines makes him a different individual with a different world view. I can't wait to see the things he and all my children will teach me as they get older because of the absolutely different people they will be from anything my public school produced.
Please note that I did not say my home school kid is BETTER than I am/was. I do not think he is better. I do not think school or home or private school is BETTER. Each family has different reasons for choosing each thing and I know many families and dear friends that have chosen one over another for VERY good reasons, reasons I agree with and admire. I think their kids are amazing and I think God is using and blessing and molding their upbringing for a certain purpose.
But the path our family has been set on is exciting and new for me. I am seeing the differences and it excites me for what God could have planned for my kids. And even though he looks absolutely dumb and inept to some standards of education, I'm here to brag that my kid is a genius.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
They must fear
There's a certain right that Americans have today as given in the constitution that has come under serious fire in recent years, months, and even more so in recent weeks.
And the stance seems to mostly vary from agreeing with the right being taken away to being mediocre on it.
My husband had a conversation in which some people didn't feel the right should necessarily be taken away but that they could see it being...lessened. And the thought was, "I can see how we don't need..." this or that part of the right. I mean, it's not really necessary.
And my very wise husband said, "You may not feel you need this specific part of the right, but do you see, if you allow them to tell you what you need and what you don't under a given right, then what about when they decide that you don't really need to worship in a church, or on a Sunday? What about when they tell you you don't really need this much wealth or that big of a home or that nice of a car? It is not up to them to tell us what we need. They must fear the people so that they are not able to abuse the people."
And the stance seems to mostly vary from agreeing with the right being taken away to being mediocre on it.
My husband had a conversation in which some people didn't feel the right should necessarily be taken away but that they could see it being...lessened. And the thought was, "I can see how we don't need..." this or that part of the right. I mean, it's not really necessary.
And my very wise husband said, "You may not feel you need this specific part of the right, but do you see, if you allow them to tell you what you need and what you don't under a given right, then what about when they decide that you don't really need to worship in a church, or on a Sunday? What about when they tell you you don't really need this much wealth or that big of a home or that nice of a car? It is not up to them to tell us what we need. They must fear the people so that they are not able to abuse the people."
Monday, December 17, 2012
Fruit
Sometimes things are good, really really good. Sometimes things are bad, really really bad. I suppose most of us feel like we're in the middle most of the time. For Pastors' families, perhaps, monetarily speaking, we often feel more towards the bad.
And today I was pondering my own reactions when things are really bad and really good. And I wondered what the course of my family life would be if, instead of pondering ways to better my family's situation in all times, we lived in the joy and contentment of Christ and gave to the betterment of others when we are able.
Is that reckless? There are so many programs today for Christian families teaching how to stay out of debt and how to work towards having this empire of sorts for your huge family...but is that truly Christ like?
I know the passages these ideas come from and while I understand staying out of selfish/wasteful debt I also think some of these passages, in particular ones regarding parables that actually teach us about Christ -not ourselves- are gravely misunderstood.
And so I wonder, assuming of course that our family's basic needs are met and even then some sometimes, would it be better to work towards building your empire and future, or living in the joy of blessing others? Which is Scriptural?
And today I was pondering my own reactions when things are really bad and really good. And I wondered what the course of my family life would be if, instead of pondering ways to better my family's situation in all times, we lived in the joy and contentment of Christ and gave to the betterment of others when we are able.
Is that reckless? There are so many programs today for Christian families teaching how to stay out of debt and how to work towards having this empire of sorts for your huge family...but is that truly Christ like?
I know the passages these ideas come from and while I understand staying out of selfish/wasteful debt I also think some of these passages, in particular ones regarding parables that actually teach us about Christ -not ourselves- are gravely misunderstood.
And so I wonder, assuming of course that our family's basic needs are met and even then some sometimes, would it be better to work towards building your empire and future, or living in the joy of blessing others? Which is Scriptural?
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Friday, December 14, 2012
The way YOU see them.
I watched this totally weepy "Christmas" movie tonight. But it was one of those times where I thought some dramatic sounding title would end up being this sappy happy ending and it wasn't. It really was more of a documentary about what families go through who have a child diagnosed with serious cancer and in particular, the journey at St. Jude's.
The story of this one family blew me away and had me weeping. Their precious baby boy ended up dying after fighting for 18 months.
You know, I've followed many stories on blogs, news, etc just like this family's...but for some reason this movie, based on a true story, affected me differently. The main message of the movie was to live each day as if it's your last, a message we've all heard before, but again, tonight it was different.
I think as a home schooling mom of many and in particular, a pastor's wife, it's easy to become legalistic and pietistic. To find joy in how others see you based on how you measure up in one way or another instead of in the doting, FREE GRACE, love of our Heavenly Father.
FOR WHILE WE WERE YET SINNERS...
There was no hope of us behaving better the next time, no amount of training that could make us better and He knew that from the beginning. It was us that had to be convinced (and still do every single day). So instead He gave Himself...for you.
I know as parents it's our duty to discipline our children. But I wonder how much discipline would look different if we truly did it only when we saw our child stuck in unrepentant rebellion...instead of when they weren't doing something we thought they should because it would make them look more pious.
My prayer tonight is Lord, help me to see them the way YOU see them. Help me to love the way YOU love.
Tonight I'll linger a little longer next to their bedsides and tomorrow I'll hug a little longer and play a little longer and hope that by the grace of God, Christ keeps us.
The story of this one family blew me away and had me weeping. Their precious baby boy ended up dying after fighting for 18 months.
You know, I've followed many stories on blogs, news, etc just like this family's...but for some reason this movie, based on a true story, affected me differently. The main message of the movie was to live each day as if it's your last, a message we've all heard before, but again, tonight it was different.
I think as a home schooling mom of many and in particular, a pastor's wife, it's easy to become legalistic and pietistic. To find joy in how others see you based on how you measure up in one way or another instead of in the doting, FREE GRACE, love of our Heavenly Father.
FOR WHILE WE WERE YET SINNERS...
There was no hope of us behaving better the next time, no amount of training that could make us better and He knew that from the beginning. It was us that had to be convinced (and still do every single day). So instead He gave Himself...for you.
I know as parents it's our duty to discipline our children. But I wonder how much discipline would look different if we truly did it only when we saw our child stuck in unrepentant rebellion...instead of when they weren't doing something we thought they should because it would make them look more pious.
My prayer tonight is Lord, help me to see them the way YOU see them. Help me to love the way YOU love.
Tonight I'll linger a little longer next to their bedsides and tomorrow I'll hug a little longer and play a little longer and hope that by the grace of God, Christ keeps us.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
It was a cold night that night in December. That is, there was enough of a nip that when I went jogging after church I wished I had put on pants instead of shorts. The fog was so thick I felt like I was running through a cool mist humidifier. But as I ran the street lights illumined the fog which made the whole street look like it was lined with golden bursts of light. I had finals on my mind which were the following week as well as my visit earlier in the day with friends. Christmas was two weeks away and college just around the corner. I was completely self absorbed in my own teenage soon-to-be-on-my-own world.
And then I saw his Suburban approach. I jogged part way across the road to meet him but something was wrong, he wasn't slowing down. I stopped mid road as the head lights in the fog made the whole vehicle glow like it was Elijah's chariot when I saw the stranger's face through the window. He looked at me but I saw nothing. All of time stood still. It was supposed to be him and everything would be OK. But it wasn't him.
He was supposed to be home hours before. He had missed church completely. The rest of the night comes in flashes. After returning home from my run my step mom was tucking my little brother into his makeshift bed on the couch where he had taken to sleeping and I showered and was on the phone with my mom while trying to do home work. Then the mother of my dad's law partner (he was also in the plane that night) called frantically asking what kind of plane they flew because there were reports of a small aircraft crashing near the airport. It's funny because I'm a worrier. Big time. But the strangest thing about that night is that, despite my moment of panic while running, I remember rolling my eyes as I asked my step mom to confirm the type of plane and then quickly got back to my conversation with my mom as if nothing was happening. And I remember seriously being blinded to it. Talk about the Lord's protective hand.
About an hour later my little sister burst through the door and announced "Dad's plane went down." I looked up from my spot on my bed and said, "What do you mean it went down?" She said, "I don't know but Mom is crying."
I don't remember the run across the house. I just appeared in their room to see her holding the phone with both hands like it might run away. She was crying and asking questions. I don't remember what. I remember standing in the middle of the room not thinking not moving not exisiting.
I heard a commotion at the front door and my step mom told me to answer it. As I left her bedroom I was intercepted by my Pastor and my Dad's best friend. I don't remember what they said or if they said anything. We went back into the bedroom and I don't know what happened next. But the next thing I knew they were gone and I was left at home with my little sister and little brother and my Pastor's wife.
I made some phone calls, to my sister in college to tell her to come and to my God parents. Then the phone started ringing. Would you believe reporters were calling to see if it was true that his plane crashed? Reporters, calling the possible dead man's HOUSE. My Pastor's wife was kind enough to answer it and kindly tell them to get lost. After awhile I couldn't take it anymore and answered once. I don't remember exactly what I said to him but I was not nice and no one called after that.
Then I cleaned. I always clean when I'm under a lot of stress or scared. I cleaned like mad so when he came home he would be proud. A friend came over to support me and we all waited. And waited. I had to keep calling my step mom for updates. Sometimes she answered sometimes she didn't as she waited and tried to get answers. My sister arrived but also went to the airport. My little sister was in bed and my little brother had been moved to my bed for more quiet. I was up and feeling so alone. And even though I was grateful for her, I was angry my Pastor's wife had been left with me while everyone else was at the airport. I knew my little siblings needed sleep and I needed to watch them but what if they found him and he was just hanging on to life and I didn't get to say goodbye?
The search got called off. It was too foggy and search crews were getting lost in the muck of the woods. My step mom came home for a couple hrs rest and I went and wrapped myself around my baby brother to try and shield him from the reality to come.
I heard a commotion and went into the living room as my step mom was preparing to go back to the airport. She was gone and I stood there trying to figure out what to do. A neighbor knocked on the door and gave me a huge basket of muffins. I still don't know how she knew. My little brother woke up or maybe he had already been up and I gave him breakfast and then I don't remember why but I jogged down the street to the neighbor's house to tell her something. I have no idea what.
My memory gets really foggy after that. I remember people all day, random church members, coming and just staying. The house filled up. I remember making sure my brother was fed but I don't remember seeing my little sister much. I remember being angry the TV was broken so I couldn't watch the news coverage and I remember finally finding a small one that worked. We watched as they searched and flew helicopters over the woods and I tried to get updates from my step mom. Then someone came over and turned off the TV. I was told I wasn't allowed to watch it anymore. And then I waited. Alone. That is, surrounded by people who weren't family as I worried about my little siblings and how it was effecting them that all these people were there and our family wasn't. I knew they had to be at the airport but I wished with all my might that we were all there together, finding out whatever it was together.
I went outside for some air and thought about putting my siblings in the car and leaving. And then someone came over and told me to go wait in my parents' room that my step mom was on her way home. I remember thinking even then that he was alive but really injured and it was going to be a long way to recovery. I sat on the bed with my siblings and my step mom finally got home and came in. She had her hands together and over her nose and mouth as she walked in and I don't remember what she said but something short like, "he's gone" I don't remember much after that other than my step mom ushering my little siblings out because I was, well, losing it. I remember punching my pastor in the stomach. When I finally left the room and went outside every church member was in a circle in our front yard holding hands and praying. I didn't join them but walked away to a small pocket of my friends.
The days following are a terrible blur of funeral planning, my step mom being gone dealing with my Dad's law firm, fights with my mother, the memorial service we had to have because they wouldn't release his body to us and finally the funeral. I also remember going to the crash site to dig around for personal items of his. We found small pieces of their bodies and his pen and his cross necklace.
Too many years later I sat in church tonight just like I did that night listening to the sermon in the moment that he flew home to heaven while I sat unaware. And tonight I wasn't smiling, I wasn't feeling joy in his or my salvation. I was just raw and angry and missing him and hating HATING sin and death and brokenness and it's effect even today on my family.
Abide with us Lord for it is toward evening and the day is far spent. Come soon Lord Jesus.
And then I saw his Suburban approach. I jogged part way across the road to meet him but something was wrong, he wasn't slowing down. I stopped mid road as the head lights in the fog made the whole vehicle glow like it was Elijah's chariot when I saw the stranger's face through the window. He looked at me but I saw nothing. All of time stood still. It was supposed to be him and everything would be OK. But it wasn't him.
He was supposed to be home hours before. He had missed church completely. The rest of the night comes in flashes. After returning home from my run my step mom was tucking my little brother into his makeshift bed on the couch where he had taken to sleeping and I showered and was on the phone with my mom while trying to do home work. Then the mother of my dad's law partner (he was also in the plane that night) called frantically asking what kind of plane they flew because there were reports of a small aircraft crashing near the airport. It's funny because I'm a worrier. Big time. But the strangest thing about that night is that, despite my moment of panic while running, I remember rolling my eyes as I asked my step mom to confirm the type of plane and then quickly got back to my conversation with my mom as if nothing was happening. And I remember seriously being blinded to it. Talk about the Lord's protective hand.
About an hour later my little sister burst through the door and announced "Dad's plane went down." I looked up from my spot on my bed and said, "What do you mean it went down?" She said, "I don't know but Mom is crying."
I don't remember the run across the house. I just appeared in their room to see her holding the phone with both hands like it might run away. She was crying and asking questions. I don't remember what. I remember standing in the middle of the room not thinking not moving not exisiting.
I heard a commotion at the front door and my step mom told me to answer it. As I left her bedroom I was intercepted by my Pastor and my Dad's best friend. I don't remember what they said or if they said anything. We went back into the bedroom and I don't know what happened next. But the next thing I knew they were gone and I was left at home with my little sister and little brother and my Pastor's wife.
I made some phone calls, to my sister in college to tell her to come and to my God parents. Then the phone started ringing. Would you believe reporters were calling to see if it was true that his plane crashed? Reporters, calling the possible dead man's HOUSE. My Pastor's wife was kind enough to answer it and kindly tell them to get lost. After awhile I couldn't take it anymore and answered once. I don't remember exactly what I said to him but I was not nice and no one called after that.
Then I cleaned. I always clean when I'm under a lot of stress or scared. I cleaned like mad so when he came home he would be proud. A friend came over to support me and we all waited. And waited. I had to keep calling my step mom for updates. Sometimes she answered sometimes she didn't as she waited and tried to get answers. My sister arrived but also went to the airport. My little sister was in bed and my little brother had been moved to my bed for more quiet. I was up and feeling so alone. And even though I was grateful for her, I was angry my Pastor's wife had been left with me while everyone else was at the airport. I knew my little siblings needed sleep and I needed to watch them but what if they found him and he was just hanging on to life and I didn't get to say goodbye?
The search got called off. It was too foggy and search crews were getting lost in the muck of the woods. My step mom came home for a couple hrs rest and I went and wrapped myself around my baby brother to try and shield him from the reality to come.
I heard a commotion and went into the living room as my step mom was preparing to go back to the airport. She was gone and I stood there trying to figure out what to do. A neighbor knocked on the door and gave me a huge basket of muffins. I still don't know how she knew. My little brother woke up or maybe he had already been up and I gave him breakfast and then I don't remember why but I jogged down the street to the neighbor's house to tell her something. I have no idea what.
My memory gets really foggy after that. I remember people all day, random church members, coming and just staying. The house filled up. I remember making sure my brother was fed but I don't remember seeing my little sister much. I remember being angry the TV was broken so I couldn't watch the news coverage and I remember finally finding a small one that worked. We watched as they searched and flew helicopters over the woods and I tried to get updates from my step mom. Then someone came over and turned off the TV. I was told I wasn't allowed to watch it anymore. And then I waited. Alone. That is, surrounded by people who weren't family as I worried about my little siblings and how it was effecting them that all these people were there and our family wasn't. I knew they had to be at the airport but I wished with all my might that we were all there together, finding out whatever it was together.
I went outside for some air and thought about putting my siblings in the car and leaving. And then someone came over and told me to go wait in my parents' room that my step mom was on her way home. I remember thinking even then that he was alive but really injured and it was going to be a long way to recovery. I sat on the bed with my siblings and my step mom finally got home and came in. She had her hands together and over her nose and mouth as she walked in and I don't remember what she said but something short like, "he's gone" I don't remember much after that other than my step mom ushering my little siblings out because I was, well, losing it. I remember punching my pastor in the stomach. When I finally left the room and went outside every church member was in a circle in our front yard holding hands and praying. I didn't join them but walked away to a small pocket of my friends.
The days following are a terrible blur of funeral planning, my step mom being gone dealing with my Dad's law firm, fights with my mother, the memorial service we had to have because they wouldn't release his body to us and finally the funeral. I also remember going to the crash site to dig around for personal items of his. We found small pieces of their bodies and his pen and his cross necklace.
Too many years later I sat in church tonight just like I did that night listening to the sermon in the moment that he flew home to heaven while I sat unaware. And tonight I wasn't smiling, I wasn't feeling joy in his or my salvation. I was just raw and angry and missing him and hating HATING sin and death and brokenness and it's effect even today on my family.
Abide with us Lord for it is toward evening and the day is far spent. Come soon Lord Jesus.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Order
This weekend I came up with an idea to add more order and peace to our home.
We have a lot of toys...like... a lot. I like toys. We even have, gasp, plastic toys. We even have...non open ended toys. But I think a lot of parents underestimate their kids' abilities to make almost anything open ended. Our kids don't get much TV to occupy them, maybe a couple shows a week, and since they're at home all day every day, they become very creative.
Earlier this summer I had a garage sale and sold off a lot of non open ended plastic toys. While I don't really regret getting rid of some of the things I did, because they were large and really really non open ended toys, my kids still ask for them even 6 months later!
So, instead of going on a crazy purge again I found these. I am going to, one afternoon when they are sleeping and otherwise occupied, go into the playroom and box everything up in these bins. I will leave out the legos, one large toy too big for a bin (we have several things like a parking garage, melissa and doug castle, etc), and one bin worth of toys. The rest will be neatly stacked in the storage area of the basement.
But even further I'm packaging up all of our children's books in a different color bin. We have sooo many. And while I know I could get rid of a ton I'd rather bin them up and put out enough to fill this little fabric bin we have. I can rotate them every week or two. I'm thinking simplifying a ton will make our days soo much easier and to have 4 o'clock come around and not have the house look like a toy store threw up will be so nice.
This change comes after a change I made in the bedrooms. We got rid of all our kids dressers and I bought each kid 3 fabric "bins": they have no lids and handles on either side. My oldest has black, my middle blue, and my third green. One bin is for shorts, one for pants, and one for jammies and underpants. They slide easily under the bed. All shirts are hung up in the closet. This cleared up so much space in the bedrooms, got rid of the problem of dressers being a disaster both inside and on top, and also made it so the kids can very easily put away their own clothes.
What changes have you made to simplify and organize?
We have a lot of toys...like... a lot. I like toys. We even have, gasp, plastic toys. We even have...non open ended toys. But I think a lot of parents underestimate their kids' abilities to make almost anything open ended. Our kids don't get much TV to occupy them, maybe a couple shows a week, and since they're at home all day every day, they become very creative.
Earlier this summer I had a garage sale and sold off a lot of non open ended plastic toys. While I don't really regret getting rid of some of the things I did, because they were large and really really non open ended toys, my kids still ask for them even 6 months later!
So, instead of going on a crazy purge again I found these. I am going to, one afternoon when they are sleeping and otherwise occupied, go into the playroom and box everything up in these bins. I will leave out the legos, one large toy too big for a bin (we have several things like a parking garage, melissa and doug castle, etc), and one bin worth of toys. The rest will be neatly stacked in the storage area of the basement.
But even further I'm packaging up all of our children's books in a different color bin. We have sooo many. And while I know I could get rid of a ton I'd rather bin them up and put out enough to fill this little fabric bin we have. I can rotate them every week or two. I'm thinking simplifying a ton will make our days soo much easier and to have 4 o'clock come around and not have the house look like a toy store threw up will be so nice.
This change comes after a change I made in the bedrooms. We got rid of all our kids dressers and I bought each kid 3 fabric "bins": they have no lids and handles on either side. My oldest has black, my middle blue, and my third green. One bin is for shorts, one for pants, and one for jammies and underpants. They slide easily under the bed. All shirts are hung up in the closet. This cleared up so much space in the bedrooms, got rid of the problem of dressers being a disaster both inside and on top, and also made it so the kids can very easily put away their own clothes.
What changes have you made to simplify and organize?
Friday, December 7, 2012
How do you cope?
I wonder how many women feel overwhelming guilt when they read Proverbs 31 concerning the wife of noble character. I know I do. I read it and I feel a knot growing in my stomach and a lump in my throat. I see how lazy I am, how uncreative I am, how inefficient I am, and how ungrateful I am.
I've been feeling that way this week. As any pastor's wife will know, Advent is a very...very busy time. In addition to extra services and preparation for them, he still has all his meetings, marriage counseling, etc. Which means that he's home maybe 2 evenings a week. This makes for long, dark evenings since it gets dark at 4:30 now.
When he gets home we have dinner, play w. the kids a little, put them to bed and then he works out in the basement. Some nights he gets home from meetings as I'm finishing my work out and then he goes down for his. We each work out for an hour on the elliptical. Then he likes to catch up on news, etc online. Then it's bed time.
By last night I was angry and hurt. I was lonely, feeling unappreciated, and guilty all at once. I knew if I asked him to let me get out by myself when he got home he would have in an instant. But I HATE that...when women talk about "me time" and how important it is. Find that in the Bible. I hardly think breaking up the family and leaving my husband is good. And yet, I needed refreshment. I needed comfort. I needed grace. I needed to be tended to after tending tirelessly all. week. long.
So I made dinner and we played in the living room on the floor with the kids, just rolling around, tickling, reading, etc. It was nice but I still felt empty. We each worked out after getting the kids in bed and then it was bed time ourselves.
And it feels like there's never enough time, the house is never clean enough, and there's not enough real time with my husband or respite for myself. How do you fill up so you're not running on empty without leaving your family?
I've been feeling that way this week. As any pastor's wife will know, Advent is a very...very busy time. In addition to extra services and preparation for them, he still has all his meetings, marriage counseling, etc. Which means that he's home maybe 2 evenings a week. This makes for long, dark evenings since it gets dark at 4:30 now.
When he gets home we have dinner, play w. the kids a little, put them to bed and then he works out in the basement. Some nights he gets home from meetings as I'm finishing my work out and then he goes down for his. We each work out for an hour on the elliptical. Then he likes to catch up on news, etc online. Then it's bed time.
By last night I was angry and hurt. I was lonely, feeling unappreciated, and guilty all at once. I knew if I asked him to let me get out by myself when he got home he would have in an instant. But I HATE that...when women talk about "me time" and how important it is. Find that in the Bible. I hardly think breaking up the family and leaving my husband is good. And yet, I needed refreshment. I needed comfort. I needed grace. I needed to be tended to after tending tirelessly all. week. long.
So I made dinner and we played in the living room on the floor with the kids, just rolling around, tickling, reading, etc. It was nice but I still felt empty. We each worked out after getting the kids in bed and then it was bed time ourselves.
And it feels like there's never enough time, the house is never clean enough, and there's not enough real time with my husband or respite for myself. How do you fill up so you're not running on empty without leaving your family?
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Salvation unto us has Come...
By God's free grace and favor.
I know this. I say I know this. I try to know this.
But I realized today that often in my actions I act like salvation comes through my children and their behavior.
I find myself getting embarrassed when my kids misbehave in public. Why do they do this? We train so fervently at home and work so hard and love so sweetly and then we get in public and they fall apart. And in utter frustration I feel broken and defeated and angry. I feel like it's a reflection on me, on my mothering, and on the state of our salvation and piety.
Ah, but what is piety? It is a gift and outpouring of the Holy Spirit and His Goodness, not of myself nor of my children.
I suppose when we understand this it takes the pressure off, gives us a chance to repent and have mercy on our fellow sinner and seek together for more compassionate and more gentle behavior.
I know this. I say I know this. I try to know this.
But I realized today that often in my actions I act like salvation comes through my children and their behavior.
I find myself getting embarrassed when my kids misbehave in public. Why do they do this? We train so fervently at home and work so hard and love so sweetly and then we get in public and they fall apart. And in utter frustration I feel broken and defeated and angry. I feel like it's a reflection on me, on my mothering, and on the state of our salvation and piety.
Ah, but what is piety? It is a gift and outpouring of the Holy Spirit and His Goodness, not of myself nor of my children.
I suppose when we understand this it takes the pressure off, gives us a chance to repent and have mercy on our fellow sinner and seek together for more compassionate and more gentle behavior.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
2 yr olds
I'm convinced two year olds are what we would all be if we weren't so good at hiding our emotions, thoughts, and sins. My first 2 yr old was a saint in my eyes. I would tell people, "I don't know what people mean by 'terrible twos', perhaps they just don't know how to discipline." ha. My second two year old could not have been more opposite. We later found out he had some severe health problems. That year and pretty much the entire next year...shudder. So my third two year old has made me marvel and laugh, and sometimes not laugh ;).
Some of the things my two year old did today:
snuggled into me on the couch
jumped on the couch
fell off the couch
sobbed to be cuddled
cried for food that he had already been offered
ate breakfast
prayed standing up in his chair
fell out of chair
cried for kisses on his booboo
told me I kissed the wrong finger
stuck his middle finger up at me for me to kiss
cried as we arrived at home school group because he doesn't like to be away from home
begged for a snack
snuck a big smile at me as he painted with glue to decoupage during art
begged for another snack
cried as we left for the park because he didn't want to leave home school group
watched a red eared slider swim asking me to repeat over and over his name
touched a bull snake, he was so brave! (this was part of home school group in a nature preserve with guides to help with the animals :)
asked me to push him on a tire swing
asked me to push him faster
smiled in his own little world as he flew on the tire swing
cried because he didn't want to go home
panicked as we were getting in the car because he needed to go potty
cried as he woke up from nap so I would carry him and cuddle him
jumped on the couch
fell off the couch
asked if he could have cookies for dinner
sat like a good boy all through "bed time church" (wed night advent service)
fell off pew after service ended
ran like a wild cowboy to the car
kissed me goodnight
oh how I love my 2 yr old. :)
What is this blog?
I sat in the darkness with my hungry nursling chowing down hard on my breast. I cringed as I heard my husband on the first floor retching loudly. When that man gets sick, he gets SICK. My heart skipped a beat as my second child began crying and I lunged up from my seat in the dark and said, "It's OK baby, Mama's here, Mama's here!" With one hand I held my still nursing baby and with the other I held out the puke bin. Suddenly my third child began crying. My second stopped puking just long enough for me to hold the bin out to my other child. I caught his then caught a second time for the other, passing the bin back and forth like a gravy bowl at thanksgiving dinner. My nursling was oblivious, though he did let his protest be known in squawks between gulps at being jostled around. Finally each child was done getting sick and I offered them sips of water to rinse their mouths out before tucking them back in and resuming my seat in the dark. I caught throw up 6 times that night before finally being convinced they were done for the night.
Finally I went wearily down the stairs with throw up in my hair and on my shirt. As I got to the bottom step my nursling began crying. Was it really time already? I turned back around and went back up for his 11 o'clock feeding.
My husband and I made a decision when I was 21 and newly pregnant with our first to be the ones to raise our children fully and completely. I would feed them, bathe them, take them to church, and AND teach them. I would play with them, guide them, and keep them at home, where they belong. Of course it was a lot cuter when I was a young girl in a pink maternity shirt looking at the adorable mommy with her ONE child on the cover of parenting magazine.
Now a'days I walk into a grocery store and people either go silent scowling at me and my brood or they ask me if I'm continuing to have kids so I can "finally get a girl". I tell them I'm not trying for a girl, but for 12 sons. My children and I bet on how long it will take them to back up slowly before running.
Motherhood is not cute. It is not a life of milk and cookies and cute cuddles. Oh, sure, those things happen, as do many other joyous moments. But by and large motherhood is poop and snotty noses, crumbs (actually it looks more like an entire trough was dumped under my table after each meal) and spilled drinks, pee-pee accidents and muddy jeans. It's sweeping the floor multiple times a day and swearing socks are either multiplying too fast but in singles or running for their lives into a dark hole somewhere nowhere to be seen. It's hair cuts and clipping nails, combing bedhead and decluttering again and again. It's calming the toddler who screams in the bathtub when you reach for the shampoo and teaching the preschooler how to properly brush his teeth without just sucking all the toothpaste off.
Motherhood is a constant battle against the forces of darkness that not only try to destroy from the inside out of every member of the family but from the outside in. It is labor, hard and furious, but in many ways it is refining. It purges selfishness and strips you down to your bones in desperation to succeed...that none may be lost.
But thanks be to God through Christ Jesus our Lord that we have a God more powerful than that darkness who has in-dwelt us from our Baptisms and will sustains us...moment by moment, day by day.
Christ keep us and Christ keep you and yours.
Finally I went wearily down the stairs with throw up in my hair and on my shirt. As I got to the bottom step my nursling began crying. Was it really time already? I turned back around and went back up for his 11 o'clock feeding.
My husband and I made a decision when I was 21 and newly pregnant with our first to be the ones to raise our children fully and completely. I would feed them, bathe them, take them to church, and AND teach them. I would play with them, guide them, and keep them at home, where they belong. Of course it was a lot cuter when I was a young girl in a pink maternity shirt looking at the adorable mommy with her ONE child on the cover of parenting magazine.
Now a'days I walk into a grocery store and people either go silent scowling at me and my brood or they ask me if I'm continuing to have kids so I can "finally get a girl". I tell them I'm not trying for a girl, but for 12 sons. My children and I bet on how long it will take them to back up slowly before running.
Motherhood is not cute. It is not a life of milk and cookies and cute cuddles. Oh, sure, those things happen, as do many other joyous moments. But by and large motherhood is poop and snotty noses, crumbs (actually it looks more like an entire trough was dumped under my table after each meal) and spilled drinks, pee-pee accidents and muddy jeans. It's sweeping the floor multiple times a day and swearing socks are either multiplying too fast but in singles or running for their lives into a dark hole somewhere nowhere to be seen. It's hair cuts and clipping nails, combing bedhead and decluttering again and again. It's calming the toddler who screams in the bathtub when you reach for the shampoo and teaching the preschooler how to properly brush his teeth without just sucking all the toothpaste off.
Motherhood is a constant battle against the forces of darkness that not only try to destroy from the inside out of every member of the family but from the outside in. It is labor, hard and furious, but in many ways it is refining. It purges selfishness and strips you down to your bones in desperation to succeed...that none may be lost.
But thanks be to God through Christ Jesus our Lord that we have a God more powerful than that darkness who has in-dwelt us from our Baptisms and will sustains us...moment by moment, day by day.
Christ keep us and Christ keep you and yours.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)