Why Obedience? Why So Young?

I am a young mommy.

With a young son.

And an even younger daughter. (In fact, because said daughter has yet to make an appearance into the world, I'm beginning to doubt that she's a girl... actually, I'm beginning to doubt I'm even growing a human. 40 weeks of pregnancy makes me feel like a giant tumor has taken over my life.)

But although I'm a young mommy, I have been teaching Sunday school, babysitting, and orchestrating pediatric therapy for a total of 15 years. Consistent interaction with children and their parents has led me to develop a nice little package of pet theories and opinions. But until the advent of Grant, they were just that: theories.

So, I am venturing out into the waters of parenting in a very new, unsteady, untried little boat of philosophies and personal mantras.

God is very nice to new mamas. Unless it's the case of an older-child adoption, He usually starts us out with training wheels. The extent of "parenting" required in the first few months of a child's life is fairly minimal. It doesn't feel minimal. It feels exhausting and overwhelming and completely impossible. But I distinctly remember, as I learned my baby's cries ("Ah, this means he's hungry... that means he's angry... this one means he's settling down.") how relieved I was that I didn't have to discipline my child, or redirect sinful thoughts, or pray for a prodigal son who was making horrible choices. Parenting starts off with training wheels. My first parenting decisions were when to comfort versus when to let him comfort himself.

Loving these "training wheels" days!

But children have a very tricky habit of growing up.

I still consider myself in training wheels stage. We're not having esoteric discussions on God's sovereignty and the nature of sin and grace. We're just learning the basics. Grant knows, and can obey the following commands: "No," "come here," and "gentle." He's also learned that "yuck!" means let go/spit that out of your mouth. (An early fascination with toilets helped us develop this last skill...) We're working on sitting still, contentment, and playing with one toy at a time.

I'll be honest, there's this golden period after he learns new command. After the learning curve, he obeys beautifully. It's like being in parenting heaven. I feel like a rock star. My child is so good, so well behaved, such a blessing.

And then the little sinner learns that he doesn't have to obey.

And things get dicey.

He starts "coming, " but then he'll stop 10 feet away. He hears "no" the third time I say it (despite making very obvious eye contact during the first two commands). He plays with the boundaries. He tries to see how far he can go before there are consequences. He is, after all, human. We all do it.

And this puts me in a very sticky, new-mommy position. After all, he is only one. Perhaps I should let it slide. Maybe just this once... I mean, I know that he knows what he's supposed to do, but maybe something is making it hard for him to obey. Maybe he's cranky, or tired, or hasn't gotten enough "mommy time." After all, won't we all be happier if I just let it slide? I do want him to be happy...

And I was forced to ask myself, "Why do I want my baby to obey?"

For my convenience? No, because it's more convenient to let things slide and cater to his every whim.
For public show? No, because the majority of our interactions are just him and me.
For just the sake of obedience? Not really. Obedience for its own sake is a hard task master. Like obeying laws in a dictatorship.

Why demand immediate, complete obedience from a one year old? Or a two year old? Or any child?

There are two reasons that I've landed on in my new parenting thinking...

1. Obedience keeps the heart tender. By requiring my son to obey, by teaching him and showing him how much he needs help to obey, I'm preparing his heart to accept the fact that he is a sinner. Boundaries and consequences reiterate to him that he is not perfect. He can't do this on his own. He needs help. My child is only one year old. But every night I cry out to the Maker of Grant's soul to save my baby boy and help him to grow into godly manhood. I, as his mommy, can help Grant be aware that he needs a Savior, by providing reasonable boundaries and guidance when he does not meet these expectations. No child will obey perfectly. That's not the point of required obedience. The point is a steadfast demonstration that they need the help of a Savior. They can't measure up on their own.

2. "Obedience comes before understanding." I'm currently reading The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert. In this book, she clearly articulates the fact that obedience often has to come first... before the emotions, before the rewards. We can't live by our feelings, we can't allow them to dictate how we respond. Obedience is paramount to emotion. While healthy and necessary expression of feelings is encouraged in scripture (read the Psalms if you don't believe me), they are by no means supposed to drive our behavior. His entire life, my son will be battered by emotions. He will get angry, lust, crave, despair... but obedience can save him from worlds of hurt. By learning to obey, regardless of his feelings, he can avoid the pain that comes from disobedience.

The entire book of Deuteronomy talks about the blessings of obedience and the curse of disobedience: "But if you will not obey the voice of the LORD your God or be careful to do all his commandments and statutes that I command you today, then all these curses shall come upon you and overtake you." (Deut. 28:15) God doesn't ask for his people to want to obey, or to be in the mood to obey. He merely asks for obedience. By training my son that obedience is not dependent on internal emotions or external circumstances, I'm equipping him early to fight his own sinful tendencies. I'm preparing him for a life of delighting to do God's will: "For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments. And his commandments are not burdensome." (I John 5:3) God's love is displayed by providing commands that make life more enjoyable. By teaching my child unconditional obedience, I am preparing him to believe that goodness and joy come from obeying.

Now, I understand I am raising a sinner. He has his own free will. God knows what his future is, but I do not. I could parent perfectly (I won't, but theoretically I could), and he could still choose to walk away from truth. But I want to prepare his heart to accept truth, to accept salvation, to accept his Savior. And I want to start that preparation early. Immediately. I want to keep lies of disobedience from building a callous around his little heart.

So, to that end, I'm working to expect immediate obedience. From a one year old.

I'm glad this is still "training wheels stage."

Because this is a big job...

When Grant Met His Best Friend, or, When The Whites Came to Philly

Grant is surrounded by females.

Surrounded.

Here at Harvest Bible Chapel-Philadelphia, we have a surplus of adorable little baby girls. They fill the nursery with pink, and bows, and adorable giggles and screams.

Someday my son will be very happy about this ratio.

But for right now, it means that he doesn't have a "best friend" in the nursery.

Granted, he's one year old, so, let's be honest, does he even really care?

No, probably not.

But when the first weekend of January blew in some old friends, Kelli and Corbit White, and a little playmate, Louis, Grant reacted with surprising joy.

My child has been largely oblivious of other children. He watches them calmly. And then proceeds to ignore them.

However, with Lil' Louis, Grant became totally, immediately, irrevocably attached.

He smiled when Louis woke up. He laughed when Louis laughed. He even started coughing so that he could sound like Louis (who had a horrible head cold that he generously shared with Grant). They sat together at meal time, they followed each other throughout the house, they played side-by-side. Grant would cry when it was time for Louis to go to bed.

They became buddies.

And while Louis will grow-up in Germany, and Grant will have to settle for being near a "Germantown," I'm sure that their friendship will continue to grow... Because when their mommies and daddies are such friends, do they really have any choice?

Louis was very vocal. Grant spent a large amount of time jumping and staring as a variety of sounds emanated from his more verbal friend.

Because don't we all just look at giraffe heads and think, "This should go in my mouth"?

So happy for playtime!

This was immediately before they both fought over the girly teething toy. Apparently, Grant is old enough to work on "sharing."

Buddies. 

Guess what we're going to do now, Mom?! We're dumping the blocks!

Grant: This is my Louis. He is my buddy. I will love him forever.
Louis: Dude, are you hungry?

I mean, did you ever see such an adorable lil' chunker!?

We enjoyed having the Whites (and briefly the Brownfields and their three little ones!) the first weekend in January. It was such a wonderful time of friendship and encouragement. I'm so incredibly thankful when this huge house can be filled up with people. It makes my heart happy...

A Whole New World... of small glories {Part 2}

I cracked my knuckles with a chuckle of glee as I started this blog post. It would probably be my signature move, if I were a mastermind, or an evil villain. (As it is, it merely served to remind me that my hands were dry and I need some lotion...)

Yesterday, in this post I talked about how being a stay-at-home mama caused your world to become smaller.

And the reaction was just what I was hoping for. Because I knew that "Part 2" was coming.

Many people responded with encouragement (thank you!), and many more reminded me that I had baby #2 on the way, and perhaps it was good for my world to be small. That perhaps narrowing my focus to just my family was appropriate...

And to a certain extent, I agree. My life is about to radically change. Two babies under 13 months is not exactly a recipe for tackling huge mountains in the world. While I'm standing by yesterday's post, and I still think it is incredibly important to constantly turn my eyes outwards, to constantly seek to interact with others, to not allow myself to become selfish, I will admit you all are right. I will have two very young children. My life will, per necessity, have a certain "smallness" to it.

Ah, but my friends, here's where I would argue: should my world ever really, truly be small?

Several years ago I attended a conference expecting to hear Joni Eareckson Tada. At this point in time in my life, I was battling massive health problems (again), and was feeling chronically demoralized by the limitations of my energy and health. Seeing Joni, hearing Joni, listening to a woman who has battled the physical world and gleaned so much fruit in the spiritual realm, was just what my heart was longing for.

But she didn't come.

Joni was in the throws of a battle with breast cancer. And then she developed pneumonia.

Good grief, Lord. The woman is already paralyzed. Couldn't you have spared her the cancer? Or maybe just the pneumonia? How much does one person have to take?!

She did record a video. As it clicked on, I was very disappointed. I wanted to hear Joni, not listen to her in some disconnected way. But God had different plans, and He used this testimony powerfully. My broken heart and tired body found new strength... Because this is what she said:

Especially in the night when it's dark here lately. When I lie in bed . . . As you can imagine, being paralyzed, gravity is my enemy, and I can feel so claustrophobic. Yes, from the paralysis, but now here lately from the uncomfortable side effects of chemotherapy. But lying in bed awake at 2:00 a.m., I remember something that helps me to endure. I learned it long ago when I was first hospitalized after my diving accident back in 1967. And it has served me so well these many years.

It's Ephesians 3:10. Now listen to this. This is so key. This is so critical. It says there that,

[God's] intent is now, through the church [that's you and me, through us], the manifold wisdom of God is made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly realms.

Okay, let me paraphrase it. Because it says there that God wants to use our lives—your life and mine—as black boards upon which He chalks marvelous lessons about Himself for the benefit of millions and millions of unseen beings. Angels, even demons, are intensely interested in the way I respond to my afflictions because it teaches them something about God.*

Listen to that. 

Read it again.

And again. 

Let it soak into your soul.

Every moment, every battle, every choice, every word, every thought... every. single. response. you. make. It portrays GOD. It shows the Creator of the universe. It highlights a glory, a picture, a story, that we won't see until the very end. You are constantly, without fail, without break, without rest performing for an audience that is bigger, grander, and more powerful than any you could imagine here on this earth.

And stay-at-home mamas? That means us, too. 

When you're wiping up peanut butter... and you do it cheerfully although it feels like it never comes off the high chair tray.

When you're disciplining with consistency... patiently although you've already taught this lesson a hundred times today.

When you're reveling in bath time... and delighting in the joys of your child, although you have a million things on your to-do list.

When you're cooking yet another dinner... thankful for the hubby that is coming home.

When you speak graciously, kindly, gently. When you complete the same task over, and over, and over again with joy. When you laugh at chaos and a disrupted schedule. When you sing as you go around your work. When you stop and pray over the little troubles. When you pour out your heart over a sink full of bubbles. When you cry with a friend. When you rejoice with others' success. When exhaustion doesn't dictate your response. When fatigue crowds in, but you still choose gentleness.

When your life is characterized by ceaseless patience, joy, and thankfulness...

You are proclaiming: MY GOD IS ENOUGH! MY GOD IS GLORIOUS! MY GOD IS WORTHY!

And thousands, upon thousands, upon thousands are watching you.

In the middle of the night. All alone. Surrounded by little ones. Those thousands watch you. And they learn...

Because, without the accolades, without the acclaim, without the publicity of this world, you are choosing to bring glory to God. You are making Him the reason for your joy and peace. The very nature and character of God are all you need. That's it.

And someday, when we reach heaven, I suspect that those quiet moments of victory over impatience, fatigue, and selfishness will be worth more than we could possibly imagine.

Fight for those small glories.

My world may be small. But the possibilities for proclaiming God's glory are endless.

*Follow this link for Joni's entire talk... I would encourage you to meditate on what this amazing woman has gleaned from her solitude of suffering. God does big things with human souls.

A Whole New World... of shrinking horizons {Part 1}

I miss working.

I love being a stay-at-home wife and mama. It's a dream come true. I love that sanctification and patience are easier to give out. I love that I have the energy for empathy. I love caring for my home. I love flexibility in my schedule. I love not feeling horribly guilty whenever I'm sick and have to call in.

But I miss working.

Not because of the money, the structure, or even my coworkers and patients (although they were all delightful!).

No, I miss working because of what is happening to my world.

It's shrinking.

Five days a week, I encountered human beings. A variety of people. But they all had something "wrong" with them. My job only existed because of sin and the fall. People don't go to the hospital to party. People go to the hospital to battle, to die, to grieve. Hospital trips are not on anyone's to-do list. Years of therapy aren't what any parent signed up for. A debilitating accident or stroke... no one volunteers for that. Addictions. Surgical malfunctions. Cancer. Pulmonary failure.

No one wants that.

And so, on a daily basis, I saw grief, struggles, pain. I saw humanity in the grips of the curse of sin. This is not how life is supposed to be. "Death is a part of life." No it's not. It was never intended to be. Death is horrible. Terrible. Depressing. Imminent. We fight it for all it's worth. It was never in our original design.

And I needed to see this.

Because I so easily forget.

I forget that people are hurting. I forget that our world is broken. I forget that pain lives side-by-side with joy. My world shrinks. My horizon narrows. I become more consumed with what's for dinner, than with what's plaguing humanity. I like my house clean. I like the laundry done. I like play time with my son. (And these all need to be addressed!)

But I forget that there is more.

When I became a stay-at-home mama, I was aware of the creeping shrinking of my world. Most days, I interact with two people: my husband and my son. That's it. On really exciting weeks, we go to the grocery store and maybe a play-date.

And I became afraid.

Afraid that the shrinking of my sphere would transfer to a shrinking of my soul. Afraid that my selfishness would grow in the comfortable smallness that was my new life. Afraid that the things I would become most passionate about would be nit-picking my child's development, Facebook rants, and new ways to make laundry detergent. I am very capable of this smallness. I'm very capable of taking all my energy and pouring it into things that do not matter. I can spend myself, and at the end of the day, have nothing to weigh in eternal scales. Nothing that brings glory to God.

My world is smaller.

Would my soul shrink as well?

It could. And it probably would. My world right now is unbelievably comfortable. There was a very strong probability that my selfishness would take over and things that should never be big would become all-consuming.

So, this year I have several goals... The first of which is personal, inwardly focused. I've set up a structured reading and Bible study plan designed to make me dig into God's word. Because I can be philanthropic and delightful towards others, but if I'm not first loving the God who gave me breath, I'm giving out pointless altruism. I'm practicing a "feel good" religion, as opposed to "true religion" which is designed to give God glory. So, I'm using my "extra" time as a mommy, and the freedom that goes along with this job to focus my studying of the scripture. I finally have time to be a theologian!

The second goal is outwardly focused. I want to actively seek to find ways to interact with those around me. I have a play-date goal (building relationships among the body of believers), so if you would love to come play, please just ask. (Or I'll be the crazy woman stalking you down at church. I have an entire Pinterest board of sensory play that I really, really, really want to explore!)

But I'm also looking for ways to consistently interact with women who are not Christians. So, I'm looking for a mommy-and-me group in my area (if trends continue, I'll probably be the only white woman at this group, and I'm actually a little excited to experience being a minority). And I'm researching crisis pregnancy centers, because I've become increasingly convicted about my lack of anything beyond lip-service that I've been paying to abortion prevention, adoption, and young-mama counseling.

So, that's it.

I'm fighting the narrowness.

I'm fighting with my mind, my soul, and my actions. I'm praying daily that God would give me the energy and discipline to passionately love Him. To take His love and grace and show it to the hurting world.

I want to use this flexibility, this time, this phase in my life to actively, with abandon, whole-heartedly love my God and love others.

Do you want to join me?

Frosted Window Panes... and plenty of presents! {Christmas 2013}

We had a simply glorious Christmas.

Scott's parents and sister drove in from Michigan. I still can't get over how willing our families are to make such a long trip in order to see us! We've had visitors every single month since we've moved to Philly, and you won't hear me complaining.

My Uncle Scott, a pilot based in Philly, also was able to have a 24 hour leave, and he spent Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with us. Of course, I didn't get any pics of him with his "great nephew," but we were thrilled that he was willing to join in our family festivities.

Harvest Bible Chapel-Philadelphia had their first Christmas Eve service this year, and my hubby was able to share the gospel with over 100 people on that special night. I cried, as he painted a picture of the wonderful rest and forgiveness that Christ offers. I continue to pray that God used that night, that moment, those words, to grow seeds of repentance in people in the audience. For me, it was an excellent reminder that behind all the glitter, brown paper packages, and family banter, there's a wonderful peace and joy in my life because of God's sacrifice and consistent love. Christmas was glorious, because I was able to rest in my Savior. What joy.

And now, pictures... Because nothing else captures Christmas so very well.

One of the five churches in our two-block radius. We had an "ice day" with Daddy, and enjoyed a down-day before the craziness of the season took off.

We were visited by an ice storm right before Christmas. It was gorgeous. Although, the homeless man watching me take this picture told me I was being stupid and that a branch was going to come crashing down on my head...

Someone loves icy walks with Daddy.

Christmas decor is up!

I don't think there were quite enough presents. (And yes, that is a push-broom handle. Scott's present from Trevor.)

I have a weakness for mantles around Christmas. I just think they demand to be made up in style. I blame it on the previous two generations of women before me and their impeccable mantle-pieces.

The tiniest of my four nativities, with yet another beautiful church in the background. We're surrounded by beautiful, but dead religion in our neighborhood. It makes me happy/sad.

I have a weakness for brown paper packages. In fact, this year, I wrapped with nothing else. I also liberally spread glitter throughout our entire house. "Glitter: the herpes of the craft world"--according to my husband.

Although I know people bemoan taking down the Christmas tree, I think it makes it that much more special if it's only on display for a month. 

The mantle. At night.

This is another infatuation I can chalk up to my grandmother. Her Christmas stairs always looked heavenly. Someday, I'll be just like Barbara. Until then, this is as close as I can get.

Not a stellar picture, but literally the only one I have with even a portion of my uncle in it. I was not good at taking pictures of any person other than my baby... Classic new mom.

Scott, trying out his father's gift of "Doodoo Head." Don't ask. 

Scott and I traditionally don't spend money on each other on Christmas. We try to homemake all our gifts to each other. This was his "humorous" gift from me... According to this article, and our subsequent Meyers-Briggs personality types, my hubby is a beaver, and I am an octopus. We found this so hilarious, that it's been a part of our joking back and forth for several months now.

Scott wrote me a fairy tale, complete with illustrations. It humorously (and then poignantly) talked about our relationship, and addressed my recent phobia of getting old. I laughed and then cried. I have a hubby I don't deserve.

Grant with Auntie Sarah. She was the ONLY person who obeyed my "toys that don't make noise" rule. And she was duly rewarded by Grant loving his blocks more than any other toy.

Helping Daddy as he begins the yearly tradition of cutting toys out of boxes. Classic Dad job.

Grant loves his new bath toys, and "Roland the Hedgehog" is his favorite. 

His very own "choo-choo." Every boy needs one.

We still haven't fully grasped the concept of unwrapping presents.

It was a lovely Christmas. And adorable little Bets, although she didn't make an appearance, and appeared contented to flip around in Mommy's belly, was also very generously gifted. Every Christmas serves to remind me of what a generous family I have (on both sides!). I'm so thankful for parents who have taught Scott and I to love sacrificially, and who continue to lavish love, even when their parenting job is "done."

13 Months Later... Our Miracle Gift: Grant Alexander

Thirteen months. (Because I forgot at month twelve. Oops.)

That's it.

30 days over one year.

Soooo skeptical of his new parents.

I've only had 395 days with my little man, but it feels like he's been knit into my heart since before time began.

My baby is growing up. He's starting to look more like a toddler, and I had a mini-mommy-breakdown when I realized that I didn't need to shop in the baby section any more.

Thirteen months ago, Scott and I were awakened around 11:15 with a phone call. We were about to be parents. We dashed to the hospital (a three hour car ride is agonizing when you're in suspense), and we met our precious "Grantlet."

I grew into being a good parent. Scott was born a good parent.

For the next 48 hours, we held our breath, held his tiny body, and prayed for strength and grace. On December 12, 2012, Grant's bio-mama officially signed us over as guardians of this tiny bundle, and my heart began to beat normally again. Technically, we didn't become Grant's parents until March 2013. But technicalities have a way of becoming non-essential when you fall in love.

This past year has been full of opportunities to wait. To pray. To cry out for strength. To plead for wisdom. To rejoice with thankfulness. To rest in peace.

First family photo!

And we've learned that God always hears... And He fills our lives with good things. I've spent more time exhausted, convicted, and emotionally drained these past 13 months, than I have in any previous 13 month period. I've also been filled with more love, joy, and delight than I ever thought possible.

Grant Alexander lives up to his name. He has truly been "granted" to us as a trust. We know he is not our baby, he belongs to the Creator of heaven and earth, and we daily pray that he will be used in a powerful way to spread the glory of God.

For his birthday, he graduated from his dairy,
soy, and gluten allergies! Yay, for real
birthday cake!

Character {at age one}

Grant is exceptionally quiet and gentle. He's happy and peaceful almost all the time, and his "meltdowns" usually consist of some subdued whining. He's our little "detail man"--just like his daddy! One night, for dinner, he was eating beans. Mommy spilled some beans on his highchair tray, and Grant picked them up, one-by-one, and placed them back in his bowl. His attention to detail makes him very receptive to the emotions of others. When Mama is sick, he likes to play quietly at her feet. When a friend is crying, Grant usually becomes very worried.

Grant still remains very timid and hesitant to try new things. He doesn't like adventures. He doesn't like excitement. He doesn't like noise. Fortunately, God in his wisdom gave Grant a daddy who doesn't like adventures, so someone understands our tiny boy's hesitance. But God also gave Grant a mommy who loves new things, so there's someone to push him to grow and not be fearful.

Milestones {at age one}

The thumb has become a recent staple.
And isn't that elephant hat AMAZING!?

Grant (in keeping with his personality) excels at detail-oriented play. He's got a fantastic pincer-grip that he's been using since 9 months of age. He recently learned to stack blocks (but he still doesn't like making them crash down, despite repeated coaching from his mother). 

This is snow. It is new. We are not thrilled.

He is remarkably strong, and incredibly agile. Although he is fully capable of walking, Grant prefers to play it safe. He has yet to shuffle more than one foot in front of the other. He took a tumble off of two stairs approximately 3 months ago. He has expressed no interest in climbing stairs since. His natural cautiousness is saving Mommy and Daddy a bundle on child-proofing.

He's "talking," but not as much as his speech therapist mama might like. Like I mentioned above, he's a quieter baby. But his comprehension is beautiful, so Mommy isn't going into therapy mode just yet. He obeys the commands "no" and "come here." And he's generally very obedient. Recently, we've started working on sitting still and "contentment," because my baby boy has never been very good at being still. Fortunately, with Bets coming, we've had lots of opportunities to practice in doctors' offices and during reading time each day. Although he doesn't like it, he's picking up on the concept very quickly, and mommy is quite proud of him.

Favorites {at age one}

But our second time out in snow, we are thrilled. 

 Our son loves music. Loves it. I've worked with lots of children. All children like music. Grant loves music. He makes a drum out of everything he can find, he'll "play" the piano for 30 minutes at a time, and he dances any time he hears music. His favorites are old hymns (just another way he is like his daddy!), and he'll bee-bop right along to "Great Is Thy Faithfulness" as though it has the most fantastic rhythm he ever heard.

Grant, our timid son, is completely, totally, and without a doubt, not afraid of water. He loves super-deep baths, and he'll plunge his entire face in the water, take violent headers, and topple backwards into bubbles without a single cry. He loves it. He comes up, gagging and sputtering, rescued from the bubbly depths by an anxious mother, and he just grins. Bath time is Mommy's cardiovascular workout.

But far and away, Grant's favorite thing is attention. He loves all eyes on him. He basks in the glow of approval. A disapproving look will destroy him, and a smile makes his world all sunshine and roses. He's a people person through and through.

Grant Alexander {one year}
photo credit: Erika Aileen Photography

So, dear Grant Alexander, happy 13 month birthday! We love you. Your mommy and daddy can't wait to see what God's plan is for our gentle, detail-oriented, people-person. But don't grow up too fast... Mommy needs her baby for quite a few more years.

God Doesn't Do Vacations

And... exhale.

Christmas is over.

The New Year has been ushered in.

And my house is empty.

This season has been absolutely, totally, completely, and without a doubt, one of the best Holidays I've had in years. I wasn't sick. I didn't have a malnourished, detoxing baby. I wasn't working, cramming for comprehensive exams, or having recurring nightmares about grad school.

So, I enjoyed decorating the house, making cookies, mailing presents, cleaning... It was like heaven on this earth. I am well aware of the fact that there are a plethora of women out there who hate being Martha Stewart. They don't like cleaning, cooking is a chore, and decorating is only fun when you have no budget. And I get it. It's the same way I feel about exercising and counting calories. But I also suspect that there are quite a few women out there who love caring for their homes, and are hesitant to say anything because in our current culture (i.e. the backlash against Pinterest), it's rather gauche and pretentious to say that you like maintaining your house and decorating.

Well, I'm saying it: I love it.

It's one of the most tangible, self-sacrificing ways that I can love my husband. I married a 1950s man. (Quite honestly, I think a lot of us women have married men from this decade, but they're probably a little hesitant to own it.) My husband is very, very easy to love. He likes a clean house, a hot meal, and a smiling wife and baby when he comes home. He has quite a few nights where he doesn't get this. My pregnancy and constant illness have served to keep both of us from worshiping this kind of ending to our days. But it's so wonderful to work hard, and watch my husband's face relax into a grin as he enters his "safe spot."

However, I don't think this love springs entirely from altruistic motives. When I was growing up, one of the verses that I memorized (more from my parents consistently repeating it to me, rather than a conscious effort on my part) was Proverbs 18:9, "One who is slack in his work is brother to one who destroys." I can still see my daddy's face bending close to mine, as he pointed to a half-attempted chore, and recited this verse. He looked so serious. My mama would point out where I had been lazy and say, "Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might." (Ecclesiastes 9:10) And then, she would ask me very quietly, "Is this all your might?"

Shoot. They are good parents.

I needed someone to consistently address the laziness in my heart. My selfishness. My apathy. And they did. Every job I've ever held, I was driven by these early lessons. While I consistently failed (hello, being human!), I'm confident that God used these early lessons to regulate how I used my time and energy while on the job.

And then I transferred to a less formal environment: stay at home mama.

I'm not going to lie. The first couple months were incredibly difficult. It was a transition that I was not anticipating having any trouble with. But I did. You can relive my angst here, here, and here, if you would like. But then, I found my groove. I regained some energy. I found things for my hands to do, and I did them with all my might.

I became June Cleaver.

You can laugh, but when you have a husband who equates a spotless house with happiness, it's very, very easy to join him in this obsession. I clean like crazy. I bake. I cook. I organize. Obsessively.

And I began to derive a certain amount of pride from my efforts. You see, I'm not a naturally clean person. I'm actually quite laissez faire in my housekeeping. I'm more interested in creating than maintaining, and I'd spend all day glueing, decorating, re-arranging if I could.

So, I was quite impressed with myself for turning over this new leaf. In fact, I became very, very proud of the fact that I could keep my house so clean.

And this is where we learn that God doesn't take vacations. It may have been Christmas holiday, but He wasn't taking a break on my soul.

You see, my house is immaculate almost all the time. After all, it's my new "job." And I'm constantly checking in with my hubby for a "performance review." But, God, in his sovereignty this holiday season, allowed people to see my house every. single. time.  it was not clean. Every. Time.

Once it was a friend who showed up early for a play-date while I was in a whirl of baking, present-wrapping, and laundry. (Imagine the visual cacophony of glitter, flour, and piles of laundry.) Another time, it was my hubby giving a house tour to a host of youth leaders after 5 days of out-of-town guests, and a Sunday morning when my child had pulled everything out of the medicine cabinet and strewn it all over our room.

You get the idea.

Each time, I was given the choice of how I was going to respond... I could be flustered and ungracious during a play date. I could be angry at my husband for his poorly-timed tour. Or, I could recognize that these negative emotions stemmed from wounded pride, rather than from actual sin. 

I was forced to stop. To think about why I have my house. Why I keep it clean. Why I want everything immaculate. Am I actively using my role as housewife to love others? Or is it becoming an idol? 

I'm very thankful that God doesn't do vacations.

And that He chose to teach me. Even over Christmas...