Lessons... that I should be learning

This past week has been a long, long lesson in patience and humility.

I hate learning both.

In fact, my general disdain for learning either or both of these attributes might be a large reason for my current trial. It might be. If God is, in fact, interested in the minute changes in my life and in grooming my sinful soul more into the likeness of his Son... then it might be a lesson I should learn. And it just might be a lesson He's prepared specifically for me.

Maybe.

Let's not get too hasty here.

(insert wry smile)

But, yes, God is teaching me patience and humility... I'm very, very weak right now. I'm largely horizontal on the couch, with an occasional transition to my bed. My body has lost a massive amount of blood. And I'm pregnant. Neither of those is a recipe for overwhelming amounts of energy. This past week, my husband did not get a single meal prepared by me (aside from a frozen pizza), my housework consisted of dishes, picking up, and sporadic laundry. That's it. And my motherhood goals each day were, "Keep the baby fed and changed."I didn't even go grocery shopping. Aside from going to the doctor. I didn't leave my house all week. Shoot. I barely left the couch.

I don't like being still. I like having my house immaculate. (My poor mother worked for years towards this goal, she'd be thrilled to know that something sunk in. They used to call my room "The Black Abyss."). I absolutely love cooking. Love it. I have a chair that's half reupholstered (another hobby that I'm falling in love with!), a house that's unpacked, but not decorated, and a gorgeous "studio" space that's dying for hours of writing and projects. And I have all my goals. My wonderfully outlined stay-at-home wife and mother goals.

Underneath this physical exhaustion and thwarted goals, there's an undercurrent of raw disappointment. I like for other people to see my life well-organized. I like for other people to be impressed by my clean house, willingness to serve, and love for my family. I work because I love my family, yes, but I'm learning that's not the only reason that I work. My love is not untainted with selfishness. I love to work, work, work to show how amazing I am.

But right now, I can barely climb a flight of stairs. Ah... humility.

So God is teaching me about quiet work. About a striving that doesn't come from physical labor. About diligence that's not reflected in how clean my house is, or how yummy dinner smells. My family cannot benefit from tangible, visible love right now. I am physically unable to provide it. (Aside from daily cuddle sessions and book-fests on the couch!)

So, I am learning about prayer. I use the word "learning" loosely. I'm like a barely walking, wobbly little baby deer. My mind is an undisciplined bramble of tangential thoughts. But when else in my life will I have hours of silent, still time, in which to pray for those in my life? (My heart is begging that this be the only time!)

When Scott and I were in premarital counseling, we memorized Psalm 131...

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;

my eyes are not raised too high;

I do not occupy myself with things too great and marvelous for me.

But I have calmed and quieted my soul,

like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.

O Israel, hope in the LORD

from this time forth and forevermore.

That's it. The whole psalm. I'm learning to still my heart through prayer. To serve others through prayer. To focus on my Savior through prayer. And, because I'm a very slow, slow learner, God had to remove all other distractions and tasks. Because I'm proud and conceited, God removed the props that were supporting my own glory, and is slowly working on me to seek His glory.

Patience and humility.

Not what I would sign up for.

But clearly what I need...

When You Don't Have To Understand...

God has been teaching me that I don't have to know.

I don't have to understand.

And I don't have to provide a unique, trite Christian answer to every struggle.

He doesn't ask me to grow mountains of faith, all he wants is a mustard seed of clinging to Him.

And sometimes, keeping a hold of that mustard seed, hurts more than I ever imagined.

I have been sick the majority of this pregnancy. Normal, nauseated, chronically exhausted sick. And I would give anything to go back there. Because something much worse has started to happen...

I have an autoimmune disease known as ulcerative colitis. My body basically reacts as though normal stomach tissue is some deadly pathogen, and my body attacks itself. It's a painful, embarrassing disease... When I was younger, I used to imagine I was chronically ill with some romantic, wasting disease (the side effect of too much Victorian literature), and now my imagination has become reality. And there's nothing "romantic" about it.

For the past 2 1/2 years, I have not needed any medical intervention. Because I was healthy when I got pregnant, I hoped that I would maintain the status quo throughout pregnancy. And for 20 weeks, I did. Then it came back. With a vengeance.

In the eight years since I was diagnosed, I have never had the disease attack with such intensity and deteriorate with such speed. I have lost massive amounts of blood in a very short time. All my tried and true remedies for controlling this disease have been completely useless.

And I'm in a new home, without my favorite doctor, without insurance (to cover this preexisting condition), without funds to supply medical needs, and without my mom. (I've decided you're never too old to want your mom.)

And another human life is depending on my body for her life.

This is terrifying.

And I don't understand why this is happening.

But in my fear, my distress, and my weakness, this truth keeps coming through: God is god.

It's not profound. My mind can't grasp profound right now. All I can think is He is in charge. I've been living in Job... And never has my awareness of God's bigness been so real. And you know what all that bigness means?

That maybe I can't understand. Maybe I don't see a reason. And maybe, just maybe, I never will.

But I don't have to. Because behind the scenes of billions of human lives, God is creating a story more vivid and imaginative than I could possibly imagine. And someday, I will see it. Someday, I will understand.

May I rest in my ignorance. And may I never grow angry at God for His inscrutable ways.

As Job said,

“I know that you can do all things,

    and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted." (Job 42:2)

His purposes are big. And they are good.

Back Home Again... In Michigan

Well, more than a week after our return, I've finally unloaded my camera (but still not my suitcase!), stocked the kitchen, scrubbed the house, and returned to normalcy. Grant and I were able to fly home for a short visit to see family in Indiana and Michigan before flying became impossible for mommy and miserable for Grant (the child likes to move!). We left Scott in Philly, and became seasoned jet-setters, as we navigated airports solo... just baby, Mommy, a car seat, a massive "purse," and rolling carry-on. Needless to say, we were relieved to finally land in Detroit. (I'm not sure how happy most people are to arrive  in Detroit, but I most definitely was.)

'

We visited "Granny& Gramps" Allison in Lansing... and Grantopatomus enjoyed all the attention (who wouldn't!?), and mommy enjoyed all the pizza and fun conversation.

Probably the cutest lil' gangster around. 

What on earth  are they feeding my little Boilermaker!?!

I would submit that no child's life is complete if there are not plenty of embarrassing bath pictures. And (of course) the quintessential bath picture should really  be snapped while you're in Grandmama's sink, playing with your father's vintage toys.

At this point in our documentation, Grant was still not familiar with any camera other than my iPhone. But Grandmama looks just lovely.

Heartaches & Boundless Love

When I first held my baby in my arms, he weighed 4 pounds, 10 ounces. My whole body was in knots as I cuddled, dressed, and fed my miniature package for a terrifying week in the NICU. I never really fell asleep, I didn't rest, my mind couldn't focus on anything else. My heart ached for my new baby. Every spasm of pain and miserable feeding, I held him, prayed over him, wept for him...

We left that NICU after one week. A short stay compared to many...

But something had lodged itself in my heart. Like a splinter of glass, there was a new rawness, a new edge. Sometimes, it quietly lets itself be forgotten. During long days of working while he was still so tiny. During nights where we both finally fell into an exhausted sleep. During those times... I forgot.

And then he smiled at me.

He had his first belly laugh.

He needed a sick-boy mommy cuddle time.

He got fatter.

And bigger.

His personality begins to peep through.

In those moments, I remember. And the ache returns. My heart aches over the little life entrusted to me. Every joy fills me with gladness, every sorrow makes me cry, my heart longs after my baby. 

And this is but a shadow of God's aching and longing for you.

In the New Testament, God is referred to as "our father" or "the father" over and over and over again. The phrase "grace and peace to you from God our Father" occurrs nine times (in my brief search through the ESV translation alone).

The Bible is a relatively short book. It is our guide in this life. Think of all the things God could have possibly wanted to cram into it: "don't do this," "make sure you do this," "remember such-and-such."

But in this short book, God chose to refer to himself as our father again and again. And as our Father, He sent blessings of grace and peace. Again and again.

If I, a fragile, fallible human parent, feel the aching of sacrificial love for my small son (and unborn baby girl), then how much more so is God's infinite aching after us, His adopted sons and daughters? He gave the perfect sacrifice to save us. He equipped us with everything we needed to become like His perfect son, Christ. And He watches our daily struggles, our fight on this earth, with the aching and longing that we would fully realize the grace and peace He so freely offers.

Revel in belonging to a God of whom it is written:

"Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens."

Because with this boundless love... He loves you.

My New List And My New Happiness

Several weeks ago, when I was feeling particularly horrible and barely able to get off the couch, I began to wonder how on earth I would get everything done. While being a stay-at-home is markedly less stressful than corralling autistic three-year olds every day, there is (nonetheless) a to-do list.

And mine was getting longer.

I would rush around one day like crazy, be couch-ridden the next, all the while with a niggling suspicion that I wasn't doing a good job loving my husband or child...

A pithy saying kept ringing in my ears: "Never let the urgent crowd out the important."

I didn't know how, but I had a sneaking suspicion that I was letting the urgent drown out what was truly important.

And so, I came up with a plan.

A list.

I had made lists before, but this was a new list. And this one was very simple. Every day it stayed the same. And every day it provided the structure needed to address the variation in my new routine, while simultaneously providing a framework to remember "the important."

It's been several weeks, and my success with my list is variable, although, I will say that I'm a happier, calmer wife/mommy.

This is my list:
1. Show love to my Savior
2. Show love to my husband
3. Show love to my baby
4. Be a good steward of this house
5. Be a good steward of my talents/employment
6. Show love to others.

Each day, many of the other things I need to get done slip right into these categories... I fold laundry and iron dress shirts, because I know that is showing love to my hubby. But maybe I do a smidge more... maybe I also make some pumpkin muffins on a whim. Because the word "love" is in my list, and going the extra mile for those I love is much different from crossing off an item on my to-do list.

Depending on the day, one category may get a more time-intensive task than the others. On days when I'm sick, the tasks in each category get shorter, but they still exist. Each category still gets filled... As seen below:

1. Show love to my Savior...by spending 15 minutes in prayer before breakfast
2. Show love to my husband... by cleaning out his sock drawer, putting away summer clothes, and hiding a note somewhere.
3. Show love to my baby... by introducing him to a half hour of bubble playtime!
4. Be a good steward of this house... by sweeping and mopping the floors.

And someone was once afraid of water!

5. Be a good steward of my talents/employment... by practicing the piano, and sending a follow-up email to new boss.
6. Show love to others... write on _________'s Facebook wall and tell her what I've seen/been encouraged by.


But what I love most is that my list is forcing me to enjoy the relationships around me in tangible ways. I want my wee baby boy to grow up knowing that he is an incredibly important part of my day, and that I am never too busy for him. I want my hubby to know that he is the forever love of my life. And I want my relationship with my Savior to deepen on a daily basis.

Unfortunately, I often want all those things, but lose sight of the daily practices I need to utilize in order to see these blessings fulfilled in my life.

We were so wet and muddy after this adventure that we needed another bath!

My little bundle of delight (who takes so much work that I was forgetting to have fun with him) has loved his new mommy play time. Sometimes it's just 10 minutes of crazy cuddles, or sometimes it's hours of water fun...



I'm so blessed to be his mommy!
I'm so blessed to have this amazing life...

Lord, help me to be a good steward of these blessings.

And Wee Squidgee Is A...

I am completely surprised. And I have no idea what I will call this little pink doll. As soon as I saw her, all the names I HAD thought I liked flew right out the window...

But I am sure of one thing... Scott will be an amazing daddy to "Baby Squidgette." (And these are the only two pink things we own... I don't have a lot of pink, and that color hasn't really come out in Grant's wardrobe. I know. Shocker.)

Loud Singing & A Bloody Sacrifice.

The spiced cider candle is flickering. Toasty pumpkin muffins are cooling on the counter. Baby is sleeping, the dishwasher is humming, and I'm curled up in my favorite bedraggled sweater listening to soothing African-style easy listening nothingness.

Today is a day of rest.

The beginning of a fresh week of battles.

But today is not about those battles. Today is about praise. Worship. Rest. Reveling in God's glory.

And today I got to do that...

The past five months, as I've struggled to remain upright, to focus, and to get through each day, Sunday was not a day of rest. Sunday was a day of more work: get up, try to look decent, clean up baby, get out the door, smile, nod, try to worship, smile, nod, remember people's names...

Worship was hard. Worship was work. Worship was draining. Exhausting. Drying. Saturation in the grace of God didn't feel real. I went through the motions.

I wasn't mad. Or depressed. Or bitter.

I was just exhausted. Drained. And barely able to focus on the words I was singing and the truth I was hearing.

One Sunday morning, as I (tiredly) wrapped Velcro rollers around another strand of impossibly frizzy hair, I began to hum... "We bring a sacrifice of praise into the house of The Lord..." And then it hit me:

My worship is to be a sacrifice.

Think about that phrase. Just think.

Worship. A sacrifice. 

A brutal, blood-spilling, emotion-draining, laying down on the alter. My worship. Slitting the throat. Burning the carcass. My worship. Gory. Bloody. Painful.

A sacrifice.

Not an emotional high. Not a feel-good fest. (Not that it isn't wonderful when God gives those moments...) But my worship should be an act of obedience. Whole-hearted willingness to shout my God's glory and revel in His Word.

Regardless of my fatigue.

Regardless of my pain.

Regardless of fears, broken relationships, betrayal, apathy, anger, or boredom.

Worship.

Set aside thoughts of you.

Focus on your Savior.

And pour out the blood of sacrificial worship.

Such abandonment for the glory of God does not return to you empty. And today God allowed peace and happiness as I sang each line and listened to each word... Focusing on the sacrifice resulted in wonderful joy.

"... let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name. Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God." (Hebrews 13:15b-16)