Creating space for your soul to breathe so you can discern your next right thing.
No, he doesn’t have 76 toes. That’s the number of pushes I gave him on the swing before the others called me to push them on the tire swing. It’s really not that many, 76. You get into kind of a rhythm: push, lean, pause. Push, lean, pause. Push, lean, pause. It can be relaxing if you want it to be. On regular days, I’d rather be sitting on the park bench watching than pushing them on the swings. But on the days when I choose to live in the moment, pushing feels like a gift.
Spring is officially wrapping her sweet arms all around. I’m taking some days to enjoy it. I don’t want to disappear entirely this week, but I may post more photos than words, cuz you know what a pictures worth. For those of you who typically come around on Tuesdays to link up, Tuesdays Unwrapped will be back Tuesday April 6.
“A mother lives with grief every day of her life. Grief that her baby is growing up and won’t need her anymore. Grief over mistakes. Grief that time can’t be bought back.” -Emory Chance from Mary DeMuth’s novel A Slow Burn
Emory Chance called it grief. Some people call it guilt. I couldn’t sleep the other night because I was thinking of all the ways I could be mothering better. My good mom checklist was full of to-do’s and not one of them was checked off. I have a terrible habit of taking on too much responsibility. And of being a tad dramatic.
Shame rolls ’round and ’round my heart and head every day of my life. I would rather call it guilt because it doesn’t sound as embarrassing, but really I think it goes deeper. Guilt can be a good thing, a God-reminder when things aren’t right and an opportunity to change them. Shame is what happens when we let guilt fester and sink deeper and don’t deal with it. Shame seeps into our skin when we aren’t looking and takes our spirit hostage. And then she sits down heavy and masks herself as us so we can’t tell the difference between the two.
Shame waits until my defenses are down on a sleepless night and then begins to whisper doubt: Maybe you’re not doing enough. Maybe you’re not cut out for this. Maybe you’re messing them up.
And in that place, I have a choice. I can believe the dark suggestions that it is up to me to get it right on my own. Or I can trust that I was made in His image for such a time as this, to parent these He has given, and to receive grace and mercy from His hand.
(This post title is from Alan D. Wright’s book, Shame Off You: Overthrowing the Tyrant Within).
In less than 24 hours, my sister and I will be on a plane to Nashville. I just started packing this morning. I blame my packing procrastination on this fever that has weaved hot fingers through my kids like the black smoke on Lost (did you see that premiere last night?!) They are on the mend-ish and my brain is slowly making the switch from here to there. Now, let’s all pray I don’t fall off the stage or get toilet paper stuck to my heel.
We just got back from Disney World. I didn’t tell you how soon we were going because of all the robbers and arsonists out there who read my blog and may have targeted my house while we were gone. So thanks, faithful-reader-thief, for not stealing my laptop while my house was empty.
We had a great time with only two or three minor pull-out-my-hair moments. Ariel was just as fabulous as you all said she would be, with her tail and her rock and her long red hair. It took a day or so to get accustomed to feeling as though we had stepped into a parallel universe of happiness and cheer.
For me, there was always a vague sense that we were oblivious partakers in a sparkly dream-show orchestrated by an earily up-beat director who was watching our every move from the top of Cinderella’s castle saying “Here they come! Cue the Fairy Godmother!” And out she walks in front of us, greeting my kids with a sappy Hello, Princess! and welcoming outstretched arms. It was a little Truman Show-ish weird, not gonna lie. But seeing it through my kids eyes, it was pretty fantastic.
There are these little people who live with us – little tiny people with great big wills. And they walk around the house, living their little lives out loud, the joys and the sorrows expressed in equally high-pitched squeals.
They don’t always do things the way I would like. In fact, most of the time they do things extremely other-than the way I would like. Sometimes I’m surprised at their choices. Other times I have to remember they’ve only been around for six years or so.
Sometimes I want to lock them in this house at the age they are right now, surrounded by the safe that I think I control. If they mess up, I’m here. I see it. I can guide and correct. And even though I lose my cool sometimes, I’m still their Mommy and I know what’s best, right?
And in saying it, I am taken back to the beginning of time when our Creator put two trees in the Garden: one for fruit, the other forbidden. He could have just made the good one so we wouldn’t have a chance to wreck it all up. He was not afraid to give us a choice right from the start.
He was not afraid, eventhough He knew what would happen.
Love continues to surprise me.
I want to be all New Years-y and goal-setting-y and fresh start making. But that is just going to have to wait until another post because we are taking the kids to Disney in the near-ish future and I have no idea what I’m doing. My sweet husband has done all the planning for the past six months and now my part is fast approaching: the packing.
I’ve never been to the Magic Kingdom so I’m really looking forward to the castle and the princesses and all the magic. The girls are looking forward to meeting Ariel but they very much expect her to be in a tail. Not sure how that’s gonna work. But first I have to pack. And I am filled with anxiety about the whole thing.
Have you been with your kids? What would you say is the number one must have thing that I may not think of? Or perhaps your top three must have things? We will be flying, if that changes anything. It makes a big difference to me as I am super anxious about flying. But that’s a whole nother post.
I would appreciate any Disney advice you would like to offer: packing related, ride related, anything really. Ready? Go.
After a big weekend of too much fun, the common cold seems to have caught up with all of us. I will be busy today trying to find the gifts in the midst of the tissues and whine. We’ve read three stories already and it’s only 7:30 am. Here’s to forced family time and extra cuddling. There are still a few clouds on the bright side, but I’m getting there.
Been hit with a case of the unexpected? Look for the gifts in the midst of it and come back tomorrow to tell us about it for Tuesdays Unwrapped. I look forward to some bright-side perspectives.
In the midst of change, it seems like the new things will never feel normal. Until one day, you barely remember what life was like before. The day we brought the twins home from the hospital there wasn’t a grown up in sight. Except us, of course. Would it ever feel normal to be the mom?
Now here we are, five years later, with three weeks of kindergarten behind us.
The days of lazy weekday mornings and mid-day picnics on the lawn have already become fuzzy remember-whens. I’m desperate to know the new details, but I’m learning that asking how their day went generally gets me nowhere. Instead, I have to simply be, exist alongside, and listen. In their midst, little bits spill out and take shape and I catch myself trying to fit them together to make a complete day-story.
I can never quite fill in all the gaps, so instead I trust anew in the One who is writing their part in a bigger story. I’m also learning to stand up in the empty room of this new normal and find my place in it. Any words from you who have already painted the walls and picked out the furniture would be well-received here.