Five Minute Friday: Finish

How funny that this word would pop up on a week when I can actually join in with FMF, because at the start of the year, this is the word I chose to pursue. 

FINISH.

Because I'm good at quitting.  I've done that my whole life.  This is too hard.  This is confusing.  This is potentially great, which is even scarier than hard or confusing.  So I quit.

FINISH.

Because sometimes I talk myself out of even starting.  Sometimes the excuses drown out all the reasons why I should, and so I sit out, on the sidelines, and I miss it.  Whatever the "it" is, the social gathering, the new beginning, the commitment.

FINISH.

Lisa Jo Baker is right, finishing is the hardest part.  Following through on what you said you would do, remaining faithful to something that doesn't seem to be gaining any traction, ending things at the right time and in the right way.

FINISH.

I'm 32 this year, and a mother and wife, and it just seems sad to list quitter and avoider as personality traits.  It's time to stretch and be someone who can be counted on.  It's time to do the showing up, especially when it's hard.  It's time to stay engaged with my family, with my friends, with my passions.  It's time to live the life that has been beckoning me all these years.

For Better or Worse

I recently found a copy of my wedding vows while cleaning our bookshelf.  We didn't want to use the traditional vows, vows I recently learned were written by Thomas Cranmer in 1549.  So we spent an afternoon looking through marriage books until we discovered words that fit the marriage we wanted to have.  And we pledged:

I take you to be my spouse, and these things I promise you...

I will be faithful to you and honest with you; 

I will respect, trust, help, and care for you;

I will share my life with you; 

I will forgive you as we have been forgiven;

And I will try with you to better understand ourselves, the world, and God;

Through the best and worst of what is to come as long as we live.

I like the vows we chose, maybe even more now than the day we first read them huddled together at a table in the bookstore.  At the time, it sounded like the kind of marriage I wanted to have, a life that was shared, open minds exploring the world together, with honesty, respect, and trust as the foundation.  But I didn't really know how to live the vows, or how much they would be put to the test.

I didn't know what the best would be, that in marriage the best is the absolute BEST that life has to offer.  I didn't know what it would be like inside that union of two lives.  When marriage is good, it surpasses anything else in the world.  It is better than hot fudge sundaes, better than blue skies and warm sunshine, better than sleeping in.  We all desire to be known in this life, and when my husband looks at me and tells me exactly what I'm thinking, when he correctly identifies my mood, that deepest desire is met.  He gets me!  When we are sitting across the table, delicious food between us, and my belly aches from laughing so hard, but he just keeps going, I have found a joy that goes beyond happiness.  When we find each other and our limbs are entwined and the world around us falls away, I am delighted that we fit together in this perfect, beautiful way.  And when that union creates a life inside me, when my body stretches and grows and he is there every day, wiping my tears and holding my hair and procuring the very food that my body is craving, I am cared for.  Suddenly this little life lies between us, a life we created out of our love, and feeling the warm weight of our child on my chest as I look into the eyes of my husband is the very best of what can come.  These moments come again and again over the years, the wonder and the laughter and the connection and the acknowledgement that we created that.  On my wedding day, I had no idea that these were the bests that were to come.

I was also unprepared for the worsts.  Because when marriage gets bad, it is the absolute WORST that life has to offer.  Once we pronounce our vows and triumphantly exit the church, everything in our lives is now in the hands of another person.  And each of us is imperfect.  The reason this vow exists in the first place is to recognize that something bad will happen.  The person who knows you best will hurt you worst.  The fears and insecurities you reveal can be used against you.  The shortcomings and blind spots you aren't even aware of will be exposed.  The person who shares your home and your bed and your bank account will be selfish.  It will hurt more than anything, more than surgery, more than death, more than a friend's betrayal.  It will break your heart.  You will read through your vows and it will make you cry, because in the worst they can't protect you from each other.  Hurt and angry, you will realize that the hardest one to keep is the pledge to forgive.  Because you have been forgiven freely and instantly, but your heart has grasped your spouse's crimes and refuses to let them go.  For all that lies broken between you, you will wonder if it is time to make the final break, the one from which there is no return.  Because if we exult in the best of times, how can we bail in the worst of them?

Mostly what I have learned is that marriage is often a mix of the two, like the chocolate-vanilla swirl ice cream that my son always requests.  Each bite contains some best times and some worst times.  One of my best and favorite memories is the day we spent in Gettysburg, at the Civil War Museum.  But we were only there because our car had broken down during our trip to Eastern Pennsylvania, and we had to stay an extra day while it was repaired.  Another stand out is the day we thought Michael would leave our family, and in our anguish we held each other all night.  Our hearts and minds were one in our grief.  When I was pregnant with Winston, Chris was making me laugh so hard that I started crying.  But then suddenly I was crying, tears flowing, loud sobs crying.  He was stricken and desperate to know what went wrong, and I was frustrated because nothing was actually wrong except my hormones had swung out of control.  We have experienced moments of doubt and triumph, of anger and love, we have lived through successes and failures.  We have broken our vows and we have upheld our vows.  We have climbed the highest mountains and we have stumbled through the lowest valleys.

As far as I can tell, that's a marriage.  It is fun and it is hard.  It is challenging and it is peaceful.  It is satisfying and it is disappointing.  It is the best and it is the worst.  It is ours.

Five Minute Friday: Bloom

I heard it again today.  "I feel like I know you so much better because of what you write."  Yeah.  I've been getting that quite a bit lately.  I struggled for years, putting pen to paper and never finding the words.  I felt dry and closed up.  It's because my heart was dry and closed up.  No one got to the deepest levels, not my husband, not my best friend, certainly not my family.

It all changed when I sat down one day and let the petals unfurl, when I opened up my life to the sun and the internet and the eyes of all the people who read my words.  This is who I am, this is what I've been hiding.  I was afraid to live where you could see me.  I was afraid of what you would think.

Now I don't care what you think.  I'm getting used to this public life, this exposure of the insides of my heart, and I don't like keeping secrets anymore.  So I keep returning to the computer, typing these words late at night.  I curl up on the couch with a notebook and it pours out of me like water. 

There isn't enough time for all the words now.  I have to make notes to myself to help me remember at some point in the future when I do have time.  When little people leave for the day and it's just me and my words.  Now I'm not afraid of being in the light, I'm afraid of wilting and losing this hearty glow.  If life is a series of seasons, if there is a time to grow and a time to fade, I want to prolong my growth and avoid the fade.

But there's a chance that there's time for all of it, time to mother and time to write, time to retreat and time to be present.  It's possible that the only thing I'll miss if I put down the pen is the feel of my own importance.  I'm still getting used to the openness.  I'm still learning how to live in bloom.

In the Tension

I first came across this phrase "in the tension" when I read Rob Bell's book "Sex God" several years ago.  In it, he describes living in the tension through the lens of body and soul.  We aren't animals or angels, he explains, but a mix of the two, and when we satisfy our bodies, we can't disrupt our peace of mind.  Likewise, we must keep our peace of mind without depriving our bodies.  I thought it to be one of the most true things I've ever read.  In this particular book, the tension is in sexuality.  Yes, we have desires in our bodies, but instead of treating sex as though we are at Baskin Robbins and must try all 31 flavors, we should ground it in a monogamous relationship that is mutually beneficial (you know, like marriage), therefore satisfying the body and bringing peace to the mind.  I thought of this again today as I sat in church and listened to a man describing a trip to a garbage dump in Ecuador, where people search for food to feed their families, and recyclables to trade for nickels and dimes to provide everything else the family needs.  Then I went home and looked in the cupboards (full), the fridge (half-full), the freezer (overflowing), and wanted to whine that there was nothing that looked good to eat.  Because, you know, I just brought home a trunk full of groceries two days ago.  How can I sit in my kitchen and satisfy my body, eating fresh bread and cherries, drinking cold water and Coke, defrost some chicken breasts for dinner, while these families to the south (and really, all around me) are going hungry?  How can I balance a peace of spirit with a tummy that's used to eating good food a few times each day?  I think I would stuff my pockets with ten dollar bills and walk through the garbage dump handing them out.  But would that be culturally sensitive?  Would it insult the people it was meant to bless?  There's a much bigger tension than the desire to experience fidelity in my marriage.

Parenting is another example of the tension.  Because we want to hold our children close and breathe in their special childhood scents, but we also want them to grow and develop and eventually leave the home we have so lovingly nurtured for them so that they can create homes and families of their own.  As much as I am looking forward to the start of school in about 5.5 weeks, I know I'll get teary when I take the boys to pick out lunch boxes and fill our cart with pencils and glue and safety scissors.  I have loved having them home with me this summer, I have loved our morning cuddles and our afternoon quiet and our long walks and outdoor exploration.  I have delighted in their kisses and declarations of love, a new thing around here.  But I have also cheered wildly as they learned to ride their bikes and enjoyed the ease of family outings now that they can help carry the load and stay longer at fun places like the amusement park and the pool.  I have had moments of congratulatory parenting as I stood in the hall and listened to the boys settle an argument and return to their play, because YES I taught them something! but Oh wait, I'm no longer needed.  Likewise when they get their own snacks it is liberating but also sad.  So I live in the tension of giving them the love and security they need but also encouraging their independence.

Tension exists where there is no easy fix, where two things battle for dominance.  Or tension is the place we choose to be when we acknowledge the duality of our lives.  Tension is hard; tension is good.  Tension can drain us, or tension can make us aware. 

"In this tension something beautiful and compelling happens...you find language to say 'It's great to be you.'"  Jason Morriss, Austin New Church

An Update on My Heart

I got more than my usual number of pageviews when I wrote about our little Girl leaving to return to her family, and I so appreciate the support and encouragement that you all have given to me and my family, not just in the past few weeks, but in the past several months.  This was a very challenging placement, full of highs and lows and non-stop work.  I felt the need to update everyone about how I'm doing, lest you think my summer has been spent on the brink of full-blown depression.

We said goodbye on June 26th.  I had been packing her stuff gradually so it wouldn't all come on one day, but it was still a rush to get everything together.  I wanted to get it all out at once because I thought I might lose it if I opened a door or pulled out a drawer and found something of hers.  Well, I didn't get it all, although I did get most of it.  There were some clothes still in the laundry, a few toys that had wandered under the couch.  But seeing them did not have the devastating effect I thought they might.  Instead, finding Doc McStuffins under a pile of clothes and pink and white sneakers in the basement made me smile.  I put the leftovers in a bag and was able to take it over to her grandma's house the following week, which gave me the extra benefit of seeing Girl again.  We dropped her off in the morning, and it was just Michael and me, since Chris was at work and the boys had VBS.  I thought it was better that way, since I could focus on saying goodbye, and I thought Michael would benefit from actually seeing her go to another house, to know that she was going to live with an adult who would take care of her, to give him closure.  Because the family was so scattered that morning, we took the night before to say our goodbyes properly.  We explained to Girl that she was moving to Grandma's house, that this wasn't a sleepover, but a permanent move.  She got excited and smiled big.  Then she asked me if I would be mad at her for leaving.  I shared on my facebook page the response I gave her, which is that I was only sad to have to say goodbye.  We had talked before about how she would always be part of our family, even if she didn't live in our house.  Then she proceeded to say, "I think Daddy will miss me.  And Michael will miss me.  And James will miss me, and Winston too."  We were all there and said yes, she would be missed.  We took turns giving her hugs, telling her that she was loved and precious to us.

When the car was unloaded, when it was time to get going, she didn't want to say goodbye.  She didn't want to hug us, but that's pretty typical for her.  I never forced her to give hugs or kisses if she didn't want to, I felt like she needed to have that choice respected, and it made her rare moments of physical affection mean more.  So we left.  I spent the morning with Michael, then we picked up the boys and went home.  And I crashed.  I fed the kids and got them in their rooms for quiet time, and I laid down and cried.  For a few days, I just felt this heaviness on me, this weight on my chest, and it was exhausting.  I slept quite a bit, and my darling husband really stepped in and gave me space to crumble.  He took our boys to the pool and let me sleep, he took them to the park while I lay on the couch.  Then he suggested that we do a family activity.  We picked up pizza and went to a park.  We ate together and the kids ran around and then James wanted to go for a walk, so I followed him.  It was exactly what I needed.  I needed to get out of the house, I needed to remember how amazing my kids are, I needed to feel love and togetherness and FAMILY.  Because this giving, giving, giving is hard work.  The appointments and the medicine and the personality differences and the trauma that manifested itself over the past 8 months took everything I had.  The boys have taken it easy on me the past few weeks, they have been pretty calm and good to each other and very loving to me.  I feel like there is room for them again, on my lap, in my arms, they are filling up the silence the Girl left with their funny observations and silly games, and they are my joy.

Not many people get this experience, I think, of adding a fourth child and then reverting back to a family of five within the year.  Because what's interesting is that we got used to it, how much food to make, how much time to allot for, how to do baths and dentist appointments and school drop offs.  So now there is all this time, this space, this freedom.  The boys are pretty low maintenance.  They are content to hang out in their jammies, to watch movies or run around the yard catching bugs.  They don't really fight, they don't cry too much, overall the drama has pretty much gone away around here.  There is an element of relief to this saying goodbye that has gotten me through.

Although they don't talk about it much, I think the kids notice her absence too.  I noticed the day after she left how they had abandoned our rules for being fully clothed around the house.  A DAY people.  After almost a year of having a sister, they were in their underwear, shirts off, penises hanging out on the couch(that one I nipped in the bud, because the Girl might be gone, but Mommy has no desire to see it either).  A week after she had left, we went swimming, and as we were pulling out of the driveway, Winston, suddenly in a panic, said, "We forgot the Girl!  There are supposed to be six of us!"  We explained again that she didn't live with us anymore, that it was five again, and everyone was in the car who needed to be there.  I still see and hear her in Michael, which I figured he would be the kid who was most influenced by her.  But without her to feed off of, to egg him on, even Mikey is calming down.

I mentioned in the previous post how we had just hung our family picture with all of us in it when I got the call that she was leaving.  I then printed out some candids I had taken recently, and filled some new frames with images of our beautiful children, our family, and hung them on the walls.  I find that I like glancing across the room and seeing her huge smile, and remembering that even though it was hard, it was good too.  I think of her leaning against my shoulder while I read stories, how we held hands and prayed at night, all the times I carried her and tickled her and swung her around.  And I'm grateful for the time I got to spend as her mom.

PS-- No more ethnic hair care dilemmas.  That's what I'm most glad to be done with.

Nature: Penguins

I had a thought a few months ago about Nature.  I was outside with the kids, marveling at all that is growing around us, the annual changes that occur in our own yard, and I thought about God.  I thought about how he created us all, this earth that we are meant to share and preserve and derive our sustenance from.  And I thought about how it is like the Cliff's Notes if you are curious about how God thinks and works and what He likes and what He doesn't like.

Remember a few years back when everyone was obsessed with penguins?  There was the penguin movie, the one where Morgan Freeman narrated the lives of adorable little Antarctic explorers.  There was also the animated penguin movie, where they find their life mates by dancing to the same song.  There were the Planet Earth movies, which also featured penguins heavily.  There were cartoons and plush penguins and some sort of collector game, like Penguin Pokemon or something (I don't know, I was an adult).  I kind of missed the whole craze because it was around this time that I was getting married and pregnant and having my first baby, and there just wasn't any room for new obsessions beyond the people I was desperately in love with in my own house.  But a few years later, when my little baby was a little boy interested in aquatic life, I finally got around to viewing a nature documentary (or ten) and I learned about penguins.  They are interesting little birds, I'll admit.  They live in the coldest part of the world, where there are no people (except the ones holding the cameras? How did they get all that footage?).  They are birds, but can't fly.  And when they lay their eggs, the ladies take off and the male penguins keep their little ones warm.  This is the thing I want to talk about, the aspect of penguin life that stuck with me after the passage of time and the loss of brain cells.

So the females lay the eggs, and then the males sit with them to keep them warm until its time for the babies to be born.  All the guys huddle together in a giant circle, with the eggs sitting on their feet, covered by their downy undersides, wind swirling snow around them.  Gradually, the penguins shift their formation, so that those on the outside make their way in, and those on the inside move out.  They do this dance for a couple months, all so they can share the heat of their bodies equally, all for the babies.  This stands out to me, as a human woman, because so much of early infant care (not to mention nine months of pregnancy) is the responsibility of the females.  There's not much for the dads to do.  Back to the penguins.  We tend to think of animals as beneath us, since they probably aren't capable of complex thought and certainly have no verbal expression of language.  But those guys huddle together and distribute their warmth evenly...why?  Because they are a self-less species?  Because they care about the survival of their neighbor's egg just as much as their own?  Imagine if the penguins didn't share the heat.  Imagine if those at the center said, "Nah, I'm real toasty here in the middle.  I'm not scooting to the outside so someone else can have a turn here."  The penguins on the outside would die.  The eggs would freeze.  The ladies would return after a few months of hunting and find...a smaller huddle of penguins than they left?  Or would any of them be alive?  As the outer penguins stopped contributing their warmth, the next ring would go, and then the next, and then the next.  The group needs every member to contribute in order for them all to live, in order for the next generation to break through their shells.  These birds live in the harshest environment on earth, and its only because of their communal warmth that they can make it.

Ask yourself if you are in a community.  Are you sharing your heat?  Are you keeping those around you warm, or are you standing alone?  People in social support communities live LONGER than those who are isolated.  So find a support group.  Get involved.  And don't just stand in the middle, hogging the heat.  Once you have warmed yourself, start scooting out, letting others in.  All it takes is opening your eyes, opening your doors.  We need each other, just like the penguins.