Wednesday, May 22, 2013

The Beautiful Mundane

I have a photographer coming over this afternoon to shoot a "story telling" session in my home. This means that she will be capturing our lives exactly as they are. No posing, no make-up, no matching outfits.

I cringe a little, because my house isn't exactly pristine: stacks of papers are awaiting their home in the filing cabinet, dishes are dirty, and my son needs a haircut. But, well, that's kind of a highlight for this type of thing. This is my life as a mom. Gritty. Messy. Real.

All morning, I've been resisting the urge to "fix" the surface things in my world so that we can look better. But one of the core pillars of my heart is "authenticity." So I can embrace this. Deep breaths. Messy is okay. Imperfection is o--kay.

Actually, the more I think about that, the more excited I feel. I've been looking around my home and falling in love with the ordinary things about my life. There are literally a dozen toothbrushes in my bathroom (if you don't know, we own our home with another family). My daughter has about nine art projects lying on our counter (so they can dry. . . 3 days ago). Naked baby dolls are scattered everywhere. My fridge has a billion kiddish magnets stuck to it.

Today, the usual annoyances are being brought into a new light of appreciation for the speeding moments I'm living in. I can't cook without someone hanging on my leg. I can't go to the bathroom without an audience (or tears behind the closed door). If I want to shower alone, I need to be awake before 6 a.m.

I had a baby just yesterday, and she's turning 7 in August. The cliche is true: "The days are long, but the time is short." That baby brought some looooong days.

Twenty years will go by in the blink of an eye, and this time of toddler, first-grader, and all-boy will be a vague memory. No more catching worms, running in the sprinkler, digging up the yard with toy tractors, riding bikes down the hill, or chubby fistfuls of Play-Doh at my table. Miscellaneous still shots of random moments would be all we had.

But after tonight, I will have a capsule of exactly how things look right now including bed time routines, the faces around our dinner table, and the fights over homework.

This "every day" deal really is a beautiful thing. And it's passing me by like a careless breeze.

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Day By Day

I went for a run this morning. The last time I did that, I was in my second trimester, it was after completing a half marathon, and. . . it was nearly 3 years ago. Needless to say, taking the 2-mile loop was biting off a little more than I could chew. Or. . . run?

Anyway, once I was finished and hacked the film from my lungs, I felt great. I was doing the right thing for my body, I could feel that weird mix of pain and awesomeness that only comes from exercising, and it just felt good to be "back in the saddle." But the strangest thing happened.

When I squeezed into my [shrinking] jeans, they were still hard to zip. That can't be right. I worked hard on my run, sweating and burning calories. I ate a healthy breakfast. I drank a glass of water. I should be thinner!!!

Yes, I realize how illogical that argument is. But it doesn't change my feeling that I should see immediate change.

Maybe this is over-thinking things, but I considered how this relates to the Christian life. Sometimes I'll have an awesome time in the presence of God and feel like I can overcome any obstacle. I can be like Jesus. But within hours (or. . . often just minutes) of this motivating time, I am back to yelling at my kids, being short with my husband, and complaining about insignificant things.

I have heard people use the term "exercise" when it comes to using their faith. I'm not sure I had ever thought of it before in the way of using repetition to build one's self up. One of Webster's many definitions for the word exercise is:

"something performed or practiced in order to develop, improve, or display a specific capability or skill."

I think it's just a good reminder that we need to get alone and meet daily with the Lord. We cannot understand & know Him, deepen our faith, or love people better if we aren't breaking away from culture and tapping into His life.

Maybe prayer is awkward for you. Do it anyway. The more you do anything, the more comfortable and efficient you will be. I can't think of anything this doesn't apply to: administering insulin shots, riding a bike, playing an instrument. Geeze, you should see me play the guitar right now. It is awkward, indeed. And in these beginning stages, it is even painful. I do not enjoy the process of learning to play. But I look forward to being able to play.

I dream about the day I can sit down and crank out chords like anyone else. But more than that, I eagerly await the moment when the relationship I'm working toward with Jesus is complete. When I can look Him in the eyes as daughter and Father, closely knit, having been bonded for so many years.

And until then, I want to be so enraptured with Him that it pours into my daily interactions. But that is a process. And I'm working on it. Every day.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

The Big 3-0

Whew, just writing that title in reference to myself is like taking a wrecking ball to the sternum. Ack!

Over the course of the past few years, I have been watching each of my friends tip over the edge of 29 into the world of the age-ed (which sounds a little like "ancient" if you say it out loud). They all have wrestled with and conquered the milestone, some with more grace than others.

I'm not particularly "stoked" to be heading in the direction of arthritis, wheel chairs, and incontinence. But on the other hand, I'm excited to be growing up. I was talking to someone the other day who was 23. I considered my life that age, and came to the conclusion that there isn't compensation enough in this dimension to persuade me to return to 23.

It was where I stepped out of the working world and became a mother (If that landmark sounds rosy and idealistic to you, you either haven't crossed it, or you haven't had a baby like my first). We bought the house we're in now and began sharing our lives with the Schillings. We started our first La Crosse small group (at the pilot event, one of my nephews nearly cut another nephew's finger clean off with an axe, prematurely ending the night with a trip to the ER).

A lot has happened since then. I have watched some friends and relative pass away. But I have also met new friends since then (and held onto some of the old "keepers."), I have become an active member of my church, I have started writing a book, and I have gained an immeasurable amount of experience in the world of mothering and wife-ing. I have watched the baby butts I changed in the nursery walk across the stage and take their diploma. In short, I am enjoying the benefits of getting older.

I thought that since most of my closest friends are either just over 30 or fastly approaching to the mark, I would throw out some things that speak loudest to me about this particular age. Enjoy :)


  • A wardrobe consisting of more pajama pants than jeans
  • We remember when our mom was our age (although this won't be true for me until I'm *gulp* 40).
  • Half-way to 60
  • My hair is pulled back into a frantic ponytail most of the time.
  • There is an expectation of responsibility; people no longer look at our screw-ups and compassionately toss out the old, "Eh, you're still young."
  • I am neither an "old, boring mom," nor a "hip, young teenager." The clothes at the stores I usually shop at don't accommodate my birthed-3-children figure. And every other store is for my mom to shop at (no offense, Mom). Additionally, Maurice's no longer carries anything "cute," but only weird clothes that could only possibly look attractive on super models. I find myself asking "why do they only make clothes for 1% of the population?" And then I realize just how old the premise of that very question makes me sound.
  • I chase my 2-year-old until the end of the day, when I hardly even have the energy to get off the couch and pee before going to bed.
  • Wondering where my flat belly and smooth thighs (that I thought were fat) went to go multiply themselves into misfit clumps of matter stuffed under my skin-- like a pillow that's been washed too many times.
  • On that note, we all know what a "pillow that's been washed too many times" looks like because we've changed too many toddler sheets in the morning (side note: Pull-Ups are a gimmick).
  • I've had Spaghettio's, Oreos, hot dogs, and every other "kid" food regurgitated onto myself at some point.
  • Any dreams of being a doctor, lawyer, or anything else requiring more than a 2-year degree are pretty much off the table.
  • A 9:00 bedtime
  • I'm finally used to my new last name.
  • I was a teenager half a lifetime ago.
  • My bedroom isn't decorated with the latest chic fashion or pictures of my buddies, but with thumb-print flowers and hand-print turkeys and stick people saying, "I love you Mom."
  • My evenings aren't spent partying and hanging out with friends, but hoping the kids don't get out of bed AGAIN and mustering enough sanity in the quiet to make it another day without anyone calling up the homicide department on my behalf.
  • Crows feet
  • I have Goodnight Moon memorized.
  • I get to keep the name "Mom" for the rest of my life :)
  • I have a 30-year track record of a God who has never left my side-- despite many years of my keeping Him at arm's length.