confessions of the spiritually impoverished

i have to confess that after years of being at home with four kids, sometimes homeschooling, sometimes just trying to contain the chaos, i thought that putting our four kids into school would magically transform me into a more patient, less frazzled, all-around better version of myself.with a wave of the magic school bus wand, i would become, basically, an entirely different person.

while the kids are loving school and i am enjoying adult lunches and major closet reorganization projects, the whole amy-transformation aspect of full-time school has been rather disappointing. i am only with them for a few short hours in the afternoon and evening, most of which is filled with piano lessons, soccer practices and time with friends. and yet somehow i manage to be just as impatient, frazzled and all-around disappointing as i ever was. plus now, i don’t have the “hey! i just spent 8 hours educating  your rear ends so cut me some slack!” excuse. sigh.

all this failure and bottom of the barrel-scrapping, this cycle of falling short, confessing and picking up where i left off has me doubting. not doubting God’s grace or mercy. or His acceptance of me despite my failures. what it has me doubting is exactly what i am supposed to be striving for. i always thought we were supposed to work toward being the best, achieving great things for God with our lives. maybe not a the grand world stage but each in our own quiet way working towards perfection.

but what if my best isn’t all that great? what if i am the minor league, single A player dreaming of the big leagues when in truth i just don’t have what it takes? i used to think that acknowledging one’s spiritual poverty would open up a treasure trove of spiritual wealth. that i could pray and try and read and then one day God would entrust me with His spiritual credit card. with access to His  righteousness and an ever-creasing credit limit, i would purchase storehouses of patience and maturity.

i know that whatever i achieve in this world is singularly, utterly, entirely dependent on God’s work on my behalf but is it biblical to consider the possibility that He is calling me to be mediocre? not giving up, not living in defeat but more accepting this thorn in the flesh and praising God despite His unwillingness to remove it. can i somehow glorify Him through all my failings rather than glorifying Him by overcoming them? does a life of repentance honor Him as much as one of obedience?

as i sit surrounded by almost innumerable material blessings, from my wool socks and comfy lounge pants to my well-stocked fridge and overflowing pantry, there are millions waking up to live a shivering day of hunger pains and emptiness. they were born into this poverty and will most likely die in it. who am i, in all my greed for God’s greater blessings, to assume that i deserve more than i have already been given? He has given me His love, His forgiveness, His righteousness. perhaps it is my fate to hunger for more and not be satisfied this side of heaven. maybe it is better to live in God’s ghetto where at least i know how much i lack than to keep dreaming of mansion i wasn’t destined here on earth. maybe it isn’t a longing for God that i hunger for. maybe i am looking for scraps to feed my pride rather than food to feed my spirit.

so this is my prayer “not my will, but yours be done.” that will, that perfect Holy will lead Jesus to a life of deprivation, to a cross, to pain and humiliation and dying. it lead Him through those things on His way to the throne of Heaven, to a place of great honor. may that same will bring me to my knees, Lord and someday bring me home.

face(book) to face(book)

facebook. for me, it’s like pringles and those little powdered doughnuts from gas stations. they really hit the spot at the time but leave me feeling a bit queasy afterward. not that i think facebook is entirely without merit. i enjoy keeping caught up with friends i wouldn’t otherwise see. it’s a great source for funny youtube videos. through years of being at home with the kids, it has made me feel less lonely, after a long day seeing that i have been “liked.”

but lately, i have noticed facebook becoming more of an outlet for people’s political and social views. nothing wrong with that but it can leave one in a bit of an awkward position. unless someone is posting something along the lines of “i like kittens”, there are bound to be those who are going to disagree. is facebook only for back patting and preaching to the choir? is there any place for real discussion between “friends?” i’m not talking about the revoltingly immature, over-the-top responses you see. just real and honest debate. if you believe in something enough to “share” it with the world, then shouldn’t you a) assume that there are others, well-informed, thinking others, who might see it differently and b) be willing to defend your position without name calling hysteria?

i can’t say i have ever had a discussion on facebook from which i walked away from thinking “wow! that was a valuable and insightful exchange. hope we can do that again sometime.” i have had knock-down, drag out arguments with guests in my home about topics ranging from which version of pride and prejudice is better (firth/ehle hands out)  to the role of grace in dora the explorer. these discussions left me feeling like i had gained true insights, into the person i was talking with if not the issue itself.

somehow facebook discussions feels like butting into a conversation you weren’t really a part of, like i am eavesdropping in line at the grocery store and then begin arguing with total strangers. only these aren’t supposed to be strangers, are they?

i feel like this when friends give non-controversial updates as well. like i am cheating, keeping up with friends who i am too lazy to call or email. “saw you got a haircut thursday. looks good!” “saw your mom has cancer. praying for her.” “saw you got a divorce. when did that happen?!?”

this doesn’t feel like relationship. it’s like signing up for voluntary cyber-stalking. i do the same in reverse. post a few pictures of our latest goings on and then don’t worry about keeping people updated on what is happening with me and mine.

sure we are busy. but i for one can confess to having spent many a precious hour getting my information second hand when i could have been having coffee with at least one of the people i was on facebook finding out about. maybe i need to be logging out of facebook and logging in to friendship. what do ya think? would love to hear y’all’s thoughts on this (just make sure they are all nice and in total agreement with mine 😉

 

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My hope lives not because I am not a sinner, but because I am a sinner for whom Christ died; my trust is not that I am holy, but that being unholy, he is my righteousness. My faith rests not upon what I am, or shall be, or feel, or know, but in what Christ is, in what he has done, and in what he is now doing for me. On the lion of justice the fair maid of hope rides like a queen.

-Charles Spurgeon, love this quote from him and hope you find it as encouraging

retreating

just wanted to share a bit with you about my latest speaking engagement. this past weekend, i had the privilege of speaking at the salem baptist women’s retreat in knoxville, tennesse. i have to confess to getting major butterflies of the stomach variety when speaking in public. speaking in the community in which i grew up added the pressure of looking into the audience and seeing my high school secretary who knew me when smiling back at me. but these ladies were so kind. it was truly an honor to fellowship with them.

the theme verse for the retreat was psalm 107:2 “Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story—those he redeemed from the hand of the foe.” the entire psalm is so beautiful as it talks about God’s deliverance of His people, His faithfulness and grace to the undeserving. i loved the fact that the retreat was structured around three things: worshiping God through music, sharing our testimonies and His word.

several women from the congregation spoke about God’s work in their lives and it was so interesting to see the common themes which ran throughout these powerful stories. here are a few of my thoughts on the weekend:

1) we are all Christians but unique individuals called by God to play a special role in His kingdom. it’s easy to start stereotyping and lumping people together but it was so refreshing to see such a wide variety of personalities and life experiences on display. from the young mother to the recently widowed, we all have a place at God’s table.

2) don’t get too wrapped up in the “order” of things. i was so impressed by these women’s willingness to let things run long and value our time together over schedules and structure. this is definitely a challenge to my way of doing things but seeing their hearts so yearning for the Spirit to move helped me to relax and enjoy the ride.

3) prayer works. i can’t tell you how often i felt these women praying for me as i prepared to speak. before each session, they were there as well, gathering around, encouraging me and helping to calm my jitters. their obvious reliance on the Holy Spirit reminded me that my fears are too often centered around my pride rather than God’s purpose.

i can’t say enough to thank these beautiful women who welcomed me into their fellowship. may God bless and keep you all.

how to love your teenager

if you had told me back in my days of diapers and sippie cups that having a teenager could be just as demanding as having a newborn, i would have laughed you back into last week. but i am here to say people, walking someone through puberty is no joke.

now before you recently post-partumed ladies get your knickers all in a twist, let me say that while my shoe-tying, bottom-wiping, nap-time days are behind me, they are not so far in the distant past that i don’t remember the energy-draining, tear-inspiring, hair-pulling madness of infants and toddlers. the demands of early motherhood have no rival. navy seals should be required to serve a tour of duty searching for pacifiers and listening to “wheels on the bus” a million times a day.

while young children may be an undeveloped weapon of war, as the mother of a thirteen year old who seems to grow an inch every time i turn around, there are other demands, emotional and mental, that weren’t nearly as complex back when barney was cool. isn’t it just like kids to go and change their list of demands just about the time we feel capable of meeting them? just as i celebrated the end of pack and plays and diaper bags, i get blindsided by new needs i didn’t see coming.

through years of interrupted sleep and endlessly monotonous days, a part of me retreated deep inside. it’s like a  part of my emotional, intellectual self was hibernating. sure, i laughed and cried with my babies. i answered their questions about the nature of space and humanity, but i also shut off a place in my head that was reserved for coffee dates with the hubby or girls’ night chatter.

i wasn’t aware of just how far i had retreated into myself until my maturing kids started to invade that space. they are no longer satisfied with superficial conversation or half-listening head nods. i took them all to the children’s museum, ready to lose myself in a book for a few hours while they discovered the wonders of dinosaurs and soil erosion. instead, my oldest sat beside me the whole time and had the audacity to wish to speak to me! can you believe his cheeky nerve? i found myself irritated at the intrusion and have to confess, i repelled his attempts at conversation with more annoyance than tact.

it has taken me a good part of the summer to realize what is going on and to start to do something about it. it’s like being woken up from a deep sleep and taking a few minutes to orient yourself. now that i am finally waking up to this new phase of parenting, i am actually starting to enjoy myself. i am shaking off the bed covers of my brain and starting to share more of myself with these emerging people known as my children. after years of feeling lonely and isolated by my role as a stay-at-home mom, i am enjoying our new found companionship. i have a feeling, like their time as infants and toddlers, this won’t last forever and is best treasured while it lasts. thank goodness their personal maintenance skills are lagging behind their conversational skills. once they conquer the kitchen and the laundry room, i will be totally obsolete.

the birds and the bees

as far as i can tell, and i have the owner’s manual to back me up on this, one of my most important jobs as a mom is to embarrass my children as often as possible. with my daughter, this isn’t too hard to do. wear my hair the wrong way or apply the ole “spit to the face” trick and houston, we have lift off.

boys, on the other hand, are different. need i even say it? i could fart naked in the street and they would hardly bat an eyelash. it might even raise me in their esteem. incorrect grammar, pajamas in the grocery store, shameless nose picking-nothing shocks this hardened threesome. nothing that is except talking about anything remotely related to the topic of sex.

now mind  you, it doesn’t have to be actually talking about the act itself. it can be about anything that might be somehow, ever so tenuously connected. talking about sex’s third cousin once removed is enough to send them, hands to ears, running for cover.

like so many superheroes before me, i try to use my powers for good and not evil but sometimes the temptation is just too great. it sneaks up and whispers seductively in my ear “go on. you know you want to.” and before i can stop myself, i blurt out “hey boys! boob!” it is like some specialized version of tourettes which is sad because i am sure my boys would much prefer i yell out a string of obscenities.

truly, i don’t do this just for my own amusement. as a parent, i feel a strong tension between wanting my children to see their sexuality as something precious and sacred but also something of which one need not be ashamed. my periodic outbursts are my awkward attempt to assure them that there is nothing dirty in the nature of sex itself. if their mom can talk about it (they refuse to come to terms with the fact that their mom might actually do “it”), then it must be healthy, right? like all those fruits and strange vegetables i am constantly trying to get them to eat.

as our nation’s views of sexuality shift and change, i want to be there to help guide my kids. i don’t want to just have “the talk” and be done with it but rather continue the conversation as they grow and mature. who knows, maybe one day i will be the one blushing and running from the room. then i can hang up my superhero costume, knowing my job here is done. until then…”hey boys! boob!”

Square Peg

for the last several months, i have been wanting to write a post on being a square peg in a round hole. i have been counting down the days still school was done for the year and i could confess what a long academic road it has been. it was my first year teaching four kids at once. first year with a new and much more demanding curriculum. it was overwhelming and there were honesty days when i didn’t think we were going to make it.

i wanted to confess to feeling out of my depth, over my head. i wanted to say that i felt like God brought me to this place where i needed to do something that i just couldn’t do. i kept thinking if i prayed harder or worked harder, He would wave His magic wand and suddenly i would be transformed into the serine, unflappable mom who always keeps her cool or the fun mom who says “the heck with the laundry! let’s play monopoly.” instead, i was the overwhelmed mom hiding in her room watching “antique roadshow” cause she just couldn’t take it anymore.

when i went to write this post about how God obviously mis-assigned me, i couldn’t quite do it. it sounded whiny and ungrateful. ungrateful for all the amazing times we had this year. ungrateful for the experiences i got to share with my kids this year. we laughed, we cried, we conquered pre-alegebra.

when i was preparing to have our first baby, jim used to tell me that trying to get away from the pain only made things worse. if you focused on, looked it right in the eye and called its bluff, it wasn’t as bad. it still hurt but you didn’t get lost in it; you didn’t let it win. i think that’s what i did this year. i kept trying to wiggle out from under the discomfort i was in, trying to reorganize my way out of it rather than accepting it as a natural part of the process.

i often hear people talk about how moms need to make time for themselves because if they are happy and fulfilled then it will trickle down to their kids. i am not so sure that happiness should really be our end goal. what if i am called to be happy in the pain rather than looking for ways to kill the pain altogether? what if God doesn’t give us the luxury of happiness but calls us to something higher? maybe all this time i was making the pain worse by not accepting it as what it really is, God’s hand molding me to His own purpose, the smoothing out of my sharp corners. after all, who is the pot to tell the Potter what shape best fits His purpose?

don’t take this as “therefore, we should be at home full-time, making ourselves (and our children) as miserable as we possibly can. i think God calls moms to all sorts of uncomfortable places, in and out of the home. in an imperfect world there are no perfect choices. only faith in a perfect Creator who we can trust to work on those rough spots out in our ultimate favor.