A mother in Africa knows that there's no hope for her 6 month old who is dying of starvation. Mother's instinct drives her and tens of thousands of other women to walk with their children--and sometimes the children of other mothers--21 days in the desert for medical care, food, water.
I wonder how many people could eat off the food I toss out every week. How many people could drink the water I waste while rinsing my dishes after a savory dinner?
I suddenly find myself feeling... guilty, yes, but mostly....GRATEFUL. Grateful for every morsel that hits my tongue, for the all the bills I worry and complain about every 2 weeks, for the messy kitchen, the messy bedrooms, the crying baby.
If I have bills it's because I have a refrigerator with food in it, and a stove that I use daily to cook that food.
If I have a sink full of dishes and a messy kitchen, it's because I've mixed together spices--more in spices than the African woman has seen in food all month--and oil and vegetables and rice.
If I have to clean the bedroom, it's because we have more than enough clothes that they are spilling out of drawers and closets.
If my son cries in the night, it's because he's healthy. It's because he's nourished enough to have strong teeth pushing through his gums. It's because he knows that I can eliminate his hunger.
God has been grooming me for this. I wanted a heart that would be grateful in all circumstances, and now he has me on a mountaintop of gratefulness to see the bigger picture.
I know that eventually I have to come down from the mountain, but while I'm up here, I will make a habit-- a habitat-- of gratitude.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
Just a number
I saw it on the license plate of the Ford Escape parked next to the cabin.
I saw it again when I checked the time while sitting in the car in front of Subway.
...And again, as an exit number while traveling down the highway.
222
It's not a magic number, but it is a simple reminder to stop and remember He is here.
He knows I need to be reminded when I get caught up in tasks that need to be completed, stress that I can't shake off, worry over my husband or our son, or whatever unwelcome feeling that is accosting me that day. And in the midst of the spinning, and even in the desperate seeking after Him, He stops me in my tracks with that agreed upon sign: 222. And then a double portion....at 4:44 P.M.
I stop...smile...breathe...remember that all these things are not bigger or more eternal than God. He loves me and will show me that He loves me in whatever way He can get through to me. Sometimes that's a shooting star, and sometimes it's just a number.
I saw it again when I checked the time while sitting in the car in front of Subway.
...And again, as an exit number while traveling down the highway.
222
It's not a magic number, but it is a simple reminder to stop and remember He is here.
He knows I need to be reminded when I get caught up in tasks that need to be completed, stress that I can't shake off, worry over my husband or our son, or whatever unwelcome feeling that is accosting me that day. And in the midst of the spinning, and even in the desperate seeking after Him, He stops me in my tracks with that agreed upon sign: 222. And then a double portion....at 4:44 P.M.
I stop...smile...breathe...remember that all these things are not bigger or more eternal than God. He loves me and will show me that He loves me in whatever way He can get through to me. Sometimes that's a shooting star, and sometimes it's just a number.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Choking
It was only 4 miles. Actually, it was a little less. Either way, it might as well have been 1000 miles.
I texted my friend at 10:30 this morning, "Do you still want me to come over today?" "Yes, if you could," she replied. I was thinking the same thing, "IF I can." Doubt began there, at 10:30 this morning, and it grew and grew. I tried to battle it, "Stop it! Stop.it. Stopit!"
By 3:00 this afternoon, driving 4 miles from home, then 4 miles back to my home became an unimaginable feat. Instead of driving the 8 mile round trip, I drove round and around in circles for 30 minutes trying to become used to the car, trying to talk myself out of this craziness.
How did I get back to this place? How do I move forward from here?
I've defeated this before. I know all the things I need to do and remember and say and pray. There is nothing that I can be taught about anxiety. I know my fears are all imaginations. What I fear has never happened, and that is fact. It's funny that I hide in my fears as if they are what has protected me this whole time. The logic is flawed: I feared. What I feared didn't happen, so fear must have kept it from happening. I know logically that if I had never feared in the first place I could have done it, and I could have done it unafraid!
I am caught in that circle--I am afraid of fear. You can't top that. The world and everything in the world has become something to be feared.
I know there has to be an end, a place where I can part the water all around me and breathe again. I've told other people dealing with anxiety about it. I have encouraged them with that because I had been there. Breathing. Living. Joyful.
But I can't seem to convince myself of that today.
I texted my friend at 10:30 this morning, "Do you still want me to come over today?" "Yes, if you could," she replied. I was thinking the same thing, "IF I can." Doubt began there, at 10:30 this morning, and it grew and grew. I tried to battle it, "Stop it! Stop.it. Stopit!"
By 3:00 this afternoon, driving 4 miles from home, then 4 miles back to my home became an unimaginable feat. Instead of driving the 8 mile round trip, I drove round and around in circles for 30 minutes trying to become used to the car, trying to talk myself out of this craziness.
How did I get back to this place? How do I move forward from here?
I've defeated this before. I know all the things I need to do and remember and say and pray. There is nothing that I can be taught about anxiety. I know my fears are all imaginations. What I fear has never happened, and that is fact. It's funny that I hide in my fears as if they are what has protected me this whole time. The logic is flawed: I feared. What I feared didn't happen, so fear must have kept it from happening. I know logically that if I had never feared in the first place I could have done it, and I could have done it unafraid!
I am caught in that circle--I am afraid of fear. You can't top that. The world and everything in the world has become something to be feared.
I know there has to be an end, a place where I can part the water all around me and breathe again. I've told other people dealing with anxiety about it. I have encouraged them with that because I had been there. Breathing. Living. Joyful.
But I can't seem to convince myself of that today.
Snapshots
When I look at people's pictures of vacations, of girls night out, of adventurous weekend afternoons spent skiing on the lake or hiking in the woods, they are always smiling. In my mind, that is a snapshot of the majority of their lives. In my own pictures, I am usually smiling, but I know that is not representative of how I view life.
I don't mean to complain, but only to explain. I just wish my life was mostly made up of those snapshots (don't we all?). But the reality is if someone could take a photo of how I feel most of the time, the photo would be terrifying. I would be curled up in ball in a cobwebbed corner of my house. If you could see my face, you might be able to make out the pupils of my eyes through a film of black. I would be zoned out, focused not on the rays of sunshine pouring through the window, but on the frightening thoughts that never manifest on the other side of the black.
I am so afraid day to day. Things were going well for a while, but for some reason, lately, I am unable to leave my house again. Even the thought of leaving the house makes me feel dizzy. It makes me feel like I'm walking on jello and that I'm being ever more intensely choked.
A part of me gets so angry at myself. I've been through this before. I made it. I fought. I didn't give up. But today, I just want to give up. I'm ready to throw my hands in the air and just say, "That's it! I will accept never leaving the house again. I'm ok with that." And I would be ok with it for a while--until I see another picture of someone standing on a mountain or sitting on the shore at sunset or drinking a margarita with their girlfriends. My heart cries out for adventure, to soak in the beauty of God's creation, to fellowship with others, but mostly, to NOT have fear.
I don't mean to complain, but only to explain. I just wish my life was mostly made up of those snapshots (don't we all?). But the reality is if someone could take a photo of how I feel most of the time, the photo would be terrifying. I would be curled up in ball in a cobwebbed corner of my house. If you could see my face, you might be able to make out the pupils of my eyes through a film of black. I would be zoned out, focused not on the rays of sunshine pouring through the window, but on the frightening thoughts that never manifest on the other side of the black.
I am so afraid day to day. Things were going well for a while, but for some reason, lately, I am unable to leave my house again. Even the thought of leaving the house makes me feel dizzy. It makes me feel like I'm walking on jello and that I'm being ever more intensely choked.
A part of me gets so angry at myself. I've been through this before. I made it. I fought. I didn't give up. But today, I just want to give up. I'm ready to throw my hands in the air and just say, "That's it! I will accept never leaving the house again. I'm ok with that." And I would be ok with it for a while--until I see another picture of someone standing on a mountain or sitting on the shore at sunset or drinking a margarita with their girlfriends. My heart cries out for adventure, to soak in the beauty of God's creation, to fellowship with others, but mostly, to NOT have fear.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Praise You in This Storm
She lifted up her hand, the ashes of her boy in a box in front her, and sang,
"And I'll praise you in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For you are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise you in this storm"
Praise God. Amen.
And I will lift my hands
For you are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise you in this storm"
Praise God. Amen.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Ending it.
I think I'm just going to give up on this blog, because I never write in it, and let's face it, when I do it's not very interesting. However, there's a lot of history in this blog.... is there any way to archive it??? Hm.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Passion
As I write, my husband is playing NHL '10 on the Playstation. He screams and hollers when he makes a goal, and he berates the other players when they don't play smart. Sometimes I find myself instinctively saying, "Shhh" when he plays while the baby is sleeping. But today I really don't care. I've been thinking about him and "us" a lot today, and his passion, even the passion he has just playing a video game, is one of the things about him that I fell in love with. I don't tend to excited about much, so his passion is something I need in my life.
The picture above was taken right before we told our parents that we were planning on getting married in two months. See the difference in our expressions? My eyes express timidity and nervousness. I have my hands and my arms pulled in tight towards my chest and my head is turned in a way that makes it look like I'm trying to dodge a slap to the face. But Tom? Look at the joy in his eyes. See his confident smile? Notice how he's leaning forward as if waiting to race off the starting blocks. Joy. Confidence. Eager expectation. That's PASSION!
If you can understand passion, you will understand my husband. I love you, Babe!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Pain of Childbirth
I am convinced that pregnancy, labor and delivery are actually the least painful parts of having a baby. The most painful part of having a baby lasts the rest of your life as this vulnerable little being wakes up every day into an evil world.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Observation or Self-Fulfilling Prophecy?
*I wrote this post in two parts. Part one was written on Tuesday afternoon. Part two was written Wednesday morning. I didn't finish my part one thoughts before I had to leave. It's interesting to me to read them now in hindsight.*
Part One:
Right now a million thoughts are flying a million miles an hour. I had an appointment at 9:00 this morning that I missed because I thought it was at 10, so it got rescheduled for 4:00 this afternoon--just in time for this blizzard that we are supposed to be getting. No big deal, BUT I will have my precious baby boy with me in the car. We will be driving on a busy highway during rush hour in our old Malibu which is not all wheel drive. This frightens me. I don't even like to drive a mile to the grocery store in this weather with him in the car. Normally, I would cancel (though, of course, I shouldn't have taken the appointment in the first place), but I can't make phone calls because my cell phone service is suspended (sorry, Verizon, I'd rather pay my heating bill first). All these things spiral into a whole new realm of racing thought fragments:
breakdown..highway..freak out..no phone..no help..accident..freak out..no help..help me..can't go..can't cancel..must go..afraid..no phone..
I mean, I really have somewhat of a reason to worry in this situation. It's a threatening situation. But last weekend I realized that this is almost always how I think. I had planned to go to the bank and then go get dog food, but while I was at the bank I decided that I could go to Sears and pick up our portraits. As soon as I made that the decision, the race started:
"How far is the mall from here? There will lots of people there today. What entrance is closest to Sears? How far is the escalator from the door? I have to go up the escalator. What if I have a panic attack? How long will it take for me to get out? I hope the studio isn't busy so I can get in and get out. I'll give it five minutes." And on and on. I thought and thought and thought until I literally began to feel dizzy, my breathing became irregular, my palms started sweating, and I considered just turning around and calling the whole thing off. I wish I could stop it, but at least now I'm recognizing that I'm doing it. The fact is I've been doing it for years, but I just didn't realize it. Now I have to learn how to stop it. I want to be able to say, "I'm going to Sears," and then just go instead of making a million little mental stops along the way.
Part two:
Jesus said we can't add a second to our lives by worrying. Worry doesn't add life, but it sure can take it away.
Having said that, I can't gloss over the fact that what I worried about actually did happen to a certain extent. I didn't get stranded on the highway because I didn't take the highway. Problem solved, right? Wrong! As it turns out there are just as many morons driving on the back roads as there are on the expressways, only on the back roads you're passing people who, if they decided to swerve a little, would hit you head on. Not only that, but if you go off the road, you're hitting a ditch instead of a guardrail. And finally, if there is something hazardous in the road, on an expressway you take a cue from the cars ahead of you were are swerving to miss it. Not so on back roads! On back roads, you are the lucky one who discovers the hazardous object. This was the case for me. I didn't see it as I was approaching it. I just heard a loud thump and looked in my rearview mirror to see what I had run over. Still couldn't see it. It wasn't until I got to where I was going and I was unloading the car seat from the car that I heard a "Ssssssss" noise coming from my tire. Low and behold, an hour later, my tire was completely flat. So, there I was stranded, with a flat tire and no phone....and it wasn't quite as frightening as I imagined it would be. First of all, I was stranded in a warm building. And guess what! OTHER PEOPLE HAVE PHONES!
To recap: First, I worried about getting stranded and it happened anyway. Worrying about it didn't magically keep it from happening, it just made me miserable in the meantime. Secondly, even though it happened, the situation wasn't nearly as dire and life-threatening as I imagined it would be. Even if it had been worse, I'm sure I would have dealt with it just fine.
Hmm, I really must stop wasting my life with worry....
Part One:
Right now a million thoughts are flying a million miles an hour. I had an appointment at 9:00 this morning that I missed because I thought it was at 10, so it got rescheduled for 4:00 this afternoon--just in time for this blizzard that we are supposed to be getting. No big deal, BUT I will have my precious baby boy with me in the car. We will be driving on a busy highway during rush hour in our old Malibu which is not all wheel drive. This frightens me. I don't even like to drive a mile to the grocery store in this weather with him in the car. Normally, I would cancel (though, of course, I shouldn't have taken the appointment in the first place), but I can't make phone calls because my cell phone service is suspended (sorry, Verizon, I'd rather pay my heating bill first). All these things spiral into a whole new realm of racing thought fragments:
breakdown..highway..freak out..no phone..no help..accident..freak out..no help..help me..can't go..can't cancel..must go..afraid..no phone..
I mean, I really have somewhat of a reason to worry in this situation. It's a threatening situation. But last weekend I realized that this is almost always how I think. I had planned to go to the bank and then go get dog food, but while I was at the bank I decided that I could go to Sears and pick up our portraits. As soon as I made that the decision, the race started:
"How far is the mall from here? There will lots of people there today. What entrance is closest to Sears? How far is the escalator from the door? I have to go up the escalator. What if I have a panic attack? How long will it take for me to get out? I hope the studio isn't busy so I can get in and get out. I'll give it five minutes." And on and on. I thought and thought and thought until I literally began to feel dizzy, my breathing became irregular, my palms started sweating, and I considered just turning around and calling the whole thing off. I wish I could stop it, but at least now I'm recognizing that I'm doing it. The fact is I've been doing it for years, but I just didn't realize it. Now I have to learn how to stop it. I want to be able to say, "I'm going to Sears," and then just go instead of making a million little mental stops along the way.
Part two:
Jesus said we can't add a second to our lives by worrying. Worry doesn't add life, but it sure can take it away.
Having said that, I can't gloss over the fact that what I worried about actually did happen to a certain extent. I didn't get stranded on the highway because I didn't take the highway. Problem solved, right? Wrong! As it turns out there are just as many morons driving on the back roads as there are on the expressways, only on the back roads you're passing people who, if they decided to swerve a little, would hit you head on. Not only that, but if you go off the road, you're hitting a ditch instead of a guardrail. And finally, if there is something hazardous in the road, on an expressway you take a cue from the cars ahead of you were are swerving to miss it. Not so on back roads! On back roads, you are the lucky one who discovers the hazardous object. This was the case for me. I didn't see it as I was approaching it. I just heard a loud thump and looked in my rearview mirror to see what I had run over. Still couldn't see it. It wasn't until I got to where I was going and I was unloading the car seat from the car that I heard a "Ssssssss" noise coming from my tire. Low and behold, an hour later, my tire was completely flat. So, there I was stranded, with a flat tire and no phone....and it wasn't quite as frightening as I imagined it would be. First of all, I was stranded in a warm building. And guess what! OTHER PEOPLE HAVE PHONES!
To recap: First, I worried about getting stranded and it happened anyway. Worrying about it didn't magically keep it from happening, it just made me miserable in the meantime. Secondly, even though it happened, the situation wasn't nearly as dire and life-threatening as I imagined it would be. Even if it had been worse, I'm sure I would have dealt with it just fine.
Hmm, I really must stop wasting my life with worry....
Monday, January 31, 2011
I dare you not to laugh :)
After watching this, it's hard to imagine that for six weeks I thought he hated the world. I was becoming so exhausted from his crying and my not knowing how to make him stop. I seriously thought he would need a baby shrink. But on the day that he turned 6 weeks old, he smiled for the first time. Then, a few weeks later on Christmas day we heard a little laugh straight from his belly. Every day since then, I spend a certain amount of time trying to make him laugh. Every day it's something different. This day, for some reason, "ah-choo" had him busting a gut. I'm so glad I got this on video!
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