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Insecurities…And All

Feb 1st, 2010 by Amy

I’m a lucky girl.  I am surrounded by some of the most unbelievable women on. the. planet.  Seriously.  They are phenomenal mothers, wives, friends, cooks, home managers, and coupon clippers.  They are smart, witty, pretty, read their Bibles and pray every day.  It is simply an honor for me to be able to hang out with them and to know them. 

 

The challenge, not surprisingly, is that I am, maybe, fifty percent of those things, about fifty percent of the time.  I fall short…a lot.  Oh I try my darnedest to look like I’ve got myself all put together when I leave the safety of my home, but in the back of my mind I know my short-comings, and I never feel quite adequate enough.  As I hear my friends dialogue about motherhood my mind wanders to that episode with my daughter earlier in the day, when I lost my patience and snapped at her.  Or when my son kept begging me to play cars with him and I was irritated.  Oh, I played with him, but I didn’t do it with a sweet spirit (and I’m always encouraging my kids to be sweet to one another).  And so my insecurity continues to grow and grow and grow, like a festering wound deep inside my soul.

 

How do I shake the insecurity out of me?  How do stop this silly game of comparison (because it only paralyzes me)?  How do I climb out of this pit I’ve dug for myself? 

 

Here’s how:  I remember what God says about me.  I remember that He is the one who formed me in the womb, and I am fearfully and wonderfully made (yes, that is right…wonderfully).  I know I’m not perfect.  I know I will make mistakes.  But I also know that it is by God’s grace that I can wipe away the past failures and hit the delete button on shame. 

 

My mom has always said to me that my life is a book (an appropriate metaphor), and every experience, every challenge, every heartache, and every growth pain is all part of the story.  As I morph – transform – into the woman God has created me to be, there will be lots of bumps in the road.  I will struggle with insecurity, but I will also overcome.  I will catch myself looking at other women and thinking I have nothing to offer them but a long list of flaws and failures, while God still chooses to use me, insecurities and all:  mommy mess ups and all, burned dinners and unhappy eaters…and all.  And in the end, because I’m not Superwoman, God gets all the glory.  Any good that comes from my life has nothing – nothing – to do with human effort on my part. 

 

I think that’s the way God likes it.  And you know what?  I’m okay with that.  I may not be everywoman for everywoman, but I’ll just be me: insecurities, flaws, bad hair days (like the one I’m sporting right now)…and all.

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Posted in Faith, Grace, Life, Motherhood | 4 Comments »

Drop The Ball

Jan 29th, 2010 by Amy

Everyone deals with stress in their own special way.  Some people lash out and attack, while some withdraw and end up with stomach ulcers.  Others cry or spend money they don’t have, or pick up old habits they beat years ago.  For me, if you want to know the degree of stress I’m under, all you need do is take a look at my house.  When stressed, my house falls apart.  Clutter, which I hate as much as going to the dentist, fills every empty space, every drawer, and every closet.  I literally freeze up while piles of paper accumulate in the kitchen, dining room, office, and bedroom.  I find facing the menial tasks before me a challenge because all my energy and focus is on the issue at hand.

 

For a little over a month, Joel and I were under a tremendous weight of stress.  There are stressors every day, but this was out-of-the-ordinary kind of stress.  We had some major decisions to make, and quite honestly, it was all I could do to just walk out the door with my hair done and a smile on my face.  My poor house sat neglected for weeks.  (I suppose I should set a disclaimer here that my house did not go without being cleaned for two months – I can only neglect to a point – but stacks and stacks of clutter, clothes, papers, etc., were accumulating, and I hadn’t an ounce of motivation to face them and clean them up.)  It wasn’t until earlier this week that closure was made on this particular decision we were facing.  Suddenly, it was as though I had lost twenty pounds.  The burden and the stress began to ripple off my back, and I felt my old-self climbing up out of clutter.

 

And you can only guess what happened next.  Yep.  This house is in major de-clutter mode.  The other morning I pulled every file out of our filing drawer and began re-organizing, purging, and filing (filing, filing, filing) all the papers, bills and statements that had been collecting dust in our dining room.  And my favorite part has been throwing miscellaneous papers, envelopes, and forgotten art projects away.  I feel great…and I’ve only just begun.  Slowly but surely, my home will be back in working order.

 

Which brings me to my point in sharing this little insight into my stress management, or lack thereof.  There are seasons in our lives that sometimes overwhelm and bear down so hard on us that it’s all we can do to simply get up and out of bed in the morning.  Have you ever faced a time like this?  I have.  And too often, when we are in those seasons, what compounds the difficulty is the stress we feel from outside expectations – that we have to keep all the balls in the air in spite of the pain or grief or depression…or whatever it is we are facing.  And I just want to say, it’s okay to drop a couple of balls now and then.  It’s okay to let the loose ends remain loose for a while.  I’m not a real fan of a dirty, cluttery house (just ask Joel…he loves to tease me about my obsessive compulsive tendencies), but there are times when my focus and energy are pushed so far in one direction that something’s gotta give.  Something needs to go by the wayside until the pressure has passed and I sense relief. 

 

I’m not encouraging a life void of discipline, but when a life is in crisis, or under heavy stress, I am encouraging a life void of unnecessary pressures.  Because, my friends, if you are going through a dark season right now, and you haven’t given yourself any wiggle room to let go of a few things, then I strongly believe you are setting yourself up to snap.  And I would sure hate it if someone I knew, or someone who reads this blog, ended up falling apart into a million pieces. 

 

You know, God’s not expecting perfection.  He’s already got that one in the bag.  If you are at your breaking point, He just wants you to come as you are – frail and weak.  I think He’d tell you the same thing that I’m trying to tell you:  that it’s okay to drop a few of those balls you’ve been frantically juggling, and let Him take care of you.  Eventually, when this tough patch has cleared, and you find yourself on the other side, whole and renewed, then you can pick those balls back up.  You can jump back into your life, but this time complete…restored.

 

Believe me, I share this because I’ve experienced the breaking point, and it’s not somewhere I ever want to revisit.  That’s why the papers will pile up every now and then, the closets will look like a bomb went off in them, and our junk drawer will look like a junk yard.  I’m learning to quit the juggling act and allow God to hold on to the balls for me because when I’ve overcome the obstacle in my way, the balls will always be waiting for me on the other side, and I’ll be in much better shape to handle them.

Posted in Faith, Life, Motherhood | 6 Comments »

Asking “Why” About Haiti

Jan 27th, 2010 by Amy

I love the wild and unpretentious things that spring forth from my children’s mouths like, “Mommy, when you’re mad your eyes get red!”  Or “Mommy, I put pee pee in the potty!  I’m a big boy!  You put pee pee in the potty too!  You a big girl!” – such sweet innocence.  Sometimes their simplistic views and profound observations make me smile.  I love to listen to my children discover life – taking in all the wonderment of this world they occupy.

 

However, recently Sydney has been asking some pretty deep questions.  Much, much heavier content than, “Why do you wear make-up?” and “Do I really have to be a grown up someday?”  Lately the questions she’s been throwing my way have been inspired by the tragedy in Haiti.  “Did God make the earthquake?”  “Why did it happen?”  “Why did God let it happen?”  “Did those people do something wrong?”  Joel and I are not ones to throw petty answers at our children when they ask us tough questions, realizing at the same time, we need to keep our answers 6-year-old friendly.

 

As I was forming a response in my head, I felt overwhelmed.  How do I explain that the same God we have taught her about since she was squirming around in my womb – the God who is loving, compassionate, our protector, Who has good things for His children, Whom she has invited into her life – would allow an earthquake to trample a city to the ground, killing thousands upon thousands of men, women and children?  How do I explain the character of God to a 6-year-old, without confusing or skewing the image of such a gracious, merciful and forgiving Heavenly Father? 

 

Sorting out the best way to answer, I started thinking about the people who don’t believe in God at all.  Perhaps they are asking the same questions as my little girl.  What would I say to them?

 

Here is the response I came up with:

 

God is good, but sometimes, bad things happen.  Sometimes God allows tragedy because He knows what is best for us.  Just like I allow Sydney to make mistakes, knowing full well the consequence in the end will not be a pleasant one.  While God is in control of all the earth and everything in it, He still gives it permission to operate, rotate, breathe in and breathe out, fulfilling its cycles as it was created to do. 

 

Could He have saved those who perished?  Yes.  He could have.  Was He punishing them, and therefore chose not to save them?  No.  While He could have swooped in and protected each one of the earthquake victims, God chose not to.  And quite honestly, we’ll never know why or understand fully as long as we’re living on earth.  That’s a tough answer to swallow.  We like to know why.  We like to understand and rationalize and make sense of uncertainties.  It is very difficult to settle with the fact that we won’t always know why.

 

Here’s the thing.  Life is precious to God.  His character will always be good, righteous, holy and pure.  But we live in a broken world.  When Adam and Even chose to disobey the one command God gave to them in the Garden of Eden, sin entered into the picture…and life has never been the same.  Bad things are going to happen.  Good and bad people alike will suffer here on earth.  Even Christians will suffer. 

 

Could it be, though, that God sees a picture far, far bigger than the one we are looking at right now?  Could it be that from the devastation good will emerge?  Love will bloom where once it had no root?  That those who’s hearts were hardened to God, may, in fact, be melting at this very moment?  It’s difficult to imagine that anything good could come from this, but I don’t see all the details, or the full scope of the image God sees.  Could it be that while we are searching to understand why, God is already at work answering our questions, opening up our eyes to His panoramic view, little by little?  And while we may never see it fully, we may at least catch a tiny glimpse of the image God sees, and realize He was always good, and He was there the whole time.

 

I think it’s great to ask why, and I’m so touched that Sydney would feel comfortable to ask such questions of me, and my husband.  Sometimes I might be able to give a clear-cut answer, but other times, like this, I won’t.  She’ll have to learn to settle for the fact that not all “whys” have answers.  She’ll have to wrestle with it on her own, just as all of us do.  But the one thing I pray she will hold on to for her entire life is that God is good…no matter what.

Posted in Current Events, Faith, Motherhood | 4 Comments »

A Zest For Something

Jan 25th, 2010 by Amy

We don’t get out very much.  This became even more apparent to me when I was stuck in the middle of a conversation revolving around the most recent films to hit theaters.  The women were chatting it up about The Blind Side, It’s Complicated and a host of other grown up movie treats.  Subsequently they turned in my direction, as to not exclude me from the conversation, and asked if I had seen anything good lately.  If Chipmunks – The Squeakquel counted then, yes indeed, I’d seen something good.  Real good because, for an hour-and-a-half, my three chipmunks’ eyes were glued to the movie screen.

 

Date nights don’t materialize too often, or as often as Joel and I would like them to.  And when we do get a night out to ourselves we, more often than not, choose to go somewhere conducive to talking and looking at each other, rather than a movie.  It would have to be a pretty good film for us to spend twenty bucks on something that will gobble up one of our rare and precious date nights.  One such movie that I was willing to sacrifice coffee and conversation for was Julie and Julia, which came out late summer, early fall.  Sadly, for me, our schedule was too packed, and we never got a chance to see it.  So, when asked what DVD I might like to find in my stocking for Christmas, I didn’t hesitate to say, Julie and Julia.  And Santa was good to me.

 

We watched it on a Saturday night.  I remember this detail as I had made minestrone soup in my crock-pot for dinner, and hailed myself as a gourmet genius for producing such a tasty and flavorful meal.  However, as I watched the ladies in the film cut, pour, mix, marinade, stuff and wait, I realized that my idea of cooking was a little less complicated.  I’m a throw-it-all-in-one-dish-and-cook-for-thirty-minutes type gourmette.  I don’t like anything that takes hours, days or weeks to prepare.  In fact, the truth be told, I don’t really like to cook – plain and simple.  I’m not very good at it either.  Seriously.  If you want to know how to kill a dead chicken, just ask me.  My technique is both flawless and consistent.  I believe this is why the crock-pot is my favorite kitchen appliance (besides the dishwasher and coffee maker, of course).  So, while I wasn’t inspired to run out and buy Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking”, I was deeply impressed by both women’s passion for food and cooking, and where that passion took them.

 

The movie challenged me to take a critical look at myself and ask, “What am I passionate about?”  What is it that motivates me to get up in the morning (besides coffee), and what am I willing to face the ups and downs, the growing pains and the dry and empty days for?  Some things are just a given: my love and devotion for God, my husband and children.  Still, there’s got to be more to this time I spend on earth than serving God, loving my husband and raising a family.  And I don’t believe this feeling to be selfish either.  I need to have a zest for something.

 

My ponderings brought me to writing.  I love to write.  Now whether or not I’ve got the chops to actually write a book that will be purchased by more than just my immediate family, I have yet to see.  Time will tell.  I started my blog for the simple purpose of honing my craft.  If people like what they read then I’m moving in the right direction.  If it stinks, then I need to find a new passion…and quick.  There are days when I honestly wonder if all this work is worth it.  I wonder if I’m really making much of a dent in my dream to be a published author some day. 

 

There was one scene in the movie that spoke volumes to me.  Julia Child entered cooking school in France.  They were chopping onions.  She was slow…slower than my crock-pot.  While the other students had completed the task, and done exceptionally well at it, she was only half way through her onion.  Rather than throw in the towel and surmise that cooking was not in the cards for her, she went home and started chopping – lots and lots and lots of onions – until her skills had surpassed those of her classmates.  If Julia Child had to actually work at her technique, what makes me any different?  She didn’t start out as the shining star in her class, but as her passion led the way, her name became synonymous with French cooking.

 

Mine may not be the most widely read blog on the internet (in fact, I can tell you with great certainty that it is not), but I’m going to take my bag of onions and keep chopping until I’ve perfected this skill.  Until I have reached my dream and realized the passion within my heart.  I can’t say that I’ll be cooking up Beef Bourguignon anytime soon ever, but I will be cooking up all kinds of thoughts and words, paragraphs and stories that will, I pray, one day waft through the aisles of Barnes and Noble like the succulent aroma of Coq au Vin or Choux de Bruxelles a la Milanaise.

 

What are you passionate about?  What dreams keep you up at night?  What are you willing to chop to perfection or “pound into submission” (to steal a line from Julie and Julia)?  What will be your Beef Bourguignon?  I urge you to find that thing – your zest for something – and give it everything you’ve got!

 

Let’s not waste another second hoping and wishing.  Let’s get out there and chop our onions.  Let’s seize our zest for something and see what rich flavors we can all bring to the table. 

 

Bon Appetite, my friends!

Posted in Life, Writing/Blogging | 9 Comments »

The Cool People

Jan 22nd, 2010 by Amy

uggs

I think I moved a few rungs up the ladder of coolness after my family gave me a pair of Uggs for my birthday.  They are divine (as far as a winter foot accessory goes), and I feel slightly glamorous each time I slip them on my feet.  Although, I can’t seem to fight the compulsion to explain that I did not buy them myself (because the thought of paying almost $200 for a pair anything knocks the wind out of me), but they were a gift. 

 

The only glitch I encountered was figuring out how to wear my brand new, gray Classic Cardy Uggs.  I don’t trust my judgment on matters like these, and the first few times I walked them out the door, I wore them exactly as they came in the box.  I didn’t want to take any chances.  Then, one morning I thought I would be daring, and started playing around with the buttons, thinking perhaps I would wear them straight up the leg instead of folded down around the ankle.  Of course, I had an audience of three – Sydney, Brooklyn and Jackson – who were quick to give me their input and fashion expertise.  “Down!  Wear them down, Mommy!  They look much better down.”  They seemed to agree on one thing for certain, I should wear my Cardy Uggs folded down.  I crinkled my nose, tilted my head and followed their advice (daring, I know).

 

Later that day I was having dinner with friends, one of which who also received the Classic Cardy Uggs recently as a gift.  Hers were folded down (sigh of relief coming from me).  She is probably on the top of my list of friends with amazing taste and a flair for fashion.  I went ahead and asked her for some Ugg mentoring.  What I learned from this brief coaching moment was that only dorks wear their Cardy Uggs all the way up the calf.  The cool people (and I gotta be cool) wear them with two buttons clasped and folded down (another sigh, and a quick kudos to my girls who saved me from being a dork earlier that morning). 

 

Thank you to my parents and my sister for my warm, cozy and fashionable Uggs, and to my children for making sure I wore them the way the cool people do.  Where on earth would I be without my family? 

 

Oh.  I know. 

 

Uggless and, most definitely, uncool.

Posted in Fun Stuff, Random | 1 Comment »

Legacy – Part Two

Jan 20th, 2010 by Amy

026_26

Have you thrown a temper tantrum lately?  I have.  I know what you’re probably thinking:  “That’s something I’d like to see!  Amy throwing a temper tantrum!”  Before you get all excited envisioning my five foot eight frame flailing about on the ground, my meltdown was a little less exuberant.  I didn’t realize at the time that my outburst was, in fact, a temper tantrum until we starting dealing with a succession of bedtime battles with Sydney.

 

Whether it was coming off of the holiday sugar high, or the stress we’ve been under over the past few months, or the fact that Joel was preparing to leave on an eleven-day building trip to Nicaragua with a group from our church, Sydney downright lost it.  And when I say, “lost it”, I mean lost ALL of IT.  Night after night we faced the same drama:  arms and legs twisting and swinging this way and that; blood curdling screams that made our hearts drop to the pits of our stomachs; red-faced angry words that stung and bruised and didn’t make sense all at the same time.  Sydney has always been a challenge, but meltdowns of this proportion are very rare, and this specific behavior hadn’t graced our lives in well over a year. 

 

While Joel was in Nicaragua I begged God for a hiatus from these explosions.  I think He must have had mercy on me, because, while there were still outbursts, they were manageable.  Either that, or He granted me some much needed wisdom and insight in dealing with them properly.  On one such occasion we were driving home from an outing, and it was late.  Sydney started spiraling out of control emotionally.  Instantly I had the good sense to stop her, and in a calm voice ask her what I could do to help.  I said, “Sydney, I can see that you are upset, and I really want to help you.  What is it that I can do for you right now?”  She sniffled and snorted then said, “I can’t think.  I’m crying.”  I replied, “Then, you need to stop crying and start thinking.  I love you and I really do want to help you, but until you stop crying and start thinking, there’s nothing I can do for you.”  It was like magic.  Instantly anger was diffused, muscles relaxed and she quieted down long enough to think and listen.

 

I’m not a super mom, by any means, but by remaining calm and thoughtful in an irrational moment, I was able to safely reign in my emotionally expressive child.  This has made me think a lot about my relationship with God.  While I haven’t been physically thrashing my body in a heated temper tantrum over not getting my way, I have been mindless in my cries to God.  In my head I thought things were supposed to go a certain way, and they didn’t…so rather than stop and find out God’s thoughts on the matter, I’ve whined, cried, questioned, and blubbered out selfish one-way prayers.  Sydney’s tantrums have brought much conviction to me.

 

When I finally drew in a deep breadth and exhaled, God had a chance to speak, to say, “Hey Amy, I really love you and I want to help you, but you need to stop crying first.”  When I stopped crying, and started listening to the still, small voice of my Heavenly Father, He started speaking. 

 

The following four life practices that I will be implementing this year are what I sensed God calling me to do in that quiet moment of reflection:

 

  • Wait (in silence and solitude) – Psalm 46:10 NIV “Be still, and know that I am God.” Isaiah 40:31 KJV “But they that wait upon the Lord will renew their strength; they will mount up with wings as eagles.”  Before I rush out planning and making decisions, I sense that God is quietly urging me to pause – to wait in the stillness of His presence.  Rather than fret and worry, He is calling me to quiet my mind, seek after Him, long for Him, and He will bring clarity, straightforward answers and peace that passes understanding. 

 

  • Delight in the Lord – Psalm 37:4 “Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.”  When I begin to delight, cherish and take care of those things that are dear to God, then He, in turn, will do the same for me.  And really, God cares a million times more about my husband, children, daily needs, hopes, heart desires and dreams than I ever could.  (I have a strong feeling I will need to practice this on a daily basis.)

 

  • Thanksgiving – Psalm 50:23 NIV “He who sacrifices thank offerings honors me, and he prepares the way so that I may show him the salvation of God.”  Sometimes it’s easy to come before God with a heart of thanksgiving; like after a long-awaited prayer has been answered, or everything in life is going our way.  However, there are those times when thanksgiving is a sacrifice.  It doesn’t come natural.  It may even hurt.  You know that scripture, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is the tree of life”?  Well, offering up words of thanks and gratitude to God when the heart is sick is what I believe it means to offer up a sacrifice of thanksgiving.  I believe God is calling me to thank Him even though I have yet to see the longing of my life fulfilled.  In due time, He will make all things beautiful.  I am going to focus on the hope of what is to come, thank Him in advance for it, even if it hurts.

 

  • Sacrificial giving – Psalm 65:11 NIV “You crown the year with your bounty and your carts overflow with abundance.”  Tithing is a no brainer.  God’s Word instructs us to give Him a tenth of our earnings (Deuteronomy 14:22).  When we do so, we are living in obedience.  I don’t believe God to be a tyrant up there in heaven wielding a big stick, ready to swat at anyone who so much dares not tithe.  However, I believe that those who do tithe are in a much better position for favor, blessing and protection than those who don’t.  God is not legalistic, but He has set these instructions before us for our benefit.  When we don’t tithe it only ends up hurting us, not Him.  That said, even while tithing may sometimes feel like a sacrifice, Joel and I believe God is calling us to re-align our finances and give beyond our regular tithes and offerings – to give sacrificially.  Only blessing can be reaped when we give to that which touches our Father’s heart, especially when that giving isn’t an easy thing to do.

 

So, there you have it, in a not-so-little nutshell.  This is only the tip of the iceberg, but a great start to what I hope will be a life well lived – a life bearing fruit, pursuing a dream and leaving a legacy.

Posted in Faith, Life, Ministry | 2 Comments »

Legacy – Part One

Jan 18th, 2010 by Amy

I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.  Deep thoughts and not-so-deep thoughts alike have been swooshing around in this noggin of mine.  And each time I’ve tried to sit down and start typing them out there would, of course, be some crisis to be addressed – like keeping Jackson company while he sat on the potty for an hour waiting for his “business” to come out into the toilet and not his pull-up, or spending two hours at bedtime dealing with non-stop emotional meltdowns by child #1, or playing referee to a multitude of sibling knock-down-drag-out fights, on top of the day-to-day challenges of raising three kids with the hope that they become well-adjusted, law-abiding, rational adults some day.  Needless to say, time has not been on my side, and the vast majority of my deep musings and insights have completely evaporated in the heat of childrearing.

 

With that said, the following is what has lingered profoundly in my soul amidst the crazies in my life.  It is the thought, the conviction, the goal and where I have zeroed in emotionally, spiritually and cognitively over the past few weeks.  The big question to myself:  What am I leaving behind?  What will be my legacy?

 

A friend of mine wrote on this at the beginning of the month, and it stuck with me, as this was something I, too, had been wrestling with.  When I’m gone, what impression will I have left behind?  What will my husband say of me?  My children?  My friends?  Those God has called me to serve?  Will their words be mere accolades of my sweetness and quick smile?  Or will I have left a fruitful orchard of spiritual substance for my loved ones to feast on long after I’m gone?  My legacy. 

 

I have high hopes for myself, but fear I fall short more often than not.  I lose my patience, hold grudges, compare, whine and complain, and try very hard to justify each one of these offenses, only to end up staring straight into the face of conviction when I sit down to read my Bible.  I wonder if there’s any hope for me?  (And I’m eternally grateful that the answer to that is “YES”!)

 

I had a conversation this week that both challenged and encouraged me.  I was challenged to look at my life in the context of a bigger picture…a God-sized picture.  For a thinking person like myself I find dreaming big to be extremely difficult.  I’m naturally inclined to focus on the here and now…not so much the vastness of what can be.  So, in conjunction with my thoughts on legacy, I sat down and started looking at where I want to see myself down the road, and what it’s going to take for me to get there.  Yes.  I want to leave a cherished and rich legacy behind.  Now, rather that simply writing the story of my today, I am challenging myself to begin writing the story of what can be, what I will be, and how I believe God is going to take me there.

 

In my next post I will share with you the four areas in my life that I have sensed God calling me to go deeper, and how I plan to do so.  I have bigger dreams for my future, but with a keen understanding that big dreams start with small steps – each one building on the next.  For this year I will be incorporating these four things into the DNA of my life, with high hopes that they will become second nature to me, and through them the first step to my dream fulfilled will be realized.

Posted in Faith, Life, Ministry | 1 Comment »

Haiti

Jan 15th, 2010 by Amy

Have you been watching the news lately?  The images of the tragedy taken place in Haiti are sobering.  It is impossible to avoid or ignore, even if you don’t watch t.v., the horrifying destruction and devastation that millions of people are living through right now.

 

I’ve been convicted over the past couple of days that my sorrow and condolences for this nation are simply not enough.  While I don’t have thousands – or even hundreds – of dollars to give, I have realized that I must do something.  However, if I am going to donate I want to make sure of two things:  1.  The organization is legit and viable and 2.  Giving is simple.

 

Here’s one way I found that I can contribute to the cause, and I would encourage you to pray about how/what you, too, can do to reach out:  The U.S. Department of State has recommended texting “HAITI” to 90999.  By doing so you will donate $10 to the American Red Cross.  Thus far  they have received 37 million dollars in donations for the relief effort in Haiti.  While my $10 is a mere drop in the bucket, to say the least, I know every little bit helps. 

 

Beyond the financial need, Haiti needs my prayers too.  And so, even as I write this, I am praying for the people of Haiti.

Posted in Current Events | 1 Comment »

A Taste For Rhinestones and Faux Fur

Jan 12th, 2010 by Amy

If it’s fluffy, shiny or covered in rhinestones my girls are drawn to it like moths to a flame.  It would seem that, while I have poured all of my fashion expertise into their young lives since the day they were born, they have developed their own sense of style.  A sense of style quite contrary to mine – one that prefers a little bling, bling and wild colors to that of warm hues, traditional dresses and coordinating outfit ensembles (with matching hair pieces, I might add).  Try as I might to convince and persuade them to tone down their spicy taste in couture, it is to no avail.   In their small world of pink glitter nail polish and cherry lip smacker Chap Stick, black velvet totally compliments hot pink, sequins and faux fur.  My girls put the “girl” in girlie. 

 

After all these years – all six-and-a-half of them – you would think that I would have learned the valuable lesson of which battles are worth fighting and of which ones to let go.  Usually I’m pretty good at keeping this at the forefront of my mind.  However, the other morning as we were preparing to leave the house for church, my obsessive compulsive controlling nature kicked in to high gear, and I fought for a good thirty minutes with Brooklyn over which coat she was going to wear.  I could have slapped myself silly for blowing such a minor difference of opinion into a full-blown war over appropriate outerwear.  When the grown up rational side of me finally came to, and realized how foolish I was behaving (it’s not like Brooklyn was resisting wearing a coat at all…she just wanted to wear her fluffy, white coat, not her navy, tailored wool coat that I just happen to prefer), I acquiesced and we all left for church smiling…and warm.  Just another example of how far I have to go in this thing called motherhood.

 

066_66To my credit, I’ve come a long way baby!  Two years ago, when Sydney was displaying her strong tendencies for wild and crazy fashion, I struggled to relinquish the tight fisted hold I had on her wardrobe.  Over my dead body would she be permitted to wear red tights with her pastel pink skirt and coral colored track-jacket.  These days, I have learned to simply look the other way when it’s time to lay out their clothes for the morning.  Sometimes I cringe, and have to fight hard, the urge to intervene.  Other times I find myself pleasantly surprised and impressed by some of their outfit choices.  And I am always there to lend a helping hand or suggestion, but only when asked. 

 

What I’ve been learning is just how valuable it is to let go of the little things and allow my kids to develop their own sense of self.  There are boundaries and limits in our home that pertain to the rules of the house, and those are non-negotiable.  However, when it comes to clothes, as long as it’s modest and tasteful, I let them have the control.  Let them figure out how to put it all together.  Let them experience a safe kind of independence and autonomy through dressing themselves. 

 

I’m still working on this, as noted in the earlier part of this post.  The control freak in me still pops up every now and then, and I have to smack her back down with a good dose of “does it really matter?”  Does my daughter’s outfit, or coat, have anything to do with her character development or a core family value?  When the answer is “no” then I have to let it go. 

 

And slowly, but surely, I’m making progress…and so are they.

Posted in Life, Motherhood | 3 Comments »

Bag Lady

Jan 9th, 2010 by Amy

Before I entered the world of motherhood I had some pretty strong (and ignorant, mind you) ideas of what kind of mom I was going to be.  I visualized myself prancing around town toting my offspring in a pristine and crumb-free stroller, with my hair bouncing on my shoulders just like Gwyneth Paltrow and baby Apple.  I was going to get up early every day, shower, do my hair and make-up and would not allow myself to look like the exhausted and haggard moms I spied at the mall, donning their husband’s over-sized t-shirts and worn out sweats, with a multitude of bags hanging from their shoulders and forearms.  Their strollers, encrusted with sticky substances and stale cheerios, grossed. me. out.  I vowed that my children would be forbidden to eat in the stroller, that I would only carry one bag, and I would never be caught dead sporting anything from my husband’s dresser drawers.  My baby would coo and giggle while out and about on our shopping ventures; not scream, cry and throw tantrums like the ones I so often observed parked in goo-infested travel systems outside MiMi’s Maternity Boutique.  I was going to do motherhood right – a one bag, spotless stroller, stylish Mommy, and adorable offspring kind of gal.

 

Let’s flash forward about six years.  I am now the proud mother of three, ages 6, 4 and 3.  Our stroller looks like it’s been pummeled with applesauce and bananas with remnants of saltine crackers wedged into every nook and cranny.  It’s a health hazard.  Try as I did to firmly adhere to the “no food in the stroller” rule, a peaceful shopping experience won out, along with goldfish and mushy fruit.  (Anyone with a baby over the age of six months knows exactly what I’m talking about.)  A squeaky clean stroller was just a pipe dream.

 

Speaking of outings.  Remember my vow to “never be caught dead sporting anything from my husband’s dresser drawers”?  Children, too, have changed my perspective on what is appropriate “going out” attire.  These days comfort is key.  I long to be comfortable.  I have worn Joel’s t-shirts, sweatshirts, socks and ball caps.  And all I’ve worn shamelessly to the grocery store, shopping, walks around the block and running errands.  There have been days on end when not a smudge of make-up has touched my skin.  It’s not that I don’t care about my looks, but looking good tends to take a back seat when I’m absorbed with the needs of my little ones. 

 

And then there are the bags.  (Oh…the bags!)  They were, in fact, the inspiration of this post today.  As I was preparing to head out the door the other morning I stopped when I suddenly caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror with bags hanging from various body parts. I looked like a Christmas tree decked out in backpacks, book bags, lunch bags, my purse, coats and sweaters.  “Oh no!  Say it ain’t so!”  I turned from my reflection, blinked my eyes hoping the image was not as it appeared, and snuck a second glance.  Nothing had changed.  I knew right then and there I had become the bag lady. 

 

Not just the bag lady, but the poor mom huffing and puffing her way through the church foyer, feeling like she has forgotten something, hoping her hair still looks as cute as it did before Jackson’s curious hands touched and grabbed it while being buckled into his four-point harness car seat, and praying that no one will drop on the floor in blatant protest to mommy’s whispered instructions.  I am the mom that I said I would never become.  I’m the icky stroller, multi-bag toting, wearing hubbies cast-off tees, exhausted, and breathless mommy.

 

In the literal sense, it seems that everywhere we go requires huge amounts of excess baggage.  Just managing all the kids’ miscellaneous items is enough to wear me out – even when they, too, are carrying part of the load.  Which brings me to my “big thought” for the day.  What about all the excess stuff I carry around spiritually?  All the worries, stress, needless expectations I put on myself, the guilt (Oh the guilt!), and the fear…the list could easily go on and on.  Even when I unburden myself to my husband or a close friend, still the “bags” continue to hang from my shoulders or pull on my arms.  While there’s not much I can do about all the backpacks, water bottles, blankets and coats while my kids are young, there is something I can do about the bags I carry around in my spirit.  Those bags are unnecessary, and there is nowhere I can find that God desires for me to continue clinging to them. 

 

So how do I get rid of this spiritual baggage? 

 

By setting them down at the feet of Christ.  The whole reason God allowed His son Jesus to come to earth, dwell among us and sacrifice His life on the cross, was so that He could take every care of the world, every sin of every man and every burden we struggle to balance onto His own back and carry it for us.  We love to sing, “I surrender all”, but most of the time once we’ve left the altar where we’ve made that submission, we end up picking up our “all” right outside the door.  The challenge is not so much to spill out our lives in a moment of emotional surrender, but to daily give everything over to God.  Daily lift up our hands and say, “Take my fear today, take my sadness, take my struggles, my finances, my priorities, my family…take every burden weighing on this heart of mine…today.”  And then daily, He can take all those spiritual bags we’ve been dragging around for so long, and bring us the relief and peace we so desperately need and want. 

 

Psalm 68:19

 

Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens.

Posted in Faith, Life, Motherhood | 3 Comments »

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