My dad calls them the "hungry years." These early years of marriage, or maybe just adulthood in general, that, for I'm guessing a lot of people, are rough. Especially financially.
I talked to my dad not long ago on the phone and during our chat we discussed some of the financial struggles that my husband and I are going through right now and the little tricks we're using to get by. My dad just chuckled and said something along the lines of, "Yup, I remember those days all too well." Those days of living paycheck to paycheck. Of robbing Peter to pay Paul. Of choosing this bill over that bill and hoping that things work out in the end, hoping to somehow catch a break.
But my dad also said something that I've been thinking about a lot. He said that as rough as these times can seem right now, when we look back on them in twenty years, chances are we'll remember them fondly and say, "You know, those times really weren't so bad." And I think he's right.
People who know me know that I am a very firm believer in God's plan for me. I never hesitate to say that things happen for a reason and God may be the only one to know that reason right now, but that's enough for me. Whenever I think things are simply beyond bad, something always happens to prove me wrong, and I know that God is maneuvering my life in the direction He's laid out for me.
It could be said that part of the reason we are struggling financially right now is because we moved to Quincy. Part of the reason is because Chaz was ill and spent a lot of time in the hospital over a six month period. Part of the reason is because the job he was working at the time was not supportive of him. It could be said that part of the reason is because I wasn't working, but instead stayed home with my children. There are a lot of reasons we are struggling financially, some of which are not within our control and a good many that definitely are.
But the point is, we moved to Quincy and the move was not easy. Or cheap. We were blessed enough to have people in our lives that were able and willing to help us move when the opportunity presented itself. After two months, we are still playing a huge game of catch-up that will probably last long into the foreseeable future.
But we're here and I know that we're here because this is where God wants us. This is where we need to be. The pieces would not have fallen into place the way they did if we weren't meant to be here.
We are definitely going through the hungry years right now. But we also have been blessed with the means to survive them. I cannot even begin to say thanks for all of the support we have right now.
We have family that is willing to do so much in their own individual ways to get us through this. Whether it's simply a phone call, a listening, nonjudgmental ear, or the lending of a car, or of actual funds, or most importantly, their prayers--all of it is so appreciated. To our parents, our brothers and sisters, our aunts and uncles and grandparents. Thank you.
We have friends that are empathetic and do more than I could ever hope to repay. Words are not nearly enough to express the gratitude I feel towards the people God has brought into my life. Friends who babysit for a few hours so I can run to the food bank, friends who donate funds when they are struggling themselves, friends who simply show up. It's been a very long time since I had those kinds of people in my life and I don't know what I would do without them all. To all of our friends, near and far. Thank you.
We have a supportive church family that, even though we are new, is willing to stand up and help. They offer comfort and solace and support and prayers. To our pastor and fellow church members. Thank you.
We have social opportunities that offer us hope for the future. Good schools for our girls. Networking for us. People in the know who are willing to share their knowledge to help me become a successful and earning author. To the Quincy Writers' Guild, the Quincy Not-So-Fine-Arts Society, Night Shift Fiction Writers, St. James Lutheran School, BCBS of Illinois. Thank you.
I never cease to be amazed at how even at the darkest times, when stress is a sickening ball in my gut and I just can't see a way out, God provides one. Something always happens, an answer comes from somewhere, and we survive. We make it through to the next day, and the next, and the next.
We couldn't do it without you.
So thank you. Thank you for making these hungry years worthwhile. Thank you for making these hungry years a time that I will look back on twenty years from now and say, "Yeah, those times really weren't so bad. Those times were actually pretty damn good." Thank you for not making me wait twenty years to know that the times aren't so bad...because I already know that we'll make it through.
Thank you.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Thursday, April 17, 2014
April 17, 2014--Why God allows children to die
I was at church tonight, thoroughly enjoying the Maundy Thursday service, when it came time for the prayers, about 2/3 of the way through the service. And before beginning, my pastor announced to the congregation that there was a special prayer request tonight. One of our members who is pregnant with her first child and near her time of delivery has been told by the doctors that her baby is in distress. They are planning an induction to try and preserve the baby's life.
As a mother, my immediate response was a dropping of the heart and a prickling behind my eyes. I have not had to go through the terrible grief of losing a child and all things considered, I had two very healthy and fairly easy pregnancies and deliveries. Even when Daphnie was transported to Cardinal Glennon at only 48 hours old, I never truly feared for her life. The doctors had said it was strictly precautionary and I took them at their word. Yet whenever I hear of a mother losing a child or in danger of possibly losing a child, my heart aches for them and yearns to hold my own two babies just a little bit closer, harder, longer.
As my pastor began the prayers and specifically remembered this member in them, he asked God that if it be His will, to please preserve the life of both mother and child. And that phrase--if it be Your will--was used specifically. Twice. And it reminded me that as humans, with human emotions, our first instinct is to pray for preservation of life, especially for those we love and hold close. It is very rare that we ask for the death of one we love. Always we want them to be around for just a little bit longer. And I think this is never more true than when we speak of a young child. A newborn. Their life is only beginning. No one wants it to be snuffed out before it begins. Yet, as humans, we can never truly comprehend, never fully understand the will of God, specifically when it seems that His will is to take someone from us.
I have a friend who lost her son a little over a year ago. He was three weeks old. She is not religious and the one question she seemed to ask over and over again was: if God loves us, if He is a loving and merciful God, why would He allow my child to die? What kind of God lets bad things happen to children?
It's a legitimate question. And it's one that I've had a hard time answering, especially in a context that is understandable to those who do not share my beliefs. When I'm speaking to another Christian who doesn't fear death, who strongly believes in the presence of God and Heaven and an everlasting life after death, the answers are easy. It's simply a matter of faith. We have it and so it makes sense. But to someone who doesn't have that, believing people when they tell you that God loves you, even though your child just died, is a bit harder to swallow. I understand how hearing tons of people tell you that "it's all for the best" or "you'll understand it someday" or "it's all part of God's plan" can be frustrating and irritating and make you angry beyond belief. How it can sound trite and is just "what people say."
Tonight, sitting in church, hearing the pastor's announcement of that prayer request and remembering what night we were celebrating and what happened on it, I found the answer that I can give to those hard questions.
Maundy Thursday is the first night of a three-day remembrance leading up to Easter. On this special Thursday, Christians remember the night that Christ shared the final Passover meal with His disciples and then was betrayed into the hands of His enemies to be crucified. After sharing that meal with His disciples, they all retire to a place called the Mount of Olives and while there, Jesus leaves His disciples and steps away for a few moments to pray. And this is what He says:
"My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will....My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink of it, your will be done."--Matthew 26:39, 42
"Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will."--Mark 14:36
"'Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.' And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly; and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground."--Luke 22:42-44
In three different accounts of the Gospel, it is noted that Jesus prays to God, asking that He not be forced to do what He was sent to do. Christ knew the plan all along. He knew that He would be sent to earth to live and preach and at the end of His earthly existence, die, in order that mankind might be saved. He came to earth knowing this, prepared for it. Yet when the time came for these things to happen, He begged His Father, not once, not twice, but three times (that are documented in Scripture) that He not be forced to be tortured and put up on a cross. If there could be any other way that mankind could be saved, let that way be done, and not the way that required Him to be scorned, mocked, beaten, tortured and killed. His soul was sorrowful and He was in agony; He did not want to do what had to be done. He wished for any other possible solution. Yet always He remembered that it was God's will and not His that must be done. And God's answer was no. No, there is not another way. There is only one way and this is it and it must be done. You must die if they are to live. And so Christ went and suffered all things and gave up His life. And three days hence, He was raised to life and defeated sin, death and the devil. What started as a tragedy ended as a victory. Not only for Christ, but for us. Especially for us.
So when people ask me now, "How can God allow children to die? How could He not save my child?" my answer will be this: He allowed His own Son to die. He didn't save His own child. He allowed His own child not only to die, but to be laughed at, scorned, beaten beyond all belief, tortured with thorns and spears, spit on, forced to carry His own cross, crucified with thieves, utterly humiliated and finally killed. A child that He loved, His very own Son, He abandoned to die that we might be saved. He could very easily have let His child off the hook. Jesus could have easily said, Nope, no way, not worth it. But that didn't happen. God gave up His child. For us. So that we could be His children and live.
I mean, it would be like having a perfectly healthy baby, with no health issues, no reason this kid won't make it to 90 years old, no problem, and, knowing that the baby next door is going to die without a new heart, just up and killing your own child so that you could give his or her heart to the baby next door. And not just any baby next door. No, this isn't your nephew or your niece or anyone close to you. This is an utter stranger. And not just a stranger. This is the child of your neighbor who is loud and obnoxious and rude and doesn't pay his taxes on time and gets food stamps so he can buy cigarettes and weed and is always letting his dog crap in your pristine front yard and shouldn't have had a baby in the first place. Who would do that, seriously? I wouldn't. But God did.
And so earthly death, while it is a tragedy for us because our human emotions dictate it, is for God a triumph, a victory. He is bringing His children home to life eternal with Him.
Now, this still may not be answer enough for some. And that's okay. This is in no way an attempt to force my beliefs down anyone's throats or to forcibly convert those that still have questions or doubts or simply don't buy it.
But if you believe in the possibility of God's existence, if you acknowledge that He's out there is some form and you want to know how He can possibly allow such bad things to happen in the world, specifically the death of those young ones who have barely begun to live, remember that He allowed the worst possible thing to happen to His own child. No death any child has suffered or the grief that his or her parents have suffered can begin to compare to the pain and agony that Christ suffered on the cross or God suffered knowing that it must happen, that He must allow it to happen so that His creation could be saved. He sacrificed His child in order that we might be spared that kind of suffering.
Does that mean we shouldn't grieve over our lost ones? Absolutely not. Does that mean we're not allowed to feel anger or rage over the loss of loved ones? No. Human emotion must be acknowledged and accepted and dealt with. That is part of life. God doesn't begrudge you that. He understands what you're feeling, because He's been where you are.
But just as His own Son asked if there might be another way and God answered no, sometimes His answer to us is no, too. And often it is because there is a greater plan in motion that we as humans cannot fully understand or appreciate at this time. I know that's a huge pill to swallow and I'm not saying it's easy to accept. But it gives me a lot of comfort when things are rough. If God could allow His own Son to die, whom He loves greatly, in my place, how much more does He love me and those I hold close that He would sacrifice the one He holds dearest so that I might be saved?
It's a pretty big deal. And there is comfort to be had in that, if we can only open ourselves up to it.
And that's all I have for you for now. Until next time....
As a mother, my immediate response was a dropping of the heart and a prickling behind my eyes. I have not had to go through the terrible grief of losing a child and all things considered, I had two very healthy and fairly easy pregnancies and deliveries. Even when Daphnie was transported to Cardinal Glennon at only 48 hours old, I never truly feared for her life. The doctors had said it was strictly precautionary and I took them at their word. Yet whenever I hear of a mother losing a child or in danger of possibly losing a child, my heart aches for them and yearns to hold my own two babies just a little bit closer, harder, longer.
As my pastor began the prayers and specifically remembered this member in them, he asked God that if it be His will, to please preserve the life of both mother and child. And that phrase--if it be Your will--was used specifically. Twice. And it reminded me that as humans, with human emotions, our first instinct is to pray for preservation of life, especially for those we love and hold close. It is very rare that we ask for the death of one we love. Always we want them to be around for just a little bit longer. And I think this is never more true than when we speak of a young child. A newborn. Their life is only beginning. No one wants it to be snuffed out before it begins. Yet, as humans, we can never truly comprehend, never fully understand the will of God, specifically when it seems that His will is to take someone from us.
I have a friend who lost her son a little over a year ago. He was three weeks old. She is not religious and the one question she seemed to ask over and over again was: if God loves us, if He is a loving and merciful God, why would He allow my child to die? What kind of God lets bad things happen to children?
It's a legitimate question. And it's one that I've had a hard time answering, especially in a context that is understandable to those who do not share my beliefs. When I'm speaking to another Christian who doesn't fear death, who strongly believes in the presence of God and Heaven and an everlasting life after death, the answers are easy. It's simply a matter of faith. We have it and so it makes sense. But to someone who doesn't have that, believing people when they tell you that God loves you, even though your child just died, is a bit harder to swallow. I understand how hearing tons of people tell you that "it's all for the best" or "you'll understand it someday" or "it's all part of God's plan" can be frustrating and irritating and make you angry beyond belief. How it can sound trite and is just "what people say."
Tonight, sitting in church, hearing the pastor's announcement of that prayer request and remembering what night we were celebrating and what happened on it, I found the answer that I can give to those hard questions.
Maundy Thursday is the first night of a three-day remembrance leading up to Easter. On this special Thursday, Christians remember the night that Christ shared the final Passover meal with His disciples and then was betrayed into the hands of His enemies to be crucified. After sharing that meal with His disciples, they all retire to a place called the Mount of Olives and while there, Jesus leaves His disciples and steps away for a few moments to pray. And this is what He says:
"My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will....My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink of it, your will be done."--Matthew 26:39, 42
"Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will."--Mark 14:36
"'Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.' And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly; and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground."--Luke 22:42-44
In three different accounts of the Gospel, it is noted that Jesus prays to God, asking that He not be forced to do what He was sent to do. Christ knew the plan all along. He knew that He would be sent to earth to live and preach and at the end of His earthly existence, die, in order that mankind might be saved. He came to earth knowing this, prepared for it. Yet when the time came for these things to happen, He begged His Father, not once, not twice, but three times (that are documented in Scripture) that He not be forced to be tortured and put up on a cross. If there could be any other way that mankind could be saved, let that way be done, and not the way that required Him to be scorned, mocked, beaten, tortured and killed. His soul was sorrowful and He was in agony; He did not want to do what had to be done. He wished for any other possible solution. Yet always He remembered that it was God's will and not His that must be done. And God's answer was no. No, there is not another way. There is only one way and this is it and it must be done. You must die if they are to live. And so Christ went and suffered all things and gave up His life. And three days hence, He was raised to life and defeated sin, death and the devil. What started as a tragedy ended as a victory. Not only for Christ, but for us. Especially for us.
So when people ask me now, "How can God allow children to die? How could He not save my child?" my answer will be this: He allowed His own Son to die. He didn't save His own child. He allowed His own child not only to die, but to be laughed at, scorned, beaten beyond all belief, tortured with thorns and spears, spit on, forced to carry His own cross, crucified with thieves, utterly humiliated and finally killed. A child that He loved, His very own Son, He abandoned to die that we might be saved. He could very easily have let His child off the hook. Jesus could have easily said, Nope, no way, not worth it. But that didn't happen. God gave up His child. For us. So that we could be His children and live.
I mean, it would be like having a perfectly healthy baby, with no health issues, no reason this kid won't make it to 90 years old, no problem, and, knowing that the baby next door is going to die without a new heart, just up and killing your own child so that you could give his or her heart to the baby next door. And not just any baby next door. No, this isn't your nephew or your niece or anyone close to you. This is an utter stranger. And not just a stranger. This is the child of your neighbor who is loud and obnoxious and rude and doesn't pay his taxes on time and gets food stamps so he can buy cigarettes and weed and is always letting his dog crap in your pristine front yard and shouldn't have had a baby in the first place. Who would do that, seriously? I wouldn't. But God did.
And so earthly death, while it is a tragedy for us because our human emotions dictate it, is for God a triumph, a victory. He is bringing His children home to life eternal with Him.
Now, this still may not be answer enough for some. And that's okay. This is in no way an attempt to force my beliefs down anyone's throats or to forcibly convert those that still have questions or doubts or simply don't buy it.
But if you believe in the possibility of God's existence, if you acknowledge that He's out there is some form and you want to know how He can possibly allow such bad things to happen in the world, specifically the death of those young ones who have barely begun to live, remember that He allowed the worst possible thing to happen to His own child. No death any child has suffered or the grief that his or her parents have suffered can begin to compare to the pain and agony that Christ suffered on the cross or God suffered knowing that it must happen, that He must allow it to happen so that His creation could be saved. He sacrificed His child in order that we might be spared that kind of suffering.
Does that mean we shouldn't grieve over our lost ones? Absolutely not. Does that mean we're not allowed to feel anger or rage over the loss of loved ones? No. Human emotion must be acknowledged and accepted and dealt with. That is part of life. God doesn't begrudge you that. He understands what you're feeling, because He's been where you are.
But just as His own Son asked if there might be another way and God answered no, sometimes His answer to us is no, too. And often it is because there is a greater plan in motion that we as humans cannot fully understand or appreciate at this time. I know that's a huge pill to swallow and I'm not saying it's easy to accept. But it gives me a lot of comfort when things are rough. If God could allow His own Son to die, whom He loves greatly, in my place, how much more does He love me and those I hold close that He would sacrifice the one He holds dearest so that I might be saved?
It's a pretty big deal. And there is comfort to be had in that, if we can only open ourselves up to it.
And that's all I have for you for now. Until next time....
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
March 26, 2014--Just a Minute
There seem to be two reoccurring situations in my life where the phrase "just a minute" becomes a never-ending mantra to which I cling desperately.
The first is with my kids. When the inevitable chant of "Mommy, I..." begins...oh, you know the one. It goes something like this: "Mommy, I'm hungry. Mommy, I'm thirsty. Mommy, I want to watch a movie. Mommy, I want to go to the park. Mommy, I want a fruit snack. Mommy, I need to go potty. Mommy, turn the light off. Mommy, open the door. Mommy, close the door." When that begins, my answering lifeline is "Just a minute."
Now, I'll be honest. When I say "just a minute" to my kids, what I really mean is, "I'm hoping I can finish up whatever it is I'm doing before I get to grabbing that third sucker that's going to end up on the carpet or the glass of milk that will end up curdled under your bed." That minute means a currently undetermined length of time that might stretch to infinity if I'm lucky. I'm usually not.
The second is with my workouts. Twice a week I do a high intensity interval training session in which I do a one-minute-on, one-minute-off routine of high intensity exercises like jumping jacks or speed skaters. And when I'm in the one-minute-on, all I say over and over is, "It's just a minute, just a minute, just a minute." And I struggle to not glance over at the timer every two seconds to see just how much of that minute is left.
What amazes me is how the same amount of time can be so different considering the situation. When I'm delaying responding to the constant (and often unnecessary) demands of my children, those sixty seconds race by faster than the speed of light. When I'm working out, struggling for breath and dripping sweat, those sixty seconds are interminable. They never seem to end.
If you're looking for an overall point to all this, well, there really isn't one. Just that time really is relative, even in the mundane day-to-day. That's all I got.
Until next time....
The first is with my kids. When the inevitable chant of "Mommy, I..." begins...oh, you know the one. It goes something like this: "Mommy, I'm hungry. Mommy, I'm thirsty. Mommy, I want to watch a movie. Mommy, I want to go to the park. Mommy, I want a fruit snack. Mommy, I need to go potty. Mommy, turn the light off. Mommy, open the door. Mommy, close the door." When that begins, my answering lifeline is "Just a minute."
Now, I'll be honest. When I say "just a minute" to my kids, what I really mean is, "I'm hoping I can finish up whatever it is I'm doing before I get to grabbing that third sucker that's going to end up on the carpet or the glass of milk that will end up curdled under your bed." That minute means a currently undetermined length of time that might stretch to infinity if I'm lucky. I'm usually not.
The second is with my workouts. Twice a week I do a high intensity interval training session in which I do a one-minute-on, one-minute-off routine of high intensity exercises like jumping jacks or speed skaters. And when I'm in the one-minute-on, all I say over and over is, "It's just a minute, just a minute, just a minute." And I struggle to not glance over at the timer every two seconds to see just how much of that minute is left.
What amazes me is how the same amount of time can be so different considering the situation. When I'm delaying responding to the constant (and often unnecessary) demands of my children, those sixty seconds race by faster than the speed of light. When I'm working out, struggling for breath and dripping sweat, those sixty seconds are interminable. They never seem to end.
If you're looking for an overall point to all this, well, there really isn't one. Just that time really is relative, even in the mundane day-to-day. That's all I got.
Until next time....
Thursday, March 6, 2014
March 6, 2014--Focusing in and making each day count
For those of you who may not know, yesterday was Ash Wednesday. It is the day that, for the Christian population, marks the beginning of a 40 day period known as Lent. Without going into a huge bout of theology, let it be simply said that Lent is supposed to be a time of reflection and focus, of prayer and repentance.
Many Christian denominations, most notably the Roman Catholics, either require or suggest that as Christians, we give something up for Lent, thereby denying ourselves something that we really enjoy in order to focus in more on Christ and His ultimate sacrifice for us. Some denominations, like my own, Lutheran, also suggest that rather than giving something up, we add something into our daily lives, be it devotions or Bible studies, etc.
Now, the reason I go into all of this is not to be preachy or to suggest than any reader should or must do any of these things. It is simply a bit of background to give context to what I will say next.
I went to church last night, received my ashes on my forehead and listened to my pastor give an excellent sermon. I also listened to his suggestions about what I might do differently during Lent to focus in on what's really important, specifically Christ's presence in my life. And it really got me thinking that in many aspects of my life, I've lost focus on what's really important. Not just spiritually, although that too is an issue. But mentally, physically, when it comes to my kids. Last night made me realize that I really needed to buckle down in a lot of areas, take a hard look at my priorities and make some changes.
As many of you know, I am a proclaimed Christian. I make no effort to hide that facet of my life. I know that many people, some of my readers probably included, don't have the best opinions of Christians overall, because of the hypocrisy and prejudice that unfortunately seems to dominate popular "Christian" opinion these days. But that is part of the reason why it is so important for me to make the Christian aspect of my life a higher day-to-day priority. Because the hypocrisy and the prejudice and the hatred is not what being a Christian is supposed to be about. And if people like me, who don't believe that way, don't stand up and make our voices heard, we're not doing what Christ bid us to do.
Christ bid us to love God and to love one another. He did not tell us to go out and judge those who are different than us. He told us to teach, to offer encouragement, to love and support. To include, not exclude. Unfortunately, that is not the message that the non-Christian world seems to be receiving. And that is a very depressing thought for me.
And so spiritually, the best thing I can do, for both myself and others, is to focus in on Christ's presence in my life so that it can be reflected in others'. To spend more time in Scripture. To remember to pray, not only when things get really rough, but also in the good times. To remember that God is responsible for all of the blessings in my life, not just fixing the problems in my life.
As for the other aspects of my life, well, they need some changes too.
I can do more as a wife and a mother. I can focus more on being helpful and supportive to my husband and being a better parent to my children. I'm really not sure why I didn't know this, or maybe it's just been that up until this point I've been spoiled, seeing as my kids have just naturally seemed to behave well. But they're both toddlers now, and the battles are starting. Til now, I haven't fought very hard to win them and that's a problem. I'm the parent. They're the children. It's my job--the burden is on me--to make the right decisions for them, even when it's not what they want. Because I know what's best for them, when they can't at two and three, have any idea what's best for them.
I need to stop using stress as an excuse to cheat on my goal to get healthy. I have to stop using the fact that I'm tired or I'm stressed as the reason for why I didn't work out today (or for the last week for that matter) or the reason that I'm guzzling soda just as quickly as I can. I've worked too hard to make the progress I have and it still amazes me how easily and quickly I can fall off the wagon. And stay off it for longer than is acceptable. I am always going to be tired. There is always going to be stress in my life. I have to learn to handle it better. And handling it better, for me at least, ties into focusing in spiritually. Handling it better means praying for strength and for patience and for determination. Handling it better means really focusing in on and believing that God is in control and is going to take care of me and my family. He will provide for us everything we need, whether Chaz gets paid or not.
It's all connected. Each aspect plays into another, so to change one, I really do have to change them all. I have to start focusing on what's really important in my life. Christ. My husband. My kids. My health. Money comes and goes. But time can't be retrieved. There's no getting it back. So each day has to count. And I haven't been making them count.
So, here's to trying harder to make each day count.
Until next time...
Many Christian denominations, most notably the Roman Catholics, either require or suggest that as Christians, we give something up for Lent, thereby denying ourselves something that we really enjoy in order to focus in more on Christ and His ultimate sacrifice for us. Some denominations, like my own, Lutheran, also suggest that rather than giving something up, we add something into our daily lives, be it devotions or Bible studies, etc.
Now, the reason I go into all of this is not to be preachy or to suggest than any reader should or must do any of these things. It is simply a bit of background to give context to what I will say next.
I went to church last night, received my ashes on my forehead and listened to my pastor give an excellent sermon. I also listened to his suggestions about what I might do differently during Lent to focus in on what's really important, specifically Christ's presence in my life. And it really got me thinking that in many aspects of my life, I've lost focus on what's really important. Not just spiritually, although that too is an issue. But mentally, physically, when it comes to my kids. Last night made me realize that I really needed to buckle down in a lot of areas, take a hard look at my priorities and make some changes.
As many of you know, I am a proclaimed Christian. I make no effort to hide that facet of my life. I know that many people, some of my readers probably included, don't have the best opinions of Christians overall, because of the hypocrisy and prejudice that unfortunately seems to dominate popular "Christian" opinion these days. But that is part of the reason why it is so important for me to make the Christian aspect of my life a higher day-to-day priority. Because the hypocrisy and the prejudice and the hatred is not what being a Christian is supposed to be about. And if people like me, who don't believe that way, don't stand up and make our voices heard, we're not doing what Christ bid us to do.
Christ bid us to love God and to love one another. He did not tell us to go out and judge those who are different than us. He told us to teach, to offer encouragement, to love and support. To include, not exclude. Unfortunately, that is not the message that the non-Christian world seems to be receiving. And that is a very depressing thought for me.
And so spiritually, the best thing I can do, for both myself and others, is to focus in on Christ's presence in my life so that it can be reflected in others'. To spend more time in Scripture. To remember to pray, not only when things get really rough, but also in the good times. To remember that God is responsible for all of the blessings in my life, not just fixing the problems in my life.
As for the other aspects of my life, well, they need some changes too.
I can do more as a wife and a mother. I can focus more on being helpful and supportive to my husband and being a better parent to my children. I'm really not sure why I didn't know this, or maybe it's just been that up until this point I've been spoiled, seeing as my kids have just naturally seemed to behave well. But they're both toddlers now, and the battles are starting. Til now, I haven't fought very hard to win them and that's a problem. I'm the parent. They're the children. It's my job--the burden is on me--to make the right decisions for them, even when it's not what they want. Because I know what's best for them, when they can't at two and three, have any idea what's best for them.
I need to stop using stress as an excuse to cheat on my goal to get healthy. I have to stop using the fact that I'm tired or I'm stressed as the reason for why I didn't work out today (or for the last week for that matter) or the reason that I'm guzzling soda just as quickly as I can. I've worked too hard to make the progress I have and it still amazes me how easily and quickly I can fall off the wagon. And stay off it for longer than is acceptable. I am always going to be tired. There is always going to be stress in my life. I have to learn to handle it better. And handling it better, for me at least, ties into focusing in spiritually. Handling it better means praying for strength and for patience and for determination. Handling it better means really focusing in on and believing that God is in control and is going to take care of me and my family. He will provide for us everything we need, whether Chaz gets paid or not.
It's all connected. Each aspect plays into another, so to change one, I really do have to change them all. I have to start focusing on what's really important in my life. Christ. My husband. My kids. My health. Money comes and goes. But time can't be retrieved. There's no getting it back. So each day has to count. And I haven't been making them count.
So, here's to trying harder to make each day count.
Until next time...
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
February 11, 2014--Do your thing
"Do your thing. Do it unapologetically. Don't be discouraged by criticism. You probably already know what they're going to say. Pay no mind to the fear of failure. It is far more valuable than success. Take ownership, take chances, and have fun. And no matter what, don't ever stop doing your thing."
I found this quote this morning while perusing Facebook and thought it was worth drawing attention to. It is so appropriate for my life right now. With the decisions I've made so far this year, focusing on positive changes that need to happen, this was what I needed to see to remind myself that I'm doing all the right things.
I'm getting healthy. I'm eating better, working out, and yes, I started taking a weight loss supplement. It's what is working for me. If I choose to cheat, that's on me, just like it's on me when I make the right decisions. I will no longer feel guilty for feeling good about myself, even if the people around me don't feel good about themselves. I will no longer let other people's negativity keep me from chasing down my own goals. I will continue to dread stepping on the scale and pulling out the tape measure, because the fear that I haven't made any progress is better motivation than the complacency that comes with knowing I have. I'm taking ownership over my weight and I feel great about that.
I officially started my new book yesterday. I'm only 1800 words in (due to some scheduling conflicts) but I started. I'm done listening to the never-ending blabber that I need to go back and finish my degree. That I need to use my massage license, because if I don't, I'm wasting my education. That I can do so much more with my life. I'm doing what I want to do with my life. And I know that some people think I'm crazy, that I'm silly and naive and will be disappointed. But I know better. This is what I want for myself. It's been a dream that I've packed up and hidden away because other people have said it was unrealistic. Well, I'm making it a reality.
I am many things. I am a wife. I am a mother. I am a child of God. I am a natural blonde. I am a lover of chocolate and a hater of mushrooms. I am also an author. It's who I am and I'm finally okay with that. More accurately, I'm okay with the fact that other people might not understand or support that.
As a Christian, I firmly believe that God has a plan and a path for each of us to follow. I also believe that it's very easy to be influenced by the things and people around us and step off that path. I believe that everything happens for a reason and because of that, I can't regret anything that has happened in the past. I don't regret my education, I don't regret the changes I've made in the past. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like the path God has laid out for me is shining bright and clear in front of me.
I'm back in church regularly. More importantly, I'm involved in church. I'm taking more time with my kids. I'm taking more time for myself. And I am finally making decisions, difficult as they may be today, that will set my family up for a better tomorrow.
I'm taking ownership of my life. I'm doing my thing. And I will no longer apologize for it.
You shouldn't either.
I found this quote this morning while perusing Facebook and thought it was worth drawing attention to. It is so appropriate for my life right now. With the decisions I've made so far this year, focusing on positive changes that need to happen, this was what I needed to see to remind myself that I'm doing all the right things.
I'm getting healthy. I'm eating better, working out, and yes, I started taking a weight loss supplement. It's what is working for me. If I choose to cheat, that's on me, just like it's on me when I make the right decisions. I will no longer feel guilty for feeling good about myself, even if the people around me don't feel good about themselves. I will no longer let other people's negativity keep me from chasing down my own goals. I will continue to dread stepping on the scale and pulling out the tape measure, because the fear that I haven't made any progress is better motivation than the complacency that comes with knowing I have. I'm taking ownership over my weight and I feel great about that.
I officially started my new book yesterday. I'm only 1800 words in (due to some scheduling conflicts) but I started. I'm done listening to the never-ending blabber that I need to go back and finish my degree. That I need to use my massage license, because if I don't, I'm wasting my education. That I can do so much more with my life. I'm doing what I want to do with my life. And I know that some people think I'm crazy, that I'm silly and naive and will be disappointed. But I know better. This is what I want for myself. It's been a dream that I've packed up and hidden away because other people have said it was unrealistic. Well, I'm making it a reality.
I am many things. I am a wife. I am a mother. I am a child of God. I am a natural blonde. I am a lover of chocolate and a hater of mushrooms. I am also an author. It's who I am and I'm finally okay with that. More accurately, I'm okay with the fact that other people might not understand or support that.
As a Christian, I firmly believe that God has a plan and a path for each of us to follow. I also believe that it's very easy to be influenced by the things and people around us and step off that path. I believe that everything happens for a reason and because of that, I can't regret anything that has happened in the past. I don't regret my education, I don't regret the changes I've made in the past. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like the path God has laid out for me is shining bright and clear in front of me.
I'm back in church regularly. More importantly, I'm involved in church. I'm taking more time with my kids. I'm taking more time for myself. And I am finally making decisions, difficult as they may be today, that will set my family up for a better tomorrow.
I'm taking ownership of my life. I'm doing my thing. And I will no longer apologize for it.
You shouldn't either.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
January 28, 2014--Nighttime fear and anxiety
I spent last night at home alone with the kids. My in-laws were out of town for some personal reasons and my husband left yesterday afternoon to go out of town for the week for work. While basically having the house to myself yesterday during the day was heaven, at night....not so much.
I have a terribly irrational fear of being alone home with the kids at night. Even more specifically, I am scared of being asleep alone with the kids at night. When there are no adults in the house, my mind starts to race with all of the different scenarios that could happen. Someone breaking into the house. Someone breaking into the house with a gun. Someone breaking through the girls' window and snatching them while I sleep. Someone breaking in and hurting the girls. Someone breaking in and hurting me and then taking the girls. And the list goes on and on and on.
I stayed up watching TV until midnight. Before laying down, I locked both doors, knobs and deadbolts and I checked all the windows to make sure they were locked. I finally laid down and stayed up reading a while longer. When I put the book down and turned the light off, my chest got tight and my heart began to race. I don't know how long I laid there debating as to whether I should go and get Daphnie and bring her to sleep in my room (Aubrey was already there). I again agonized over the fact that despite the numerous times we'd talked about it, Chaz hadn't shown me how to use the small revolver that stays within close reach in our bedroom--though out of reach of the girls. I prayed, and then prayed some more. I tried deep breathing. I tried visualizing. In the end, it took reciting lines from The Lion King (which I can recite, line for line, from beginning to end from memory) until the point of exhaustion for me to finally fall asleep.
I'm not sure what to do about this. We live in a fairly safe neighborhood. While the cops might get called occasionally for the random domestic dispute, I don't know that I've ever heard of a break-in in the four years I've lived here. My next door neighbor knows pretty much everybody on the street and is kind of known as the unofficial law enforcement. It's not like I'm living in Chicago or New York or Los Angelos--bad things don't happen regularly here. There's not a nightly news story about a shooting on Goulding Street. But when I'm home by myself, all I see are those non-existent headlines.
I know that I'm fairly safe in my home. I have locked doors. I have a firearm. I have a long history with martial arts training. Most importantly, I know that God is watching over me and the girls. But knowing all of that doesn't stop the anxiety from hitting hardcore whenever I'm alone at night with my girls. I am terrified that something will happen to them. It's not even about me. I am so scared that I will sleep through something happening to them--which is ridiculous, because I'm a light sleeper anyway, even before the crazy maternal instinct kicks on. But there it is.
I really don't know what to do about this. I don't know if it might be considered some sort of phobia. I don't know if talking to someone about it would help, or what I could do to feel better prepared for nights like this. Part of me feels like I should just try really hard to make sure I don't end up by myself. Beyond that, all I know is it scares me, and I don't like being scared. Having a history of panic attacks, the anxiety is a trigger and the last thing I need to do is have an attack in front of the girls with no one there to bring me down.
I'm not scared by a lot of things. Ok, spiders yes, but I'd put that in a whole different category. I don't fear for my life or the life of my girls in the presence of a spider. I just jump, squeal and then kill it if I can. But this, this I'm scared of and it's beyond rational and it's not okay.
I just don't know what to do about it....
I have a terribly irrational fear of being alone home with the kids at night. Even more specifically, I am scared of being asleep alone with the kids at night. When there are no adults in the house, my mind starts to race with all of the different scenarios that could happen. Someone breaking into the house. Someone breaking into the house with a gun. Someone breaking through the girls' window and snatching them while I sleep. Someone breaking in and hurting the girls. Someone breaking in and hurting me and then taking the girls. And the list goes on and on and on.
I stayed up watching TV until midnight. Before laying down, I locked both doors, knobs and deadbolts and I checked all the windows to make sure they were locked. I finally laid down and stayed up reading a while longer. When I put the book down and turned the light off, my chest got tight and my heart began to race. I don't know how long I laid there debating as to whether I should go and get Daphnie and bring her to sleep in my room (Aubrey was already there). I again agonized over the fact that despite the numerous times we'd talked about it, Chaz hadn't shown me how to use the small revolver that stays within close reach in our bedroom--though out of reach of the girls. I prayed, and then prayed some more. I tried deep breathing. I tried visualizing. In the end, it took reciting lines from The Lion King (which I can recite, line for line, from beginning to end from memory) until the point of exhaustion for me to finally fall asleep.
I'm not sure what to do about this. We live in a fairly safe neighborhood. While the cops might get called occasionally for the random domestic dispute, I don't know that I've ever heard of a break-in in the four years I've lived here. My next door neighbor knows pretty much everybody on the street and is kind of known as the unofficial law enforcement. It's not like I'm living in Chicago or New York or Los Angelos--bad things don't happen regularly here. There's not a nightly news story about a shooting on Goulding Street. But when I'm home by myself, all I see are those non-existent headlines.
I know that I'm fairly safe in my home. I have locked doors. I have a firearm. I have a long history with martial arts training. Most importantly, I know that God is watching over me and the girls. But knowing all of that doesn't stop the anxiety from hitting hardcore whenever I'm alone at night with my girls. I am terrified that something will happen to them. It's not even about me. I am so scared that I will sleep through something happening to them--which is ridiculous, because I'm a light sleeper anyway, even before the crazy maternal instinct kicks on. But there it is.
I really don't know what to do about this. I don't know if it might be considered some sort of phobia. I don't know if talking to someone about it would help, or what I could do to feel better prepared for nights like this. Part of me feels like I should just try really hard to make sure I don't end up by myself. Beyond that, all I know is it scares me, and I don't like being scared. Having a history of panic attacks, the anxiety is a trigger and the last thing I need to do is have an attack in front of the girls with no one there to bring me down.
I'm not scared by a lot of things. Ok, spiders yes, but I'd put that in a whole different category. I don't fear for my life or the life of my girls in the presence of a spider. I just jump, squeal and then kill it if I can. But this, this I'm scared of and it's beyond rational and it's not okay.
I just don't know what to do about it....
Friday, January 24, 2014
January 24, 2014: And so the journey begins
Just recently I finally and fully embraced my desire to be an author; to make writing a career, not just a hobby. And while I know that there is a lot that goes into getting my work published, right now the goal is to focus on creating said work. If I want my name out there in print, it has to be on something.
So my goal for 2014 is to finish a complete rough draft of my first book. At the same time, I'm trying to remember to jot down notes on new ideas, new thoughts that pop into my head. I've decided to try outlining, before I start writing, because I already have so many ideas for the plot, I don't want to forget them. I haven't outlined since high school, so it should be a fun exercise.
I've also gotten back into my poetry writing, which I've put on hold for quite a while. So many other things have gotten in the way over the last six months or so; I'm having to try to remember to carve out some time for me, outside of the housework and toddler watching and errand running.
One thing I've realized about myself recently though, is that my people-pleasing habits that I've been trying so hard to break have spilled over into my writing. I've noticed that when I sit down to write, I start wondering, almost immediately, if what I'm writing is going to be something people are going to like. Should I write it this way, or will that upset people? Should I do it this way, even if it's not really what I want to do, because I think it will get a better reaction from the audience? And that's when I realize that as much as I've been trying to have more self-confidence, I haven't quite got it down yet. It's headed in the right direction, but it hasn't quite reached that final destination.
I know I'm talented. I know I can write well. I've had numerous people who know about writing tell me so. Teachers, professors, mentors and peers. They all seem quite confident in my abilities. So why am I not?
The fact is, I am. I've just got to hold on to that part of myself, that believes in myself and is focused on pleasing myself, rather than what might please everyone around me. The people who truly love me and care about me are going to support me, whether they personally like what I've written or not. And as for everyone else~~who cares? There are millions upon millions of people out there who read. Some are going to love what I write, some are going to think it's so-so, and some would rather use it as toilet paper. And that's okay.
The point is, writing makes me happy. It makes me feel fulfilled. It gives me a sense of accomplishment. And I know, that sooner or later, I will get published. On some level. Will I ever write a New York Times bestseller? I don't know. I dream that I can. I hope that I can. But there are so many outlets for publication these days. One of them will work out for me.
And with that being said, I'm going to quit stalling with the blogging, and get back to my outline. Cuz Lord knows, my book's not going to write itself.
So my goal for 2014 is to finish a complete rough draft of my first book. At the same time, I'm trying to remember to jot down notes on new ideas, new thoughts that pop into my head. I've decided to try outlining, before I start writing, because I already have so many ideas for the plot, I don't want to forget them. I haven't outlined since high school, so it should be a fun exercise.
I've also gotten back into my poetry writing, which I've put on hold for quite a while. So many other things have gotten in the way over the last six months or so; I'm having to try to remember to carve out some time for me, outside of the housework and toddler watching and errand running.
One thing I've realized about myself recently though, is that my people-pleasing habits that I've been trying so hard to break have spilled over into my writing. I've noticed that when I sit down to write, I start wondering, almost immediately, if what I'm writing is going to be something people are going to like. Should I write it this way, or will that upset people? Should I do it this way, even if it's not really what I want to do, because I think it will get a better reaction from the audience? And that's when I realize that as much as I've been trying to have more self-confidence, I haven't quite got it down yet. It's headed in the right direction, but it hasn't quite reached that final destination.
I know I'm talented. I know I can write well. I've had numerous people who know about writing tell me so. Teachers, professors, mentors and peers. They all seem quite confident in my abilities. So why am I not?
The fact is, I am. I've just got to hold on to that part of myself, that believes in myself and is focused on pleasing myself, rather than what might please everyone around me. The people who truly love me and care about me are going to support me, whether they personally like what I've written or not. And as for everyone else~~who cares? There are millions upon millions of people out there who read. Some are going to love what I write, some are going to think it's so-so, and some would rather use it as toilet paper. And that's okay.
The point is, writing makes me happy. It makes me feel fulfilled. It gives me a sense of accomplishment. And I know, that sooner or later, I will get published. On some level. Will I ever write a New York Times bestseller? I don't know. I dream that I can. I hope that I can. But there are so many outlets for publication these days. One of them will work out for me.
And with that being said, I'm going to quit stalling with the blogging, and get back to my outline. Cuz Lord knows, my book's not going to write itself.
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