Today has been a busy day. My husband invited some people over for supper and I have spent the last two days preparing for that. Not that I’m doing some fancy dinner party, but more that I have been having to clean an entire summer’s worth of clutter and mess. I haven’t had any guests inside my house in a couple months and it shows. We only have AC in the bedrooms so our house isn’t the best place to entertain in the summer, and fortunately it’s been a cool summer so I’ve been able to do get-togethers out on my back deck without being miserable. Also, my kids adopted the living room as their playroom this summer and I’ve got a lego city set up on the coffee table and have had various block houses with all kinds of interesting characters scattered all over the living room floor. We have several different building sets and they’ve all been used and then not put away properly. Then one of my teen boys gave his younger siblings his lego collection that he doesn’t use any more and it has been a lego bonanza all over the downstairs. (Which doesn’t really make sense. The kids have AC in their bedrooms, why don’t they want to play with their toys in their bedrooms?)

All that to say, cleaning up was a project. I am happy to announce that I now have all the building blocks sorted into their own containers, legos are put away (except for the city on the coffee table), random bits and pieces have been sent upstairs to toy boxes and my house is wonderfully clean. I have been snapping left and right as my whole family tries to undo all the work. That doesn’t go there! Put it away! Don’t leave that there! Don’t eat that in the living room! Just give me one day with everything clean!!

I was standing by the kitchen sink later, peeling ten pounds of potatoes and I found myself humming the old Sunday school song, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I’ll follow him always, he leads me by still waters, I’ll follow him always. Always, Always, I’ll follow him always, Always, Always, I’ll follow him always…” And I thought about the line, He leads me by still waters, and I felt very much like that was what Jesus was doing for me right then. Leading me by still waters. My house was clean. I was preparing food for my family and friends. We had all worked hard and now I could move at a leisurely pace as I prepared a meal. It felt very peaceful. Restful. Fulfilling.

I know the last time I wrote about “He Restores My Soul” and how that happened through having a vacation that wasn’t always comfortable and relaxing. And I find it funny that “He leads me by still waters” also has nothing to do with peaceful inactivity and leisure. But rather through meaningful hard work that benefits me and a whole bunch of other people.

So often I interpret God blessing me to mean that he is going to remove me from this human experience and transport me to paradise. And instead he invites me to enter into this human experience more deeply. See the good and the beauty that is tangled up with the bad and the ugly. Find joy in experiencing all the emotions, joy and pain, instead of keeping everything sterile and safe, and deadened. Get restored by facing some challenges. Find peace by doing a job well and blessing others with the work of your hands.

I love how God does things so different from how I imagine it should go. I love looking up from peeling potatoes and realizing that Jesus is taking care of me and has unexpectedly gifted me with peace.

He leads me by still waters, I’ll follow him always.

You  know, there is something powerful about going to bed and waking up the next day and starting fresh.

Yesterday, I was tired. Feeling overwhelmed. Feeling very uncertain about my ability to do anything. It’s July, and I had a big list of things I had been putting off until July. Like thinking about the next school year and buying school clothes, and shoes, and supplies. Getting ready to teach piano lessons in August. Preparing for a beach camping trip. And thinking more in depth on my own future. 

I was also feeling defeated because I continue to struggle with my blood sugar. My fasting blood sugar has come way down, (yay) but I can’t get my morning numbers down. And I’ve tried every combination I can think of. Fasting. Eating a small amount of protein early in the morning. Eating a small carb and protein. Exercising first thing. Not exercising. 

Last night I was feeling very grumpy. I hadn’t done my exercise for the day, more because I felt so exhausted I could hardly move. I had to take my teens to youth group since my driving teen is out of town. And I didn’t feel like leaving the house. And if I was going to take them to youth it made sense to just go to the park and take a long walk while I was waiting to bring them home. And while that sounded sensible and healthy, it didn’t sound fun. 

I went to the park anyway and walked 3.5 miles. And I felt better about life afterwards. And this morning I woke up feeling hopeful. A lot more energy. Better perspective. 

You know how when your computer or your phone just suddenly stop working properly and so you turn it off and then turn it back on again. I think that’s what going to bed and waking up the next day is for us. Shut down. Turn it back on. It’s working again. Who knows why. It’s magic. 🙂 

So, this is my advice. Having a bad day? Power through the best you can (Take a walk if possible!), and wait for tomorrow.

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

My husband and seventeen year old just got back from a ten day trip to Columbia. They went to serve a community there by running a VBS for the kids, a women’s night out, a men’s night out, and a weekend retreat for the youth. They were busy. During this same time, my fifteen, fourteen, twelve, and ten year old joined YWAM Knoxville for a six day outreach to some remote Appalachian communities where they ran a day camp for kids and had evening VBS in several locations. They were up early, went to bed late, and worked hard all day. I was really glad that all my family members were able to participate in these things.

In the meantime, I stayed home with my two little boys, and my oldest, and took care of the mundane things. Grocery shopping. Meals. Dishes. Feed the animals. We’ve had a flea problem with our pets so I spent several days working on de-fleaing my home. Church. Laundry. Pretty mundane stuff. We had some trips to Grandma’s house to break up the monotony which was nice, but even that we kept low-key.

I thought about writing a blog about the Power of the Mundane. How it’s an important job to have someone home tending the fires, keeping things running. How, without someone doing the mundane stuff, it wouldn’t be possible for other people to go do the adventurous and exciting stuff. How our role in the home is often unseen, but so very important. But, I didn’t write about that, because I wasn’t feeling it. I was feeling tired. Irritated. Wanting a break. And when my husband texted me on his last day in Columbia to say they were able to go to the beach, I was genuinely glad that he was getting to do something fun, but at the same time feeling hot and bothered that I had family members on the beach in Columbia, while my schedule for the day was to vacuum and sweep and mop my entire house.

Just being real here. 😏

But, I was able to get some perspective.

Someone asked me if I wished I could have gone with my husband. And I thought about it and the answer was genuinely, No. All of my family spent their entire time gone talking and interacting with new people. Making connections. Reaching out to others. As an introvert and someone who has been feeling emotionally depleted for a while now, spending a big chunk of time talking to other people does not sound good. I know that I don’t have that in me at the moment.

I think what has surprised me about this time has been the peace I have felt despite all the irritation. I know that God has good things for me too, that I don’t have to resign myself to just being a dishwasher and laundry folder for the rest of my life. There are adventures and excitement out there for me too. And they’ll come at the right time and be the right kind of adventure that suits me, my personality, and where I am at in life.

In the meantime, I will continue to do the tasks set in front of me. Be Master of the Mundane. Keep the household running, and really enjoy the fact that most of my family is home now.

It’s a beautiful Sunday morning. Sun is up. Birds are singing. Most of my kids are still asleep. It’s cool outside. I’m reminded of a Sunday morning from my childhood. I can’t remember why, but my brother and I were staying at my Grandparnt’s house on the 4VEH missionary compound in Vaudreuil, Haiti. I was twelve years old. I always woke up with the sunrise in Haiti. You could hear birds singing, roosters crowing. Maybe some donkeys braying. I could hear movement in the house as my Grandmother bustled around, getting breakfast on the table.

My Grandmother was a very scheduled person. Before we went to bed, the night before, she would have told us the exact time that breakfast would be served, and no one would even think of being late. The table was in the dining room that also opened into the living room on one side, and a doorway into the kitchen on another side. The table was always set very precisely. Cloth napkins with napkin rings. My Grandma really liked napkin rings and she had an individualized napkin ring for each member of the family, including grandkids. She used a label machine to print tiny neat labels for her and Grandpa’s napkin ring. No confusing who’s ring belonged to whom.

She always had two glasses at her and Grandpa’s table setting. A small glass for juice, and a larger glass for water. I remember eating pancakes and watching with great interest as my Grandpa would take a mango, cut it neatly into cubes and then put the cubes on his pancakes, along with a big dollop of homemade plain yogurt. It did not look appetizing to me. Maybe mango by itself, but on pancakes?? My brother, across the table, would spend a great deal of time spreading rich Haitian peanut butter on his pancakes, before he covered them with syrup. I shook my head and opted for the traditional syrup and butter.

We would eat and then wait until my Grandmother took out her Bible and read a Psalm for the day. The rhythmic clicking of the ceiling fans, the constant tick tock of the wall clock, birds singing, and scripture being read aloud, this was a Sunday morning.

After breakfast had been cleaned up there was a bustle to get ready for church. Make sure your hair is brushed neatly. Do you have your Bible? My Grandmother would walk out of her room and hand cardboard fans to my brother and I so we could fan ourselves during the service. She had a whole collection of cardboard fans and fancy women’s fans. The cardboard fans might have a pretty picture of flowers and scripture written on it. (If you haven’t seen these before, imagine a rectangle of thin cardboard, glued to a popsicle stick, voila, personal air conditioning at its best.)

Then my Grandmother would hand my brother and I a Haitian hymnbook. In Haiti, at that time, there was one standard hymnbook. Everyone was responsible to buy their own hymnbook and bring it to church every Sunday. I am presuming that all the churches used the same hymnbook, no matter what denomination, as I know our family visited many different types of churches, but it was always the same hymn book. (If I’ve got that wrong, forgive me, I was a kid, not paying attention to a lot of details.)

Armed with a Bible, hymnbook and fan, we were now ready for church. The church my Grandparents attended was only a couple minutes walk away, but by that time, my Grandparents were moving slower so we would pile into their light blue peugot and drive the short distance to the church. Then the endurance game began.

I was not fluent in Creole, and even my mom, who spoke Creole very well, had a hard time following along in a Haitian church service. Everyone spoke so fast. Our job as missionary kids was to sit quietly and pretend like we were paying attention.

The hymn singing was at least interesting. The words were printed out so I could gather the meaning better and I always loved singing. But then finally it was sermon time.

Let me set the scene first though. The church was made of concrete block. It had high ceilings and a large cavernous sanctuary. The walls were covered in windows (the kind that is made by simply leaving artistic spaces unblocked) and the doorways were all open, trying to let as much airflow as possible happen. The space was crammed full of long wooden benches. The benches in the front of the church had backs, but the farther back you went, the more basic the benches became, just a long wooden plank. There were bright banners and ribbons hung everywhere. The church was packed, and everyone was in their Sunday best.

My Grandparents were considered honored members so they got to sit up front, which meant my brother and I had to sit up front, which meant we had to be on even better behavior. Everyone was crammed in as close together as possible to make room for everyone else.

Once the sermon started in earnest, I would pull out my English Bible. I figured out, early on, that you can get away with inattention, if you are reading your Bible. I eyed my Grandmother who was patiently fanning herself with her fancy blue lace fan, eyes forward, seeming to be completely caught up in the sermon. I pulled out my cardboard fan and gave a couple waves and then gave up. Flipped my Bible open to the Old Testament, (should I read Genesis, Joshua, Ruth, Kings?) and slowly lost myself in all the old stories. I think I can credit my great familiarity with the Old Testament with Haitian church. Trapped on a bench in blistering heat, nothing else to do except read my Bible.

Finally, several hours later, the service ended. The last speech, the last special music, the last prayer. Everyone stood up and started milling around. I stood patiently by my Grandmother while she greeted all the people around her, until she had a minute, and then whispered in her ear, can we walk back to your house and meet you there? She nodded her agreement, I nodded at my brother who was also waiting for permission, and we carefully edged ourselves out of the crowd and took off for my Grandparents house.

The rest of the day would be a big Sunday dinner, followed by my Grandparents taking a long nap. We were on our own for entertainment for the rest of the day. Read a book. Walk around outside. Nothing loud or too boisterous. A day of rest. Something I didn’t appreciate at that age, but now, it sounds wonderful.

P.S. One of my Grandma’s fans I inherited.