Tag: family

Free House: Comfortable in a Mess

Another day of cleaning. I finished the first clean of the Parlour. The armchair, tv, rug, and lamp all need to get thrown out. I’m not sure if the very old sound system is worth saving or not. It appears to still be working. And then we have to go through and deep clean. But, I’m working on the initial cleanout first. 

I think that our neighbor was doing most of her living in this room at the end. It looks like the chair was being used as a bed and there is a lot more food trash laying around. It was interesting, as I was cleaning I got the impression that this room had felt comfortable to our neighbor. I can’t say particularly why. But, it reminded me of my bedroom this past summer. 

I did not clean my bedroom this past summer. I had some standards. I kept the trash in the trashcan and the dirty clothes in the dirty laundry basket, but other than that, my room was completely taken over by clutter. Clean clothes that didn’t all make it in the drawer, papers that my cat knocked off my desk, still laying in a pile on the floor. The sock basket that my kids’ socks all live in was spilling socks everywhere. Stacks of books. No dirty dishes, I didn’t want bugs..but you get the idea. I thought about cleaning my room, but I didn’t want to. Not because I didn’t want to clean, but because I wanted the cluttered atmosphere. For whatever reason, this summer felt really overstimulating. The bright sun, intense heat, lots of activities to get kids to and from. Whenever I could, I retreated into my bedroom. It was cool. Not overly bright. And it felt comfortable to me. For some reason, the idea of cleaning up my room and making it neat and organized made me feel like I would then have to be productive when I was in my room. I didn’t want to be productive. I didn’t want to look at a perfectly organized desk and feel the need to pay bills, or write, or do some creative project. I just wanted to exist in my room with no outside pressure. So I didn’t clean it. I kept the rest of the house clean, because those were shared spaces that a bunch of us had to be comfortable in, and where I wanted to invite other people into as well. But, my room was for me (and my long suffering husband who obviously didn’t care enough, because he didn’t take the time to clean it either). 

When summer started coming to an end, I tackled my room, and several big cleanout projects in my house and got everything organized and ready to be productive in time for the new school year. But, as weird as it might be to some, I understand how you can be comfortable in a mess. 

Here’s what things looked like before I started.

Here’s the pile of trash.

And another pile of trash, ready to go out the window down into our trailer, except the trailer wasn’t there today, so my husband gets to do that when he has time. 

And here’s the end product. I think this is my favorite room. 

And here’s me, worn out after two hours of manual labor. 

Free House: Breaking the Stuff Connections

I went over this morning to the free house, my first time going solo without my husband. Last weeks’ goal was to clear a path to the front door, which I accomplished, yay! But, there was some strategy there. I wanted to be able to just walk in the front door instead of having to go through the basement, climb some questionable stairs, have to pass next to the really horrifying kitchen and then get to work. Andy found a mummified possum in the basement which he has removed, but my first acquaintance with the basement was with mummified possum intact which I had to carefully avoid looking at as I climbed the stairs, and honestly, I just found the whole thing a little creepy. So, the thought of working over there by myself meant I wanted a way to avoid the basement and kitchen, which is at the top of the basement stairs. 

So, today I walked in the front door! And straight into the living room. 

The living room was not as bad as the hallway. Less foodstuff. And everything was less compacted. I managed to clean it out in just under two hours. 

Which makes me a little sad. I found stuff on the bottom of the pile from 2002 which means this stuff has been accumulating for a long time. It only took two hours of work to make it all go away. Of course, it only took me two hours because I had no history with any of these belongings. I had no problem grabbing things and throwing them away. I found a good size pile of things that have never been opened and are still usable and I went and put them in our future yard sale pile, but I also found some things that were unopened but didn’t seem to serve any useful purpose, and I just tossed them. Cause I didn’t care. Those belongings had zero hold on me. 

I wonder how many problems we make for ourselves because we are so connected to our stuff? It has been a journey for me to let go of those connections. I remember when our first four or five kids were little. They could not keep their rooms clean. I could not keep their rooms clean. We simply had too many toys. And it’s not like I spent a lot of money on toys. In our culture, we have so much stuff that we are on a constant search for someone to give our stuff to. Hey, I’ve got a big box of really nice toys my kids don’t play with anymore, here, you can have them! And then suddenly, I have another big box of toys that I now need to find a home for, take care of and clean up every day. On one hand, it’s a blessing: Free entertainment for kids. On the other hand, that also translates to daily tears and frustration as mom and kids try to keep it all clean. 

Over the years I have slowly learned how to limit belongings, and also how to keep up with the belongings we do have. Lately, I’ve been dealing with my book connections. I have so many books in my home. Someone said that if you have more than 1,000 books it counts as a library. I have a library. Or, at least, I did. This summer I tackled my bookshelves. I got rid of a lot of my homeschooling supplies (after all, it has been eight years since I was homeschooling a crowd, four years since my last lone homeschooler went to school). I also got rid of a lot of early reader type books, because my youngest now reads long chapter books and isn’t interested in “Amelia Bedelia”. Sigh.  (Ok, confession, I did keep one bookshelf that has all the best read-aloud books, I’m still counting on grandkids coming over one day!) But, I managed to haul off several totes worth of books to the used bookstore. And my house is cleaner and easier to take care of because of it. 

The next belongings stronghold I need to tackle is memorabilia. Kids old school work and art work, old cards and letters, old programs from different events my kids have been in. I’m still really connected to all those things. This summer I bought a big tote and transferred several drawers and boxes worth of paper memories into the box, sealed it up and set it in the attic. With the hopes that I will leave it there for several years until I’ve forgotten about it and it no longer matters to me. At which point it will be easier to throw away. 

Stuff can make your life feel cozy, luxurious, abundant. But, I think it’s a really narrow line to where that stuff becomes a burden and sucks energy from your life. 

I can tell you that working in the house next door is definitely helping me to be wary about stuff, and a lot more hesitant about accumulating anything more. 

Free House: In Need of a Rescue

Andy and I went and worked two hours in the free house today. I had made a goal last time to make a path down the hallway to the front door and I succeeded!! This past weekend Andy worked miracles in the basement and today he made a big dent in the bathroom and came behind me with a deeper cleaning in the first part of the hallway. I put on the “Elevation Worship” station on my music app, Andy got lights and a fan plugged in and with him working close by, I did not feel the oppression that I felt last time I was in there.

As I dug through layer after layer of rotting newspapers, mildewy clothes, ratty Christmas ornaments, I felt like the house was telling the story of someone who was paralyzed by life. So many things to organize, so many things to clean, so many belongings to care for. I came across packages of garbage bags, opened, ready to be put to use, but then abandoned. I found boxes of cleaning supplies, long past their useful shelf-life, bags of newspapers, ready to be taken somewhere, but then never moved. Picture evidence of good intentions, never able to be seen through.

This morning I woke up before my alarm went off. Made muffins for the family before anyone was awake. Sat and had my devotions and a nice cup of tea. I helped kids get up, get themselves organized, helped pack lunches. Got everyone out the door on time and I was dressed and ready to go and tackle some cleaning next door. Can I tell you, this is not my norm. I would say my days are about 50/50. Some days I wake up and I’m ready to tackle the world. Other days I wake up and I can’t do anything. Getting dressed feels like labor, I forget about morning devotions even being a thing, I count heavily on my children being able to take care of themselves, and after doing the bare minimum I get glued to my chair and I can’t move. Sometimes, after a couple hours, the panic of undone tasks will finally kick me into gear and I’ll go into hyper-efficient mode, and still manage to get the things done before the end of the day. But some days, thankfully not too often, I will text my husband and tell him, this is going to be a Non-Day, I will keep the kids alive, but that’s about it.

This is my life, and I am someone who is surrounded by support systems. My husband is supportive, he knows my struggle with depression and when I tell him it’s a non-day, he always answers cheerfully to just rest and how can he help? My kids do their chores with very little fuss, and if I am out of commission, they are all capable of keeping the house running. My church is a phone call away, ready to pray or offer encouragement, or physical help if the need arises. I am able to go to church every week and spend time in God’s presence in worship, and hear God’s word. I have friends I can text or message. I can put on Facebook that I need prayer and eighty people will answer me that they are praying and offer words of encouragement. I am a well-supported person, any rescue I need is always readily available. Talk about being a wealthy person!

I think about my neighbor. As far as I can tell, her social circle was very small. Her significant other passed away years ago, and she never had any children. She wasn’t involved in any faith communities. But, her brother is still living, and five years ago, he convinced her to leave and go and live with him. And I am so thankful that she received her rescue.

While I was cleaning I had the praise music blasting, and the song “Graves Into Gardens” by Brandon Lake and Elevation Worship came on. One stanza really stood out to me, as I slowly turned chaos into order, rescuing the house one garbage bag at a time;

You turn graves into gardens
You turn bones into armies
You turn seas into highways
You’re the only one who can
You’re the only who can

Basement Before
Basement After
Goal: make a path to the front door.
Mission accomplished!
Thinking I might tackle the living room next.

New Glasses For This Daughter

I went and bought glasses yesterday. Paid for an eye exam first, then took my prescription over to Sam’s Club and picked out some glasses and paid for them. It was a lot of money. It felt a little overwhelming to be handing over that much money in one transaction. And I found myself muttering to the universe-at-large an apology for costing so much money. Which then drew me up short. Why was I feeling the need to apologize for buying myself glasses? 

I have started reading a new devotional book by my pastor, Mark Medley, called The Trinity Trilogy. It’s a daily devotional, going through the persons of the Trinity. I’m on day nine and it has been a really good experience. I find myself looking forward to my devotional time. I think the reason for that is, first, we read a good chunk of scripture, not just a random verse, but also because he asks some pretty hard heart questions every day to think about. The first section of the book is on the Father. Day three focuses on having an orphan heart versus being a true son and daughter. 

As I thought about my guilt over buying glasses, this theme about orphan hearts came to mind. I definitely struggle in this area. I was thinking about how, if I had to spend this glasses money on someone I didn’t know well, I could see myself feeling a little resentful that so much of our family resources were not going to the family. But, if I was buying this for my children, I would just be relieved that I had the money to spend and that my child now had what they needed. Their happiness would be my happiness, because I always want them to have everything they need. 

As a mom of many who has lived on a tight budget for a long time, it’s hard to remember that my famly feels the same way about me. If I have what I need, they are happy too. And it’s an even bigger stretch to realize that God feels that way about me too. 

I am very accustomed to being the parent. The one who’s job it is to make sacrifices so the kids can have what they need. It’s hard to remember that I am God’s daughter. And he actually wants me to have everything I need too. And it makes him happy when my needs are met as well. (That last sentence was hard to write!)

“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! Matthew 7:9-11

I’ll admit, I have never had a problem talking to Jesus. And my church has done a great job in helping me understand and enjoy the role of the Holy Spirit in my life, but knowing God as Father feels like the last hurdle. And oddly, I feel like this last year he has been slowly revealing himself to me as Father through taking care of my needs. Needs that I can’t live without, like food and shelter, but also the needs of my heart to have community, to be able to participate in music again, to find places where I can have deep discussions and exercise my brain. I keep getting surprised at how gracious he is being to me, and thankful, and a little uncertain as to what to do with all this goodness. 

My glasses are supposed to be ready in a week or so. I can’t wait to have unscratched lenses and a new prescription that won’t have me squinting at things. I told my husband how much I had spent on glasses and he frowned, then said, I should probably go buy one more pair as a back up. And it made me smile and feel loved and taken care of. Just like my Father wants me to feel. 

By the way, I highly recommend The Trinity Trilogy by Mark Medley. Just google it, there’s several places you can buy it. 

Dripping in Treasure

I have ten kids. Birthed all ten. The oldest was sixteen when I had my last. This was not an easy thing to do. I got hyperemesis with each pregnancy and was usually sick in bed for at least the first five months. It usually took about six months before I felt ok. I averaged twenty pounds weight loss just from throwing up, every time. I made at least one trip to the ER every pregnancy due to dehydration. I took expensive nausea medicine, but it did not relieve symptoms very much. 

When we first got married my husband and I both felt a strong conviction that we were supposed to trust God for the size of our family and we were not going to use birth control. Every time I had a baby, I revisited this decision. I looked at all the birth control options, prayed a lot, and every single time I did not feel peace to stop having kids. I loved our children, we adored our babies, the pregnancies were just so hard. When I was pregnant with our tenth, my husband and I made the decision that we were done having kids and made plans for a permanent birth control. We both felt a lot of peace about that decision, and I can honestly say, there has not been one time where I have regretted that choice or the timing of that choice. 

Over the years as I was sick in bed with another pregnancy, I went through a lot of different emotions. Anger, self-pity, doubt, resignation. But my conviction was stronger than my emotions. I knew this was something God had asked of me. Without a doubt. And so I had ten kids. 

Over the years I have watched how God has provided for us. We have never been without. Despite being a one income family, we have managed to raise our kids and provide what they need. Definitely not everything they want, but everything they need. 

Now, when I look at my life, I feel like one of the wealthiest women in the world. I am dripping in treasure. My life is so rich. My kids are amazing. They love each other. They love their parents. Our home is peaceful. Not quiet, but peaceful. Any time of the day I can look up and see my kids being creative, imaginative, enthusiastic, kind. They love going to church. They love worshipping Jesus. They do their work around the house without a big fuss, and they love helping others. I am bursting with pride over every single one of them. And I find my life as a stay-at-home mom something that uses all my talents and is fulfilling and meaningful. 

Last night we went and picked up our kids from church camp. We had seven kids at camp. One was there as a cook, two were there as counselors, another as a junior counselor, and then three as campers. The camp does a lot of performing arts, so the last night the parents come and see all the things their kids have learned. Flag performances, hip hop, drama, skits, dances. It was wonderful. I sat on the hillside in my camp chair and I watched my children worship God with full enthusiasm and emotion. One of the last songs they sang with all the kids was “The Blessing”  (Elevation Worship) which they had learned sign language to.  And as I watched and sang along, I sat there crying because I knew God had already blessed me. Richly. Unequivocally. Overflowing cup. 

Almost without fail, any time someone learns I have ten kids, they react with surprise and astonishment and a look on their face that easily translates as, “You’re crazy!” But every once in a while, there is someone who gets it and they say, “Wow, you are so blessed!” And I have to agree. Yes, I am. You have no idea how much. 

Thoughts on Parenting

I’ve been thinking about parenting.  

This weekend I asked one of the kids to do a chore. They were in a really bad mood and feeling overwhelmed with things they needed to do and so they told me, bluntly, that they were not going to do the chore. I was shocked. My kids do not say no to me. Not because I’m a harsh disciplinarian, but simply because we established when they were little that if your parents ask you to do a task, you do it. I pointed out to them that if they did not do it, it meant that someone else in the family was going to have to pick up their work. They did not budge. I walked away. 

I was really angry. But also confused as this is a good kid who is always willing to do their part and usually doesn’t even grumble about their chores. 

Now, in the past, the way I dealt with this was more lecturing, arguing, and then taking away some kind of privilege, like a phone, device, or screen time. The end result being that the task still didn’t get done and now my kid was just as angry as I was. Or maybe they did the task while screaming and fussing the entire time and then we all stayed mad for several days. 

But this time I took myself away from the situation. Talked to my husband. We both agreed this was unusual behavior. And I acknowledged that I could understand why they were feeling overwhelmed with the other tasks they had to do as well.  In the end I did nothing. My husband did the chore and my younger daughter helped him. My child finally calmed down from their bad mood and entered into some conversation with me. 

Now, I am still miffed that they said no. I plan to have further conversations where I can explain that I am always willing to listen to them if they’re unable to do something I’ve asked them to do, but we need to have a conversation about it that stays respectful.  If they had stopped and said, Mom, I’ve got a school project that I’m really stressed about and I have all these things I have to do to get ready for Monday, can someone else do the chore? Then we could have had a conversation about it and that would be a respectful way to handle it. And for my part, I need to be willing to take things into consideration when my child respectfully asks for a reprieve.  

In the past I would have been very concerned about my child disrespecting me and not being obedient and I would have responded harshly.  Now, by God’s grace, I’m a lot more concerned with how my child is doing, as a person. If they are acting out in some way, I want to know why, and what can we do to fix it? Maybe they are being selfish. Maybe they are being disrespectful. Maybe they are tired or overwhelmed. If it’s selfishness, let’s try to help them see other people and their needs and not just themselves and their own needs. If they’re being disrespectful, let’s talk about respect for adults, parents, other humans, and set firm boundaries in these areas. If they are tired, let’s teach them how to recognize that in themselves and learn the habit of getting alone and resting, instead of sticking around to argue over every little thing. If they’re overwhelmed, let’s teach them how to recognize that for what it is, and then get some help from a parent or someone else who can help them get caught up or organize their time. 

I remember when I first started parenting, all the books and classes on parenting that were so popular. And they all hammered into you exactly what a good parent was supposed to do. And if your child did not sleep through the night at 2 months old, did not practice first time obedience, threw tantrums in public, etc, then that meant that you were a failure as a parent. And I really absorbed that. When my kids misbehaved, it meant that I was failing. And that put a lot of pressure on me which I then transferred to my kids. Not a great atmosphere.

A million failures later, I think I’ve mostly learned to let go of that idea that I have to be a perfect parent and that my children’s behavior is a reflection of my worth. I am trying to see my kids as the little humans that they are, who are just as sinful and ornery as I am and need just as much grace and compassion as I do. And who need as much constant help, direction, and encouragement as I do. I still fail regularly, but I think my house is a lot more peaceful and my kids a lot less stressed than when I first started on this parenting journey.

.

The Art of Being Invisible

Being invisible has been one of my core defenses since I was very young. If people don’t see you they won’t tease you. Bully you. Ridicule you. If people don’t see you then they won’t know you. If they don’t know you they don’t have any power to hurt you. 

In our society there are a lot of ways to become invisible. Being overweight is a good one. I read this article one time of a woman who did an artistic photo journey of her transformation from obesity to normal weight. One of the key things that stood out in her photos was the invisibility of being overweight. We are a society that puts a heavy emphasis on physical beauty and if you don’t fit into that category, you become invisible. 

Another way to become invisible which is more universal, is to simply not be young any more. Our books, movies, tv shows, advertisements, all focus on youth. Sure you can still stand out as an older person as long as you still have a youthful body, face, and style. 

As a mom I have found surrounding myself with children is a good way to make myself invisible. Everyone’s focus is on the children, Beauty! Youth! Sweet adorableness! 

Being overweight is a journey I’m still walking out. Ageing is inevitable. Being surrounded by kids has turned out to be my calling. These are all things that just make me invisible inevitably. Not choices I have particularly made. But the choice for invisibility that I do consciously make is the choice to be silent. 

In case you all haven’t noticed, I generally have a lot to say. As a kid in school, I was always the quiet one, but if the teacher asked a question in class, I had my hand raised, ready to answer. I like discussions. I like engaging in talks about ideas. I will gladly skip small talk, but if you open up with a heavy topic, I’m all in. 

Over the past months as our lives kind of spiralled out of control for a bit there and the amount of crazy life situations I was having to deal with reached an insane level, I resorted to all the defense mechanisms that always helped me survive in the past. Defense number one: become invisible. Retreat into silence. 

Now, I feel lke I am on the other side of the storm. There are some hurts and damage and I’ve got to help my kids walk through the healing process, but it feels like we have reached calm waters again. And I feel like I’m in a different kind of dangerous place. Being silent is comfortable. It feels safe. I sit here in my house, my kids have returned to school, and I have no desire to leave my cocoon. I have no desire to interact with anyone. Even in the relative anonymity of Facebook, I find myself writing and then erasing my comments because I just don’t want to engage. I don’t want to be seen. And while I feel like being invisible was necessary for the particular circumstances we were in, it’s not a place to stay. 

I have a great imaginary life in my head. Stories I come back to over and over again. In the past year, I have started analysing these stories. Why do I like these? What draws me to this story? And I have come to realize that the attraction in these stories is that it is someone invisible who becomes seen. Recognized. And through that recognition, given worth. I have a deep longing to be seen. To experience the true intimacy of being known. I know, in my mind, that God sees me. That Jesus’ work on the cross has already given me value. But somehow it feels like my ability to fully walk in that truth is wrapped up in my ability to also walk it out with the people around me. 

And so I find myself facing this new year wondering if I have it in me to open my mouth and speak again. To engage with people again. To take the time and energy to truly see the people around me and take the risk of letting myself be seen. 

The Christmas Newsletter

Hello Everyone, I know it’s been a while since I’ve written, and while I’m not yet at a place where I’m going to be writing regularly I wanted to give you all an update on life. 

December 11th, we went to court and our foster daughter was reunited with her birth family. It’s been a three year journey and we are happy at how it has all ended, but our family is going through a transition period. 

We had a rough Fall with some tragedy in the family from which we are still picking up the pieces.

My oldest son joined the army and I’ve had to wrap my head around that reality. But, he’s home for Christmas so that is wonderful. 

Both my husband and I had relatives pass away.  

My kids have been attending a small private Christian school and it has been a wonderful experience for them. They have blossomed. It has been a joy to see them do well in their school work, make good friends, get involved in school sports and just come home happy every day. 

My older kids continue to be awesome, working hard, pursuing their goals. 

I am in the December crunch, trying to manage everyone’s schedules, all the extra events and activities. Make all the festivities happen for the family. It’s busy, but a fun kind of busy. I do feel like I’m in a race though as we approach the last week till Christmas and I still haven’t finished all my Christmas shopping. Oh well. It will happen somehow and all come together at the last minute as usual. 

All my kids will be home for Christmas and I plan on just basking in togetherness these next couple weeks. 

I’ve thought about my blog off and on but have had no words to share. The reunification process of our foster daughter was pretty intense and now I feel like I’ve been carrying around a 100 pound weight for three years and suddenly it’s gone and I’m not sure what to do with myself. When I think about writing the only word that comes to my mind is Rest. So, that is what I plan on doing for the immediate future. Just let all these things settle into place in my mind and soul. 

I just want to let you all know that God is good. He has carried me through some pretty crazy situations. He has strengthened me and enabled me to do some really hard things. His grace and peace have covered me in the lowest valleys. I am overwhelmed at his goodness to me. I am excited to see what the future holds. And right now I plan on focusing on my family, celebrating Jesus, and resting. 

I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and take some time to ponder and wonder at how loved you are by God. 

Do I Have a Servant Heart?

I read a difficult Bible passage this past week that has been stuck in my mind. 

“Suppose one of you has a servant plowing or looking after the sheep. Will he say to the servant when he comes in from the field, ‘Come along now and sit down to eat’? Won’t he rather say, ‘Prepare my supper, get yourself ready and wait on me while I eat and drink; after that you may eat and drink’? Will he thank the servant because he did what he was told to do? So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.’” Luke 17:7-10

In our culture, reading anything about slaves tends to put my hackles up. Slavery is wrong. All men are created equally. We should be kind and considerate to everyone! I find it rather offensive to think about someone owning a slave, making them work out in a field all day and then making them come inside and have no rest and continue to serve their master. Is Jesus saying I should be a slave? That I am unworthy? 

Other Bible verses come to mind.  

I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you. John 15: 15-16 

Not a servant. Friends. Chosen. 1 John 3:1 says that God loves us so much that we are called sons of God. Reading these other verses I don’t feel like my status with God is that of a lowly slave. 

As I’ve thought about the passage in Luke I’ve realized that it is a good measure of how much of a servant heart I have. How firmly embedded my pride and sense of entitlement are in my very nature. 

Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant,  and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Mark 10: 43-45

Yes, we are sons of God, Friends of Jesus. Chosen. Loved. But we are called to be like Jesus, and Jesus, despite being King of Kings, God, Creator, Ruler of all, he was a servant. And we’ve been called to be like Jesus and serve others. 

The other night I came home exhausted. Right after school I had to take two of my children to a location out West, thirty minutes away, and then after being there an hour and half, had to drive to another part of town to pick up another child from sports practice. I didn’t get home till 6:30pm and I had been driving in horrible rush hour traffic for over an hour. I had expected that my other family at home would have already eaten the supper I had left prepared for them. I anticipated just grabbing a plate of food for myself and being able to relax for a couple minutes. Instead, I walked in the door and found out that everyone else was waiting for me to get home before they ate. Nothing was set out. The table was littered with homework and toys and papers. Mess. I lost it. Had a total hissy fit. Much to the horror of my poor family who were simply anticipating a family meal together whenever I got home. Later, all I could think about was the passage in Luke and how far I was from having a true servant heart. Cause I had been working hard all day, and I wanted to come home and be served. Have some rest. Get some appreciation for how hard I had been working. And yes, there is a time and a place for rest and appreciation. But sometimes, everyone in the family has been working hard, everyone is exhausted, and what the family needs is someone to come in and patiently continue to serve. 

That is the heart I want to have. And sometimes I fail miserably. But I have to realize, having a servant heart is something I need Jesus to do inside of me. It’s not something I can get on my own. I hold to the promise that says,

being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. Philippians 1:6

I’m trusting that God will continue to soften my heart and teach me how to serve like Jesus. 

Morning Glories

My daughter wrote a story about someone who sinks into deep depression and then slowly, slowly, pulls out of it. And the story uses the Morning Glory flower as a symbol of hope. When I read the story I found myself sobbing, recognizing myself in the main character. Finally acknowledging the numbness that had taken over my life, which I had grimly tried to ignore as I pushed through each day, determined to not let my family down. And I was filled with a tiny spark of hope. Yes, you can pull yourself through. Depression does go away. Life returns. 

Since I’ve read that story I have been seeing Morning Glories everywhere. As I was driving down the road to take my kids to school, there, look, Morning Glories covering a fence. Hope. As I took a walk, there, look, Morning Glories in the neighbor’s yard. Hope. And yesterday when I found myself actually having the motivation to get out into my yard with my kids, play with them, plant some things, I found Morning Glories in the very back corner of the yard, a place I usually don’t go. And I laughed and took a picture and I knew that it was no longer a spark, but a full blown flame. Hope. 

I went on a retreat several weeks ago. During the retreat I dealt with some old wounds. Or at least, started dealing. And I found myself feeling emotions again. Sure, it was anger and pain, but I was feeling again. I read somewhere that in order to feel joy and happiness we have to allow ourselves to feel anger and pain. When we stuff the bad emotions we end up in a place where all our emotions are flat. We can’t have the good without letting ourselves feel the bad too. As I have allowed myself to process the hard emotions, I have found the lighter ones returning. 

After the retreat I felt myself going silent. I needed a break from words, from thoughts, from interacting with people. I needed to just sit and feel and mourn and heal. And that’s why there haven’t been any new blogs in a while. I didn’t let it bother me. I knew the words would come back when I was ready. And this morning I felt the familiar itch to put my thoughts down where I could see them. And it’s good to be writing again. 

We’ve had a lot going on in the family the last couple months. Made some big decisions about our kids’ schooling. My third child graduated high school. We got to have a mini family reunion as I had all my kids in one place for the graduation. And now summer is going full force as I try to keep track of everyone’s summer plans with kids going in all directions. I am living one day at a time. Welcoming joy back into my life. Keeping an eye out for Morning Glories. And, as always, resting in the fact that God is good.