Tag: life

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. 

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. 

Inevitable Grief

The last time I wrote I had a euphoric Monday and I felt joy bubbling through me and I wanted to share that in my post. But as I went to post my blog, I had a superstition-driven thought that if I post about how happy I am, then bad things are going to happen to make me not happy. And while I don’t believe in superstition, I also know that life is hard, things happen. So I wasn’t overly surprised when the very next day I took my elderly dog to the vet and found out that he has advanced stages of cancer. 

And then, when I said goodbye to my two daughters who moved out of state these past two weeks, I discovered that while I am happy for them, excited about their futures, when I hugged them goodbye and watched them walk out the door, my heart did take a blow. 

I look around me, the world is still a beautiful place. Even as I write at this moment I can see the setting sun lighting up the trees, making them glow, showing off all their oranges and reds and leftover tinges of green. And I know that Jesus and his creation is beautiful. I can hear my two little boys playing a game with their twenty-two year old brother, and I am thankful for my older children and their patience and love and care for their younger siblings. I am aware of how over-abundantly I am cared for. A warm, cozy home. A husband who loves me and takes care of his family. A church where I can experience God’s presence and hear his word taught. 

Joy is still present, hovering on the edges of my life, waiting to be noticed. But I realized today that I am holding a lot of tension in my body. 

When I found out about my dog, the vet said we have a maximum of six months left, but could be a lot less. She gave me some pain medicine to give him (which has really helped) and told me what to look for to know if he’s in pain. We don’t want him to suffer and plan to take him back to the vet before he reaches that point. But how do I know when it’s the right time? Right now, he’s happy to see the kids and sleeps most of the day, but he’s a really low-maintenance dog and doesn’t complain so I’m worried that I will miss out on some clue and might inadvertently let him suffer when he doesn’t need to. And I find myself tensing up. Stiffen that backbone. Don’t relax. Be on alert. Must keep the dog from suffering. Must prepare for the grief of the kids who have grown up with this dog and love him dearly. Brace myself. 

My daughters officially packed up and left. I stiffened my backbone. This is a normal part of parenthood, letting go. Must be there for them as they make this transition. Must help the kids deal with their grief as their sisters are no longer easily accessible. Must keep a positive face on it, the girls don’t need to feel any guilt about leaving, I must not show sadness or it might make them feel sad. Brace myself. 

We have an election this week. I stiffen my backbone. Don’t watch the news. Scroll past all the political posts on social media. Don’t engage. Try not to think about the months to come as the potential for drama is high as one side has to concede to the other. Brace myself. 

And I think all this tension has to do with my poor handling of emotions. I have a history of not doing hard emotions. I ignore them. Suppress them. Distract myself from them. Rush over them. And I am at a place in life where I now realize that repressing the hard emotions means also repressing the good emotions. And these hard emotions don’t go away, they just hide and wait, disguising themselves as anger and depression. So, I know that my method of dealing with hard emotions is not right, not healthy. But it’s a really hard habit to break. 

Frankly, I think what I need is a good cry. Release. Take a pause for sadness. When I think of grief I think of the biggest losses I can think of: death of a child, a parent, a spouse. Pain that is so deep we don’t even want to imagine it. But grief is also for the inevitable losses. The ones we know have to happen, there is no surprise or shock, but they are still heavy.  Saying goodbye to your children’s dog who has loved your family faithfully for twelve years. Saying goodbye to your beautiful wonderful daughters who have grown into amazing young women, ready to take on the world. Recognizing how unhealthy our political environment is in our country and just acknowledging how sad that is. 

“Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.” Matthew 5:4

So, I go into this next week with an odd prayer. Lord, let me be sad, let me feel. Let me un-stiffen my back bone and instead embrace the pain, trusting that it’s ok to feel these emotions, that truly, this is the only way forward. Knowing that joy still hovers on the edges, waiting for it’s time. 

Feeling the Absence

Lately, I’ve been feeling the absence of something in my life. It has felt like a huge gaping hole in my personality and has actually made me pause and wonder a lot as I’ve tried to analzye what this hole was. And I think I’ve finally figured out what is missing. It’s fear. Anxiety. Stress. I am not feeling it. And it is strange and wonderful. LIke a part of me finally stopped pacing up and down and just sat down and rested. 

This absence feels so weird that it’s made me feel like I need to do an assessment of my life, inner and outer workings, make sure I’m not missing something. Surely there is something I should be stressed about? Surely I’ve messed up somewhere. Why am I feeling so relaxed and not guilty? 

I made a survey of how things are going with kids home for summer break. And I realized this is the first summer that I haven’t hyper-planned every moment of the day. And everyone is doing fine. Kids are playing well. Using their time well. 

I made a survey of our family as a whole. Have we lost our vision? Do we have goals we are actively accomplishing? And I came to the conclusion that we are on track. Over the years our goals have simplified down to wanting our kids to love Jesus and learn how to serve the people around them. And I feel like all our planned summer activities lend to promoting those things. 

I made a survey of myself. Am I being all that I can be? Probably not, but I’m pretty happy with what I’ve accomplished as a wife and a mother of ten so far. And I do have other interests I’m pursuing as well, like music and writing which makes me feel like my life is pretty balanced at the moment. 

It’s not like life has suddenly become perfect and amazing. I could easily summon up a long list of things that are not ideal, need changing, Prayer requests which I’m still waiting on answers. But that feeling of anxiousness seems to be gone. Like I can look at a problem, and say, yes, this is definitely a problem, and then I can pray about it and move on with my day. 

It’s kind of like getting an aching tooth pulled. You’re so glad the tooth is gone and is no longer hurting you, but your tongue keeps exploring this empty hole in your mouth because it’s weird and different. 

Anxiety has been a constant companion for all of my life. I can’t remember a time without it. I don’t know why God has chosen this time in my life to set me free from this. I can’t think of any momentous thing I’ve done to warrant it happening at this moment. But I am thankful. And feeling hopeful for the future. And trying not to feel too weird about this unexpected gaping hole. I wonder what positive thing I could replace it with? 

Shadow

My son Joshua got a kitten last year. We decided to not get her fixed right away. Let her have one litter of kittens so our kids could experience the miracle of life. I conveniently forgot that hand in hand with the miracle of life comes the tragedy of death. 

 

My foster son has been asking me for a kitten for five months. Five very long months. Practically every day we would have a conversation about kittens. Finally, our cat became pregnant and we promised him that he could choose one of the kittens. He chose a very sweet little black kitten with white markings, named him Shadow. 

 

This morning we discovered that in the night Mama Cat had decided to move her kittens. She had put them in a dangerous place and the little black kitten had gotten squished somehow and had died. 

 

They brought him to me in their hands, crying, hoping that I could fix it. I frantically looked for any signs of life, ready to rush to the vet immediately, but the kitten was dead. And I sat there crying, because it was a sweet innocent little thing. And it was my foster son’s. And he doesn’t deserve this kind of tragedy in his life. 

 

One of my daughters brought me a cloth that we could wrap him up in. My husband dug a hole in the back of the yard. We had a funeral. We buried him and then shared our memories. I told the kids that it’s customary to put flowers on a grave and they ran and found flowers. We fashioned a tombstone and my foster son wrote his memorial on it. 

 

And right now life just feels sucky. 

 

Rest in Peace little Shadow.

20200613_102117