Tag: writing

“Almost Not Afraid at All”

I’ve been reading the “Tuyo” book series by Rachel Neumeier. It’s a fantasy series that takes place in a world where each region is separated dramatically from the next, with each region having its own extremely different weather, sky, peoples, customs, etc. I probably enjoy these books so much because they are very cross-cultural, as the people in these regions rarely interact, but the main characters are forced to leave their home regions and live among and befriend people who are completely different from them. 

One of my favorite characters is Tano who is rescued from a very abusive family/tribe situation. He is brought into a new tribe where he is treated well for the first time in his life and he slowly learns the things he needs to know to be a part of this new people. He struggles with a lot of fear and lack of trust, but he’s determined to overcome in these areas so he keeps pushing himself to do things that he logically knows are good for him, even though, physically and emotionally it terrifies him to try it. As he grows in these areas, and his fear lessons, he uses a line quite a lot, “I was almost not afraid at all.” 

I like that. I think that sums up how I live a lot of my life. Growing up cross-culturaly, I always struggled with not fitting in and the fear that evoked. I never quite knew all the customs and ways of doing things. I mostly got it, but there was always something that would make me take a misstep, draw attention to my ignorance, which generally drew mockery. I learned to get really good at observing people carefully and taking my cues from them. Every new situation felt fraught with danger. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I remember in 8th grade we had been living in Haiti and due to the major upheaval and violence happening in the country, we had to leave and come back to the States. I came into middle school four months into the school year. At lunch everyone got in line to get their food. My mom offered to give me lunch money, but the idea of having to figure out where to line up, how to pay for my food, how to figure out the whole system, was too overwhelming for me, too many opportunities to mess up and draw negative attention. I just skipped lunch the rest of the school year and then ate a big snack when I got home from school every day. 

As I got older I was able to recognize that a lot of these fears were unreasonable. So, I would make myself do things that felt scary, but logically I knew I should/could do them. Fake it till you make it. I got good at walking into situations and being upfront about my ignorance. Hey, I’ve never done this before, could you show me how this works? I have also learned how to over-prepare in order to cancel out some of the fear. I’ll look at maps ahead of time so I know exactly where I will park, and exactly how long it will take me. Maybe I’ll write down notes on questions I need to ask, information I need to remember to get. Possibly I’ll talk through the whole scenario ahead of time with my husband, ok, so I’m going to do this first, and then this, and then this…does that sound right? I’ve learned to just do the things that make me afraid because the fear is unreasonable and things need to get done. 

This week I had a job interview. I can’t remember the last time that happened. All the things I’ve done on the side to make some money over the years have been initiated informally, by someone I know or a friend of a friend. So, extremely new experience. It was at a location I’d never been to with people I’d never met. (It’s a part time position, teaching a one-hour children’s music class once a week.) 

Ahead of time, I was expecting that I was going to be nervous. I was anticipating being nervous. I was ready to be nervous. But, a couple hours beforehand, I thought about it and realized that I was actually excited. Not nervous. I was curious and actually looking forward to meeting these new people and discussing the class. Yes, my heart was pounding a bit, and I took a couple deep breaths before I got out of my car, but practically nothing! 

The interview went fine. I’ll find out next week whether they want me or not. But, getting the position almost feels irrelevant. I feel like it was a big win to do something new where I wasn’t scared and actually enjoyed myself. I did something new, and “I was almost not afraid at all!”

1 John 4:18 says, “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.”

My journey to overcoming fear is directly linked to my understanding of how much I am loved by God. The better my understanding, the less fear I have. I look forward to a day when I will not be afraid at all. Until then, I’m pretty excited about “Almost not afraid at all.”

Free House: Moving Upstairs

It’s been a while since I’ve been on here. We had one of the busiest holiday seasons I’ve ever had. It was a lot of fun, lots of good memories, great time with my kids, and we ended with the wedding of my oldest son! Then all the kids that came home for Christmas left, school started back up, and this weekend is the first time that I’m feeling like I can catch my breath a bit. It’s been a great day, I got my grocery shopping done first thing this morning, assigned my kids some chores, and then Andy and I went next door to tackle the next project. We worked three hours, came home, showered, and now I’m looking at the rest of the afternoon and evening with nothing on the schedule. Woohoo!

Today’s clean out was a lot more physically intense than normal. We have finally moved upstairs.

Which means everything has to come down those stairs, then you have to climb back up those stairs again to get back to work. We tossed lighter things down the stairs, but we escorted the big giant trash bags. At the top of the stairs is a rather large landing that had been turned into a bedroom.

We filled our trailer.

And then still had lots of stuff to fill another trailer load.

So, this is how far we got today, both of us working. I feel a little bit like an archeologist as I try to figure out the time line for the house. I found mail on the floor upstairs from 1999, which seems to be a significant year as I really haven’t found much mail or newspapers from before then. The upstairs ceiling is lath and plaster, and that started to fall apart at some point in time, so they put a cheap drop ceiling over the lath and plaster. Then I think enough of the original ceiling collapsed that it weighed down the drop ceiling and made that fall as well. So, we were cleaning up a lot of house debris today. As usual, I am always amazed at how much stuff can be crammed into one small space.

In other news, one of my older daughters went through some of the clothes that have been hanging in closets and tried washing them to see if they’d come clean, and they did! She is an eclectic dresser, so she had fun finding some things. This silk suit didn’t fit. Not sure what I’m going to do with it. But it’s clean!

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. 

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? 

Happy at Home

Today is a beautiful day in East Tennessee. The sun is shining brightly, there is a nice breeze, the temps are cool, but not too cold to sit outside. All the trees have grown their new leaves for the year and everything feels bright and fresh. 

I’ve been thinking about my future goals for the next several months. What I want to work towards, things I want to see happen, things I want to see my kids accomplish. 

Things like, start exercising regularly again, keep practicing piano, keep teaching. Help my husband with his business. Have people over to my house often. Keep being a mom and wife. Keep writing. Nothing big and mind blowing. Just a collection of little things that make up my life.

What is making me happy right now is the fact that I can live this simple life and it’s enough.

Romans 12:4-8 says, 

For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith;  if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach;  if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.

I love that when you ask Jesus to forgive your sins and make a choice to follow him, you become part of a family. I love being in church and looking around at everyone and knowing that these are my brothers and sisters and together we are the body of Christ. What I also love is that we all have different roles to play. I love that I can be a stay-at-home mom and know that I am doing my part in the kingdom of God. 

Sometimes I look at my lfe and it feels like I must not be doing enough. Surely I should be striving towards more lofty goals. The world tells me that if I don’t have titles after my name, if I am not out in the thick of things, making money or saving the planet, I’m really not doing anything. I need to get myself out there and start making a difference! 

But the truth of the matter is, by having my life centered in my home, I am serving God. When I spend my day cooking and cleaning, I am serving the body of Christ. When I arrange my schedule so that I have time and energy to have people in my home, I am sharing the love of Christ.  When I putter around and think about things and then take time to write down what I’m thinking about and share it with others, I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing and fulfilling God’s purpose for me. 

I love that being part of the body does not mean I have to strive to become someone that the world would say is noteworthy. But instead I can just be myself, using the gifts and talents that God has given me in the circle of influence that he has placed me in. And it’s enough. 

Not everyone is called to be a stay at home mom, obviously. And we all play different roles in the family of God. I feel very strongly about social justice issues and sometimes wish that I could be out on the frontlines meeting the physical needs of the low and downtrodden.  And the Bible says that taking care of the widows and orphans is what true religion is about. But, I’ve learned over the years that I can help people from the position that I’ve been placed in, in my home. I can take in homeless people, foster kids, teenagers who need a couch to sleep on. I can feed the hungry who knock on my door. I can provide the safe place for latchkey kids to come and play. And I don’t even have to leave my neighborhood. I just have to get up every morning with my hands open, in a posture of willingness. And as my day meanders along, I know that God will use me however he sees fit for that day. 

As I have come to know myself better over the years and understand my passions and longings better, I have realized more and more that God put me in the exact perfect place where I could be myself and use my talents and gifts most fully. As a teenager I never even thought about being a stay-at-home mom. But my Creator who made me knew better and today I feel joyful and peaceful as I serve Him and the Body of Christ from the wonderful place of my home. 

Forgiven

I’ve had a bit of a rough week. Finding myself frozen in place where I can’t seem to do anything. This happens to me occasionally, and the hardest part is trying to figure out why am I acting like this? It feels like character failure. I’m being lazy. And then I get worried, am I slipping into a depression without even realizing it? I mentally explore all the sensitive areas in my brain, no everything feels pretty normal. Why can’t I get moving? 

And then I slowly start putting the pieces together. I realize that the old nighttime terror has returned, where I walk into my dark bedroom and I feel fear to the point of being nauseated. And I’im so used to dealing with this feeling that I just keep moving, get back into bed or turn on a light which then makes it go away. Then I find myself flooded with old memories that my brain keeps trying to process. Maybe if we just remember this one more time, it will make sense and it will go away. So I pull out my computer and write the memories down in an attempt to remove them from my head and place them into the safety of a computer program. 

And once I finally realize what is going on, I feel better. Ok. This is just that old thing that I have to go through occasionally. It will pass. 

This morning I sat eating my breakfast, thinking about all of this, and thinking about sin. Someone’s sin against me and then my reaction that led me to my own spiral of sins. And I just felt a rush of relief. Thank you God for Easter. Tomorrow we remember Jesus’ death on the cross. We mourn over the pain he had to suffer and we feel the deepest gratitude that he was willing to do this for us. It was the only action that could fix our sin problem. And then Sunday we will rejoice as we celebrate that Jesus came back to life and that death has been conquered and that we can look forward to an eternity with Him. 

What Jesus did was the only thing that can fix me. The only thing that was able to take me off a path of self-destruction and put me on a path of life. His forgiveness of my sins was the only thing that made it possible for me to forgive others when they sinned against me. And broke off the chains of bitterness. The Holy Spirit entering my life is the only thing that renews me, helps me to heal and grow and continues to show me the way of life. 

And I find myself singing, “Worthy is the lamb, Jesus son of God…” 

Luke 7: 36-50 tells a story about a woman who comes and washes Jesus’ feet with her tears and her hair and anoints his feet with perfume. The pharisee whose house they are in, thinks to himself, if Jesus was a prophet, he’d know this woman was a sinner. Then Jesus tells him a story about a banker with two men who owe him money, one a lot, the other not as much. The banker forgives both debts. Jesus then asks, which man is going to love the banker more? And the pharisee answers, the one who owed him more. Then Jesus says in verse 47 “I tell you that her many sins are forgiven, so she showed great love. But the person who is forgiven only a little will love only a little.”

I am the woman. Life is dark. We are sinned against from a young age and we sin against others from a young age. But Jesus came. He made a way so that we can be forgiven and healed. My many sins have been forgiven. And I pray that I may be like that woman, that I would respond with great love to Jesus. May my praise be an extravagant show of gratitude. May my actions be an anointing perfume that brings pleasure to my Lord. 

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. 

WARNING

I have been feeling nervous lately about having a blog. People are actually reading it. That makes me nervous. I know myself too well. I am so human. I do not have my life together. I am inconsistent. I lose my temper. I’m irritable. I have big bouts of laziness. I blow it with my kids every day. Our family lives at full throttle, very small margins. Lots of risks. Not much of a safety net. In short, there isn’t much that I would say, here you should copy me. I hope very much that my kids don’t repeat all the mistakes I made and that they map out very different lives from me. 

I think what keeps bringing me back to the keyboard is the desire to say, hey, we are all messed up. No one is perfect. But look what Jesus is doing with my mess. Look, this is what sanctification looks like. The daily process of being changed by God’s work in my life. And even this, the sanctification process, I want to show it from a real perspective. No. I don’t become a Christian and then suddenly become this perfect, holy person. In fact, the more I walk with Jesus, the more perfection feels farther and farther away. In truth, every day I get a bigger and bigger understanding of how Unholy I am. And how desperately I need Jesus to cover all my junk with his own holiness. 

Case in point. This past week has been horrible. I have been depressed. My depression has made me revert to bad eating habits which have then made me feel sick. Every morning I got up, got my kids off to school, ran the basic errands, and then crashed in bed until I needed to pick up my kids from school again. I have been walking through a fog and I feel like a failure. How many times have I written about this? You would think, by now, I would be over this and moving on in victory. Healed. Redeemed. Triumphant. 

Apparently not. 

At the same time, a dear friend shared an article about how we keep saying we want God to “Use us”, kind of like employees, but God wants our focus to be on KNOWING him. And it’s out of that knowing that we end up offering service to God, not out of a sense of obligation. And this week, even as I have been dragging low to the ground, I have found myself thinking about who Jesus is, talking to him, feeling his presence with me, and bewildering as it is, not feeling his disapproval of me. Even though I have definitely not been performing or offering any kind of service this week. 

I guess I want to say that I am the poster child of a Messed Up Person Who Is Still Loved By God. Or, this is what God’s Grace looks like in a regular person. And I’m sorry, but it’s not neat and pretty and perfect. It’s sloppy and messy and kind of ugly sometimes. But all that imperfection also serves as a constant reminder that I am saved by Grace, not because I’m this hard working amazing person who follows all the rules, keeps all the laws. No. I’m saved because Jesus decided to save me. And because HE is good and holy and amazing and perfect. 

As I write this blog, I’m sharing myself with you. And that’s kind of scary. Very often I hit the publish button and then instantly have a panic attack. Why did I write that? I shouldn’t have posted that. I need to erase that. Right now. And somehow I fight through the panic, and God gives me peace. It helps to get feedback from you all, and find out that you think the same, have been dealing with the same issues, you know where I’m coming from, etc. I appreciate all of you. I’m thankful for this mutually affirming community we have formed. 

I guess I just want to put out a WARNING label on my blog. 

WARNING: the following material is written by a really imperfect person who is stumbling along through life and trying to figure things out as she goes. Please take everything with a grain of salt. And lots of grace. 

Thanks. 

A Little Perspective

Right now, as I sit in my room, on our first day of Fall Break I can hear my fifteen year old, four, and seven year old discussing rivers and lakes in the kitchen. The fifteen year old made them all some hot cocoa and they are all sitting together happily chatting about the world they live in. My other seven year old is playing outside on the rope swing with two other neighborhood girls. My middleschool boys wanted to play minecraft so, to earn their time, they cleaned the entire downstairs and washed the dishes. My seventeen year old has been researching job options. I sat in my chair and read Dr. Seuss to the three youngest, all of them squeezing onto my lap. We had an intense discussion later, trying to decide what kind of accent our dog would have if he could talk. Since he’s half Irish Setter, my vote is Irish. Other activities that have happened today are lego building, a playdough session, fortress building with blocks, and a lot of lolling around together being lazy. 

Last night I was sitting in my chair, feeling a bit depressed. My husband asked what I was doing and I said I was contemplating my life. Oh, don’t do that, he said. Why don’t you look at pictures on your phone instead, that always helps. And this morning, while I was waiting for my son while he got his vision check up, I started scrolling through pictures from this past year. All pictures of my kids. A handful of pictures of my husband. Hardly any of me. (I need to do something about that.) But, kids are so much more fun to take pictures of. They are so beautiful, cute and sweet. And wow, we have some really good memories from this year. 

And today, as I’ve taken a step back and just watched my kids, I wonder what had me so depressed last night. I can’t even remember. Probably thinking about all the repair work we need to do on our house, or projects that need to get done. Things that really aren’t that important. The important things, namely my family, they are all doing pretty good. 

Sometimes I kind of lose sight of what I am doing. I get caught up in future dreams and goals. My own personal goals. The craziness of the world we are living in. And I forget that right now, my primary job is MOM. And it’s a worthy job. I’m not doing it perfectly, but I’m giving it my best effort. 

A couple weeks ago, a cousin of mine posted a very old picture of my great grandmother. It was a striking picture. She died in 1953 and while I had heard references to her a couple times, I knew nothing about her. I asked my cousin if she had any information and she sent me my great-grandmother’s Eulogy that my great grandfather had written. He talked about what a great wife, mother, friend, and Christian woman that she was. I was a little disappointed because I was hoping to learn more about her interests and personality, family history etc. But, as I think about it more, the Eulogy covered the most important facts. It covered the legacy part of who she was, the things that were passed forward to the next generations. She raised healthy, well rounded children. Taught them to love the Lord, modeled Christian living and service. One of her sons became a missionary, two others became pastors, her daughter was a well-loved teacher. And those children passed the same values down to the next generation, and then it got passed down to me. And now, here I am, trying to pass the same thing down to my children. 

I wrote recently about struggling with being the parent of grown up children, the lack of guarantees.  I have no idea what each of my children will do with their lives in the future, that is up to them, but I still have to do my part well. What I’m doing right now is important. I remember when I got pregnant with my first child and my husband said, this is the most important thing we will ever do. And I agree. My eulogy will not have anything in it about how well fixed up my house was. It probably won’t mention the vacations I’ve gone on or fun adventures I’ve had. It might not even mention things I enjoy doing like playing piano or writing. But, it will talk about what kind of wife and mother I was. What kind of friend I was. What kind of Christian I was. And that means that today, hanging out with my kids, taking them to doctor appointments, fixing them a hot supper, reading books, having devotions together…these are the most important things I will ever do. 

Disappearance

Hey everyone. My husband has covid, we’re going on day seven today. I tested negative yesterday and my kids have no symptoms, so that is a huge blessing. Please pray for my husband for complete, quick recovery. I don’t have it in me to write at the moment. Just letting you know why I’ve disappeared. Hopefully be back soon.