Saturday, July 31, 2010
I don’t think she got the memo that mopping the floors isn’t supposed to be fun.
I guess it’s possible that she learned to be joyous when doing housework from me…..but I somehow doubt it.
Disclaimer: In no way did I make her do this. I was mopping (or Swiffer-wetting) when she decided that she would die if she did not get to help me. Seeing how dire the situation was, I agreed to let her mop for a minute. There are no violations of child labor laws to worry about.
Friday, July 30, 2010
“The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you.” (Zephaniah 3:17)
I’ve heard and read that verse many times in the course of my life. It was a favorite of our former worship leader at my church, and when she would read it, something in my heart leapt for joy and felt warm and comforted. I have to confess, though, that I don’t think I ever really understood what it meant to delight in someone. I knew it had to be a good thing, but in all seriousness, I don’t know that I had ever truly delighted in anyone…until this little girl came into our world.
And now, I delight. I delight in her when she is playing, I delight in her when she is sleeping. I delight in her joy and in her frustration. I delight in her when she is obedient and when she is testing her limits. I delight in every stage of her development, from helpless newborn to trying toddler. I delight in her just as she is, whether easy or challenging or exhausting. I delight in her because of who she is and because I love her. For those reasons and no other, I delight in her.
It’s a pretty powerful thing to realize that God delights in me that way. He loves me as I am, whether I’m clinging to Him or trying to chart my own way through life. He delights in me because of who I am and because He loves me. Period.
“The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you.” (Zephaniah 3:17)
As much as He does delight in me today, as I am right now, though, He anticipates, too. He anticipates what I might become, and what I might do. He anticipates stages in my own development that are still to come. He anticipates who I will be once His changes take effect in my character and my spirit. He anticipates a time when I will be more like Jesus than I am today.
And with Leah, I’m the same way. I love – delight in – who she is right now, but I anticipate a time when she has changed. I anticipate a time when she will be more of who she was meant to be and I can relate to her woman to woman. I anticipate those things because I know they are coming, and because there is hope and promise in them. Today is good, for sure, but I am eager for the joys of tomorrow.
I delight in her, but I anticipate. And God…..He delights in me, but He anticipates. I anticipate what He does, too. It’s one of the delicate balances of this life. Delight and anticipation. Anticipation and delight. Relishing today while recognizing the joys to come tomorrow.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
As I’ve mentioned before, Leah has developed an unlikely interest in school buses. She was afraid of them for awhile, but once she realized that they posed no threat to her, her love for them was cemented. This love has lasted much longer than I ever imagined it would. Lucky for her, we live right down the road from the utilities department for our county board of education, and that’s where they park the buses when not in use. She knows when we’re near the buses, too, or even if we’re not near at all but she wants to be. From the back of the car comes a repetitive little chant, more in the form of a question than a demand: “Bus? Bus? Bus? Bus? Bus?” And I, unable to deny her the simple pleasure of seeing the buses, veer into the parking lot for a brief visit.
She loves it. She sits in silence for much of our short visit, making me wonder if she is even paying attention. I look to the back seat, though, and I see her wide-eyed amazement at all of the buses, sitting in line, waiting for someone to love them as much as she does.
Eventually, I turn the car toward the road, and she knows the visit is over. “Bye-bye, bus. Bye-bye,” she says, waving her little hand.
We pull onto the main road, and she begins again. “Bus? Bus? Bus? Bus?” That will have to wait until tomorrow, sweet girl, or at least until we’re on our way home. The schedule-oriented adult in me cringes at the thought of the time wasted looking at parked school buses. The mama in me loves to make her little girl smile, though, and if it comes as cheaply as a few minutes creeping through a dusty parking lot, I’m willing to splurge. I’m happy to do it for her.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Sunset over Martinez, July 2010
It’s no secret that I struggle with comparing myself to other people. My hair, my clothes, my house, my car, my friendships….all are subject to scrutiny and the impossible task of measuring up. My relationship with the Lord, even, is not exempt. I see others in church on Sunday mornings and think, “She just gets it,” or, “I wish I could be like that with Jesus….” I see the way other women worship or pray or interpret Scripture and think that the way I do it is not good enough. I tell myself that God isn’t pleased with what I offer Him, and that He, too, wants me to do it differently and more like everyone else. Worse still, I start to believe it, and it colors every attempt I make at spending time with Him. I think I can’t spend any time with Him if it isn’t perfect time, and that I shouldn’t even try if I can’t do it “right.” “Just don’t bother,” I think, “because you don’t get it like they do.”
It’s terrible and sad and a lie.
This morning, as I sat waiting for my food order to be ready at my usual working spot, I sat and read some Psalms to get my head in a better place. (Somehow, rushing around to get everything lined up so that I can work is not usually very inspiring for writing.) I flipped my Bible open and, in the tradition of those who believe that God will show them the right word for the right moment, read whatever my eyes fell on.
“I will sing a new song to you, O God.” (Psalm 144:9)
That got my attention. At first, my thoughts rested on the idea that I could offer something to God that has never been offered before. A song, perhaps, or something I’ve written - an offering of praise and adoration that comes from my heart and my heart alone. That offering is new – from me and no one else – and should never be compared to the offering given by anyone else. I can give something to God that no one else can. That realization alone was staggering.
As I sat, though, journaling and thinking over what I’d read, my heart went deeper. My praise and my adoration and my love for Him are what characterize my relationship with Him. Those things are unique to our relationship, just as certain ways of relating and talking and communicating are unique to the relationships I have with other people. In human relationships we have inside jokes, for example, and experiences that have colored the fabric of our relationship with one another. Those are things that no one else can understand, because they weren’t there when it happened and have different histories. With God, too, I have things that no one else has. I have the way that He speaks to me and teaches me in the mundane things of life, and I have the way He romances me in nature. I have the way we dance together as I write. I have the intimate moments soundtracked by worship music. I have moments in my car when it is as though no one else exists anywhere but He and I. I have those moments and experiences that are too personal and too special to even recount here. Those are the things that make up our relationship. That is our love story, and it’s uniquely us. I celebrate those things, and He does, too.
Friday, July 23, 2010
It’s been an interesting week, and while writing here has not been high on my list of priorities, I assure you we’ve been busy. I had strep throat for almost a week, which had me down for the count. My throat feels 100% better now (thank the good Lord above), but I think I’m still getting over it all because my energy level has been nil. I have lots and lots of things to update on, and lots and lots of ideas to write about. For tonight, though, I’ll just tell you about (and, of course, show you) Leah’s first experience with play dough.
A few months ago, I got the book Wonder Play from a friend. It’s a terrific book – highly recommend it – and it has the instructions for making homemade play dough. Super easy and super fun!
The “recipe” calls for 2 cups of flour, 1 cup of salt, and 1 cup of water. You can add food coloring, but I didn’t because I didn’t have any…and because my targeted audience was an 18 month-old, I thought 1)food coloring might not be a good idea, and 2)she wouldn’t miss it. I was right.
First, a few shots of the “cooking” of the dough:
And now, the fun part:
She had a really good time, despite the fact that she was fighting a teething fever. I liked it, too, because since I made it, I knew everything that was in it and didn’t have to worry at all if she ate any. Which she did.
It was fun, and we’ll be doing it again soon. We have to. I promised her we would.
Friday, July 16, 2010
I was really excited when my sister, as a follow-up to the maternity portraits I did for her, asked me to do some newborn portraits of Cadence Rose. Cadence was only 9 days old when I invaded her house with props and persistently posed and positioned her, but she was such a trooper. She was awake far more than I ever expected her to be, so I got lots of pictures of her gorgeous dark eyes. It was so much fun capturing her tiny newness, and I hope these are pictures for her parents to treasure forever. This newborn phase won’t last long!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
I have never done this before. I love to read, and usually think of every book as a masterpiece in its own way. I usually think that every author should have a chance to share his story in its entirety, be it fiction or non, and I force myself to read even the least enjoyable books through to the end.
This time, though, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
Have you ever been to a movie that was so bad – so gory, perhaps, or so badly cast and performed – that you cannot bear to sit through the whole thing? Have you ever walked out on a movie like that in the theater?
No? Me, either. I have been to movie that made me want to walk out, but I didn’t because, frankly, I had paid for it and couldn’t justify basically flushing that money down the toilet. I toughed it out and (barely) survived. Had I run across the same movie on TV at home, I never would have made it to the end. The channel would have been changed before the next commercial break.
That actually has a lot to do with this book review.
I got this book from the library, and I’m so thankful that I didn’t buy it. I had really looked forward to reading it, and nearly bought it a couple of times. Because I got it from the library, though, I felt free to stop reading…so I did. I’m so thankful for
For awhile now, I’ve felt convicted about the “meat” industry – the process of raising and slaughtering and packing meat for human consumption. I’ve heard different things and seen different things that struck a chord in my heart and really brought me to a place of having to make a choice for my life; I have been borderline vegetarian for awhile now. I felt that I needed more information about all of it, though, and because of that, I checked out Eating Animals, by Jonathan Safran Foer. There has been a lot of hype about this particular book, which chronicles the author’s journey as he researched the industry. I’m sure that what he experienced and writes about is real, and I do intend to do some more research on this subject. His account, though, was not helpful to me. I needed something objective to help me make my decision, and that is not what I found in this book. I was prepared for gory details and vivid descriptions; what I didn’t bargain on, though, was a heaping dose of cynicism. His writing style was, to me, hard to follow, and I felt like I was being berated for not having made up my mind totally in favor of vegetarianism. To me, it’s people like the author of this book that give vegetarians a bad name.
In a nutshell, I was looking for something particular in this book, and I didn’t find it. So yes, I’m disappointed, and yes, I’m returning it to the library without having finished it…but no, I make no apologies for that.
Monday, July 12, 2010
This weekend, our little family of three had a great time together. We have made a point of making Saturdays our “family days,” so that no other things (e.g. yard work, errands, home repairs, yada yada) encroach on our intentional time spent together. Saturday, we went and paid a visit to my in-laws’ pool, despite the possibility of scattered showers that afternoon. Wouldn’t you know it? We hadn’t been in the pool more than 10 minutes when we heard (yes, heard) the rain approaching. We tried to stick it out (since we were in the pool, after all), but Leah wasn’t a fan of the big, cold drops pelting her in the head. She and I sought refuge under the patio umbrella while Daddy seized the opportunity and got a picture.
The rain passed nearly as quickly as it had come, and we were able to resume our swimming and playing. It was a good afternoon, and for whatever reason, I keep thinking about the whole “caught in the rain” incident. It’s a good memory, and I’m thankful that I have a picture of it.
Watch for more memories in the making at Krystyn’s blog today.
Friday, July 09, 2010
I have given up. This is not something I do often (even when, perhaps, I should), or something that I am necessarily proud of.
Well…maybe I am a little proud of myself for giving up on this. It was causing me more strife than joy, and the feelings I was experiencing were far from loving. It needed to be given up.
Let me back up. A few years ago, I got the urge to learn to sew. I knew some very talented sewing-type people, and I loved the work they did. I was inspired by the fun costumes and darling girls’ clothes they made, and I thought, “I would love, love, love to be able to do that for my daughter.” I drooled over the sewing machines and sewing equipment and fabrics at craft stores, and bought little embellishments for projects I was sure I would learn to do one day. I had high aspirations, and I knew that one day – yes, one day – I, too, would be handcrafting special things for the people I love. My sweet husband heard my cries and, for my 27th birthday, he surprised me with this:
Beautiful, isn’t it? I loved it. I was over-the-moon excited, and jumped right in on learning to make curtains for my daughter’s room. Valances, I thought, would be a good place to start, so start I did. I threaded and measured and cut and pinned and sewed, toiling and sweating over my brand new toy. And then, at long last, I finished the curtains. And I saw that they were good.
They were very good indeed.
However, that was just about the last successful project I completed. After that, I attempted other things – little tote bags, a quilt for Leah, wall hangings for different places in the house – but all resulted in frustration, anger, and a trunk full of scrap fabric. I did manage to complete a blanket for my niece, but it nearly killed me.
To give you an idea of how it has been since I successfully completed a sewing project, here are some pictures from around that time.
Me, 20 weeks pregnant with Leah
(L) Pregnant Ashley and pregnant me at her baby shower, and (R)Leah’s 20 week sonogram picture.
Yeah. It’s been awhile. That would be okay, except for all of the failed attempts in between…and the subsequent feelings of inadequacy and failure. Every time I walked into our spare room, the sewing machine stared at me. I was almost convinced that it was screaming at me, telling me that I’m a disappointment and that I’m not measuring up to all I wanted to be. I felt like it was trying to make me someone I’m not.
I just can’t accept that kind of back talk from a machine. Unacceptable.
Recently, I attempted yet another project, which resulted in yet another toss of randomly cut-up pieces of fabric into my sewing trunk. With that, I gave up. At about the time I realized that I wasn’t good at this sewing business, I realized that really and truly, I didn’t even like sewing. All of the pinning and measuring and seam ripping….oh, the seam ripping…. It just wasn’t fun for me, so I quit.
With that failed project, I realized some very important things.
My projects failed, but I did not.
I am not a bad person for not enjoying a hobby that I wanted to learn.
I should not feel bad for not being good at something, nor should I beat myself up for not continuing to try.
I am good at other things, and those things are enough. I don’t have to do everything, and I don’t have to be good at everything.
I can admire people who things without having to do them myself.
And when I realized those things, I was set free. I was free to give up. I was free to admit that I tried and did not succeed, but that I am still an okay person. I was free to give up on a love that I was certain would develop…and was free to allow someone else to pursue their interest.
What did I do? I gave the machine away, and I have no regrets. I am who I am, I do what I do, and I admire what I admire. There is no reason to get any of those things tangled up in the others, or to feel bad about any of them. So yes…I gave up. But I’m proud of myself for doing what needed to be done to set myself free. Now I’m free to be me, without any back-talking craft supplies telling me otherwise.
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Dear Leah,
Sweet girl, you are 18 months old today! Eighteen! When you were born, I remember seeing clothes for 18 month olds; I thought they were so big and grown-up looking, and couldn’t even imagine you being that size. And now…..here we are! You’re wearing 18-month clothes…and lots of 24-month and 2T! It’s always so strange for me to realize how big you’ve gotten…and that in a few months, the size you are now will seem so small!
This has been an interesting month for us. You’ve definitely been testing your limits as you’ve been trying to figure out the world around you. It’s a constant battle to keep you off the fireplace and the coffee table. There are some days when I feel like the only things I say to you are, “Get down,” and “Sit.” You just love to climb and play on the furniture, but I can’t let you keep doing it! One day you’ll understand, but for now, I’ll have to keep sounding like a broken record. That’s okay.
You are also in a biting stage, which has been hard for all of us. I know you’re just trying to express your anger and frustration in the only way you know how, but w0w – your little teeth hurt! It’s interesting, too, because you bite other things, too, besides just us – the couch, coffee table, doorframes, and rugs have all been your victims. It’s hard for me to see you so upset and so frustrated. I want to fix it for you, or help you understand what’s going on, but there’s only so much I can do. It’s a learning process for all of us.
You are starting to say “no” more, and seem to have strong opinions about things happening around you. I’m starting to think you have my temper – you’re zero to sixty in three seconds flat! It doesn’t seem to take much to get you upset, which I think is normal for your age, and I have to confess that sometimes when you get really angry about something that seems really small, I have a hard time not laughing. It’s so cute, somehow, that you’re so passionate about things.
I don’t mean to emphasize all of those negatives, though. You’re still such a joy, sweetheart. You make me smile and laugh so many times every day. There are just things you do and even say – yes, you’re talking a lot now! – that make my heart smile. You’re impersonating lots of animals, and are starting to learn your colors. The sounds you make for different animals – especially your “meow” – are so, so cute! You are learning everyone’s names and now – finally! – will say “mama” when you want me. I can’t tell you how much I love that. You love your books, and get very excited whenever we head outside to play. You are such a flirt, too, with people in the store and at church, and everyone seems to see what a sweetheart you really are.
I just love you so much, honey. I can’t believe you’re halfway to your second birthday! Time is going so fast, and I am doing all I can to soak up this time with you. There are lots of challenging days, but even on the worst days, I wouldn’t trade my life for anything. I love being your mama, and I love watching you learn and grow. It’s amazing to me, and such a privilege to watch. Your daddy and I love you, Punen. You’re our joy!
Love,
Mama
