The Pedestal

Once in a while, I find myself basking in the glow of a compliment, often related to being "super-woman" or something ridiculous like that.  Like any attention-obsessive woman, the words will roll back and forth though my head for the next few hours or days until they are blotted out by some self-incriminating judgement which I pronounce upon myself.

So is it wrong to aspire to perfection - or, near-perfection?  Because I know I'll never look perfect with my stretchmarks and newly found grey-silvery hairs, but at least I can work on my behavior and try to become as "perfect" as I can...  Is there a problem with trying to be the "best" mom and wife that I can be?

I try to be all that I can to my children.  I give them the opportunities I never had, and I try to make sure they are well-dressed (while maintaining budget-friendly standards) and I spend time with them, doing all sorts of fun, family-friendly activities.  I try to be a kind and patient mom, and even though I get angry far too often, I think I usually am doing a decent job as I attempt to connect to my kids and remain attentive to their sensitive, impressionable hearts.

I do my best to be a great wife which involves not talking about diapers and baby-barf all the time, and occasionally dressing up.  Which leads me to the fact that I try to be an interesting wife... so I do my best to keep up to speed with my husband's voracious appetite for knowledge of current events, finances and the latest theological debate.  I know he doesn't want a wife who will just smile brightly with a vacant stare in her eyes and say: "That's nice, dear!" (having no understanding of what was just said!).

Then there are the "spiritual" hoops which I attempt to jump though, often guiltily, being dictated by what I feel I "should" be doing, not necessary out of love and relationship to my God.  But I work at it, and I struggle - trying to read my Bible and journal and pray... and it keeps me going, and I have another check-mark on my list of requirements to be a good person - a good wife, mother and leader.

Is this what I am, though?  All this stuff I do is easily shattered by a bad day.  I loose my temper and freak out one too many times - or worse yet, I wake up feeling depressed, weary and uninspired, making the entire day something I just have to "get though" and I miss out experiencing the vivacious, joy-filled relationship my family represents.

We try to be super-mommas and we fail.  We try to be Martha Stewart and the stock boils over, the garden doesn't produce and our decoupage looks like the art of a 3 year old.  We try to be champions of spirituality: ready, and equipped with all the right answers but sometimes we just have to say "I don't understand".  We can attempt to be an exceptional lover - always encouraging, always attractive and always able to get that spark going - but some days the words are few and tense, there's too much dirty laundry and you're barely coping with the utter exhaustion to do much more than mumble "G'night" after circumventing another day of near-financial, relational and general household ruin.

Life gets to us.  Yet still we strive.  We hold up a pedestal, and scramble to stay perched upon it's lofty height.  Why?

I don't think it is wrong to have goals.  I don't think it is wrong to want your home, your kids and your self to look nice.  The wrong comes from misguided priorities; setting your eyes and focus upon an illustrious image.

Some days, you just need a swift kick in the head to keep from obsessing about minor issues - like insisting that all of the tangles are combed out of your child's hair before stepping outside the door, and not inviting people into your home (offering the gift of friendship and hospitality) because you are embarrassed about the finger-smudged walls, crumbs under the table and your threadbare, cheap furniture.  Because once you uphold your appearance and behavior higher than the act of loving others, and even in a sense loving yourself, you've strayed into dangerous territory.

Lady, it's time to get off the pedestal...

Sometimes I try really hard, and hold myself to far too great a standard because I just don't really love and accept myself.  I'm not even really talking about a self-esteem issue, though.  I don't believe that we should run around, saying "I'm okay, you're okay, let's just accept our issues because everyone is SPECIAL.."  Yuck... blech!  On the contrary, I know that I HAVE ISSUES.  I screw up.  I'm selfish like the rest of society and I let people down.  Rather than acceptance based on behavior or acceptance based on just being "human", I know that I need to seek a far more eternal, profound anchor.  My anchor and hope rests solely in God's love and acceptance of me.  He loves me.  Rather than a pedestal, I need an anchor.  I need something that will tether me to earth, give me roots, allow me to accept my feet of clay.  I can't be all, do all, and look like "all that", all the time!

I have noticed that the true barometer of my actions, and whether I am striving or not, is seen primarily in my happiness and contentment.

If I decide to bake 5 dozen cookies and play in the leaves with the kids, followed by cooking up a gourmet meal and wearing heels and lipstick, and I can do this with joy - not with stress and striving, then it's okay!  When I am over-extending, straining and torturing myself to uphold a certain ideal or image - it's wrong!

So what knowledge have I acquired though this dialogue?

I started out, driving down the road, alone in my dark-green, messy mini-van, pondering my propensity to try to be "perfect".   I shouldn't try to be a certain way to impress others or even to impress myself.  I'm certain that I will continually teeter-totter between right motivation and wrong motivation, but I know well enough to sincerely check my heart and consider whether I am doing things for the right reason.  I know I can't live on top of a pedestal.  I can't set my heart and happiness on a superficial image of who I wish I could be - because I will continually let myself down.

I wish I could end this posting with some magical phrase that neatly wraps up the point I am trying to make.  Unfortunately, this is far too abstract to be whittled down to one sentence.  Heart issues are complicated.  What I will say though is this:  I'm okay with not being perfect.  I know that my worth and merit is not based on all that I do.  However, I will still do my best in all areas of life.  It's not wrong to challenge yourself and work hard - but it is important to be cautious about idolizing a certain image or ideal.

"Super-Momma" is not exactly the right term for me - I'm more of a "Super (but not perfect) Momma".

Home Alone: A Sign of Growing Up

Don't leave the house.
Don't answer the phone.  (Unless you recognize the caller id...)
Don't turn on the stove or oven.
Stay out of the cupboards.
Don't give your little brother a bath.
Don't go on the internet.
Don't turn on the fireplace.
Don't fight!
Don't make a mess.  (Or you will most certainly clean it up.)
Don't do any experiments with electrical appliances, water, fire, the freezer, food, paint, scissors, yourself or (most especially) your siblings while I am gone!

Do be good.
Be quiet.
And BE RESPONSIBLE! 

This is just a sample of the tangent of concerns I race through before leaving one of my older kids in charge of things when I have to step out for a quick errand.  I've embarked upon a stage of new freedoms, as my oldest kids cruise into further maturity and the ability to babysit.  Yet there are so many considerations and areas of constraint which I need to impress upon my kids, especially considering the fact that they are not just responsible for themselves, but are helping to care for their younger siblings as well, including a very energetic, explorative toddler.  That is why the majority of times I leave the toddler in one of my older children's care, it is during one of his naps so the likelihood of mishap is greatly reduced.

At some point in time, my children will grow in wisdom, and instead of following a precise, clearly defined, over-explanatory set of rules and regulations, they instead will be governed by the knowledge they possess and the reasoning that comes from internalizing a situation and thinking with their hearts.  Isn't that what maturity is about?  We say that a person is mature if they can think before they speak, make sound decisions and not act based on their emotions and just "living for the moment".  A mature person has the ability to foresee the results and future consequences of their actions.  (Unfortunately our society is populated by a rather large number of immature adults, judging from this definition.)

So, until my oldest children posses a great deal more maturity, I will continue to spell out with extreme clarity, the "Do's" and "Don'ts" of being left home alone.  The last thing I want to come home to is some sort of odd science experiment gone wrong, with the firemen at my doorstep, blue smoke pluming out the doors and windows, half-naked children crying on the grass  (because who doesn't love to run around the house in your underwear?) and my eldest son, Ethan, saying "I know I'm in big trouble, but that was really COOL!"
No thank you.  I'll do my best to prevent that sort of unfortunate event.

This got me thinking about our growth as believers.  In a state of immaturity, we long for rules and regulations, and think "If I can just follow this teaching, that prayer or this new revelation, my Christian walk will be dandy!" However, the fact is, what matters the most is what is going on inside of our hearts.  The more we truly know the Lord, the more it becomes fixed in our hearts how He would like us to act.  We've all seen or heard of stories where the "book knowledge" or "head knowledge" person goes up against the "life-experience" person, and just can't compete with the depth of wisdom that comes from living in the real world.  How much more so with our Christian walk?  We will become the type of people whom God wants to use and work through, not when we have read enough material and attained a Bible College degree, but when we have proven ourselves to be committed to a deep relationship with Him.

My daughter would like to take a babysitter's course so that she can be a "certified sitter" but does that really mean that she will be fully equipped to handle whatever situation that arises?  Of course not!  It takes experience and maturity to successfully and safely care for children for extended periods of time, and even I've goofed up every now and then!  ....Like the time my first born was playing with a penny when she was a toddler, and I thought: "What's the big deal?  She wouldn't put it in her mouth..."  Moments later, she was gagging and choking, and ended up swallowing the penny.  (I felt like a pretty rotten mother at that point!)  Then there is the time that this same child was downstairs "helping" me do laundry.  She took an empty box of powdered detergent, lifted it upside-down to peer into the "empty" bottom of the box and several granules of leftover soap powder fell directly into her eyes.  Oh the screaming!!!  ...and the terror that I felt as I frantically called my husband, wondering what to do.  From work, he called Poison Control on his other line and instructed me to hold my screaming toddler, face up, and pour water into her eyes for 10 minutes, to rinse them out.  For the first 5 minutes, she was screaming a blood-curdling "Mommmeeeey.... Mommmeeeey!!!" Until eventually, she lost hope in me ceasing this horrible activity, and she began a heart-rending plea for "Daddy...", hoping he might come and save her.  Yes.  That was one of the most horrific parenting moments of my life.  (Just so you know, today her eyes are perfectly fine; so rinsing them and enduring the heartbreaking experience of terrorizing my poor child was worth it.  Mostly.)

While I can't expect perfection from my kids as they grow up and are left home alone more and more, and likely there will be stains on the carpet, broken dishes and magic-marker war paint on the baby's face when left in the care of the older kids, this can't stop me from allowing them to walk this journey to maturity (with a reasonable amount of guidance).  Over time, my rules will become less detailed, and I will simply entrust them to the care for their siblings and the home, and to uphold our family values when they are "in charge".

I think a sign of growing maturity in a Christian is the ability to walk along with less sense of the rules and regulations which "should" govern a believer's life, and instead to have more of a heart-knowledge that beats in tune with the God we love and serve.  The more we love and know Him, the better we can serve Him and do His will.  I can't always be explicit with my children, but if I instruct them and, most importantly, train them to think with their hearts, and perhaps even say to themselves: "Would Mom want me to do this?" then I can expect that, apart from the occasional mistake, my kids will do fine on their own.

The whole WWJD? "What Would Jesus Do?" craze was a great idea, but frankly, I think most people haven't a clue of what Jesus would do.  If you wear the bracelet and then look to it before you make a decision, you might be able to come up with some random scriptures that will help direct you, but if you don't actually KNOW Jesus, and have a relationship with Him, you probably will flounder.  I guess what I'm saying here is, my heart is to see Christians (and myself) holding a deeper understanding of "how to live" not based on words written on a page, but by the grace, love, hope and faith that is stamped upon our hearts.  And that only comes by knowing God, and growing in your relationship with Him.  That takes time and commitment.  It can't be obtained by reading another book or listening to another sermon.  Those things help, but as I've stressed in the past, it's all about relationship.

It may be helpful, as a Christian, to have clear guidelines and signposts, as it were, to govern your daily living.  However, my challenge lies in the idea that to truly live for Christ, you must be transformed from the inside; developing a maturity that comes from a heart in tune with the Savior.
It's all part of growing up.  

Runaway

I have always wanted to run away from home.

I'm serious!  Almost as far back as I can remember, there were plans made, partially carried out, but never totally completed as I sought to run away.

I remember when I was about 8 or 9 years old, and I was fed up with living in a city and seeing my dad work long, hard hours all the time.  I didn't have the freedom to run wild in wide open spaces, and I figured I should run away and live in the woods somewhere.  I believe I had just finished reading "My Side Of The Mountain" by Jean Craighead George, in which a young boy leaves his city life, runs away and "lives off the land" by himself for many months.  At any rate, I was convinced that my life would be so much better, and that I wouldn't have to deal with people who didn't like me or didn't understand me, if I could just be one with nature.  I packed a backpack, stuffing in a blanket and pillow and a few articles of clothing, and started the trek down to the corner of my block.

Once I reached the crossroads (at the end of my block) - the place where I would have to decide North or South; left or right, I paused and began to consider my "running away idea" a bit further.  For one thing, the weather wasn't the greatest at the time.  Also, supper was in an hour, and I was hungry.  I made some halting steps forward, attempting to plunge into my new life of "wilderness girl", then I would reconsider and turn back towards home -  until, finally my appetite and reasoning took over and I sheepishly sneaked my things back into the house and gave up on the idea altogether - for the time being.

By the time I was 12 or 13, and filled with teenage angst, feeling that my parents "sucked" and didn't understand anything (ha ha... now I'm the parent, and I see things a little more clearly!) I began to plot my escape from home once again.  This time, a friend and I planned to run away together.  We made our elaborate escape plan, talking of how we'd jump onto a Greyhound bus, and go to Vancouver, where her dad lived.  Everything would be better there - we could have brand new lives and be whoever we wanted to be.  Life would be one big party.  Time and time again, we devised our perfect get-a-way; how I would tell my parents that I was sleeping over at her house, and she would tell her parents that she was at mine- then we would escape!  Somehow, we (thankfully) never had the guts nor the money to go through with the plan, and although something in me desperately yet foolishly desired to run away, I didn't follow through.

A couple years later, when I was 15, the plot thickened.  I was on a church youth mission trip to England and Scotland, and I was still a mixed up, misunderstood teenager who just wanted to get away.  While it was a relief to be so far from home, in a foreign land where everyone spoke with charming accents, I dreaded returning to my life back in Canada.

We were waiting for a train -  piles of baggage spread out in the terminal, with tired teens stretched out; some snoozing with their heads resting on their backpacks.  I remember eating a delicious peanut butter-chocolate ice cream bar, and gazing out at the enormous trees in the distance and the gorgeous brick and stone buildings.  And I thought to myself:  I could just walk away right now.  I'll just take my backpack, pretend to head towards the loo (bathroom) and I'll disappear.

Really, one of the only things that held me back was the idea of just how much trouble my youth leaders would be in once it was found out that I was gone.  I wasn't so self-centered to think that my actions wouldn't result in consequences beyond myself, and I didn't relish the thought of these innocent youth leaders being torn apart by my dad (with his bare hands).  So I couldn't go through with the escape.  After another few days of adventure, I was homeward bound - back to my world, my life... back to me.

Somehow, I grew up a little, matured a little and adjusted to my life.  Instead of running away from home, I began to go for jogs and would run away - even just for an hour or so.

Eventually, I was "grown up" and in my first year of Bible College and I met a guy.  Well, I didn't meet him there - in fact, I'd already known him for a few years, but I suddenly saw him with new eyes.  So the dating began, and the intimate conversations and opening up my heart - learning to trust.  One weekend, he took me home to meet his family.  By this point we were quite "serious" and knew that this was no ordinary friendship, but one destined to be life-long.  Amid the noise and laughter and chaotic abundance of family, I felt small and intimidated.  His family was larger than mine, and having 3 boys in the family (and one older sister) caused plenty of ruckus and activity.  After a rather loud family dinner, we sought to get away and have some time to ourselves, and I think my sweet boyfriend wondered what had made me so moody.  We went for a walk on the quiet streets of his sleepy home-town, and I told him how overwhelmed and intimidated I felt.  Something inside me felt scared - scared of this bursting forth of emotions and conversation that flowed easily, without hesitation.  My family wasn't really like that.  We were quiet, civilized, reserved.  We didn't have yelling matches (camouflaged as friendly debates) at our dinner table.

And then, I played the "immature girl" card and I ran.  I took off from my befuddled boyfriend, legs stretching and feet rhythmically pounding on the bumpy, semi-rural road as I tried to escape something... attempting to run from the feeling of  vulnerability that accused and intimidated me.

The very one who I should have trusted the most, said that my actions scared him - suddenly I was like a skittish colt - wild, terrified and on the run.  When I finally settled my tumultuous emotions, I turned around and headed back to the one who wanted to understand me and care for me.  I found him: walking the streets searching for me, and praying for me.  He held me close and made me promise to never run away from him again.

When I married my best friend, 10 months later, I promised to stay with him forever, and I put my running shoes away (for a while).

Still, occasionally I have the fleeting thought to run away from my life.  I might be simply headed out on a grocery trip, the kids left at home with their dad, and me - alone for the moment; away from the needy, away from the weight of responsibilities.  Something will pop into my head and say:  Just take off!  Grab some cash from the ATM and disappear!  RUN!!!

But I don't.  I know better.  I know that I can run as far and as long as I want, but I will always have myself to contend with.  I now know that this "runaway" tendency comes from within and not from my circumstances.

This runaway heart has been seeking contentment for a long time.  I've learned that contentment isn't found in the car you drive, the neighborhood you live in, the body-type you struggle to maintain (or attain) and it isn't even found within any human relationship - because people just can't meet all your needs; they can't be your savior no matter how badly you may want them to be that in your life.

Who can whisper calm and quiet into my racing heart?  Who can vanquish the whirlwind of fear and discontent that threatens to drown me time and time again?  Who can stop me from thinking that the only answer is to run away?

Ironically, I have been finding the answers when I run.  No, I'm not running away anymore, rather I'm running to:  I run to escape my worries, and to find the calm of Almighty God's presence.  I run to find quiet in my soul.  I run to simply be set apart from my thoughts, my selfishness and my puny perspective - to find peace, sanctity and refuge.

I run for dear life to God, I'll never live to regret it.  Do what you do so well: get me out of this mess and up on my feet. Put your ear to the ground and listen, give me space for salvation.  Be a guest room where I can retreat; you said your door was always open! You're my salvation - my vast, granite fortress    -Psalm 71:1-3 The Message

Something inside me will always be a runaway.  But now I run with purpose; I always return home, and I never come back feeling the same as when I left.