Cleaning Up... Again!

There comes a point in time when I can no longer identify the food stains on the floor, and I know that I must do a thorough cleaning and mop up the mess.  Last week, our family took turns having the flu, so there was an awful lot of laying around, feeling tired, and looking the other way when someone spilled their cereal or a piece of peanut-butter toast went face down on the floor, under the table.

So this morning, knowing that we would have company tonight for my husbands birthday, I decided to clean the kitchen "for real".

I ignored the children's school-work, instead content with the fact that they were happily playing together - using their imaginations.

I swept, I wiped walls, and I mopped the floor until every splotch and smear was removed.  The table sparkled, the floors were damp but clean and the dishes were all either being washed in the dishwasher, or put away!  Ahhhh.... for a few moments I basked in the simple pleasure of cleanliness.

One hour later...

Salt and food coloring drippings from our craft made a trail from table to sink.

My 3 year old had peed on the floor.

Two children decided to fight over a bowl of sticky dipping sauce from our lunch (mmm... somosas!) and it resulted in splatters all over the two children, all over the table, and all over the floor!

"Why do I bother to mop!??!!!" I said (or maybe yelled or shrieked or perhaps wailed out) to the children.  My heart was pounding, my eyes bulged out, my blood was boiling and my frustration over-the-top!

With a deep sigh, I told the kids "Don't move a muscle!" as their clothing and bare arms glistened with dripping sauce; forming puddles and spots all over the now unclean floor.

I grabbed a dishcloth, wiped them clean and sent them to change.

My floor was sticky.

My life, somehow became undone as I battled the emotions that I've been seeking to contain and control.

I don't want to be angry.  I don't want to "cry over spilled milk", as they say.

But it never seems to end....

And I wondered, for a moment, what it feels like to be Father God, looking down on this mess of a world.

He sees every broken heart, every lonely soul, every angry thought, every desperate action.

He sees all of my mistakes and failings as a mother, wife, friend... but never says to me "Why do I bother to clean you up???"

Instead, "His mercies are new every morning." (Lamentations 3:23)

His "righteousness like the waves of the sea", washing over me; again and again - no matter how many times I fail. (Isaiah 48:18)

I'm humbled by a God whose love never fails, or dries up, or gives up on me.  It continues, and I can always depend upon it; like I know that the sun will rise tomorrow, and the next day, and next week, and next year...

As I am renewed and empowered by this grace and mercy, I have strength to mop the floor again...

But, concerning all my adorable little mess-makers... I'm pretty sure it's naptime.

 

If Life Could Be Fixed With A Glue Gun...

The new, oversize Frog stuffie has lost an eye.

Moms are meant to fix those things, and sew on buttons that rattled around in the dryer, pulled loose from someone's favorite sweater.

Moms are supposed to keep the house clean, too.  Most days I scatter myself around the house, pushing one load into the washer, dumping one load on the bed, then answer the child who asked "How do you spell 'considerate'?" and then chase the buck-naked three year old out of the pantry where he was trying to climb the shelves and steal some chocolate chips.

So I didn't get around to dusting... mopping... but at least a toilet was cleaned when I gave myself a "time-out" for five minutes.

I could never finish all the tasks on the "To Do" list.  So I am once again in the process of determining priorities.  I ask myself: What is urgent, vital, required?
  
What really matters?

I'd rather have the contented accomplishment of a meaningful, heartfelt conversation with my child(ren) than know that I gave the bathrooms a thorough cleaning.  I'd rather teach my children character than chemistry.  Yet, I know I can't forgo academic pursuits in their entirety just to pursue warm fuzzies and endless snuggle-time.

I'm on the prowl for a life-change; a change of me and my focuses and direction; so that I can use my time wisely.  Because it really does go by in a blink.  SUDDENLY, I am the mother of six children.  SUDDENLY, I have a teenager.  SUDDENLY, my kids will be grown up and leaving home, one by one.

I want to do things that really matter.  I want to set my priorities properly.  How will I make the right decisions?

I was reading an article about a homeschooling mom who was burnt-out and asking for advice, and the advice given was to

FIRST FIND VISION,
then
SET PRIORITIES.

It makes sense.  I need to know my destination before consulting Google maps for directions.

I have a feeling that this isn't as simple as it sounds.  I'm not going to take this lightly as I tweak, adjust, modify, dissect, and amputate areas of my attitude, hopes, ideas and life.  Much consultation will be done on my knees, in prayer, as I seek God's plans and vision for my family.

For now, given the daunting task ahead of me, I'll fix the simple.  Time to get the glue gun and stick Mr. Frog's eye back where it belongs. 

New Season

-17*C and so much snow!

On a day like today, I actually started browsing the "last minute vacation deals" on various websites, feeling that if I could just find the right deal, I could fly my family (six kids and all) to a warm, tropical, white sand beach where we could relax and soak up some sun.  Pushing the fantasy aside, I instead browned chicken in a large stainless steel pot, preparing a hearty, stick-to-your-ribs stew for our family's dinner tonight.

Since I don't have an extra $7000 sitting around for an impromptu getaway, I could turn up the heat and the kids and I could get out our favorite summer shorts and tank tops.  Better yet, as an overt denial to this wretchedly bone-chilling weather, I could just prance around outside in a sundress, shake my fist at the falling snowflakes and scream out: "Winter, be gone!!!"

Okay, that would be some serious denial.  And I might freak out the neighbors... and my children.  (My husband? ...not so much!) 

Reality and circumstances dictate that I accept the changing of seasons - my very life depends upon it (unless I want to die of hypothermia).

For many months now, I've been struggling to return to the blogosphere and write about my feelings, revelations, activities and life-lessons.  Since the late summer, I've even had the same theme in my mind of a blog that I wanted to write, entitled "sabotage".  I wanted to express how we, ourselves can sabotage our personal success and even emotional health by making poor or negative choices.  For example (one of the easiest to pick on) is eating unhealthy.  You know that you "should" eat a variety of fruits and vegetables, and not fill yourself up on cheese puffs and Mars bars, but you give in continually and end up tired, sick, and overweight.

For me, the idea of sabotage came with the realization that I am personally responsible for much of my success in life.  I make choices that influence my emotions, physical health and spiritual health.  If I dwell in the past failures or frustrations or hurts, I may very well be sabotaging my ability to enter into happiness.  I could become fixated on how weary I felt last winter, and expect this winter to be a repeat of that unhappiness. 

At the beginning of this post, I talked about the need to accept when a season is changing.  You can't live the exact same way in the winter as you did in the summer.  You have to get the shovel out of the garage, put on some tall boots and mitts and deal with the snow.  (Or, be like a teenager I know and wear a stylish coat and cute little shoes with no socks and look pretty while being cold!)

I've been sensing for my life, with this new year, that I'm entering a new season.  I'll admit it - the last few years have been filled with some incredible challenges - renovations, new baby, living with relatives, pastoring a church, trying to homeschool, and being iron deficient!  We entered into a time of major transition this fall and had a flurry of activity as we scrambled to complete renovations on our house, sell it and move back to the 'big city' for my husband's new job.  Now that the dust is beginning to settle, I'm getting the feeling that I should expect life to be different.  Of course we live in a different house, are attending a different church and are seeing different friends - that's not what I'm talking about.  I'm talking about my expectations and hopes and my emotional outlook.  I sense a new season in life... where I don't have to expect most days to be a struggle, but where I can enjoy the tasks I have at hand instead of dreading them and feeling exhausted.

A changing of seasons requires a change of mindset. 

"Onward and upward!"
-C.S.Lewis The Horse and His Boy

T.G.I.M.!

What's going on? Isn't it supposed to be T.G.I.F.? 

Sure, that is the traditional acronym that many of us are familiar - whether in the context of casual Friday, or the traditional after-work appys to be shared with friends, or in my case - the drop-in swimming and gym time at the YMCA for my kids.  Or maybe you simply sigh it in relief: THANK GOD, it's Friday.... and you're just thankful that tomorrow you can sleep in, and relax, and zone out.

So here I am, blogging: Thank God It's Monday! Why?

Monday is probably the day where you get back into your work week and know you've got 5 long days ahead of you.  Or maybe it's the start of a hard week of studying and writing papers... Or maybe, like me, your days and weeks blur.  My schedule changes so little whether it is a Tuesday or Saturday - I still have little kids to care for, diapers to change, meals to cook, and important lessons of character and virtue to instill in my lovely, active brood. Yet there is something about Monday.  It is symbolic - the day we are expected to plunge into our regular (non-weekend, non-relaxing) activities.  Monday is the day that we roll up our sleeves, whether we like it or not, and say "Alright... better get at it!"

Okay, so if you agree with my above statement, then here's the reason for T.G.I.M.:  Monday is your chance to get started on a new week, a new habit, a new way of living; a new YOU! Every week, Monday rolls around and you get another crack at it, another chance to live this new week really well. Consider it a "Happy New Week" not at all unlike the freshness of a new year.

What does this week hold for you?  What would you change and do differently than you did last week? Whether it involves working harder, breaking habits, living more purposefully or just relishing the fact that you never have to go through last week again, TODAY IS A NEW DAY (and Monday, the fresh start of a new week)!
  

"Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old.  Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert." -Isaiah 43:18,19

 

My Dad

A little tribute to my dad:
I grew up knowing a dad with rough hands, usually stained by grease from working on our "newest" older vehicle, or from helping fix a friend's broken down vehicle. If it wasn't grease, it was drywall dust or paint from a reno job that he was working on in the evening, to help pay the bills of putting his kids through Christian school or helping us pay for a youth group event or other needs we had.
He's always been very generous and I'm looking forward to my Papa coming this weekend to visit... and, as usual, helping us work on our house!
Happy Father's Day, to all the hard-working Dads out there...!

Mommy is busy...

There is a thick, aromatic tomato and beef pasta sauce simmering on the stove and bread dough rising on the counter.  I'm a blur in my floral (thrift-store) vintage apron, stirring, kneading, sweeping, and snatching up my toddler to keep him from trying to "help" me... again.  Kids are busy and filling my home with noise and activity - one child playing her favorite song (for the 30th time today) on the piano, another child galloping around the living room and girls running back and forth as they prepare a tea party in the back yard.

My four year old rushes up to me, so excited: "Mommy, Mommy..." no response: "Mommy, come see!!!"  he gushes, and pulls on my apron, getting right in my way as I'm scampering back and forth between oven and pantry and adding a "pinch of this and a dash of that" to the sauce on the stove.

"Honey," I sigh, lovingly yet hurried, "You have to wait! Mommy is busy making supper."

And he waits and waits... and my work is never quite completed and something always comes up: like the two year old, escaping from the house (again!), or some of the kids are fighting and I have to figure out how to deal with the bickering and teach them to be loving, patient and kind!

I do my best to take good care of my children... but I am not the best example of attentiveness on planet earth.  And tonight, I had a rare chance - without children tugging on my jeans and clamoring for my attention - to enjoy a worship service at my church.  I was basking in the love and kindness of God and it occurred to me that although he has a planet-full of people to attend to, He never says "I'm busy right now... You'll have to wait for my attention."  God is supernatural... He is God.... and His attention never wanes and He does not grow weary with our requests.  Ps. 55:17 in the Message says: "At dusk, dawn, and noon I sigh deep sighs - he hears, he rescues." and Psalm 34:15 (NIV) says:

"The eyes of the LORD are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their cry".

I take heart in a God who is not limited by human nature and abilities.  He isn't worn out, too busy or too stressed out to listen to me - whether I'm asking for help or simply rejoicing and giving thanks.  I can only hope that as I experience and absorb the goodness and character of God, that I will display more of His attributes as I care for the little lives with whom He has entrusted me.

The Calm in the Storm

The dishwasher is broken.
But I kind of find the hot, sudsy water soothing and my hands find joy in the simple task of scrubbing, swishing, and rinsing.

Later in the day, I'm relishing in the glory of a steamy, long shower (the only space that guarantees privacy) and I'm enjoying the fact that kids are cooperating and not banging on the door and disturbing my solitude.  The next minute, I find myself in the opened front doorway, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel, YELLING down the street at my children (namely my four year old) who headed out for an impromptu walk.

My life seems kind of bipolar... up and down; like a teeter totter.  Praises and joy on my lips one second, panic and frustration blurted out the very next moment.

And the greatest manifestation of peace comes in an unexpected place: waiting in the van for my little girls as they attend a monthly group piano lesson.  They told me that some of the other moms would be inside, drinking tea and socializing.  I told them I'd rather be alone... quiet, reading, thinking...

So I sat in the van, with absolutely no urge to turn on the radio or look at my smart-phone.  There was no need to fill the space with activity, information; noise.  Instead I sat, breathed deep and stared out a cracked windshield as the gentle rain blurred my view.

He comes in the calm.  He breathes life in the stillness.

The pitter patter of raindrops were a musical balm to my over-worked, stressed and over-stimulated emotions.  Not even the most poetic melody or stirring symphony could have been a sweeter sound to my ears.  He played His love song to me, a simple reminder: I AM.

No matter the busyness, trials or worries; if I'm up one moment and down the next - it really doesn't matter. 

He finds me when I hide from the rest of the world.

Drops of water for a thirsty, parched soul.