A Change of Pace

Let's pretend for a second that life is a rat race...or maybe it's like being on a rowing team. Instead of the Coxswain yelling row in the megaphone, they are yelling "Strive! Strive!..." My goodness, this is how I feel at least 75% of the time. How I want so bad to dwell in the unforced rhythms of grace all day-100% of the time!

I was in the bathroom a few nights ago, trying to figure out my hair. I had this elaborate design planned in my head, but I was subtly racing the clock to have it done before my husband got home. I would begin a row of twisting my hair..."Strive! Strive!" Was all I could hear in my head...leading to epic hair failure. I undid my work. Began another row. "Strive! Strive!" ...epic fail. It looked so bad, I decided to change my hairstyle altogether. 

All the while, I'm thinking about what I'm going to wear at church the next day. Thinking about how I regret unfinished business plans. Thinking about how I still haven't cleaned the kitchen, finished the laundry, painted the boys bedroom, swept the dining room floor, or done my nails. Oh, my poor nails. I haven't given them proper attention in years, partially because of the incessant "Strive! Strive!" chant I've been coasting along to. The weight of it never really affords me the opportunity to get anything worthwhile done.

I remember once, I was spending time in prayer and I felt like God was tugging on my heart to change my pace. To stop striving all of the time. How do you stop when you've been moving at breakneck speeds for most of your life? Doing many things, but few things well? Just getting by and running on empty far too often. Bouncing from one task to another- to complete anything just to have even the slightest feeling of accomplishment. 

 Sometimes our peers can be the greatest teachers. For a while now, I have been noticing the life of my sister in law, Donna. She is a ballroom dance instructor, so she kind of glides when she walks, moves gently and deliberately- even when she endearingly punches my husband, (as his older sister) there is a certain grace to it. :-)

 One thing I love about her is that she is rarely in a rush. She allots more than enough time to get ready in the morning. She actually tastes her food when she eats. She sits at the end of the day with a glass of wine in her hand, lets herself unwind and begins discussing the happenings of her day. In contrast, most days I hop out of bed to the sound of my kids yelling for me to come and get them from the bottom of their bedroom door, maybe take a 5 minute shower and sometimes brush my teeth. I grab the boys, throw breakfast together, break up a fight over toy cars, let the crazy dogs outside, maybe even eat my eggs straight from the pan to fill my stomach before the baby wakes up and starts to cry to be nursed. You know, the life of a mom with young children. 

I was considering that maybe things don't have to be this way. I don't really have to strive and stress in the happenings of my day. Sometimes I get it right. Sometimes, I wake up early. Sit outside by the water and listen to the birds chirping with a steaming cup of tea- do a small devotional and get grounded to begin my day. Days like those are so much better overall because I start the day with intentionality. I want to begin every day this way. I need to. Not only for the sake of not losing my mind, but for the sake of hearing the voice of God.

If I'm moving so fast, I lose the beauty of the stillness that I find Him whispering to me about His great love for me and for my children. I miss Him cheering me on as a mother and wife when I feel like I'm doing a thankless job. I miss God's reminders of love written across the skies as I walk with the boys to the park in the morning. I miss what is far too valuable to ignore. I can't afford to do that anymore. 

Ecclesiastes 3:12-13 says:12 I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. 13 That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God. 

So today, I will be intentional. I will taste my food. Even though I have many unfinished tasks to be done-many of which could easily overwhelm my heart with feelings of shame, I choose to reject striving in my dealings. I choose to believe that the goal of my life is far more than just to accomplish things. The goal is to enjoy the journey. To really know the love and heart of God. To really get to know and love myself. Out of these places will flow great beauty that will allow me to bless my world and the people in it. No more striving. Just grace.

 I challenge you to do the same. Be intentional today. Rest. Love well. Find delight in the works of your hands and throw striving out of the window. Bask in the love of Jesus. You can do it! I believe in you. 

Love,

-Mel

Does he need me?

Sometimes I like to analyze things...maybe over analyze things. I'm sitting here scrubbing the dining room table contemplating whether or not I really need to nurse my 7 month old through the night. He acts like it's a matter of life and death... and I'm just trying to stay alive from sleep deprivation. He needs me too much...Then a stark contrast enters my mind. Does my 2 1/2 year old really need me at all? In his mind, it seems he doesn't. He would go all day in a soiled diaper, eating raisins and bananas, and is highly skilled at operating the water dispenser to fill his own Dixie cup, thank you very much. He knows what tv show he wants to watch, when we need to go to the park, or what t shirt he doesn't want to wear. The difference between he and his brother is a matter of time...time in the nicu.

I have been told the attachment issues my 7 month old is experiencing are present because he was taken away at birth to an entirely different hospital on the other side of town for ten days. It was at least 2 days before I even held him. Smelled his sweet hair...touched his skin. He was born with a keen awareness of my presence and the trauma of our separation.

Back track two and a half years to the birth of Nehemiah. Born at 24 weeks of gestation, he lived in the nicu for almost three months. The nurses were his mother... the beeping of machines lulled him to sleep. He never had the opportunity to really comprehend his need for mommy. It was about a week...maybe more when I saw him for the first time. The innocence and newness of his transition of life outside of the womb was only residue covered by layers of thick medical tape, as he was tucked safely in an incubator under bilirubin lights. It was probably a month or more before I even touched his sweet hand without gloves. To him, all that time, I could have been another nurse. But in my heart, in my being I knew better. He knew...I was mommy. I am mommy. I will always be.

Sometimes with his independence, I fear he will forget that he needs me...yes my job is to prepare him for the world and let him fly in time and it's coming fast...all to fast. Will he ever really know? For he doesn't know he was meant to be held in my arms... meant to be nursed at my breast. Lulled to sleep by my love songs.

Hmm...

Well, What I missed then is mine to give now. I have to teach him. I choose to give him all my love and more. I won't have him forever. So go ahead sweetie. Fill up your dixie cup and let the water fall on the floor, cause at the end of the day, I tuck you in bed with your big Brown blanket and Mickey mouse with the chewed up nose that you refuse to sleep without. I read you the same story over and over again. Sing you the same songs and I kiss you goodnight. I am irreplaceable and I am yours-
whether you like it or not. :-)

Yeah, these guys need me...no matter how much or little it seems. Truthfully, I'm pretty sure I need them a little more.

Motherhood

My job isn't easy, for it requires all of me. I work overtime everyday, yet my job is never done. My role and purpose has opened my eyes to some horrible flaws in my character, yet everyday I am in awe at a new capacity to love. It breathes and expands everyday. When I want to throw a tantrum as a backlash to the attitudes and behaviors of my little ones, and give them time outs, and throw away all of their toys, I am so easily reminded of the nature of Christ. We throw tantrums, reject His good gifts, bruise him with our words and behaviors, yet instead of returning the good gifts he has so thoughtfully chosen to lavish upon us, he just saves them for a later time. A time when our eyes will be open to see that He is good. His wrath relents, for His love surpasses it. Beautiful Lord. I want to learn to parent like this.