Lent

I clicked over here, wondering if a blog in the infinite land of the world wide ceases to be read, truly still exists.  I found it a bit odd that my last series of posts were about lent.  And now here I am looking at them on Ash Wednesday.  Odd?  Or dare I say it.....Godd?

I have strayed.  Yes, I am admitting it here in blog land.  Strayed from the habit of writing, reflecting, and learning from my mistakes, success and the insightful responses given by readers.  My thoughtful musings on all that made up my life have been replaced with quick online status updates and #hashtagsthatmeanverylittlebutmakemefeelcool.  I have let myself become a product of my time.  Something that in my humble beginnings of a blogger, would have been topic for one of my blogging rants.

I don't like the trade-off.  When I take a moment to go back and reread some of the reflections I have scribed here on the old HeidiJoWhatDoYouKnow blog, my heart swells with remembrance of an era of motherhood, my eyes mist with the emotions that an written image can induce.  But the lust for constant feedback, for the lively interchange among friends, peers, and unknowns around the world, lured me to a more instant art.

I don't want to be a person looking for immediate gratification.  I see an entire generation of young people headed off of that proverbial cliff and I shudder to admit that many adults, myself included, are wandering dangerously close to the edge as well.

Nothing curbs the unhealthy hunger for instant gratification both physically and emotionally like a little fasting, sacrifice and abstinence.  Maybe that is why I find my way back to this long forgotten, unread blog during Lent, without really intending to.  Whatever the reason I am thankful.  Thankful for the reminder.  I look forward, with hope, to a life that has a little more reflection at the end of these 40+ days.

conversations with elli

My little mermaid was playfully splashing around in her morning soak.  I had just finished washing and rinsing her hair, when I asked:  "Elli, what do you want for your birthday?"  Feeling grossly unprepared, as it is only three days away.

She rose up out of the water and with a very serious face said, "Mom, let's not talk about this."  Which has been her response every time that I ask her, much to my frustration.  In her defense, she feels that one should not 'ask' for or 'suggest' things for their birthday, it ruins the surprise.

I sighed heavily and replied, "Yes, I know Elli, but---"

---interrupting me she said, "If we don't talk about it, I get clothes, right?  I don't want clothes."

now that's a first.....

A mournful little girl, who had been waiting patiently all afternoon for her siblings to return from school, found me in the kitchen with my hands full of raw hamburger and my mind in a far off place planning for the evening activities that would be pulling us in every direction.

She tugged at my pants and made those childish, whiny, noises that only the most skilled manipulators ever master.  And of course, as a skilled tuner-out-of-all-things-whiny, I hardly realized she was talking to me.

"Maaaaaaamum.  Kate won't plaaaaaayyyy with meeeeee.  She is sooooooo mean, I just want to plaaaaayyyy stuffed animals with her.  But she won't stop reading!"

Wail.  Boo-hoo.  Etc. etc.

My attention is now partially gotten and I'm ready to fix this problem as I do many others.  I yell into the living room at the culprit that is turning my precious baby into a whiny monster.

"KATE!  Stop reading and play with your sister!"  Wait, what?

have you forgotten how to play?

At precisely what age do we forget how to play?

At least 10 times per week my youngest child, who is just a month shy of five, asks me to 'play' with her.  The request is simple, yet so daunting.

Read me a book?  I got that covered, with voices, animation and enthusiasm to spare.  

Color a picture with me?  Right on.  I love to color, and would never take the time to do it if not asked.

Board game?  Rules and directions clearly defining the goal and purpose of the next 30 minutes...sounds lovely.

Play with me.  Like play, play?  Down on the floor, you say, make-believing?  Oh man-----my brain goes into 'danger' mode and my heart rate speeds up.  Sirens blare the warning:  YOU ARE NOW ENTERING A FOREIGN TERRITORY, BEWARE.

I don't remember when I lost the ability to play.  It seems I haven't always been this way.  Somewhere between childhood and motherhood it flittered away.  At some point, imagination was replaced with reality.  And reality bites.

Okay, so not really, but I couldn't resist.  My reality is pretty downright AH-MAZ-ING.  But still, reality, in general, pales in comparison to what can be imagined and dreamed.

I am reading "Anne of Green Gables" with my oldest daughter, and I blame this introspection on that very thing.  The character of Anne is nothing if not fanciful and filled with imagination and wonder.  She constantly challenges the adults in her life to imagine things greater than they are.  

Maybe I should quit reading so much, it prompts too much self-change.    

I think I may be found on the floor of the living room today.  Letting my five year old teach me how to play.

diving into controversy

I step into this water with great trepidation.  I may be labeled preachy.  Maybe a bit hypocritical.  And of course, judgmental.  Nothing I haven't heard before, I guess.

Let me preface everything that I'm going to say with the following statements:

1.  I did a lot of stupid things as a child while figuring out my boundaries and building relationships.

2.  I made a ton of BAD choices in the 'choosing' and 'being' a friend areas.

3.  I fully suspect that I was not abnormal, and that all kids and teens go through this.

4.  I had active, involved, and prayerful parents.

5.  I am CERTAIN that they made the difference in my successful navigation through adolescence.

As I attempt to parent my children, along with my husband, through what has to be some of the toughest technological circumstances in the history of mankind, I am often overwhelmed and fearful.  Social media and technology is their reality.  As much as note passing and 'cruising' was mine.

In our home, our oldest two children have Instagram accounts.  But guess what?  So does their mama.  Although I love the picture filter qualities Instagram offers, that is not what prompted my membership.  Being familiar with the 'ins' and 'outs' of the playground my children are on, is what prompted me to join.  Following them, is what prompted me.  Viewing what they view, is what prompted me.

Here's a shocking statement, are you ready?  THERE IS NOTHING EVIL ABOUT INSTAGRAM.

You read that right.  Nothing.  But there is some pretty crappy kid behavior out there.  Maybe not anything that I didn't think about or possibly do.  But thank God, no one was following me around at school recording every facial expression, every inappropriate clothing choice, or every muttered word that slipped past my lips.  Because I tell you what----those parents I mentioned above.....they would have stepped in.  QUICKLY.

My kids, and their friends, know that I am on Instagram.  And many of their friends quickly asked to 'follow' me.  Which makes me wary of those that did not :)  My kids know that their iPod may be for their use, but is under my jurisdiction.  They know that at any given time I can and will scroll through posts, messages, games, etc.  Their device doesn't follow them into their rooms at night, or even during the day.  It is used in the 'social' areas of our home.  It rarely, if ever leaves the house, and certainly not without permission.  I am not dumb enough to believe that there aren't ways around my watchful eyes.

So, I TALK TO THEM FAR MORE THAN I STALK THEM.

I know they will make mistakes!  I did.  A LOT.  But that isn't an excuse to say, "Well, kids will be kids."  Yes they will.  That's why God gave them parents.

I am horrified by some of what I see.  Not horrified because I can't imagine a child or teen making such a poor choice....horrified because obviously they aren't intimidated at all by the fact that adults (preferably) their parents may see it.

I know that my kids have and will make many poor choices in their journey into adulthood.  I know that they will comment something inappropriate, post something questionable, and do something stupid for all to see.  I plan to be there when they do; not to cover it up, pretend it didn't happen, or whisk it under the rug.  But to parent them through it.  And prayerfully, with a shred of the Godly wisdom and grace that my parents used while teaching me.

revisited because i used this one just last night

*Originally posted February 22, 2007

Wonder what Lent really is?

Here's the analogy that I used with my kids:

Remember in the movie "Cars" when Lightening McQueen gives up his chance at victory because he fails to see the need for a pit-stop? Remember how his tires blow out in the final lap because he didn't take the necessary break to replace them and get tuned-up? That's what lent is for Christians.

It is a time to jump off of the race track of life and pull in for a pit-stop for some much needed maintenance. It's admitting that we can't do it alone. It's saying to our Crew Chief that the sacrifice He made for us did not go unnoticed and through a few small sacrifices of our own we wish to acknowledge His suffering on our behalf.

It's about pouring the Word of God into our tanks and siphoning out some of the world. It's about rotating our priorities. It's about changing the thick, sluggish habits we've allowed to overtake us and replacing them with fresh new ones that will help us run more smoothly with those around us.

Many who misunderstand the purpose of Lent see it as some ritual used by instituted religions as a means of attaining merits, or a way to stock pile good deeds in hopes of achieving Heaven. That is so wrong.

It has nothing to do with our deeds and everything to do with His. Our sacrifices, no matter how large or small, could never merit us the sacrifice He willingly offered. Lent is a time to pray, "beyond my acceptance that I can not earn my salvation, I want to show my thankfulness in a tangible way. I want to sacrifice and take on things that have become challenging for me and stand in the way of my spiritual journey. I want to join my small suffering with the suffering of the cross and offer them as a sacrifice to you, Oh Lord, that you may turn my sorrows into dancing!"

looking harder

I am in the camp of people who have often thought about Lent, in terms of what I will deprive myself of.  Thankfully, I have progressed over the years to challenge myself a tad more than I once did.  Passing on the obvious, like no sweets or soda, and trying to go a bit deeper in my sacrifice.  But still....it has been about depravity.

An empty pitcher.

This year, as I was reflecting, studying, and praying about the soon-to-be-here Lent, I was given an idea or image that was very spirit-stirring.  I felt strongly prompted by the Holy Spirit to look deeper at this idea of depravity.

Instead of thinking about the loss and depravity of the worldly treats I would be offering up, I was prompted to think about how instead with that clutter gone---that noise---that clanking---that filter of worldliness, I would have more time, more room, more heart space for Christ.  I wouldn't be depriving myself in anyway.  I would be clearing the clutter for the good stuff.  The really, really good stuff.  How is that depravity?  More of Christ?  That is anything but depravity.

An over-flowing pitcher of living water.

Remember in The Lion King, when Rafiki takes Simba to the pond and tells Simba that he knows where his father is?  But as Simba looks into the water, he sees only his own image reflecting back at him.  Rafiki encourages him to "look harder" and then Simba sees his own image blur and blend to become that of his father.

That is what I am being called to this Lent....to 'look harder'.  To go beyond these worldly vices that make me who I am and look deeper into that image and see the reflection of Christ there.  To dump the junk to make room for the fresh flowing living water.  And in that living water, see my Father reflected in me.

So what about you?  Will you be joining me in this amazing journey---a journey not about what we are losing, but about what we are making room for?

No depravity here folks.  Just clarity.  

my sweet Olivia Mary

Odds are that if you have enough kids, eventually you will get one who is exactly like you.  Be careful what you wish for.  If that is true, I probably had mine first.  Because like it or not, good or not, my eldest seems to resemble his mom in all the wrong ways.  But this post isn't about him.  Or me.

If you are really fortunate.lucky.blessed, you will get one that is nothing like you.  You will get a child who is everything you want to be.

Today is the 12th birthday of my daughter, Olivia Mary.  She isn't perfect.  But she's a lot closer than I.

As a parent I like to think that I have so much wisdom to impart on my dear child's behalf.  So much instruction to share that will guide them down the path of knowledge and good choices.  I am sure that I have taught Olivia a thing or two---like how to brush your teeth and take a shower at the same time.  But what she has taught me is of far great significance.

She is patient.  Patient beyond anything I can comprehend.  Patient like:  people are pressing hard on her in every direction and she reacts with patience not anger.

She is calm.  Which, I believe, goes well with patient.  I wouldn't know, however, as I am neither.  She reacts slowly and with reservation.  She isn't swayed by what is or is not happening around her.

She is thoughtful.  Thoughtful, like..."I get that it must be challenging to do all that you do...how can I help?"  How rare is that?

She is forgiving.  Oh so forgiving.  Forgiving when forgiveness has not be sought.  Forgiving like, "You hurt me and I am scared to open myself back up to you, but I will forgive and believe the best about you."

She is nurturing.  She fulfills her role of big sister not as an obligation but as a pleasure.  Sure, if anyone tries her patience, calmness, thoughtfulness, and forgiveness---it most often is her siblings, but yet she loves on.  Not with a bunch of flowery-wordy statements, amounting to little---but with substance.  A book picked up and read to a little sister, a quick game of Battleship with a little brother, a 'spa' experience with a sister who longs to be just like her.

She cares, but doesn't.  She is so perfectly content being who she is.  She looks for the lonely and left-out, even when it means she will, herself, be left out of many 'circles'.  She doesn't worry about what others have or don't have, what they can or can't do.  She cares deeply about others, but doesn't let her 'care' become an excuse to change who she is as a person.  She isn't what a lot of other people are, and while she may sometimes wish that she was, she handles her own strengths and shortcomings with the grace of an angel.

No, she isn't perfect.  She rolls her eyes at us.  She likes to drag her feet about following simple instructions.  She doesn't make her bed every time we ask.  She isn't a very good bowler.  She doesn't always try her hardest.  Math isn't her forte.

She isn't perfect.  But I wouldn't want her any other way.

blame it on the rain....or lack or sun, at least

If someone were handing out absent-minded ninny awards, I think that I may get a gold medal.

There was a time in my life when my absent-mindedness tended to mean that I was pregnant.  Now before you get all giddy with the gossip of a sixth baby bump, let me reassure you from the deepest part of myself, that is not the case.

In my not so distant past, one of the strongest 'signs' of pregnancy with me, was my obliviousness.  And if it wasn't due to the influx of hormones raging through my body as a new life was forming, then I don't have an explanation.  Because typically, I am MANY shades of crazy, but absent-minded, not-so-much.

This week alone, I put sugar cookies in the oven with cutesy-tootsy little sprinkles on them, then left the house for 3 hours.  Do you have any idea what sugar cookies look like after baking for three hours?  Do you have any idea the relief I felt that my house didn't burn down?

I followed that up with this gem dandy.

I waltzed my littlest tot into the bathroom and readied a bath for her.  Of course I had to let the water run, as it takes a while to fill.  About 10 minutes later, after running up and down the stairs to the basement from loading laundry, I plopped down in my La-Z-Boy to relax.  And almost like I sat on a pin, I jumped up and bolted for the bathroom.  I found my almost 5 year old lounging in a tub that had reached the tippy-top of water levels.  All smiles was she!  As I cranked off the water I asked her, "Why in the world didn't you holler at mommy?"  She grinned through her bubbly-covered face, and said, "I love a full tub for a soak."

I am NOT pregnant, people.  So please tell me, what do you suppose is leading to my absent-mindedness?  I am going with a Vitamin D deficiency.

a message to my son

After sitting through a very tough basketball game, and I've sat through many tough ones before, I felt at a loss as to what I could say to my son, who obviously held himself completely to blame for the turnout.  I wanted to reassure him, but I knew his disappointment was coming from a very real place.  He didn't play well.  He expected so much more of himself.  And he knew that he let his teammates down.  I couldn't just say, "Well, everyone has a bad game."or "You'll get em next time."  It wouldn't fix anything.

I felt very helpless and sad for him.  So instead of saying much of anything, I relished in his desire to sit close to me and just soak up my love through osmosis.  Letting my unwavering faith in him slowly bring him peace.  Even if he had doubts about how his teammates or coach felt about his performance, he knew that I loved him the same.

It was after a night of sleep and prayer for him that I felt compelled to send him the following message on his iPod.  I am sharing this not because I wish to disclose every intimate detail of my life....but because I think this is a message many parents would want their son or daughter to know regarding sports or any extra-curricular activity.

"I know how great your disappointment is in yourself over the loss.  I don't have a 'fix-it' answer.  I know that it hurts when we slip short of what we expect of ourselves.  But you must remember, that even though you love basketball, it is just a game.  It is my prayer for you, that the disappointment you feel about your court-side short-comings pales in comparison to how you feel when you fall short in the game of life, which really isn't a game at all.  Hold yourself MORE accountable in how you treat others than how you play on a court.  The treasures you 'lay-up' in heaven are of far greater worth than the lay-ups on the basketball court.  I love you, Mom"

i am who i am.....but i could be better

I am the kind of gal that seems to question things, a lot.  I am the kind of kid that drives teachers crazy, in adult form.  The kind of employee that makes her boss go slightly mad.  I tend to believe that I can better follow the rules if I first understand the reasoning behind them.  And of course, many times I find there to be no good reason behind most rules.

This can be a very annoying trait.  Anyone close to me could attest.

I pray about this tendency regularly.  Because, well....questioning everything kind of goes against the whole concept of faith.  It hasn't been an overnight process, but I believe that I have come a LONG way in this area.  At least where true faith is concerned.

Of course I still question humans.  Because after all, they tend to screw things up regularly.  Present company not excluded.  

As I continually turn this questioning spirit over to God, I am blessed anew when He confirms in me the things that I have absolutely NO QUESTIONS about.  Of these things I am certain:

1.  Jesus died for me.

2.  My husband loves me beyond anything I deserve.

3.  I will never be perfect.

4.  Being a mom is unquestionably the greatest joy in my life.

5.  My curly hair was not meant to be straight.

6.  The church where I sit my sinful butt each week is the only place for me.

7.  I am capable of so much more than I expect of myself.

8.  God never disappoints me.

9.  Happiness is fleeting, joy is eternal.

10. I may be flawed and fragile but I am forgiven. 

I may never be good at just following directions without question.  Maybe God wants me that way.  Maybe He's using my character flaws to refine patience in others. 

the cold never bothered me anyway....

Winter has a way of slapping the good mood out of a girl.  And this girl has really never had too volatile of a relationship with winter.  Sure, I don't like the freezing temperatures and the slippery road conditions....but I love a warm sweater and cozy scarf!

In fact, I would consider myself a fairly strong supporter of the joys of winter.  I take my kids on winter walks at the State Park.  I embrace the snow and face my fear of death to go skiing at least once or twice a winter.  I delight in serving hot soups on a chilly winter's night.  I get giddy when school is called late or off completely.  And don't even ask how I feel about sledding----my kids and all of their friends have to fight me for the super-saucer!  I'm the first mom to the bottom of the hill and usually the last one wanting to leave.  I sing at the top of my lungs, "Let it go...." along with Elsa, proudly thinking...."the cold never bothered me anyway."

See.  I embrace Winter's Wonderland.

At least I did until this winter.  And even this winter I started with my usual enthusiasm and general good mood of all things cold and frosty.  (I like beer too, for pretty much that same reason.)

But now I'm just plain old grumpy.

I'm tired of fingernails cracking because of cold temperatures.

I'm tired of snow that can't be manipulated into a snowman because it's frozen solid.

I'm tired of trekking across campus to my office only to feel my nostrils freeze shut.

I'm tired of wearing a winter coat on top of my big woolly sweater and still feeling cold.

I'm tired of my car's whiny noises as it groans under the extreme temperatures.

I'm tired of my dog pacing the house because she can't spend more than 2 1/2 minutes outside.

I'm tired of the kids' snow-clothes laying unused because it's too cold to play outside.

I'm tired of people who get to take tropical vacations.

I'm tired of being tired from the extra fat I'm consuming to stay warm.

I'm tired of the extra fat.

Winter, I've tried to be a good sport.  I have tried to be the hearty Dakotan that makes others look like wimps.  

But I have had enough.  Do you hear me?  ENOUGH.  Good thing it's January and there is only 3 more months of this.  One day more and I might lose my mind.  Or at least my fingertips to frostbite.  

on my island

Parenting has a way of making me feel like I am on an island.  Alone.  And within a reasonable amount of distance is the mainland, where I can see all of the other parents laughing and celebrating their awesomeness at this role.

At each stage of being a mom, I have experienced this phenomena.  I remember when I had four kids, five and under.  I would be surrounded by people, but felt totally alone.  As they talked about a date night with their husband, I was trying to remember if I had brushed my teeth yet that day.  My brain was mush, and at every turn I was reminded--sometimes kindly--by others, that I was making one major mistake after another.  "Sleeping in your bed?  Are you crazy?  We NEVER allowed that!"  "They need to get rid of the pacifier by 6 months or it will ruin their teeth!"  Blah, blah, blady-blady-blah.

But good news!  I survived those years.  (But by the grace of God.)  It was like my birthday/Christmas/and winning the lottery combined when I no longer had to purchase diapers.

With smirk on my face and shoulders held high, I was ready to move onto the easy years of parenting.

Yeah, don't ask me how that's going.

It isn't as though I am 'fighting to survive' anymore.  I don't feel like I'm outnumbered by grubby cheeked, stinky-butted children.  Well....we do still have some rather smelly occupants in this house.  But, like their cherub-like cheeks many of the exhausting tasks that filled early motherhood have vanished.

Now here I am in the 'next' stage of being a mom, and so many days I feel like I am doing absolutely everything wrong, again.  Many nights when my tired head hits the pillow I feel like the only thing that I did right was love them.

Love them, even though I lost my temper and let their selfishness get under my skin as though it was a personal attack on me.  Love them, even though I couldn't bite my tongue from mumbling complaints about being under-appreciated while cleaning up a dinner that no one liked.  Love them, even though I holler down the stairs in response to their tantrum at being sent to their room.

So here I am on my island.  Some days it's the Island of Self-Pity, I'll admit.  But the good news about my children growing up, is so am I.  I am perhaps a tad wiser than I once was...I hope.  And I realize that even though I feel isolated in this role, not far from me is another mom, on her island, feeling the same.  She probably drinks more margaritas than I do, and therefore doesn't really care that she's messing everything up.

To all of you parents who are gracefully, or not so, fumbling your way through parenthood along with me, remember that you are not alone.  In fact, you are right where your parents hoped you would be.  Struggling just as much as they did with you.

And you know....an island isn't such a bad place to be.  There are a lot of crazies on the mainland.

the head and the heart

So many of the decisions that I make as a mom are reactionary.  Like, 'I-never-saw-that-one-coming-so-now-how-do-I-deal-with-it?'  Because, well, as a mom you just never know what is around the next turn.

Which is the exact opposite of how my husband makes decisions as a parent.

I guess that is what makes me the heart and him the head.

When I first heard the 'head/heart' analogy about marriage and family, I smirked at the simplicity of it.  As if the complicated relationship of marriage, and even more complicated relationship of parenting, could be reduced to something as simple as 'one is the head and one is the heart'.

However, the longer I am married---and the longer that I am a mother---I see the truth of the simplicity.

Now don't misunderstand.  My 'heart' role does not mean that I am not a 'thinker'.  Moms are always thinking.  And planning.  And 'what-if-ing'.  And worrying.  All that, while balancing a baby on hip, loading a washing machine, and cradling a telephone between shoulder and cheek.  Because you see, we are women FIRST.  We can multi-task.  And it doesn't mean that my husband is emotionally challenged.  It simply explains the difference in how and when we respond.

I think about how my son will feel if he's the only one without the cool basketball socks.  My husband thinks about how his son's feet will feel in white Hanes socks.  Any different?  Nope?  Okay then-white Hanes, it is.

My role as mom is so deeply grounded in the emotional well-being of my kids, while meeting their physical needs.  While dads role is so deeply grounded in their physical well-being, while fostering healthy emotions.  And somewhere in the middle is the beautiful coming together and mingling of the two, where we both seek to nurture the spiritual needs of our children.  I would never presume to say that I love my children more than my husband.  I love them differently, perhaps.

Very often as a mom, I play different mantras in my head.  Some days, they are not the holy and uplifting kind.  Sometimes I say things while sorting smelly laundry, like:  "Sure dad has a good job and works hard, but he has no idea what I do all day here!  He wouldn't last 10 minutes.  These kids are emotionally exhausting!  Seriously, do they even know how many times I've washed these CLEAN jeans?  Don't they KNOW how I feel?"  You know, the kind of internal dialogue that is loaded in self-centeredness and completely unhealthy.

But my God is so good.  He is so patient and forgiving.  Kind of like my Prince Charming.  Which makes God even better for having given me a man so near to His heart.

In those hectic moments and self-pity filled laundry-room tirades, He speaks to my heart.  Because, after all, that is my role in this marriage.

My daughter, fret not.  The body cannot function without its heart.  You- are that heart.  This home, these kids, this family rely on the steady heartbeat of their mama.  But let not pride fill your heart.  For even though a body needs its heartbeat, a heart alone is not enough.  The head is also needed.  The head balances the heart's reactions.  The head thinks and then feels.  One alone is not enough.  Be the heart.  And love deeply.  Feel deeply.  And pray for the other parts of this body, this family.  And let not discouragement and self-pity burden the heart.

My marriage is not a cookie-cutter example of any one behavioral study on relationships, anymore than yours.  We fit into some categories quite plainly, and others are somewhat reversed or less obvious.  But I have come to understand, and continue to pray to understand, just what my role as a mother and wife is.  Not as defined by popular culture and trends, but through the eyes of my Creator.  The one who created me, woman, and created my husband, man.  And gave us this amazing sacrament of marriage...where we get to be co-creators with Him.