Monday, October 1, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
On Sleepwalking
Most of the time, I am very present in my life. I am there for my husband and my kids and my friends. I appreciate the things I have and the things I can do. I feel incredibly blessed to be who I am and where I am in the time I have here on earth. Most of the time, I pay attention.
But. And it's a big "but". There are times when I can go days or even weeks without really noticing the things that are going on around me. I am making lunches and walking through my neighborhood and having dinner with friends and helping my kids with their homework without ever really paying attention to lunches and my neighborhood and dinner with friends and my kids with their homework.
This past Friday, we packed the kids up as soon as they all got home from school and drove just an hour north to camp in a state park on a small lake. We don't usually camp once the kids are back in school, but we had a free weekend and decided to go for it.
That's how I got to wake up at 7:30 Saturday morning, step outside the door of the camper, and see this:
The lake, with steam rising off the top, the sun orange in the sky and, though I didn't snap the photo in time, two colorful hot air balloons floating off into the blue distance. And I noticed. I noticed the way the sun was warm on my face but the breeze was cold on my arms. I noticed the way the seagulls were soaring over the lake and their reflection was on the water. I saw the clouds and the ducks and the leaves on the trees. I noticed.
And the further into the weekend we got, the more I noticed, and the more I thought. My sweet A. catching his biggest fish ever, a large-mouth bass.
The sight of my three adventurous kids hiking in front of me on the trail.
A beautiful flower that I don't know the name of, but that was the only flower growing in a patch of green, some of which was Poison Ivy.
A still, quiet lake and the sounds around it: tree frogs and bird calls and my children laughing with each other.
My oldest son, E., walking out onto this fallen log, pushing the envelope as usual and loving every second of it. This could be our last camping trip with E., as next summer he'll be working and getting ready for college and who knows what else and might not have time to go camping with his family.
And conversations around the campfire, with the fire hot on my face but my arms and legs trembling from the cold. Talking about our favorite meals ever and funny jokes we've heard and how the Halloween Ghost Peeps we roasted over the fire tasted a little like Frosted Flakes. And the laughter. Always, the laughter.
I am not the kind of mom whose life is made up of only my children, all the time. I love them, and I enjoy them, but we are meant to raise them to be independent and to be able to, when the time is right, go off on their own. I think that D. and I will do fine someday when our children are grown and living their lives. I will not miss making school lunches or helping with homework or breaking up fights every single morning over breakfast.
But this. The laughing and the hiking and the conversations across a campfire. These are the things I will miss. That's why on weekends like these, I take special care not to sleepwalk through the days. Instead, I notice.
But. And it's a big "but". There are times when I can go days or even weeks without really noticing the things that are going on around me. I am making lunches and walking through my neighborhood and having dinner with friends and helping my kids with their homework without ever really paying attention to lunches and my neighborhood and dinner with friends and my kids with their homework.
This past Friday, we packed the kids up as soon as they all got home from school and drove just an hour north to camp in a state park on a small lake. We don't usually camp once the kids are back in school, but we had a free weekend and decided to go for it.
That's how I got to wake up at 7:30 Saturday morning, step outside the door of the camper, and see this:
The lake, with steam rising off the top, the sun orange in the sky and, though I didn't snap the photo in time, two colorful hot air balloons floating off into the blue distance. And I noticed. I noticed the way the sun was warm on my face but the breeze was cold on my arms. I noticed the way the seagulls were soaring over the lake and their reflection was on the water. I saw the clouds and the ducks and the leaves on the trees. I noticed.
And the further into the weekend we got, the more I noticed, and the more I thought. My sweet A. catching his biggest fish ever, a large-mouth bass.
The sight of my three adventurous kids hiking in front of me on the trail.
A beautiful flower that I don't know the name of, but that was the only flower growing in a patch of green, some of which was Poison Ivy.
A still, quiet lake and the sounds around it: tree frogs and bird calls and my children laughing with each other.
My oldest son, E., walking out onto this fallen log, pushing the envelope as usual and loving every second of it. This could be our last camping trip with E., as next summer he'll be working and getting ready for college and who knows what else and might not have time to go camping with his family.
And conversations around the campfire, with the fire hot on my face but my arms and legs trembling from the cold. Talking about our favorite meals ever and funny jokes we've heard and how the Halloween Ghost Peeps we roasted over the fire tasted a little like Frosted Flakes. And the laughter. Always, the laughter.
I am not the kind of mom whose life is made up of only my children, all the time. I love them, and I enjoy them, but we are meant to raise them to be independent and to be able to, when the time is right, go off on their own. I think that D. and I will do fine someday when our children are grown and living their lives. I will not miss making school lunches or helping with homework or breaking up fights every single morning over breakfast.
But this. The laughing and the hiking and the conversations across a campfire. These are the things I will miss. That's why on weekends like these, I take special care not to sleepwalk through the days. Instead, I notice.
Friday, September 7, 2012
On Waiting
I have actually been wanting to post for a while, but there has only been one thing on my mind, and until now I haven't been able to write about it. Now, however, the word is out and everyone involved has been told, and I can officially write about the fact that I just left my job. Well, am leaving my job, I guess. I have six more days there, only four of them actual workdays.
I'm not leaving because of anything horrible that happened, or any hard feelings or difficulties. I love my job, actually. And while I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is the right decision, I still have mixed feelings about the actual leaving. I will miss being part of the amazing team with which I work. I will miss our Tuesday staff lunches and our birthday breakfasts out. I will miss the busy-ness that comes up before a big project or transition, all of us working together to be on the same page and meet a deadline and laughing together along the way. I will miss focusing on a big task so hard that I lose all track of time. I will also miss my paycheck, but I'm not going to worry about that quite yet. But my job...yes, I will definitely miss it.
But there's another part of me...the biggest part of me, right now, I guess...that is feeling tremendous relief. I am excited to be a stay-at-home mom and wife right now. I'm excited to get to the gym three days a week and to cook healthy meals. I'm excited to organize some closets and have lunch with my best friend. I'm thrilled to be able to volunteer in my son's classroom and keep up with what the school board is doing. And most of all, I'm excited to go to church on Sundays with my husband and just sit among the congregation, worshipping with my church family and hearing the message.
You see, my job is church. Not really....my job is running a ministry at my church, part of the children's ministry, actually. And while I loved meeting new families and making the children feel welcome and training new classroom volunteers and being "on" all Sunday morning, every Sunday, I have grown so weary. It wasn't my weekday job...I loved that part of it, and I still do. I love editing the curriculum and working on the budget and poring over spreadsheets and all of those weekday tasks that had me toiling away behind the scenes. And Sunday church was just another part of my job, one that was hard some days and fun some days, and always interesting and exhausting. But for the past couple of months, as I have watched my friends and family go into the worship center, and come out talking about the service, I have been a bit resentful. Church, lately, has felt like work. And work, in turn, has felt like God. And that's not okay. I am more than ready for church to feel like church again. I need for God to just be God, in all his glory. He always was, of course. It was me that changed. It was me that stopped seeing it.
I feel so in-between right now. I have a few more days at my job but I'm not doing any of my normal stuff. I'm just preparing things to be able to easily pass on my tasks to whoever comes next in this position. So I'm sort of gone, but not really. Not yet. And what I wonder is, what comes next? Where will I be in a few months? In a year? Five years from now? I really have no idea. And for the first time in my whole life, I'm not working hard at trying to figure it out. I'm waiting to be shown. I'm waiting to see what God has in store for me. I'm just doing the "next right thing."
So that's what's going on with me. That's why I haven't written. The decision, and the resignation, and the process of moving on has been all that's on my mind lately. I'm so glad to finally get to share it all. And I guess we'll find out together what's next on my journey. Thank you so much for reading.
I'm not leaving because of anything horrible that happened, or any hard feelings or difficulties. I love my job, actually. And while I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is the right decision, I still have mixed feelings about the actual leaving. I will miss being part of the amazing team with which I work. I will miss our Tuesday staff lunches and our birthday breakfasts out. I will miss the busy-ness that comes up before a big project or transition, all of us working together to be on the same page and meet a deadline and laughing together along the way. I will miss focusing on a big task so hard that I lose all track of time. I will also miss my paycheck, but I'm not going to worry about that quite yet. But my job...yes, I will definitely miss it.
But there's another part of me...the biggest part of me, right now, I guess...that is feeling tremendous relief. I am excited to be a stay-at-home mom and wife right now. I'm excited to get to the gym three days a week and to cook healthy meals. I'm excited to organize some closets and have lunch with my best friend. I'm thrilled to be able to volunteer in my son's classroom and keep up with what the school board is doing. And most of all, I'm excited to go to church on Sundays with my husband and just sit among the congregation, worshipping with my church family and hearing the message.
You see, my job is church. Not really....my job is running a ministry at my church, part of the children's ministry, actually. And while I loved meeting new families and making the children feel welcome and training new classroom volunteers and being "on" all Sunday morning, every Sunday, I have grown so weary. It wasn't my weekday job...I loved that part of it, and I still do. I love editing the curriculum and working on the budget and poring over spreadsheets and all of those weekday tasks that had me toiling away behind the scenes. And Sunday church was just another part of my job, one that was hard some days and fun some days, and always interesting and exhausting. But for the past couple of months, as I have watched my friends and family go into the worship center, and come out talking about the service, I have been a bit resentful. Church, lately, has felt like work. And work, in turn, has felt like God. And that's not okay. I am more than ready for church to feel like church again. I need for God to just be God, in all his glory. He always was, of course. It was me that changed. It was me that stopped seeing it.
I feel so in-between right now. I have a few more days at my job but I'm not doing any of my normal stuff. I'm just preparing things to be able to easily pass on my tasks to whoever comes next in this position. So I'm sort of gone, but not really. Not yet. And what I wonder is, what comes next? Where will I be in a few months? In a year? Five years from now? I really have no idea. And for the first time in my whole life, I'm not working hard at trying to figure it out. I'm waiting to be shown. I'm waiting to see what God has in store for me. I'm just doing the "next right thing."
So that's what's going on with me. That's why I haven't written. The decision, and the resignation, and the process of moving on has been all that's on my mind lately. I'm so glad to finally get to share it all. And I guess we'll find out together what's next on my journey. Thank you so much for reading.
Monday, August 13, 2012
On Having Time
A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to an acquaintance and mentioned a book I was in the middle of reading. And she said, "Oh, I wish I had time to read!" For the rest of the day, I let those few words, that small comment, make me feel like a terrible person. I'm sure she didn't mean it that way. I'm sure it wasn't intentional. And I didn't really think it in the most alive parts of my brain, in there with "It's so cold in here" and "These shoes are really hurting my feet". It was deep down in the less active part of my brain, waiting to spring up at me when I least expected it. And for hours, way down deep, I thought that if I have time to read, and she doesn't, it must mean that she's more important than I am. It must mean that her house is cleaner, and her children are happier, and her social life is much more exciting than mine. Maybe, just maybe, having time to read means that I'm a failure.
That night, I sat in my favorite chair and finished a great novel, slapping the book closed with a satisfying sigh. And I realized: I love to read. I have time to read because I make time. I have time to read because it makes me feel relaxed, and sane, and like I'm broadening my horizons. Reading gives me a few minutes of time to myself, when I can learn about things in the world outside my own realm of experience. Reading helps me understand people and places and experiences and feelings that are different and that I might not understand otherwise. It makes me use my imagination, and wonder how I would handle certain situations. Reading makes me think outside the box, and it makes me see life in a way that I usually don't. Those things are important to me, so yes, I make time to read.
That acquaintance of mine? I'm sure she feels like she doesn't have time to read. And come to think of it, I can pretty much guarantee that her house is cleaner than mine. But I'm sure that she makes time for whatever it is that makes her feel a little more sane. Maybe it's knitting, or gardening, or baking. Maybe it's watching The Real Housewives of Wherever.
And if she doesn't make time for that something, for a little margin in her life, for something that isn't laundry and cooking and housework and spreadsheets, then I think she must be stressed out and unhappy. I think she must have forgotten who she is as a person, and that she is more than a mother and a wife and an employee. And if that's true, if she's forgotten how to be her, I'm thinking that her house might be clean, but her husband and her children can't possibly be happier than mine.
This can apply to lots of things, actually. It's not just reading. It's that old friend that I run into every few months that, every time, says she has been meaning to call me, or email me, or text me about having lunch together one of these days. But she's so busy!! There's just no time!! It's the same thing, all over again.
Hey, I get it. I know that schedules get crazy and that people really are busy. I'm busy, too, with three kids and a job and a husband that needs me when he's in town, and maybe needs me even more when he's not in town. I have laundry, and dishes, and dirty bathrooms, and bills to pay, and errands to do, and a sticky, lemonade-covered kitchen floor that needs mopping. Those are things that have to get done. I get it.
But there are also amazing paintings that need to be seen, and moments with my children not to be missed. There are epic movies to watch, and cities to explore. There are friends who want to spend time with me, and a husband who has been off to war twice and can be called to go again. And yes, there are great books to read.
I hope that next time I start to say that I don't have time for something, I will catch myself, and edit my words. I hope that I will realize that it must not be something that's important enough to me that I make time for it. It's not on my list of things that I value right now. And that's okay. Those things are different for everyone. If you don't want to read, don't read. If you don't want to travel, don't travel. But call it what it is. It's not that you don't have time, it's that it's not important enough to you to make the time. And it's okay.
Darn. There goes my excuse for not exercising.
That night, I sat in my favorite chair and finished a great novel, slapping the book closed with a satisfying sigh. And I realized: I love to read. I have time to read because I make time. I have time to read because it makes me feel relaxed, and sane, and like I'm broadening my horizons. Reading gives me a few minutes of time to myself, when I can learn about things in the world outside my own realm of experience. Reading helps me understand people and places and experiences and feelings that are different and that I might not understand otherwise. It makes me use my imagination, and wonder how I would handle certain situations. Reading makes me think outside the box, and it makes me see life in a way that I usually don't. Those things are important to me, so yes, I make time to read.
That acquaintance of mine? I'm sure she feels like she doesn't have time to read. And come to think of it, I can pretty much guarantee that her house is cleaner than mine. But I'm sure that she makes time for whatever it is that makes her feel a little more sane. Maybe it's knitting, or gardening, or baking. Maybe it's watching The Real Housewives of Wherever.
And if she doesn't make time for that something, for a little margin in her life, for something that isn't laundry and cooking and housework and spreadsheets, then I think she must be stressed out and unhappy. I think she must have forgotten who she is as a person, and that she is more than a mother and a wife and an employee. And if that's true, if she's forgotten how to be her, I'm thinking that her house might be clean, but her husband and her children can't possibly be happier than mine.
This can apply to lots of things, actually. It's not just reading. It's that old friend that I run into every few months that, every time, says she has been meaning to call me, or email me, or text me about having lunch together one of these days. But she's so busy!! There's just no time!! It's the same thing, all over again.
Hey, I get it. I know that schedules get crazy and that people really are busy. I'm busy, too, with three kids and a job and a husband that needs me when he's in town, and maybe needs me even more when he's not in town. I have laundry, and dishes, and dirty bathrooms, and bills to pay, and errands to do, and a sticky, lemonade-covered kitchen floor that needs mopping. Those are things that have to get done. I get it.
But there are also amazing paintings that need to be seen, and moments with my children not to be missed. There are epic movies to watch, and cities to explore. There are friends who want to spend time with me, and a husband who has been off to war twice and can be called to go again. And yes, there are great books to read.
I hope that next time I start to say that I don't have time for something, I will catch myself, and edit my words. I hope that I will realize that it must not be something that's important enough to me that I make time for it. It's not on my list of things that I value right now. And that's okay. Those things are different for everyone. If you don't want to read, don't read. If you don't want to travel, don't travel. But call it what it is. It's not that you don't have time, it's that it's not important enough to you to make the time. And it's okay.
Darn. There goes my excuse for not exercising.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
On Dinner Out
I've had a stressful few days, so D. decided to take us all to dinner tonight, before heading to my parents' house. We are here doing laundry and watching the Olympics since my dryer is still very broken.
My youngest, A., is the least adventurous eater of all of us. I celebrate every time I manage to get something green in that kid. Actually, I celebrate every time I get something in him that is not a hot dog or pizza. Imagine my surprise when D. ordered this, and A. actually ate it!
Alligator! I found it to be a bit too chewy and rubbery for my taste, and J. wasn't sure at all! But A. liked it! There's hope yet!
My youngest, A., is the least adventurous eater of all of us. I celebrate every time I manage to get something green in that kid. Actually, I celebrate every time I get something in him that is not a hot dog or pizza. Imagine my surprise when D. ordered this, and A. actually ate it!
Saturday, July 28, 2012
On Dutch Pancakes
There is a restaurant nearby that is THE breakfast place for most of the people I know. They serve many, many things I like, but one of my favorites is a fluffy, baked "pancake" thing. A few years ago, I searched the internet for hours until I found a recipe for this favorite, and I had to try a couple of different things to make it "just right", but I finally did it.
So tonight, D. is out of town again, or still, or something, and I'm in the mood for something easy to make for dinner. I love making breakfast for dinner, but this doesn't even seem like breakfast...it seems more like dessert. There is actually very little nutritional value, after all. But it's one night, and my kids will live. Besides, it's delicious!
Here's what you do:
Preheat your oven to 425 degrees (F). In a mixing bowl, combine 4 eggs, 1/4 teaspoon of salt, 1 cup all-purpose flour, and 1 cup of milk. You may use a blender if you wish.
Put 2 Tablespoons of butter in each of two pie plates. Stick those in the oven to melt the butter. Once it's melted, divide the batter you made evenly into the pie plates. Do not mix!
Bake for 15-20 minutes until the mixture rises and browns on the edges. Serve immediately.
There are two ways I love to eat this. One is to squeeze some fresh lemon slices all over it and sprinkle it with powdered sugar.
The other is to fill it with fresh strawberries and some whipped cream, which is how my kids are opting to eat it tonight. (Told you it was dessert-ish!)
I can eat one pancake all by myself, and my younger kids are usually happy to split one. The great thing is, it's very easy to double or even triple the recipe when needed. These are also so easy but impressive if you decide to invite someone over for breakfast or brunch.
Enjoy!
So tonight, D. is out of town again, or still, or something, and I'm in the mood for something easy to make for dinner. I love making breakfast for dinner, but this doesn't even seem like breakfast...it seems more like dessert. There is actually very little nutritional value, after all. But it's one night, and my kids will live. Besides, it's delicious!
Here's what you do:
Preheat your oven to 425 degrees (F). In a mixing bowl, combine 4 eggs, 1/4 teaspoon of salt, 1 cup all-purpose flour, and 1 cup of milk. You may use a blender if you wish.
Put 2 Tablespoons of butter in each of two pie plates. Stick those in the oven to melt the butter. Once it's melted, divide the batter you made evenly into the pie plates. Do not mix!
Bake for 15-20 minutes until the mixture rises and browns on the edges. Serve immediately.
There are two ways I love to eat this. One is to squeeze some fresh lemon slices all over it and sprinkle it with powdered sugar.
Enjoy!
Friday, July 27, 2012
On Dreams
I'm not really a sports fan. In high school and college I was crazy about ice hockey and watched every game. My husband is a fan of baseball and I'll watch that with him sometimes. But mostly, I can take it or leave it.
But then, every couple of years, the Olympics come along, and I am hooked. It's not about the sports, actually. I am, after all, possibly the least competitive person in the world.
But here's the thing: each person there has trained and dreamed and prepared and worked their butts off for that moment. They have woken up while it's still dark, they have practiced until they hurt, they have given up sleep and plans and friends, and they have done it all for this very opportunity. This is it....their chance. Their moment. And we get to watch it all.
My family makes fun of me often. While I don't watch sports, I do like to watch the Stanley Cup finals, the World Series, the Super Bowl. These moments are the pinnacle. They're the big moment. The dream. And when it's over, I cheer for the winner but I cry tears for the loser, as well. It was their dream, too. They worked hard, they dreamed, they lost sleep and blood. And while they got to play and show their talent and just have the amazing experience of being there, it didn't end how they hoped. It breaks my heart.
So tonight is the Opening Ceremony. And you can bet I will be watching. For the next couple of weeks, I will ignore the dishes and the laundry and maybe even my books (gasp!!)as I am glued to the television watching some amazing athletes experiencing their Moments. I will cheer for many of them, and I will cry for some of them. But most of all, I will allow myself to be incredibly inspired....not because I want to be a gymnast or a diver or a triathlete, but because I have dreams of my own. And while my Big Moment will not be clutching a gold medal and crying along to the National Anthem, they are still big dreams that often feel impossible to reach. And in that moment, while I watch others have their gold medal/National Anthem moments, I will believe for a heartbeat that maybe, someday, if I stretch and work and lean on the One who makes all things possible, my dreams will come true, too.
But then, every couple of years, the Olympics come along, and I am hooked. It's not about the sports, actually. I am, after all, possibly the least competitive person in the world.
But here's the thing: each person there has trained and dreamed and prepared and worked their butts off for that moment. They have woken up while it's still dark, they have practiced until they hurt, they have given up sleep and plans and friends, and they have done it all for this very opportunity. This is it....their chance. Their moment. And we get to watch it all.
My family makes fun of me often. While I don't watch sports, I do like to watch the Stanley Cup finals, the World Series, the Super Bowl. These moments are the pinnacle. They're the big moment. The dream. And when it's over, I cheer for the winner but I cry tears for the loser, as well. It was their dream, too. They worked hard, they dreamed, they lost sleep and blood. And while they got to play and show their talent and just have the amazing experience of being there, it didn't end how they hoped. It breaks my heart.
So tonight is the Opening Ceremony. And you can bet I will be watching. For the next couple of weeks, I will ignore the dishes and the laundry and maybe even my books (gasp!!)as I am glued to the television watching some amazing athletes experiencing their Moments. I will cheer for many of them, and I will cry for some of them. But most of all, I will allow myself to be incredibly inspired....not because I want to be a gymnast or a diver or a triathlete, but because I have dreams of my own. And while my Big Moment will not be clutching a gold medal and crying along to the National Anthem, they are still big dreams that often feel impossible to reach. And in that moment, while I watch others have their gold medal/National Anthem moments, I will believe for a heartbeat that maybe, someday, if I stretch and work and lean on the One who makes all things possible, my dreams will come true, too.
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