Sorting through my stones.
This was quite a week for me, as some of you know. I kind of–well, I did–have a nervous break down. Not really, I guess but I basically got to a breaking point, where I realized I was doing too much and physically felt like I crumbled into a heap. It wasn’t pretty. 🙂 But as with most breaking points, it usually means that great growth is on the horizon, hatching out of an egg and finding new life. It’s exciting, it just doesn’t always feel that good at the time.
I knew the issue was brewing when I read through Exodus 18 in my quiet time, and was reminded again of Jethro’s (Moses’ father-in-law) advice to Moses when he came and visited. Moses was sitting, from morning until evening, every single day, listening to the disputes of people and giving direction, wisdom–leading them. Jethro says, “What you are doing is not good. You and the people with you will certainly wear yourselves out, for the thing is too heavy for you. You are not able to do it alone.”
What you are doing is not good.
Hmm. I didn’t quite understand at that point exactly what that meant, but later on in the week it became clearer. Not only is it not good for yourself, because you will get worn out, but it is not good for the people either, because the leadership, wisdom, and advice that they will receive from you will be less than stellar–it will be tired, irritated, annoyed advice and leadership rather than rested, well-thought-through advice and leadership. Not only that, but perhaps (total speculation here), Moses’ father-in-law looked down with the eyes of a grandpa and a father and looked at his daughter Zipporah and at his little grandbabies and got a little protective, realizing that these Israelites were getting 90% of Moses’ time, rather than his family. Again, it says that nowhere in the Bible, but it’s interesting that it’s Moses’ wife’s father that steps in and says, “Enough is enough! You’re doing too much. Get out of there and spend some time with your babies and wife!”
Perhaps it takes the perspective of a wise, aged father, with the heart of a grandpa, to point these things out to us. Perhaps. (I’m winking at you, Dad.)
So while last week was rough, it was really good. I did some evaluating and made some boundaries, and while I still feel like at moments I’m drowning, when I look up and keep my eyes fixed in Jesus, He keeps the wind and the waves at bay.
Then this weekend we continued studying through the book of Nehemiah. Joel taught chapter 3, the chapter full of names, about how Nehemiah assembled the team to rebuild the wall of Jerusalem, and how many many people it took to pick up those stones and assemble the various portions. He made this hilarious point about how we each have our own stones to pick up, carry, and stack on the wall, and we each need to shoulder our own stones. He said sometimes people come up to him with an idea for ministry (hinting that he should do it), and he gets this funny smile and wags his finger playfully and says, “Are you trying to give me your stones? It sure feels like you’re trying to give me your stones… I think those are your stones!”
So true! Some of us have this tendency, as we’re picking up our own stones, to look around and see all the heaps of stones around us and feel so overwhelmed that we just start picking up everybody else’s stones too! Heck, there are stones to pick up I might as well pick them up! And so I had this vision of myself, with Dutch hanging on my back, Heidi in a front pack crying, holding my husband’s sack lunch in one hand, my Bible teaching notes in the other, my laptop tucked between my knees, a laundry basket balanced on my head, picking up toys off the ground with my toes, and then trying to figure out how in the world I was going to pick up all these stinkin’ stones that are laying around! Joel’s message was a refreshing tap on the shoulder: “Hey, guess what? Those aren’t your stones.”
So as with any adjustment period, it takes a while to figure out boundaries, make adjustments, figure out what’s God and what’s selfish. I’m sorting through my stones and asking God exactly which ones He’d like me to stack on the wall, and which ones He wants me to leave on the ground, because they’re someone else’s stones to stack.
And at this moment one of my stones is sticking his feet in my face and giggling, trying to get my attention. (No, it’s not Jeff). Naptime is over…it’s time to stack some stones.
My little boy's prayers
Sometimes the high points of life with toddlers can be few and far between, but this was a kiss from God for my little boy and me.
Last week, when we’d visited OMSI with a friend, we had run into another girl who was the friend of my friend. We introduced ourselves and I met her little boy Brock, 6 months older than Heidi, and hit it off and had a great time just talking. Well last night, we got a horrified phone call from my friend, saying this girl had accidentally hit or run over her son with her car (every mom’s most horrible nightmare). He was in critical condition at OHSU, and could we please pray like crazy for them. Of course Jeff and I did, as we drove home from our Community Group last night.
So last night as I tucked Dutch into bed, I said it was time to pray, and I started it out for him just like I always do, “Dada God, thank you for…” but he said, “No, let’s pray for Brock.” My eyes widened, “Yes, Dutch. Let’s!”
“Dada God, help Brock get better.” Of course my heart melted.
So today, we were thrilled to receive news that he has been stable, with a concussion and broken ribs, but on the road to full recovery. Hooray! I told Dutch the good news and he got this big smile and said, “Brock is all better!” Of course he got embarrassed when I told him it was because he prayed to God for him, but what an encouragement to my little boy’s heart, and to mine.
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*Please continue to pray for mom Charmin & baby Brock as he continues to recover.
The Place of God
It’s really been an amazing week. Anyone who’s checked this blog or seen my facebook status knows that between the success of potty-training, really getting in the domestic swing of things (who knew being a 50s housewife was so awesome?!), and a couple other non-bloggable things, this week just seemed to go from blessing to blessing.
What’s challenged me is realizing what a fragile thing my happiness can be. A tiny shift of circumstances can seem to crumble what I thought was a sure foundation of joy, hope, faith. Or, put another way, a tiny nudge of another person can send me tumbling off my tight-rope of happiness, when I had thought I was firmly planted on the ground of inner peace. My grandfather, Howard Zoet, was a prize-fighting boxer and a poet. He was also an amazing man of God, the kindest man I’d ever known (until I met Jeff, who truly is the kindest man I’ve ever met), and a lover of words. He is the one who gave me my passion for writing. In fact, it was at my grandma’s funeral, at the age of 11, standing before the kind eyes of my grandpa, that I read my first poem out loud–a tribute to her life. I did it for him. Now, right above my kitchen sink I still have a photo of him, holding me as an infant–asleep in his arms. He died when I was 13.
But when I was just a toddler, he published a book of poetry. In the back he included a section where he wrote a silly little poem for each of his grandchildren–just five of us. I was the youngest, and the only girl. And the part I’ll always remember, from A Poem for Karina, is this stanza:
Kari, you are kind of funny. When you’re good, you’re oh so sunny!
But when you decide to cry, things sure change–oh me oh my!
Yes, I was 2 at the time, but I think if my grandpa were here today to write my poem almost 28 years later, it may read exactly the same way. I still am amazed at how I can swing from high to low. Why? We all know the answer–not keeping our eyes on Jesus, being too concerned with self, etc. But I love this example in Genesis, that I just read again the other day. Joseph’s brothers, who had long ago acted our of jealousy and sold him into slavery, now had experienced the grace and deliverance of living in the land of Goshen, in Egypt, and receiving provision during the famine. They’d experience miraculous grace, forgiveness, provision. But as soon as their father, Israel, died, they panicked. Chapter 50 tells us they feared Joseph would pay them back for all their evil, so they sent a message to him (too scared to go in person!), begging him to be kind to them, then they went in person and fell down before him, offering themselves as his servants, if Joseph would just promise to be kind to them.
And what I love is Joseph’s response, which is a comfort and a rebuke all at once:
“Do not fear, for am I in the place of God?” (50:19)
The comfort is, don’t worry–I’m not going to harm you. But the rebuke is–why have you put me in the place of God? Why have you set your hope on my mercy, rather than God’s? Why have you made me big and God small? Or, perhaps applicable to us today, Why have you set your happiness on my approval, my provision, my decisions.
Their fear, anxiety, and turmoil was all simply because they had forgotten the place of God. They’d put Joseph there instead, and there’s only room for One. And amazingly, Joseph himself is the one to remind them that he belongs in no such place. No one is in the place of God–no boss, no spouse, no friend, no family member, and no circumstance. What they had meant for evil, God meant for good. Nothing can thwart the will of our God.
Of course as long as we live we’ll have those ups and downs, but my hope and prayer is to at least be a little more stable than I was when my grandfather penned those telling words. I believe Joseph reveals the key to it all. Who or what is in the place of my God? There’s only room for One.
A Big Answer to Prayer!
*For those of you who are SICK of hearing potty-training stories, feel free to skip this one. But it’s such a cool reminder that God cares! This is mostly just for my sake of remembering!
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It just continues to floor me that God is intimately involved in the most mundane details of our lives. I am amazed that He is so creative He can use potty-training — POOP, of all things!– to bring us nearer to Him and show us His love.
So ya’ll know I was pretty discouraged after our initial round of potty training. Saturday was no better. He just was not getting it, and the straw that broke the camel’s back was as I was late to church, having held him over the toilet for ages waiting for him to go, only to finally be done, get him dressed, walk out to car and find that he’d peed his pants again.
So last night I stayed up late again, but this time just praying that God would please just show me what to do–drop it, keep it up, etc. Two things came to mind–one was a great article about why letting kids be naked from the waist down really helps them potty-train–because when they have underwear they get confused because it feels like they have a pull-up on. So they suggested going totally naked. Well since we would be spending 4.5 hours at church today I could hardly pull that one off, but I figured when we were at home I’d give it a try.
The second was that we couldn’t find anything that would really motivate Dutch. I’d thought of spanking, but I just felt like that wasn’t a right move right now–it would motivate him to be sure, but I felt like it wasn’t the right kind of motivation because this wasn’t outright defiance, it was more of stubbornness (sort of defiance) mixed with fear mixed with trying to learn a new skill. But there was just nothing positive I could find to motivate him. He got embarrassed when we cheered for him, he didn’t care about treats or candy, matchbox cars are old news. The one and only thing he is totally crazy obsessed with is Thomas the Train. His friend Cody has the complete set, with tracks on a train table, and for the Rose Bowl we were at their house and no joke, Dutch played upstairs, all by himself, on that train table with Thomas the Train, for FIVE hours straight. He didn’t even eat. He’s totally obsessed with those trains. But those little guys are spendy. I’d gone to Target to get him one and they’re $15-20 each! Yikes! And a train table is at least $100 too. Anyway, pray pray pray, well last night I finally have this ephiphany–Craigslist! But usually the downside of Craigslist is that you find exactly what you want… in Battleground, WA or Forest Grove or somewhere else you don’t want to drive. So I found a bunch of trains in remote locations, but they were still spendy–$100 for a collection of them. I found a set with a train table–for $350. Gulp. Then, just when I’m about to quit, I see two listings–with Thomas collections: for $15 each! Location: West Linn. No way. I email. Close the laptop, pray, go to sleep.
Then this morning, I go to church and somehow (because God is amazing and we have a pastor who preaches His Word!), God totally speaks to me through a message in Nehemiah of all places! I’m pretty sure Nehemiah was not thinking about potty training when he was speaking to the king about restoring the walls of Jerusalem, but it was a kick-your-teeth-in message about perseverance and waiting on the Lord. He spoke at length about persevering through the battles–how just because it’s hard doesn’t mean it’s not God’s will, in fact that usually means it IS God’s will! He spoke about what to do when we don’t know what to do. Joel said: When you know the What, but you don’t know the How, that’s when you go to the Lord in prayer and ask Him for the how and wait on Him to show you. He also gave an illustration about how we pound and pound a kick at locked doors, striving and stressing and crying and whining, instead of praying and waiting for God to miraculously do his *click*–unlock the door and open it right before us. It applied on so many levels, but I knew that had been me–angry, frustrated, pounding at that stupid potty training door, about to knock it down I was so mad. Then He shared about how God took the worst day in history (Good Friday), and turned it into the best day in history (Easter). In a matter of days, God turned the worst worst into the best best. It can all change in a day. Hmm…ok I know this is WAY ridiculous to compare potty-training to the crucifixion of the Son of God, but I admit I did have the thought–ok, Friday was by far the worst day of parenting I’ve had to date…I wonder if today could be resurrection Sunday?!
So we came home, I took off every stitch of clothes Dutch had on, and we played and talked about Thomas the Train. I even showed him pictures of the collection on Craigslist, and sure enough–he could name every one and was so excited he could hardly stand it. Then, the lady emailed me back to my amazement she lived less than a mile from us! So after another meeting we had at church, I swung by her house, happily paid the $30 and toted my brown paper bag worth its weight in gold, back to the car. (BTW, when I paid the woman she said she’d been reading my blog! How fun is that?!) When I got back home I told Dutch what was in the bag and I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. We kept him naked all day, and sure enough–he peed (and pooped!), all by himself, on his own initiative, all day long. We had one accidents, but he earned 7 new trains (and we still have many more to give!). You would have thought Dutch won the lottery the way he go so excited for his trains.
Then, after we put Dutch to bed, my parents called and said they found a train table for $25 on Craigslist… in West Linn! They said they’d buy it for Dutch (to get after a week of successful potty-training), if we picked it up. We called–the woman lived walking distance from our house. It was comical. Jeff and I were just shaking our heads. And she had advertised that it wasn’t in great shape and I have no idea what she was talking about because it is brand new–absolutely brand new, beautiful, even with drawers underneath to stow things.
ANYWAY, obviously this isn’t the end of potty training. And yes, eventually we will run out of trains, so we’ll see what happens then. But this is a huge answer to prayer. And what amazes me is how God weaves all of it together. He knew I’d be frustrated, discouraged. He knew I’d need to run to Him. He knew I’d hear this sermon. He loves my son so much He provided a dream-come-true train collection for him. And He loves me so much He was and is willing to take me through the process to show me more of His love, His character, His tender care for me.
Thanks for ya’ll listening to me along this journey. I know it’s “only” potty-training, but our good God numbers the hairs on our head and even cares about the little bottom of my three-year-old boy. Glory to God.
The Myth of the Perfect Parent
Christianity Today’s January cover article is worth a read:
The Myth of the Perfect Parent
Thoughts?
An Entirely Different Letter to Dutch
Dear Dutch,
I put you to bed early tonight because otherwise I would have thrown you out the window.
I’ve been getting my domestic groove on and have been researching all week this tried-and-true sworn-by method I keep hearing about–potty training in a day. My mom did it with both your uncle Kris and me and she swears by it. I stayed up until midnight last night researching, reading about it, preparing. The expert mom said her kids usually mastered it in 4 hours, all under the age of 3. So I learned how to throw a Potty Party. I baked cupcakes. I wrapped up a “potty bear”, with gift wrap and tissue paper, complete with sweatpants, Lightning McQueen underwear, and a nasal aspirator full of water to make him “pee” in the toilet. I went to the store (with coupons!) and bought plenty of salty snacks and apple juice. I prayed. I educated Jeff about our process–an entire day in the bathroom, graduating from the toilet seat to a chair next to it, then slowly adding articles of clothing as you mastered taking the initiative to go potty yourself. And then your daddy and I sat, on the floor, in the bathroom, reading books to you for NINE HOURS.
And you’re still peeing on the floor.
And I’m sorry to say I was just about as frustrated as I’ve ever been after I’d showed you about two-hundred times how to put on your underwear, and it just wasn’t clicking. I was terrified realizing I could become the mom who yells at their kid when he can’t tie his shoes.
But tonight, when I came back into your room and snuggled in your bed, just to make sure you knew I wasn’t mad, you made the whole ridiculous day worthwhile:
“I love you, Dutch.”
“I love you too, Mommy!”
“I’m so proud of you, Dutch.”
“I’m so proud of you too, Mommy!” and then you covered my face with a dozen of your best wet kisses. That was the first time today that anything wet was a positive thing.
I love you to pieces, you remember that. Even if you wear diapers for the rest of your life I’ll love you. But, babe–you gotta help me out here. You, me, that toilet. We’re gonna get this, alright? We’re doing round two tomorrow. And I’ve resolved not to cry. One of us has to be the grown-up. Deal?
See you in the morning,
mom
New Year's Resolution: The 1950s Housewife
In our marriage, and probably in every marriage, it seems that we cruise a while, then need a course-correction, cruise a while, then course-correction. The course-correction (aka conflict), usually occurs when we’re tired, in transition, stressed, etc. But usually it has a great outcome–it brings issues to a head and causes us to talk through, pray, brainstorm, and be more intentional in our relationship.
Jeff and I have recently had a course correction, and so we’ve related it to our New Year’s Resolutions. Actually, my resolutions aren’t things he’s asked me to do, just this sort of idea that’s been brewing in my brain for a while now.
New Year’s Resolution: I think this is the year I am finally going to acknowledge that I am a wife and stay-at-home mom. Wow, aren’t you impressed by my ambition? Last year my new year’s resolution was to write a book. This year? Acknowledge I’m a wife and stay-at-home mom. So what do I mean by this?
Not to beat a dead horse, but again–our life has been transition up until this point. Truthfully (and this is probably because of pride), I always identified with the seminary/ministry stuff of our life a lot more than the wife/mother stuff of our life. Because of that–often my husband, children, and even house…can get leftovers. I think in fact I probably was even prideful about the fact that I was too busy in seminary & ministry things to spend much time in domestic matters. I’m sure I’ve looked down my nose at moms who busy themselves with reading parenting magazines, clipping coupons (I’ve eaten my words there!), obsessing over cloth or disposable diapers. The result: We rarely sit down as a family and eat dinner together, my son often goes to bed without brushing his teeth, the house is usually a mess when Jeff gets home from work, I haven’t read the parenting books I’ve always said I would, and I haven’t been intentional about teaching Dutch the scriptures or a whole host of other things. Oh, and I hardly ever make the bed. Now, I’m not talking about mommy-guilt or trying to be the perfect wife, blah blah blah. I’m just talking about finally embracing that this season is primarily about being a wife and a mom. And, I’ve been finding the last few days of embracing this that I am WAY happier when things at home are first taken care of. Ya’ll are laughing right now because you’ve known this truth for years.
So what does this have to do with a 1950s housewife? Well I remember this hilarious article Jeff found a few years ago, that was actually published in 1955, called The Good Wife’s Guide. Of course some of it was horrific, including advice to never question if your husband returns home late or stays out all night (!). Some obvious issues there. However, I think maybe there’s something in there, under the ridiculousness of offering to take off his shoes, that’s just right for me. Right now. If I want my husband to be a prince, maybe I ought to treat him like one. If I want him to be the spiritual leader maybe I ought to let him be. If I want our home to be a beautiful haven, maybe I ought to take care of it like it is. If I want my children to grow up to be strong trees, maybe I ought to water them. Just an idea. So this last week “50s housewife” has been my secret motto, just as a reminder that little things like keeping up the house, praying together in the morning, and sitting down to dinner actually do make me a WAY happier lady.
So some of the recent changes (& Resolutions):
1. Taking my kids grocery shopping with me. Now I won’t do this all the time, but I realized I was doing them a disservice by not training them to behave in the grocery store. I can’t just not take them into public and then get all bent out of shape when I finally do and they misbehave. They need some practice. What better place than a grocery store–everyone expects kids to misbehave there. So, today we did it–in fact I was Domestic Diva, because we did Coupon Extravaganza at Safeway ($127 of food for $51), which had some near-disasters but we survived, then a trip to Rite-Aid where I had to leave the store temporarily to discipline Dutch and the security man followed me out to my car and accused me of shoplifting! Ha! Yeah, that was a highlight, I’ve never been accused of that before (I had tucked my coupon into my pocket and so he was suspicious–that’s fair. He was nice about it.) Anyway, we did it!
2. Eating dinner together. Jeff can be squirrely when it comes to his arrival time, so sometimes this is tricky. But he’s making an effort too! Two nights in a row so far and I’m loving it. Dutch even set the table tonight on his own and Heidi contributed by throwing Cheerios all over the floor.
3. Making the bed. Ok how pathetic is it that this is a New Year’s Resolution? Laugh if you want.
4. Have the house straightened up and looking nice when Jeff gets home. Greet him at the door with a hug and kiss (instead of a grunt and a glance at the clock) :).
5. Praying together every morning. This is what we always used to do and I miss it so much. We’re finally back at it, after giving Jeff strict instructions that even if I whimpered and begged to sleep five more minutes, to pull back the covers, slide his arms under me, and carry me down the stairs if that’s what it took (and it did). I’m floored at the difference.
6. Have a plan every day. Not that every day has to be an amazing field trip, but I want to have a plan for something fun or educational or just an experience, each and every day. Monday was the library, then watching excavators. Tuesday was a visiting to my grandma. Today was groceries. Tomorrow, a long walk and “fishing”. My goal is just have one thing on the docket–even if it’s just coloring a picture or baking cookies or learning a new song. One thing for us to “do” each day.
What a funny contrast to my previous year’s resolutions. Of course I’ll keep reading through the Word each year, keep up with Bible study and teaching, do women’s ministry, keep writing, read books that make me think. But, this year, 2010 is the year of the 50s housewife. I like it. Maybe I’ll even wear an apron over my skinny jeans. I could get into this.
Settling into my own thin skin.
Happy New Year! It is very uncharacteristic of me to have no New Year’s Resolutions to post. But I haven’t a one. This mostly has to do with the fact that New Year’s Day I came down with a stomach flu bug that beat me within an inch of my life (ok exaggerating, but it was awful), so after throwing up for 24 hours, I wasn’t exactly chompin’ at the bit to tackle the year ahead. Today I wondered what was worse–the 24 hour flu or the 24 hours that follow where you have to pick up your house that looks like a tornado hit. I really don’t know how two little kids (and one who doesn’t even crawl!) can do so much damage in such a short amount of time. But, my dear husband read books, wrestled, played trains, got snacks, and wiped bottoms, so I got the house clean and now can settle down to write a quick thought.
I mentioned in my last post, I believe, that being in ministry requires thick skin. I grew up with a tough dad, a tough brother, and a childhood of playing lots of competitive sports, so I never thought I was a wimp. But then sometimes–you know how it is–some little comment or misunderstanding or criticism, and next thing you know I’m all worked up inside, feeling defensive and frustrated and hurt. A week later it’s silly, but at the time I get in a huff. So I determined that I needed to get thicker skin. That’s what they say in seminary all the time, right? Ministry workers need thick skin and a tender heart. I’ve heard it a dozen times.
But do we? First of all, I am resolving that 2010 is the year of settling into my skin. You know Jeff and I have transitioned ourselves to smithereens. We’ve moved 11 times for goodness sake! I feel like the almost 7 years of our marriage has been one long transition. But now, now now! Now, we are actually getting settled. It feels so good. Not that we just coast now, but it feels good to be where we hope to remain long term. To minister to people who we pray that God allows us to grow old with. It’s fun to watch Dutch play with the neighbor kids and wonder if they’ll play high school football together. And because of that, I strangely feel like I can now just be me. I have no idea if that makes sense to anyone, but in all the transition it’s almost like I had to transition–myself, all the time. Now, here I am. The choices we’ve made, we’ve made. I’m excited to turn 30 in a few months. I bought a pair of skinny jeans. I’m never going to quit eating cookie dough and I’m not going to feel guilty for using disposable diapers (you can tell that one was hard, huh?). I want to grow, improve, deepen, develop, of course, but the general package that God created, the skin he plopped me into–I think this is the year that my resolution is to just look at Jesus and thank Him for creating me at all. And above that, thank Him that He created me as His work of art (poema, Eph 2:10), specifically designed to be a poem that tells of His grace.
So in this settling into my skin, I’m wondering if indeed I need it to be thicker. I realized today that I don’t. The problem is not thick skin, it’s misplaced concern. (another word would be pride) It doesn’t matter how thick or thin our skin is, it’s who we’re concerned about. Who’s glory is at stake? Who are we trying to make famous? Today I thought of something that irritated me and then I thought, “Did that harm Jesus, or me?” It was me. I pulled up another thought: “Jesus or me?” It was me again. In fact, surprise surprise, the things that were bothering me were things that had nothing to do with God’s fame and glory, they were just criticisms that wounded my pride, made me feel hurt, frustrated my own plans. It wasn’t a problem with how thick my skin was, it was a problem of who’s skin I was worried about. My own, or Christ’s?
When God’s glory is at stake, I need to be thin-skinned! Refuse to let myself handle His Word sloppily, refuse to let myself treat His people poorly, refuse to let myself become lazy in my pursuit of His truth, refuse to let myself put other gods (myself, my reputation) before Him, refuse to let myself get in a hissy fit over silly criticisms. Those are the things that should bother me. Or, as Joel talked about this morning, these are the things that we should weep over. As Nehemiah wept over the state of Jerusalem, how Josiah wept over the state of God’s people, as Christ wept over the state of this world. Thick-skinned people don’t weep. But people wholly concerned with the glory of God get bent out of shape over assaults on His holiness, His name, His fame.
So I guess if I had to sum up my resolution for 2010 in a sentence (though a list is bound to come, because you know goal-oriented me can’t help myself), it’d be that I want to settle down into my own thin skin and get bent out of shape for the things of God: His glory, His kingdom, His people. Kind of a tall order, I know, given my history of waving the Kari-flag most of the time. But I’m pretty sure that’s His will, so I think He’ll help me along the way.