Sacred Mundane: The Blog

Disclaimer:  I love my parents!  It is not THEM that is what is hard for me. I adore them.  Hopefully this conveys it is my own’s heart’s struggle with who I am.  They have been nothing but wonderful through the process.

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I’ve been swallowed up.  This must be what it’s like to be my Grandma, or any really really old person who has to leave their home and take a puny boxful of their life’s belongings to a retirement home, where they are taken care of and treated like an child, patted on the head and told to do crossword puzzles or knit washcloths no one will use.  They must wonder what to do.  No wonder they watch TV all the time.  They must cry a lot and think about the years when they were young, valued, busy.  When they had the freedom to drive, to go out with friends, to clean their own homes or plant a garden.  It must feel frustrating to have nothing but a potted plant to water or at best a tomato plant on their allotted 2-foot square plot of garden in the retirement home courtyard.  No wonder they’re grumpy all the time.  Although the advantage they have is that at least maybe they’re so tired by that point in their life that they don’t care as much.  Their bones ache so much perhaps they’re happy, sometimes at least, to have their life taken care of for them.  It must still be hard.  So hard.

That’s how I feel right now.  I’ve been swallowed up.  Somewhere in the last year Kari was swallowed up and now she sits inside someone else’s life.  I still get glimpses of what it’s like to be me.  On Friday when we hung out with Aaron and Candi in Corvallis and I saw my friend Grace—I got to be me.  On Saturday when we went to McMinnville and saw precious friends and laughed and drove and played with Dutch—I got to be me.  Last week when I drove up to my friend Melissa’s and went for a hike around the lake by her house—I got to be me. 

But last July I drove away from me—at least that’s how it felt.  I really just drove away from our home, but we entered a new life.  We now live with my parents.  We eat off my parents’ plates.  We eat food from their refrigerator. We park in their garage.  We sit on their couch.  We also live in a new town.  It is their town.  The town is full of their friends.  We also attend a new church.  It is their church.  The church is full of their friends.  Jeff teaches a class on Tuesday nights.  The class is largely a group of my parents and their friends.  In July I went from being Kari Patterson, to being Bill & Karen’s daughter.  I went from being wife and mother to daughter … again.  Not that I have ever quit being a daughter, but I have, until this point, been a grown daughter.  Now I am not quite grown anymore. I am living with my parents again, surrounded by photos of my childhood, feeling as if I’m awkwardly suspended between two lives—one where I am wife and mom, one where I am still a child.  Dangling—that’s how I feel—dangling, never quite sure how to act and how to be because I am no longer me.  I’ve been swallowed up. 

And in this new church I have no fit.  There appears to be no Kari-shaped hole that I can discern.  There is a huge Jeff-shaped hole, which has been filled, and Bill and Karen shaped holes that have already been filled, and I am standing outside the front door, watching, pretending to be busy … but I’m really just watching and wondering where I went. 

Dutch provides great joy—but really my role of irreplaceable mommy isn’t that big anymore.  Oma and Papa provide a lot more fun, and since I leave him with them one day a week, somehow it feels that lifetimes go by while I’m away and I’ve missed a significant chunk.  “He’s dong such-and-such now,” they say.  “Oh, I see,” I reply, “I see I must have missed it.”  But this time, this one day away, is the one golden, glorious, beautifully crafted portion of my life where I get to be me—school!  At school I am wholly and completely Kari Patterson.  I have value, purpose, vision.  I have meaningful work to accomplish, goals to achieve, deadlines to meet.  At school I am not swallowed up! 

So if only, I tell myself, if only we could move out.  Somehow I could create a haven, a home for our family where we could be a family again. Somehow I could be me!  Somehow I could be all grown up again. I could cook meals for my family and we could eat off our own dishes!  I could decorate and clean and beautify our home, or I could make a mess and not clean it up for three days—because it’s home!  Home home home!  We could come home!  I could be ok not having a place to serve at church just yet, if only I had a place to rest my head where I could somehow just be myself.  It’s as if I’ve spent ten years developing into a woman and then all of a sudden I’ve been told that those ten years didn’t happen, and I need to forget everything that’s taken place during that time. 

But we can’t move out until we know if Jeff will have a job at the church.  We have no income; we can’t move out until we know if we will have an income.  So we wait.  “Soon,” they say.  “Soon.”  So every stupid Tuesday, as Jeff goes into the church office for his meetings, every stupid Tuesday, I tell myself to not get my hopes up. Every stupid Tuesday I wait for him to call—at 2:45—and tell me how his meetings went.  Every stupid Tuesday I hope they will give him an answer—that they will give him an answer that will give me my life back.  And I convince myself—every stupid Tuesday—that it doesn’t matter and that I’ll be ok no matter what.  And every stupid Tuesday he calls and I listen as he says, “Yeah, my meetings went great …” and he begins telling me the details of the staff meeting and then my stomach does that thing—that thing where I feel sick and where that stupid lump comes up in my throat and I realize I’ve done it again: I’ve gotten my hopes up.  And then I do what I know I will do. I ask, “Did he say anything about …?”  and Jeff knows what I mean and he gets quiet then says, “No, Sauce, no. I’m sorry.”  And then I get silent and cry, and I feel stupid all over again because I realize I’ve done it again—I’ve gotten my stupid hopes up that sometime, one of these times, we’re going to get some good news that someone will give him a job and we’ll get to move out and I can have my life back again.  And I do it every stupid Tuesday.  And every stupid Tuesday I chide myself and say “You’re supposed to wait on God, not on them.  Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.”   And then I sit and wonder when the strength will come and why I’m weary and fainting.  Every stupid Tuesday. 

So, this is just me—raw and unedited, trying to sort through these thoughts and feelings.  I guess the question I have to wrestle with is this:  If it brought glory to God for me to never “have my life back” again would I embrace that?  If it glorified God for me to never again have my own home or niche or place to fly, would I obey?  Theoretically the answer’s always “Yes, God.”  But is it really?  I guess that’s the question for me today.   

In our prayer class, the last few weeks we have been talking about gratitude.  Prayer flows from thankful hearts.  I know this.  The last few weeks, however, I can’t say that my heart has been overflowing with thankfulness. But my professor made a good point in class. He pointed out that when we give thanks, we often quickly “run out” of things to be thankful about.  It would be easy to pause, give one more cursory glance through my mind’s eye and decide that I’m done. But he insisted that we stop, take a breath, and think of more, pushing past the roadblock.  We do this in other areas of life, but somehow think that prayers of thanksgiving should be so spontaneous that we shouldn’t work at it.  So, right now I’m going to work at it.  I have a miserable cold and I’m sitting here with a hot water bottle on my neck and a box of Kleenex at my side.  My nose is red and raw and my head is throbbing, but I know that I can be thankful.  Why not now?

SO, here goes. I am thankful for:

1. Life.  I am alive!  2. Salvation. Christ has set me free.  I will spend eternity with Him.  3. My son who is hilarious and makes me laugh everyday. 4. My husband who is so incredibly thoughtful, he went and got my chapstick for my dry lips and filled up the hot water bottle without me even asking, and just told me I was stunningly beautiful and … let me tell you, the only thing stunning about me right now is how big the bags under my eyes have gotten—it’s pretty stunning!  5. Soft toilet paper that is gentle on my nose.  6. A beautiful warm sunny day with brilliant blue sky.  7. Going walking with Dutch, even though I was exhausted afterwards.  8. Spicy hot and sour soup from Lam’s Chinese kitchen for dinner—clears the sinuses!  9. My incredibly conversation with Lorrie Fulton this past week and how she ministered so much to me.  10.  A super precious card from my sister-in-law this week that meant the world to me.  11. Getting to have our dearest friends, Aaron and Candi, back in Oregon!  12.  Getting to join their families for a special dinner last weekend-we felt so honored.  13. Getting to see my friend Grace this past weekend.  14.  A fun birthday party for Moriah Kamph, who is one year old now!  15. A perfectly timed visit with Tyson and Tracy and Kai Smith … and the dream that maybe they’ll move to Molalla someday! J  16.  These yummy Christmas tree cookie things that have been in the freezer since … well, it’s obvious.  I thought they’d be gross, but they were super yummy!  17. This great all-natural muffin recipe from a friend that I make for Dutch and he loves them!  18.  That Dutch can walk like a big boy!  19.  Bathtubs.  20. Hot tea  21. Hot showers (pretty much thankful for hot water in any form.)  22. A car that runs and gets good gas mileage.  23. Our realtor, Carole Sawyer, who is the best.  24. A super comfortable bed where I can sleep in approximately 9 minutes (I’m supposed to spend an hour on this exercise).  25. Books! Love them.  Right now I’m reading Love Walked In by Maria de los Santos.  26. Getting ahead in school so that all my reading’s done and now I just get to write the papers and enjoy the classes.  27. My dear Multnomah girlfriends Liz and Lyndi.  28.  My amazing professors who challenge me. 29.  A great conversation I got to have with my mom last night.  30. Emailing with Janae almost every day.  31. A fabulous catch-up session mall walking with Megan the heart-breaker last week. J  32.  Email.  33. My own laptop that is tiny and fits anywhere.  34. The extra-life battery that Jeff bought me that lasts all day.  35. Water.  36.  Honey and lemon in my tea (I already said tea but I didn’t specify the honey and lemon).  37.  The Bible. I love it.  38. That fact that I can talk to God and He listens.  39. The fact that someday God is going to bless us with a home.  40.  The beautiful refridgerator and furniture that are sitting outside in the garage.  41.  My parents – they are amazing.  42.  Our church home, Foothills.  43.  The opportunity to maybe speak at a women’s retreat—SO exciting!  44.  Next week we have off of school.  45. It’s almost March which equals SPRING!  46.  Nyquil.  47. Dayquil.  48.  The river outside my bedroom window.  49. Vinegar and salt water gargle (I’m actually not thankful for it at all but my mom says that it helps so I’m thankful for that).  50. Vitamin C.

Today in class we read an excerpt from Larry Crabb’s book Changing from the Inside Out (an excellent book worth reading).   In it he hits on a key component of what it means to be affected by the fall as men and women.  We were created male and female, the only human distinction verbalized by God as part of His original plan.  Race, personality, hair, eye, height, intellect, and emotional distinctions would arise with time but in the very beginning this distinction stood.  And it was good.  Very good.

But how has this been corrupted through the fall.  While men were destined to enter into the world strongly, providing for their families with servant leadership, they’ve been tainted by weakness, a deep sense of inadequacy and impotence.  The man will now battle forever the unspoken fear that he does not measure up. 

While women were destined to enter the world courageously giving of themselves vulnerably through talents, wisdom, kindness, warmth, and support, she now has a deep sense of disappointment—for her man has failed her.  As a result, she no longer has the confidence to be vulnerable.  She is threatened and now feels, as Crabb says, “compelled to defensively control her relationships.”  The woman will now battle forever the unspoken fear that to be vulnerable is to be hurt. 

Who has not experienced this? Who has not witnessed it in our marred world?  Women want me to step up and be strong, but men don’t know how to do that because they’re so afraid of admitting that they don’t know how, so instead they respond by overcompensating—through harshness or lording over or gruff, hard exterior.  On the contrary, others just give up and give in to passivity, to steer clear of the danger of failure.

Men want women who will praise, love, and support them.  But we’ve swallowed the lie that to be vulnerable is to be hurt, so we protect ourselves.  When we’re not led, we’ll do it ourselves.  We’ll do our best to attract men because that makes us feel secure, but we won’t truly let our guard down because then our worst fear may be realized—that we’re not truly beautiful and will therefore be rejected. 

How can we right this? Crabb would say, I believe, that we do this by repenting of our fear of self-protection.  Men, quit being stupid and admit that you don’t have a clue!  That’s ok!  Women, admit that you’re scared to death to let all your defenses down because people might see that you’re not that pretty after all.  Women, let men fail and praise them still.  Men, let women be imperfect and praise them still. 

This is why pornography is such a sick, twisted temptation from the pit of hell.  Men are able to engage sexually without any fear of failure—there is no one there to criticize them!  They can satisfy themselves with no vulnerability.   In the process, women are demoralized and objectified and can no longer function as vulnerable beings because they are so afraid of not being as beautiful or skilled as the covergirl. This is obviously only one repercussion of the fall, but it is a telling one.  Our male-female relationships have suffered.  Can we restore them?  …  Can we try? … We can, and we should. 

You may have noticed there have been no posts in February.  It’s been a rough month and it’s only day 6!  Suffice it to say it’s just been discouraging.  Last week, we followed what we both felt strongly was a leading from God and it looked fairly certain that we would be moving out — my dream come true.  Over and over and over it seemed that God was leading us this direction–in fact, last week I just kept describing the feeling as “the wind at my back”–it was thrilled, exilerating, faith-inspiring.  Then, Thursday I was hit with a horrid 24-hour stomach flu that left me physically depleted.  That same day we discovered that the deal with moving out was a no-go.  So, stomach wrenching tears, vomiting, and a debilitating migraine characterized the end of the week.  Friday night I scraped myself off the floor and went to a Wycliffe Dinner Theater that stirred my heart immensely.  Interestingly, the part that stirred me the most was the fact that the translator missionaries were a married couple, very talented and gifted, who partnered as a team.  She struggled with feeling torn between her God-given gifts and the demands of caring for their small children.  They experienced pain, disappointments, and not a few marital conflicts, but also saw God do wondrous works through their forfeited lives. 

 The weekend and beginning of this week continued to be discouraging.  Basically we realized that not only were we not moving out right now, we’re not moving out any time soon.  This, after I — feeling strongly that I was following God’s leading — bought a fridge, table, and coffee table (we sold everything we owned when we moved out here from McMinnville) for our home … that we’re not moving into.  However, yesterday God impressed on both of our hearts that the purchases were not mistakes.  Not only were they incredible deals, at 1/2 off a normal price, but they’re God’s promise ring.  Let me illustrate.  For any of you who have read my story When God Broke My Heart (listed under “featured” on the top right corner), you know that I sensed very strongly that Jeff was to be my husband, then he proceeded to tell me that we would never be together because God told him.  Then, an entire year went by before Jeff came back and asked me to date him and eventually be his wife.  During the initial time when I liked him, my mom had found this kitchen towel, the last one left on a clearance rack, that was embroidered with a “P”.  When Jeff broke my heart, I threw the towel in the trash, never to be seen again.  I threw away the list of “Ten Reasons I want to Marry Jeff” as well.  I did this as a sign of obedience, signifying that I wasn’t “holding on” to that dream anymore. But I’ve often wondered if perhaps it wouldn’t have been even more amazing if I’d kept the towel, believing that somehow God hadn’t tricked me or deceived me, but kept it by faith that somehow God was going to work out His Word and His promises to me even if I didn’t understand how.  How amazing would it have been to hang that towel in our kitchen after marrying Jeff.  As I lay in bed crying, asking God why He’d “tricked me”–why He’d brought this fridge and furniture to us (the story is really remarkable how we came upon it), and then closed the door on moving out, I saw a picture of that towel in my mind.  Perhaps it was a promise ring from God.  Perhaps He wasn’t tricking me, but He was providing a little sign that He’s come through–even if I had no idea what that “coming through” would look like.  So, the reason that I can say I don’t feel foolish for having a refrigerator in Mom and Dad’s garage is that God has a plan for all of this–He doesn’t trick us or deceive us.  That is not His character.  But He will do things in mysterious ways.  My job is simply to trust Him, to trust in His goodness and His character and trust that He’s working all things together for my good–that I would be conformed to the likeness of His Son (Rom 8:28-29). 

So Tuesday night Jeff asked me to share for a few minutes about spiritual disciplines with his Foundations class that he teaches at church.  I didn’t want to–in fact, I almost didn’t go to the class because I was so discouraged. But I dragged my tear-stained face to church and told God I’d speak if He told me what to say.  He did.  So shared, and even though I knew I was sharing from His heart, I felt so stupid–I’m the youngest person in the class and I could just feel everyone in there thinking, “What does she know? SHe’s young enough to be my daughter!  Who does she think she is telling me about spiritual disciplines.”  In fact, I was so discouraged by it that the next morning I wrote this in my prayer journal (unedited!):  I just feel totally depressed.  I feel rejected, hopeless, hurt, useless, like I have nothing to offer and no one to offer it to.  I hate talking in front of people, I have nothing valuable to say.  Please just help me to put one foot in front of the other today, God.

That night, I was shocked when I received an email from a girl who had attended seminary with me. She’s the Women’s Director at her church and she asked if I’d consider being their retreat speaker at their upcoming Spring Retreat.  What?!  All of a sudden all the pieces fell together in my mind–the specific discouragment about never wanting to speak, having nothing valuable to say, feeling useless with nothing to offer anyone.  That was a specific attack from the evil one who wants to convince me I have no destiny, no purpose.  How clear!  This, coupled with the feeling that it’s impossible to balance being a mom with being a minister of God and a seminary student, was a direct attack from the enemy. But praise God it made me realize the truth of it and realize that I have to fight against that and move forward in the destiny GOd has for me! 

This morning, I woke up with another horrendous headache.  Jeff is gone all day in Corvallis, and all I could think was that I just did not want to do that day.  But while Dutch was playing, I thumbed through a Real Simple magazine, a gift subsription from my sister-in-law.  A feature story, Love Letters from a Marriage in Progress, caught my eye (if you have the magazine, read that story!)  As I read, everything around me faded away.  Obviously our story is different, but the couple, both authors, shared their journey of ups and downs of 20 years of marriage, following after their double dream of writing novels, raising children, working from home, etc.  Partly because I’m a writer, everything in me was drawn to their story.  It is worth it, I realized!  Our dream, our vision, our goal for serving God is going to have costs, but what a tremendous adventure to be one together!  Rather than resenting the fact that we’re both so busy and it’s hard to balance jobs, seminary, parenthood, and ministry, we can grab hands and leap, realizing there will be bumps along the way but determining that it’s worth it.

So, this morning I wrote my husband this letter.  I guess this whole post is for him, but I thought I’d share the letter too.  It’s just as much for me as it is for him.  I guess it’s a committment of sorts, to follow God and stand by Jeff along the way.  In my sloppy, slanty handwriting it goes like this:

——-

Love of my life,

I’m handwriting this because reading your letter made me realize how meaningful it is to receive a hand-written letter. To see your writing made your presence nearer … and I realized how much I miss the days when we used to write notes to each other.

I read this story today and it stuck me as literally life-changing … funny how God can use anything to speak to us.  In fact, as I read it it was as if everything else around me faded away and it almost brought me to tears.  Though our story is very different, in many ways it is the same.

We’re unique.  As Adam Poole has said, we are a team.  We are an Aquila and Priscilla team and we’re unique because in some ways we have the same vision, destiny, and dream for our life.  We are like Jonathan and Doreen Banks from Wycliffe.  By the grace of God we’ve both been given tremendous gifting.  Scholarships and opportunities have abounded in our lives.  We’ve both been told we have what it takes to do doctoral work.  We’ve both been called to speak, writer, teach, mentor, lead, train.  It does us no good to pretend that we aren’t called to these things.  It does no good to pretend that God’s not gifted and equipped us for them.  It’s about Him, not us. 

 And in that, there’ll be sacrifices.  Not having a place to live on our own is just one of those sacrifices.  There will be more.  But this story I read inspired me that we’re a team — and it’s worth it to follow hard after God’s dreams and destiny for our lives. I want to do this with you.  We are altogether one and two.  We must sacrifice for each other’s destiny, all the while recognizing that as one flesh our destinies are wholly wrapped up in each other’s.  Your strengths are my weaknesses and my strengths are your weaknesses.  We complement each other. ANd so, I guess, by writing this letter, I’m just affirming to myeslf and to you, that I’m in this crazy adventure with you. I’m committed. I’m in.  I’ve wagered it all and hold nothing back.  I’mok with sacrificing for you the same way you sacrifice for me so often.  I’m ok living here as it enables us to pursue this dream of seminary with less financial stress.  I’m ok balancing term papers with poopy diapers and hermeneutics with getting dinner on the table.  And, I’mok if it’s not all picture perfect.  The bonus room is a chaotic mess of books, papers and Dutch’s toys–what does it matter?  As long as we can clear off space to cuddle on the couch we’ll be ok.

I’m reminded again of “our song”–New Day by Robbie Seay Band.  It is a new day, and it’s not beautiful right now, but it’s “you and me, baby, everything’s gonna be alright.” 

I love you. God fashioned me especially for you. I’ll be next to you through this adventure.

Love,

Your sexy sidekick.