Month: May 2013 (Page 2 of 5)

In a day’s work

Today, as a family, we accomplished the following:

  • Made a dozen muffins for breakfast. Ate 3/4 of them. Froze remaining 3. 
  • Spent a daddy/daughter morning with breakfast, a haircut and a trip to Meijer for lettuce (for lunch).
  • Hung up winter coats and organized children’s shoes in the closet. 
  • Vacuumed all floors upstairs, put away things previously strung about on the floors.
  • Laundry detergent made. (1 bar of Dr. Bronner’s soap shredded/chopped + 1 cup each of borax, washing soda and baking soda. Approx. 1 formula scooper per load). 
  • 3 Loads of laundry washed & dried.
  • Trip to the greenhouse for the last of the garden starts (Roma tomatoes, broccoli, cabbage), herbs and a few flowers for the front of the house.
  • Trip to Piqua just to enjoy the view because we missed our turn.
  • Lunch – delicious salad, complete with a fresh cilantro lime vinaigrette. 
  • Swept up extremely dirty kitchen floors. 
  • Naps by every single person in the house. At the same time. 
  • Ate homemade popsicles on the front porch swing (1/2 c. orange juice, 1/2 cup vanilla coconut milk, spot of vanilla, spot of maple syrup or honey, frozen into popsicle molds).
  • Planted aforementioned flowers. 
  • Planted aforementioned starts and herbs (in pots). 
  • Weeded garden (well, at least around the onions).
  • Built string trellis for green beans to climb.
  • Grilled steak, baked french fries, thawed green beans.
  • Showers with washed hair.
  • Aforementioned clean laundry folded and put away.
  • Snack and a movie.
  • Evening with a buddy.
  • Eyebrows and upper lip waxed.
Now, I say this not to brag about our productivity levels (but considering that 3 of us combine for an age of 8 and another can’t walk with her feet pointing straight in front of her, I feel like we fared well). 
What I enjoyed most about today isn’t the feeling of crossing these things off the list but rather the sense of home-making it created. The kids enjoyed helping with each of the activities and we all felt good about contributing to the well being of our household. Sure, it’s all stuff that needs done to make the house run smoothly, so in a sense there’s a level of efficiency, but I also love how it comes together to make our house more than just the place we sleep and eat, but also the place we spend some of our days. 
Our home. 
We could spend our money to have a large chunk of these tasks completed on our behalf, but I love the sense of provision that comes from getting dirt under my nails and mixing my salad dressing. I feel enabled, empowered, as if I have a voice and mind behind what I’m doing. These simple tasks remove me from a victim-of-life-that’s-out-of-control mentality and place me firmly on the ground of Active Participant in this world. 
I just read the other morning that God gave us tasks in the Garden before the Fall. Work isn’t evil. It’s our way of participating in the creative nature of God’s presence. The curse put a man’s brow to the plow, but I believe what really happened might have simply been a skewed view of work and why we must labor in order to produce. A bit of pain suddenly accompanied the accomplishment. (True for the woman as well, and ironic that both parts of the repercussions of the Fall are referred to as “labor.”)
The work isn’t evil; in fact, I wonder if a tad bit of idolatry slips into the picture when we start believing our time is “worth” more than our efforts, especially when the time benefits our pocketbooks over the ways in which God is moving and growing and sustaining and furthering His Kingdom in this world. Perhaps it’s only through the work of the “curse” that we truly understand and appreciate the gift of the fruits of our labor. 

Jim, Pam and the rest of life

Hands down, season 3 was an Office high note for me (and, based on the lookbacks pre-last episode, it was for the cast as well). I remember multiple quotes from seasons 3 and 4 being used as teachable moments or simply random texts to Kristy. 

So I think to myself, “would a stupid person do this?” and if so, I do not do that thing. 
I bought the Beni Hana Christmas and the Jim & Pam Wedding episode on itunes. This was pre-DVR yet post-VHS era and I had no choice, but I watched and rewatched my money’s worth. 
I put a mark on her arm… so I could tell them apart. 
The season following was hit-and-miss, though I still had high hopes. Don’t get me wrong… the sharpie marker directives by Dwight were quoted frequently during a time when several of my friends’ babies were born (and that episode replayed the night little Kyle was born, which provided a flurry of texts). And when Pam got excited over the baby suddenly latching better, only to find out it was the wrong baby? Hilariousness. 
But to be honest, after Jim and Pam got married and had their baby… I gave up on them. For some reason, once I had my happy ending, I had little incentive to come back for more. Especially because Jim seemed to stop pranking Dwight. 
Bears. Beets. Battlestar Galactica
And once Steve Carrell – who generally only provoked anxiety upon me each episode – left, I only tuned in when JJ happened upon the station. We didn’t even set the DVR. 
My slow fade from The Office allegiance made me question life. I don’t think as a whole the product diminished in quality; the characters continued to come to life, story lines deepened even amid the shallow setting. 
But Jim and Pam were together and part of me felt like the development arc had hit a plateau. I got what I wanted and moved on. 
I think it has something to do with Donald Miller’s take on story and how we love the conflict. It changes us. We thrive with the tension, the not knowing. Once resolution begins, we want to know how it turns out, but it lacks the power of the unknown. And somewhere we know that the resolution, the peace, isn’t what changes us and develops us, but rather in that tension. 
Perhaps that’s why I was drawn back for the final episode. Not simply to relive the best moments (wallets in vending machines, popping medicine balls) but also to celebrate the growth of the characters. I’m not just celebrating that Jim and Pam are together, but reminiscing on the very qualities that drew them together in the first place. I’m watching and loving their journey, not just their victory in enduring the hard times.  
So often in the tension we ache for resolution. But if we’re not careful and the resolution becomes the point, we quit the story several seasons before the show is over.  

When a boy loves his mama (on dandelions and plaster-of-paris)

This week marked my first to receive heartfelt gifts from my eldest. It started with the classic dandelion bouquet (in a vase, no less!); today he gave me a card and necklace that he made at preschool. (You can’t tell from the picture, but it’s plaster-of-paris on a string with an imprint of a beer cap in it. Yes, beer – he told me specifically. He knows his mama and I love his school.) 
Most precious: his excitement of the giving. He told me umpteen times how happy I was to get the flowers. And he barely let me wait to get home from school before unwrapping the necklace – he actually told me what it was upon first sight of me. “Mom!!!!! I made you a necklace!!!!!” I tried to convince him to let me wait until Daddy was around to unwrap it, but he would have none of it. Then, as we said our pre-nap prayers, he told me that he wanted me to take the necklace off when I ate because he didn’t want me to get it messy. Well, of course
I’ll treasure these sweet trinkets. I’ll lovingly store them away (well, maybe not the dandelions) and show them again when he’s older. 
As I enjoy them now, I’m drawn to reflect on the nature of love and giving and how we’re completely incapable of giving gifts to truly reflect our gratitude. Specifically, because lately I’ve enjoyed this parenting-as-God’s-perspective-thing (boy that sounds quite idolatrous, doesn’t it?), I have to wonder how many bouquets of dandelions I’ve handed to God, proud of my work and confident that it is, indeed the best. gift. ever.  
God lovingly accepts them. He understands that what we have to offer, no matter how meager, comes from the heart. It’s not the flowers or the necklace, but the diligence in giving. To be honest, it’s probably more for the giver than the gifted. My heart jumps because he’s so excited to give, not because I need to receive anything. 
So I consider how I try to express to God my love. My worship; my words of praise; my prayers. To think, these are likely plaster-of-paris necklaces, meager in comparison but gladly worn. Given probably more for my sake than His. 
It’s ironic, isn’t it? This year, at 4 years old, is the first H Boy has attempted independent (yet aided) gift-giving. The previous 3 years required a bit of help from daddy on the holidays. However, these first 4 years of life have been when he’s needed me most. In fact, of all my 3 (well, 4) kids, I find an inverse relationship between how much they need me and how able they are to give in response. 
Someday the time will come when my kids are grown and completely capable of giving me big, wonderful, expensive gifts of gratitude (massage, kids! Always massage!). But in those days, I would expect little. Dear ones, you don’t cause me near the angst or stress or tears as functional adults as you did this very week. 
Even now, what I really want is for them to take a nap. I would dance for joy if they each simply did want I asked. The gifts send a nice message, but how I yearn for compliance, to simply follow my commands
Hint, hint, self. Perhaps I need to invest slightly less energy stringing together elaborate phrases of love and adoration but put a bit more emphasis on those things God has asked and and requested of me: to live justly, love mercy and walk humbly. Oh, how that probably brings joy to God’s heart. We can offer him dandelion songs, but maybe he wants me to be a bit more intentional about loving my neighbor  Or not yelling at my kids. Or recognizing my bounty and giving some to those who need it more. 
It’s not to say that I should stop offering the handmade cards to God. He’ll treasure them, but not because of the greatness of the gift but rather the heart of the giver. 
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