Category: Uncategorized (Page 105 of 188)

It amazes me how seemingly random conversation – albeit interesting and enjoyable – comes back to haunt your later readings and then ponderings. Such is the occassion.
AG and I were chatting about her ordination interview and about questions that were raised to her regarding self-care*. Pastors join the guilty party with other service-oriented vocations like teachers and social workers when it comes to neglecting time to recharge the batteries. I’ve known some that are good at retreating on more of an annual basis, but when it comes to weekly Sabbath or daily downtime, it just doesn’t make the iCal. So I think it’s a wise question to be asking those embarking on such a servant-journey. It should also be added to the birthing classes book. Indulge me here…
On the whim of a craving for self-developing, reflective non-fiction, I picked up my copy of Writing Motherhood, a birthday gift from my sister. I had started it last fall but had not returned (some of the information seemed a bit trivial to keep my focus but, as I guessed, the introspective mood gave it some grace). I skimmed through the pre-read chapters for review and came across the chapter on the Time Out, an advocacy for the reader to make sure to take time… out… in order to stay fresh in both writing and mothering. Wise advice.
The chapter closes with a quote by Alice Domar and Henry Dreher (how more than one person can be credited for saying it is beyond me…): “Self-nurture is about much more than treating ourselves to a nice movie or pleasant massage once in a while. It is about reclaiming our right to pleasure and wholeness, and it requires us to make strong statements to loved ones about our limits, boundaries and needs.”
The word pleasure got my attention as I’m currently co-reading Eat, Pray, Love. Though I find the author to be increadibly selfish (my view is that you’re not allowed to choose not to be married any more just because you “don’t feel like it”), but she raises a good point in her section on visiting Italy that we Americans know little about true pleasure. We are indulgent and selfish, but we know little about unplugging the distractions long enough to know what brings us great joy. We’re well entertained, but lack an understanding of what recharges our batteries.
I’ve always been a strong advocate for Sabbath practices and, in the past, have worked hard to establish those boundaries. However, I have found great difficulty in defining fair expectations of downtime while mothering. I seem to dive from selfless giving (and wiping and cooking and rocking and packing lunches) straight into selfish pity mode. I don’t need is to cry about how tired I am, my frequent reaction… what I need is to find a why to recharge.
Often when H gets worked up (typically over something very insignificant) I ask him if he’d like to go lay down and rest for a while. He’ll go to his bed and lay down with Buckeye and Binky, the 2 things that make him happiest and help him relax. Somehow I need to figure out what it looks like for me to “rest for a while” at the same time 2 little creatures depend on me to make sure limbs and appendages stay attached. I don’t have the freedom to escape for coffee outings or shopping sprees every day, but surely there’s a time each week that I can build in a personal haven that brings energy to my mind and refreshes the love in my heart.

*There was more, and less than this in my conversation with AG, but it provided fodder for these later thoughts.

I’ve mentioned it before, but it encourages me how the work and effort of love transpires into feeling so privilaged to share your life with someone. I know, it soulds like an ode to marriage (which is its own privilage), but I’m talking about Church. Note the big “C”. The people.
One of “my kids” is expecting a baby in another month. How she’s old enough to be married with a job and have a baby is beyond me. I have trouble enough accepting the fact that I’m old enough to reproduce, let alone these souls who were precious to me only 5-7 years ago. And clearly they’re precious to me now, but it’s in a different context.
I sat with 2 of my other girls and the mom of a few of my boys and just caught up on life. I watched MK open onesies and blankets and fill the role of expectant, excited first-time mom. I was just overwhelmed with a sense of privilage. The mom told me her son is making some big “life decisions” (and good ones, at that!). I want to just call him up and tell him how proud I am. I want to wedge myself in and watch. I want to remove the barrier of distance and time and position myself beside all of them again. But the fact remains, no matter how hard it is for me to accept, that they are adults. Sheesh.
I spent a lot of hours, prayers and tears over these “kids.” Relationships are work, no doubt. But work is true of any good thing put on this earth, so it should be no surprise. Nonetheless, I’m grateful that it has been designed that after the effort of growing and learning with someone (because my experience as a youth director was a two-way avenue of learning), there comes a chance that you get to fester in your pride and pretend that the glory days still exist. You get to watch these little souls pledge their life to another and then buy them fun toys when they offer themselves to a new creation in the most selfless way possible. I feel privilaged that little ol’ me, one of many from their teenage days, was invited to peer in and celebrate their progress through life.
I’ve wrestled with the question of “why church?” before. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking to leave – the question is more theoretical than practical. Often times answers center around how a person feels when they leave on a Sunday morning – uplifted. Positve, encouraging. Challenged. Inspired. And those things are great.
But for me, it’s about the way God works through people. It’s about the way love shapes us and causes us to grow in the fruit of the Spirit. That by praying – and at times, crying – over others, the Spirit begins to develop love and joy in my soul. That by seeing their joy I’m reminded of the joys in my life. The challenges that come with loving and sharing life develop patience and self-control.
It can be tough to accept the work of God in your life, especially when invisible and audibly quiet. But He has given us His people, His Body. Often times, broken and poured out for one another. It’s the most beautiful thing imaginable.
It’s not exclusive, but boy is it a privilage, a beautiful gift.

A few weeks ago I felt like a prisoner trapped in my own home. My days with the children weren’t very enjoyable; or, rather, I was not an enjoyable person for my children.
But this morning we’re out in the Florida room playing, I still in my jammies, hot coffee in hand (again, me – not the kiddos), and the sun is already out. We’ve got a date with grandma at the mall later to use up an Old Navy 30% discount. Husband is due home early because of an early dismissal. The Bucks play this afternoon to begin their ascent to the championship.
It’s amazing what a little sunshine and warm weather can do for the soul. And perhaps a bit of healthy perspective.