I've been struggling with Roscoe. It seems like the "terrible 2s" have arrived early. More like the "terrible pre-18months," only the tantrums and fits seem to be directed mostly at me.
I just got off the phone with Mark about this, and he was encouraging (as encouraging as he can be, because this is not an easy phase for me)... But I thought I'd get my thoughts out, let you into my head, try to relinquish my stubborn "I-can-do-it-myself" childlikeness, and make myself open to suggestions and advice.
Roscoe has always had a tendency to pitch a fit. That started when he was tinier than tiny. But those fits used to be easily corrected (easily enough). He responded to our correction. Now, he's putting up really really big fights. His temper is...just right there....right under the surface ready to explode. And when he doesn't get what he wants, BOOM!!!!!!
Without giving examples, I'll say that 90% of the time, with words and facial expressions Mark can correct him and get the desired response. It isn't easy, but it works. The other 10% of the time that Mark handles it, it takes more effort.
I feel like the numbers are reversed for me. For whatever reason, my 90% is full of frustration and failure, where on my end I'm receiving abuse and anger from my own son...my 15 month old son. Often he gets angry at me and screams in my face multiple times, sometimes throwing a hit in there. Discipline doesn't seem to phase him, so it just turns into a seemingly endless cycle of whining, fussing, screaming, correction, wash, rinse, repeat.
I think what is the hardest for me is that all I feel that I do is pour love into him. I feed him. I play with him. I bathe him. I change his diapers. I wash his diapers. I tuck him in bed. He is my job, he's what I am employed to care for 24/7.
And he returns that with consistent tantrums and ungratefulness?
Another frustrating factor is that I generally stay calm and even-keeled. He's not feeding off my temper because I'm not releasing a temper.
So, I know that this is really something that all moms have to deal with. I've had multiple family members/friends tell me that when daddy comes home, the babes are angels. But God help the mother during the day, because those same babes are running around like demons.
So how do we deal with it? How do you keep control of your child when it seems like everything you do is a failure? How do you handle the emotional let down of wanting to receive love back from your child and the bulk of what you see returned to you is negativity?
Moms, speak...
Showing posts with label Being Transparent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Being Transparent. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Contradiction
I love being organized. I love it when everything has its right place. But....
I have such a hard time keeping up with any sort of cleaning routine while Mark is gone. (I think I've said this before.)
I have no clue why. Little things still bother me. Toys on the floor must be cleaned up. Dishes get washed. Counters wiped off. Bathroom stays clean.
But laundry? Ha! I can live an entire 2 week period out of a laundry basket (of clean clothes) in front of our closet. I don't mind if the opposite side of the bed has little piles of stuff on it. (Maybe it keeps me company at night?)
But when Mark is home.... Totally different story! I find myself getting frustrated at little piles in our room. "Babe, is this pile of laundry by your dresser clean or dirty?" "Would you mind finding a place for this? It's cluttering up our room" etc.
Um.... Hello, hypocrite!
What in the world? I'm trying to drum up an explanation for this...
I have such a hard time keeping up with any sort of cleaning routine while Mark is gone. (I think I've said this before.)
I have no clue why. Little things still bother me. Toys on the floor must be cleaned up. Dishes get washed. Counters wiped off. Bathroom stays clean.
But laundry? Ha! I can live an entire 2 week period out of a laundry basket (of clean clothes) in front of our closet. I don't mind if the opposite side of the bed has little piles of stuff on it. (Maybe it keeps me company at night?)
But when Mark is home.... Totally different story! I find myself getting frustrated at little piles in our room. "Babe, is this pile of laundry by your dresser clean or dirty?" "Would you mind finding a place for this? It's cluttering up our room" etc.
Um.... Hello, hypocrite!
What in the world? I'm trying to drum up an explanation for this...
Thursday, February 9, 2012
predicaments
I knew this day would come. And I've said that when it did, I would stick to my guns.
Because there is one way--and ONLY one way--for the toilet paper to hang. Flap over front, not behind.
But when you have an exploring baby, the logistics of the proper way for hanging toilet paper are challenged. See, if the flap hangs behind (the improper way), a child can spin the toilet paper roll all he wants without making a pile of toilet paper on the floor. But when the roll is positioned properly, with the flap over front, any spinning will cause disaster.
Generally speaking, the bathroom door stays closed. Because I like to sit down and blog and drink coffee and check out pinterest and other sort of time wasting things in the morning, rather than follow roscoe all over the house to make sure he's not getting into anything. So, close doors, put protectors in outlets, and let him go. He goes between his room, the living room, and the kitchen. So the toilet paper isn't an issue until I'm getting ready.
But keeping him out of the bathroom when I'm getting ready is like trying to catch and contain a waterfall in a water bottle. It's impossible. (Unless I close the door, which I won't do because then I can't hear what he's doing.) So I run back and forth between him and all sorts of things I don't want him touching--the toilet, trashcan, plunger, toilet brush, toilet paper roll--all while trying to apply makeup or fix my hair.
All that frustration, you ask, and you won't just turn the toilet paper around?
No, no I won't.
Because there is one way--and ONLY one way--for the toilet paper to hang. Flap over front, not behind.
 |
| Correct |
 |
| Incorrect |
But when you have an exploring baby, the logistics of the proper way for hanging toilet paper are challenged. See, if the flap hangs behind (the improper way), a child can spin the toilet paper roll all he wants without making a pile of toilet paper on the floor. But when the roll is positioned properly, with the flap over front, any spinning will cause disaster.
Generally speaking, the bathroom door stays closed. Because I like to sit down and blog and drink coffee and check out pinterest and other sort of time wasting things in the morning, rather than follow roscoe all over the house to make sure he's not getting into anything. So, close doors, put protectors in outlets, and let him go. He goes between his room, the living room, and the kitchen. So the toilet paper isn't an issue until I'm getting ready.
But keeping him out of the bathroom when I'm getting ready is like trying to catch and contain a waterfall in a water bottle. It's impossible. (Unless I close the door, which I won't do because then I can't hear what he's doing.) So I run back and forth between him and all sorts of things I don't want him touching--the toilet, trashcan, plunger, toilet brush, toilet paper roll--all while trying to apply makeup or fix my hair.
All that frustration, you ask, and you won't just turn the toilet paper around?
No, no I won't.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
A slow discovery
There has been a lot coming to the surface lately about my mind/heart. And I'm realizing how ugly it really is.
Just over 3 years ago (has it really only been that long?) when Mark and I started attending North Hills Community Church, we were hearing all this talk about how each one of us is a severely messed up individual. That none of us are above the need for God's grace, or that none of us are good enough to measure up to God's standard of righteousness. And this was coming at me after a lifetime of believing that I had to follow a set of rules or look/act a certain way--THAT determined my righteous standing with God.
Then that world crumbled when I realized that the WHOLE POINT of Christ coming to die for me was to free me from that Pharisaical mentality. It was a hard transition, but I was eager and willing to learn more. The problem was that I didn't see how bad I was. One of the first nights Mark and I attended North Hills, we went over to my brother Andy's house afterwards (who knew, 3 years later, that that would have grown into such a vital community every Sunday night.) As we sat out on the porch with Andy and Beth, they were revealing themselves to us in the middle of their "crisis," as infidelity had manifested itself in their marriage. They both hit rock bottom, desperately realizing their need for God's grace. I looked at Andy and said something to the effect of "That's great and all, but I haven't done anything like that. I'm a good person."
I'm a good person. I don't see my need for God's grace.
As I remember those words now I cringe. No one is righteous. My best attempts at righteousness in the past would be like presenting Christ with a gift of bloody tampons.
But still, I knew those things in my head but couldn't (or wouldn't) dig deep enough in my heart to find out how filthy I was.
Through many circumstances and lots of begging God to show me my messed up-ness, He has done just that. A lot. In the past month specifically. I'm learning that sinfulness doesn't just manifest itself in the externals. Just to give 1 example: I struggle with issues of anxiety. If Mark is away from home for a weekend and I send him a text at 9 pm and hear nothing back until midnight, those 3 hours are spent drudging up "worst case scenarios" about what has happened to him. Instead of stopping it when it starts and choosing to think on what I know is true (God controls it all, even if the outcome is sorrowful, so in that promise, I can rejoice), many times I feed those anxious thoughts and end up in almost full-blown, burst into tears hysterics... Over a hypothetical situation! Yes, it's always a possibility that one of those scenarios could come to pass (let's face it, Mark's civilian and military jobs don't always include him doing the safest things), but my choosing to think on the wrong thing is a sin. Not resting in God is a sin. Putting my faith in anything other than Him is a sin. And I do this. Every. Day.
Yesterday my facebook status said "resting in the arms of the one who controls all. trusting, resting."
Mark and I have been preparing ourselves for him to be away from home for a decent period of time. A week from right now he's supposed to be gone. Friday he got an email that the trip was/is up in the air. He was supposed to find out Monday whether he was going or not. All he found out was that he would find out Tuesday (today), so we're preparing ourselves to find out if he's going to find out today or tomorrow or maybe next week when I'm on my way to take him to his flight.
I'm not gonna lie: one of the things I've hated most about the way things are handled in the military is the "on again off again" scheduling. It's just the way things are. I understand that. But, oh, does it toy with a girl's emotions. Despite my tendencies toward anxiety, I can handle it if Mark's going to be gone for 2 weeks, 1 month, 6 weeks, 2 months.... Whatever! But just give me warning so I have time to put on my big girl panties and deal with it. But this "you're going".... "oh wait, just kidding"..... "oh did we say you weren't going? Because you are"......... "but not really" thing really gets under my skin.
But I'm thankful that this time, I can honestly say that God has given me just the right amount of grace to accept this. I realize, for the first time, that if Mark has to go, God is in control. And he is good. And if Mark gets to stay home, God is in control. And he is good.
So beautiful and refreshing that God doesn't change when I am characterized by fickleness. Whether (perceived) good or bad things come,
He. Is. Good.
Here's the song I've been claiming for the past couple days. Every word is my prayer. May God's name be great.
Just over 3 years ago (has it really only been that long?) when Mark and I started attending North Hills Community Church, we were hearing all this talk about how each one of us is a severely messed up individual. That none of us are above the need for God's grace, or that none of us are good enough to measure up to God's standard of righteousness. And this was coming at me after a lifetime of believing that I had to follow a set of rules or look/act a certain way--THAT determined my righteous standing with God.
Then that world crumbled when I realized that the WHOLE POINT of Christ coming to die for me was to free me from that Pharisaical mentality. It was a hard transition, but I was eager and willing to learn more. The problem was that I didn't see how bad I was. One of the first nights Mark and I attended North Hills, we went over to my brother Andy's house afterwards (who knew, 3 years later, that that would have grown into such a vital community every Sunday night.) As we sat out on the porch with Andy and Beth, they were revealing themselves to us in the middle of their "crisis," as infidelity had manifested itself in their marriage. They both hit rock bottom, desperately realizing their need for God's grace. I looked at Andy and said something to the effect of "That's great and all, but I haven't done anything like that. I'm a good person."
I'm a good person. I don't see my need for God's grace.
As I remember those words now I cringe. No one is righteous. My best attempts at righteousness in the past would be like presenting Christ with a gift of bloody tampons.
But still, I knew those things in my head but couldn't (or wouldn't) dig deep enough in my heart to find out how filthy I was.
Through many circumstances and lots of begging God to show me my messed up-ness, He has done just that. A lot. In the past month specifically. I'm learning that sinfulness doesn't just manifest itself in the externals. Just to give 1 example: I struggle with issues of anxiety. If Mark is away from home for a weekend and I send him a text at 9 pm and hear nothing back until midnight, those 3 hours are spent drudging up "worst case scenarios" about what has happened to him. Instead of stopping it when it starts and choosing to think on what I know is true (God controls it all, even if the outcome is sorrowful, so in that promise, I can rejoice), many times I feed those anxious thoughts and end up in almost full-blown, burst into tears hysterics... Over a hypothetical situation! Yes, it's always a possibility that one of those scenarios could come to pass (let's face it, Mark's civilian and military jobs don't always include him doing the safest things), but my choosing to think on the wrong thing is a sin. Not resting in God is a sin. Putting my faith in anything other than Him is a sin. And I do this. Every. Day.
Yesterday my facebook status said "resting in the arms of the one who controls all. trusting, resting."
Mark and I have been preparing ourselves for him to be away from home for a decent period of time. A week from right now he's supposed to be gone. Friday he got an email that the trip was/is up in the air. He was supposed to find out Monday whether he was going or not. All he found out was that he would find out Tuesday (today), so we're preparing ourselves to find out if he's going to find out today or tomorrow or maybe next week when I'm on my way to take him to his flight.
I'm not gonna lie: one of the things I've hated most about the way things are handled in the military is the "on again off again" scheduling. It's just the way things are. I understand that. But, oh, does it toy with a girl's emotions. Despite my tendencies toward anxiety, I can handle it if Mark's going to be gone for 2 weeks, 1 month, 6 weeks, 2 months.... Whatever! But just give me warning so I have time to put on my big girl panties and deal with it. But this "you're going".... "oh wait, just kidding"..... "oh did we say you weren't going? Because you are"......... "but not really" thing really gets under my skin.
But I'm thankful that this time, I can honestly say that God has given me just the right amount of grace to accept this. I realize, for the first time, that if Mark has to go, God is in control. And he is good. And if Mark gets to stay home, God is in control. And he is good.
So beautiful and refreshing that God doesn't change when I am characterized by fickleness. Whether (perceived) good or bad things come,
He. Is. Good.
Here's the song I've been claiming for the past couple days. Every word is my prayer. May God's name be great.
Monday, January 2, 2012
the scandal of breastfeeding (in public)
Disclaimer: a post about breastfeeding. This post may contain words such as breast and boob, and may be slightly more explicit and candid than my other posts. If that offends you, don't read it. If you choose to read and are still offended, I don't care (you chose to read it) ;).
Recently, a breastfeeding mother had to feed her child in public. Being in the middle of a Target trip, she decided to find a corner of the store to sit in to nurse. I'm not sure how long she had been there, but she was asked by management to find a room or private place to nurse her child. (I guess sitting down in the corner of the store wasn't private enough.)
If you have the time, this satire related to the event is hilarious.
Here are my thoughts on the "breastfeeding in public" debate. I usually stick to things a little more platonic here at "musings of a bean," but I just can't be quiet on this one. Perhaps because it hits close to home for me.
*gasp!* Roscoe is almost 11 months old and I'm still breastfeeding him?!?! Yes. Do I get skepticism and advice from people on that? Yes. (Which I find odd.... I mean, he's a baby...) My favorite was the advice from the man who said (right after Roscoe was born) that I should nurse him for 3 months and then switch to formula. (But because this post is more directly related to the recent "scandal" of the woman breastfeeding in public, I won't go into the difference between breastmilk and formula. Look it up (or click the links).) Do I have plans to wean Roscoe because he's "getting to old" for this? No.
I am nursing Roscoe still for a few reasons. The primary reason is that I want him to have breastmilk as the primary part of his nutrition for at least the 1st year of his life. The nutrients found in breast milk are so vital for a baby's brain development. And it builds a heck of an immune system. I am also mindful of the fact that all of the "minor inconveniences" of breastfeeding (the skepticism from others, nursing in public, being "tied" to a baby, nursing bras, teething, etc.) are not important or powerful enough to force me or coerce me to stop. Thirdly, it's a bond. There's no one else on the earth that can have the bond that I have with Roscoe in this respect. Not to mention it's earned. I puked every day for the first trimester of carrying him, had heartburn and pains, and went through a grueling 23 hours of back labor trying to get him out into the world. And now I want to enjoy a "nursing bond" with him? You're darn right I do. And when Mark has to go on a 7 week trip at the end of this month for the military, this momma is going to want to be nursing her baby for comfort, whether he's ready to be weaned or not.
Now, I still nurse. Generally speaking I like to view that as my business. And even though my views about it are pretty strong, I don't flaunt it. But until Roscoe was about 7 months old, I had no problems nursing in public, with a blanket draped over his head. I never made it a point to flash anyone, and if that happened, it was pure accident. But once he hit 7 months, he became almost impossible to nurse decently. A blanket over his head? Forget it. Not to mention that he gets distracted. So I just find it easiest to choose a room to nurse him in by myself. If I'm in a room of just females, I will nurse publicly with no problems. But I really do try to be mindful of the men. However, if my son were to need to nurse and I couldn't accommodate any other way than just nursing him then and there, I would hope the men/people who felt uncomfortable would be decent enough to leave or just not stare.
But let's talk about the fact that there are dozens of women YOU probably see EVERY day who are sexually showing off their breasts with extremely revealing outfits. Where's the outcry about that? Even if a mother is trying to discreetly nurse her child in the corner of a store, and accidentally flashes someone because she can't keep her wriggly child contained under a blanket, why is that so much worse than the girls walking around with both boobs hanging out of their clothes? Are we really such a twisted culture that we view breastfeeding as an alternative use of a sexual body part?
Why does it seem so hard for our culture to accept the multi-functional purposes of breasts? God made them that way. Yes, sexually, but for so much more than that. He designed them to give nourishment to children. So much nourishment that those children can live the first months of their life solely on breastmilk. He designed a lot of our body parts to multi-task. For example, lips. You use your lips to eat, talk, kiss, smile, etc.
I just find it frustrating because I would probably have been just as uncomfortable or upset by a breastfeeding mother "flashing me" until I was given Roscoe. I wish I had learned more about it before experiencing it. Before the criticism, the "when are you going to stop nursing him?" questions, the stares, the whispers. We need to teach our children and culture that breastfeeding mothers (almost all of them) aren't trying to be in-your-face about what they're doing. Well, except for the "Nurse-In" at Target following this incident. That was kind of in-your-face, but they asked for it. I think what a lot of us mothers want is more support for the fact that we're doing what is natural and best for our children. If it makes you uncomfortable that this "sexual" body part is being used in such a "natural" way, then you need to reexamine your view of the female body.
Recently, a breastfeeding mother had to feed her child in public. Being in the middle of a Target trip, she decided to find a corner of the store to sit in to nurse. I'm not sure how long she had been there, but she was asked by management to find a room or private place to nurse her child. (I guess sitting down in the corner of the store wasn't private enough.)
If you have the time, this satire related to the event is hilarious.
Here are my thoughts on the "breastfeeding in public" debate. I usually stick to things a little more platonic here at "musings of a bean," but I just can't be quiet on this one. Perhaps because it hits close to home for me.
*gasp!* Roscoe is almost 11 months old and I'm still breastfeeding him?!?! Yes. Do I get skepticism and advice from people on that? Yes. (Which I find odd.... I mean, he's a baby...) My favorite was the advice from the man who said (right after Roscoe was born) that I should nurse him for 3 months and then switch to formula. (But because this post is more directly related to the recent "scandal" of the woman breastfeeding in public, I won't go into the difference between breastmilk and formula. Look it up (or click the links).) Do I have plans to wean Roscoe because he's "getting to old" for this? No.
I am nursing Roscoe still for a few reasons. The primary reason is that I want him to have breastmilk as the primary part of his nutrition for at least the 1st year of his life. The nutrients found in breast milk are so vital for a baby's brain development. And it builds a heck of an immune system. I am also mindful of the fact that all of the "minor inconveniences" of breastfeeding (the skepticism from others, nursing in public, being "tied" to a baby, nursing bras, teething, etc.) are not important or powerful enough to force me or coerce me to stop. Thirdly, it's a bond. There's no one else on the earth that can have the bond that I have with Roscoe in this respect. Not to mention it's earned. I puked every day for the first trimester of carrying him, had heartburn and pains, and went through a grueling 23 hours of back labor trying to get him out into the world. And now I want to enjoy a "nursing bond" with him? You're darn right I do. And when Mark has to go on a 7 week trip at the end of this month for the military, this momma is going to want to be nursing her baby for comfort, whether he's ready to be weaned or not.
Now, I still nurse. Generally speaking I like to view that as my business. And even though my views about it are pretty strong, I don't flaunt it. But until Roscoe was about 7 months old, I had no problems nursing in public, with a blanket draped over his head. I never made it a point to flash anyone, and if that happened, it was pure accident. But once he hit 7 months, he became almost impossible to nurse decently. A blanket over his head? Forget it. Not to mention that he gets distracted. So I just find it easiest to choose a room to nurse him in by myself. If I'm in a room of just females, I will nurse publicly with no problems. But I really do try to be mindful of the men. However, if my son were to need to nurse and I couldn't accommodate any other way than just nursing him then and there, I would hope the men/people who felt uncomfortable would be decent enough to leave or just not stare.
But let's talk about the fact that there are dozens of women YOU probably see EVERY day who are sexually showing off their breasts with extremely revealing outfits. Where's the outcry about that? Even if a mother is trying to discreetly nurse her child in the corner of a store, and accidentally flashes someone because she can't keep her wriggly child contained under a blanket, why is that so much worse than the girls walking around with both boobs hanging out of their clothes? Are we really such a twisted culture that we view breastfeeding as an alternative use of a sexual body part?
Why does it seem so hard for our culture to accept the multi-functional purposes of breasts? God made them that way. Yes, sexually, but for so much more than that. He designed them to give nourishment to children. So much nourishment that those children can live the first months of their life solely on breastmilk. He designed a lot of our body parts to multi-task. For example, lips. You use your lips to eat, talk, kiss, smile, etc.
I just find it frustrating because I would probably have been just as uncomfortable or upset by a breastfeeding mother "flashing me" until I was given Roscoe. I wish I had learned more about it before experiencing it. Before the criticism, the "when are you going to stop nursing him?" questions, the stares, the whispers. We need to teach our children and culture that breastfeeding mothers (almost all of them) aren't trying to be in-your-face about what they're doing. Well, except for the "Nurse-In" at Target following this incident. That was kind of in-your-face, but they asked for it. I think what a lot of us mothers want is more support for the fact that we're doing what is natural and best for our children. If it makes you uncomfortable that this "sexual" body part is being used in such a "natural" way, then you need to reexamine your view of the female body.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
a glance into one of our struggles
At the beginning of the month, I referenced a tough time we've been going through in this post. Honestly, I never imagined that I'd be able to post details about it so soon. But for the time being, that trial is over, so I'd like to fill you in and give praise to God for all of it--the good and bad.
There may be a moment or two as you're reading where you will begin to feel sorry for us, but please realize that's not my goal. If I were wanting to manipulate you and tug on your heartstrings, I would write books, not an "about my life" blog.
It's hard to say exactly when our financial difficulties started. Maybe back when we got married. There has yet to be a time in our 3+ years of marriage that we weren't wondering how we would pay the next bill. Even through the times that we both had jobs (Mark had 2...technically 3), it just never seemed to be enough, despite our best efforts.
That difficulty hit a new level a month or 2 after Roscoe was born. Mark was owed the 2nd half of his enlistment bonus, and we received word that the paperwork had been submitted and the bonus was on its way--we should see in within the next week. So, given that word, we put his 4runner in the shop for some much needed work. Knowing we'd have the money within the week, we charged it (this was our first credit card purchase. We hadn't owned one before this because we didn't want to get caught up in debt. But once we had a baby, we figured it'd be smart to have one for the emergency fallback).
Mark received an email shortly after that telling him that the status of his bonus was on hold because it needed to be reviewed. If you remember, way back in January when I started this blog, Mark was in PA reclassing for the sake of his unit. (Here's a post to jog your memory.) He agreed to do that as long as it didn't mess up his bonus. Well, sparing a lot of details, it did mess up his bonus. So much so that in the span of 3 days, we went from expecting the other half of his bonus within a week to not only not receiving it, but also having to pay back the other half he'd received years ago. They were saying his reclassing was a "breech of contract." I don't feel it necessary to give the amount on the internet, but let's just say it was enough to make me want to carve out my own cave in the mountains and hide forever.
At the same time, we hit a spell of reduced income that we thought might only last a month or two. Well, it's lasted up to the present.
So for the past 8+ months, though we've always felt a struggle financially, we've been suffocating. It was like every time we almost got up for air, we got 1 glorious second to gasp it in and then we were fighting again. We tried to adopt a new posture through it, not one of "help us out here God!" but "help us praise you now!" That was so difficult. But we learned that what money we have is not ours anyway. What God has given us is his already. It made the situation easier to swallow because I felt not attacked by God, but like he was suffering through right beside us.
But let me tell you on a shallow level, it's been hard. Pinterest, for example. Not having any extra money definitely made me feel a desire to craft and repurpose. But I always needed something: a glue gun, mod podge, scrapbook paper, buttons, fabric. This was during the time that I was going through the house and old coats and pockets to see what I could add to our change jar so I could go get dinner. (Remember, that's not me manipulating you, it's just the facts.) Going into the gas station with $4 in quarters to get some gas, stuff like that.
BUT... Our power was never shut off, neither was our water (though both came close). Our mortgage was being paid. We were eating. It may have been the poor man's meals, but we were eating. God was using people and miracles on a daily basis to provide us with what we needed to make it through that day...just that one. Never days in advance. One day at a time. We would go to bed uncertain of what the next day would hold, and when we got up, we were scared, but simultaneously comforted by the fact that in one hand God held us, and in his other he sifted through what he would allow us to face.
(If you're currently thinking, Honey, this is why you hate spending money, yes. You're right. That's a big part of it. But I couldn't hint to it in that post now, could I?) :)
So back to the bonus. Mark had been working on it, trying to request that at the very least, we not be forced to pay back the bonus he'd already received, even if it meant the other half would still be gone forever. We had people working for us, trying the best that they could to accommodate these requests. But we were told that there was a lot of paperwork going through the hands of the men who would be deciding these matters, so we shouldn't expect to hear anything about the status of it until September 2012.
Fast forward to this past Friday. If you're still with me, hang tight. This is the part where my praise hands go up in the air. We had been able to budget a small amount for family and people whose names we had drawn for Christmas. But we didn't have the money til Friday. Hence the reason I had to do all the shopping blitz-style. Mark offered to take Roscoe from me during his lunch so that I could get some things accomplished faster and with ease (isn't my man great?). On the way back to pick up Roscoe, I called the bank account to see if there was enough money in there for me to get lunch. I really didn't want to dip into the Christmas money for that, but I was hungry. As my brain interpreted the numbers, what I heard the automated voice on the other end say was "Your available balance is 'not enough for you to get lunch'" I was dejectedly taking the phone away from my ear when I heard the voice continue "a direct deposit of..." (imagine my eyes growing in confusion when I heard this) "a direct deposit of 'more money than your brain can register at this moment' will be deposited on Wednesday, December 28th."
I about wrecked. I was 4 minutes away from picking up Roscoe from Mark, and I was pretty sure I had just heard that pretend person (who had mocked me time and time again) tell me in an indirect, but very vivid way, that Mark's bonus was going to be deposited in our account. Let me tell you, that was the longest 4 minute ride of my life. I felt as if every pore in my body was exuding excitement so quickly that I was going to explode like a volcano. But I was driving so I knew I couldn't do that. And I had to wait til I could see Mark's reaction face-to-face. I arrived and held the phone up to Mark's ear. He started to pull away (as if to say, "don't remind me what our balance is"), but I started doing a happy dance and held up a finger so he knew to keep listening. His eyes repeatedly went through cyles of confusion, wonder, excitement, disbelief, and relief. We both stood there and kissed and hugged (and kissed and hugged Roscoe, who had no clue what was going on). Once I came back down to the earth for long enough to realize I still had Christmas shopping to do, I peeled myself away from Mark and sent him happily back into work.
So, this morning, we paid every bill. Including paying off our credit card. Just writing that makes me tear up. All along the way, God's been taking care of us. Sometimes I kept the thermostat set a bit lower than normal and bundled up me and Roscoe just to try to make a difference. Sometimes we ate ramen for meals multiple nights in a row. Sometimes I was driving on an empty gas tank not certain how much further I could go. But through it all, as tough as it was, God's had us.
I'm not saying that we'll never again encounter financial struggles. It could very well be that this will be a constant struggle all our lives. If that's the case, we just hope to be able to say that in good times and bad, we had our hands up in praise to the one who orchestrated every bit of it.
There may be a moment or two as you're reading where you will begin to feel sorry for us, but please realize that's not my goal. If I were wanting to manipulate you and tug on your heartstrings, I would write books, not an "about my life" blog.
It's hard to say exactly when our financial difficulties started. Maybe back when we got married. There has yet to be a time in our 3+ years of marriage that we weren't wondering how we would pay the next bill. Even through the times that we both had jobs (Mark had 2...technically 3), it just never seemed to be enough, despite our best efforts.
That difficulty hit a new level a month or 2 after Roscoe was born. Mark was owed the 2nd half of his enlistment bonus, and we received word that the paperwork had been submitted and the bonus was on its way--we should see in within the next week. So, given that word, we put his 4runner in the shop for some much needed work. Knowing we'd have the money within the week, we charged it (this was our first credit card purchase. We hadn't owned one before this because we didn't want to get caught up in debt. But once we had a baby, we figured it'd be smart to have one for the emergency fallback).
Mark received an email shortly after that telling him that the status of his bonus was on hold because it needed to be reviewed. If you remember, way back in January when I started this blog, Mark was in PA reclassing for the sake of his unit. (Here's a post to jog your memory.) He agreed to do that as long as it didn't mess up his bonus. Well, sparing a lot of details, it did mess up his bonus. So much so that in the span of 3 days, we went from expecting the other half of his bonus within a week to not only not receiving it, but also having to pay back the other half he'd received years ago. They were saying his reclassing was a "breech of contract." I don't feel it necessary to give the amount on the internet, but let's just say it was enough to make me want to carve out my own cave in the mountains and hide forever.
At the same time, we hit a spell of reduced income that we thought might only last a month or two. Well, it's lasted up to the present.
So for the past 8+ months, though we've always felt a struggle financially, we've been suffocating. It was like every time we almost got up for air, we got 1 glorious second to gasp it in and then we were fighting again. We tried to adopt a new posture through it, not one of "help us out here God!" but "help us praise you now!" That was so difficult. But we learned that what money we have is not ours anyway. What God has given us is his already. It made the situation easier to swallow because I felt not attacked by God, but like he was suffering through right beside us.
But let me tell you on a shallow level, it's been hard. Pinterest, for example. Not having any extra money definitely made me feel a desire to craft and repurpose. But I always needed something: a glue gun, mod podge, scrapbook paper, buttons, fabric. This was during the time that I was going through the house and old coats and pockets to see what I could add to our change jar so I could go get dinner. (Remember, that's not me manipulating you, it's just the facts.) Going into the gas station with $4 in quarters to get some gas, stuff like that.
BUT... Our power was never shut off, neither was our water (though both came close). Our mortgage was being paid. We were eating. It may have been the poor man's meals, but we were eating. God was using people and miracles on a daily basis to provide us with what we needed to make it through that day...just that one. Never days in advance. One day at a time. We would go to bed uncertain of what the next day would hold, and when we got up, we were scared, but simultaneously comforted by the fact that in one hand God held us, and in his other he sifted through what he would allow us to face.
(If you're currently thinking, Honey, this is why you hate spending money, yes. You're right. That's a big part of it. But I couldn't hint to it in that post now, could I?) :)
So back to the bonus. Mark had been working on it, trying to request that at the very least, we not be forced to pay back the bonus he'd already received, even if it meant the other half would still be gone forever. We had people working for us, trying the best that they could to accommodate these requests. But we were told that there was a lot of paperwork going through the hands of the men who would be deciding these matters, so we shouldn't expect to hear anything about the status of it until September 2012.
Fast forward to this past Friday. If you're still with me, hang tight. This is the part where my praise hands go up in the air. We had been able to budget a small amount for family and people whose names we had drawn for Christmas. But we didn't have the money til Friday. Hence the reason I had to do all the shopping blitz-style. Mark offered to take Roscoe from me during his lunch so that I could get some things accomplished faster and with ease (isn't my man great?). On the way back to pick up Roscoe, I called the bank account to see if there was enough money in there for me to get lunch. I really didn't want to dip into the Christmas money for that, but I was hungry. As my brain interpreted the numbers, what I heard the automated voice on the other end say was "Your available balance is 'not enough for you to get lunch'" I was dejectedly taking the phone away from my ear when I heard the voice continue "a direct deposit of..." (imagine my eyes growing in confusion when I heard this) "a direct deposit of 'more money than your brain can register at this moment' will be deposited on Wednesday, December 28th."
I about wrecked. I was 4 minutes away from picking up Roscoe from Mark, and I was pretty sure I had just heard that pretend person (who had mocked me time and time again) tell me in an indirect, but very vivid way, that Mark's bonus was going to be deposited in our account. Let me tell you, that was the longest 4 minute ride of my life. I felt as if every pore in my body was exuding excitement so quickly that I was going to explode like a volcano. But I was driving so I knew I couldn't do that. And I had to wait til I could see Mark's reaction face-to-face. I arrived and held the phone up to Mark's ear. He started to pull away (as if to say, "don't remind me what our balance is"), but I started doing a happy dance and held up a finger so he knew to keep listening. His eyes repeatedly went through cyles of confusion, wonder, excitement, disbelief, and relief. We both stood there and kissed and hugged (and kissed and hugged Roscoe, who had no clue what was going on). Once I came back down to the earth for long enough to realize I still had Christmas shopping to do, I peeled myself away from Mark and sent him happily back into work.
So, this morning, we paid every bill. Including paying off our credit card. Just writing that makes me tear up. All along the way, God's been taking care of us. Sometimes I kept the thermostat set a bit lower than normal and bundled up me and Roscoe just to try to make a difference. Sometimes we ate ramen for meals multiple nights in a row. Sometimes I was driving on an empty gas tank not certain how much further I could go. But through it all, as tough as it was, God's had us.
I'm not saying that we'll never again encounter financial struggles. It could very well be that this will be a constant struggle all our lives. If that's the case, we just hope to be able to say that in good times and bad, we had our hands up in praise to the one who orchestrated every bit of it.
Friday, December 23, 2011
do i have to spend it?
This one's for the stay at home mommies out there, or the stay at home daddies, or the stay at home person, or in general anyone who considers him/herself a dependent, vegging off someone else's income.
I HATE spending money. I've always been somewhat frugal and cautious with my spending (except when I was growing up and I got a $5 allowance every Saturday--which I immediately spent on coke and candy at the gas station on the way to visit grandmommy and granddaddy). But I've noticed a severe hatred of spending money that has developed. I don't know when it developed. It just did. And money? I hate spending it. (Did you catch that?) Even on necessary things, like, oh say..... gas and food. You know, things you have to have. I've even caught myself rationing out toiletries because I refused to have to go buy more (contact solution, shampoo, etc) too soon.
Well, today I spent more than I have in the past 2 months combined (don't get alarmed, that's really not that much). There was Christmas shopping on multiple levels: gifts, food for get-togethers, uh....ok, maybe only 2 levels. Mark had given me a certain amount last night for this reason. And I used it. Because it's money. And you spend money. But after I got home from the grocery store tonight I was somewhat depressed at the amount I had spent.
I confessed to Mark my severe hatred of money-spending and asked if maybe it was a fault of mine. I don't hoard. If it needs to be spent, spend. I got that. But not wanting to spend money on groceries? That's wrong, isn't it? Or....
He very quickly responded "It's because you're not working."
*cricket*
*crickets*
*chirp, chirp*
Wow. That was easy. I mean, it makes complete sense once I think about it. I'm living off someone else's income. If that isn't the whole reason I hate spending, it's at least got to be part of it. Ever since I started working in high school, I didn't stop until after Roscoe got here. Working and earning money was just part of life, part of pulling my own load.
Has this been a struggle for any other moms? What did you do to get over it? (Or did you? Oh, please, please tell me you did.)
I HATE spending money. I've always been somewhat frugal and cautious with my spending (except when I was growing up and I got a $5 allowance every Saturday--which I immediately spent on coke and candy at the gas station on the way to visit grandmommy and granddaddy). But I've noticed a severe hatred of spending money that has developed. I don't know when it developed. It just did. And money? I hate spending it. (Did you catch that?) Even on necessary things, like, oh say..... gas and food. You know, things you have to have. I've even caught myself rationing out toiletries because I refused to have to go buy more (contact solution, shampoo, etc) too soon.
Well, today I spent more than I have in the past 2 months combined (don't get alarmed, that's really not that much). There was Christmas shopping on multiple levels: gifts, food for get-togethers, uh....ok, maybe only 2 levels. Mark had given me a certain amount last night for this reason. And I used it. Because it's money. And you spend money. But after I got home from the grocery store tonight I was somewhat depressed at the amount I had spent.
I confessed to Mark my severe hatred of money-spending and asked if maybe it was a fault of mine. I don't hoard. If it needs to be spent, spend. I got that. But not wanting to spend money on groceries? That's wrong, isn't it? Or....
He very quickly responded "It's because you're not working."
*cricket*
*crickets*
*chirp, chirp*
Wow. That was easy. I mean, it makes complete sense once I think about it. I'm living off someone else's income. If that isn't the whole reason I hate spending, it's at least got to be part of it. Ever since I started working in high school, I didn't stop until after Roscoe got here. Working and earning money was just part of life, part of pulling my own load.
Has this been a struggle for any other moms? What did you do to get over it? (Or did you? Oh, please, please tell me you did.)
Monday, October 10, 2011
it doesn't have to feel important
With that last post and the shut-down of my facebook, I made it appear as if I'd be blogging every day, keeping everyone up to date on the daily pictures of Roscoe and all the exciting tidbits of our days together.
Welllll, at the moment it's not that exciting. I stay busy with little things throughout the day and making time to blog takes effort. When there's not much exciting going on, I find blogging difficult and resultingly unnecessary. The day through my eyes goes something like: wake up, feed, change, play, nap, feed, change, clean, nap, feed, errands, change, nap, cook, feed, put to bed.
I find it ironic that I used to be the first to defend the mother who was feeling like she didn't have an important job/contribution. Of course you do!!! Are you kidding?! You've got the most important AND most challenging job in the world! Fast forward a decade or so and I would have never guessed that I should have been preaching to myself.
Please don't misunderstand, I love our little Roscoe Porter more than my feeble words can communicate. I just never expected to struggle on a daily basis with the mundane-ness of stay-at-home-motherhood. But I'm not delirious enough to think that this struggle will get easier once I can communicate with Roscoe (I've got friends and family ahead of me as proof that that's not true!) However, the day in/day out caring for a baby who can't live without my help definitely doesn't FEEL like anything important. I keep reminding myself that this everyday life is missional, kingdom work. But I feel things so deeply, throw myself so fully into everything I do, that I want the important things to FEEL like they're important. So if I don't get that vibe, the struggle begins.
This is why I'm thankful that our faith is not based on our feelings. They're so misleading and fickle. Still training myself daily to place my hope and identity in Christ. But that's soooo much easier said than done.
Welllll, at the moment it's not that exciting. I stay busy with little things throughout the day and making time to blog takes effort. When there's not much exciting going on, I find blogging difficult and resultingly unnecessary. The day through my eyes goes something like: wake up, feed, change, play, nap, feed, change, clean, nap, feed, errands, change, nap, cook, feed, put to bed.
I find it ironic that I used to be the first to defend the mother who was feeling like she didn't have an important job/contribution. Of course you do!!! Are you kidding?! You've got the most important AND most challenging job in the world! Fast forward a decade or so and I would have never guessed that I should have been preaching to myself.
Please don't misunderstand, I love our little Roscoe Porter more than my feeble words can communicate. I just never expected to struggle on a daily basis with the mundane-ness of stay-at-home-motherhood. But I'm not delirious enough to think that this struggle will get easier once I can communicate with Roscoe (I've got friends and family ahead of me as proof that that's not true!) However, the day in/day out caring for a baby who can't live without my help definitely doesn't FEEL like anything important. I keep reminding myself that this everyday life is missional, kingdom work. But I feel things so deeply, throw myself so fully into everything I do, that I want the important things to FEEL like they're important. So if I don't get that vibe, the struggle begins.
This is why I'm thankful that our faith is not based on our feelings. They're so misleading and fickle. Still training myself daily to place my hope and identity in Christ. But that's soooo much easier said than done.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
finding contentment
I struggle with the balance between transparency and complaining. I sincerely don't want to come across as a martyr or complainer in posts where I'm trying to be open. So with that disclaimer, I'll share something that I've been dealing with for the past month or so. It is closely related to the post I made recently about being "tied down" to home.
Mark and I were blessed with the ability to buy a house in January 2010. This house is about 890 sq ft, 3 bed, 1 bath. As you can probably imagine, fitting 3 bedrooms, 1 bathroom, a kitchen and a living room in 890 sq ft makes things a little cramped. Our room fits our bed (a king sized Mark got for FREE before we met), 2 nightstands, and his dresser. My dresser is in Roscoe's room, along with some bookshelves, a papasan chair (that doesn't fit in the living room), and his dresser and crib. The other bedroom is the office/dog's room. Until we get Mark's shed together where he can put his tools, that bedroom is a junk room of sorts.
Here's the best way for me to describe the house as it stands right now (as far as decorated and put together).......... Any of you understand what I mean when I say "carpenter's house?" There's a big tradeoff you make when you have a handy man who can fix anything. You're house is always in a state of repair. I'm NOT putting Mark down with this, it's just the way it works out. After all, carpenters spend the day working, right? Repairing people's houses and making money off that. When they get home, they usually don't have the time or energy to fix something in the house they live in, and I can't blame them!!! Not only that, but I can't pay Mark to work on our house (as nice as that would be), so he's just got to get materials here when he can, piecing things together little by little.
So our hallway has gone through a year and a half long transition from carpeted, crappy drywall/trim to hardwoods, new drywall, and (what's in the process of ) new trim around the doors. But not all the doors have trim. We knocked out a hole in the wall between the kitchen and living room to open things up a bit (which we LOVE). That's still not all trimmed out.
Here's the struggle: I am simultaneously thankful for the fact that God gave us the ability as young twenty-somethings to buy a house, and discontent with the fact that it's not the most beautifully decorated or put together.
Where this struggle stems from, I have yet to figure out. I'm not sure if it's a my wanting to appear a certain way (to people) or if it's just my perfectionism manifesting itself in a desire for everything to be orderly (for myself). Even in a small house, it's possible to walk in and feel this cozy, magazine-like feeling about the way the house is put together and decorated. But for different reasons, ours can't be like that right now. I know that in the grand scheme of things, this is not a big deal. It doesn't even show up on the radar of things that matter. But for some reason, I struggle with wanting that perfection, to the point of giving disclaimers when people come over. Why do I need to do that?! We have a house, a roof over our heads, a place the sleep, a great mortgage for a couple starting out. Sure, add another child in a couple years and this place will feel really small (in fact, it's already starting to with Roscoe crawling around). But it's way more than we need or deserve.
Why can't my heart grasp onto what Paul says in Philippians 4:11-13
Mark and I were blessed with the ability to buy a house in January 2010. This house is about 890 sq ft, 3 bed, 1 bath. As you can probably imagine, fitting 3 bedrooms, 1 bathroom, a kitchen and a living room in 890 sq ft makes things a little cramped. Our room fits our bed (a king sized Mark got for FREE before we met), 2 nightstands, and his dresser. My dresser is in Roscoe's room, along with some bookshelves, a papasan chair (that doesn't fit in the living room), and his dresser and crib. The other bedroom is the office/dog's room. Until we get Mark's shed together where he can put his tools, that bedroom is a junk room of sorts.
Here's the best way for me to describe the house as it stands right now (as far as decorated and put together).......... Any of you understand what I mean when I say "carpenter's house?" There's a big tradeoff you make when you have a handy man who can fix anything. You're house is always in a state of repair. I'm NOT putting Mark down with this, it's just the way it works out. After all, carpenters spend the day working, right? Repairing people's houses and making money off that. When they get home, they usually don't have the time or energy to fix something in the house they live in, and I can't blame them!!! Not only that, but I can't pay Mark to work on our house (as nice as that would be), so he's just got to get materials here when he can, piecing things together little by little.
So our hallway has gone through a year and a half long transition from carpeted, crappy drywall/trim to hardwoods, new drywall, and (what's in the process of ) new trim around the doors. But not all the doors have trim. We knocked out a hole in the wall between the kitchen and living room to open things up a bit (which we LOVE). That's still not all trimmed out.
Here's the struggle: I am simultaneously thankful for the fact that God gave us the ability as young twenty-somethings to buy a house, and discontent with the fact that it's not the most beautifully decorated or put together.
Where this struggle stems from, I have yet to figure out. I'm not sure if it's a my wanting to appear a certain way (to people) or if it's just my perfectionism manifesting itself in a desire for everything to be orderly (for myself). Even in a small house, it's possible to walk in and feel this cozy, magazine-like feeling about the way the house is put together and decorated. But for different reasons, ours can't be like that right now. I know that in the grand scheme of things, this is not a big deal. It doesn't even show up on the radar of things that matter. But for some reason, I struggle with wanting that perfection, to the point of giving disclaimers when people come over. Why do I need to do that?! We have a house, a roof over our heads, a place the sleep, a great mortgage for a couple starting out. Sure, add another child in a couple years and this place will feel really small (in fact, it's already starting to with Roscoe crawling around). But it's way more than we need or deserve.
Why can't my heart grasp onto what Paul says in Philippians 4:11-13
.... Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circunstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
a guilty feeling awkward encounter
A few days ago I had to run out to a pharmacy to get some more diapers for Roscoe. Mark was back at the hotel so I was able to go alone. (Sidenote: it's amazing how enjoyable a quick pharmacy trip can be to a mom when she's able to go alone.)
As I pulled up to park I didn't notice a man sitting in front of the space until I was half-way parked. It would have been way too noticable and rude to have moved from that spot at that moment, so I finished parking and got out of the car with a smile.
Me, friendly and cheerful: "Hi!"
Him: "hey, how are ya?"
Me: "I'm doing well, you?"
Him, dejected and somewhat slurred: "Ohhhh I'm just trying to survive."
Maybe I wasn't expecting that response from him, leading to my terrible reaction. I just said "Aweee," with a little giggle. Not a mocking giggle, more like a giggle that would slip out as you passed by a child playing with a new puppy. Just light and airy.
Uggghhhhh.
I walked in feeling terrible and awkward. That was the perfect example of all those times that I said I'd react one way, when in reality I reacted the opposite.
What I should have been doing while in the store was trying to figure out how to respond in a more gospel-centered way once I returned to my car. Instead I was hoping maybe he'd moved on.
When I checked out (diapers and 2 bags of trail mix to munch on during the day), a man walked in and told the cashier "You got some guy bumming money off people out here." The cashier paged the manager to take care of the situation, but before that happened, I was ready to return to my car.
I walked out looking at the ground, determined not to say anything to him. As I unlocked it and began to open the door, that slurred voice said "Heeey sweethhheart..." Halfway into my seat, I looked up, smiled, and said "Hi!" again, awkwardly. I shut the door and started up the car. He was still sitting in that same spot, right in front of my car. He threw his hands up in that confused, shrugged position and cocked his head sideways. This next part nauseates me a little. I looked at him from behind the steering wheel, smiled and waved excitedly.
What was I trying to do? Make him feel better by smiling and being chipper? Seriously? Forgive me if this offends you, but there's only 1 word I can think of that he must have been thinking as I drove off: bitch. I shut my car door on him before he even had the chance to ask me for anything.
As I was driving off it hit me that I had bought 2 bags of trail mix. No, I didn't have any money to give him. But I had 2 bags of trail mix. If nothing else, I could have at least tossed him 1 as I got into my car. But I didn't.
I had the chance to show Jesus to him. To show him Christ's love with 1 simple little act, at virtually no cost. It would have cost us $4 and about 5 seconds of my time. Instead I did the comfortable thing. I ignored him. Worse than that. I closed the door in his face.
This happened 2 nights ago and I can't get it out of my head. I sing in worship to Christ about his love and ask Him to give me the opportunities to show it to others, and when the opportunity hits me over the head like a cinderblock, I don't recognize it. And at this point I'm wondering if I would react with Christ's love even if I did recognize it.
As I pulled up to park I didn't notice a man sitting in front of the space until I was half-way parked. It would have been way too noticable and rude to have moved from that spot at that moment, so I finished parking and got out of the car with a smile.
Me, friendly and cheerful: "Hi!"
Him: "hey, how are ya?"
Me: "I'm doing well, you?"
Him, dejected and somewhat slurred: "Ohhhh I'm just trying to survive."
Maybe I wasn't expecting that response from him, leading to my terrible reaction. I just said "Aweee," with a little giggle. Not a mocking giggle, more like a giggle that would slip out as you passed by a child playing with a new puppy. Just light and airy.
Uggghhhhh.
I walked in feeling terrible and awkward. That was the perfect example of all those times that I said I'd react one way, when in reality I reacted the opposite.
What I should have been doing while in the store was trying to figure out how to respond in a more gospel-centered way once I returned to my car. Instead I was hoping maybe he'd moved on.
When I checked out (diapers and 2 bags of trail mix to munch on during the day), a man walked in and told the cashier "You got some guy bumming money off people out here." The cashier paged the manager to take care of the situation, but before that happened, I was ready to return to my car.
I walked out looking at the ground, determined not to say anything to him. As I unlocked it and began to open the door, that slurred voice said "Heeey sweethhheart..." Halfway into my seat, I looked up, smiled, and said "Hi!" again, awkwardly. I shut the door and started up the car. He was still sitting in that same spot, right in front of my car. He threw his hands up in that confused, shrugged position and cocked his head sideways. This next part nauseates me a little. I looked at him from behind the steering wheel, smiled and waved excitedly.
What was I trying to do? Make him feel better by smiling and being chipper? Seriously? Forgive me if this offends you, but there's only 1 word I can think of that he must have been thinking as I drove off: bitch. I shut my car door on him before he even had the chance to ask me for anything.
As I was driving off it hit me that I had bought 2 bags of trail mix. No, I didn't have any money to give him. But I had 2 bags of trail mix. If nothing else, I could have at least tossed him 1 as I got into my car. But I didn't.
I had the chance to show Jesus to him. To show him Christ's love with 1 simple little act, at virtually no cost. It would have cost us $4 and about 5 seconds of my time. Instead I did the comfortable thing. I ignored him. Worse than that. I closed the door in his face.
This happened 2 nights ago and I can't get it out of my head. I sing in worship to Christ about his love and ask Him to give me the opportunities to show it to others, and when the opportunity hits me over the head like a cinderblock, I don't recognize it. And at this point I'm wondering if I would react with Christ's love even if I did recognize it.
Friday, April 22, 2011
taking a pay cut
One of the most popular questions people ask me since I've had Roscoe is "Are you going back to work?" I'm just going to jump right in and answer, rather than try to keep you in suspense.
No.
That wasn't the plan originally. In fact, I was excited to go back. We had decided that even if we didn't need the income, I'd still go back to work and we'd save the money for emergencies, home repairs, a college fund for Roscoe, etc... But that changed.
A few weeks ago we were chatting with friends around a firepit. I won't go into all the details, but the conversation turned towards women working vs. not working. Let me say now that neither Mark nor I hold the belief that a woman's "place is in the home" exclusively. But as the conversation progressed, I was inferring from Mark's comments that he was sad to see my maternity leave coming to an end. So far in our marriage, I've been working 40 hours a week ranging anywhere from 5 am to 11 pm. That's 7 days a week. But for the past 11 weeks, I've been home. And it's been wonderful. I can actually focus on making home an exciting place for Mark to come home to. I can cook dinner every night. If Mark isn't working, we're together as a family. Even something as simple as doing laundry is so much easier now that I'm not having to do it around a full-time job.
I guess it all boils down to priorities. As much as I loved my job (I was at Starbucks for 4.5 years) and the people it put me in contact with, slinging coffee isn't as important as family.
I look at this as a new chapter in my life, relinquishing my grip (just a little bit more) on independence and embracing my role as a wife and mother. After all, just look at them...... Why wouldn't I be excited about the opportunity to spend so much time with my favorite men?!
(by the way, Mark's not mad, the sun was just in his eyes) (but even if it weren't, he wouldn't be smiling for the camera anyway...........so I don't care)
No.
That wasn't the plan originally. In fact, I was excited to go back. We had decided that even if we didn't need the income, I'd still go back to work and we'd save the money for emergencies, home repairs, a college fund for Roscoe, etc... But that changed.
A few weeks ago we were chatting with friends around a firepit. I won't go into all the details, but the conversation turned towards women working vs. not working. Let me say now that neither Mark nor I hold the belief that a woman's "place is in the home" exclusively. But as the conversation progressed, I was inferring from Mark's comments that he was sad to see my maternity leave coming to an end. So far in our marriage, I've been working 40 hours a week ranging anywhere from 5 am to 11 pm. That's 7 days a week. But for the past 11 weeks, I've been home. And it's been wonderful. I can actually focus on making home an exciting place for Mark to come home to. I can cook dinner every night. If Mark isn't working, we're together as a family. Even something as simple as doing laundry is so much easier now that I'm not having to do it around a full-time job.
I guess it all boils down to priorities. As much as I loved my job (I was at Starbucks for 4.5 years) and the people it put me in contact with, slinging coffee isn't as important as family.
I look at this as a new chapter in my life, relinquishing my grip (just a little bit more) on independence and embracing my role as a wife and mother. After all, just look at them...... Why wouldn't I be excited about the opportunity to spend so much time with my favorite men?!
Sunday, February 6, 2011
it flies in the face of what i've believed
So our church is starting a new series through the book of Malachi. Last week was the intro, getting accustomed to the tone of the book. God approaches a depressed and discouraged people with a truth about Him and His character. And the response He anticipates is rebuttal. He says "I have loved you. But you say, 'how have you loved us?'" You can see "but you say" repeated throughout the book. God gives them a truth, and is not shocked with hearing "but...." as a response.
This week blew me away. It's pretty natural and human to think that things happen according to your standing with God. If I'm good and follow all his commands, He'll bless me. If not, then my life will be marked by suffering and "bad things." Right? I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it?
The points from tonight's message in a nutshell: God's righteous anger and His covenantal love are NOT based on natural qualities, circumstantial events, or mood swings.
So.......... just because a person is flourishing or "blessed" does not mean that he is out from under the wrath of God. At the same time, just because a person is experiencing difficult trials or suffering does not mean that he is out from under the love of God. This is what I have been mulling over all night. My mind doesn't want to work that way.
This quote sums it up well:
If my interpretation of God's love is filtered through my experiences or feelings regarding love, then I will conclude that God's love is fickle like mine. But if my understanding of the love of God is grounded on His covenantal distinctions as manifested through the cross of Christ, then my experience of love is resistant to the constant fluctuation of my condition. God's love did not emerge is a flash of favor, nor does it disappear in a period of disappointment. His character and covenantal purposes do not change (Malachi 3:6). Therefore, my relationship with Him is not fluctuating with my performance or passions.
I don't claim to be a good sermon reiterator (although I think I did just invent a word), but I'll repeat what I've already said, because this is what flies in the face of what I've believed all my life:
Just because a person is flourishing or "blessed" does not mean that he is out from under the wrath of God. At the same time, just because a person is experiencing difficult trials or suffering does not mean that he is out from under the love of God.
So, "I am blessed because I have done _____________." No, I'm sorry, but according to the book of Malachi, God doesn't operate that way. Or how about "God is displeased with me and punishing me because I _____________." No, his righteous anger isn't based on what you do, nor are you justified by it.
There's a lot to think about here, and I'm really looking forward to this series. And if you're curious, yes, church was tonight. I know it's Saturday. But North Hills moves their Sunday evening service to Saturday the weekend of the Super Bowl to allow people the opportunity to still attend the evening service AND host a party on Sunday night. The only problem with it? Now I feel like tomorrow is Monday, and that throws me off for the whole week.
This week blew me away. It's pretty natural and human to think that things happen according to your standing with God. If I'm good and follow all his commands, He'll bless me. If not, then my life will be marked by suffering and "bad things." Right? I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it?
The points from tonight's message in a nutshell: God's righteous anger and His covenantal love are NOT based on natural qualities, circumstantial events, or mood swings.
So.......... just because a person is flourishing or "blessed" does not mean that he is out from under the wrath of God. At the same time, just because a person is experiencing difficult trials or suffering does not mean that he is out from under the love of God. This is what I have been mulling over all night. My mind doesn't want to work that way.
This quote sums it up well:
If my interpretation of God's love is filtered through my experiences or feelings regarding love, then I will conclude that God's love is fickle like mine. But if my understanding of the love of God is grounded on His covenantal distinctions as manifested through the cross of Christ, then my experience of love is resistant to the constant fluctuation of my condition. God's love did not emerge is a flash of favor, nor does it disappear in a period of disappointment. His character and covenantal purposes do not change (Malachi 3:6). Therefore, my relationship with Him is not fluctuating with my performance or passions.
I don't claim to be a good sermon reiterator (although I think I did just invent a word), but I'll repeat what I've already said, because this is what flies in the face of what I've believed all my life:
Just because a person is flourishing or "blessed" does not mean that he is out from under the wrath of God. At the same time, just because a person is experiencing difficult trials or suffering does not mean that he is out from under the love of God.
So, "I am blessed because I have done _____________." No, I'm sorry, but according to the book of Malachi, God doesn't operate that way. Or how about "God is displeased with me and punishing me because I _____________." No, his righteous anger isn't based on what you do, nor are you justified by it.
There's a lot to think about here, and I'm really looking forward to this series. And if you're curious, yes, church was tonight. I know it's Saturday. But North Hills moves their Sunday evening service to Saturday the weekend of the Super Bowl to allow people the opportunity to still attend the evening service AND host a party on Sunday night. The only problem with it? Now I feel like tomorrow is Monday, and that throws me off for the whole week.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)