Poets and Saints
…and the moms who try to be both.Archive for Faith
Falling Without Fear
The transition from baby to toddler is something of a metamorphosis. First they are this helpless, squirmy thing, spitting up all over themselves while smiling at the ceiling fan. Then they become a little person who throws their peas and dances in circles and tells you no when you try to join in. This dance is all about them.
Young children are particular. They change their minds. One day they like fettucine; the next day they won’t touch it. They are happy, then pleading; they dawdle, then run away from you when it is time to go. They say amen after the itsy bitsy spider, not realizing amen is saved for prayers. Perhaps the word amen is not only for the reverent times when our heads our bowed and eyes are closed, but it is for all of life. Amen to the joyous times. Amen to the showers. Amen to life.
The tomatoes are ripening and the vines are weighed low with the fruit. The first one off the vine is a small green one, compliments of my daughter. She picked it herself. I’m trying to teach her that it is only the red ones we pick–the rest we leave hanging to ripen in the sun. They are not ready–not yet–but she is. She runs in the patio door, her hands full of tomatoes, exuberant in her find. She hands me an orange one first. We have made progress. At least it is not green, or smashed, or half-eaten. I cut them up and give her a taste. More? she asks. That night she eats all of them off her plate. Amen for homegrown tomatoes.
Afterward, daddy chases her around the room and she comes barreling toward me, falling into my arms for safety. There is no hesitation when she falls, it is full body forward with no fear. There is something about that motion that is full of faith. Not the kind of faith that reconsiders, or hems and haws, or doubts for a moment, but is the fully trusting, never wavering, falling in mid-air kind of faith. It is the kind I’d like to have, and not just on my good days either, but even on the days when the news is bleak and the worry is bubbling up in me like a chemistry experiment gone awry. I want to fall, not hoping that someone will catch me, but instead, never doubting there was any other option but to be caught.
Amen for falling without fear. Amen for the faith of a child.
*This blog originally appeared in August 2007.
My Thursday Inspiration
I have been involved in a great bible study this year called Bible Study Fellowship (BSF). It is an interdenominational bible study that meets at various churches thoughout the world. As it so happens, one BSF group meets at my church and I am just finishing up my first year of study which was on the life of Moses.
This has been my first bible study since having children and I was a little unsure about how I as going to keep up with the lessons. That sounds dumb to me since I only have one child. How hard can it be to find 15 minutes a day? But I am surprised how busy my days can be even with one child. Anyway, I have found various ways to manage it, by carving out a little quiet time during the afternoon or later in the evening. Thursday is the day we meet and get a chance to discuss our week’s lesson in a discussion group. Then we listen to a lecture on that day’s lesson. It’s a chance to worship and learn about God, get some soul-refreshment and a break, and lets my daughter have some great Bible learning time in BSF’s children’s program, where she learns the same scripture that the adults study. I have been very impressed with the kids’ program and my daughter loves it. It’s very structured, yet creative and has a purpose. (On a side note: It’s only for ages 2 through 6 for the daytime program.)
Next year we are studying the book of John–my favorite gospel. I took a January term class on it in college, but since that was more than ten years ago, I am in need of a good refresher course.
If anyone is interested in finding out more, you can attend an introductory class to find out what it’s all about. There are also evening classes and men’s classes, but there are class size limitations for both adults and children. Many people sign up in May for next Fall’s study, but if you choose to wait until September you might still get in (that’s how I did it). For those of you who live around here, I can give you more information about the class and introductory dates.
I only have a few more weeks left until BSF goes on summer break, but I am already thinking of a few spiritual books I want to read this summer…
- All I need is Jesus and a Good Pair of Jeans by Susanna Foth Aughtmon (I am currently in a book club for this one, so we’ll finish it this summer.)
- Don’t Waste Your Life by John Piper
And then of course there’s my summer fun books that I read too (more on that later). Not that spiritual books can’t be fun, but I think you know what I mean! Oh, I can’t wait for summer.
The dilemma of being a Stay At Home Mom
Although there are some things I miss about working, most of it I do not: the long hours, the job expectations, having to juggle so many responsibilities. What I do miss about working is the adult contact, having people say “good job”or “thank you” when something has been completed well and seeing tangible results every so often. There are very few people saying “good job” in the world of mothering and the results are so long term, it’s hard to see if I’m making any progress. On the other hand there are so many good things in my days at home–things I’d never get to do or experience if I worked–those small moments are the ones I’m thankful for.
I love having freedom in my days. Today I can go to the zoo, work in the sunshine, take a bike ride, or whatever I want. Okay, not whatever I want. I must work around my daughter’s schedule and moods, but it sure beats typing on the computer when there’s an 80 degree day in April. (Ironically as I write this, it is 81 degrees and I’m working on my computer. But I did spend the entire morning outside working on our yard).
I also recognize that living on one income is not possible for everyone. There are many people who would love to stay home, but cannot make it on one income. I wish that were not the case. I wish everyone had the option to have one parent at home, but I know that is not reality. This is not a blog to make the working moms feel bad or the stay at home moms feel superior. There are sacrifices with either choice. There are reasons for every choice. And you can be a good mom in doing whatever you choose. It is not the choice so much as it is the living out of that choice. There are days that I am not a very good stay at home mom. But I know there is grace too, because I’ll never be a perfect mom either way.
Motherhood takes so much time and effort, I have doubts about how well I could really do both full time work and mothering. I admire moms who juggle so many responsibilities and am amazed at how many of them seem to handle it with great ease. But after my own experience with working part time, I recognize the stress that it creates when I’m forced to split my time between being an excellent wife and mother and doing my job well. I didn’t really like who I was when I was doing both.
My choice to stay home meant we had to be brutal with our budget when we went to one income. We cut out YMCA memberships and nice vacations. We pared down our clothes budget and house budgets. I got a cheaper cell phone plan, cheaper insurance plans, had our house refinanced, and stopped eating out except on rare occasions or when we have a gift certificate. You name it, we probably slashed it. In the process, we saved a ton of money. Our budget cuts were bloody, but I enjoy life just as much now as I did before. Maybe even more.
But it also meant changing my habits. I now shop regularly at the Goodwill for clothes and toys. I turn down social requests that involve eating out or going to event that costs too much money. We still have budgeted one special night out a month (which includes paying a babysitter). The hard part is saving that special occasion for an occasional date with my husband. We get asked to do so many other things (fun things, like talking to other adults!), it’s difficult to turn people down because we can’t afford to do both. Learning to say no is the hardest part of this whole stay at home thing. Say no to the shirt at Target. Say no to dinner out. Say no so you can say yes. That’s the irony of the choice.
I realize that our whole lifestyle and the precarious nature of living this way means relying on God to provide for us. I realize that having so little money often means that our house of cards could fall at any moment. I can’t rely on any job to provide for my needs, I must rely on God. There’s no easy way to do that. So I pray and trust and try to find joy in my days the way my daughter does. She doesn’t worry about tomorrow, so why do I? It’s not easy to have faith like a child. But this is part of the decision too: Having faith and not regretting what I didn’t choose.
Resurrection Eggs
Looking to make Easter more meaningful without adding more bunnies or sugar highs to the celebration?
This year we have been using a Bible teaching tool called Resurrection Eggs to teach about the Passion week. A small object is placed in twelve eggs to teach the stories of Jesus’ last week, from Palm Sunday to his resurrection. Children then open the eggs and a part of the Bible story is read. We are doing one or two eggs every night after supper since that is when we do devotions. Another mom used these twelve eggs as an “egg hunt” at home, then had her kids find and open them one by one while she retold the story of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Just don’t forget to number your eggs one through twelve!
For a guide on how to do this yourself, check this website. We made our egg kit at MOPS and had slightly different objects, but the idea was the same. You can also leave the last egg empty as a symbol of the empty tomb. This has been a fun family project, similar to our Jesse Tree at Christmas and helps prepare children for the celebration of Resurrection Day. (Hint: We will be talking about Jesse Trees this year at our church and encouraging people to make their own. If you want to get started on it early here is a great resource.)
Have a wonderful and blessed Easter! He has risen indeed!
Adoption Update
This weekend was a disappointment.
That’s actually an understatement.
It was heart-breaking.
We got a call from the adoption agency with the chance to adopt a newborn already born at the hospital. They didn’t have a lot of information and we had to decide very quickly. The combination of little info and a quick decision made it extremely hard to come to a solid conclusion. Of course we wanted to do it. We really wanted to. That was our first thought.
But as the information trickled in, it didn’t sit right with us. There were some red flags; some things that could impact us down the road. I won’t go into the details because it really isn’t important now, except to say that we couldn’t feel totally settled about it. If I had more time to accept some of the issues or if we could have gotten this information beforehand, who knows, maybe we could have done it. Maybe. But we didn’t have the luxury of time or information, which made it all the harder to feel good about the outcome.
I wish these kinds of decision weren’t so hard. I wish adoption would come together in a nice, tidy sort of way. But it usually doesn’t. I recently read that “even in the best circumstances adoption is a leap of faith.” It is messy. Anything but perfect. There is always something that makes you hestitate, that makes you ask, “Are you sure?”
The same was true with our first adoption. It wasn’t perfect either, but it was better than this weekend. We had 3 weeks to decide and we had a lot more information ahead of time. We had time to wrestle with it, grapple with it and then decide, “Yes, this is right.” Those things made a world of difference. It helped to unify our decision. It gave us time to accept the things that were difficult. It gave us time to have peace.
We were so confused this weekend; we finally decided to say no. Afterwards, I thought I would feel relieved, but instead, I just felt sad. Sad that I didn’t have more time, more information, more money, fewer questions and more answers. There was so much sadness that things just weren’t right.
One of the hardest things is that we had trouble really discerning what the Lord wanted us to do. There was no handwriting on the wall. No special wisdom or anything. The advice we got was even more conflicting. Some telling us to “Wait on the Lord;” others saying “Step out in faith.” Those are both good thoughts, even Biblical ones, but they were people saying opposite things. That seemed to be the nature of the whole situation.
Now people keep telling us that if we didn’t have peace, then it wasn’t meant to be. I agree with that to a point, but am not so sure that what I was feeling was a lack of peace or just a lack of faith. I even question whether I was really feeling fear and that I somehow interpreted it as not having peace. To be honest, I am not really sure. I just know that I am second guessing my own emotions and that is a hard place to be. This one decision is permanent. Lifelong. Choice is both a horrible and a beautiful thing.
The only thing that has brought us some reconciliation is the news that the baby was placed with another family. That is bringing us closure. We are slowly feeling better. But in our hearts, we are still sort of in mourning about the whole thing.
Now I am praying much more passionately about our adoption: about our future baby’s health, the birthmom, the situation, and that we’ll know–somehow–when the right opportunity comes around. I can’t explain it. But I hope God gives second chances.
Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas friends!
This is a picture from our ice storm last Friday. Ice covered our windows so thickly that you couldn’t see through the glass; only the stick-on reindeer flying through an icy sky were visible. As long as I was safe at home, the ice made a beautiful spectacle to behold. I told my husband it reminded me of Narnia when the white witch had everything frozen so that it was ‘always winter.’ The good news is that it will not always be winter and the ice will melt and spring will return. But before it can, we celebrate the Saviour’s birth in a wondrous way.
May you and your family have a peaceful and safe holiday. May there be much merriment, good food, a warm house, and lots of love as you remember the reason to celebrate.
I will be taking a holiday break to celebrate Christmas and spend some time with the family. Until then…
Love and Peace,
Sara
Morning
Morning
You are a warm bed that I can’t get out of, a hot cup of coffee, the morning paper, and the sun shining in my eyes. You are big fuzzy slippers and a slice of coffee cake. You usher in the warmth of heat that fills the house. There is new snow on the ground. My worries are forgotten. The sound of laughter fills the kitchen. Morning, I love you because you are newness, a clean slate, a chance to make up for my wrongs, a chance to forgive.
His mercies are new every morning.
Thank God for this.
May you wake up Thanksgiving morning with the feeling of gratitude for the simple things.
Gratitude
I’m crunching numbers again. I’ve worked three jobs this year for our adoption but we are still short of our goal to complete the adoption process. The number is a discouraging amount–too much money to try and just tighten the budget a little more. I will have to find more work or organize a fundraiser or even both. My mind tends to get stuck on these kind of details. That’s when I start to worry. But I’m trying something foreign to me: I try to let it go. Somehow I have to trust God to work it all out. I’m not sure how or when or where.
The next week at church a guy approaches Sam and me. I don’t know him, but Sam does and I soon find out we have something in common. We are both adoptive parents.
He says to us, “My wife and I aren’t going to adopt any more children, but we want to help those that are adopting, so we would like to send you some money this week.”
I am a little speechless. I don’t know what to say other than thank you (and somehow that never seems to be enough). Why would they want to give me money? How did they know?
On Tuesday, my daughter is outside playing. It is an exceptionally warm day for November, in the 70’s and we decide to take a walk to the mailbox. We live in one of those neighborhoods where the mailbox is down the street. My daughter likes riding her bike to the mailbox or just poking along the sidewalk tripping over uneven slabs of concrete. The mailbox trip becomes a family affair usually ending with a handful of sale flyers and throw away mail. But not today. My husband opens a white envelope from the guy at church. I look at it once. Then twice. The check is for the exact amount of our adoption shortfall.
“Oh my word, oh my word,” I say. My daughter is unfazed. We gather hands and say a prayer of thanks to God and then try to explain to our daughter what we just got in the mail. She doesn’t get it, but she knows God is bringing us a baby. She prays for it almost every night.
My husband calls up the man on the phone to thank him. He cries as he does it. The only other time I remember him crying on the phone was when he called his parents to tell them he was diagnosed with cancer. But this time, his tears are joy.
The next week I read our memory verse for family devotions. “Our Father knows what we need before we ask him.”
Thank you God for knowing our needs and meeting all of them.
The Two-Step
My daughter came out of her room tonight after sleeping for an hour and cried, “I had a bad dream!” Actually, her first cry was, “I have to go potty,” followed by “I had a bad dream!” It is not easy to be afraid at her age. She says “I scared” when the lights are off, or when we’re alone in an unfamiliar place, or when we’re playing tag and she doesn’t want to be tagged. Fear is a giant to a child. It is the unknown. It’s a bad feeling that won’t go away. Why won’t it go away?
For a short time as a child I had a bizarre fear of being the last person awake at night in the entire world. This was before I understood time zones and the fact that it was daytime in other parts of the world when I was sleeping. I believed everyone went to bed around the same time and slept at least eight hours. It never occurred to me that some people actually stayed up at night–on purpose–or that college students finished research papers at three AM, or that mothers nursed babies multiple times through the night. As far as I was concerned, we were one big sleeping planet. To be awake was to be alone, cosmically alone, while the world snored madly on. I lay awake pondering this one night, only to find myself tossing and turning, trying to will myself asleep, sure that I was the last person awake in the world. For some reason, I was petrified by this thought. Whereas normal nightmares were relieved from waking up, my nightmare was being awake. After a night with very little sleep, it finally occurred to me that it was impossible to be the last person awake. Some people worked night jobs. Some people watched TV. Some people didn’t need much sleep. Once I realized this, I fell right asleep. I never worried about it again.
But I still have problems with fear. Worry is what its called, but the two are related: one is a prerequesite for another. Left unchecked, worry becomes fear. There are so many things to worry about: the economy, the election, finances, health, the future. But I don’t want to live this way. It is not an abundant or grateful life. Worry is the opposite of gratefulness. It steals my self control, my patience, my joy. If I want to enjoy the goodness that each day brings, then I need to control my worry. Someone told me recently: “Don’t panic. Trust God.” That seems to be a mantra for my life, something to tattoo on my arm or at least put on a refrigerator magnet.
When I am trusting God I’m focused on my gratitude for life: the hot drink in my hand, the laughter of a two year old, the soup on the stove, thinking about what I can do for others and what God has done for me. That’s when I start to dream too–to continue to believe that there are so many good things left to do.
All this out of two steps. Don’t panic. Trust God.
Green
Yesterday I had the chance to speak to my MOPS group (Mothers of Preschoolers) on “green living.” I didn’t know how receptive people would be about the topic, but I found that the group was very interested and there were lots of questions and positive comments. People were eager to learn ways to make their homes and food choices more natural. I also tried to emphasize that it’s the small choices that count too. We’re not going to change the world by growing organic food or composting our vegetable scraps, but it is one step closer to making a difference. Sometimes all we can do are the little things.
I can’t say that I haven’t faced doubters in the past. I get asked by a lot of people about organic food. I’m not sure why I’ve become a resource for this, but I encounter people who are both curious and doubtful. I had one friend who even told me that people who shopped at our local food co-op didn’t wear deodorant.
“What?” I asked.
And he said, “You know, they don’t wear deoderant and so they’re a little stinky.”
I said, “They wear deoderant! What are you talking about?”
We laughed about it as only friends can, but there was a grain of truth in his joke: he thought people who shopped there didn’t believe in it.
Others ask us more innocent questions like “what is organic food?” One friend admitted he thought all food was organic since the literal definition of organic is “derived from a living organism.” My husband told him that organic food has not been sprayed with chemical pesticides or weed killers, and only those labeled organic have met these standards. This friend later revealed that he had been buying organic ketchup because he thought it tasted better. My husband and I think a lot of organic food tastes better since it’s allowed to ripen naturally and picked closer to its peak state. But my goal isn’t to beat that into people’s heads. I’ve never thought of myself as an expert; I’m a learner like everyone else. And I like sharing what I’ve learned with others too. So it’s a little surprising to find that I’ve become a resource for those who are just getting started on this journey. But it’s a journey that we’re doing together in our own little communities and I enjoy experiencing this with them.
But at the same time, I wonder why am I a resource for this and not something else like my faith? I don’t have people asking me about my beliefs in the same way that they ask about my organic eating or natural cleaning habits. I rarely get asked by the curious or doubtful person why I believe in Jesus Christ, but I have lots of stories about being questioned on my food choices. Is it just easier to talk about food than faith? Or am I not living my faith to the extent where people see the difference? These are things I’m asking because I’d like to share the same kind of encounters about my faith that I do with my food. I want others to see that choosing Christ is an alternative lifestyle that changes my thinking, my actions, my words, and the choices I make everyday.
Because this is real living.
