November 23, 2010

• I Was Going To

    I was going to get up early this morning and immerse myself in studying the love of God. 

  But the bed felt so cozy and the darkness was so dark.

   

  So I lay there till 7:10.  Then I crawled out and got dressed and waited till 9:00 to comb my hair.  I read a few words of Philip Yancey and a few verses in I John and prayed, “Please help me, God.  I don’t know if I can face this day.”  And the day rushed upon me before I was ready for it.

   

  I was going to post this status on Facebook yesterday:  “A workout cleaning 6 inches of snow off the dugout for skating, little people dressed up so warmly that they can hardly walk, red cheeks and hot chocolate.  Who says southerners have more fun?”

   

   But by the time I had taken the skates off of two weeping little people and the snowpants off of a third who was screaming, had washed countless hot chocolate mugs and skirted around the wet mittens drying by the fire I just didn’t have the heart.

   

  I was going to take my baby’s bottle away because she is now 18 months and I don’t want it rotting her teeth or pushing them out.  But I gave her Just One More at naptime today.

   

  I was feeling all warm and cozy about family as we all sprawled in the livingroom and ate icecream and pretzels and read books for a few quiet moments before bedtime.  And then Andre dumped his icecream on the hearth and Natalia’s fell upside down on the carpet.  And the warm and cozy left and didn’t come back.

   

  I was going to go to church and sing my heart out and forget that there are only 32 of us and focus on Jesus.  But then the song leader picked I Love Thy Kingdom Lord and we started into it before he realized it was the wrong tune for the song.   And things fizzled out because there was no chorus where the chorus should be for the tune we were singing.  And then we sang it in the slightly unfamiliar music to which it was written because some brave soul led us through it.  And I lost both my composure and my focus on Jesus.  (No offense, Mr. Song Leader.  It could have been me!)

   

  I was going to blog grand and glorious thoughts. Or at least finish one of the 10 posts that I have started and saved in Microsoft Word.   But I read other blogs yesterday.  And by the time I came away from the clever and the witty and the inspiring and the popular I wondered what there was left to say.

   

  I was going to clean up my house this morning and then sew.  But I wasted time online looking for tickets to Belize (and…reading Facebook and Xanga).  And before I knew it there were eggshells on the rug and bits of paper all over under the table and capless markers dangerously at large and mittens and socks strewn through the house.  And the day had begun and I decided to wait to clean up till naptime.

   

  {Natalia just told me that when she looks at her nose she has four feet.  One little discovery on how to see double. }

   

  My heart was overwhelmed with feelings of love for Dan.  The man who comes into the house on these cold days and tends the fire and says, “Is everyone warm and happy in here?”  The man who plays board games for hours on end with his children.  The man who loves me unconditionally, which is no easy task.  My big, kind, huggable husband.  But last night I went to sleep feeling lonely and misunderstood and thinking, “How could two people be more different from each other?”  (But he’s the one who got the lemon, folks.)

   

  I was going to watch the Woman After God’s Own Heart DVDs that have so blessed my dear friend Laura.  And in so doing I hoped to get a handle on home management like Laura and Elizabeth George seem to have.  But the venerable Mrs. George does not settle with me at this time in life.  Her standard seems so high.  I cannot attain unto it. 

   

  I was going to quit nagging and getting into combat with my older children.  But when Bryant complained AGAIN about putting away dishes I resorted to my old tactics.

   

  I was going to be a fun mom and let my small ones have a tea party.  But when they insisted on pouring their own milk and stirring the honey all over the place, the fun mom became the stern mom again.

   

  I was going to find a pretty sweater and scarf and maybe even some boots (with heels!) that don’t look silly on little Mennonite me for our date in December to hear Handel’s Messiah by the Edmonton Symphony Choir.  Instead I wasted some precious time (alone) wandering aimlessly through the mall, afraid to go into fancy stores with a salesperson breathing down my neck, afraid of $120 price tags on pretty boots, feeling hopelessly uninspired.

   

  I was going to write a Christmas letter and send it early for a change.  But I couldn’t get it together.  And so I decided that I will probably wait like I usually do and send it in January.  Or maybe not at all.

   

  I was going to be wise when I was 36.  Wise and mature and secure and admirable and ever so godly.  But instead I feel needy and doubtful, still searching for answers. 

   

  I want to be a woman of purpose, but I’m still muddling. 

   

  And I don’t want to stay here.

   

  I remember an old Randy Travis song that said “I hear tell the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”  Never liked that song.

   

  So tonight, Father, I’m asking for a touch from You.

   

  A Touch that will help me to make The Choices that are excellent.  Choices that go beyond intentions and translate into purpose and wisdom and fruitfulness and hard work and blessing others.  So that my life will not just be a series of ‘shoulds’ and ‘going-tos’. 

   

  And somehow in all of this I need a grace beyond my own to know what is important and what is just an unreachable goal in this crazy life of mine.

   

   

   

   

  Other randomness: 

   

  Because I’m feeling nostalgic about Belize.

  

   

  And because it’s just fun to look at old pictures:  (old as in 4 years ago)

   

  

  

   

  (I’ve always gotten a bang out of this photo.  It was not a planned shot.)

   

  Happy Things from here:

   

  -The ice is beautiful because it froze hard before it snowed.

  -Today Natalia asked me if it’s “Down in my heart Tues-day ” {to stay} in I Have the Joy, Joy, Joy .

  -We might be flying to Belize in February.  I am ecstatic.  I don’t care that it will mean extreme busyness and tiredness and parading our family of 8 through customs and security checks.  I just cannot wait to see our friends there and soak up that beautiful sunshine and eat escabeche and corn tortillas.

  -Liesl says little 3 word sentences.  Her beautiful brown skin is so squishy and kissable.  She likes to hide from me when it’s time to change her clothes.

  -Andre still rocks and sings on his chair.

  -I love our little wood stove.

  -The children come home from school singing their Christmas program songs. 

  -We have the nicest teacher team at school.

  -I woke from a luscious little nap today and the sunshine on the snow made me feel alive and well and energetic.

  -I made pizza tonight for supper.  I am insecure about pizza because I seldom make it.  But it turned out.

   

  Sad Things:

   

  -I am getting a muffin top.  I have never been beautiful or talented, but I have been thin, especially since all my babies.  Like beauty and talent, my slimness was a gift.  No merit of my own.  Because I eat whatever I want to eat and rarely exercise seriously.  But I have this hunch that slimness will not always be my lot.  And it makes me very sad.  Because I like Reese cups and I hate exercising other than walking.

  -It is Very Cold.  I took a walk after school and had to keep putting my hands over my face to keep it warm for a few minutes against the bite.  (But the sunshine made up for it.)

   

  I can’t think of many sad things, though they were many this morning.

   

  Above all, I don’t want my posts to be meaningless drivel.  Dan says sometimes that he thinks Facebook and Xanga can be kind of a competition to see who can be the funniest or the smartest or the most spiritual or whatever.  Even though I might argue against such sentiments, I know what he means.  I don’t want to be that way, but I have a very competitive streak.

   

  I also hate the way blogging makes me feel self-centered.  Me this.   Me that.  I feel.  I believe.  Because I care intensely about others.

   

  So I am really trying to write and not worry about what others think.  I’m trying to forget about popularity or trying to be clever just to be clever.

   

  Because blogging is fun.  And it gives saneness to a long dark winter in the North.  It clears my mind of nattering thoughts.  It unloads some of the burdens of my heart.

   

  And a quote from Reaching for the Invisible God by Philip Yancey:

  “The hunger for God that I feel-that is a sign of the Spirit’s presence in me.  My fitful battles with lust, my conviction of pride, the strong sense of when I need to apologize, and when to forgive-these signs of God are to me every bit as impressive as a burning bush.  They let me know God is still at work inside me.”

   

   

  • 12:49 am
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