Lessons Learned the Hard Way: On Joy

I'm going to confess something to you.

Joy in motherhood hasn't always come easily to me. 

Before I met Gabe, I had my mind made up that I did.not.want.kids.

Obviously, things changed, as I've been pregnant twice and have one beautiful living girl. 

When we brought Ella home from the hospital, and I started to believe that I really really was going to be able to keep this one, a new fear took over. Yes, I had given birth and Ella was alive and whole, but WHAT IF something happened? 

What if she died of SIDS? 

What if I dropped her?

What if I'm not cut out to be a Mom? 

What if? What if? What if?

The first two months of Ella's life were MISERABLE. Awful. I was in a place that I absolutely hated (Texas) and nobody and I mean, NOBODY told me that what I was feeling was normal. When I returned to Chicago, things got better almost right away, but the turning point was when my Dad sat me down and told me

"You need to find your joy. You are going to miss everything."

For the next few months, I soaked up everything about my infant daughter. I took her on long walks and talked to her every step in the grocery store. I memorized every detail of her crooked little smile. I played with more baby toys than she probably did! 

We moved across town from my Mom and Dad and then my husband left his job and a lot of stuff fell onto my shoulders. I worked nonstop, and even took Ella to work with me. And, friends, it's hard to find joy on a deadline night, when you're haulin' a gigantic diaper bag and a one year old up a precarious flight of stairs, not knowing when you're going to be able to sit down and have a real dinner at home. 

One such deadline night, a call came into the office. Being the only one there, I answered the phone. It was my Dad. 

"What on earth are you still doing there?" he practically shouted. "I'll be right there." 

Ten minutes later, the security bell was ringing and my Dad thrust a plate into my hands. 

"Dinner." he said. "Your mother made it and it's delicious. You need to SLOW DOWN. EAT."

I ate silently, while Ella slept in a playpen in my office. That night was a big wake up call. And so, I slowed down. I worked every.single.day, but I made time to see the joy. The little things. A string of beads from the dollar store. A trip to the pizza place across town. A new park. 

When we came to North Carolina in 2010, Ella was 4. Gabe and I hated each other. (seriously, we did. ask him) Life was miserable. I was depressed. I wanted to go home. And one day, Ella grabbed my hand and said, "Come on, Mom. Let's go and explore!!!" So, we did. We explored our yard. We explored the town. We hiked near the watershed, and I stepped in a pond (we actually live near the watershed now and we laugh every time we pass it, because "Mom stepped in a pond!!!") Those days with my daughter are what got me through those tough times of depression, during the awful times in my marriage.

Currently, we've been in North Carolina for nearly 5 years. It hasn't been easy, and the last 2 years, my sanity has taken a hit. My Dad was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, and thankfully, he is in remission and recovering. We've moved 3 times in 2 years, but we're finally in a place that my whole family loves. My marriage, which suffered much since 2006, has been repaired by God's grace. 

The last week was especially hard. Losing a family pet is never easy. Losing a family pet when you're working 3 jobs, have both spouses working AND in school and basically things going a mile a minute is nearly impossible. Doesn't leave much room for joy...

Today, I took Ella to do a craft at the library. I've been feeling off and nauseous since yesterday, and honestly, I did not want to go. The thought of being in a library with a bunch of 8-12 year olds made me even more nauseous. I very nearly said "We'll go next week." But, kids can be persuasive so I went. We made super hero capes. Ella, of course, is Super Owl: Saving the World from Mice Everywhere. 

Two people asked me for use of my drawing skills today. Ella got to see an old friend and made some new ones. 

On the way home, we stopped by the Schwan's truck and bought soup. I was watching her run across a field, cape flying in the wind, when she turned back and shouted, "Mom! Thanks for today!" 

To find my joy in motherhood, I have to stop and look. Look past the immediately visible circumstances. Yes, I'm stressed. Yes, I'm tired (all.the.time). Yes, life goes a mile a minute around here. 

But there is so much joy. I just have to stop and find it.

Lessons Learned the Hard Way: Unappreciated? or Unappreciative?

That's a title that just screams self-pity, isn't it?

Sadly, it's how I felt all day Tuesday. I got up way too early after way too little sleep and went to work. Then, I put in a full day of homeschooling, and it was one of THOSE days where nothing goes right, where homeschooling is not fun or productive and to spare you any more self-pity details, it just plain sucked.

That night, before I went to bed I told God that the day had pretty much sucked. I felt like nobody appreciated what I did. A little recognition would be nice! (how selfish am I?) I went to bed angry, defeated and turned my back on my husband in bed.

Yesterday morning, with husband and kid still in bed, I made my way to the living room and picked up my Bible. I don't remember where I read, but I do remember the overwhelming feeling that God was telling me that the prior day wasn't the problem, my attitude was.

You're upset that nobody recognizes you?

You're upset because people aren't willing to do things for you?

What have you done for OTHERS lately?

But, Lord, You don't understand. I'm so busy all of the time doing things for others. I'm so busy and nobody notices what I do.

Oh, they notice.

No, they don't! Nobody notices ANYTHING I do.

That's because all they notice is your attitude.

Conviction hit me like a wrecking ball. My attitude? Well...

*I snapped at my daughter
*I rolled my eyes when I realized that we had a minor plumbing problem that my husband couldn't fix, and muttered the whole time I was fixing it.
*While I made dinner, I clattered kitchen implements as loudly as I could.
*And let's not forget, I picked a fight with my husband before bedtime.

Once I got over the shock of what a JERK I've been, I decided I was going to devote Wednesday to SERVING other people. And not in the way I had been.

So, I finished up my Bible reading and set about making breakfast. Cinnamon rolls. Bagels if the family didn't want cinnamon rolls. I prepared Ella's lessons. Lovingly fed the fish and kittens. I sat around for another while, reading a devotional. Ella woke up. We had a long talk about the previous day.

Lessons flew by. There were no problems like the day before. We were nearly done with school time when Gabe ambled into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed before work. I apologized, and he looked at me as if I had gone crazy. I never apologize. (yet another fault I need to work on desperately)

I told Ella about me wanting to serve others, and she jumped right on board with that idea. We saw our neighbor Denise and asked her if we could do something for her. She asked us to run to the store for some butter. Happily, we obliged. On the way back, another neighbor handed me a bag out of the blue.

"Here, take this."

Organic peppers. Organic broccoli.
I said, "I can't take this! Don't you need it?"
He replied, "Nope. Besides, you're doing something for someone. I overheard you and Denise talking."

Not thinking anything else of it, I went to church last night. Made it a point to be friendly to everyone. Talked to a lady who had been at Bible Study the previous week but I hadn't really noticed. Turns out our daughters are friends. How had I not noticed this?

Today, I decided to keep on serving others. I was friendly to everyone I talked to. (Apparently, this isn't always the norm for me. What's WRONG with me?) Ella and I helped a neighbor harvest flower seeds.

The seeds. When they are planted, and grow, they will turn into these yellow and orange flowers

 

Aren't they beautiful?

 

I texted my Sunday School teacher to check in. We talked gardening and she told me she would be in my area in about 30 minutes. What on earth for? She brought over some cabbage, potatoes, zucchini and kale...and....

 

 

I now have two arrangements gracing my kitchen table. Aren't they lovely?

 

When I made up my mind to commit to serving others, I let go of my selfish notions of what others should be doing for me. And then...I didn't feel unappreciated. I felt loved. Not because people did things for me, that was something that happened by God's grace, and unexpectedly...but because I saw that one small act from me actually made a difference to someone.

 

My attitude while helping someone made a world of difference, both to me and the person in question. What we do needs to be wrapped in love, whether we're running to the store for someone, or folding yet ANOTHER load of laundry.

 

After all, everything God does for us is wrapped in His love, isn't it?

Lessons Learned the Hard Way: Breaking "the rules"

When I was a kid, my outfits were critiqued harshly by my mother and oldest sister.
My mother had a set of rules for me, because unlike the stick thin oldest sister (she's beautiful!), I was practically born with curves that made said sister refer to me (lovingly, I hope) as the "chubby" sister.

In sixth or seventh grade, I starved myself. I wouldn't eat lunch at school for the longest time, until my Dad got a call from the school nurse who was worried about me. That led to a lecture about how I'm "not fat." Dad said his piece, and I went on thinking I was fat.

My mother told me...

*don't wear white, it makes you look fat
*don't wear red, it makes you look fat
*don't put your hair back without bangs, it makes your face look chubby.

Reading the Bible has slowly broken through those barriers put up by my mother, and sister, and the world in general. I am His child. He decides what's best for me. As long as my clothes are glorifying Him, as long as they are an outward profession of my inside faith...He does not care what color I wear.

Today, I broke every single one of the "rules."

I wore white. I wore red.

 

 

I pulled all of my hair off my face.

And you know what?

At church, I had a dozen people tell me how pretty I look.

I live for Him.
I dress to go to His house, for Him.
He makes the rules.
Not my mother.
Not my sister.
My Savior.

Lessons Learned the Hard Way: On Parenting

This week has been ROUGH, let me tell ya.

From Ella still recovering from this cold/sinus/whatever to me not feeling well to our weather going completely insane here in the great state of North Carolina...

it's been one of those hard-to-homeschool, whiny-kid, snappy-mom weeks.

It all led to me sitting at the kitchen table last night, Bible in hand, thinking, "I am a horrible parent. I suck as a mom." I prayed about it. Asked God to make me better.

This morning, as I left for work, I promised myself..."Today will be different. Today, I will smile instead of snapping. Today, I will listen instead of talking. Today will be better."

When I returned from work, we set right to work on her lessons. My attitude toward Ella today was different than yesterday. Today, I didn't get exasperated. Today, I smiled a lot and didn't snap.

Today, school flew by.

Today, whining was nonexistent.

After school, we went to the library, and read a book about snails. We found out that snails are either "left handed" or "right handed", depending on which way the opening of the shell turns. Most snails, like most people, are right handed. A few snails are left-handed.

We went to the river, and found a (left handed) snail shell. We talked, and reconnected.

Ella told me she loves spending time with me.

Will there be days when I snap? Probably.

Will there ever be a day when I don't love this kid?

Never.

Parenthood is so hard sometimes. For both the parent and the child.

As long as you keep your relationship grounded in the Lord and keep in the Bible (we read a nightly devotional together from here) , it will be much easier when things get rough.

Lessons Learned the Hard Way: Why You Can't Just "Read the Bible".

In June of 2011, I decided I was going to read through the Bible in a year. And then, satisified that I had done it, I was going to put it away on a shelf somewhere and never look at it again.

I had been out of the Catholic church since late 2005, and out of church altogether since 2009.

A bit of background for you: I left the Catholic church halfway through my pregnancy with Ella. The church had been less than understanding about Riley's death, and my subsequent pregnancy. I was unmarried at the time. I was also one of the teacher's in their school. Note: they didn't ask me to leave. I left despite their promising me a raise if I stayed.

I'm not even sure what prompted me to start reading the Bible, only that two summers prior, I found a lot of solace in Matthew 6 (the do-not-worry verses).

So, I made my decision. I started with my husband's Bible that had a few of his notes written in it.

I read faithfully every day. At some point I started taking notes.

When June 2012 rolled around, I felt a sense of accomplishment. Yes! I was done!

Only....I couldn't put the Bible down. I started reading again. With Genesis.

The 2012-2013 cycle of my reading was a huge eye-opener for me. I only missed one day. July 26th, 2012. I was on a surgery table. I woke up the following morning, with the words, "Oh no! I didn't read last night!"

That year, God began to work in my heart about my marriage. About the vows I was pretty much forsaking and throwing away. About being a godly wife, a godly woman, a godly mother.

In June 2013, someone asked me if I was going to keep reading. Yes.

I started off with a mostly brand-new Bible, with very few notes scribbled in the margins in Gabe's handwriting. I am now two Bibles in, both of which look pretty much like this.

The girl I was in June 2011 no longer exists. I realize you cannot just "read" the Bible, without it changing your life.

Lessons Learned the Hard Way: Learning my Role

Once upon a time, I was a young(er) Mom, and I made way more money than I do now.

I had a good (but stressful) job and all the bills were paid with money to spare.

And my marriage and family life were in shambles.

My husband resented me, and I resented him right back. At one point, I can honestly say I hated my marriage. We looked like a cute couple, but our marriage was a huge sham.

I was too busy to pay attention to my child and missed almost all of her one-year "firsts."

I was so stressed out, my health suffered.

Flash forward about six years, I have a good (less stress, but less pay) job that I love, my marriage is without a doubt the best it has EVER been, and my daughter lovingly refers to me as her "best friend forever and ever."

So, what changed?

God changed ME.

During my working-80-hour weeks, I received a phone call from my Dad, warning me that I should "think about what I am doing and spend more time at home." I walked away from that phone call with my feelings hurt, thinking that my father did not want me to succeed.

Guess what?

Dad was right.

God created a woman to be her husband's helpmeet (Genesis 2:18), to care for him, and their (eventual) children.

I took (still do!) great pride in my (paid) work, but my homelife suffered terribly. Many of my friends who know just how bad--it wasn't pretty!!!-- my marriage got are quick to blame my husband. "He was a jerk" (well, sometimes), he had a drinking problem (that too!), he didn't "treat me right" (how COULD he? I was never home!)...but it was at LEAST half my fault.

I wish I could say that I got saved by God's grace (I did!) and wham! Everything changed.

Nooooope.

It took almost two years of my nose in the Bible, day in and day out to realize something.

I'm a hypocrite. And not the wife and mother I should be.

And so, I started with baby steps.

Complimenting my husband instead of berating him.

Stopping life long enough to pay attention to my daughter.

Taking charge of my daughter's education.

Taking pride in not just my work, but in my HOME LIFE.

We used to eat takeout ALL.THE.TIME. Until we moved to North Carolina, I had never cooked a full meal. True story.

Here's another thing. See that ring? No, it's not my wedding band, but somehow after 2 pregnancies, my weight went DOWN so much that my wedding band no longer fits...my point, however, is that I almost never wore it. I didn't want to think of myself as married "to that guy." That ring is a nice replacement, until I either find someone to (further) size down my 4.5 wedding band. My relationship with Gabe? Better than ever. Whenever I see him doubting God ( 1 Corinthians 7:14), I try my best to build him up, and he does the same for me. I'm proud to be his wife.

I almost never kept a plant alive in our early (read: BAD) years of marriage. Even something that small has changed.

Six years ago, I was a terrible role model to my daughter. Not because I worked, but because I didn't take care of my family the way I should have. Remember, even the Proverbs wife worked!!! I'm still not where I should be, but by the grace of God, I'm not where I was.

I'm not saying women shouldn't be successful. I'm not saying we shouldn't work or earn money. I'm not saying wives cannot be breadwinners. I am merely asking anyone who reads this to learn from my mistakes.

Sadly, it took most of the time I've been married, but I am slowly learning my role: as my husband's helpmeet and as my daughter's example.

Lessons Learned the Hard Way: On Forgiveness (and its many forms)

When I was a little girl, age 5-8, I remember going to my Aunt Stacy's house. She was my godmother. I absolutely adored Aunt Stacy, and she felt the same way about me. My parents would take me to her apartment and I remember playing on the balcony with my cousin Agatha and eating fruit salad.

Somewhere, there is a picture of me in a Communion dress (I grew up Catholic, remember?), standing in my Grandma's backyard with Aunt Stacy. I thought she was the most awesome woman in the universe, with really cool curly hair and awesome jewelry.

We kept in touch after my Dad moved us to America. She sent heartfelt cards to me and I felt really, really loved.

The year I turned 14 all hell broke loose. My grandpa died after a heart attack. When he died, my grandmother was in the hospital, fighting cancer for the second time. I can't imagine how awful it was for her to be there, ailing and alone, after her husband of 50-something years had died.

One weekend, we called my Grandma at the hospital, and she sounded good. Really, really good. Hopeful. My Dad made plans to bring her to America as soon as remission hit. Two weeks later, she was gone.

During a phone call to oversee the pickup of Grandma's belongings, I found out that Aunt Stacy had been in to see her. How sweet, I thought. What she had said to Grandma was not so sweet.

"You're better off dying. Nobody is going to want to take you in. You are just a burden."

It was like a switch went off. I refused to take Aunt Stacy's phone calls. On September 11, 2001 she made the mistake of calling the house while I was home and I let her have it. Other than that one outburst in which I called her everything but the kitchen sink, I haven't said a word to her.

She doesn't know I'm married to a wonderful man.

She has no idea I have two daughters.

She has never seen a picture of Ella.

Sunday night, with pen in hand, I sat on my couch with a Bible on my lap and wrote her a letter. Told her I was sorry for not keeping in touch. Told her about my husband, children, and a walk with God. I am sending pictures so she can put faces with names. I want to repair that relationship. Life is short.

Monday morning, I woke up to some disturbing news. Someone I had trusted, someone my family had trusted had lied to us. For months. Finances were involved. We won't go there. Long story short, I confronted this person and was met with more lies.

After spending most of the day trying to get the situation under control, alternately angry and crying, I collapsed on the bed, next to my husband and explained, in a fit of tears how stupid I felt for ever trusting this person. How I was so angry. How I would never forgive them.

And then he said something which made me remember why HE is the head of our household, and the leader of our little family unit.

"Forgiveness is not for them. Forgiveness is for you. Just because you forgive (insert name here) you have to forget about what happened. You've just learned an extremely valuable lesson about trust."

Of course, Gabe is right. (See what I said about him being head of household?)

God wants me to forgive. So I am. It does not mean that I have to keep company with anyone who hurts me or betrays me, in any way. I have to love them. I do not have to love what they did.

Forgiveness is so very, very important. I teach my daughter not to hold grudges. I teach her to forgive if someone hurts her. I teach her to love others, even if it has to be from a distance.

Life's too short to let other people steal your joy.
Forgive them.
Move on.
Have a blessed and beautiful day!

Lessons Learned the Hard Way: On Modesty

Have you ever looked at a picture of yourself and positively cringed? I sure have. Have you ever looked at a picture and said "Why did I wear that?" Guilty! I was sitting down the other day, going through my pictures and saw a few that I know I won't be thrilled with my daughter looking at.

See that? If you look super close, you will see that I am indeed wearing a top. (see the halter string?) Classy, huh? I swear, that picture makes me cringe. I wish I could say I was 15 or 16 when this was taken. Nope. Not so. 21, going on 22. Argh. There's something to be said for modesty, trust me. I had a guy ask me out once. I turned him down. He said, "Well, I figured you'd be up for a good time. I've seen the way you dress." Ugh!!!!!! I wish I could tell you that I stopped making bad fashion choices when I had children. Um....

Not so much. My daughter here is graciously covering up my way, way, way too low neckline. Are there more horribly embarrassing and cringeworthy pics? You betcha. Am I going to post them? Not on your life, buddy. This may beg the question of: what were you thinking when you wore those particular outfits? I wanted to be attractive. I wanted attention. I didn't know I would get THAT kind of attention. I was raised by a well-meaning mother, who would critique my fashion choices harshly. I don't hold that against her now, but at the time I rebelled. (hence the way too low necklines and cringeworthy nearly-naked tops) This brings us to now....

Yes. That is a skirt. Yes. It reaches my ankles. No. I don't wear ankle-length skirts every day. As a matter of fact, most of the time I'm in jeans and a t-shirt. I've learned a few things. One, long skirts and dressing modestly is not only for crazy, Bible-thumping  Baptists (the fact that I am a crazy, Bible-thumping Baptist means nothing here...hehe). Two, I was born to be curvy and will never apologize for that. God made me this way. BUUUUT...nobody except my husband needs to see THAT much of me. I know the curves are there, he knows they are there, they don't need to be on display for everyone and their brother to see. I still have a shape, I promise.

Yes, I probably weigh more than I did in my pre-kids days. But you know what? I respect me more. My husband respects me more. And you know what else? I have a daughter now. She SO doesn't need to see her Mama running around town in low-riders and a crop top. (Can you imagine? Yikes...) If you can do that, more power to you. That's just not who I am anymore. I've taught my daughter to "dress for Jesus", and have caught tons of backlash for it. In the end, she is my daughter. She's made her choice.

Reading the Bible has everything to do with my choice to "tone it down." God created me to glorify Him, and I can promise you, wearing short-shorts and a bikini top to the grocery store with my kid in tow doesn't glorify my Savior. But that's just my point of view :)