30.12.15
Christmas Memories
As apart of my childhood, Christmas probably has the most treasured memories. Memories I hope to experience once more with my daughter and husband. There are smells and sights that bring a smile as I recall the warmth.
My extended family on my mother's side was close. The first and second cousins would gather at my great aunt's house to make Christmas ornaments. Following a recipe of water, flour, and salt to make dough allowed sculpting that was then baked in the oven. Once complete the painting began. My mother still hangs my very first creation, a white gingerbread man with green pants, on her Christmas tree. It usually receives an honorary spot, an artifact that cannot be missed or damaged.
For years when my family lived close to my great grandmother we wondered her property searching for the perfect cedar Christmas tree. My mother was always in charge of decorating Grandmother's tree for the Christmas dinner/Grandmother's birthday party, so we searched for her as well. Cedars are no Fraser Firs therefore discovering a lustrous tree, muchness two, was not an easy task. But I loved hiking through the overgrown family farm stepping on history of a glass bottle or a long ago decade cow skull. My mom and I were dedicated explores and would not disappoint the family.
Then there was decorating the tree. One year I remember mom had just purchased Paul Simon's Graceland and Tracy Chapman on vinyl. We rocked out starting with the lights using the old strands with the threaded glass bulbs then carefully arranged each ornament in its perfect place. When all was finished Mom placed her favorite Christmas album on the turntable and sent me and my sister to bed. She turned out all the lights in the house except for the tree's and I feel to sleep to the Little Drummer Boy sung by a choir. The album has been passed to me.
When visiting my dad's parents it was tradition to drive thirty minutes to see a man's house who knew how to celebrate a festive Christmas. With about an acre of yard property and a loop driveway the place could probably be seen from space due to all the lights. We would wait our turn in line driving slowly hoping to notice a new attraction. Lights, robotics, music, glitter. All the Christmas themes were covered from Santa Claus and Rudolph to elves and presents to the nativity scene. On special occasions my Grandaddy would stop by the owner's house to visit his friend. If it is possible, the inside of the house was more gouty than the outside covered in Christmas lights and tinsel. On the drive home Grandaddy would offer to drive by other homes, but no one could compare to his friend's home.
For several years my parents were apart of a group with church that met in their homes during the week. Around Christmas someone living in a subdivision (I qualify this because the first ten years of my life I lived on a country road) would host a party. Chili was usually the meal of choice. My mother with great patience would make hot chocolate with powder cocoa. To me it took great patience because of the amount of time to prepare the chocolaty treat, but first everyone gathered outside with songbooks at hand ready to carol to surrounding neighbors. There was always looks of astonishment as the owner opened their front door to see a crowd of people singing Christmas carols in their lawn. Then, like the peace of Christmas fell upon them and the beauty of Christ turned their mouth into a smile. After two or so hours of walking in the cold the long awaited hot cocoa beckoned us home.
Probably the only tradition I have continued since my childhood is the Christmas card. My father had once been an art director for an advertising agency, which allowed access to to studios and photographers. Every year out did the previous year. Sugarplum fairies, reindeer, elves, falling Christmas trees. Well, when I was in college I started my own collection of Christmas greetings. Some were misunderstood dressed in a dark hoodie. Others were beloved reuniting the sugarplum fairies as Victoria Secret models with my sister's attendance. My husband joined the tradition as well as my daughter. Every year puzzles the question, "Can they send out another memorable card?"
My greatest Christmas memory turned into tradition was the Christmas Eve candlelight service. At the age of 14 I had declared Jesus as my savior. The following Christmas was magical. For whatever reason my family never attended a candlelight service until 1994. I grew up in the church and was very familiar with Jesus, Joseph and Mary, but as a new Believer the story suddenly had new meaning. After an evening of singing Christmas carols and reading scripture the service came to a close with lighting the candles and singing 'Silent Night.' The only lights in the church were candlelights. A room full of people full of light illuminating their faces. It was glorious. Then the pastor asked us to blow out our candles. Total darkness. The pastor announced this is the world without Jesus. Silence.
I am not sure what traditions I want to start or pursue with my daughter. A candlelight service will probably be a must. This year we worked on an advent calendar with chocolate behind each door. The birth and celebration of Jesus will definitely be told. My favorite book thus far has been reading "The Tale of Three Trees" by Hunt/Jonke. As my daughter gets older we will probably do more creative crafts. Whatever we do the most important part is we do it as a family in love adoring the greatest gift of all time- Jesus.
My extended family on my mother's side was close. The first and second cousins would gather at my great aunt's house to make Christmas ornaments. Following a recipe of water, flour, and salt to make dough allowed sculpting that was then baked in the oven. Once complete the painting began. My mother still hangs my very first creation, a white gingerbread man with green pants, on her Christmas tree. It usually receives an honorary spot, an artifact that cannot be missed or damaged.
For years when my family lived close to my great grandmother we wondered her property searching for the perfect cedar Christmas tree. My mother was always in charge of decorating Grandmother's tree for the Christmas dinner/Grandmother's birthday party, so we searched for her as well. Cedars are no Fraser Firs therefore discovering a lustrous tree, muchness two, was not an easy task. But I loved hiking through the overgrown family farm stepping on history of a glass bottle or a long ago decade cow skull. My mom and I were dedicated explores and would not disappoint the family.
Then there was decorating the tree. One year I remember mom had just purchased Paul Simon's Graceland and Tracy Chapman on vinyl. We rocked out starting with the lights using the old strands with the threaded glass bulbs then carefully arranged each ornament in its perfect place. When all was finished Mom placed her favorite Christmas album on the turntable and sent me and my sister to bed. She turned out all the lights in the house except for the tree's and I feel to sleep to the Little Drummer Boy sung by a choir. The album has been passed to me.
When visiting my dad's parents it was tradition to drive thirty minutes to see a man's house who knew how to celebrate a festive Christmas. With about an acre of yard property and a loop driveway the place could probably be seen from space due to all the lights. We would wait our turn in line driving slowly hoping to notice a new attraction. Lights, robotics, music, glitter. All the Christmas themes were covered from Santa Claus and Rudolph to elves and presents to the nativity scene. On special occasions my Grandaddy would stop by the owner's house to visit his friend. If it is possible, the inside of the house was more gouty than the outside covered in Christmas lights and tinsel. On the drive home Grandaddy would offer to drive by other homes, but no one could compare to his friend's home.
For several years my parents were apart of a group with church that met in their homes during the week. Around Christmas someone living in a subdivision (I qualify this because the first ten years of my life I lived on a country road) would host a party. Chili was usually the meal of choice. My mother with great patience would make hot chocolate with powder cocoa. To me it took great patience because of the amount of time to prepare the chocolaty treat, but first everyone gathered outside with songbooks at hand ready to carol to surrounding neighbors. There was always looks of astonishment as the owner opened their front door to see a crowd of people singing Christmas carols in their lawn. Then, like the peace of Christmas fell upon them and the beauty of Christ turned their mouth into a smile. After two or so hours of walking in the cold the long awaited hot cocoa beckoned us home.
Probably the only tradition I have continued since my childhood is the Christmas card. My father had once been an art director for an advertising agency, which allowed access to to studios and photographers. Every year out did the previous year. Sugarplum fairies, reindeer, elves, falling Christmas trees. Well, when I was in college I started my own collection of Christmas greetings. Some were misunderstood dressed in a dark hoodie. Others were beloved reuniting the sugarplum fairies as Victoria Secret models with my sister's attendance. My husband joined the tradition as well as my daughter. Every year puzzles the question, "Can they send out another memorable card?"
My greatest Christmas memory turned into tradition was the Christmas Eve candlelight service. At the age of 14 I had declared Jesus as my savior. The following Christmas was magical. For whatever reason my family never attended a candlelight service until 1994. I grew up in the church and was very familiar with Jesus, Joseph and Mary, but as a new Believer the story suddenly had new meaning. After an evening of singing Christmas carols and reading scripture the service came to a close with lighting the candles and singing 'Silent Night.' The only lights in the church were candlelights. A room full of people full of light illuminating their faces. It was glorious. Then the pastor asked us to blow out our candles. Total darkness. The pastor announced this is the world without Jesus. Silence.
I am not sure what traditions I want to start or pursue with my daughter. A candlelight service will probably be a must. This year we worked on an advent calendar with chocolate behind each door. The birth and celebration of Jesus will definitely be told. My favorite book thus far has been reading "The Tale of Three Trees" by Hunt/Jonke. As my daughter gets older we will probably do more creative crafts. Whatever we do the most important part is we do it as a family in love adoring the greatest gift of all time- Jesus.
22.12.15
Volunteers
I was raised in the Volunteer state of Tennessee gaining its nickname during the Mexican War to gain Texas territory in 1946. 30,000 soldiers volunteered their services in support of President James K. Polk.
I was fortunate to have parents who lived by example to volunteer their free time and money. My father was active in the church donating time with Sunday school, community outreaches, and graphic designs. He became involved with Prison Ministries befriending a man who though remorseful of his crime still had a debt to pay. My father never met a stranger adopting an international college student, becoming a sergeant father to inner city boys, and offering a helping hand to anyone in need. My mother has always had a nurturing heart. How many times had she opened her home to someone in transition? To a beloved elderly woman recovering from a hospital stay to recent college students just getting started to families moving to a new town.
My parents have been an awesome example of what it means to help our fellow man. Look around and there are organizations, foundations, centers, shelters everywhere depending on volunteer workers to get the job done. No money to donate. No matter because time is just as valuable.
That is my place at present. I have some extra time. I do not want to place my daughter in childcare. If I am volunteering Lucy comes too, right? Besides, I want her to have the exposure. We cannot focus exclusively on ourselves. We need to extend a helping hand or we will become self-centered. I want my daughter to see first hand helping others is much more rewarding than constantly seeking self-contentment.
After the whole Planned Parenthood video scandal I realized encouraging people to voice defunding the program is not enough. (Since this is my blog I get iterate my opinion. If Planned Parenthood is so important and precious then it should have no difficulty acquiring private donations to keep it operating, just like all the pregnancy centers manage to do. It simply is not ethical it use tax payers' money, most of whom disapprove to fund this organization.) I needed to get involved. A local pregnancy chapter called The New Life Center reaches out to women who have chosen to continue their pregnancy. There is focus on education and resources. Most importantly it is important to show the mother and father they are loved and they are not alone in the journey. The local support through churches and dedicated volunteers is astounding. There is no end to the amazing generosity. I feel very blessed to assist and know such loving people.
Then, rather by accident my daughter and I started volunteering at our closest animal rescue. After a few adjustments we now one evening a week clean the rooms and feed the cats. Lucy has taken quite a fancy to the cats throwing a ball to draw a prancing kitty's attention or scooping food for them. Again, the amount of help and support the shelter receives is astonishing. Day after day, week after week volunteers come in clean poop and pee, mop, groom, feed, and love these furry creatures with nothing in return apart from the satisfaction a life is being saved.
That is how it goes in this country. Volunteers trying to make the world a better place. Whether for a campaign or an endangered habitat. For recycling or disease/cancer awareness. Bee clubs or quilt clubs. Libraries or education. For refugees or rehab meetings. Bike rallies or homeless outreaches. There are medical aid, missionaries, and humanitarian efforts. All necessary. All driven by love and concern. It is one more reason that makes our country unique. It is one more reason we should cherish our humanity.
I was fortunate to have parents who lived by example to volunteer their free time and money. My father was active in the church donating time with Sunday school, community outreaches, and graphic designs. He became involved with Prison Ministries befriending a man who though remorseful of his crime still had a debt to pay. My father never met a stranger adopting an international college student, becoming a sergeant father to inner city boys, and offering a helping hand to anyone in need. My mother has always had a nurturing heart. How many times had she opened her home to someone in transition? To a beloved elderly woman recovering from a hospital stay to recent college students just getting started to families moving to a new town.
My parents have been an awesome example of what it means to help our fellow man. Look around and there are organizations, foundations, centers, shelters everywhere depending on volunteer workers to get the job done. No money to donate. No matter because time is just as valuable.
That is my place at present. I have some extra time. I do not want to place my daughter in childcare. If I am volunteering Lucy comes too, right? Besides, I want her to have the exposure. We cannot focus exclusively on ourselves. We need to extend a helping hand or we will become self-centered. I want my daughter to see first hand helping others is much more rewarding than constantly seeking self-contentment.
After the whole Planned Parenthood video scandal I realized encouraging people to voice defunding the program is not enough. (Since this is my blog I get iterate my opinion. If Planned Parenthood is so important and precious then it should have no difficulty acquiring private donations to keep it operating, just like all the pregnancy centers manage to do. It simply is not ethical it use tax payers' money, most of whom disapprove to fund this organization.) I needed to get involved. A local pregnancy chapter called The New Life Center reaches out to women who have chosen to continue their pregnancy. There is focus on education and resources. Most importantly it is important to show the mother and father they are loved and they are not alone in the journey. The local support through churches and dedicated volunteers is astounding. There is no end to the amazing generosity. I feel very blessed to assist and know such loving people.
Then, rather by accident my daughter and I started volunteering at our closest animal rescue. After a few adjustments we now one evening a week clean the rooms and feed the cats. Lucy has taken quite a fancy to the cats throwing a ball to draw a prancing kitty's attention or scooping food for them. Again, the amount of help and support the shelter receives is astonishing. Day after day, week after week volunteers come in clean poop and pee, mop, groom, feed, and love these furry creatures with nothing in return apart from the satisfaction a life is being saved.
That is how it goes in this country. Volunteers trying to make the world a better place. Whether for a campaign or an endangered habitat. For recycling or disease/cancer awareness. Bee clubs or quilt clubs. Libraries or education. For refugees or rehab meetings. Bike rallies or homeless outreaches. There are medical aid, missionaries, and humanitarian efforts. All necessary. All driven by love and concern. It is one more reason that makes our country unique. It is one more reason we should cherish our humanity.
It can be glory.
Genesis 3:7
Then their eyes were opened, and they both realized they were naked.
Genesis 3:22
Then the Lord God said. "The man has become like one of us, since he knows good and evil."
While meditating on these words I wondered could is it possible with the commandment to avoid the forbidden fruit God was trying to protect us from the harsh truth- we are no where near God's equal. He created us as his children for companionship. He wanted a loving relationship where all our needs are provided. Could the first sin, instead of disobeying God, actually be mistrusting him? We have convinced ourselves God wants to have dominion over us as an overbearing king. When in truth he never meant for us to realize our inferiority, our inequality.
It might be similar to an adopted child accidentally learning his parents are not his biologically. He suddenly feels estranged. He feels an outsider. I think for Adam and Eve eating the fruit of knowledge revealed how lowly they were and abruptly shame was experienced while in God's presence. However, the adopting parents love their son. They have invested time and resources to the child. God adores his creations and wants to have daily interaction and community. He wanted to lavish provisions and encouragement, but for man that was not enough. In trying to gain greater knowledge man learned how superior God is and how minute man is. That mistake created sin that could not be within God's presence. His glory simply could not all it.
Tough love, discipline, sacrifice were grafted into humanity until the solution could redeem his people. Jesus' goals once more no matter how great his deity and how obscure our rank shows he still loves us and wants to be a father and friend.
Over time we have found new gods, but proving our self-worth, relevance, continues to be our demise. God is not this power hungry blood thirty demon we are deceived to believing. The same lie for thousands of years repeats itself over and over. In trying to prove our higher intelligence and superiority to archaic mythology the truth repeats itself. We do not have all the answers. We can not visualize the whole spectrum. We are not masters of our destiny. How much longer, how many more sacrifices will it take to convince his creation they we are made in love and he will do anything to rescue his children. We do not have to fight God to prove our rank. He has lifted us higher than we deserve. In combating him we only create a wider wedge just like Adam and Eve removed from his presence.
However, Jesus is our solution to regain admittance before the presence of God allowing our design to be complete. Once again, God sent our salvation, not as an all powerful king or extravagant dominating ruler, but a humble unassuming servant. He was a leader by serving first. Not in riches lavished with gold or expensive stone. He used his hands, whether building or healing, and reached out to anyone who would listen. Jesus, the great I am, brought himself down to our level to love and restore.
We will not understand him. The big picture will probably not be clear, but God has his reasons that are perfect and true.
Then their eyes were opened, and they both realized they were naked.
Genesis 3:22
Then the Lord God said. "The man has become like one of us, since he knows good and evil."
While meditating on these words I wondered could is it possible with the commandment to avoid the forbidden fruit God was trying to protect us from the harsh truth- we are no where near God's equal. He created us as his children for companionship. He wanted a loving relationship where all our needs are provided. Could the first sin, instead of disobeying God, actually be mistrusting him? We have convinced ourselves God wants to have dominion over us as an overbearing king. When in truth he never meant for us to realize our inferiority, our inequality.
It might be similar to an adopted child accidentally learning his parents are not his biologically. He suddenly feels estranged. He feels an outsider. I think for Adam and Eve eating the fruit of knowledge revealed how lowly they were and abruptly shame was experienced while in God's presence. However, the adopting parents love their son. They have invested time and resources to the child. God adores his creations and wants to have daily interaction and community. He wanted to lavish provisions and encouragement, but for man that was not enough. In trying to gain greater knowledge man learned how superior God is and how minute man is. That mistake created sin that could not be within God's presence. His glory simply could not all it.
Tough love, discipline, sacrifice were grafted into humanity until the solution could redeem his people. Jesus' goals once more no matter how great his deity and how obscure our rank shows he still loves us and wants to be a father and friend.
Over time we have found new gods, but proving our self-worth, relevance, continues to be our demise. God is not this power hungry blood thirty demon we are deceived to believing. The same lie for thousands of years repeats itself over and over. In trying to prove our higher intelligence and superiority to archaic mythology the truth repeats itself. We do not have all the answers. We can not visualize the whole spectrum. We are not masters of our destiny. How much longer, how many more sacrifices will it take to convince his creation they we are made in love and he will do anything to rescue his children. We do not have to fight God to prove our rank. He has lifted us higher than we deserve. In combating him we only create a wider wedge just like Adam and Eve removed from his presence.
However, Jesus is our solution to regain admittance before the presence of God allowing our design to be complete. Once again, God sent our salvation, not as an all powerful king or extravagant dominating ruler, but a humble unassuming servant. He was a leader by serving first. Not in riches lavished with gold or expensive stone. He used his hands, whether building or healing, and reached out to anyone who would listen. Jesus, the great I am, brought himself down to our level to love and restore.
We will not understand him. The big picture will probably not be clear, but God has his reasons that are perfect and true.
6.12.15
Thankful
Thankful for my gracious heavenly father.
Thankful for Jesus' love and undeniable sacrifice.
Thankful for my adoring husband.
Thankful for his provision.
Thankful for an enthusiastic daughter.
Thankful for daily lessons ending with smiles and giggles.
Thankful for health that allows to me to thrive.
Thankful for family continually to support.
Thankful for prayer that offers healing.
Thankful for Jesus' love and undeniable sacrifice.
Thankful for my adoring husband.
Thankful for his provision.
Thankful for an enthusiastic daughter.
Thankful for daily lessons ending with smiles and giggles.
Thankful for health that allows to me to thrive.
Thankful for family continually to support.
Thankful for prayer that offers healing.
9.11.15
Mawage
Mawage. Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday. Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam...
And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva...
So tweasure your wuv.
-Clergymen from The Princess Bride
In todays realm the American image of marriage is a difficult imbalance of healthiness especially, amongst the whispers of feminism and 50 Shades of Grey clashing with the ideal woman. Be strong and independent. Be sexy and horny. Mix in an instinct of nurturer and gather and a very confused woman manifests. Add a husband and some kids and there is some real potential for a dysfunctional family.
My husband and I just celebrated our 6th anniversary, which was, well... just okay. We returned to the Smoky Mountains that harbors our small wedding chapel. It was a rainy for the majority of our stay. A fact that could have been overlooked, however my husband and daughter both had runny noses with sore throats. Suffice to say, most of our time was spent inside trying to remain cordial with one another. It was not miserable, feeling remorseful for my husband's health, but it will probably not be a weekend to remember.
These past 19 months have been a constant adjustment as parents and as a married couple. I want to play super woman pretending I can do it all, but by the time my husband returns from work I do not want to lavish him in kisses because I miss him. I want to hand over the little monster so I can get dinner started. By the time it is bedtime for my daughter I should be relishing for intimate time with my husband, but I am hoping he is too tired so I can tackle my incomplete chores in the wee hours of the night. On weekends, my husband I and love nap time allowing us to work together or apart outside.
I want to feel ashamed for this lack of affection then I talk to other women/mothers/wives and understand I am not all that strange. Other women struggle with intimacy, moodiness, and contempt. We still recognize our love and thankfulness for our husbands, yet there is this inner conflict, a tug-of-war, between attempting to be a good mom and an emotional strung out wife. Our husbands should always come first, but they are always last. The interaction a married couple have is usually towards the end of the day. The wife is emotionally spent. The husband is left to relate with her leftover remnants. It is hardly fair, but what else does she have to offer?
Honestly, I wish all women/mothers made homemaking their profession and lived in a commune. The mothers would have total authority and responsibility of their child's rearing. Living in community everyone shares in the mental stability. Even I who stay at home need a break. I could ask another mother, "I need two hours to myself. Can you cover Lucy? I'll trade with you tomorrow." Also by living in community, I can watch the more experienced moms learning their tactics. What works and what does not.
Instead, I think I am Supermom. But I'm not. How many times has someone offered to watch Lucy for me? I worry she might cause a ruckus. How many times have I offered to watch other parents' kids? I think they worry their kids would overwhelm me.
I look at some moms and I can instantly recognize who is seamlessly designed for motherhood. Their role as a mother is effortless parenting like a work of art in motion. Four, five, six. The number of children does not matter. They know how to discipline. They know how to adjust for circumstances. They know how to encourage and quick to react lovely in every action. And the relationship with their husband reflects the same harmony. I can almost immediately discern who has a selfless marriage by the mother's temperament towards her children.
Then there are the moms who appear completely deflated overwhelmed by whining screaming demands. The inner struggle can be seen as lifelessness in their eyes desperate for an indefinite intermission. They are worn and dried up tired of wearing a fake smile. Seeing the hurt and discouragement draws attention towards the suffering marriage.
I do not want to be a hallow form hoping for the day to end. Especially after only one kid. My main objective should be to serve my husband. He needs to be first. All the the family counselors will agree the couple is the core. If the marriage is healthy and joy binds the couple together the family as a whole is tightly bond. Want good kids? Make sure you are happy with your husband.
I looked through the camera to load photos for this post and I found two photos of just my husband and me. One shot accidentally cropped out my daughter. So one intentional photo of my husband and I for an entire year. I am not sure we even look happy. More like a defeated simper. We are selfish creatures. We focus on ourselves and our problems and our accomplishments. When we become boggled down we forget we are a team. We are not living for ourselves. We are living for each other. A cohesive tool stronger together than apart. My husband enhances me and I enhance him.
I could say I really need to try to make my marriage better for the sake of my daughter. But that would be my first mistake. I have been blessed with an awesome man who treasures me, is devoted to me, and loves me flaws and all. There are not enough words to describe the wonderful qualities of my husband. Our biggest hinderance is good communication. Our greatest asset is working together. We adore one another and our daughter is the product of that love. We are two imperfect humans learning every day. I pray the commitment and patience never runs dry because I am looking forward to growing old with my husband. Sitting on the porch swing arguing who has the best memory or where I left my teeth. We will walk laps around the farm poking fun at one another as we hold hands telling stories we have heard before a hundred time.
Most marriages do not end with a sunset complimented with a blissful kiss. There are chapters of good times and bad. My husband is my perfect match a fact I never want to take for granted. Purposeful effort is required. Truthful intent must be practiced. We are our daughter's closest example of enduring love. In a world full of divorce and substitutes she needs to believe steadfastness with joy is possible.
And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva...
So tweasure your wuv.
-Clergymen from The Princess Bride
In todays realm the American image of marriage is a difficult imbalance of healthiness especially, amongst the whispers of feminism and 50 Shades of Grey clashing with the ideal woman. Be strong and independent. Be sexy and horny. Mix in an instinct of nurturer and gather and a very confused woman manifests. Add a husband and some kids and there is some real potential for a dysfunctional family.
My husband and I just celebrated our 6th anniversary, which was, well... just okay. We returned to the Smoky Mountains that harbors our small wedding chapel. It was a rainy for the majority of our stay. A fact that could have been overlooked, however my husband and daughter both had runny noses with sore throats. Suffice to say, most of our time was spent inside trying to remain cordial with one another. It was not miserable, feeling remorseful for my husband's health, but it will probably not be a weekend to remember.
These past 19 months have been a constant adjustment as parents and as a married couple. I want to play super woman pretending I can do it all, but by the time my husband returns from work I do not want to lavish him in kisses because I miss him. I want to hand over the little monster so I can get dinner started. By the time it is bedtime for my daughter I should be relishing for intimate time with my husband, but I am hoping he is too tired so I can tackle my incomplete chores in the wee hours of the night. On weekends, my husband I and love nap time allowing us to work together or apart outside.
I want to feel ashamed for this lack of affection then I talk to other women/mothers/wives and understand I am not all that strange. Other women struggle with intimacy, moodiness, and contempt. We still recognize our love and thankfulness for our husbands, yet there is this inner conflict, a tug-of-war, between attempting to be a good mom and an emotional strung out wife. Our husbands should always come first, but they are always last. The interaction a married couple have is usually towards the end of the day. The wife is emotionally spent. The husband is left to relate with her leftover remnants. It is hardly fair, but what else does she have to offer?
Honestly, I wish all women/mothers made homemaking their profession and lived in a commune. The mothers would have total authority and responsibility of their child's rearing. Living in community everyone shares in the mental stability. Even I who stay at home need a break. I could ask another mother, "I need two hours to myself. Can you cover Lucy? I'll trade with you tomorrow." Also by living in community, I can watch the more experienced moms learning their tactics. What works and what does not.
Instead, I think I am Supermom. But I'm not. How many times has someone offered to watch Lucy for me? I worry she might cause a ruckus. How many times have I offered to watch other parents' kids? I think they worry their kids would overwhelm me.
I look at some moms and I can instantly recognize who is seamlessly designed for motherhood. Their role as a mother is effortless parenting like a work of art in motion. Four, five, six. The number of children does not matter. They know how to discipline. They know how to adjust for circumstances. They know how to encourage and quick to react lovely in every action. And the relationship with their husband reflects the same harmony. I can almost immediately discern who has a selfless marriage by the mother's temperament towards her children.
Then there are the moms who appear completely deflated overwhelmed by whining screaming demands. The inner struggle can be seen as lifelessness in their eyes desperate for an indefinite intermission. They are worn and dried up tired of wearing a fake smile. Seeing the hurt and discouragement draws attention towards the suffering marriage.
I do not want to be a hallow form hoping for the day to end. Especially after only one kid. My main objective should be to serve my husband. He needs to be first. All the the family counselors will agree the couple is the core. If the marriage is healthy and joy binds the couple together the family as a whole is tightly bond. Want good kids? Make sure you are happy with your husband.
I could say I really need to try to make my marriage better for the sake of my daughter. But that would be my first mistake. I have been blessed with an awesome man who treasures me, is devoted to me, and loves me flaws and all. There are not enough words to describe the wonderful qualities of my husband. Our biggest hinderance is good communication. Our greatest asset is working together. We adore one another and our daughter is the product of that love. We are two imperfect humans learning every day. I pray the commitment and patience never runs dry because I am looking forward to growing old with my husband. Sitting on the porch swing arguing who has the best memory or where I left my teeth. We will walk laps around the farm poking fun at one another as we hold hands telling stories we have heard before a hundred time.
Most marriages do not end with a sunset complimented with a blissful kiss. There are chapters of good times and bad. My husband is my perfect match a fact I never want to take for granted. Purposeful effort is required. Truthful intent must be practiced. We are our daughter's closest example of enduring love. In a world full of divorce and substitutes she needs to believe steadfastness with joy is possible.
The journey
Today I dropped off my husband at the airport. He is traveling to Tokyo and then to Singapore. I six day journey with nearly four days of travel time. My husband wished me a good week and regret I cannot join him, but I am far from disappointment. The idea of twenty-fours hours spent on a plane with a 19 month old is hardly my idea of a good time. Six hours returning from Alaska might have caused me to loose my sanity as I hung my head in shame because of an inconsolable child. Though my daughter was well behaved flying to Alaska it was stressful making sure I was adequately prepared. Did I have enough diapers and wipes? Did I pack enough food, much less food she would like? Did I bring the right toys to keep her entertained during travel? So 24 hours of air time? No thank you.
Now, this mentality is strange for me because in college I had great aspirations of becoming a world traveler as a photojournalist. Of course, National Geographic had an influence, but being a contract photographer had its appeal as well. I would go anywhere for any amount of time constantly looking for cheap last minute flights ready to go in a moments notice. Needless to say my window of opportunity never opened or maybe I did not have the "right stuff." Instead I made compromises and new strategies and probably even settled. A whole new coarse was developed and now I am a stay-at-home mom.
Any regret? Absolutely not. I love my daughter and I love being the one she relays on for guidance and support. To me it is a very important job where I feel very honored to be graced with an amazing child and a wonderful husband who can provide for us.
The moment my husband learned about his opportunity to fly to Asia he spent three weeks in a flurry of excitement and preparation. He devoted hours researching Japanese customs and Singapore's rules. Particularly Singapore, worried he would wind up arrested for not having his shoes tied correctly or his hair parted the wrong direction. The night before his flight he could hardly sleep.
I totally understand his thrill. I went 48 hours without sleep on my way to Europe from the anticipation. I am happy for my husband having this opportunity to branch out past the U.S. borders. It makes me smirk seeing him full of wonder and butterflies. How many times has he asked me what I want as a souvenir? I truly hope he has an unforgettable trip.
Yet, there is this weird feeling inside me. It is not that I am jealous my husband is traveling without me. I am fairly certain it is not that I will be alone. It is not resentment towards my daughter as if she is holding me back. I am not thinking those thoughts at all. I do not want to travel long distance for a short period of time. I do not want to be crammed in a plane with other disease infested people. I do not want to worry about managing my way in a foreign country hoping not to get robbed. I do not even want to travel without my daughter.
What is wrong with me?!?!? This is not how I use to think. How many abandon warehouses have I trespassed? How many homeless have I assisted, including offering a ride? How many roads have I roamed long before ever owning a cell phone? Now all I can think of is the safety and wellbeing of my daughter.
That weird feeling inside is me wondering why I am not be ready to jump on a plane. Why have I allowed my passport to expire? Why I am not ready to drag my daughter anywhere I want to go?
The only answer I think is feasible is, my daughter comes first and, honestly, I am okay with that. I do not need to worry that I have changed. I have not lost my adventurous spirit. I look at my daughter as someone to share the adventures. I think I realize eventually she will be old enough to travel farther distances, strong enough to keep up with mommy, bold enough to attempt new heights. I am not settling, but rather preparing her for the journey. One day we will go to Europe then to Israel and hopefully to New Zealand and so forth. It does not matter if this comes to fruition or not. I may not be the great world traveler. I am content with who I am. If the Lord chooses to bless me with more foreign travel, especially for educational purposes for my daughter, I will gladly accept. Until then, I have a daughter to raise and hopefully perk her interests for the world around her.
Now, this mentality is strange for me because in college I had great aspirations of becoming a world traveler as a photojournalist. Of course, National Geographic had an influence, but being a contract photographer had its appeal as well. I would go anywhere for any amount of time constantly looking for cheap last minute flights ready to go in a moments notice. Needless to say my window of opportunity never opened or maybe I did not have the "right stuff." Instead I made compromises and new strategies and probably even settled. A whole new coarse was developed and now I am a stay-at-home mom.
Any regret? Absolutely not. I love my daughter and I love being the one she relays on for guidance and support. To me it is a very important job where I feel very honored to be graced with an amazing child and a wonderful husband who can provide for us.
The moment my husband learned about his opportunity to fly to Asia he spent three weeks in a flurry of excitement and preparation. He devoted hours researching Japanese customs and Singapore's rules. Particularly Singapore, worried he would wind up arrested for not having his shoes tied correctly or his hair parted the wrong direction. The night before his flight he could hardly sleep.
I totally understand his thrill. I went 48 hours without sleep on my way to Europe from the anticipation. I am happy for my husband having this opportunity to branch out past the U.S. borders. It makes me smirk seeing him full of wonder and butterflies. How many times has he asked me what I want as a souvenir? I truly hope he has an unforgettable trip.
Yet, there is this weird feeling inside me. It is not that I am jealous my husband is traveling without me. I am fairly certain it is not that I will be alone. It is not resentment towards my daughter as if she is holding me back. I am not thinking those thoughts at all. I do not want to travel long distance for a short period of time. I do not want to be crammed in a plane with other disease infested people. I do not want to worry about managing my way in a foreign country hoping not to get robbed. I do not even want to travel without my daughter.
What is wrong with me?!?!? This is not how I use to think. How many abandon warehouses have I trespassed? How many homeless have I assisted, including offering a ride? How many roads have I roamed long before ever owning a cell phone? Now all I can think of is the safety and wellbeing of my daughter.
That weird feeling inside is me wondering why I am not be ready to jump on a plane. Why have I allowed my passport to expire? Why I am not ready to drag my daughter anywhere I want to go?
The only answer I think is feasible is, my daughter comes first and, honestly, I am okay with that. I do not need to worry that I have changed. I have not lost my adventurous spirit. I look at my daughter as someone to share the adventures. I think I realize eventually she will be old enough to travel farther distances, strong enough to keep up with mommy, bold enough to attempt new heights. I am not settling, but rather preparing her for the journey. One day we will go to Europe then to Israel and hopefully to New Zealand and so forth. It does not matter if this comes to fruition or not. I may not be the great world traveler. I am content with who I am. If the Lord chooses to bless me with more foreign travel, especially for educational purposes for my daughter, I will gladly accept. Until then, I have a daughter to raise and hopefully perk her interests for the world around her.
2.11.15
Tricking and Treating
I do not know if I am getting older or severely out of touch, but when I was a kid I celebrated Halloween once in my classroom at school and on Halloween night. ( I think if Halloween fell on a Sunday Trick or Treating was practiced on Saturday night.) Now because of the Trunk or Treats from churches and schools and fire departments and whoever else a kid can bank on a hefty stash of candy prior to Halloween night. Like all the other holidays Halloween has gone beyond commercialized.
Because I grew up on a country road with few neighbors in between, my sister and I would meet up with our cousins at our grandparents' house for Trick or Treating. Typically, there was a meal and we always got a late start. My granny had this old family kitchen table with the pedestal cut down to serve as a coffee table. At the table we performed last minute make-up and after our treating was completed where we sorted our candy. There were neighbors known for their scary houses. Approaching the house carefully we would keep our guard up looking for anything suspicious, but ultimately we were scared silly. We tricked in rain, snow, and muggy nights. It was a dedicated tradition.
Then about the age of 10 my parents moved us to a newly developing neighborhood with few kids, which made for unsatisfactory treating. Of course as I and the cousins got too old to Trick or Treat we abandon our grandparents' neighborhood and I probably have not dressed up for the holiday since I was twelve.
As a Christian I have wondered about the sanctity of celebrating All Hallows Eve. My parents struggled with the issue as well. One year as a child we celebrated Halloween at church. I dressed as Esther. There are few options for female biblical characters. Now I am confronted what to do with my daughter.
I am leaning towards the thought that Halloween is fun. It is by choice to transform it into something evil. Halloween is a chance to dress up as someone other than ourselves. The character does not have to be scary or evil. How many Olafs and Elsas did I pass on the streets? Halloween can be a night to feel beautiful and majestic or powerful and dangerous. To live out a dream or fantasy and not worry about the criticism. Then to have complete strangers admire your character is the best complement of all.
Last Halloween when Lucy was 7 months old we skipped Trick or Treating, mostly because there was freezing rain. This year I have encouraged Lucy to be more active. I bought a Bee costume at a children's consignment store along with a crown and scepter hailing her the Queen Bee. My husband brought home a hardhat then I bought two fabric flowers to attach to the hardhat acting as my feelers along with buying wings declaring myself as the worker bee. The husband was to dress as the beekeeper, but he backed out at the last minute.
Forget the idea mommy and daddy get candy that a 19 month old should not eat. Forget my daughter really cannot say 'Trick or Treat.' (It sounds more like "Tree Tree.) Imagine instead how much fun we are having. It has been fun hearing Lucy say 'Please' with a sign for candy. It has been fun watching her waltz around the house with purple wings. It has been fun seeing her enjoyment from glow sticks whether as a wand or bracelet or necklace. It has been fun watching her new found independence walking to explore the Halloween decorations. It has even been fun washing the candy off her face and sticky fingers.
Every day Lucy is growing stronger with walking so it is a delight to see her participate in this season on two feet. It is my plan to take full advantage of this holiday. We have enjoyed festivities during Storytime at the library, our downtown center square, the local feed supply store, and the community center. When you are as cute as Lucy is it is important to show her off. Not to mention I have been trigger happy with my camera capturing all the wonderful expressions and memories.
Because I grew up on a country road with few neighbors in between, my sister and I would meet up with our cousins at our grandparents' house for Trick or Treating. Typically, there was a meal and we always got a late start. My granny had this old family kitchen table with the pedestal cut down to serve as a coffee table. At the table we performed last minute make-up and after our treating was completed where we sorted our candy. There were neighbors known for their scary houses. Approaching the house carefully we would keep our guard up looking for anything suspicious, but ultimately we were scared silly. We tricked in rain, snow, and muggy nights. It was a dedicated tradition.
Then about the age of 10 my parents moved us to a newly developing neighborhood with few kids, which made for unsatisfactory treating. Of course as I and the cousins got too old to Trick or Treat we abandon our grandparents' neighborhood and I probably have not dressed up for the holiday since I was twelve.
As a Christian I have wondered about the sanctity of celebrating All Hallows Eve. My parents struggled with the issue as well. One year as a child we celebrated Halloween at church. I dressed as Esther. There are few options for female biblical characters. Now I am confronted what to do with my daughter.
I am leaning towards the thought that Halloween is fun. It is by choice to transform it into something evil. Halloween is a chance to dress up as someone other than ourselves. The character does not have to be scary or evil. How many Olafs and Elsas did I pass on the streets? Halloween can be a night to feel beautiful and majestic or powerful and dangerous. To live out a dream or fantasy and not worry about the criticism. Then to have complete strangers admire your character is the best complement of all.
Last Halloween when Lucy was 7 months old we skipped Trick or Treating, mostly because there was freezing rain. This year I have encouraged Lucy to be more active. I bought a Bee costume at a children's consignment store along with a crown and scepter hailing her the Queen Bee. My husband brought home a hardhat then I bought two fabric flowers to attach to the hardhat acting as my feelers along with buying wings declaring myself as the worker bee. The husband was to dress as the beekeeper, but he backed out at the last minute.
Forget the idea mommy and daddy get candy that a 19 month old should not eat. Forget my daughter really cannot say 'Trick or Treat.' (It sounds more like "Tree Tree.) Imagine instead how much fun we are having. It has been fun hearing Lucy say 'Please' with a sign for candy. It has been fun watching her waltz around the house with purple wings. It has been fun seeing her enjoyment from glow sticks whether as a wand or bracelet or necklace. It has been fun watching her new found independence walking to explore the Halloween decorations. It has even been fun washing the candy off her face and sticky fingers.
Every day Lucy is growing stronger with walking so it is a delight to see her participate in this season on two feet. It is my plan to take full advantage of this holiday. We have enjoyed festivities during Storytime at the library, our downtown center square, the local feed supply store, and the community center. When you are as cute as Lucy is it is important to show her off. Not to mention I have been trigger happy with my camera capturing all the wonderful expressions and memories.
30.10.15
29.10.15
Hats
Lucy found my collection of hats. It was adorable watching her admire herself with each style of hat. A twenties swinger hat made Lucy looking like Dark Helmet from Spaceballs covering her eyes as she is bumped into doorways and walls. However, I have no pictures. Today was a lovely cool Autumn day and naturally thought it ideal to capture some photos of Lucy wearing the hats. Well... We started off well then the moment went from bad to worse. Maybe next time. Here are the highlights.
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