You are currently browsing the monthly archive for May 2008.
You see that i have not been doing much writing for a while. Probably the best explanation is that i have also not been doing much thinking. Well, that’s not true at all, but what i mean is that all my mental ramblings have been incomplete. The kind of situation i find myself in when i am not writing as much, the half-finished realizations and understandings.
Finally, though, a breakthrough. Let me give this disclaimer: it is a really obvious one; it will probably not look like a breakthrough to you. But sometimes, for me, no matter how much i know something, it takes one of those moments for me to really get it.
The other day I was doing something totally mindless, and my mind was all over all the place, starting to feel a little overwhelmed by all the things i need to be working on in my life. A major one, naturally, is my problem with finishing things. How is one to keep up with the process of trying to grow in so many areas at once? And then it hit me: that is the point of my one word; and that is precisely why i chose my word. To focus in on one thing, to be diligent. And i am sure i have the right one, because it contains several facets in which i need to be growing but simplifies them all, and drives me back to the Source of life and change.
A sigh of relief, and a well timed mid-year reminder.
It’s been a bit busy this week. Let me fill you in:
1) We did not buy a house. Oh, we almost did. We found it, made the offer, signed the contract, initiated all the processes, paperwork and headaches that are part of buying a house. But then, the inspection turned up a few things that needed fixing. The house is older than we are, so that wasn’t surprising. When we asked the seller to make the repairs (nothing major, just the stuff that presents fire hazards), they said that they would not make any repairs. And that was our deal-breaker. So, lots of legwork and we’re back (still!) to the blank slate.
2) We spent last Thursday packing the family for a week away and driving to Charlotte. Had dinner with the family and took the kids out for a bike ride. Cracked up at how adorable they are in helmets, knee- and elbow- pads, and the fact that Oliver is nowhere near able to reach the pedals.
3) Spent Friday driving up to northern Virginia, where you never know what will happen, and attending the perfectly beautiful wedding of a great couple with some good friends. We felt like we were either in a movie or a dream. Good stuff.
4) Spent Saturday driving back to Charlotte. All those 13 hours in the car over the weekend were the answer to my often-said prayer for a moment to talk to my husband in peace. Just like a niiiice looong date. Even if my feet were swollen by the time we got back. Spent the evening running some errands to get B ready for his relaxing surf trip to Costa Rica.
5) B departs long before dawn Sunday morning. I remain at my parents’ house to basically bum off them for the week. Restful and relaxing. Thanks, mom and dad! Meanwhile, less than 24 hours after arrival, Brian and his travel-mates are robbed of every possession but the surfboards under their feet and boardshorts on their behinds. The thieves actually cut the bars off the windows to get in.
Of course i promptly call and get our cards all closed. A couple hours later, B calls back to tell me they’ve found a bag thrown out on the driveway. It contains his check and credit cards and passport. Too bad they are already cut off. But good thing he can get home with his passport! Oh– and for added drama, the bad guys immediately used his business credit card to book a flight out of town (i had not thought to call them about the card being stolen, whoops) but the guys at work caught the charge immediately, leading to the thief being apprehended today as he arrived for his flight. Ha! Justice is served.
And finally 6) i think deserves it’s own number. Today, while reading the kids stories before naptime, Oliver crawled over, looked at me with mischief-full eyes, and headbutted me squarely in the nose. I did not see stars, but i did hear a crunching sound. That alone makes me feel a little woozy– what was that noise, anyway? And there was, to my surprise, no pouring of blood. Thank the Lord no black eyes, either. But there is some definite swelling on my face, and ouch.
So that’s where i am. So what’s new with you? I am missing my friends, being so far from home for so long.
I hate the power of advertising. I truly do. Where did my 3-year-old learn that Chuck E. Cheese is “where a kid can be a kid?” The television commercial, my friends. This makes me especially glad i am too cheap to ever get real cable: Don’t you remember all those glorious products marketed during your favorite childhood shows? The jingles you could still sing along to to this day? How most every week there was something new to covet and bug your parents about? Oh, i do. Though i don’t think it’s possible to entirely eliminate, i do not wish this in my household. Nope.
But how can i teach my child not to get sucked in to the power of the commercial when i, the responsible adult, fall prey? I’ve noticed that i now embody a distinct demographic that has always amused me, as portrayed on tv: the primary home-caretaker. You know all those commercials with ladies in mom-khakis gleefully vacuuming and scrubbing and disinfecting things, and then taking a big sniff of the newly-freshened air and smiling contentedly? I think they think they are portraying my kind– the at-home-mom kind. This was a little surprising to realize. I don’t think that i look the part; i don’t spend my days methodically and serenely straightening the house.
I quickly admit that my housekeeping standards are not the most stringent; maybe you already realized that if you read this post. In my defense, some things i just do not understand. I notice, in the life of the commercial housewife, that there is a great deal of sanitizing taking place. There is certainly a place for this; but the whole house? The very air filling the house?
And this may be obvious to you, if so you can explain it to me: The disinfecting of the entire toilet. Why is this neccesary? I mean, i certainly get what’s making it germy; i clean ‘em, i potty-train people, i see the issues involved. And the seat definitely needs some attention. But what is going on in people’s homes that requires germ-free toilet water? Of all of the functions for which i have ever known that bowl to be utilized, certainly none require potable water. Not even water fit for bathing or lawn-watering. Maybe this is more important for families who have dogs?
As for me, i do not get it. Call me crazy, but i’m not about to start trying to disinfect the air in my house. Or anything else, really, unless it’s been touched by a raw chicken or peed on by a kid.
i think i am experiencing a time of formation. Why do i think this? I have that feeling of being broken to bits, having my illusions of self-reliance blown off their hinges.
It’s wierd that i didn’t mean to be relying on myself, my strength, my capability. And i’d almost forgotten my recent prayers for humility and remembering where i really stand. But then, this week blew in like a storm and the wind has whipped at me till i find myself on my knees, declaring surrender; where i had imagined that i was before.
How many times can this reminder come? And like always, it hasn’t been anything grand, simply the feeling that i am totally incompetent and incapable of everything that i do, particularly the majors: wife to my husband, mom to my littles, friend to my friends. How to love? To serve? To teach, to be teachable? To sustain a life full of LIFE… These are the times, too, that i am more prone to notice the mess in my house, the hobbies i wish i were making time for, the phone calls needing to be made, and to think of the EVERYTHING i want to get done, rather than just doing things, one at a time.
Hold the sympathy, friends, that’s not at all what i crave! I don’t take the feelings for what they feel like, but for the truth they drive me to: that it’s never on my strength that anything worthwhile happens, that it’s (once again and always) not for my gain or glory. And i write, as always, to remind me, to remind us, that we are never alone in this struggle; that the place of struggle is, in many ways, a victory in itself.
1) The new baby’s name is Asher. We always name ‘em pre-birth; I think it’s nice to have something more personal than “it” or “the baby.” Oliver pronounces it “Dasher.” I picture eight tiny reindeer. But do not talk to me about how funny it would be to give birth to anything with antlers. It would not.
The name means happy and blessed. I think that’s a very good thing; you know how i’ve been praying for a happy one.
2) I read this interesting nugget in a ladies’ health mag last night: “women who eat a Mediterranean diet…seem to reduce their risk of dying (from any cause) by 20 percent.” Anyone else find this a bit misleading?
3) Spent the morning playing at the park, and then enjoyed lunch with a bunch of great friends today. The kid’s meal toy today was a CD of Chinese lessons. Turns out that for 1- and 3- year olds, it is as hilarious to hear a parent practice Chinese phrases as for that parent to hear the 1- and 3- year old do the same. Oliver pronounced every word “Meow, thank you.” On some of them, he wasn’t too far off the mark.
4) Stella seems a bit under the weather; the only real symptoms being a cough (keeps her up at night) and a bad attitude. “I’m not feeling so good today,” she told me. What’s bothering you? I ask, hoping for something obvious that i can fix. She answers, “My knee,” (pointing to an ancient little scab from some minor accident.)
Then, over lunch, as i attempt to eat with Stels on my lap (a result of her intense fear of the magician+ today’s attitude,) and monitor Ollo as he alternates throwing chewed-up food across the table and dumping the contents of his sippy on himself, my sweet friend Sarah asks, “how are you going to do this with three?” I have no idea, my friend. No idea at all.
It is one of those days when i’m in the wonderfully bizarre balance of feeling completely contented with my life, and entirely unsure of whether i’m doing anything right.
Well, you already know what this post is about.
It happened a week or so ago. I was giving the kitchen a good cleaning– moving all the appliances and stuff from the counters to clean underneath. When i moved the little basket that functions as our mail inbox/outbox, i found, underneath, a silverfish. Are you familiar with these nasty little creepies? Similar in design to a very tiny lobster, these are sneaky, slinky and fast.
We have spotted them in the bathroom late at night, lurking about the edges of the baseboards, often two at a time, which somehow makes us feel like maybe they’re conspiring against us. For whatever reason, aside from the occassional spider, this is the only bug we’ve ever found in our house. Brian and I, it turned out, had both googled them individually, concerned about their presence. The results tell us that the silverfish is nocturnal, likes to be near a water source, reproduces relatively slowly (this makes me less worried about a take-over), and feeds on paper adhesives and such indoor materials. And that they’re fast runners.
So, i found the little sneaky thing under the basket. I’m not sure why, but my instinctive reaction was to tap the basket, which i was holding, down onto the counter to see if any more would fall out. Now a few weeks ago, i found one in the vicinity, simply killed him and was done with it. Had i remembered my google-found knowledge i should have realized that we’d actually set up a near-perfect silverfish habitat: Near the sink and filled with envelopes, papers, and household randomness (paperclips, chapstick, pennies, pens), we often removed a thing or two from the basket, but rarely moved or cleared out the basket itself.
So, i didn’t even think, but just reacted. Maybe you would have done the same thing. And another silverfish did fall out. Actually three more. And then i froze, and did what i always do in this type of situation: Yell for my husband. Horrified by a) the four creepy silverfish now scrambling about on my kitchen counter, and b) the idea that there could be more, i grasped that basket in my hands and hopped back and forth from one foot to the other a manner that would have been more fitting if the bugs had been crawling on my feet. I dunno, i just couldn’t help it. Thankfully, my defender stormed in on the scene and killed all the bad guys. Not thankfully, he took a strange delight in emptying out the basket’s contents and announcing “Ooh, another one!” and “Oh, there’s a bunch in here!”
Lots of cleaning was done that night; i couldn’t shake that violated feeling of having discovered that i was not alone in the sacred space of my kitchen, and set about insuring there were no other surprises to be found. (There were not.)
Why does it feel so embarrassing to admit finding this little family of silverfish in my kitchen? For one thing, eww. For another thing, it makes me feel like a dirty person. Like you will never want to come over for dinner if you read this. Also, because it is just so easy to clean around the basket, even rearrange the contents without ever knowing what’s going on inside.
And this is where i go into a spiritual analogy. How could i not? I live in this state. I do the spiritual maintenance regularly– you know, praying, reading, journaling. I clean the visible mess. And if i see a creepy-crawly near the basket, i deal with it. But i don’t want to deal with the basket itself. I don’t want to take the time; i don’t want to bare my soul like that. How bad could it be? Until the silverfish surface, and i have to deal. I realize something is blocking my intimacy with God or fellowship with my husband, something that crept in unnoticed, but couldn’t be there if i really kept a clean kitchen.
So, as i pursue faithfulness, i am learning to pay attention. To be thorough, and not just when i happen to feel like it. Why is this so hard?
May 1st: i have a sunglasses tan, flip-flop tan, and of course, farmer’s tan lines. The problem is that i care.
