Archive for family life
explaining seattle rain
compliments of Hage CreativeI love this explanation of our rainy weather in Seattle. Having little ones around now, I definitely cherish the sun more because it’s our chance to explore the world outside the confines of our little home. Without the sun I dread taking the boys out- however I have experienced the Woodland Park Zoo in a downpour- that was an experience! Quoted from Go Northwest:
Seattle has a well-deserved wet and rainy reputation, perpetuated not least by the self-depreciating humor of its citizens. It is a pertinent point that the 36 inches of annual rainfall received by Seattle each year is less than the annual rainfall of places like New York. It is just that the rain comes down over a longer period–often precipitating as a slow drizzle, begrudgingly deposited by low lying clouds that seem to hang around far longer than necessary to get the job done.
The waters throughout the Puget landscape can but reflect the gray skies, resulting in somewhat monochromatic views. Mysterious, if that’s your cup of latte, depressing if it’s not. Yet these mists and rain keep Seattle cleaner and greener than most cities of a similar size. It takes only a day of sunshine to shake the winter blues. The city sparkles, the land lies green and beckoning across the bays, rivers and waterways as the landscape is transformed from gray monotones into the glittering hues that earn the “Emerald City” its nickname.
Perhaps those winter months have fostered the production of artifacts by which Seattle has made its presence felt. On the face of it, the cultural icons of grunge-rock, espresso coffee and software may seem an odd combination. Could it be, however that one is the expression of the winter blues, one the antidote to the winter blues, and one the productive use of short, rainy days?
So for all those times, my mom told me to move back to Portland- here’s why I stay…I live in the Emerald City! Still love you mom.
what is worship?
we’ve sang this song together at least 100 times since E sang this song (once) at church 2 weeks ago. I was shocked at how quickly he picked it up, but more importantly it is a reminder to me of how intentional and careful we need to be with what we let him watch and listen to, because…anything can be an influence on a child’s life. What do I want to be his influences?
to be everything, to be one thing
You’ve probably never wished to be a fish. Today, I am wishing to be a fish, for the first time. I’m sitting in a quiet house with 2 boys sleeping and I have a whole hour in front of me to choose my activity. If I were a fish, I wouldn’t have to choose. A fish can just exist. A fish can just be. A fish is designed for one purpose (well in addition to sitting on my kitchen table looking cute), to swim. To survive. I’m sure there is a more ecological answer, but that’s the gist of it. I want to have just one job! And I want to be REALLY good at it!
If I could just be a [wife and] mother. Just play with my children, teach them, love them, serve them. But that would be ignoring a multitude of gifts I believe God has given me with purpose. So how do we juggle them all? Whether it be hospitality & hosting others, being a good listener & friend, doing acts of service for others, having compassion, living out justice and mercy for others, or the ability to teach well, lead well, sing well, play well- I think there is a constant pull and tension on a person’s life. My husband and I have chosen a life for ourselves. One that we have decided should serve others and put others’ needs before our own. We are not perfect, we think of ourselves and our needs/wants/desires often- but we continually strive to live a life that goes beyond our personal agenda and preferences. Our sons have been invited into that. An afternoon at home building a fort is just as important as a trip to deliver food to a friend though.
We have a superhero living in our house. He happens to be three, and very special to me. Sometimes I wish I was a superhero too. If I had one power it would be this: the ability to compartmentalize my life. I think it would be a horrible and freeing power to have. When I want to be mom, I would have the power to be 100% there for my kids. Not distracted by email, facebook, laundry, bills, work. When I want to be wife, I could erase all the day’s experiences that had drained the energy and passion from me, and be 100% available to my husband, attentive and loving. When I go to work, I could be so focused and un-distracted by the little voices replaying the morning toy fight, tantrums over breakfast, or tearful goodbyes as mommy heads off to work. compartmentalization would revolutionize my life.
And yet, my life couldn’t be what it is without the constant ebb and flow, quiet and chaos, sleep deprived and caffeinated conversations. What is most exhausting about life, is also the most exhilarating. What drives me bonkers also inspires the crazy dreams in me. The love and affection from my family that is sporadic and desperate (almost always passionate) throughout the day is my lifeline. The hardest thing about wanting to be everything, to use all my gifts well, is that I can get so caught up in the details and distracted by the hopeful end result rather than soaking in the process. I might never feel like I do everything extremely well (in my own opinion), but I don’t think trading my chaos for the life of a fish would be all that satisfying.
I have come to my conclusion: I would not like to be a fish. No offense fish.
p.s. I suppose the only way I would like to be classified as a fish is if I were to say my one job in life is to love Christ. In that sense, I could be a fish. But that answer wouldn’t have allowed me to process what I did just now, so maybe that is why I didn’t think of it until just now.
when sympathy isn’t enough
I’ve been wrestling again. I’m not sure which is more exhausting the battling thoughts in my head, or the constant teaching and training required by my 1 1/2 & 3 year olds. A friend said to me the other day, “I can’t get through a single day without praying for wisdom and patience” [parenting was the reference]. Well, I have been praying for patience, but wisdom had slipped my mind. Without wisdom, I have decided that patience is meaningless. What I lack in mental, physical and emotional strength can not be made up simply by being more patient with my children. The patience must be directed toward meaningful engagement of my children when they are fighting over toys, pushing boundaries and demonstrating independence and a very strong will. But that’s not what I really wanted to blog about.
I’ve blogged before about tragedy surrounding me, but never hitting really close to home. I see pain in people around me, and I hurt for them, but there are just some experiences I cannot relate to or empathize with. When I learned of a young woman I work with losing her young mother to a sudden brain aneurysm, I was shocked, saddened and wanted to grieve with her. But I could not empathize that pain. As I visit my little friend with a brain tumor and watch him recover from chemo treatments, crying out in discomfort, or watch his very pregnant mother tenderly cradle her son with clear exhaustion from all the tremendous efforts needed to be taken in a day- my heart and mind reel with sadness & sympathy, but again- no empathy.
I want to do more than just pray, than just attempt an encouraging word. I want to travel to the depths of someone’s pain and be there with them. But at the same time, do I want their pain for my life? So what does it mean to come alongside others in their pain, but to also embrace joyfully the life I have been given. I feel as if my life lens is tainted by other’s stories. I can’t go into my sons’ bedroom without feelings of gratitude that my children are healthy, and sadness that someone’s I love is ill. Is that okay? When should I feel sadness? When should I feel joy? How can those two emotions linger side by side each day? So I continue to wrestle…
up above the world so high
On Sunday night I made another trip to Children’s Hospital…the place is growing on me…though there is a fine balance between loving a place that helps children and hating the fact that kids have to even be there in the first place. This trip was to visit little Cash who was in the middle of his first round of chemotherapy. He has been has been doing well, and his parents continue to amaze me with their strength and hope and reliance on something much bigger than themselves. In my effort to be helpful during the visit I offered to take Cash for a walk for mom and dad to have some “alone time”. To be honest I was a little nervous because taking this 16 month old for a walk involves tubes in his body and a pole with his chemo drip. Was I responsible enough? Well, I was up for learning something new. So we put him in a little buggy and I began to push is toy car with one hand and his pole with the other. Afraid of what he might do when his dad left I asked what songs Cash likes to since on these walks (he had done this several times already). Dad said they usually just talk about what they see on the walls and in the halls- we were cruising the hallways was the SCCA (seattle cancer care alliance) floor.
Not a moment into Cash’s and my alone time he got a little more squirmy than I was comfortable with. The quickest thing I could come up with to distract him was a rousing round of “the wheels on the bus go round and round”. It worked. He settled comfortable into his seat. Not long after that we drove over some stars, and so I started singing “Twinkle, twinkle little star”. And then, this is the part where I wish I had a tape recorder to share with you the sweetest sound in the world on that sunday evening. Little Cash man starts singing, “up a bub ba ba ba hi…”- on key. I knew he could say a few words, but I didn’t know he could sing. My heart started racing and for the next 15-20 minutes I proudly walked him through the halls passed all the nurses stations and we sang together, “up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky…”and the rest of the song, over and over and over. I was that proud auntie grinning from ear to ear. When I asked his parents if they had noticed this before, they said it was a first. Ha! Take that stupid brain tumor! No brain tumor could take that melody from his mind. No brain tumor could takes those words away from his lips. Nothing could take the joy from that moment.
I wish with everything Cash didn’t have a tumor. I wish it would just go away. I wish there was a way to alleviate the pain from this family. I love what my friends said- “when we want to ask ‘why us?’ we have to ask ‘well, why not us?’ “. God, who is bigger than us and bigger than our knowledge of him, is writing the story of this little boy. And I am proud to report that in one little paragraph (maybe only a sentence) about his second year of life, a story will be told of the time Cash first started singing up above the world so high…and what a fitting song to begin with. A song of hope about a little star that cannot be seen, but a star that is known. I pray that star is Cash’s complete healing from this brain tumor. Though we don’t see what the future holds, we hope for that star-like moment when his body is fully restored to health.
a full closet and a broken dryer
I have taken pride, in the past, about how modest my wardrobe is. I’m not always satisfied with what’s in my closet, but I’ve tried to be careful about how much I have, give away as much as I can, and limit myself to basics- most of the time. So when our dryer broke down 4 weeks ago, I was certain that I would need to find an alternative to hang drying laundry every week. I just thought we’d HAVE to do laundry or we would be wearing nothing but socks, underwear, dirty jeans and worn-out old tees (not that there’s anything necessarily wrong with that). Our boys need laundry done every 5 days based on the amount of clothing they have. However, I am embarrassed and shocked to say that Corey and I did not NEED any laundry done for 3 weeks! In fact, I probably could have gone at least another week!! I guess I never realized how much you could put in an old 1940’s house closet! It has taken us a full week, doing several loads daily to get everything back in order, but I’m thinking that spring cleaning should come a little early this year and it’s time to give away a few more things.
I am excited to try a clothing exchange which I never done, hosted by the women ministries at my church. But that won’t necessarily reduce the amount of clothing I have collected over the years. Some people might read this and say- what does it matter honestly, how many clothes you have? And- they may be very right! It doesn’t really matter. What it represents in my life is an ability/inability or life skill to de-clutter or hoard stuff. And I see in different seasons how I am more apt to give, or more inclined to whine and complain about not being able to buy what I really want. My closet is just one place I can monitor, gauge, control and visualize this aspect of my life. I want to learn to be thankful for what material things I have, though at times it is hard- I’m attracted to bigger and better “stuff”, I’ll admit it. So, I don’t wish my dryer to break down anytime in the near future…but today I will count it as a blessing and reminder of all the ways I am being taken care of.
how can i help?
Not being a person who has endured extreme poverty, catastrophe or a life-altering health diagnosis, I am often deeply burdened with anxiety by the stories of others I hear who are suffering, lacking, or are burdened by loss, sadness or terrible circumstances. It is a deep emotion inside me, that I find difficult to articulate and difficult to surrender. I want to wallow in sadness for anothers’ sake. But the flip side of that is wanting to be strong for others in their place- so they don’t have to be. If I’m being honest then, I’m not sure of my place when I see those who are suffering find internal strength and hope and peace. How then can I best help another? I know in my mind that I should rejoice when peace and hope in Christ are found, and I do rejoice…but what else? What else can I do? I wrestle with ‘prayer for another not being enough’, but putting my faith in action [the way I imagine it at least] doesn’t always seem possible.
This window to my soul has been reopened in recent weeks as many events take place around me, most heavily, as I watch friends get news of a brain tumor in their 16 month old son. I have been in awe of the family support they are receiving, the willingness of others to lay their lives down for a brother/sister, and the trust they have put in God, not naively, but the deep gut-wrenching, desperate kind of faith and trust. The kind that could leave them soaring a mountain top of praise, or laying in a valley of shadow and death. But they have chosen hope in place of despair and trust in place of doubt. Fear and anxiety exist in this place too, but they aren’t uncontrolled, chaotic emotions, just realities of their new “normal life”.
In my desire to be a support to anther- whether it be a family member, friend or someone like Haiti- I’m still figuring out what it means to live out my faith in these situation, self-sacrificially and out of pure motivation, unconditional love and mature in character with an ability to stave off the laziness that often times dims the sense of urgency to act on someone else’s behalf. In a sense this entry is unresolved…and I think I can be okay with that.
This little boy’s story can be followed at http://acashofhope.blogspot.com/. And more than anything- the prayers of saints are regarded as sweet incense during this season…so pray along with us please.
and time stands still…
you get a phone call that you weren’t expecting…and time stands still
an email sends your system into shock…and time stands still
life choices leave you burdened and confused…and time stands still
the future is entirely, freakishly uncertain…and time stands still
the words you say will either breathe life, or sound completely hollow…and time stands still
in the midst of a storm, either real or perceived, we are faced with so many options. do i pray? do i cry? do i trust? do i lean? do i move? do i act? do i rest?
and in the midst of this said storm, of which i have no control, i can rely on my own ability to survive- to make it- to get through it…or i can rely on One whose whisper even the storm can hear [to guide it or stop it]- in hopes of finding an inner peace that lifts me above the storm to see it for what it truly is…and time stands still.
mary’s song
It’s the beginning of a new year. A year filled with hope and excitement. With young children to watch grow, a husband to support in his small business, and a job I love with people who care for me…what’s there not to be excited about? But Corey and I got news today of the death of one of our college classmates. One who we weren’t close to, but have friends who were close to him. He died in the night, suddenly, leaving behind a wife and infant son. Life is but a breath. Life is fragile. Life is easily taken for granted. Life is painful. These are all thoughts roaming through my head. And at the beginning of a hopeful new year. But this death isn’t the only one that crosses our family’s path. The one-year anniversaries of three lost family and loved ones is coming up all too soon. The husband of a friend of church, my grandmother (whom I’ve been told I take after most), and Corey’s grandfather (a dear friend and role model for Corey). Why is death what is ringing in our new year? it draws one into melancholy, oh so quickly. We mourn with those who mourn (an unwanted departure from this life), and rejoice with those who rejoice (a healthy and whole being united with God, the Maker).
I’ve decided to take on Mary’s Song as my verse for the year. I hope to find an anchor in this passage while I sadly reflect on love lost and hopes shattered. But death is defeated in this poetry, thanks to the infant boy born to an unexpecting teenage girl who probably had dreams of her own.
Mary’s Song (Luke 1:46-55)
46And Mary said:
“My soul glorifies the Lord
47and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
48for he has been mindful
of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
49for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
holy is his name.
50His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
51He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
52He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
53He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.
54He has helped his servant Israel,
remembering to be merciful
55to Abraham and his descendants forever,
even as he said to our fathers.”
Though this passage doesn’t fill me with fluffy happiness that is like a bandage over an unhealed wound, it actually shocks me. Here Mary has been given the surprise of her life- not as bad as death I suppose- but a certain kind of death. Betrothal to a man she barely knows, a pregnancy that will shame her to all people (even her family), and loss of her childhood innocence. But rather than sing a song of lamentation- woe is me- she sees a Father in Heaven who loves her, and this world. A Father who is bigger than her comprehension, who does mighty deeds and stretches his arm, who is merciful and just, who rights wrongs and brings peace to conflict. This song is a work of God in this young woman’s life, and her belief and hope in something bigger than herself, her family, and her hopes and dreams. And she can glorify Him and rejoice in Him despite her world being turned, probably, upside-down.
Here’s to you mom
I was reading a blogpost this morning for some research I am doing about prayer, and I came across this woman’s realization about herself and her mother. Knowing how many conversations I have had with other young moms about the joys and trials of following after your own mother- I thought this was truly insightful. For all those times when we just don’t see eye to eye, here is a moment to reflect on the gifts my mother has given me. And to be thankful for our shared faith, love of family, and lasting friendship.
For years I’ve thought my mother and I were from different planets. We disagreed about lots of things. But the Christmas gift I received this week is a deep, almost pregnant knowing that the most important things in my life (and hers) were given to me by my mother–dance, art, hospitality, home, and a relationship with God. Why we always clashed in those areas was strictly a difference in style. We loved the same things but expressed our love differently. We were just from different neighborhoods, not different planets.
My house may not be as clean, my pie not as pretty, my ability to sew and make delicious bread- lacking…but you have instilled in me a love of home-making, home keeping (different than house keeping 
), a deep love for my Savior, commitment to my husband and children, passion to worship God through music, and the gift of leadership. Thanks mom! Maybe I should have saved this for a mother’s day card
