Stepping Out of the Boat

Those of you that know me well know that I download and listen to a Christian podcast everyday on my i-pod while I take a walk. The most recent message I’ve been listening to is about “stepping out of the boat”. I’ve also been reading some articles from the most recent Light and Life Magazine. The articles discuss the topic of courage. It got me thinking….

Do I have courage? Do I ever step out of the boat? Am I too content with the way my life is now that I am afraid to rock it up a little?

I think we get in our little boats, each sailing a different course on the sea of life. We have our own seats on our boats, with our names labeled on them. Around us we have brought our friends, our belongings, our beloved pets, and our favorite possessions. We set our course and we stick to it…whether it be our careers, our beliefs about ourselves, our schedules, our plans. We get so focused on where we are going that we don’t look around us…to the east, west, south or north. We don’t see opportunities that pass us by. Or we just don’t want to see the opportunity.

Why? Because we are afraid. Afraid of change, afraid of judgement, afraid that it can’t be accomplished. We forget that the power within us doesn’t not rest on ourselves, but on the power of Jesus. We are fearful to step out of the boat when Jesus calls us to for fear that we will fail.

Recently our family went to visit some friends from church. They have a little pond with a zip line that runs over it. I have been there many times and have watched many people ride that zip line, some of them being my own children, and have never seen one person get hurt. But yet, I didn’t want to try it. However, on the most recent visit I got a rush of courage and decided that I was going to try it, just once. I climbed the ladder and got on to the platform. When I looked down I was surprised at how high up it really was. I gripped the handles. I knew that my upper body strength was not strong enough to support my entire weight…at least not for very long. The handle bars felt slippery. I tried gripping another spot. Then another. And then I realized that fear was starting to set it. I was convincing myself that it couldn’t be done. I was wasting time by allowing the fear to burn out my courage. Without thinking another thought, I grabbed a hold of the handle in the most comfortable place and stepped off the platform. I had no time to concentrate on when to let go, because as soon as I started stepping off my grip started coming undone. I didn’t make it more the 6 feet on the line. Thankfully I fell over the water and not the ground. And thankfully the water was just deep enough that I didn’t get hurt…not too bad. Although I didn’t actually “ride” the zip line, I felt as if I did what I set out to do…try something new, step out in courage and not allow fear to rise up.

So I have come to a point this morning that I realize that God is talking to me. Courage, Fear, Stepping out. Where does He want me to go? Who does He want me to talk with? What ministry does he want me to try? What opportunities has He set before me?

I am going to got out of my seat on the boat. I am going to look in all directions. I am going to be ready for when He calls me out. And I hope I will take the step off the platform in courage.

Consequences to Enforce Cooperation

Ugh!  I can’t seem to get through to her!  Maybe I am getting through, but she is ignoring me?  I know she is a teenager.  I know she is prone to have a messy bedroom.  But this is ridiculous!

One of my biggest pet-peeves is WET TOWELS LEFT ON THE FLOOR!  No matter how often I say to her “Make sure to hang up your towels”, she still leaves them on the floor.  I reminded her just this morning as she was brushing her teeth.  I went downstairs, she left for school, I went back up, and there they were….on the floor!  So I did what I usually do, I picked them up and threw them on her bed.  Nobody likes to sleep in damp sheets.  As I left her room, I noticed three more towels from the previous day on the floor of her closet!  I left her room and closed the door….trying to forget my frustration until I can deal with her one on one. 

As you can tell, this has been an ongoing issue for a long time.  Her morning routine consists of…. throwing her pjs on the floor, showering, throwing her towels on the floor, dressing, getting every hair product out of the cupboard, and leaving them on the countertop.  Yesterday I called her home from her friend’s house just so that she could clean up all of the stuff she left on on the counter.  I wish I would’ve seen her closet at the time, I would’ve had her clean that too.   

So, what am I supposed to do?  So far my plan to leave her with damp sheets (by putting the wet towels on her bed) hasn’t worked.  The towels and sheets eventaully dry and by the time she goes to bed, she doesn’t know the difference.  Last Christmas I bought her two of her very own towels and hung a hook in her room.  She uses the towels, but doesn’t use the hook, and then has to our the bathroom towels the next day. 

Its time for more drastic consequences.  I’ve thought about prohibiting her from using ANY of our regular bathroom towels…alllowing her to use only her own, thus letting her suffer if they are on the floor.   I’ve thought also about making her wash, dry and put away towels every time I find a wet towel left on the floor.  But will it work?  Any ideas?

Pirouetting Recliner

Can a LazyBoy pirouette?  Yes, they can, and if you come anywhere near a project or task that my husband has taken on, be prepared to jump, leap, or duck to get out of the way.  He assured me today that one bungy cord was all that we needed to strap down the couch and recliner to the back of the truck so I could deliver them to my sister-in-law 12 miles away. 

“Are you sure that recliner is in there good enough?  Don’t you think it should be turned the other way?”

“Naw,” he says, “That thing weighs a ton, its not going anywhere”.

And it wasn’t until about 8 miles out of town.  A flash of burgundy in the rear view mirror caught my eye.  “What the heck is that!!??” It took a moment to register that the “one ton” recliner had “flipped” right out of the back of the truck.  Not slid out, but FLIPPED!  The next thing I remember seeing is my burgundy chair twirling down the center of Main Street Road.  Some how, it had landed on its base.  As I began to slow from the 50 mph (yes, it was 50, not 65!), the recliner pirouetted in the opposite direction as if it were wearing skates on a sheet of slick ice.  As I got out of the truck and peered 30 yards down the road at my lazyboy, I couldn’t help but think how ridiculous it looked sitting in the middle of a highway.

Thank you God that there were no vehicles behind me, and that it came to a complete stop just inches short of the oncoming traffic lane.  Three semi-trucks and four cars had slammed on their brakes to possibly avoid a collision with my living room furniture.  How embarrassing!  Not only embarrassing that I looked like such a red-neck in my pick-up truck delivering used furniture through the countryside, but embarrassing that we hadn’t taken the precautions necessary to properly secure the darn thing.  Thank you God for preventing any accidents and for the young guy who pulled over to pick up that chair and put it back in my truck…this time the way I thought it should’ve been placed the first time!

So anyway, I am glad that the chair managed to survive its final endeavor with us.  Lord knows its been through enough in its life time.  I can’t help but reflect on its highlights…. How the girls and I would get it rocking so hard that it would tip all the way back and we would land on our backs laughing and yelling to “Do that again!”.  When some type of food fell deep into the crevices and spoiled.  It smelled horrid for so long….especially on the humid days that summer.  Still yet, I refused to give it away and continued to sit in it.  How I squeezed my behind in there so many times beside one of the girls when they asked for a bedtime story.  When I almost decapitated one of the cats upon closing the foot rest.  And best of all, the countless days and nights I used that chair to rock my babies to sleep.  Almost makes me wish I would’ve kept it….hmmmmm.  But then of course, there was the time one daughter vomitted and didn’t make it off the chair on time.  And another daughter who was not quite “completely” potty-trained had a little accident.  And of course the time the sippy cup of milk somehow opened and poured into every opening. 

I wonder if I should forewarn my sister-in-law of all of these strange little odors it might have?  On second thought, no, she’s giving it to my 16 year old nephew for his bedroom.  Nothing smells good in there! 

Emma…a life lesson

“I think its a she….she’s got boobs.”

“Well, fat boys can have boobs too!” the other says. 

This is not a discussion that I can tune myself out from.  Our “five” sits together at a crowded table in our little cabin.  A week at the lake without tv, telephones, computers, we have to find our own entertainment.  So begins a discussion of whether the adolescent child standing alone on the dock is a boy or a girl.  The child is dressed in oversized boys swim trunks and obvioulsy her father’s t-shirt.  The only sign of femininity there is the lilac colored “crocs” she is wearing. 

I join in on the discussion and offer my opinions.  The laughter we share is fun, but there is a darkness hanging over my head.  Ideas run through my head of what I SHOULD be saying, “We are all beautiful in God’s eyes”, “How great it is that she can be so carefree, not to worry at all what she looks like on the outside”, or “I bet she is a really nice person”.  But I don’t, I only offer “Now girls, thats not nice”.  Then my husband offers some unisex names for what her given name might be…Pat or Chris.  I start laughing too. 

I’m not proud of this moment.  I’m not a good mom at this moment. 

A few days pass, and this child gets a real name….Emma.  She strikes up a friendship with my two oldest girls.  I look down at the dock where Emma stood alone on the first day and see my girls sharing worms with her to catch sunfish and perch. 

On the last night of our week long retreat,  the girls bring Emma into the cabin.  They sit at the picnic table and laugh.  Emma’s face is chubby.  Her hair is ascew.  Although the same age as my oldest, she obviously doesn’t care about clothes or make-up or anything of the sort.  How innocent and sweet she looks.  What a great friend for my girls to have.  I am proud of them for accepting her offer to friendship and not shunning her because of her differences. 

Later, as we get ready for bed, I ask “So, is Emma nice?”

“Yeah mom, she’s REALLY nice, and she’s fun too”. 

Its time to go, our vacation has ended.  We have everything packed up in the truck and are just doing the last minute run through the cabin to make sure everything is accounted for.  My girls stand on the front step and I hear them yelling “Emma!  Emma!  Bye, we’ll see you next year….hopefully!” 

Bye, Emma. Thanks for everything.  Thanks for teaching us a lesson.  Hope to see you next year. 

Sisters Make the Best Babysitters

Yesterday, my husband asked me “Do you want to get up tomorrow morning and go fishing with me?”  I didn’t answer him at first and I think he understood my hesitation because he very quickly reworded his question to, “If I can arrange for someone to watch Panda, would you like to go fishing with me?”  To that I answered “Yes, I’d love to go”. 

 I don’t know how he did it without a battle, but he somehow arranged for our oldest daughter (nickname: Juju) to babysit our youngest (Panda) while we headed to the lake with the boat.  (Our middle daughter was away for the night).  We got up promptly at 5 AM and were on the road by 5:30.  The drive took us about an hour.  All the while, I had a funny feeling that Panda was going to wake up, wander in to our room, find our bed empty, meander downstairs, find the downstairs empty, and then beginning crying hysterically before Juju would wake up and be able to comfort her.   The thought and the worry overwhelmed me to a point that I HAD to call and tell Juju to move to my bed so that Panda would find her. 

The phone must’ve rang four times before Juju picked up.  “Mom?  Panda’s not in her bed.”

My heart sunk, “Are you sure? She’s so little sometimes she is hidden somewhere under her covers”.

Then I hear, “Panda, what are you doing honey?  Are you ok?  Come on, lets go up and get in my bed together”.  Juju found her sitting alone on the couch quietly crying. 

Funny how God nudged me at just the right moment to call home and check on them.  What an encouragement it was for me to hear Juju (who typically is the world’s biggest grump anytime before 9 AM) treating Panda with such compassion, reassurance and love.  My heart swelled with pride.

About an hour later I got a call from Juju, “Mom?  Sugar (our hamster) is out of his cage and Kohl (our dog) is looking funny at me”.   After reassuring her that Kohl would, most likely prefer not to eat a hamster and that if he did there would be remains left around, I was able to hang up with the reassurance that she would wait until I got home and we would search for Sugar together. 

About another half-hour passes and my phone rings again, “Mommy?  Guess what!  I found Sugar all by myself and Juju is so proud of me because I am a big girl.  I just looked in the drawer and he was right there and Juju didn’t even see him, but I did, because I am a big girl….” 

I hung up very proud of my “four year old hamster finder”, but so completely awestruck of my “babysitter, almost-13 year old”. 

By 11 AM and very few bites, we decided to get off of the water.  I called home once again to check on them and let them know we’d be home shortly.  “Hi Mom, We’re at the playground.  Panda is going down the slide and Kohl is laying in the shade un the tree”. 

How could this be?  Is this really my daughter?  My first born little girl who depended so much on me for everything?!  When did she grow up?  Where has the time gone?  How is it that Juju at 13, would understand the importance of encouraging and lifting up the little accomplishments of a four year old?  What makes her so compassionate and gentle with her little sister? What made her decide to call me and allow her little sister to take ALL the credit for finding the hamster when I know she had a hand in it?  Don’t people say that teenagers are self-centered?  Aren’t sisters supposed to reak havoc on each other? 

Then I think back to my childhood, specifically my years without a mother.  It was my sister who climbed in to bed with me when I cried about missing Mom.  It was she who taught me about the changes at puberty.  It was she who threw me “sweet 16 birthday party”.  She was the one who cried with me at the birth of my first daughter.  I could go on and on…

How God has blessed me with the opportunity to watch the sister relationships grow between my daughters!  How He has blessed me with a “big” sister of my own who looked after me!  There is something special, so unique I can’t quite put a finger on it,  in this sisterhood thing.  Thank you God for giving me a sister (Love you Jenn!), and thank you for allowing my daughters to have two of their own! 

This photo was taken when Panda bit her tongue pretty bad.  We had just returned from the ER and Juju was cuddling her. 

My “dreamer” daughter, middle child.

Warning: Danger of Complete Boredom…Do Not Read If You Do Not Want To Hear a Mother’s Rambling On About How Perfect Her Child Is….. 

I have decided not to include my daughters’ names in my posts….just for safety issues.  Most of my writing is “just for me” anyway… to be able to reflect on my thoughts and feelings at a future point, but I know there are those out there who will read this and be able to identify and I look forward to your interactions.  Especially if you have a 8/9/10 yr old, a “dreamer”, or a middle child….. So anyway, I will refer to her as “Mouse” which is the nickname she has had since she was a toddler. 

Mouse is my 9 year old daughter.  She is very much a nine year old…doesn’t act like a baby, and doesn’t care or want to be a teenager yet.  Half little girl, half adolescent.  Sweet and innocent, yet silly with a tad bit of attitude. 

I chose to write about her first because she is my middle child.  She is the one I worry about the most getting lost in the “crowd”.  Not only because of her birth order placement, but because of personality and nature. 

Mouse is exactly that….a mouse.  She is quiet and thoughtful.  Sweet and cute.  She avoids conflicts and aims to please others.  She is very often in her own little world thinking of the most creative things.  Her questions make you wonder where she has been and what she’s been thinking.   When trouble arises, she retreats to her bedroom.  She plays extremely well with others, yet at times she prefers to be alone watching movies or playing on the computer.  She is sensitive, but not so sensitive that she really lets the actions of others affect her.  She can walk away from hurtful situations unscathed and has the restraint to avoid that situation in the future. 

Mouse is a worrier.  Most of her worries are about pleasing others.  But recently she started worrying about being kidnapped.  She is honest…oh, so honest.  She has on several occasions confessed sins to me that she’s done way in the past….only to free herself from carrying around the guilt.  When she is scared her entire body trembles.  It makes me want to scoop her up and rock her like a baby. 

Mouse is the kind of child who mothers remark to me about…”She was such a good girl at our house.  I didn’t have to check on the girls once while they played.  She can come over anytime”.  While I intially was so extremely proud when hearing such a thing, I have begun to get a little worried about her too.  Yes, she is a good girl.  Yes, she has great manners.  Yes, she is so easy to get along with.  But, is she so easy going that she never speaks up for herself?  Is she always the follower and not the leader when she plays?  Her best friend (bf) is a girl who is strong willed and very much a leader.  Until recently Mouse would just go along and agree with whatever the bf wanted to do.  As she has matured, Mouse has begun to express her individuality and independence.  A few weeks ago the bf’s mother overheard the girls arguing and heard Mouse say, “I am going home. You cannot talk to me that way.”  What a little attitude we are developing!

Animal lover!  Dogs, cats, and tigers are her favorite.  She is compassionate and gentle with animals.  Wanting to bring home any animal that may seem injured.  Although our house is already filled with animals of different kinds, we still make a weekly trip to volunteer time at our local animal shelter.  I think she would prefer to care for the dogs over the cats, but she is just not strong enough yet to handle the bigger animals.  Isn’t it ironic how no one in the family has allergies of any kind, while she has recently developed an allery to pet dander!  Poor thing….however we will not let that sway her from doing what she likes most.  In the future, I see her owning a dog kennel, or maybe running a rescue shelter, or even a zoo keeper. 

Imaginitive… she always finds new a creative ways to play with her toys.  One of her favorites is playing “dog house”  which is the same as playing dollhouse, just using dog figurines as the mom, dad, etc. Recently she found a silver box and decided to turn it into a detective kit.  Another time she played rescue center with all of her stuffed animals. 

She is a Daddy’s girl.  Versitile and fits in with what ever is going on.  She loves to go fishing with Dad and he gets pure joy out of watching the excitement grow as she brings in a “big” sunfish. 

Mouse is beautiful.  Big brown eyes, long wavy blonde hair, and a nice skin tone.  Although she is not concerned at all with her appearance yet, she carries her self well.  Confident with a head of tangly hair (I can never get her to brush it thoroughly)!  I pray that as she becomes a young lady that she will seek to first beautify herself on the inside before she covers it all up with make-up and hair product.  I pray the most for her that she will grow up to be self confident and appreciate how God has gifted her uniquely. 

As all children are….she is truly the most precious gift God could have ever given me.  (More about my other brats (only kidding!) later…..)

Home

Home again. 

The sillies. The laughter.  The messes.

The hungry mouths.  The goofy dancing.  The tossled hair.

The multiple reminders that it IS bedtime.   

The piles of laundry.  The need for more milk.  The doors left wide open.

The crumbs on the counter. The bickering.  The stories to tell.

They are home. 

Coming Home

My two older girls are coming home today.  They’ve spent a week with my sister up at her place in New Hampshire.  Have I missed them?  Uh huh.  Did I get a lot done while they were gone…nah.  Perhaps their presence is what inspires me the most to keep things in order around here. 

My 9 year old called me the other day (usually the oldest makes the call, and then hands the phone over).  She still has that “little girl” voice and when I heard “Hi Mommy!” in her sweet little way, I almost cried.   I could see her face saying those words…boy, do I miss her smile. 

I went shopping yesterday.  I found a couple of pants for my oldest.  Hmmm,  is she a size 2 still?  Are these long enough?  Oh, isn’t that cool…I wonder if she’d like that?  I wish she would’ve been with me….we have so much fun when we shop….she makes me laugh.   Boy, do I miss her sense of humor. 

So in about 8 hours I will see them once again.  Seems like eternity.

So what is it about your children that you miss the most when you a seperated?

Consider the Source Before Considering the Words

I recently encountered some unwanted negative advice about a decision I had made.  It offended me, hurt me and after the fact, I needed to speak with people who could encourage me and lift me up.  I also needed to have all of these people confirm one way or another….was this person right?  Should I change my ways?  One of the most profound things some one said to me was “If you are going to react to it, be hurt by it, change your ways because of it (this person’s advice), then I hope this is someone you put on high regard as being highly competent, a person who will give you Godly advice, and a person who respects you and doesn’t reject you for you, just being who you are”.   Another friend simply said….”consider the source!” 

It was good words to hear from my most valuable friends and confidants.  However,  I have wondered deep down what it was inside of this person who felt they needed to tell me their opinions knowing full well that it would offend me…was it jealousy, was it that they don’t think I am competant enough to make decisions,  was it that they were irritated with me and wanted to offend me?  Or is this person controlling and just needs to try to express some type on constraint on me?

My struggle is this….you see, I am extremely sensitive to other people’s words, yet I struggle with controlling my own words towards others when I am hurt or angry!   When I am hurt, it is my natural instinct to hurt back.  When others criticize or correct me I naturally want to close the door and then throw insults through it!  How can I portray the image of God in both cirmcumstances? It is clearly by God’s restraint alone.  As my girlfriend Justine and I have discussed, it is only by the power of God that we can close that swinging trap door mouth of ours when we need to the most! 

The struggle with controlling my mouth is in progress but is probably at the best its ever been.  I know myself full well enough to know that in order for me to hear God’s words of direction, I need to wait before responding.  Many times, discussing it with my husband or closest friends, praying over it and then sleeping on it.

However, in the same respect, when others throw insults at me, I need to realize that they might not be where I am at.  They might be struggling with personal issues, faith issues, anger issues.  They might be a person who has never understood me or accepted me for who I am.  They might be a person who doesn’t know me at all. They might be a person who doesn’t know God at all.

So, in this brief time of discouragement and hurt, I have learned something….when words are thrown at you that you might not want to hear, it is important to consider the source before considering the words. 

Some pretty deep thoughts on “being me”…

I am me. I am who I am.  Take it or leave it. I can’t, nor do I want to change who I am. 

At this exact time in my life, I have lived 37 years, 1 month, 2 weeks, 6 days and several hours.  I have experienced much, maybe not what you have, but much.

I have experienced the death of a parent, I have experienced cancer of many loved ones, I have experienced depression.

I have not experienced physical, sexual or emotional abuse, I have not experienced alcoholism or drug addiction, I have not experienced the illness or death of a child…. things I NEVER want to experience as me.

I have experienced an abundance of love every day of my life, I have experienced the priviledges of a stable financial upbringing, I have experienced acceptance from others and of myself.

I have not experienced the constant presence of a mother while growing up, I have not experienced being really good at something…so good, I’ve stood out, I have never been able to keep my emotions under control…things I WISH I could’ve had.

I have experienced a sad little girl

I have found a joy in mothering three happy little girls

I have experienced a troubled teen

I have become a secure adult

I have experienced a mental breakdown

I have learned to take on only what I can

I have experienced a broken marriage

I have found a renewed committment

I have experienced the confusion of needing a purpose

I have found a meaningful, purposeful life in Christ.

I am who I am.  I like who I am, and where I am at, and I like how I got here….

So, you may dislike me or love me. You may reject me or need me.  You might identify with me or think I am strange.  But I am here too…taking up as much space as you, and I have a purpose, just as you do.  Do you like who you are?