The Joy of Parenting
Photo: PhotograTree on Flickr
So I’m thinking of writing a parenting book but I can’t decide what to call it…
- Rocks in my dryer
- Don’t eat that
- Yogurt on the carpet
- Why do bananas have to have those stringy things anyway?
- Eggs are a dinner food
- I love you too; that’s why I’m so mean sometimes
- I don’t want to make the lego tank again
- Yes I know mommy said a bad word
- Crayons in the couch
- God didn’t give you eyes on the back
- Jam side down
- Sand in my shoe
- My purse is not a garbage bag
What do you think?
The Story of Me: Volume 3
Photo: Eric M Martin on Flickr
Volume 1
If my life was a story made up of various chapters in multiple volumes, Volume 1 could be called “Michelle: the daughter of her parents”.
That first volume told the story of a girl’s childhood. It told countless anecdotes that each had a lesson… the moral of the story just like every fairy tale. Those stories molded the young girl into the person she would start to become as an adult. In the first volume, her parents were her source of knowledge, strength, inspiration, hope, and wisdom. Her parents were the key influencers and taught the girl what they felt were the necessities of this lifetime as they saw it. It was a beautiful book filled with love, opportunity, encouragement, security and discipline and it set the foundation for volume 2. Volume 1 ended with hope and excitement as the now young woman finished her education, began to establish an adult life and caught a glimpse of what it might take to build the future she was only just starting to imagine.
Volume 2
Volume 2 could be titled “Michelle: on becoming a wife and mother”.
Volume 2 began with the now young woman meeting the man she would go on to marry, learning to function together with him and learning what it really means to love someone apart from herself. It was filled with chapter upon chapter of ups, downs, learning experiences, growth experiences, laughter and tears. It told the story of the young woman following her heart wherever it would lead, even if that was into some pretty treacherous territory. As the story unfolded her eyes were opened up to some very important life lessons on marriage, on child-rearing, on connections and interpersonal relationships… on faith. In this story, she transitioned from looking to her parents for love and guidance to seeking out those things from her marriage partnership and growing her character with the help of an expanded sphere of influence.
Just before the end of volume 2, the woman’s husband was killed tragically leaving a sense of chaos and deafening silence in her life and her home. What an odd ending to such a beautiful volume. When you got to the end you might say, “It must have had some pages torn out.” If it were a movie you would say, “Well, they have to make a sequel; it can’t end like that.” Here’s the thing… there’s a tiny little piece of the story hiding at the end of that second volume that, if you don’t pay close enough attention, you could miss entirely. It’s a short scene that is pretty vital to understanding and enjoying the sequel. It’s that bit that you might only catch as you re-read the book for the second or third time. In fact, most people won’t ever re-read it and that full understanding remains reserved for the story’s author alone.
At the end of volume 2, a divine peace permeates the protagonist’s life. She finds herself pondering every moment up until that point and every hope for the future. She sees that the future she once expected and dreamed about will now never come to pass but she can also see that she’s not alone in this journey: The author of life itself knows how the story will unfold.
She’s actually been given a precious gift: the ability to co-write a new future with strengthened faith borne out of her helplessness; the ability to co-write a new future while applying every lesson learned from volumes 1 and 2; and the freedom to boldly step into that new future with excitement and anticipation thanks to her steadfast faith.
Volume 3
Volume 3 has begun: “Michelle: destiny awaits”.
So volume 3 is now just starting to be written, but it has indeed begun. I know everyone has an opinion on what I should think, feel, do in light of my husband’s death. Whether you end up sharing it with me or not, I know you have an opinion. And it’s okay. The truth is, I have been given the opportunity to take everything I know about me, my faith, my kids, my hopes, my likes, my dislikes, my wishes and earnestly seek exactly what I’m looking for without compromise. That’s the silver lining.
I really don’t want to be alone. I don’t think this life is meant to be lived alone. God said, “It is not good for a man to be alone.” I want someone to share my life with, to share my experiences with… someone to share parenting with. I want someone who will help to model a healthy marriage relationship to my kids. I want someone who will be my partner and hold me up when I’m on shakey ground. I want someone to help teach my boys how to be men. I want someone to lead my family. That’s what is missing. And I believe God wants that for me too.
If I were to create a list of criteria for a perfect partner it would include:
- Must love God and have a personal relationship with Jesus
- Must love kids and have some of his own but desire no more
- Must have been married and understand all that entails
- Must have a stable job or at least a really strong work ethic
- Must have a strong desire to grow in faith
- Must be around my age, give or take 5 years or so
- Must have a huge heart
- Must be willing to commit for better or worse
- Must be willing to accept that I will always speak lovingly about my late husband to my kids – this will last 20 years or more
- Must be willing to pray together
- Must be willing to fill the role of mentor to my boys
- Must be willing to carry on a dating relationship the way God would want
So yeah, I assumed I’d never meet someone that would be a perfect match. That is, after all, quite the list of demands, right?
Well… it turns out it’s not so far-fetched after all.
I have met someone new who I am very much enjoying getting to know. Too soon? Not when the hand of God is all over it. The human heart has an extraordinary ability to overcome. In some ways, I think moving beyond the death of a spouse may be easier than moving beyond a broken marriage where one person chose to leave. Especially for a believer. I fully believe my late husband has reaped the ultimate reward… we should all be so blessed! I don’t have to feel hurt that he chose to leave. I don’t have to feel sadness that he won’t see his boys grow up – he’s in heaven worshiping the Almighty Creator! I just have to cherish his memories, honour him as I raise our boys and know that one day I’ll worship around the throne with him.
I’m excited about what the future holds for me and my boys and I’m ready to dive in and write volume 3. I hope you will sit back and enjoy watching the story unfold without judgement.
If you’re new to my blog or have just stumbled upon it through a search engine, you can read all the entries about the death of my husband here.
Only good memories remain
It’s five months tomorrow since Dave died. It’ll also be my birthday.
The last time I shared my thoughts on the process of dealing with this was two months ago and life is beginning to make sense again. The fog has lifted some and I’m starting to feel more comfortable with day to day living as a single mom. I’m really grateful it’s summer because the late afternoons out at parks and beaches and hanging out in Dave’s mom’s back yard by the pool gives me a great excuse to order take-out dinners or eat picnic foods. I’m still not particularly skilled in the kitchen but I’m very much looking forward to getting a new barbecue and eating a steak for the first time in 5 months. Adding to the challenge of the dinner hour is that mini-boy is now fully involved in the food scene and so I have to make sure I have adequate soft cooked, chopped and minced foods for a 7 month old to gum. I’m very much looking forward to when he and mini-man can eat the same meal.
I miss him every day.
I still get regular reminders that he’s gone… a letter in the mail “To the Estate of…”, mini-man blowing a dandilion and wishing for his dad back, a realization that there’s something I don’t know how to do that Dave would have – like switching the hard and soft tops on our Jeep… and I still sometimes get broadsided by something that I didn’t expect. For instance, last weekend I took both kids and Dave’s mom to see The Lion King at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre. I LOVED the movie and I had heard such great things about the musical that I just had to go. Well… I probably should have thought a little about the plot before heading out all excited. The part where little Simba sits trying to wake up his dead lion dad was painful and a couple of songs in the second act had me wishing I wasn’t there… I’m glad I ended up in the crying room with mini-boy; I think I may have cried more than he did. The show was amazing, but it sure was excruciating to watch.
I think the thing that breaks my heart the most is thinking about my boys growing up without their dad. In fact, that was the very first thought I had when I found out he’d been killed.
I have some good male friends who have been hanging with mini-man lately and getting some quality guy time in with him… he’s absolutely craving male attention. You know, wrestling, kicking stuff, playing with swords etc. He will take it wherever he can get it… and that is fine for now. Even if and when another man might come into our lives, he’ll never be their father. He’ll never care quite as much. No one could possibly care quite as much as Dave did. But I do trust that God will build a beautiful story from my boys’ lives even without their dad.
I’m still working on organizing our home.
I have an overwhelming need to get it to a certain level of livability with two kids and only one person to pick up after all three of us… especially before I go back to work in January. I’m a little scared of going back to work. I can’t imagine how I can run my household, adequately parent two children and work a full time job… but plenty before me have done it. I’m sure I’ll learn. It’s kind of strange… you would think losing my husband while my youngest was so teeny-tiny would have been the worst thing; but in all honesty, that has been a huge blessing. The fact that I will have had almost a full year before I have to go back to work has helped tremendously with living through this ordeal I’m sure. Knowing I can just focus on myself, my kids and our home has been one of the things I’m most thankful for.
For the most part I’ve gone through all of Dave’s stuff and have two very full boxes of keepsakes… photos, journals, his bible, some clothing – particularly t-shirts that appear in the photos – tie clips, cuff links, the neck chain he wore when we got married, his poker chips and playing cards… I’ve tried to save everything that the boys could one day use to connect their dad to the memories or things they could simply use and enjoy. I have yet to go through his dive gear and figure out what to do with all of it and I haven’t yet touched our storage locker in the basement. I also have a bunch of motorcycle gear I’ll probably just keep – his jacket, my jacket, a couple of helmets, gloves, and a big riding backpack etc. Not that I think I’ll ever get back on a bike at this point… but the truth is I know Dave would still want his boys to ride one day. I’ll tackle that when the time is right.
I’ve had the old barbecue taken away – Dave had been complaining that it was dead and we needed a new one, I’ve put up a bunch of new toy shelves in the boys’ room and I’ve had all the carpet and upholstery cleaned. Now I just want to finish clearing all the paperwork and stuff off my dining table and get the new barbecue picked up and put together. I know I won’t feel totally peaceful even then… it still feels like I need to do stuff. But I think it will help to feel like I’m kind of settled in now for the long haul… or at least the next couple of years. I’m still holding out hope that I will be able to buy a house once I’ve settled with ICBC.
I have a few things that I’m looking forward to.
In September I’m taking the boys and Dave’s mom to a bereavement camp called Camp Kerry and my parents want to take me and the boys to Mexico in November sometime. That will be nice. Plus, a while ago, I won a week in St. Maarten from Porto Cupecoy so I’m hoping to take that in March next year – by then mini-boy will be old enough for me to leave him with Dave’s mom and mini-man and get some quality adult-only time with a girlfriend. I’ll likely be spending Christmas at Harrison Hot Springs as well – we want to do something different so we’re not just kind of having the same celebration we always have minus Dave. That would be too hard.
I have found a couple of online resources that have been a source of comfort to me:
- Young Christian Widow – a blog written by a woman who lost her husband to brain cancer and who is raising her three boys
- Widow’s Voice – a blog written by a variety of widows and widowers
I am also planning to join in the Grief Share program at Valley Church in September.
Over all I do feel a certain amount of peace that I can only attribute to God. I have been able to be very kind to myself, allowing myself every thought, every deed, every self-indulgence, every angry moment or sad moment without self-judgement… again, that can only be from God given how hard I normally am on myself. Dave’s death has, no-doubt, changed me in some profound ways… I’m sure I haven’t even discovered the half of it yet.
It’s funny… when I think about Dave now, all that remains is the good stuff. I mean, I know the bad stuff was there, but it fades into the background of my memory bank leaving only the happy memories to be enjoyed. All the disagreements, hurts and trouble we’d shared over more than 10 years become a distant past and the only important stuff… the stuff I’ll cherish and remember always, are his dreams, strengths… his love and commitment to his family, his joy of life and what he wanted for our family. I hope I can honour his dreams for our family without him.
I’m so very grateful for my family and my friends who have really stepped up to love on me and the boys. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
If you’re new to my blog or have just stumbled upon it through a search engine, you can read all the entries about the death of my husband here.
Do sweat the big stuff?
Photo: Enol on Flickr
My head is spinning from the sermon delivered this morning at my church. It was a beautiful metaphor about bookends. The bookends are:
- The Righteousness of Christ
- The Power of the Holy Spirit.
Together, they hold together all the books of our life – our homes, our jobs, our relationships, our kids etc. Without the two bookends, all the books will either fall over – at least over time, they will – or we’ll move them around to make them stick but they might not remain in the right sequence or priority. No matter how hard we try, we can’t keep the books of our lives lined up and standing strong without the bookends.
I’m not going to summarize the sermon, though I did find it to be very impactful… but today I wanted to touch on a part of it that got my head spinning: the part about the righteousness of Christ.
We looked at a couple of scriptures, though I don’t know what bible translation they’re from:
“as it is written: ‘None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God. All have turned aside; together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one.’ ” [Romans 3:10-12]
and
“God made Him who had no sin [Jesus] to be sin for us, so that in him, we might become the righteousness of God.” [ 2 Corinthians 5:21]
So the long and short of it is no human is righteous. No one can be in right standing with God. But God made a way for us through Jesus’ death on the cross. He paid our debts; but not only that: His righteousness is credited to us.
What got my head spinning was the reference to our list of sins. The pastor used the analogy of a ledger book and an accounting angel who went around behind us every day noting down our various sins. The examples used were envy over the material things of others’ like cars and vacations, lying to one’s boss over being late, stealing office supplies like file folders and paper clips and cursing someone for being a nuissance in the neighbourhood. He went on to preach how all these things are not only erased (if that were all we’d be seen merely as blameless) but that we are, in fact, credited with Jesus’ righteousness and we are, therefore, righteous in the sight of God.
I loved this sermon; don’t get me wrong, please… but…
Would this sermon be preached in a Christian church if the list of sins was something other than jealous thoughts, white lies, theft of insignificant proportion or thinking poorly of someone?
What if, instead, the sermon listed bitterness, name calling, kicking the family dog and watching porn? Would it still be preached? Does Jesus’ sacrifice cover that? What if it listed drinking until blacking out, laughing at a homeless prostitute, tax evasion and ignoring your husband? What if it listed excessive speeding, using crystal meth, beating your wife and molesting your children? What then? Would it still be preached? Would this sermon still be preached if one of the sins on the list was having pre-marital sex? What if one of the sins on the list was having an emotional affair with someone from work? What if one of the sins on the list was adultery?
Would this sermon still be preached in a Christian church if one of the sins on the list was lusting after or having sexual relations with someone of the same gender? Would it be preached?
These questions are obviously intended to raise more questions and some deeper thought.
I’ve heard it said – even by some people I hold a great deal of respect for – that anyone who might commit sins “such as these” (on topics such as adultery, addiction, homosexuality… you know, the BIG sins) were likely not saved, spirit-filled Christians to begin with. I find that mildly presumptuous to say the least.
I have to ask then… what kind of sins do saved, spirit-filled Christians commit and which ones don’t they commit? Which ones does the power of the Holy Spirit keep them from commiting and which ones doesn’t it? See… here’s the thing… If God is capable of renewing us when we receive the Holy Spirit at salvation (or subsequent to salvation during the baptism of the Holy Spirit as some would argue) to the point where we no longer commit the big sins as some might claim, SURELY He is also capable of keeping us from stealing paper clips from the office! Even many non-Christians don’t steal from the office, lie to their boss or envy their neighbour’s new car. If we need a saviour to be our righteousness before God by erasing all the little sins, how much more do we need a saviour to erase all the big things?!
It doesn’t make sense to me that a God who created us… in His image… who gave us free will… who was there when Eve first ate of the fruit… who would love us so much that He would send His Son Jesus to die as a propitiation for our sins… would say, “Don’t sweat the small stuff… I got that covered. But the big stuff… well, you’re on your own for that.”
The Apostle Paul wrote:
“So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” [2 Corinthians 12: 7-10]
His grace is sufficient for you too.
… but I’m still spinning here…
For the love of food
Photo: Lea on Flickr
I have a confession to make: I just ate Mini-Man’s half-eaten pizza for dinner. In fact, I have subsisted for days at a time on nothing but kid-leftovers. It’s true.
I hate food.
There was a time I loved food – as evidenced by my not-so-svelte waistline – but those days are long gone. Now, food is a necessary inconvenience. With a 4 year old and a 7 month old, I feel like all I ever do is nurse, prepare food, feed someone and clean up afterwards. The other day I sat down to eat for the first time at 6:30pm and that was while the small one was crying from his bed. Not exactly my idea of an enjoyable meal.
I suppose they don’t make feed bags for children huh?
My normal day looks like this:
- 5:30am – Sit kid #1 down in front of the TV with a yogurt (yeah, I’ll do a whole post on TV use another day) and make coffee for me
- 6:00am – Nurse kid #2
- 6:30am – Prepare breakfast for kid #1
*after this is the time I may – or may not – fit in a shower* - 7:30am – Prepare solid food meal for kid #2 and feed it to him
- 8:00am – Nurse kid #2 and put him down for a nap while I clean up from his meal
- 9:00am – We go out… if we’re not out of the house by 9am I don’t get anything accomplished
- 11:00am – Back home again; nurse kid #2 and put him down for his main nap
- 11:30am – Prepare lunch for kid #1 & shovel something into my own mouth
- 12:00pm – Convince kid #1 to take a nap then clean up from his lunch
*when both are asleep I may get a nap or I may clean up random coloured debris strewn across my humble abode* - 1:30pm – Nurse kid #2
- 2:00pm – Prepare snacks for both kids and get out of the house for the afternoon
- 4:30pm – Return home and prepare and feed solid food dinner to kid #2
- 5:00pm – Prepare dinner for kid #1 while trying to entertain a fussy, tired kid #2
- 5:30pm – Put kid #1 down in front of the TV with his dinner (I know – mother of the year, right?); get kid #2 ready for bed then nurse him again
- 6:00pm – Put kid #2 to bed; he is often exhausted and over-tired at this point. Crying may ensue all around.
*this is also when I try and shovel some more food in my own mouth – usually cold since it’s been sitting since 5:30 or earlier* - 6:30pm – Put kid #1 in the bath and either continue trying to console over-tired, teething kid #2 or clean up from dinner.
- 7:00pm – Get kid #1 ready for bed
- 7:30pm – Finish cleaning up from dinner.
Now, I have been very successful at ensuring both my kids are in bed, quiet with the lights out by 7:30pm so that I have my evenings to myself. This schedule evolved naturally out of Mini-Man’s natural inclination towards an early bedtime as an infant. But I thank God for that quiet time in the evenings. Dave and I used to sit down to dinner together after Kai was in bed… at least up until he was old enough to benefit from eating with us. Then we had to start eating at 5:30/6:00-ish.
I think that’s when I lost my love of food.
The Proposal
I have a proposal: I would like the world’s finest medical researchers and food scientists to develop an IV or injectable substance that provides all the nutrition and energy we need to maintain optimal health. Wouldn’t it be great if we coud just plug in to a little machine… kind of like an insulin pump… and have it feeding us all day long every day? No blood sugar fluctuation, no one would be overweight or have high cholesterol… we could basically rid the world of the consequences of poor nutrition. If I never had to eat again I think it would be awesome… I think of all the extra time I’d have to enjoy life!
In the meantime, I wonder if I’ll ever enjoy a nice meal again…
Where the grass is greenest
Photo: ted.sali on Flickr
This post comes out of many conversations I’ve had lately with a number of different people who either are, have been, or will soon be married as well as many new moms trying to learn the ropes of parenting while maintaining some sort of harmony at home.
I also think a little on this topic anytime I notice the judgemental eyes that now land on my newly-naked ring finger as I travel to and fro with my two children in tow. I sometimes feel like wearing a t-shirt that says, “It’s not what you think.” But anyway, I digress as always.
I realized recently that I had no idea just how much my husband was a part of me; I never really realized how lost I’d be without him. Sure, I can manage… and I do. But the sense of unconditional love and security that he brought to my life and our home is now gone… and I never even really knew how strong that was until it was missing.
Marriage is all or nothing.
Blending two lives together is tough. I know it was a painful reality for me when I realized I had to let someone else’s life, goals, wishes, wants, dreams and plans factor into my decision-making. It took me a long time to get there… in fact, I can say in no uncertain terms that it was only after we were actually married that I fell in love with him with the married kind of love.
The first time the reality of marriage hit me was when Dave severely injured himself from a fall off our 2nd floor balcony when I was pregnant the first time. He had taken off the railing and was cutting some lumber when he slipped and lost his balance, falling to the concrete below, but not before hitting the scaffolding on the way down. He broke a couple of ribs, collapsed a lung and bruised his liver and was virtually incapacitated for weeks. After just 12 hours or so in the ER they said, “You have a wife; you can go home and she can take care of you.” It was then that I realized physically caring for another individual is actually in the cards when you say, “I do.” Whether that means helping them with bathing, using the bathroom, getting dressed or cutting up their food and feeding it to them. I thank God he didn’t sustain a spinal cord injury that day and I can only imagine the selflessness required to care for a permanently disabled spouse. But guess what? As his wife, that was my responsibility, even though I was pregnant and working full time. And if his injuries had been worse, my job would have been bigger. I’m not convinced many marriages start out with the kind of commitment it would take to get through something like that. I think that kind of commitment is something you grow into together.
The birth of our first son put a huge strain on our already imperfect relationship. Those first couple of years were excruciating. I hated being so dependent on someone else and I fought it with all my strength. I was so lost in this new world of motherhood coupled with an awful bout of postpartum depression I barely knew which way was up, couldn’t get enough sleep and went about my life oblivious to everyone and everything other than me and my son. My husband was left to feel lonely, confused and inadequate when he couldn’t solve my problem, but he loved us both so much he would have done anything to make it better. So he waited and worked hard to provide for us while taking on all the cooking and cleaning in our home so I was free to just be a mom. We barely spoke to each other for ages.
And then one day the fog started to lift.
Our life together started to take shape. Our son was older and more interactive; he and his dad became inseparable. I began to enjoy life again; most of all I delighted in watching my husband and my son together… our family. My family.
The point of this, at least where babies and parenthood is concerned, is that it is only a season in your life. It does pass. Kids get older and more self-sufficient; you eventually get more sleep and see the world more clearly; and as you learn to parent together you might actually find a deeper level of connectedness than you ever had before kids. I have said this in person to some new moms and I’ll say it again here:
Do not make any permanent decisions about your relationship until your child is at least two years old. Please. It will get better.
I actually think there is something to be respected about the old-fashioned way of doing things… staying together for the kids. People don’t do that anymore; some don’t even try. We’re all wrapped up in our own self-absorbed worlds and we want what we want without being able to see clearly beyond the here and now. We all want a partner who will place our needs above their own and many times moms have a tendency to put their children before their husbands (I can say this because I’m guilty of it myself). We play the “my life sucks worse than your life” game and bicker over who worked longer hours, who has it rougher, who has more household chores, who spent more money, who gets more “me time”. Then we find we’re meaner, ruder, snarkier to each other than we would be to a complete and total stranger.
If you have children, I think you owe it to your children to do anything and everything to not only make your marriage tolerable but enjoyable! If two adults without children find they both don’t want to live together anymore, fine. Part company. But your kids never asked to be dragged in to your mess and they never asked to live in a world where they’re expected to grow up and know how to have great relationships (or a relationship at all) without ever having witnessed one in their own home.
I received a great message from a marriage conference Dave and I attended once that really struck me: People always think the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, but the truth is the grass is greenest when it is cared for, nurtured, seeded, watered, cared for, aerated, mowed, fertilized, cared for… it’s a LOT of WORK to have a green grass. If you don’t take care of it it will fade and die.
The same is true of a marriage.
We spend hours upon hours at our jobs, our hobbies, our athletic pursuits, our education, our passions… how much time and energy do we spend on nurturing our marriage relationships? I know I didn’t spend enough, that’s for sure.
I feel really blessed that in the last year before Dave died, our relationship had again moved to yet another deeper level of commitment. It started when we found out we were expecting another baby. It was like something clicked between us and we realized we had absolutely no choice anymore but to work together if we were going to not only avoid the hell we went through the first time but move ahead with peace and joy in our home. We were so excited about it; we began to deliberately focus on enjoying our time together. When Mini-Boy was born our family felt totally complete and we were embarking on a brand new adventure of a lifetime.
It took 10 years before we got to feel that total oneness marriage is supposed to be about. And I count myself blessed to have known that kind of love.
Don’t give up.
All shapes and sizes
Photo: emmerogers on Flickr
Last night I ran Vancouver’s Underwear Affair 10km, raising money for cancers below the belt. The event was awesome. The course was so beautiful – from the Seaforth Armouries at 1st & Burrard along the entire False Creek seawall and back over the Burrard Street Bridge. Not surprisingly, this run is very much a spectator sport; hundreds of people racing in their underwear has a tendency to bring out the people-watchers in droves.
What I loved about the race was that there were bodies of all shapes and sizes donning their skivvies for a cause and, quite frankly, I was surprised and impressed with the level of confidence many of the runners seemed to display. I did not run in my underwear… mostly because I was running this event by myself and thought it would be weird without a team of buddies. But if I were to get a little group of friends together, I wouldn’t necessarily be averse to doing it in future.
Most of my life I’ve struggled with body image issues.
I’ve been fat; I’ve been thin; I’ve been in-between. I’ve had big boobs and small boobs. I’ve worn flattering clothing and not-so-flattering clothing; I’ve worn fully-covering wrap things on the beach and I’ve donned a bikini. I’ve made poor food choices; I’ve suffered from disordered behaviour including binge eating and over-exercising and I’ve smoked cigarettes to help me control my weight.
Even now I often think about having a few things fixed: The lines in my face seem to be developing at an astonishing rate, my mangled two-c-section tummy is a bit of an eyesore and the girls are not what they used to be; but beauty is more than the physical. Besides, what is the ideal anyway? God made all of humanity to have the same components in such varying shapes, sizes and colours that, aside from biological anomalies like identical multiples, there are billions of unique designs. Which one exactly am I supposed to be modeling myself after?
In the last couple of months I’ve developed an appreciation for the skin I’m in. Life is too short to worry about how well we stack up physically against those around us… besides, it’s not a contest.
When I think of how critical I’ve been of my body over the years I cringe when I think of just how normal I was and yet how awkward and destroyed I felt on the inside. And now with my beautiful imperfections I can at least appreciate that this body has grown two babies, run hundreds of kilometers, earned a black belt, jumped out of airplanes, and will spend (hopefully) the next 50 years or so serving my children, my family and friends and enjoying this beautiful life I’ve been given.
My friends, it’s time to start loving the bodies we’ve been given. Whether you’re tall, short, skinny, fat, freckled, hairy, balding, jiggly, muscular, dainty, scarred, lanky, apple or pear shaped… if you’ve got wrinkles, varicose veins, saggy boobs, man-boobs, a flat bum, a round bum, thick ankles, big ears, hair in the wrong places or nasty toenails, enjoy that you are alive for a purpose and that beautiful body of yours is the only one you’ve got.
… and I think it’s perfect, just the way it is. So does your mom.
How’s my driving?
Photo: Bobaloo Rox on Flickr
Maybe I’m not clear on the concept, or perhaps it’s you who is unclear, but my understanding of the purpose of the HOV lane is to spread out the traffic by allowing high occupancy vehicles to travel in a separate lane from the rest of traffic. Full stop.
The intention, no doubt, is that more people would consider carpooling to cut down on vehicle emissions. That said, it also allows those of us carrying passengers to travel somewhat more quickly than the rest of the poor suckers stuck alone in their cars. This is particularly advantageous at the end of a long and stressful day at the office when we know there are loved ones awaiting our smiling faces at home.
Now, let’s all take a moment to consider our driving habits, shall we?
Knowing first-hand the devastation caused by bonehead driving, I feel I have a renewed perspective on road safety. That doesn’t mean I’m that person who, with no other traffic in any other lanes, travels the posted speed limit in the HOV lane. I am, however, the person who drives with the flow of traffic but perhaps leaves a little more space in front of my vehicle than you might like. Please note, that does NOT give you any right to ride my bumper thereby endangering me and my children when we are already traveling 20-30km over the posted speed limit.
I assure you, Mr. Lowered Ford F150, that I am indeed traveling at the same speed as the vehicle in front of me… who also happens to be traveling the same speed as the 15 or so vehicles in front of him. Furthermore, we are still passing vehicles on my right every few seconds. Oh and by the way, yes, I do have passengers. They’re safely secured in their child safety restraints in the back seat of my tinted Jeep… you just can’t see them. That doesn’t mean they’re not there. And even if I did move aside as you would so clearly like me to do (don’t worry, I’m not mentally deficient and do know what you’re implying) you would still be stuck behind all those other vehicles going a mere 110km/hr in an 80 zone.
While I get a little miffed at your disregard for my safety, it is you who suffers with your high blood pressure and anger issues while you rant and rave and flip me the bird. You will be the one to find yourself in the intensive care unit one day, the victim of a severe myocardial infarction of your own creation. Then you really will be late for a very important date no doubt.
Not all of us are in a hurry to get where we’re going. Some of us actually want to elongate the time it takes us to arrive at our destination in order to allow our offspring sufficient rest prior to the completion of our journey. Just because you failed to allow ample time to reach your intended destination does not make us any more responsible for your subsequent failure to arrive on time.
Perhaps next time you might leave the house a little earlier… or get yourself a light aircraft as your primary mode of transportation.
Photo: Ruud Raats on Flickr
Three months.
It feels like forever and it feels like just yesterday. This weekend marks three months since Dave died and here is the continuation of my story. While most of the time I’ve felt fairly peaceful, this weekend was hard. It was shaping up to be a fantastic weekend: I had two music rehearsals on Saturday and was doing the music for my church on Sunday. I love a weekend full of music… something about it is so soothing.
Saturday morning started out well. I got mini-man settled at a friend’s house for a play date then took mini-boy to the church where another friend was going to spend the morning with him while I attended my rehearsals. I then headed up to school where the Black Bear Band was meeting for our final rehearsal before our last gig of the season – the Ladner Band Festival (gotta love the website – 1996 word art, but I digress…) on June 12th. Rehearsing wasn’t the reason I was attending, though… see, our music director – one of the top names in music instruction in the Vancouver area for the last 30 years or so – is leaving us and one of the band members composed a tribute piece in his honour. Saturday was the day we surprised him by performing it for him. To be honest, I was more emotional than I thought I’d be. While the band will, of course, go on, doing so without our fearless leader will be a real shift for us… but such is life I suppose.
So after the tribute piece was presented I had to jet to get to the church for my rehearsal for Sunday. I love singing with these guys… I’ve written before about how music affects me, but even amidst life’s trials, I feel like I was created to make music for God. Like that’s why he made me.
Sidenote: It’s so strange when I think back about it… when I was young – maybe in my teens – I did one of those career quizzes… the ones that tell you based on your likes and dislikes, interests and abilities, what you should consider doing for a living. Well the first suggestion was “Composer” and the second was “Music Director”… I thought, “Yeah… sure. You got the wrong girl.” But here I am some 20 years later writing music. Funny that.
After my rehearsal at the church I heard the Black Bear Band had gotten together at the pub… SOP after rehearsals and I was suddenly sad I couldn’t join them because I had mini-boy with me. I wanted so badly to spend a little more time with them before we break for the summer, but also found myself feeling very lonely given that I couldn’t get my mind off missing Dave. I wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by friends and laughter. I ended up letting the baby nap in the car while I ate take-out sushi and listened to some music in the mall parking lot. Yep, really exciting. All the while wishing I had some people to hang out with on this now beautiful day.
I cried.
I don’t cry often. I cry mostly when I’m stressed or frustrated… and I cry when I’m overwhelmed with joy and gratitude. But not usually for sadness; it’s very weird I guess. Maybe I just avoid it. It makes me uncomfortable. In addition to having two kids who keep me extremely busy most of the time, I’ve filled my life with sweet distraction… most likely to avoid facing the fact that Dave is, in fact, gone. Sometimes I still don’t believe it. Sometimes I feel like I didn’t love him enough though I know I loved him with all of me. I still do… and I see him in my babies. I can’t imagine ever not missing him terribly.
Many of my friends and family have been wonderful… some people I barely knew before March have been my biggest supporters and some people I thought would be there for me have been noticeably absent. My new friend Brenda has been a God-send to me. She has three kids of her own and the oldest is 4 ( a great match to play with my 4 year old – win!), yet she is so willing to take the kids for me when I need to go to appointments or even just out for a run. We have great conversations and I feel like I can tell her anything without fear of judgement. She has really made this much easier on me… I only hope that she doesn’t tire of me and my requests and that one day I’ll be able to repay her or at least pay it forward.
I’ve become very wary of single men. I have had a couple of single male friends who have just given me a vibe that made me uncomfortable and, while I am absolutely craving male attention, I don’t want to even put myself in the position to have someone seek out something I am completely unprepared to give. I am in no way, shape, or form “on the market”. So mostly I’m avoiding men altogether… even my friends. Even when I do find myself in a position to want to date again… the field is narrow my friends. Very. Narrow.
So for now I’m swinging between writing and playing music, staying active by getting to the gym and out to run as often as I can, learning to be a better mother (I picked up new art supplies and, get this… baking supplies just the other day for the next rainy afternoon at home), and avoiding my emotional reality at all costs.
We’ll see what the next month brings.
If you’re new to my blog or have just stumbled upon it through a search engine, you can read all the entries about the death of my husband here.
Photo: mtbjohn on Flickr
Sometimes I’m ashamed to call myself a Christian. And it’s not because I’m ashamed of the Gospel of Jesus or my faith in God, but I’m ashamed of the image of Christianity that has been shown to the world. Oftentimes I hear people recount their views on Christianity and what it is to be (in the words of my friend Sarah Bessey) a “happy-clappy Jesus lover” and I feel like my faith has been so completely bastardized by misinformation and false doctrine that everything in my soul feels like screaming out.
It’s not what you think it is!
Today I heard a message from God… directed at me. I’m sure of it. It was as if this morning’s sermon was poured out by God to minister to my heart and confirm everything I’ve been thinking, feeling and trying to explain to those in my life who question the foundation of my faith.
See, I’ve been going through one of the toughest things I’ve ever experienced. One of the biggest struggles I’ve been facing is redefining myself as a single mom, a single Christian and a mid-30′s single woman. I don’t know who I am on my own anymore. To be honest, I’ve never been on my own. I’ve been in 3 long-term relationships back to back since I was 16 with just tiny breaks in between. To make matters worse, I was never particularly good at being in relationships either (read in to that what you will). And the cherry on top is that I came to know my faith while I was married, so I have no idea who I am apart from my marriage.
Sure, I have a bucket list, so to speak… things I want to do in this life… but all my plans for my family centered around my husband’s hopes/wishes/dreams for us. I wanted to go where he wanted to go… I could be happy anywhere with him. What I don’t have now is a dream for myself and my kids apart from him. I don’t know how to behave each day when I get up in the morning.
So I’m a little lost.
In my lost state and my efforts to redefine myself, I have reverted back to some old behaviours that are less-than-healthy by most standards and certainly sinful by God’s standards… and when I say reverted back I mean more like I’ve embraced my failure to some extent and am kind of wallowing in it… enjoying my sin if you will. My faith life has taken a beating as I’ve struggled to pick up my bible in months and have barely been able to eek out a prayer other than “God, anything you want me to do you’re going to have to do through me, because I’m pretty helpless at the moment.”
I’ve never felt so far from Jesus yet so uplifted by his grace in all my life.
I’ve had several conversations with friends recently about this stuff and I keep coming back to the same point: I never earned my salvation to begin with and I sure can’t work to keep it. God knows me and my faults, my habits and hangups… he created me. He loves me. Just as I am. No matter what. And forever.
Today’s message was a giant confirmation for me that what I’m feeling is indeed spirit-inspired.
The Revelation
I once had a revelation during a group prayer time before a Sunday morning service. It was so sudden and so clear I told the whole congregation during the worship service: God showed me a picture of a clay jar full of cracks and holes… falling apart, barely held together. From all the cracks and holes came a radiant light. This is us. This is the body of Christian believers. This is the potential for humanity… the more cracks and holes we have the more the light of Jesus can shine out of us. The more broken we are, the more opportunity for God to show himself to the world.
If we were perfect, what would we need God for?
The Message
The sermon today was titled “The Treasure Within”. The main point was from 2 Corinthians 4:7 – “But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.”
It was about the broken clay jar.
“Spiritual growth is not a straight journey from weakness to power… but a journey in both weakness and power. (…) We all see things in our life that show us how far short we fall from the ideals of holiness and the ideals of wholeness (…) It’s at times like that we need to embrace again the gospel of grace.”
“We’re fallible. We’re human. (…) God will use each one of us to do remarkable things. (…) There’s no place for pride; there’s no place for self-reliance if you understand the treasure in the earthen vessel – that we must understand our limitations. (…) We must not be surprised by our own failures. (…) God will use every failure … and he will bring out of that new growth.”
“Four areas of concern…
1) Applauded temptations/addictions: Not all temptations prickle with danger… some things look very virtuous: perfectionism… how legal we become. Workaholism… busyness… The greatest sin is not your failure, it’s your presumption that we can succeed without full dependency on Christ. Our goal is maturity, not perfectionism… God is more interested in your love than your perfectionism.
2) Inconsistency in reading scripture and prayer: Inspiration and enthusiasm wear out… take your hands off yourself, submit yourself to the Lord. It’s not a matter of willpower. That will always run short… what it is, is embracing the power of a vision… who God is calling us to be in Christ Jesus. There will be frequent lapses… half the time we’re just plain lazy… Just offer yourself to the Lord. “Lord, this is what I am unless you help me.”
3) Comparing ourselves to others: One of the most common tendencies is to idealize other peoples’ experience… we may think they don’t have any problems… God is never in a hurry. He’s at work in you… if things don’t seem to be happening fast for you, you’re normal.
4) Looking for a zap rather than knowing Christ in a greater way: Many people crave for revival… that’s not my purpose. My purpose is to know him better… growth is slow and steady.”
“How God uses our imperfections…
Our imperfection discloses our helplessness apart from the Lord… God uses our imperfections to cultivate an honourable humility… there’s no room for any kind of pride. God shows us our limits through our failure… an honourable humility, which often the church lacks… there’s nothing about the vessel for us to be bragging about. God uses our imperfections (…) to stimulate my patience and gentleness with others… people carry a lot of loads… our imperfections drive us in to the arms of grace.”
“Through the cracks, people can see the treasure.”
[Download the full sermon: Pastor Owen Scott - Lynn Valley Full Gospel Church]
Closing Thoughts
If anyone who professes to be a Christian claims to be without sin I’m calling them out right now. They’re lying.
Christians flip the bird at other drivers. Christians drink too much. Christians use drugs. Christians use foul language. Christians lust, watch porn and have affairs. Christians lie and cheat. Christians hold grudges. Christians can be downright mean… I could go on… and on… and on…
I believe with all my heart that God just wants me to be honest with him about where I’m at. That’s it. The moment I try to hide myself is the moment my faith begins to crumble. But even in my failures and my weakness, as long as I’m continuing in my communion with God in an honest way, he will be near.
And I can still see his works in my life.
I can see his love poured out on me when I needed help most. I can see how God prepared my heart and my household for Dave’s death. I can see answers to my prayers – even if they’re few and far between. I can see my life moving towards the direction I’m destined for. I can see people blessed by me and TRUST ME… it’s not because of anything I do.
I’m involved in ministry and considered stepping away from service because of how I’ve been behaving lately… but one morning last week I sat down and just started to praise God. He IS still God, after all. And I heard his voice… “Don’t stop praising.”
God moves in mysterious ways… but no one will be without sin in this lifetime. Grace was made for lives like ours… and God is still God.
“And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” Phillipians 1:6