I worry about my children...A LOT. In these days of 24 hour news channels, hundreds of parenting books, and sensational tabloid magazines informing us constantly of all the dangers the world has to offer, it is hard not to worry. Parents are so much more aware of child predators, chemicals in our environment, and rare but deadly diseases than ever before. Being the informed mother I am, I do everything I can to keep my children safe. My baby sleeps on her back, my older children wear helmets when riding their bikes, we all wear sunscreen when spending time outside, we filter all our water before drinking it . The list goes on...
I am usually overly cautious and careful as can be, but recently I knowingly broke an important safety rule. It was one of those days, the kind that starts with bickering children and spilled cereal. After breaking up fights and crunching through my kitchen my patience was waning when the children and I set off on a few errands. The kids were continuing their earlier disagreement as they buckled themselves into our packed minivan like a bunch of little sardines. The van, which seats 7, left no spare space for our family of 7 and the children were sitting shoulder to shoulder without even an inch between them. In a moment of weakness, impatience, and perhaps incredible irresponsibility, I invited my 11 year old daughter into the, previously forbidden, front seat. I know the guidelines say that children under 12 are safest in the backseat but I needed a bit of peace in my car and I knew I wasn't going to get it as long as the kids were sitting practically on top of each other.
A most unexpected thing came out of this chaotic spur of the moment decision. My oldest child, who tends to be a lot like her father and keeps to herself much of the time, started to talk to me. She was not asking for a snack or complaining about her math work. She was chatting with me about her thoughts. In my busy, sometimes crazy household of 5 children, I struggle to find an uninterrupted minute to spend time alone with each of them to just talk and hang out. I am, many times, distracted and preoccupied at home. My oldest daughter is quiet. She does not always want to share her thoughts and feelings with others and I have found the more I push her, the more she withdraws. At times, I have worried about our relationship, wishing she was more comfortable coming to me and talking to me about anything. I have prayed, in the past, that God would show me a way to grow closer to her.
I never would have thought the answer to my prayer would be to break the rules but sometimes God does work in mysterious ways. It was a few weeks ago when I first invited my daughter into the front but ever since, she has remained my talkative travel companion as she rides shot gun. In this time, she has shared with me many stories, ideas, and opinions. I have had the opportunity to listen, relatively undistracted, and to see her get excited about sharing things with me. I have enjoyed the chance to spend more time with my daughter who, for the first two and a half years of her life was my only child, my constant companion, and my favorite little buddy. I am so impressed with the young lady she is growing up to be and I am so grateful she is willing to share her thoughts with me. Though the experts may not say it is safe, our new travel arrangement is working wonderfully. My daughter and I are once again growing close and our van is now a more peaceful place to travel...except, of course, for the younger children whining from the backseat, "why does she get to sit in the front?!?!?!?"
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The failure that haunts me still....
Growing up I was always a good student. I did well in reading, math and art class. I got good grades in science and social studies too. The only thing I really struggled with in school was P.E. class. I was just never very athletic. I remember dreading my class’ weekly hour in what we called gym class and wishing I could somehow get out of it.
I could never get a hit when we played baseball. I could never make a basket during basketball. I could never serve the ball over the net when it was time for volleyball. The only time I did not completely embarrass myself was on the rare occasion we would enter the gym to find stations set up with different activities to do as individuals. There would be hula hoops to play with, stilts to walk on, mats to tumble on, and my sister’s all time favorite-- ropes to climb. Then there was that other station. The one I most clearly remember. It consisted of two plastic crates, one full of colorful scarves and the other small plastic balls. This was the juggling station. The idea was to practice juggling the scarves and, once that was mastered, move on to the balls. Now, in all honesty, even on individual stations day, I still did not excel at P.E. I was not great at the hula hoops, I could only stay on the stilts for a minute or two. I could hold my own with somersaults and cartwheels but never progressed to any fancier tumbling. I did okay on the ropes but always got very nervous the higher I went. But the scarves, well, that was actually a little bit fun. I enjoyed tossing those colorful scarves and than quickly trying to catch them all again before the gently floated to the filthy gymnasium floor. I could keep up with two scarves at a time and eventually graduated to three. Because this was something I was okay at, I did not want to ruin it by pushing myself too far. I never even attempted to juggle those little plastic balls. I steered clear of the second plastic crate and stuck to what I was most comfortable with.
The good news, all these years later, is that failing at P.E. has not held me back in life too terribly much. As a 34 year old mother of 5, I cannot tell you the last time I even had the opportunity to play basketball or walk on stilts, let alone the need to do it well. But the juggling station...well now I can see it would have been well worth the effort to have truly mastered the art of juggling. The truth is I do wish now, that I would have tried so much harder to really succeed at the juggling station. How I would have benefited from trying my hand at keeping several of those small plastic balls up in the air all at once, instead of concentrating on the scarves which presented no challenge to me at all.
As a home schooling mother, I could really use those juggling skills I had the chance to perfect so many years ago. These days, I feel our home classroom is a lot like a three ring circus. I have a fifth grader, a third grader, and a first grader to teach and instruct, all while caring for a 2 month old infant, and all of this, in between drop off and pick up at my 4 year old son’s preschool. Juggling my life is a whole lot more like the hard plastic balls, which would sting if they fell on your head, or would roll away if you let them drop to the floor, than like those lovely bright scarves that just floated in the breeze.
I guess this experience just goes to show me that every opportunity to learn in this life is worth taking! Now, though, it is time to sign off, because my children are demanding my attention. And since I am not a very good juggler, I guess I need to concentrate on one thing at a time!
I could never get a hit when we played baseball. I could never make a basket during basketball. I could never serve the ball over the net when it was time for volleyball. The only time I did not completely embarrass myself was on the rare occasion we would enter the gym to find stations set up with different activities to do as individuals. There would be hula hoops to play with, stilts to walk on, mats to tumble on, and my sister’s all time favorite-- ropes to climb. Then there was that other station. The one I most clearly remember. It consisted of two plastic crates, one full of colorful scarves and the other small plastic balls. This was the juggling station. The idea was to practice juggling the scarves and, once that was mastered, move on to the balls. Now, in all honesty, even on individual stations day, I still did not excel at P.E. I was not great at the hula hoops, I could only stay on the stilts for a minute or two. I could hold my own with somersaults and cartwheels but never progressed to any fancier tumbling. I did okay on the ropes but always got very nervous the higher I went. But the scarves, well, that was actually a little bit fun. I enjoyed tossing those colorful scarves and than quickly trying to catch them all again before the gently floated to the filthy gymnasium floor. I could keep up with two scarves at a time and eventually graduated to three. Because this was something I was okay at, I did not want to ruin it by pushing myself too far. I never even attempted to juggle those little plastic balls. I steered clear of the second plastic crate and stuck to what I was most comfortable with.
The good news, all these years later, is that failing at P.E. has not held me back in life too terribly much. As a 34 year old mother of 5, I cannot tell you the last time I even had the opportunity to play basketball or walk on stilts, let alone the need to do it well. But the juggling station...well now I can see it would have been well worth the effort to have truly mastered the art of juggling. The truth is I do wish now, that I would have tried so much harder to really succeed at the juggling station. How I would have benefited from trying my hand at keeping several of those small plastic balls up in the air all at once, instead of concentrating on the scarves which presented no challenge to me at all.
As a home schooling mother, I could really use those juggling skills I had the chance to perfect so many years ago. These days, I feel our home classroom is a lot like a three ring circus. I have a fifth grader, a third grader, and a first grader to teach and instruct, all while caring for a 2 month old infant, and all of this, in between drop off and pick up at my 4 year old son’s preschool. Juggling my life is a whole lot more like the hard plastic balls, which would sting if they fell on your head, or would roll away if you let them drop to the floor, than like those lovely bright scarves that just floated in the breeze.
I guess this experience just goes to show me that every opportunity to learn in this life is worth taking! Now, though, it is time to sign off, because my children are demanding my attention. And since I am not a very good juggler, I guess I need to concentrate on one thing at a time!
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Basking in the Son
I have lived in Florida longer than I've lived anywhere else in my entire life. Tim and I moved here over 12 years ago, just because. My parents were living here and after visiting them we fell in love with the beautiful scenery, the breathtaking views and, of course, the tropical weather. We visited them for a week in early July 1997, and literally two weeks later packed up all our belongings and moved here ourselves. We have been enjoying our life in the Sunshine State ever since.
When we first moved here we appreciated the mild climate, the bright blue skies, and the beautiful coastline so much that we spent every Sunday afternoon basking in the sun on the white sand of Clearwater beach. The beach had such an allure we started going on Friday evenings as well. After living up north for our whole lives we were truly grateful for the warmth of the south. We loved our Florida home and the lifestyle that came with it.
Over time, though our love for the Sunshine State did not really diminish, we stopped going to the beach every week. Life got busier, and we got more and more used to the beautiful sights all around us. We started taking it all for granted. The beach would always be there next weekend if we just couldn't get there this weekend.
Every once in a while I am still reminded of how lucky I am to live here though. Recently a missionary priest visited our church. He had spent 17 years serving the poor of Kenya and shared many stories of his life there. He told of people, who were so poor they had only one meal a day, walking up to two hours to attend Mass on Sundays. He went on to point out, that after the two hour walk and the hour long Mass another two hour journey was required to then return home. I was struck by the dedication of a people who, though probably weak from hunger, so appreciated their faith that they were willing to go to great lengths and great sacrifice to take part in weekly Mass. I found myself thinking about their plight and even more importantly, their faith. It struck me that perhaps, though I have plenty to eat, I am the one who is truly weak. I realized that my own faith, or at least my own appreciation of my faith and my Church, seemed to be greatly lacking when compared to theirs.
I am so blessed to live here in Florida, here in America, not only because the sun is always shining but more importantly because the Son is always available to me. I can, at any time, walk to my own church in less than 15 minutes time. I can make it there in only 2 minutes time by car. I can sit before the Blessed Sacrament or attend daily Mass and receive, into my own body, the Eucharist every day! Yet, like the sun shining in the sky above me, I have come to take the Son, shining forth His love upon me, for granted. If I don't make it to Mass today, there is another one tomorrow.
Every once in a while I look at the magnificent views around me and wonder how I can ever get too busy to appreciate it all. Yet, I am even more often too busy and distracted to appreciate the beauty and magnificence of my Catholic faith. It is so easy, in my life of ease and comfort, to lose sight of the greatest blessings in my life. It is so easy, knowing the Church is right around the corner, to put off visiting it. How sad it is that the greater our opportunities to meet God, in our Church and in the Sacraments, the less we appreciate Him. I pray I will learn from the poor how to be really grateful for the riches of faith that I have, and I pray I will not take the ability to bask in the Son for granted again.
When we first moved here we appreciated the mild climate, the bright blue skies, and the beautiful coastline so much that we spent every Sunday afternoon basking in the sun on the white sand of Clearwater beach. The beach had such an allure we started going on Friday evenings as well. After living up north for our whole lives we were truly grateful for the warmth of the south. We loved our Florida home and the lifestyle that came with it.
Over time, though our love for the Sunshine State did not really diminish, we stopped going to the beach every week. Life got busier, and we got more and more used to the beautiful sights all around us. We started taking it all for granted. The beach would always be there next weekend if we just couldn't get there this weekend.
Every once in a while I am still reminded of how lucky I am to live here though. Recently a missionary priest visited our church. He had spent 17 years serving the poor of Kenya and shared many stories of his life there. He told of people, who were so poor they had only one meal a day, walking up to two hours to attend Mass on Sundays. He went on to point out, that after the two hour walk and the hour long Mass another two hour journey was required to then return home. I was struck by the dedication of a people who, though probably weak from hunger, so appreciated their faith that they were willing to go to great lengths and great sacrifice to take part in weekly Mass. I found myself thinking about their plight and even more importantly, their faith. It struck me that perhaps, though I have plenty to eat, I am the one who is truly weak. I realized that my own faith, or at least my own appreciation of my faith and my Church, seemed to be greatly lacking when compared to theirs.
I am so blessed to live here in Florida, here in America, not only because the sun is always shining but more importantly because the Son is always available to me. I can, at any time, walk to my own church in less than 15 minutes time. I can make it there in only 2 minutes time by car. I can sit before the Blessed Sacrament or attend daily Mass and receive, into my own body, the Eucharist every day! Yet, like the sun shining in the sky above me, I have come to take the Son, shining forth His love upon me, for granted. If I don't make it to Mass today, there is another one tomorrow.
Every once in a while I look at the magnificent views around me and wonder how I can ever get too busy to appreciate it all. Yet, I am even more often too busy and distracted to appreciate the beauty and magnificence of my Catholic faith. It is so easy, in my life of ease and comfort, to lose sight of the greatest blessings in my life. It is so easy, knowing the Church is right around the corner, to put off visiting it. How sad it is that the greater our opportunities to meet God, in our Church and in the Sacraments, the less we appreciate Him. I pray I will learn from the poor how to be really grateful for the riches of faith that I have, and I pray I will not take the ability to bask in the Son for granted again.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Blessed for our efforts
Last year, at just about this time of year, our family participated in the 40 days for Life program in our local community. All six of us went to pray in front of an abortion mill and stood in a very prominent spot on the side of the road with our rosaries in hand and our pro-life message on signs that we held overhead. The experience was very positive for all of us, from Tim and I to our then three year old son. I wrote about the blessings that came out of the experience in one of my earliest blog entries entitled Become like little children. It turns out the blessings may have been even greater than I could see at that time....
This year, we were once again invited by the organizers of the 40 days for Life in our area to offer our prayers in front of the same abortion mill. Tim took our oldest two children and prayed with them on the side of the road, as I stayed home with the younger three kids and prayed from the safety of our family room. It just did not seem practical to stand on the side of the road, just a few feet from rushing traffic, with a 6 week old baby. As I prayed, it occurred to me that one year ago I would not have expected to be now holding our little bundle of joy, blessed with a beautiful new life in our own family.
Upon further thought it occurred to me that maybe I should not be at all surprised by this interesting little coincidence. It has happened before....
A little more than seven years ago the Respect Life committee at our parish launched a program they called spiritual adoption. The idea was to "adopt" an unborn baby who was at risk of abortion and to pray for them for nine months in the hopes of saving lives. Of course, one would never know the outcome of these prayers, as the unborn child was known only to God and the prayers would remain forever anonymous. Both Tim and I eagerly signed up. We took home brochures which explained the program and included information on the development of the baby from conception to birth. It even had a place to name "your" baby. We chose names and I hung the brochures on the refrigerator to remind us to daily offer our petitions. During the nine months we prayed, we were happy to find out we were expecting our third child, making our prayers for an unborn baby even more meaningful to us.
The spiritual adoption program was so well received they introduced it again two years later and again we participated. This time we were blessed with a very unexpected surprise pregnancy of our own. We welcomed our fourth child just before the nine months of our spiritual adoption wrapped up.
Now, I am not sure if it is the prayers and petitions we have offered that has made us more open to the new life God had already intended to send us, or if it is more a gift and blessing bestowed by God as a sort of reward for our pro-life efforts that has resulted in the blessings of our three youngest children but it does seem that as soon as we pray for life God abundantly answers our prayers! I am so very, very grateful for my beautiful family. My life and my home are full of 5 of God's amazing gifts of life. I only hope that He understands why I felt it necessary to warn Tim to be careful what he prayed for as he left the house for this year's "40 days" participation. I am just not quite ready to handle any more of God's answers to our pro-life prayers!
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Where did my newborn baby go?
My baby is growing up too fast! I know it seems silly to say that already. After all she is only 6 weeks old and just now reaching 10 pounds, but in only 6 short weeks she has changed so much! She was born at 7 lbs, 5oz, small and dainty (though she did, even then, have very round chubby cheeks). She has filled out quite nicely and now the adjective "robust" comes to mind as I look at her sleeping in her bassinet. Her thighs and belly have rounded out to match her, now even chubbier, cheeks. And the bassinet, which had so much room for her to stretch out in when we first brought her home, now leaves her very little room to grow. The crib will have to be cleaned up and assembled this weekend so she will have somewhere to go in the next few weeks when she is officially too big for her newborn bed. Though I am so very grateful she is healthy and growing so well, it saddens me to think I am already having to say good bye to her newborn days. I wonder why the time really does fly by so quickly and why babies grow up too fast.
Speaking of growing up too fast, not long ago my oldest daughter celebrated her 11th birthday. We held her party on the same day that the baby hit exactly one month old. If you are a parent yourself I do not have to tell you that I really do not know where all the years have gone. It really does seem like days ago that I brought my first daughter home from the hospital and laid her lovingly in the crib that will now house her baby sister. I was watching my oldest and youngest girls recently as the former held and snuggled the latter. As so often happens these days, tears sprung to my eyes and I found myself pondering the eleven years of my motherhood. It occurred to me that if the next 11 years go as quickly as the past 11 years have gone, my first child will be 22 years old before I know it. I was 22 years old when I got pregnant with her!
These thoughts threaten to truly depress me at times. I really wish I could freeze the time for just a while, so I could enjoy my children's youth longer. I sometimes even wonder why does God let the time fly so fast? But then I think about the sleepless nights, the ill-timed messy diapers, the unexplainable fussy times, and my feelings of being overwhelmed that are also a part of the newborn experience. The truth is if it lasted any longer I would probably go crazy but if it went any quicker I probably would be deeply depressed. God has timed it all so perfectly!
I also think about all the fun that is still to come. If I had frozen my oldest child's infancy I would have missed out on her adorable toddler stage, her precocious pre-school years, and watching her grow from a tiny, helpless infant into a beautiful young lady. No, we cannot make our children stay little for long. We cannot make them babies forever but we can try our best to enjoy the experience as long as it does last.
I realize that I really don't want to stop time from passing. I could not handle the extreme exhaustion that I felt the first three to four weeks of the baby's life for any longer than I had to. I would not want to be forever stuck with my post-partum weepiness (or my post-partum body!). And I definitely don't want to rob my children of the amazing experience of growing up and developing into the people God created them to be.
Instead of focusing on the gloomy thought of my children's passing childhood I will try to remember to slow down and take pleasure in each moment with them. I will also remember that as a stay-at -home/home schooling mother I am blessed enough to not have to miss even a minute of their fleeting youth!
Speaking of growing up too fast, not long ago my oldest daughter celebrated her 11th birthday. We held her party on the same day that the baby hit exactly one month old. If you are a parent yourself I do not have to tell you that I really do not know where all the years have gone. It really does seem like days ago that I brought my first daughter home from the hospital and laid her lovingly in the crib that will now house her baby sister. I was watching my oldest and youngest girls recently as the former held and snuggled the latter. As so often happens these days, tears sprung to my eyes and I found myself pondering the eleven years of my motherhood. It occurred to me that if the next 11 years go as quickly as the past 11 years have gone, my first child will be 22 years old before I know it. I was 22 years old when I got pregnant with her!
These thoughts threaten to truly depress me at times. I really wish I could freeze the time for just a while, so I could enjoy my children's youth longer. I sometimes even wonder why does God let the time fly so fast? But then I think about the sleepless nights, the ill-timed messy diapers, the unexplainable fussy times, and my feelings of being overwhelmed that are also a part of the newborn experience. The truth is if it lasted any longer I would probably go crazy but if it went any quicker I probably would be deeply depressed. God has timed it all so perfectly!
I also think about all the fun that is still to come. If I had frozen my oldest child's infancy I would have missed out on her adorable toddler stage, her precocious pre-school years, and watching her grow from a tiny, helpless infant into a beautiful young lady. No, we cannot make our children stay little for long. We cannot make them babies forever but we can try our best to enjoy the experience as long as it does last.
I realize that I really don't want to stop time from passing. I could not handle the extreme exhaustion that I felt the first three to four weeks of the baby's life for any longer than I had to. I would not want to be forever stuck with my post-partum weepiness (or my post-partum body!). And I definitely don't want to rob my children of the amazing experience of growing up and developing into the people God created them to be.
Instead of focusing on the gloomy thought of my children's passing childhood I will try to remember to slow down and take pleasure in each moment with them. I will also remember that as a stay-at -home/home schooling mother I am blessed enough to not have to miss even a minute of their fleeting youth!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Life Marches On...
Tim and I bought a one year old minivan in May of this year. In late July we were having problems with one of the warning lights. It would not turn off no matter what we did. The problem was a bad sensor which was, thankfully, covered by the warranty. Except when we went to have it fixed, we were informed that we had voided the warranty in our efforts to remedy the problem ourselves and avoid an unnecessary trip to the dealership. We had the car fixed, at our own expense, a week before our new baby was born.
As I wrote about in my post "an ode to Swine Flu..." everyone in my family, except our new baby, came down with a highly contagious virus that left us feeling miserable and run down even after the fevers had passed. This happened a mere two weeks after bringing baby home from the hospital.
My four year old son went to pre-school for the first time that same week as all our illnesses. He loves school and is doing well. This is a wonderful thing except that getting him ready causes me an enormous amount of trauma each day. Most mornings he eats his breakfast of dry cereal from a zip lock bag while I drive him to school. One day we forgot his backpack at home. I did not discover this until I was dropping him off at school and he hopped out of the car empty handed while all the other kids toted their well packed bags on their little backs. On another occasion we were all walking out to the car after our usual hectic morning when my oldest daughter exclaimed, "hey, you need to get your shoes on!" I glanced over to see my son, ready for school, with his backpack on this time, all prepared to attend school bare footed. This event unfortunately illustrates the norm around here.
Tim's new year of youth ministry started the first week of September. He has been very busy attending meetings, preparing his calendar, and planning fund raisers. He has been working crazy hours and is often not home until the sun has gone down. Because he works a second job, out of our house over night, he often has to start working again as soon as he gets in the door. It seems he has something going on every evening and every weekend for the foreseeable future. I am attempting to handle the home front while he works hard to provide for us all.
Over this past weekend we arrived home from Mass and noticed the house felt unusually warm. As the day wore on the temperature continued to rise inside and we realized that though we could hear the air conditioner running it was doing nothing to cool the place down. We suffered through three days of hot, humid Florida weather as we waited for the repairs to be done. Then, of course, we handed over a hefty amount of money to cover the cost of those repairs.
Over the course of my long nine months of pregnancy I envisioned the first few weeks of life with baby. I prepared our house and planned our school schedule around the baby's birth so we would have time off to settle in after her arrival. I told myself I would be able to truly appreciate the time because the other children were older and more self sufficient this time around. I believed I would spend my days rocking the baby and snuggling her in peaceful relaxation. I thought we were organized enough to enjoy a few weeks of quiet serenity before we had to start back to the normal routine of school and busyness. As you can see, despite my plans, life has marched on as crazy, busy, and unpredictable as ever. As usual, Gods plans differ from mine in almost every way imaginable! As always, though, He sees me through each chaotic day and blesses and strengthens me along the way. And though I am tired, overwhelmed, and completely unorganized at this point, I am eternally grateful that God's plans did include a healthy baby and a family overflowing with love for her....and me.
As I wrote about in my post "an ode to Swine Flu..." everyone in my family, except our new baby, came down with a highly contagious virus that left us feeling miserable and run down even after the fevers had passed. This happened a mere two weeks after bringing baby home from the hospital.
My four year old son went to pre-school for the first time that same week as all our illnesses. He loves school and is doing well. This is a wonderful thing except that getting him ready causes me an enormous amount of trauma each day. Most mornings he eats his breakfast of dry cereal from a zip lock bag while I drive him to school. One day we forgot his backpack at home. I did not discover this until I was dropping him off at school and he hopped out of the car empty handed while all the other kids toted their well packed bags on their little backs. On another occasion we were all walking out to the car after our usual hectic morning when my oldest daughter exclaimed, "hey, you need to get your shoes on!" I glanced over to see my son, ready for school, with his backpack on this time, all prepared to attend school bare footed. This event unfortunately illustrates the norm around here.
Tim's new year of youth ministry started the first week of September. He has been very busy attending meetings, preparing his calendar, and planning fund raisers. He has been working crazy hours and is often not home until the sun has gone down. Because he works a second job, out of our house over night, he often has to start working again as soon as he gets in the door. It seems he has something going on every evening and every weekend for the foreseeable future. I am attempting to handle the home front while he works hard to provide for us all.
Over this past weekend we arrived home from Mass and noticed the house felt unusually warm. As the day wore on the temperature continued to rise inside and we realized that though we could hear the air conditioner running it was doing nothing to cool the place down. We suffered through three days of hot, humid Florida weather as we waited for the repairs to be done. Then, of course, we handed over a hefty amount of money to cover the cost of those repairs.
Over the course of my long nine months of pregnancy I envisioned the first few weeks of life with baby. I prepared our house and planned our school schedule around the baby's birth so we would have time off to settle in after her arrival. I told myself I would be able to truly appreciate the time because the other children were older and more self sufficient this time around. I believed I would spend my days rocking the baby and snuggling her in peaceful relaxation. I thought we were organized enough to enjoy a few weeks of quiet serenity before we had to start back to the normal routine of school and busyness. As you can see, despite my plans, life has marched on as crazy, busy, and unpredictable as ever. As usual, Gods plans differ from mine in almost every way imaginable! As always, though, He sees me through each chaotic day and blesses and strengthens me along the way. And though I am tired, overwhelmed, and completely unorganized at this point, I am eternally grateful that God's plans did include a healthy baby and a family overflowing with love for her....and me.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Riding the waves of marriage
Ebbing and flowing. These words conjure up images of water, rivers streaming through valleys and meadows, ocean waves lapping on the sand or gushing forth and rushing back in dramatic fashion. Some years ago I heard these words used to describe marriage. At the time, I thought it was an odd way to refer to the normal ups and downs within marital relationships. Lately I can see that my relationship with Tim really does resemble a stream which drifts along ebbing and flowing.
Tim and I married young. He was 22 and I was 21. We still had a lot of growing up to do and were somewhat naive about relationships. Our early years were a lot like white water rafting, full of waves and whirl pools. It was exciting and tumultuous all at once. Sometimes we felt close and comfortable with each other and other times we were at odds with one another. We argued and fought, sometimes for days at a time. But though they lasted a while, the fights were few a far between and, for the most part, we talked and laughed together, growing closer and maturing together.
We welcomed our first child only two years after our wedding and the water got a little more rough for a while. Life was like a hurricane stirring up enormous waves and turmoil as we adjusted to the new role of parenting. We fought a lot more and distance grew between us. Though the water was rough for quite a while we toughed it out and life eventually became smooth sailing again.
Over the years, life and our relationship have continued to rise and fall like the waters of the sea. There are times I feel as close to Tim as I do to my own thoughts. And there are times I am incredibly frustrated with him and feel he does not understand me at all. I have come to realize that relationships do ebb and flow. It is normal to go through times of ease and comfort and just as normal to go through times of struggle and suffering.
Lately I have felt more like a co-worker of Tim's in the job of parenting than I do a friend and companion . As we once again adjust to a new baby in our family, our relationship, which had been flowing along beautifully for many years, is now stirred up and tumultuous on many days. Thankfully, we have learned that our marriage is strengthened more as we ride the uncertain waves of life together, than at any other time. As much as I want it to be, my marriage cannot be free from struggles and challenges any more than my life can be. It is only by facing everything in life, including our challenges, together that Tim and I can grow in our relationship. As long as we are committed to each other, and to a life of faith and prayer, we will survive the rushing torrents once again and come out all the better for it.
Tim and I married young. He was 22 and I was 21. We still had a lot of growing up to do and were somewhat naive about relationships. Our early years were a lot like white water rafting, full of waves and whirl pools. It was exciting and tumultuous all at once. Sometimes we felt close and comfortable with each other and other times we were at odds with one another. We argued and fought, sometimes for days at a time. But though they lasted a while, the fights were few a far between and, for the most part, we talked and laughed together, growing closer and maturing together.
We welcomed our first child only two years after our wedding and the water got a little more rough for a while. Life was like a hurricane stirring up enormous waves and turmoil as we adjusted to the new role of parenting. We fought a lot more and distance grew between us. Though the water was rough for quite a while we toughed it out and life eventually became smooth sailing again.
Over the years, life and our relationship have continued to rise and fall like the waters of the sea. There are times I feel as close to Tim as I do to my own thoughts. And there are times I am incredibly frustrated with him and feel he does not understand me at all. I have come to realize that relationships do ebb and flow. It is normal to go through times of ease and comfort and just as normal to go through times of struggle and suffering.
Lately I have felt more like a co-worker of Tim's in the job of parenting than I do a friend and companion . As we once again adjust to a new baby in our family, our relationship, which had been flowing along beautifully for many years, is now stirred up and tumultuous on many days. Thankfully, we have learned that our marriage is strengthened more as we ride the uncertain waves of life together, than at any other time. As much as I want it to be, my marriage cannot be free from struggles and challenges any more than my life can be. It is only by facing everything in life, including our challenges, together that Tim and I can grow in our relationship. As long as we are committed to each other, and to a life of faith and prayer, we will survive the rushing torrents once again and come out all the better for it.
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