nostalgia, part one

So wow, it's August! Erm, it's actually past the middle of August... the 17th, to be exact. Last year on this day I was 10 days away from going through one of the most horribly painful, life-altering, and wonderful experiences of my life, but I didn't know it yet. I was blissfully unaware of the deep valley I was about to go through, and ignorant of the love-explosion that was about to happen. I was still worried that I "wouldn't love Jude" (oh I laugh at myself now) because I'm really not much of a "baby person".

What's amazing to me is how much I've changed. Not just in the obvious way- of course I love my son. And that is a dramatic understatement. It's like the day he was born a door in my heart was opened to reveal a whole room that I didn't have before... my heart actually grew a whole new section. (Figuratively, of course. No extra aortic chambers here) So that's the obvious way in which I've changed, and while it seems obvious now as I look back (duh, I'm going to love the heck outta that baby) it was so new and scary and I was so skeptical *before* I had him. I'm positive it was the grace of God that I have this vast amount of love for him now. And boy am I glad, because you kind of need vast amounts of love to make it through all the crap babies can throw at you. Literally and figuratively. ;)

The not-so-obvious ways in which I've changed are harder to put my finger on; harder to define in so many words. I'm more tender, more attuned to others' suffering, more responsible (ha), more sensitive to emotional pain, and more patient with things that would have driven me batty before, it's like I have this well of patience inside me that amazes me... I often think to myself "why am I even able to deal with this right now??" I know all these things aren't fundamentally from ME, they are gifts of the Holy Spirit as he works on changing me from the inside. And boy, did I need changing. Do. Still DO need changing.

That's another thing that this parenting gig is bringing out- just how selfish I really am. I mean, it's not like I always just LOVE making baby meals 4x a day, cleaning up hands, face, hair, highchair tray, table, floor, walls, etc. after each meal, changing the 3rd poopy diaper of the day- at noon, worrying over whether he getting enough food, etc, etc, etc. There are definitely times when I think back fondly on the years of just "R&R" (without the "J") and wish we could be that carefree again, and sometimes I begrudge the day-in, day-out tasks of my chosen career. It's never been more obvious to me just how much I need *continual* changing, by the power of the Holy Spirit. It's just been so interesting and amusing to me to watch the Lord use my 'lil Jude-man as that agent of change.

And a cute little agent he is, dontcha think?

on freedom

When my last post about guilt cross-posted over on Facebook, I got a lot of comments agreeing and sympathizing with me. One of my friends (hi Lindsay!) said "Guilt.Guilt.Guilt. I live with it daily. I would love to be FREE from it.
Please, oh please." Her use of the word "free" really hit me, and I started mulling over the concept of freedom and what it means to be truly set free from something.. in this case, a crippling mindset.

I wrote in the FB comments: "Honestly, I don't want to come under condemnation for 'how good I am' or 'what I do', because that is just NOT from Christ. It's self-imposed. And I'm the only one measuring me against some unrealistic ideal woman-mother-wife that lives in my head. (She has a flat tummy, by the way. haha) And I really don't want to be characterized by feeling guilty about what I'm 'supposedly' failing in. What a killjoy, huh?"

I think the thing is that I am imposing this guilt-complex on myself. No one tells me I'm doing a bad job as a mother or a wife (or friend, or daughter, or sister... the list goes on). In fact, I hear the opposite 100x more often that I ever hear any whisper of missed expectations from anyone. It's all in my head. That same friend also commented "I compare myself to "PerfectWoman" all the time. The thing is, I take bits of "perfection" that various friends have, then combine them all into SuperWoman and expect myself to live up to her. It's not easy to let that go." So we make up a composite woman who has every skill we think we need, then come under self-imposed guilt when we don't live up to PerfectWoman.

So that's the crippling mindset. Where does freedom come in? My friend Johanna wrote: "And also? There is therefore now NO condemnation for those that are in Christ Jesus. So take that fail/guilt!" There is a difference between condemnation and conviction. As I've been thinking about this, I think that condemnation is this self-imposed guilt that I've been battling and talking about here. It's not *only* self-imposed, it can come from others too (more on that later, maybe!), but in my case, it's all me, baby. It's me telling myself that I'm not living up to something that I'm simply not called to live up to, Biblically speaking. I think that conviction, on the other hand, is from the Holy Spirit and points out the places where I'm not living up to what I AM called to do... like say, live peaceably with all men, or any number of Scriptural mandates. The hard part is figuring out which one I'm feeling at the moment. Sometimes it's clear to me in my head, and sometimes it's really confusing. And understanding is only half the battle, the other half is actually pulling out of the fog of feelings. Reminding myself of scripture verses helps, listening to friends speak the truth is a huge help for me too. Sometimes I just have to beg God for grace in the moment to get me out of the slump, and keep me out. And He will... He does. It was for freedom that we were set free!

I know I've quoted this song here before, but I can't get over how good it is... the message of freedom- freedom FROM my sinful self-centeredness, and freedom TO confidence, love, joy, and peace- is HOPE, even for selfish, whiny, self-condemning people like me.

Derek Webb's Lover. Watch it.



Lyrics | Derek Webb - Lover lyrics

My favorite verse is the last:

"I am my beloveds and my beloved's mine
so you bring all your history and I'll bring the bread and wine
and we'll have us a party where all the drinks are on me
then as surely as the rising sun you will be set free "

It's just humbling and amazing to me that His blood + body are for ME right now, and continuously, as I struggle through the daily ins and outs of life, not just for "my past". That's power and promise that changes me from my fog of self-centeredness, (*whine, whine* "I'm not doing everything right" "I'm not PerfectWoman!" *whine whine*) guilt, and shame, to humble confidence that my God is (right now!) supplying what I need to do what He as asked me to do. He is enough. And that brings me freedom.

(Now I need to remember this "preaching to myself" post tomorrow- when PerfectWoman appears in my mind again, wearing heels and an apron around her 25-inch waist, pulling rack of lamb out of the oven!)

on guilt

It's Sunday morning and I'm catching up on my blog reader (qualifier- we go to church on Saturday nights). Yes, I felt the need to put a qualifier; you'll understand after your read the rest of this post. I came across this post from OMG Mom about "mommy guilt". Go read it then come back and read the rest of this post, it will make so much more sense.

Read it? Okay, good... carrying on then. All I can say is that I TOTALLY relate. Why do we do it to ourselves? I have no idea, but that guilt is almost always there, no matter which option I take. Illustration: Just yesterday Jude flat-out refused to eat or take his bottle except for a little bit in the morning. The day before at his 9-month checkup (which I was 2 months late for. GUILT) our doctor lectured me that he needs to eat more/more often. GUILT. But then my sensible side kicked in and I wanted to ask if *she* has a picky 11-month old. (No. she is a single, successful young doctor and is obviously rolling in dough. Hate) So when Jude wouldn't "EAT, dammit"... I got mad. Really, really mad. I didn't scream at him or anything, but he knew I was mad because I was banging plates and slamming cupboard doors like a 5-year-old. GUILT. So then what happens later that night? He comes down with a raging fever. Turns out he wasn't being obstinate and making my life miserable by not eating his peas like I thought (really? an 11-month old?), but he was getting sick. GUILT. I got mad at a sick baby for not eating. SHAME.

So I'm trying to make it better today by only giving him his favorite foods (bananas + yogurt) and not making him finish it, but THAT is making me feel guilty because I keep seeing Rich Single Doctor in the back of my mind shaking her head and writing notes on Jude's chart as she observes my failure to include protein. GUILT.

So now I'm eating a piece of toasted banana bread in bed from Starbucks, even though I still have 15 lbs. of pregnancy weight to lose. GUILT. And I just got a text from my good pal Johanna about the freaking *triathlon* she was in this morning. She's down 40 lbs. from her pre-preggo weight and her baby is only 6 weeks older than mine. FAIL. GUILT.

I can't win.

But I can do makeup really well, for what THAT'S worth.

last week...

...was a very good week. The time spent with my parents was so much fun, and non-stop action! It's kind of amazing to me how my parents, at nearly 60ish, can outlast Rob and I- and Jude- but they can, almost every time. They're pretty much the busiest, most productive, go-go-go people I know. I love their drive and purposefulness and vision of life, God, and family. I get excited around them, i feel like life just has so much potential, and the possibilities are endless. Inspiring and tiring!

We kicked off their visit with a BBQ in our common area with our small group and some new friends. Can't go wrong with burgers, beers, and buddies. (Okay yeah, that was cheesy, I admit)

In the middle of the week, we took a roadtrip "up north" to Duluth for a two-nights' stay in a historic home. While we were there, we toured the Glensheen Mansion, a gigantic turn-of-the-century mansion (so. awesome.), walked along the shore of Lake Superior, watched one of the biggest barges on the Lake go under a bridge (quite the local spectacle), and spent our relatively lazy evenings on the screened-in porch eating various organic local offerings from the "Whole Foods" down the street. (I quote the name because while they were called Whole Foods, they were not part of the national chain, and made a point to make that known)

Mom and I also found time to hit up various consignment stores while she was here (of course!) and we both came away with some stellar finds. I got something like 10 items for about $20, including a brand-new pair of Ralph Lauren trouser jeans, and Mom did even better. Plus, it's always more fun shopping with her than going alone!

I ran across a Groupon for 1/2 off a dinner cruise on Lake Minnetonka (just southeast of the Twin Cities area) so we concluded the week with a narrated cruise while munching on delicious fajitas and gawking at the multi-billion dollar mansions on the shoreline. Such fun!

My favorite snapshot of the week was taken on the deck of the dinner-cruise yacht:



I already miss them.

I'm not a blogger...

...and I'm finally coming to terms with it.

Really though, every time I think "oh that would be a fun thing to blog about" I actually just end up Tweeting it, which automatically posts it to Facebook, where I get loads of comments and interaction... and that does it for me. But then when I do actually want to post a blog entry, I am immediately filled with guilt about how much time has passed since I last blogged (hmm, reminds me of my journaling habits) and I feel compelled to explain why I haven't posted anything in... 6 months? I And I really don't like blogging about blogging. Or not blogging, as the case may be. :P

AT ANY RATE, here I am now. I'm taking it easy this morning while Jude is down for his morning nap and Rob is at work; I spent yesterday in a cloud of dust, cleaning supplies, and decorations in preparation for my parents' visit. They got here yesterday afternoon on a plane that was an hour and a half late, forcing me to waste 5 gallons of gas circling the baggage claim before giving up and parking, wasting 6 dollars and an hour trying to keep a curious and tired 10-month-old happy in a crowded, dirty airport. But that's another story.

I pulled a fast one on my folks and had our small group over for a cookout last night, which they helped with, and seemed to enjoy, despite being up since 4 am. They really are good sports! After everyone left, we sat out on our deck admiring the sunset while Rob read a bit from one of his latest favorite books, Notes From The Tilt-O-Whirl. Then we decided to be super-spiritual and watch Jim Gaffigan... but not before watching a selection from the Beatles Anthology; the video of their live broadcast of "All You Need Is Love" (and flowers in your hair, apparently).

It was a lovely evening, but I think we wore my parents out because it's 10:15 am and they are still sleeping, which is unheard of. My mom is usually up with the birds, and my dad almost always makes a coffee run before Mom gets up. But I do have to remember that it's two hours later here than it is in Nevada, so to them it's only 8:15. Rob and I kept Jude sufficiently quiet when he woke up at 7:30 (thank you, God- a sleep-in morning for me!) and now he's already been zonked out for an hour. As is obvious, I casually sashayed over to this dusty old blog to see if anything creative sprang to mind to share with the faceless masses on the nebulous blob that is The Internet.

We have lots of fun things planned for the week; tomorrow we're heading up to Duluth for two nights, then dashing home in time for Rob to make Saturday evening worship practice and church, I have a wedding on Sunday for which I am doing the makeup on a LOVELY bride and several bridesmaids at a gorgeous historic mansion, then on Monday we're going to explore Lake Minnetonka and gawk at all the muli-million dollar houses, finishing the evening off with dinner aboard a yacht. 'Twill be a lovely, busy week! We may even have to squeeze a trip to the zoo in there somewhere, too.

I love that I have so much fun with my parents; they are getting cooler and even more fun the older I get... or am I getting older and less cool? Either way, we love hanging out together and talking about God, life, trials, encouragements, and the occasional glass of good wine. I saw this on Postsecret a few weeks ago, and had it saved in an open browser window on my iPhone since then... I was planning on emailing it to my mom, but it really fits this post well:



It's true, it really is.

And now, I'm going to go make avocado toast and coffee, then get ready to go check out a sale at TurnStyle (local consignment chain) and maybe hit Trader Joe's for Duluth-trip snacks. Greek yogurt, perhaps?

Until next time, my friends!

nine months

Thirty-eight and a half weeks ago:



Thirty-nine weeks ago:



Now:



Nine months is a big milestone in my mind. It's exactly the length of time that Jude was alive *inside* of me, and today he's been breathing air *outside* of me for exactly nine months. It's just a special date to me. To celebrate, he got his first tooth a few days ago! The funny thing is, it's not a bottom center tooth, not a top center tooth, but a top *side* tooth. Yep, little Mr. Snaggletooth! It's really cute and quirky... I'd share a picture IF he would let me take one. But every time he shows it off when he's laughing, I reach for the camera and his lips clamp together in an airtight -and mama's fingers tight- seal. So, no dice. I'll have to tag-team it with Rob so one of us can make him giggle and the other can stealthily snap the photo. I can see the corresponding tooth on the other side about to come in, too... AND it looks like the center two are not far behind. Overachiever.

In other news, Rob is deep in the midst of writing his last papers, sermons, outlines, summaries, and book reviews for BCS. Today he had his last class (YAY!) and tonight at the stroke of midnight his last paper is due. It's been rough around here; he was at the resource center at the BBC downtown campus until 3:30am a few nights ago, then last night he pulled a serious all-nighter, I came out at 8am and he was still in the same spot that I had left him 8 hours before. (yes, I sleep in late. So does Jude. Most of the time) Currently, Rob is at the resource center finishing one of his 20-page papers on Edwards, or worship, or the book of Acts. I hope to see him before I go to bed. That man has been so hard-working, I can't believe it. BCS has been harder on him than we imagined; he started the first year off by being late to the kick-off picnic because we had just rolled into town after driving all night and day back from Oklahoma for his grandma's funeral. The first day of class this year was August 27th. Yes, the day of Jude's big debut. So Rob has always felt a day late and a dollar short. But he has absolutely made the best of it, despite working three jobs equalling 35+ hours a week on top of his full load of classes. Shew! And all I did was grow, birth, and have 24/7 care of a helpless human being. To say we've had a busy few years would be an understatement. :)

I was talking to my Dad tonight, and he and my Mom have been doing some "inventory" of their own. He told me that in the last 10 years they have been to Africa to preach/teach five times, buried all four of their parents, married off their daughter (who moved half-way across the country), saw all their sons leave the proverbial nest (and also move far away), and remodeled two houses from top to bottom. While pastoring a church. Good grief, my parents NEVER slow down. And I love them for it.

I'm really excited about the next phase of life, not only for us, but also for my parents and my brothers. We're all in places of transition right now, and it's a little scary, a lot risky, and- since Jesus is our anchor- very exciting.

Even though Rob is done with all the official BCS work, he does have 4 more classes that he will be taking; he is in the Worship Concentration, and these four classes weren't offered earlier. The standard schedule for these classes is one per semester for another two years, but Rob is talking with the professors to see if there's any way we can consolidate that into just one more calendar year. So, if all goes well, we will be totally and completely DONE and graduated at this time next year. Which means... well, it means a lot of things. All along we have been asking God to show us just enough "light" for each step as we take it, and right now, the step after BCS graduation isn't lit up. But we're fairly sure a move from Minneapolis is most likely in the works. Where to? No idea. haha, I love this risk thing! Until then, this summer is going to full of relaxation, day trips (dangit, we are GOING to Duluth!), family visits, and plenty of BBQ's and late-night stargazing. Starting tomorrow.

Bring it.

today, I am grateful.

I'm grateful that I get to change Jude's poopy diaper. Again. And again.

I'm grateful that I didn't get to rest this afternoon because he took a short nap. I heard his happy baby sounds only 45 minutes after I put him down, not after an hour and a half, like usual.

I'm grateful that I have a big hamper full of dirty baby clothes and spit-up stained cloths to lug down 4 flights of stairs to the wash.

I'm grateful for his new-found skill of rocking back and forth on all fours, his face beaming up at me like he has just climbed a mountain, because for him, he has.

I'm grateful that he can see with his blue eyes, hear with his perfectly flat little ears, move his chubby little baby arms and legs, and can make noise (oh the noise!) with his fat little lips.

I don't want to take these "common mercies" for granted. I know that laundry and poopy diapers and crying babies aren't the most thrilling things, and they are definitely not the first things that come to mind when I "count my blessings". But there are some mothers who long for these things and do not have them... like my friend Jane whose firstborn has Cerebral Palsy and will never walk... or my friend Sarah who delivered her firstborn at 20 weeks, feeling his tiny kicks all through her agonizingly early labor until moments before his stillbirth... or my friends Molly, Amanda, and Shae whose babies died inside them just weeks before they were to be born, wiggly and squealing, into happy, welcoming arms.

I want my eyes to be opened to see the beauty of the mundane, and my heart to be made alive to the mercy of God that is mine with every new breath I take. I don't want to take any of the moments I have *right now* for granted, no matter where I am on my journey. My friend Leslie reminds me of this; she lost her son when he was 19. My friend Holly reminds me of this; she lost her only brother last year when he was 16. Life is a gift.

More often than not, I forget this. Without realizing it I start to live with the assumption that I deserve my life, and it should be happy, easy, and "normal", and then I slip into the thinking that I'm owed a happy, pain-free life. I want to keep the thought before me that each new morning is a gift I don't deserve, made possible by the hand of God, and I want to use it to live out my praise and thanks to the Giver of life. He *sustains*. And that is what I am grateful for today.

And now, I need to go change a poopy diaper.