I find that I think best when I write. If you choose to follow me, you will get a first-hand look at my thoughts as I contemplate life as a woman, wife, mother, daughter, writer, teacher, and follower of Jesus. Issues that seem to recur revolve around parenting, ministry, chronic illness, and teaching.
We spent the weekend with our granddaughter. She is just two and a half weeks old and weighs just over seven pounds. We have only seen her twice, but we are head over heels in love.
Everyone said it would happen. They warned us that we were in for a ‘new kind of love’. And I am sure that we have had just a taste, but that taste has made us want more and more.
We lost hours holding her and staring at her while she was sleeping — watching her face change from peaceful, to smiling, to irritated, to sleepy. We talked to her and walked with her and fed her and changed her. We were amazed, truly amazed, by this little life that we knew nothing about just a short time ago. We examined her fingers and her toes. We touched her hair and smelled her skin. We took her in.
And now, sitting in my house by the river, I am looking at the photo of her tiny little hand inside the larger older hand of her grandfather. How many times will he hold that hand? When she’s crying, or scared, or excited, or angry. How many times will he wish that he could hold that hand? When she’s far away or busy or holding someone else’s hand.
Right now she is so tender and pure — a brand new blank book with all kinds of stories waiting to be written. So many of us are watching in wonder and amazement. All she has to do is breathe and we are awestruck. One little accidental smile and we beam. Nothing that gets written in this book will change the ridiculous love we have for this little girl. We are just overcome with happiness to be witnesses to this brand new life and whatever it holds.
We pray we get to hold her hand from time to time, but when we can’t, we rest assured that she is resting safely in the palm of His hand — the One who formed her inmost being, the One who knows the plans He has for her, the One who has redeemed her and called her by name. He holds her in the palm of His hand, for she is His and He made her.
Psalm 139:14
I praise You because [she] is fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful.
I sent you a little subliminal message yesterday; I don’t know if you saw it. In the midst of explaining my need for a day without driving, I mentioned that I had been busy for six days. In a row. Many of you are saying, “Welcome to my life.” I know. I used to live your life. I used to move at break-neck speed for days, weeks, months, even years at a time. But, guys, this is the Next Chapter.
When we were packing to move to Michigan, I remember sitting in a chair as my husband packed stuff into boxes asking me what I wanted to keep and what I wanted to get rid of. Why was I sitting in the chair? Because I didn’t have the strength, the physical strength, to pack a box. And I thought I would always feel that way.
When my daughter graduated from high school last May my mother and older daughter were in town to help. I went to work every day. They cleaned my house from top to bottom, did all the grocery shopping, prepared all the food, and basically ran my life for me. Because I couldn’t do it myself. And I was beginning to believe that I would never be able to do things for myself again.
On moving day, my husband and a dear friend of ours followed behind the movers cleaning our house so that renters could move in when we left. They worked tirelessly for hours while I drank water, then tea, then water, then tea. Our daughter volunteered to run out for lunch, knowing that I didn’t have a plan; I was busy sitting on the couch catching my breath.
All last year, I would groan myself out of bed in the morning, shower, get dressed, drive to school, interact with students and colleagues all day, then drink some caffeine to help me stay awake for the twenty minute drive home. I rarely cooked. I did the minimum around the house. I tried my best to interact with the people I love. And then I fell into bed — often before 7:00pm.
For much of August and September, here in the house by the river, I carefully planned my days so that I could have a rest either in the morning or in the afternoon. I was sure to fit in a walk or some other exercise, but I often spent several hours either reading or watching TV. My big accomplishment most days was preparing dinner for my husband.
But guys, it’s January, and I worked six days in a row. Now they weren’t the ten-hour days of my former life, but they did involve getting dressed, driving to meet a student, preparing for that student, interacting with her, and then driving home. Not only did I meet with a student, I also did some proofreading for another student, encouraged the grad student I am working with, sold a half-dozen items on eBay, prepared paperwork for the tax man, cooked, cleaned, exercised, AND interacted with others socially. Without a nap. Without going to bed at 7:00pm. Ok, I have to be honest. Near the end of that stretch I crawled into bed one night at around 7:30 and read until around 10:00. I was physically exhausted, but not yet ready for sleep. And then yesterday, I really needed the day at home. But you know, being home, I still did laundry, cooked dinner, dusted and vacuumed, paid the bills, and managed to interact with people that I love.
Guys, it’s the Next Chapter! I am feeling better, not perfect, but better. I am finding a new pace that seems to be working. I am learning to listen to my body and take a break when I need one. I’m not pain-free, but who is?
Now, I’m not going to run back to my old life, although it was meaningful, and important, and great at the time. In fact, I don’t know fully what the Next Chapter looks like, but I am hopeful. I may need rest along the way, but I am confident that I will have plenty to do in this Next Chapter. Thanks be to God.
2 Corinthians 5:5
Now the one who has fashioned us for this very purpose is God,
who has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.
I’m not getting in my car today. I guess I should say, “Barring any unforeseen emergencies, I am not getting in my car today.”
When I was working full time, having a day when I didn’t have to get in the car was my idea of a day off. Some people love to drive, not me. I appreciate the fact that we have a vehicle, don’t get me wrong. I am blessed to be able to drive to the gym, to the grocery store, to visit family, and to run for coffee. But I just don’t love being in the car.
For one thing, I don’t sit well. Even when I am at home, I move around a lot. My family has gotten used to the fact that while we watch movies I fold laundry, or iron, or work on a puzzle, or play Words With Friends. I have trained myself to linger after meals to chat without stacking and clearing the dishes. I’ve already shared how I deep clean while talking on the phone. I’m not good at being still. Not even in the car.
For another thing, I appreciate the risk that comes with driving. I am a fairly good driver, contrary to my brothers’ opinions. I can drive in heavy traffic in the city, and I know how to be cautious in rain or snow. However, I am not the only one on the road. Countless individuals climb behind the wheel everyday — some of them texting, or talking, or intoxicated, or distracted, or otherwise ill-equipped to be behind the wheel. We are all just one poor choice away from an accident. I appreciate that fact and the stress that comes with the risk of driving.
For the last six days I have driven every day. I have had lots of social and work appointments. I have enjoyed them all — tutoring, and exercising, and going to Bible study, and joining friends for dinner. It’s been fun! And tomorrow we are climbing into the car to drive to Cincinnati to see our granddaughter. More fun! But today I need a day when I don’t have to get into the car.
I’ve already had the parade of beverages (thanks to my new, functioning blender). I’ve done my Bible study. Now, I’m going to do my Pilates while still in my pajamas. I plan to finish a book I’m reading, handle some paperwork that is piled on my desk, and cook a proper meal for dinner. I’m going to breathe deeply today, cuddle with Chester, and maybe even throw on my boots and trudge through the snow with him on a mini-walk.
But I’m not going to get in the car.
Tomorrow? That’s another story. I’ve already made the list:
Make the final Minimalist Challenge donation
Stop at the bank
Exchange books at the library
Go to gym
Meet with former student
Drive to Cincinnati.
Yep, it’s going to be another day in the car. But today? Today I will rest.
Isaiah 30:15
In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength.
Today is Wednesday, and one of the blessings of not taking a regular job is that I get to stay in my Bible study. I can’t believe that I didn’t even know these ladies just five months ago; they are becoming some of my dearest friends.
In the fall we had around sixteen women every week; now, because many of our gals flew south for the winter or have chosen not to brave the wintry roads, we are down to about nine or ten. The size of our group is different, and so is our study. We spent the fall studying 1 and 2 Thessalonians; now we are getting up close and personal with the Sermon on the Mount.
What hasn’t changed is the sense of belonging and community that I felt from the first moment. These gals look forward to seeing one another. We pray together, study the Bible together, laugh together, and sometimes even cry together. When one shares a burden, others offer encouragement. When one celebrates, all celebrate. And all kinds of partnerships have formed within the group. Some have partnered to collect funds for missionaries, or toiletries for the homeless, or to gather books for inner city children. Others meet for coffee, or lunch, or to go walking. One calls on another who is lonely. Another stops by to check on one who has difficulty getting out. True community.
Today in our study we discussed our failures in life — how we regret them, how we have learned from them, and how God has used them to draw us closer to him. One woman, reflecting on her life, expressed wonder at the fact that God has shown her mercy — he didn’t give her what she deserved. The teacher in our study shared that when we do wrong, we pray for mercy, but when others do us wrong, we pray for justice. Ouch, that hurt. How powerful would it be, if each of us who had been shown mercy would pay it forward and show mercy, overwhelming mercy, to those who have wronged us?
As the teacher shared those thoughts, the nods and knowing glances, the conviction and the desire to change were shared among the women. These women, not one of them younger than I am, acknowledged their need to grow, to change, to repent, to draw closer to God.
The power in that is phenomenal. The encouragement is undeniable. What if nine women in a small town in Michigan decided to go about showing mercy to those in their lives — their spouses, their children, their neighbors, their pastors, their leaders, their coworkers?
I left Bible study, ran a couple of errands, and found myself at my desk in my house by the river. I picked up my personal devotion book, which today, using the metaphorical language of battle, encouraged me to Arm myself for battle (with the Word of God), Stay on course (with God’s purpose as my goal), Stick close to my battalion (my girls, of course), and to Stay alert (for opportunities and for hindrances). When I got to the part about ‘sticking close to my battalion’, I smiled. My sweet ladies are quite the battalion — I wouldn’t want to oppose them. They are strong in number, united in purpose, and fully armed for battle. I am proud, and blessed, to join their ranks.
I Thessalonians 5:11
Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.
In 1989 I began my professional teaching career in a small second-story classroom near the corner of Seven Mile and Van Dyke in Detroit, Michigan. I had nine students in a self-contained classroom. Each of my students had been diagnosed with a learning disability, attention deficit disorder, or some other ‘problem’ that prohibited his or her success in the ‘regular’ classroom.
So why did they get me? God only knows. I was fresh from college with only a semester of student teaching under my belt — student teaching in a high school classroom in Ft. Wayne, Indiana. Although I had worked for eight months in a group home with behaviorally ‘disordered’ girls, I had little to no experience with students who had these kinds of learning challenges. I had no special education certification. None. I had one course in college called ‘The Exceptional Child’. What did I think I was doing?
Ah, to be young and invincible.
That year in that small classroom with those kids — Larry, Larry, Braun, Andrea, Charmaigne, Andrew, Maia, Chris, and Robert — began to shape my heart and create the cheerleader/coach within me that would get in the corner of many kids who believed they couldn’t do it, were doomed for failure, and didn’t measure up. I was so determined not to fail at this first job, and none of them were going to fail either. Not one.
I’m not going to lie, it was a chaotic year. I had to learn how to respectfully disagree with my principal. (Yeah, that was an ugly lesson.) I had to acknowledge that I had no clue what I was doing. (First privately, then for all the world.) And I had to find my allies. (Two male coworkers who found great joy in pranking me and getting me to laugh at them, and ultimately at myself.)
I have no idea if I taught those kids anything that had to do with the curriculum. I am not even one hundred percent sure that I knew what the curriculum was! But do you know that I piled all of them into a 15-passenger van and drove them from Detroit to Ann Arbor, participated in chapel at my alma mater, checked out the Ann Arbor Hands-On Museum, then went out to lunch at Pizza Hut with our Book-It Rewards? I paid no attention to time, so we got caught in rush hour traffic on the way back to school and I returned them to their parents far later than our anticipated arrival time. I don’t remember any parents being upset at our tardiness. In my memory, they all matter-of-factly retrieved their kids and thanked me for taking them on the field trip.
That classroom was the germ-infested petri dish that fostered the growth of Rathe-isms such as “what they say says more about them than it does about you,” “anybody can change,” and “see what had happened was.” Each of those Rathje-isms, my students will tell you, has a sermon attached to it that gets recited year after year after year.
It’s 2015. Last week I was tutoring a high school freshman who is scared to death to take her first round of semester exams. She kept saying, “I’m not good at __________.” I was transported back in time to my little classroom in Detroit where I started coaching students to say, “I’m getting better at ___________.” I looked across the desk in the basement of a home in Dexter, Michigan and said to the little freshman, all 95 pounds of her, “We’re going to change that phrase. You’re going to start saying ‘I’m getting better at _____________.”
I loved that class in Detroit. They taught me so much. I’ve been sharing their lessons ever since.
Philippians 1:6
“…he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”
I’m kind of in a funk this morning. I think it’s because I have a to-do list staring at me that I really don’t want to deal with. It involves at least four phone calls. I hate phone calls.
Ok, there are very few exceptions to this rule. If you are my mother, my sister, my father, my brother, or my child, I do not hate your phone calls. (The word ‘sister’ also includes my close female friends — you know who you are.) Did you notice I didn’t list ‘husband’? I don’t even like to talk to my husband on the phone. We often tell about when we were dating and living in different locations — he would call and I would say, “so, what did you want?” I really don’t like the phone. I won’t tolerate it if there is any other way I can communicate with you.
In fact, if you are my mother, my sister, my father, my brother, or my child, you have likely grown accustomed to the fact that while I am talking to you, I am most likely doing dishes, deep-cleaning my kitchen, folding laundry, washing windows, or even ironing. I do really want to talk to you, but I have to be doing something while we chat to take my mind off the fact that we are actually on the phone. I just don’t like the phone.
But today’s calls? Yuck! They are the worst of all calls! I have to call two agencies to communicate change-of-status details. Then I have to call two separate hospitals — one here and one in St. Louis — to manage billing. Double yuck!! Finally, I have to call our health insurance company for end-of-year tax statements. Triple yuck! I can’t put these calls off! I already have! They have to happen today. And since I will already be good and grumpy about being on the phone, I have tacked on a phone call to schedule dental appointments.
In my mind, each of these phone calls is going to take sooooooo long and be filled with frustrating complications, time on hold, and little annoyances. Yes, I have my grumpy face on, my arms are crossed, and I’m stomping around my house a little bit.
In fact, I even procrastinated on blogging this morning because I’m so grumpy. I don’t have anything positive or witty to say. I’m a grump. No one wants to hear from a grump.
All this grumpiness because of a few phone calls? Silly, huh? Ok, I’m just going to quite whining and get started. How bad can it be, anyway?
Romans 5:3
“we glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance.”
***Yes, I do realize that I am not really ‘suffering’ here. Wink, wink.
On Monday, I wrote about our recent cultural transition to social distancing in my post, Time Out. This post from January 2015, explores another time that I made a big transition.
My blender stopped working this morning. I think it got jealous of all the other items that have been leaving my house via the Minimalist Challenge and wanted to join them. It’s going to get its wish.
I filled the blender with all my healthy ingredients — almond milk, cashew butter, banana, etc. — then pressed the button that usually makes it whir and blend. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. This happened once last week, but I walked away, came back a few minutes later, and it miraculously worked. Not today. I walked away with the rest of the parade of beverages, did my Bible study, then came back. Still nothing.
Since I moved to Ann Arbor, I have embraced routines. Ok, let me honest, for my whole life, I have embraced routines. I like repetition. I like order. I like predictability. So, I usually go through the same motions each day — smoothie, tea, devotions, writing, exercise, etc.
My husband, a teacher turned therapist turned pastor turned dean of students, told me shortly after I moved here that “routines are one of the best ways to manage a transition.” I am in the middle of a pretty significant transition — moving from working full time to not working, moving from Missouri to Michigan, moving from city living to campus living.
We all spend our lives in transition, don’t we? We transition from childhood to adolescence to adulthood to middle age to old age. We transition from single to married and perhaps back to single again. We transition from summer to fall to winter to spring. We are always in transition. Perhaps that is why we crave routine.
In the past week or so I have heard many people say, fresh from the holidays, “I am looking forward to getting back to my routine.” Our days have beginnings, middles, and ends that are largely very repetitive. We like that. So what happens when something happens to disrupt our routine?
We sleep through our alarm. The power goes out. The basement floods. We lose our job. We get sick. Someone dies. Our blender stops working.
It’s a disruption. We have to stop in the middle of that beloved routine of ours and regroup. When we sleep through the alarm, we have to establish new priorities — shower or no shower? breakfast or no breakfast? notify the people who are waiting for us or break the speed limit to get there on time? When we lose our job, we have to reevaluate life and make some choices — find a new job? move to a new town? go back to school?
Our blender stops working and we have to decide what in the world are we going to eat for breakfast.
This morning I didn’t want to stop in the middle of my routine. I was already a little tight on time. I didn’t have a backup plan for something healthy to eat. And, guys, all the stuff was already in the blender! So what did I do? I kept moving for a bit. I went to my office and drank my other beverages, but without the smoothie, they were out of order!!! This ruffled me a little, but I pressed on. I got through my morning email-checking and devotion-reading and checked the clock. I had to leave soon if I was going to meet my friend for a Pilates class. Should I make a bowl of oatmeal? grab a Kind bar? I thought about it as I got dressed, washed my face, and put in my contacts. I walked back into the kitchen and pressed the button on the blender one more time. Nothing. Sigh. I couldn’t just leave all those precious ingredients sitting in the blender on the countertop, so I poured them into a bowl, mashed the banana with a fork, stirred and swished as blender-like as I could, and ate that stuff with a spoon. Bam. Problem solved.
I wish all disruptions were this easy to manage, don’t you? This small disruption didn’t shape the rest of my day or the rest of my week, but many disruptions do. Some disruptions change our lives forever — an unexpected illness, a death, a global pandemic. No amount of routine can prevent such disruptions or prepare us for their impact. So, we may all of a sudden find ourselves reeling, desperately searching for something to hold onto.
When I find myself in such a position — feeling out of control and a little terrified, I return to routines — regular wake up and bed times, daily exercise, consistent food choices, and regular Bible reading and prayer.
Today, as I anticipate unprecedented uncertainty, I am thankful for my routines. Last night I set up my home office in preparation for telecommuting which begins today and lasts for the foreseeable future. More now than ever, I will return to my routines. I’ll get up at the same time, read my Bible, write my pages, practice yoga, take a shower, eat breakfast, and report to work on time just as I have been doing. Over the years, I’ve found that patterns like these provide the structure that anchors me.
Routines remind me that as sure as the sun rises each day, so does God remain the same. His mercies are new every morning.
Every morning I wake up and make a parade — a parade of beverages. It’s all part of my quest for wellness. Each member of the parade serves a purpose (or several purposes). Let me guide you through.
The first member of my parade is a tall glass of water. Here in the little house by the river, water comes out of the tap at room temperature or warmer. Weird, I know. I run it through my Brita filter, pour it into my tall insulated tumbler over a few ice cubes, then take the first swig to chase down the handful of pills that I keep in a pill organizer. Right now I am taking a daily multi-vitamin, two fish oil capsules with Omega-3 fatty acids, 400 mg of magnesium, a 5,000 iu capsule of Vitamin D, and a prescription anti-inflammatory called Voltarin. And, guys, that’s a reduction. I take a similar combination in the evening — and it’s not going down without that glass of water.
We all know we are supposed to drink water, right. Google told me this morning that 50-65% of the human body is water. In order to be healthy, we have to recirculate that water regularly. Water cleanses our systems, washes away impurities, and generally makes us feel better. In fact, it can reduce headaches, improve your appearance, and give you energy. We have a joke in our house that no matter what your ailment is, it can be cured with a glass of water. Got a stomach ache? Drink a glass of water. Feel crabby? Drink a glass of water. Can’t sleep? Here’s a glass of water.
Next in the parade is a smoothie. Last Mother’s Day, my kids got together and gave me an individual blender that whips up a smoothie in just a couple of seconds. Since then, more days than not, I have started my day with a blend of fruits, vegetables, seeds, nuts, and a variety of other ingredients. While I was on the Ultrasimple Diet (Mark Hyman, MD) I purchased a prescription shake mix called UltraInflamX — it’s a rice-based formula chock full of nutrients and antioxidants designed to provide nourishment and reduce inflammation. It’s expensive, but seemed to be effective in starting off my day and helping me feel well. For the last week, since I ran out of the expensive stuff, I consulted Mark Hyman’s book, The UltraSimple Diet, and found three recipes for the same type of shake that I can make at home for much less money. The recipe I am using at the moment is 1/2 cup almond milk, one banana, 1 T. cashew butter, 1 T. flaxseed oil, and 2 T. ground flax seeds. It’s pretty tasty, and, according to Dr. Hyman, provides essential protein, omega-3 fatty acids, fiber, and anti-oxidants.
Following the smoothie in the parade of beverages is a concoction that also grew out of the UltraSimple diet. It started as hot water with the juice of half a lemon. Then someone sent me a link singing the praises of cinnamon and honey, so I threw 1 t. of cinnamon and about 2 t. of honey in with the lemon water. That is incredibly yummy by the way. Cinnamon and honey have been said to reduce the pain of arthritis, to improve gastrointestinal health, lower cholesteral, strengthen the immune system, etc. And it tastes good! So, down the hatch it goes.
A little over a week ago when my doctor called to tell me that my cortisol was low, she prescribed an herbal supplement that should improve my cortisol levels in just a matter of weeks. I should take 1/2 t. of Licorice (not the candy form) and 1/2 t. of Eleuthero (Siberian ginseng) in water or ‘juice’ 2-3 times a day. Sounds simple. Tastes horrible. So, in the morning, I try to drown these herbs in the cinnamon, lemon, honey goodness, and it almost works.
Finally, my reward for drinking the other three beverages is a cup of green tea. Can you believe I am calling that my reward after all the whining I did about ‘having’ to drink green tea on the UltraSimple diet? Well, have I mentioned lately what a wonderful husband I have? For Christmas he found me a loose green tea blend that is fruity and delicious! So, the grand finale in my parade of beverages is a lovely cuppa fruity green tea. Now, you might think by now that I am following some crazy schemes to improve my health. You may be skeptical, but even medical doctors have cited the research that shows the benefits of the catechin in green tea to do everything from lowering cholesterol to improving brain function to stabilizing blood sugar. Drink up, kids.
So what do I do after the parade? What does anyone do after a parade? They exercise, of course. So, I am off to the gym for come cardio, some strength, and then some relaxation in a warm salt water pool.
I do believe all this work is paying off. I am feeling better, not perfect, but better.
Proverbs 3:5-8
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.
Do not be wise in your own eyes, fear the Lord and shun evil.
This will bring health to your body and nourishment to your bones.
I got it all wrong. And I was just trying to get it all right!
I think this goes back to my early days of school. I was a very strong student. I loved to learn and I was pretty good at it. Outside of cutting with scissors and penmanship, I scored pretty much straight As all the way through elementary and middle school. I knew what I was doing and I was usually right. This continued on through most of high school until I hit a wall somewhere in my junior or senior year; I just didn’t care any more. Well, actually, I cared, but less about school and more about having a job and making money.
I knew that I would have to come up with most of the money I needed for college so I started working at age 15. I started at a small dress shop on the main street in my home town, then moved over to McDonald’s in the neighboring town, and eventually added a second job at a day care center run by the public school system.
I was making money, putting a little in the bank, and spending the rest on clothes, shoes, food, movies, and all the other things that high school students spend their money on. Meanwhile, I was pretty good at faking it at school and still bringing home mostly As with an occasional B. Good enough. I knew what I was doing.
But not really. I have told this story over and over to my high school students, at least this next part. In trying to earn enough money to pay for college (and not really saving enough to make a substantial difference) I lost my focus at school. I was still in National Honor Society; I didn’t really want to be valedictorian or salutatorian anyway. Though apathetic, I finished in the top 11% of my class. Why do I know I was in the top 11%? Because my college financial aid office had a large scholarship — almost full tuition — for the student who finished in the top 10% of her class. Yeah, I was the top 11%. I missed a huge scholarship because I was trying (poorly) to take care of it myself.
Why do I bring this up today? I’m 48 years old and long past high school and college. (I’m also long past paying the student loans I took out to pay that tuition.) I bring it up because I was thinking this morning that this is my life pattern. I see the situation, formulate my own solution, assume I’m right, and find out years later that I got it all wrong.
Let me give you another example. While I was independently figuring out my finances in high school, I noticed that I didn’t have the petite little figure of many of my classmates, so I decided to join Weight Watchers. I would lose weight and become more like them. As a matter of fact, weight loss consumed many years of my life. Diet after diet turned into anorexia nervosa and doggone it, I became petite like my high school friends. Yeah, I lost weight, I just couldn’t drive a car without getting in an accident or maintain any relationships outside the dedicated few who hung with me through thick and thin. (Not too punny, I know.) It took a long journey to realize I’d gotten it all wrong. Trying to be like everyone else wasn’t the answer; learning to accept myself was the answer.
The ‘got it all wrong’ topic for today? Parenting. I welcomed those little babies into my arms and into my heart with the intention of doing everything right. I read books, I took classes, I built schedules, I had structure. I was going to get this right. And, you know, I did a lot of things right, by the grace of God. But I got some things wrong, too. Now that my kids are all 19 and older, I am starting to reflect and notice the good, the bad, and the ugly. The things I did right and the things I did so very wrong.
But that is not the lesson for today. Nope. My lesson for today is that life is good, bad, and sometimes ugly. Making the decision to work in high school didn’t ruin my life. In fact, I learned a lot of life skills working at McDonald’s. Balancing two jobs helped me figure out how to schedule my time and how easy it is to use and misuse money. Losing out on that scholarship showed me that there is more than one way to pay for college. Having an eating disorder did not damage me; it shaped me. My parenting ‘mistakes’ didn’t ruin my children, but it did allow them to see my imperfections and to recognize (hopefully) that they don’t need to be perfect either.
So am I embracing my imperfections? I might as well! One thing I have learned, that I know I am right about, is that I am not perfect. I do stupid stuff. And, yet, miraculously I have a college education, a fairly healthy self-image (finally!), four wonderful children, a daughter-in-law, and a granddaughter (!!!). Even though I got it all wrong.
Lamentations 3:22-23
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his mercies never fail.
They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
One hundred forty. That is the number of items that stand between me and my completion of the Minimalist Challenge. I have already removed 325 (more or less) items from our little house by the river! I am thankful that my daughters were home for the holidays and helped me scrape together some of those piles and bags of stuff, but I think the last 140 are on me. Deep breath.
I think I can, I think I can.
So what have I given away? Lots of books (although we sold and gave away dozens of books before our move to Michigan), clothing (so many T-shirts!), Christmas items (do I really need poinsettia placemats?), shoes (those taupe pumps made me look even more middle-aged than I am), a yoga mat, a fold-up laundry hamper (college-dorm style), an old crock pot, an enormous electric roaster that I have used twice, cloth bags by the dozen, several pillows and blankets, and many, many other obscure items.
Is my house empty? Not even close. As a matter of fact, the area that started this whole business — my desk– hasn’t changed too noticeably. (I did dust it once, by the way.) It’s shelves are still full of my husband’s theological and counseling texts and several framed photos of our kids. The desktop itself is still cluttered with my ‘to-do’ items — Bible study materials, bills, mailing supplies, and the like. One of those organizational specialists would probably come in here with some coordinating accessories and make it look like there was nothing here at all, but, you know, I’m ok with its current state. I do use most of this stuff at least weekly.
And that is how most of the house is — trimmed down to the things I use at least weekly. So where am I going to get one hundred forty more items? I have a few ideas, almost all of them are going to involve standing on chairs or getting on hands and knees. I’m going to go into the hard-to-reach cupboard over the fridge and the tall cabinets in the laundry room. I’m going to look in the back of that awkward cupboard in the kitchen. Then, I am going to assess the utensil drawers — there’s gotta be some stuff in there that is just gathering dust. Oh, and the ‘Tupperware’ drawer — gotta throw away extraneous lids again. If all else fails, I can go back to my sock drawer, and that reminds me — the basket of mismatched socks! I probably have at least 20 singletons that can be finally released from their wandering misery!
And what will all this trimming do for me? Well, I am entering 2015 feeling quite organized, that’s one thing. But probably more importantly is the shift that has occurred in my mind. I have always been willing to give stuff away — that’s been rather useful in two inter-state moves. Yet shift has still happened, probably on a deeper level. I was in a thrift store yesterday (after dropping off 115 items!). I was looking specifically for knitting needles and yarn. The particular store I was in organizes craft items so well that there is actually a drawer labelled ‘yarn’ and a drawer labelled ‘knitting needles’. No kidding. I have been in the store enough times that I walked straight to those two drawers and found what I was looking for. And here comes the shift….in my usual fashion I took a walk around the rest of the store just to see if there was anything else interesting. And there was! Books, and puzzles, and unopened rolls of Christmas wrapping paper for less than a dollar! Everything with a white tag was 50% off! But I didn’t pick up one thing. My mind kept saying, “I don’t need that.”
And I don’t. I don’t need anything. I have clothing, shoes, a family, a beautiful doggy, and a very small (and organized) house by the river. I have (apparently) 140 things in this house that I don’t need and I am going to find them in the next five days. The next part of the challenge, which my thrift shop experience tells me won’t really be much of a challenge, is not to replace the over 400 items that have been liberated from my household. The next part of the challenge is to embrace living simply.
Sounds simple.
Matthew 6:19-20
Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth,
where moths and vermin destroy and thieves break in and steal.
But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven,
where moths and vermin do not destroy and where thieves do not break in and steal.
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