Less of Me

Some days I long for bedtime like I haven't slept in weeks.  Days like today.  Today, when I cleaned up dog poop, kid poop, gave baths, and all the other daily mom-stuff and was then too pooped to sit down and eat with my family.  Too tired to eat.  That may be a first.  Nobody tells you how hard you will work as a mom.  Or maybe they do, and we are just too starry-eyed and day-dreamy to hear it.

The house is finally quiet now for the first time since early morning, and when the house gets quiet, my mind gets loud.  I have been drowning out this internal noise by reading.  Which was working just fine until I started reading "Interrupted" by Jen Hatmaker.  Not the best choice for quieting one's mind. Great choice if you want your whole world view and value system completely undone.  But I'll write more on that sometime when I am not soooooo tired.

I also started memorizing the Sermon on the Mount.  Yes. The whole thing.  That is three whole chapters (5, 6, and 7) of Matthew.  (If you are interested in joining me, you can find the plan here.)  Now, before you start to be impressed with my lofty goal, you should know that I am only on verse 3 of chapter 5.  So far, so good. But I got to verse 3, which says "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven" and I realized I had no clue what that meant.  I mean, if I am going to memorize scripture, shouldn't I understand what it is I am memorizing, at least a little?  I grew up in church, so this is a very familiar passage, but I had never really "unpacked" it to see what Jesus meant.  Since I am no Greek scholar, I did what most any non-seminary, non-scholarly person would do.  I Googled it. Google led me to a sermon by John Piper where he broke it down like this:

What Then Is Poverty of Spirit?

• It is a sense of powerlessness in ourselves.
• It is a sense of spiritual bankruptcy and helplessness before God.
• It is a sense of moral uncleanness before God.
• It is a sense of personal unworthiness before God.
• It is a sense that if there is to be any life or joy or usefulness, it will have to be all of God and all of grace.

Ahhh, the "H" word again.  Humility.  We always wind up here.  But this time, it is a different kind of humility... I have struggled and battled, lost and won, and lost some more in the area of humility... at least in regard to my relationships with people... But this is not the same. This is humility before God.  Recognizing that I have nothing of value to bring to the table except for total dependence on Him.  No gifts, no power, no wisdom... Nothing at all that I can boast in.  Seeing that He doesn't "need" me or anyone else to do His kingdom work.  That He isn't "lucky" to have me on His team (I laugh even as I type those words).  The words that are just stuck in my head are these: "If there is to be any life or joy or usefulness, it will have to be all of God and all of grace."  And that is helping to put my restless mind at ease.  If it is all Him, and not me, then I can't mess it up.  

Less of me, more of Him.  My only goal for 2013.  (Well, the only important one.  I wouldn't be a woman if I weren't trying to lose 10 lbs, you know. That would still fall under the "less of me" category.)

Happy New Year, my friends.  You are loved.

A Simple Plan for a Simple Christmas

I have such a dysfunctional relationship with this season.  I mean, I really love the holidays... The decorating, the music, the memories we make each year... But I really do not like the "busy".  For most of this year I have been working hard to simplify my life.  You know, prioritize.  Some things have been easy to let go of, others harder to walk away from.  BUT, I've done it, and I've really grown accustomed to the slower pace.  And then December.  If you were to look at the calendar on my fridge, you would not think "simple".  You would, however, understand my anxiety-driven urge to shut down and hide for the next 30 days. Or 31.

Hiding isn't an option.  And truly, I want to go to the band concerts, the parties, the programs, the services, the dinners and other festivities.  And I don't even mind the shopping.  I just wish it weren't all crammed into the next three weeks!  I get tired just thinking about it all.

If less is truly more, then I have to find a way to simplify this busy season, right?  A way to cut out some unnecessary stuff, some "fluff"... So here's my plan:

1. Embrace the "white space".  Those few remaining empty boxes on my December calendar will be protected and enjoyed with some easy, relaxing family time.

2.  Let go of the "perfect Christmas".  We all do it.  You know, we want the perfect pictures with the perfect matchy pj's and the perfect decorating and the perfect menu.  Not this year.  We'll just call it a "Candid Christmas".  The real us, in our real un-matching pajamas, and normal recipes that don't have 25 ingredients.

(on a side note, here is a picture of my "simple" wreath... Those of you who know me know that I am NOT crafty, so I was pretty proud of myself for even attempting this.)

3.  Don't budge on the budget.  We have spent the same amount per kid for the last several years.  I was soooo tempted to increase that amount this year, since my hubby has worked super hard to provide well for our family.  But I know that if we stick to what we have always done, it will leave us more room to give to those who are truly in need.  Our kids' character will not be improved one bit by getting an extra gift.  I'd much rather teach them to give one away.

4.  Keep Thanksgiving going-  right through Christmas, and every day after that! We have enough. We are abundantly blessed.  I want to spend everyday being grateful for what I already have.  It is a choice to be grateful, it is not a feeling.  I sometimes need to be reminded of that. (Especially when I see the sale prices at some of my favorite stores...."I have enough" will be my mantra!)

5.  Focus on Jesus.  I guess it may sound almost cliched... "The Reason for the Season" and all that.... But really, if we are more focused on how many presents we place under our tree, or how many lights we put on our house, or whether we have the right thing to wear to all the parties, or even how busy our calendar looks... Aren't we missing the whole point?  Ouch. This one hurts me to type because here it is, staring me in the face.  I get so distracted by insignificant things.  There is only One thing.  And when we focus on Him, everything else tends to fall right in its proper place.

Since this is one of those "brainstorming" kind of posts, I'd really love to hear how YOU keep Christmas from becoming something it was never meant to be... I think we all have to make a conscious effort not to be swept away with the culture on this one.

Simple is our goal.  This is the hardest time of year to be simple.  We can do it! Who's with me??

Much love, til I'm up late enough to blog once more,

~Kari

Obsessing, Blessing, and a Little Insanity

Hello blog-world.  I have missed you!  Life gets a little nuts, I get a little nuts, and I sometimes want to disappear for a little while.  This holiday season has kicked off with a bang, beginning with a trip to see my husband's family in Mississippi.  It really did feel like I was disappearing... There is not a whole lot to look at in the Mississippi Delta.  Well, except for fields.  Lots and lots of fields.

I like all kinds of people.  Really, I genuinely appreciate almost any personality type, even if it is very different from my own. The challenge is learning to appreciate them all at the same time, like when you go to your in-laws for Thanksgiving and there are about 40 people there, most of whom you have never met.  In these situations, I tend to get a little self conscious, and then I either put on the sugary-sweet-beauty-walk smile and do my best to present myself as adorable, or I don't say a whole lot and find stuff to do to keep busy.  I wasn't feeling too terribly adorable this past weekend, so I kept to myself a little more than I probably should have.

Some people have told me I am a natural with people, and I believe they are assuming that means I am comfortable in a crowd, when in fact, quite the opposite is true.  While I do consider myself a "people-person", I am not comfortable in a crowd at all.  I'm always worried I might come across the wrong way, or say something stupid, or just say the wrong thing... So I will typically find a quiet place and a book to drown out the nagging fear that I have somehow blown any chances of being really liked or accepted.  (I always take a book to family get-togethers.  My planned escape route, if necessary.)  Or I find someone that I am comfortable with and hover close to them so I don't look as out-of-place as I feel.

Getting ready for the trip, I was worrying (more like obsessing) over all the things that could go wrong and mentally preparing myself for every worst-case scenario.  Don't get me wrong... I absolutely love my in-laws. At least the ones I already know.  They are affectionate, generous and fun.  But you see, there were a lot of "unknowns" this trip.  First of all, we were staying in their brand new home.  And I worried about things like kitchen utensils, bath towels, and whether the twins would sleep.  Then there was the fact that the whole extended family was joining us on Thursday, and I worried about things like what I should wear to blend in with the crowd (which I found amusing later, since we saw a little bit of every style you could possibly imagine), what I should talk about, or whether I made enough mac and cheese and chocolate cake.  (The answer to that last part, by the way, is NO.)  I could keep going with this list of worries, but you probably already get a picture of my insanity, here.

On Wednesday morning, getting ready to leave, I read 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18- "Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." followed by a friend's Facebook comment, "Be blessed today, but most importantly, be a blessing." Ouch.  I was not gonna bless anybody with my neurotic attitude.  And I knew it.  So I started thanking God for the blessing of getting to travel to see our family.  And for our abundance of food and supplies.  And for a lovely home to spend the weekend in, and so on and so forth.  Counting blessings is a miraculous cure for crazy.  Try it.  I then started praying that God would help me to be a blessing to those around me.  Now, I have no way of knowing if I was or if I wasn't, but the mantra in my head "Be a blessing... Be a blessing... Be a blessing...." carried me through the weekend without a single meltdown.  So I guess that was at least a blessing to me! And to my dear husband.  Bless him.

We enjoyed our time in Mississippi (especially the outlet shopping in Tunica) and were a little sad to leave everyone behind.  But we brought our thankfulness home with us, and I am doing my best to maintain that same goal of being a blessing as we race through the rest of the holiday season.  I know it won't be easy all the time.  But nothing good is ever easy, right?

So, Happy Thanksgiving, and may you each be blessed AND be a blessing to those around you.  It is, after all, why God blesses us in the first place.

Imperfect Progress

I am a door-slammer.  Big doors, small doors, car doors, cabinet doors (a personal favorite).  It is my favorite way to say "Back. Off." or "I'm MAD" without actually having to say it.  Very little room for misinterpretation.

I just returned home from Kroger where I bumped into a dear friend who asked me how I managed to be there alone.  I said that I just kind of ran screaming from the house.  I think maybe she thought I was joking. I wasn't.

Retracing the events of the day to see where I began coming unglued, my thoughts zeroed in on the first door slam.  It happened after my son's baseball game, where I had done my very best to maintain control of two very busy preschoolers, which is about the equivalent of trying to contain two squirrels.  A little stressful.  I walked into the house to find my husband and 2 boys laying around, watching tv, and relaxing.  Which was not a problem until I walked into the kitchen to find the mess they had left, presumably for me to clean up. Empty juice bottles, pan on the stove, dishes on the counter and sink, and then (gasp) trash on the floor???  I held up the piece of trash to my husband like he had somehow desecrated a holy temple by allowing this to happen.  I proceed to rinse out the empty juice bottle, march to the door to take it to the recycling bin, and that's when it happened.  SLAM.  I wish I could say that I stopped, took my thoughts captive, and allowed the peace of God to rule in my heart and home.  I did not.

I made the twins a snack, and began washing the dishes and wiping the counter tops when I heard the splash of juice hit the floor. It was V8 Splash, to be specific.  A very aptly named beverage.  And this was the kind of spill that defies gravity and goes up the wall as well as all over the floor.   As I am getting towels out of the cabinet to clean up the sticky mess, another kid shoves a pair of athletic shorts at me and says "Can you wash these tonight?"  Friends, it is 8:30pm. Those are dangerous words to say to a mama at 8:30pm.  And so it happens again.  SLAM #2. Timing can mean the difference between life and death, people. Seriously.

Juice is cleaned up, with a little help from the dog, and I go back to the dishes.  Glad, really, to have something to do with all the negative energy.  But I can feel the pressure and heat rising.  And I know I am about to blow.  So, I decide that now is the perfect time to go Krogering.  And I might have made it out the door without slamming it if my dear husband had not chosen that moment to call me out.  Again, TIMING.  Never mind that he may have been totally right.  I was over-reacting.  We both knew it.  But that is WHY I needed to get out of here.  To calm down, gain some perspective, and really take my thoughts captive.  It is hard to think straight with so many demands being thrown at you at the speed of light.  But, that is life for moms.  It is messy and relentless.

So now I am back at home, calm(er) now that kids are tucked in bed and the kitchen is somewhat clean.  But still there is the regret... I might not have done any screaming out loud, but all those slamming doors can be pretty noisy.

In her book, Unglued, Lysa TerKeurst says that "Imperfect changes are slow steps of progress wrapped in grace... imperfect progress."  And the only way to make progress at all is to retrain myself to think differently... to take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ (2 Cor. 10:5).

I actually won a bracelet at a women's event last weekend that is engraved with the words "true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy."  (Coincidence?  I think not.)  And I am discovering that it's not enough to just try to not dwell on things that do not meet these qualifications.... I must think on things that do measure up to this standard.  Lysa says it this way, "We won't develop new responses until we develop new thoughts.  That's why renewing our minds with new thoughts is crucial.  New thoughts come from new perspectives."  I need a new perspective.  How about you?

Progress, not perfection.  I have said it to myself so many times.  I don't have to get it right every time.  You don't have to get it right every time.  But we can train our minds to respond and not react.  We can allow Christ to transform our thinking.  It is a process, not a one-time fix.

I'm gonna watch out for that urge to slam doors.  That is an "unglued" indicator, for sure!  I'm sure I have others, but I like to start out nice and slow.  Imperfect progress, remember?

I'd love it if you would share your "unglued indicators" with me! Leave a comment here, or on facebook and we can encourage one another. Good night, girlfriends. You are loved.

Meltdown Mama

"Do what you can do, and God will do what we can't do." I read this Joyce Meyer quote on Facebook this morning.  (Yes, I do my own reading, but sometimes I just copy and paste someone else's. Don't hate.)  And it was kind of neat because I was already on the verge of a meltdown this morning, even AFTER spending some time studying real joy and where it comes from.  The reason for my anxiety?  A packed schedule for this weekend, a house full of kids with various activities to go to, and every room has at least a half inch of dust collecting on the surfaces.  Not to mention, a three-yr-old on a prescription laxative, another who is having nosebleeds every half hour, and a teenager who neglected to tell me he would be staying at a friend's house last night, nearly causing me a heart attack when I awoke to find him gone. Sometimes I look around and think to myself  "This is too much for anybody."

The word "meltdown" takes on a whole new meaning after age 35, ladies.  The minute a situation starts to get a little bit stressful, I feel the heatwave rising up and all of a sudden, I am sweating as if I were in gym class.  (Not that I ever did much sweating in gym class, mind you.  I somehow managed to avoid anything that might cause me to do anything more than glisten.)  So meltdowns are actually just as literal as they are figurative for me these days.  Melting makeup, melting mascara, melting hairdo.  You get the picture.  My vanity rages against this post, I should probably admit.  It is like hanging out a sign over my head that says "Old lady.  Right here." with arrows pointing down at my melting face.

While being a "hot-flash mama" (in the words of a friend) is bad enough in itself, it is nothing compared to the herculean task of trying to muster up enough self-control to not explode in those moments.  I mean spew like a volcano.  All over this precious family who probably wonders where the heck their mommy/wife/stepmom is and who is this crazy alien being who has taken over.  In fact, I have proof they are wondering.  This is a conversation from the van (where all the best conversations happen) yesterday afternoon:

Going to get the big kids from school, I was singing to Gracie, "I love Gracie, yes I do" when she stopped me and said "No. But you like me a little bit." Ouch.  Then Hudson chimed in and said "I love the real you, Mommy.  But I like you too." What??  The"Real Me"??  Then who the heck is driving this van? I tried not to let it bother me too much, but it kind of lingered in the back of my mind all day.

Truth is, I don't like me some days either.  And I wonder where the "Real Me" has gone to and whether she plans to return. And that is depressing enough to make me forget a few things. Things like the fact that I have  a really blessed life.  A husband who loves me even when I'm not so lovable, kids who are quick to give me grace... I went to bed early last night because I was sick of myself.  I fell asleep with the light on and my book on the bed.  Lexi came in to say good night, she put my book away, kissed my cheek and turned off the light.  I don't want to forget that sweet moment, or trample on it by exploding on her today.  So I pray.  And I pray.  And I pray some more.  And I often don't feel that it does any good in the moment.  But I know it is changing me.  Teaching me to be a little less independent, a little more dependent on His Spirit at work in me, Christ in me, the hope of glory...

I have high hopes for the hormone balancing meds I start this week. But, if they fail, and I have to live with myself just like this, I pray that God will use even this to make me a little more mature, a little more complete in Him.  What a comfort to know He can redeem anything.  Let me say that again in case you missed it.  He can redeem anything.  The hard things that happen to us, the painful consequences of our own choices, and even the mutiny of our own bodies against us.  I believe that. More than believe, I know firsthand.  This is just another opportunity to find Him at work, if I will seek Him with my whole heart.

Can I just say, for the sake of whining to you gals, that getting older really stinks?? My friend BobiAnn says that if we say it once, it isn't complaining, it is simply stating a fact.  If we keep on saying it then we are complaining.  So I guess this post is my one chance to state the fact without being guilty of complaining and grumbling.  That is NOT in any way a promise that I won't bring it up again.

Stay cool, all my "meltdown mamas". You are loved. :)

Dirty Dishes

My mom came to pick up a few of my kids for the day yesterday.  I am still not sure if she was rescuing me from them or rescuing them from me... Anyway, she stayed to visit for a little bit and as she sat at my kitchen table, with the coloring pages, books, sticky smudges and a cereal bowl or two, I felt compelled to say "Sorry the kitchen is such a mess."  Like I was gonna get grounded or something, I guess.  She just laughed and said it didn't bother her in the least.  (She never really minded having a messy kitchen when we were little, either.)  But I still felt the need to explain that I had run the dish washer twice the day before, and what was in the sink was just what wouldn't fit in the last load.  Because, really, I just couldn't face the thought of washing a few by hand?  Seriously.

It has occurred to me on more than one occasion, that if I had worked this hard when I only had 3 kids at home, I would have had an immaculate house.  But I didn't.  And I have come to the conclusion that there is just a level of "messy" that we are all comfortable with, and we will work as hard as we have to in order to maintain that level of messy.  We live with and tolerate what we are comfortable with.  And then feel the need to apologize or rationalize when we fear it might not measure up to someone else's comfort level or expectations.  Interesting.

This isn't really a post about dirty dishes and tables... I am just wondering this morning how to go about raising my own standards... You know, what I am comfortable with.  Because frankly, there are a few things in my life that are cluttering it up, and I have become very comfortable with the mess.  At first I might have known something was out of place, but I have walked by it so many times that I barely notice it anymore.  I want to find a way to be comfortable with being uncomfortable because I know from experience that nothing will change as long as I am feeling comfortable and ok with things the way they are.  Isn't that true for most everyone? We don't really work on positive change until we feel the negative effects of something unhealthy... I'd rather not wait until the clutter is out of control and taking over my life to do something about it.  (Still not talking about dishes, here...)

I have, in the past, made a whole bunch of rules for myself... Which is really pretty funny, since I'd be the first person to tell you that I don't like rules... But I do like lists.  So I list all the things I will or won't do anymore, and then almost immediately I am breaking my own rules.  (Not talking about big stuff here, just daily stuff.)   Like, "I will never-ever-no-never go to bed with dishes in the sink." And that's a great rule.  But then the night comes when it is 10pm, and I am just getting all the kids in bed and finally have a quiet moment to myself, and I think there is no way I'm spending those first quiet moments I've had all day doing the dishes.  No. Way.  So I break the rule, because I can. Right? I'm the mom, I can do whatever I want. I'm thinking maybe a list of things-I-need-to-rid-my-life-of would probably have about the same effect.  So I need a different approach.

The cool thing about my walk with God has been, that when He wants me to let go of something, or add something, or change something, He just works on that one area until I am on board with Him.  No pressure... He sticks with me as long as it takes to get the job done, and then we move on to something else.   So I figure this whole restlessness and discomfort I am feeling is just the beginning of Him showing me something... A way to do something differently maybe... A way to do something better.  Or maybe even something new altogether He wants me to do.  Or something He wants me not to do anymore...I don't know yet.  And that's ok.  As I was trying to articulate this to my mom (after half a pot of coffee)  She simply said "Kari, you just need to rest.  And wait."  I think she probably knows a thing or two about that.  (She probably also wanted me to take a breath and let her catch up to my caffeine-induced overflow of words.)

So I am resting.  And waiting.  And ok with being uncomfortable for a change.

Thank-You Notes

My oldest son, Chandler, sat at the kitchen table yesterday writing "thank-you notes" on postcards he bought in Ireland.  So many family members and friends contributed to sending him on that once in a lifetime trip.  I was laughing at him because he kept writing his message in the place where he was supposed to put the address.  And  while I was laughing at his mistake, I realized that there were some "thank-you's" of my own I needed to write.

"You are so funny."  I hear this a lot.  I have tried and tried to get people to understand that if I have a funny thought it is because I was initially really irritated, or even angry about something.  Apparently I don't like to feel irritated or angry, so my brain uses humor to cope.  It seems ironic to me that humor is usually born out of some kind of darker moment of my day.  The moment when all I really want to do is scream, that moment turns into a story that is cracking everyone up. Including me, once I put it in writing.  The truth is, very few of my funny stories seem funny when they are happening... Only in the telling do I see the humor in it.

So really, when you sweet friends get a chuckle out of my misfortunes, mistakes, and frustrations, you help me to get outside of myself to see the humor in it too, which just makes me feel better.  So I write about what seems like nothing, you laugh about it and encourage me, and I have a little better perspective to deal with daily life.

All I really want to say this morning is thank you.  For being friends who care enough to read about my very ordinary life, and for always being such an encouragement to this weary mama. It is really you, not the writing, that make this little blog worthwhile.  To know I am not alone. Consider this post a great big bloggy hug from me to each of you. :)