I think parenthood, and perhaps motherhood in particular, will make an introvert of anyone.
I'm really not sure where I fall on the introvert-extrovert continuum. I'm not so introverted as my husband, who might not realize he was stranded alone on a desert island if he had a stack of books. Neither am I as extroverted as my daughter, whose ability to work a room is rivaled only by politicians and con-men.
What I do know is at the end of the day, I am worn out by the constant grasping of my little ones. I am exhausted by what one of my favorite writers, Tony Woodlief, has called "the imposing physicality of a child."
Don't get me wrong: I love a good snuggle. I love the gentle weight of a wee babe sleeping on my chest. I love when I get my children up from their naps and hug me tightly about the neck. I even love when one of them climbs into bed with me in the middle of the night. But me versus all four of them all day sometimes feels like a blitz without an offensive line.
A typical day finds them tackling, grasping, and demanding. Even the relative peace of story time quickly descends into a wrestling match as they each clamber for their own spot in my lap. My days are wrought with physicality and need.
It's exhausting to be needed. It drives me into myself. I retreat when I should engage. I get selfish with my time, and impatient with their neediness. I feel overwhelmed and anxious.
Scripture tells me that Jesus understands my fleshly struggles. Hebrews 4:15-16 assures me that "we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need." So Jesus gets it. He's been here.
Still I'm tempted to ask: what does Jesus know of being a mother?
But the more I think on it, the more I see that he knows what it is to be imposed upon. Looking at his ministry, I can understand why he needed to get away to pray. Remember the woman who reached out to touch the hem of his garment? The men that cut a hole in the roof to get their paralyzed friend to Jesus? The crowds that pushed in on him, demanding healing and food? He knows what it is to pour himself out, even unto death.
Still, Jesus had compassion on the people. They were like sheep without a shepherd. He didn't respond sinfully. He didn't get annoyed or anxious. He loved them. So I should do that, right?
To be sure, I should try to be a more patient and less anxious. I should love my kids sacrificially. But it struck me the other day: this verse doesn't say he's my example. He is, but it doesn't say that. It says he's my priest. A priest makes atonement for the people so they can come into God's presence. Because he was tempted in every way I am, yet was without sin, I can come to him and find mercy. His obedience when faced with temptation and his sacrifice on the cross bought me access to the throne of grace. It covers my impatience, my passiveness, my anxiousness. And it gives me confidence to ask for help. He promises meet me in my struggles to love my kids well and empower my obedience. He has walked among us needy souls. He knows.
Really, when it comes down to it, I am just a needy child lifting my
arms to my Savior. He doesn't rebuke my neediness, but instead invites
it. I can come, confident I will receive mercy for my failures and help
when I ask. This is the gospel for the nitty gritty everyday.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
He is My Enough
Today, the graham cracker crumbs have won. There are Legos scattered
around the kitchen, tiny land mines waiting for unsuspecting feet. A
load of laundry sits in the dryer for the third day, waiting to be
folded and put away. The kids are happily sorting crayons into muffin
tins by color, and I am feeling overwhelmed.
I expect things to be going better. I think that's my problem. I would like to get up early, have my quiet time, take a shower, do some housework. I would like to have a routine for the kids and myself that has us learning and crafting and not wearing pjs at noon. I would like to eat lunch.
Instead, I'm exhausted. I sleep like a vagrant--in the bed of a teething toddler, in the guest room with the baby, in my own bed, whispering soothing dreams and prayers over a frightened child. In the morning, I wake to sweet footsteps headed for my bed. I stumble through the day, feed them when they're hungry, read them stories, try to show them how very much I love them. I try not to lose my patience with their questions and demands. And every day I am reminded that my efforts will never be enough.
This is motherhood. It's different than I expected. It is beautiful and joyful and very, very hard. I'm a finite and sinful mom struggling with a task that's too big for me. I am not enough. I was never meant to be. But I know the One who is, and He fills in my not enough and makes it overflow. It brings him glory to do so.
I need to be reminded to rest in grace, and my kids need to grow up knowing that I'm not the one who holds it all together. Looking back, I want them to know that I loved Jesus and I loved them and that I offered up the broken pieces of my efforts and my life to the One who made it enough. So perhaps it is better for me to be confronted with my inadequacy each day. Perhaps it's better that I spend my days battling graham cracker crumbs and never-ending piles of laundry and my own selfish heart. It is better that I know that He is my enough.
I expect things to be going better. I think that's my problem. I would like to get up early, have my quiet time, take a shower, do some housework. I would like to have a routine for the kids and myself that has us learning and crafting and not wearing pjs at noon. I would like to eat lunch.
Instead, I'm exhausted. I sleep like a vagrant--in the bed of a teething toddler, in the guest room with the baby, in my own bed, whispering soothing dreams and prayers over a frightened child. In the morning, I wake to sweet footsteps headed for my bed. I stumble through the day, feed them when they're hungry, read them stories, try to show them how very much I love them. I try not to lose my patience with their questions and demands. And every day I am reminded that my efforts will never be enough.
This is motherhood. It's different than I expected. It is beautiful and joyful and very, very hard. I'm a finite and sinful mom struggling with a task that's too big for me. I am not enough. I was never meant to be. But I know the One who is, and He fills in my not enough and makes it overflow. It brings him glory to do so.
I need to be reminded to rest in grace, and my kids need to grow up knowing that I'm not the one who holds it all together. Looking back, I want them to know that I loved Jesus and I loved them and that I offered up the broken pieces of my efforts and my life to the One who made it enough. So perhaps it is better for me to be confronted with my inadequacy each day. Perhaps it's better that I spend my days battling graham cracker crumbs and never-ending piles of laundry and my own selfish heart. It is better that I know that He is my enough.
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Thoughts on Homeschooling
I want to begin this by saying that I do not think that homeschooling is
the only valid option when it comes to educating children. So many throw stones about this kind of thing; I don't want to be among them. If I'm honest, homeschooling would
probably not have been my ideal. I would have loved to put Ava in a
nurturing, challenging private school where the gospel was before her
every day, because she would love it and it would be easier. But our
budget can't support that (especially when all four kids are in
school), so homeschooling seemed to be the right fit for our family.
Even though homeschooling was an unexpected destination for me, I really love it. I am a trained educator who taught in a public school, so I have some opinions about how things should be done, and some social and academic scenarios I'd rather not see played out in my kids' lives. Homeschooling gives me the opportunity to make their education what I think it should be.
We've been at this for a few months, so I thought it a good time to reflect on why we're doing this, what's hard, and how I see my children learning and growing. Also, since homeschooling is still a bit of a cultural oddity, people express a fair amount of curiosity about it. How is it going? How do you do it with three other kids? What do you do all day? Are you weird?
So here are some of my thoughts after a semester or so of homeschooling:
The why: When Daniel and I were discussing school options, we asked ourselves what would be best for our kids first spiritually and next academically. I will say that it has never been our goal as parents to control the externals so that we can produce "good kids" that won't get themselves into trouble. It is our goal to point them toward repentance and an inward heart change that results in outward change. This is tricky, because inward heart change is the work of the Holy Spirit, but we certainly have a role to play as parents. God gave us the primary responsibility of raising our kids, and at the very least if we entrusted some of that task to someone else we wanted to trust that we would be supported in our work as parents. In these years, our children are so vulnerable and impressionable, and we want to be the primary influence in their lives. And while they have some measure of faith, we personally felt that we wanted to be more confident that Jesus had their hearts before we considered public school. We did not want to send them into a battle for which they are unprepared. They will, of course, have more exposure to the world as they grow and mature, but we want to help equip them for that by showing them how to love and engage people who don't know Jesus in the safety of our own home. Given all this, public school didn't seem like a good option for us at this time. And since private school is out of reach for us financially, homeschooling was the logical choice.
Academically, we had some very general goals for them. We want them to stay creative, imaginative, and curious. We want them to be able to solve problems and communicate well. And we want them to love to to learn. These are stated goals almost everywhere. I'm not sure anyone really knows how to go about achieving them. Do I think I'm going to do it perfectly? By no means. Do I think I'm probably better suited to it than my local public school? Absolutely.
How: An article I read about the first year of homeschooling advised: let this be the year you figure it out. It's good advice. I'm trying to keep things simple this year and not get too upset if all the things I have planned don't get done. Mostly, I want my kids to love to learn. When I get discouraged and overwhelmed, I keep reminding myself that if we succeed in that this year, we will be doing well.
What we're doing: I started teaching Ava to read in the spring using a basic phonics curriculum. She had been showing signs of reading readiness for a while, and I figured if we could get her reading before the baby arrived it would take some of the pressure off of our first year of homeschooling. We start every school day with Long Story Short, a biblical theology devotional for families that goes through the whole Old Testament. Having a consistent devotional time with them is one of my favorite things about homeschooling. I also ordered Singapore Kindergarten Math, which the kids love. For fun, I bought a used set of Five in a Row curricula, which are unit studies based on classic kids' literature. I figured this would serve as a jumping off point for reading good books. My sister-in-law used this curriculum and recommended it, and since my kids already love to read, it is making for an easier transition to formal schooling. Other than that, Ava goes to an enrichment program once a week (which she loves), and I do a letter/number a week with Timmy for preschool.
Surprises: Speaking of Tim, it has surprised me how much he has tagged along with Ava. He just started phonics, but he's doing the same math as Ava, and does all of our unit studies with us.
A month of two ago, he randomly announced: "I want to learn about the rainforest!" So by golly, we went to the library and got some books about the rainforest. It got me thinking: why not build that into our school week? There are plenty of things that I plan for them, but I love letting them have some room for self-directed learning. I think that's what really counts when it comes to developing lifelong learners: engaging their natural curiosity and helping them learn to how to find out what they want to know. So I do a lot of legwork finding them really interesting books about the things their interested in, be that trains, butterflies, snowflakes, mushrooms, flowers, or robots.
All that makes me a bit of an unschooler, which is a surprise. I suppose it shouldn't be since structure is not my strong suit and, in addition to that, we have a 3-month-old routine buster in our house. As a result, we haven't really established a schedule. We didn't really have a firm start date for school, and I don't really have a firm end date in mind either. We have a general to do list for the day, but we cram the tasks wherever they fit. While I do think they need to learn some basics (reading/math), our attitude has, in general, been "Hey! Let's go to the library and learn some stuff!"
Socialization: I think what people mean when they ask about this is, "Aren't homeschoolers a little weird?" Maybe. I don't know. But one of our prayers for Ava since she was born has been that she would be delightfully different. And anyway, our girl (and boy, for that matter) were born social. Just ask the 100 people they talk to at church on Sunday.
What I love: I love seeing my kids excited about learning, and I love being a part of the process. I love seeing them ask questions like: Where is the Yangtze River? How does an apple grow? What is a moonjelly and why does it glow? How can a quilt tell a story? What's it like to drive an excavator? How can juggling be worship? I love seeing them wonder and be in awe of the intricacies of this world, and I love being here to point them to the God who made it.
Not every minute is not glorious. Most are downright mundane. I feel overwhelmed constantly. I told Daniel the other day that it's like I'm playing whack-a-mole with not enough mallets. Balancing school and taking care of a home and four kids is difficult. I'm sure it won't get easier. But for right now, I believe we are doing what is right for our kids. And yes, I'm weird.
Even though homeschooling was an unexpected destination for me, I really love it. I am a trained educator who taught in a public school, so I have some opinions about how things should be done, and some social and academic scenarios I'd rather not see played out in my kids' lives. Homeschooling gives me the opportunity to make their education what I think it should be.
We've been at this for a few months, so I thought it a good time to reflect on why we're doing this, what's hard, and how I see my children learning and growing. Also, since homeschooling is still a bit of a cultural oddity, people express a fair amount of curiosity about it. How is it going? How do you do it with three other kids? What do you do all day? Are you weird?
So here are some of my thoughts after a semester or so of homeschooling:
The why: When Daniel and I were discussing school options, we asked ourselves what would be best for our kids first spiritually and next academically. I will say that it has never been our goal as parents to control the externals so that we can produce "good kids" that won't get themselves into trouble. It is our goal to point them toward repentance and an inward heart change that results in outward change. This is tricky, because inward heart change is the work of the Holy Spirit, but we certainly have a role to play as parents. God gave us the primary responsibility of raising our kids, and at the very least if we entrusted some of that task to someone else we wanted to trust that we would be supported in our work as parents. In these years, our children are so vulnerable and impressionable, and we want to be the primary influence in their lives. And while they have some measure of faith, we personally felt that we wanted to be more confident that Jesus had their hearts before we considered public school. We did not want to send them into a battle for which they are unprepared. They will, of course, have more exposure to the world as they grow and mature, but we want to help equip them for that by showing them how to love and engage people who don't know Jesus in the safety of our own home. Given all this, public school didn't seem like a good option for us at this time. And since private school is out of reach for us financially, homeschooling was the logical choice.
Academically, we had some very general goals for them. We want them to stay creative, imaginative, and curious. We want them to be able to solve problems and communicate well. And we want them to love to to learn. These are stated goals almost everywhere. I'm not sure anyone really knows how to go about achieving them. Do I think I'm going to do it perfectly? By no means. Do I think I'm probably better suited to it than my local public school? Absolutely.
How: An article I read about the first year of homeschooling advised: let this be the year you figure it out. It's good advice. I'm trying to keep things simple this year and not get too upset if all the things I have planned don't get done. Mostly, I want my kids to love to learn. When I get discouraged and overwhelmed, I keep reminding myself that if we succeed in that this year, we will be doing well.
What we're doing: I started teaching Ava to read in the spring using a basic phonics curriculum. She had been showing signs of reading readiness for a while, and I figured if we could get her reading before the baby arrived it would take some of the pressure off of our first year of homeschooling. We start every school day with Long Story Short, a biblical theology devotional for families that goes through the whole Old Testament. Having a consistent devotional time with them is one of my favorite things about homeschooling. I also ordered Singapore Kindergarten Math, which the kids love. For fun, I bought a used set of Five in a Row curricula, which are unit studies based on classic kids' literature. I figured this would serve as a jumping off point for reading good books. My sister-in-law used this curriculum and recommended it, and since my kids already love to read, it is making for an easier transition to formal schooling. Other than that, Ava goes to an enrichment program once a week (which she loves), and I do a letter/number a week with Timmy for preschool.
Surprises: Speaking of Tim, it has surprised me how much he has tagged along with Ava. He just started phonics, but he's doing the same math as Ava, and does all of our unit studies with us.
A month of two ago, he randomly announced: "I want to learn about the rainforest!" So by golly, we went to the library and got some books about the rainforest. It got me thinking: why not build that into our school week? There are plenty of things that I plan for them, but I love letting them have some room for self-directed learning. I think that's what really counts when it comes to developing lifelong learners: engaging their natural curiosity and helping them learn to how to find out what they want to know. So I do a lot of legwork finding them really interesting books about the things their interested in, be that trains, butterflies, snowflakes, mushrooms, flowers, or robots.
All that makes me a bit of an unschooler, which is a surprise. I suppose it shouldn't be since structure is not my strong suit and, in addition to that, we have a 3-month-old routine buster in our house. As a result, we haven't really established a schedule. We didn't really have a firm start date for school, and I don't really have a firm end date in mind either. We have a general to do list for the day, but we cram the tasks wherever they fit. While I do think they need to learn some basics (reading/math), our attitude has, in general, been "Hey! Let's go to the library and learn some stuff!"
Socialization: I think what people mean when they ask about this is, "Aren't homeschoolers a little weird?" Maybe. I don't know. But one of our prayers for Ava since she was born has been that she would be delightfully different. And anyway, our girl (and boy, for that matter) were born social. Just ask the 100 people they talk to at church on Sunday.
What I love: I love seeing my kids excited about learning, and I love being a part of the process. I love seeing them ask questions like: Where is the Yangtze River? How does an apple grow? What is a moonjelly and why does it glow? How can a quilt tell a story? What's it like to drive an excavator? How can juggling be worship? I love seeing them wonder and be in awe of the intricacies of this world, and I love being here to point them to the God who made it.
Not every minute is not glorious. Most are downright mundane. I feel overwhelmed constantly. I told Daniel the other day that it's like I'm playing whack-a-mole with not enough mallets. Balancing school and taking care of a home and four kids is difficult. I'm sure it won't get easier. But for right now, I believe we are doing what is right for our kids. And yes, I'm weird.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
He Bears Me Up.
I looked at this blog the other day, and I realized my last post was right before I was induced with our fourth child. I'm sure all of you are on pins and needles wondering if I had the baby. But since I'm pretty sure that "all of you" is my mom, it's probably okay.
You know when you avoid something for a long time, and then when you want to come back to it, it's completely overwhelming and you feel like it's impossible to get caught up and so you just throw up your hands and feel guilty about it? That. This blog.
So anyway.
We had our baby. A little girl. Her name is Clara. She looked like this:
Then she doubled in size. Now she looks like this:
She's really cute and very sweet. She smiles a lot.
We are now a family of six. We get some interesting comments when we go out, of which my favorite is "Are they all yours?" What does that even mean? Are you asking if I run a daycare? If I brought some neighbor kids along for kicks?
Sometimes I forget that they are all so little. I guess seeing them collectively is overwhelming for people.
Heck, it's overwhelming for me. In some ways, I understand why people say it's not a big deal to have another once you have three. Life goes on. O bla di. We do our normal routine with baby in tow. I'm not so stressed out over the newborn phase. She sleeps when she's tired. She eats when she's hungry. She finds a way to fit into the chaos. In a way, it's old hat. Not that it's easy or less special, because it's not and I really enjoy her. But I don't have the time or energy to stress about the minutiae.
But in other ways, it's completely overwhelming. Everything is harder with a baby in your arms. Making dinner. Keeping a clean house (ha!). Helping a little one onto the potty. Changing a diaper. Disciplining a child. Going to the doctor 30 times since her birth (not an exaggeration).
It all kind of caught up with me yesterday. In late October, Genevieve got her first set of tubes. Yesterday, Timmy got his second set, and his adenoids removed. They both did great, and I think it was the right thing to do. But I realized that I've been going non-stop for a long time, and I am running on fumes. A difficult labor. A fourth child. Scores of doctor's appointments. Homeschooling. Two surgeries. I'm exhausted. It's enough to make me want to cry, "I want my Mommy!" (And Daniel knows, I have).
But in this, I know that God has been with me. I've been reading the Psalms, and I've repeatedly read that he hears my cries. He answers me. He delivers me.
It seems strange to talk about deliverance when speaking of motherhood; it's not suffering. It's just really, really hard. And emptying. I take so much joy in them, but they need me all day, every day. If I don't remember that I need God's strength for this, all day, every day, I'm going to burn out. I need him to deliver me. Each day, I need new mercies.
So, I find myself all the more thankful that God is with me, holding me up, delivering me. I trust that he knows that this is good for me, and he knows what he is accomplishing in me through this season of weariness. And I echo the Psalmist when he writes, "Blessed be the Lord, who daily bears us up. God is our salvation" (Psalm 69:19). Praise God. He bears me up.
You know when you avoid something for a long time, and then when you want to come back to it, it's completely overwhelming and you feel like it's impossible to get caught up and so you just throw up your hands and feel guilty about it? That. This blog.
So anyway.
We had our baby. A little girl. Her name is Clara. She looked like this:
Then she doubled in size. Now she looks like this:
She's really cute and very sweet. She smiles a lot.
We are now a family of six. We get some interesting comments when we go out, of which my favorite is "Are they all yours?" What does that even mean? Are you asking if I run a daycare? If I brought some neighbor kids along for kicks?
Sometimes I forget that they are all so little. I guess seeing them collectively is overwhelming for people.
Heck, it's overwhelming for me. In some ways, I understand why people say it's not a big deal to have another once you have three. Life goes on. O bla di. We do our normal routine with baby in tow. I'm not so stressed out over the newborn phase. She sleeps when she's tired. She eats when she's hungry. She finds a way to fit into the chaos. In a way, it's old hat. Not that it's easy or less special, because it's not and I really enjoy her. But I don't have the time or energy to stress about the minutiae.
But in other ways, it's completely overwhelming. Everything is harder with a baby in your arms. Making dinner. Keeping a clean house (ha!). Helping a little one onto the potty. Changing a diaper. Disciplining a child. Going to the doctor 30 times since her birth (not an exaggeration).
It all kind of caught up with me yesterday. In late October, Genevieve got her first set of tubes. Yesterday, Timmy got his second set, and his adenoids removed. They both did great, and I think it was the right thing to do. But I realized that I've been going non-stop for a long time, and I am running on fumes. A difficult labor. A fourth child. Scores of doctor's appointments. Homeschooling. Two surgeries. I'm exhausted. It's enough to make me want to cry, "I want my Mommy!" (And Daniel knows, I have).
But in this, I know that God has been with me. I've been reading the Psalms, and I've repeatedly read that he hears my cries. He answers me. He delivers me.
It seems strange to talk about deliverance when speaking of motherhood; it's not suffering. It's just really, really hard. And emptying. I take so much joy in them, but they need me all day, every day. If I don't remember that I need God's strength for this, all day, every day, I'm going to burn out. I need him to deliver me. Each day, I need new mercies.
So, I find myself all the more thankful that God is with me, holding me up, delivering me. I trust that he knows that this is good for me, and he knows what he is accomplishing in me through this season of weariness. And I echo the Psalmist when he writes, "Blessed be the Lord, who daily bears us up. God is our salvation" (Psalm 69:19). Praise God. He bears me up.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Induction
As I write, I'm reclining in a hospital bed with an IV in my arm, waiting for the kind nurses at Elmhurst Memorial to induce labor for our fourth child. It's a strange experience for me to walk into the hospital knowing this is the day I'll meet our little bundle (whose gender is yet unknown). I've always simply allowed things to take their course. But my labor with sweet little Genevieve was less than 2 hours in duration, and I am Group B Strep positive, which means I need two doses of antibiotics 4 hours apart to protect our baby. We did the math and decided induction was the wisest and lowest risk thing we could do. So here I sit.
If you think of it, we would appreciate prayers today. Specifically, we would appreciate your prayers for:
-A healthy baby!
-That baby would respond to what they are doing and be willing to come meet us today.
-For peace for us. That God would calm our nerves in a familiar (yet unfamiliar?) process.
-Strength for Daniel. That God would grant him endurance today. He'll need it.
Love you all!
If you think of it, we would appreciate prayers today. Specifically, we would appreciate your prayers for:
-A healthy baby!
-That baby would respond to what they are doing and be willing to come meet us today.
-For peace for us. That God would calm our nerves in a familiar (yet unfamiliar?) process.
-Strength for Daniel. That God would grant him endurance today. He'll need it.
Love you all!
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Full of Good Things
Part of having a slew of preschoolers parading behind you is being told constantly that your hands are full.
But, after reading this article by Rachel Jankovic, I've been rethinking my response. Even a knowing grin or a harried "I know..." communicates something to my kids. In no way do I want to say to my children that I resent them, that they are an imposition or a hindrance. I want to affirm that, even though motherhood is the most difficult task I have ever undertaken, they are treasured and loved. Primarily, I do this by showing them my love--by giving them hugs and kisses, cooking with them, reading with them, feeding them, washing their clothes, comforting them in the middle of the night, and serving them sacrificially. But my speech is important too, and it is especially tempting to complain or grab at sympathy from other adults. "See? Isn't this hard? Look what I have to put up with!"
So, I want to remind myself and affirm to my kids that my hands are full, but they are full of good things. I want them to know that God says they are a blessing and a heritage, and I believe it.
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Parenthood is hard, but it's good. It's good not only because each of them is precious, though my heart swells when I think of them. It's also good because it's hard. They call me every day to lay down my life for them, and ultimately for Christ. I would not trade one of them for a clean house, a little more sanity, or hands less full.
"Wow! Your hands are full!"I usually respond with a knowing grin. My hands are full, and I know it. I'm sure they know I know it. It is, most often, this stranger's way of showing empathy for the stage of life I'm in. Of acknowledging that having three kids five and under (and one more on the way) makes even the most mundane tasks challenging.
"I don't think your hands are full enough!"
"Has anyone ever told you that your hands are full?"
But, after reading this article by Rachel Jankovic, I've been rethinking my response. Even a knowing grin or a harried "I know..." communicates something to my kids. In no way do I want to say to my children that I resent them, that they are an imposition or a hindrance. I want to affirm that, even though motherhood is the most difficult task I have ever undertaken, they are treasured and loved. Primarily, I do this by showing them my love--by giving them hugs and kisses, cooking with them, reading with them, feeding them, washing their clothes, comforting them in the middle of the night, and serving them sacrificially. But my speech is important too, and it is especially tempting to complain or grab at sympathy from other adults. "See? Isn't this hard? Look what I have to put up with!"
So, I want to remind myself and affirm to my kids that my hands are full, but they are full of good things. I want them to know that God says they are a blessing and a heritage, and I believe it.
.jpg)
Parenthood is hard, but it's good. It's good not only because each of them is precious, though my heart swells when I think of them. It's also good because it's hard. They call me every day to lay down my life for them, and ultimately for Christ. I would not trade one of them for a clean house, a little more sanity, or hands less full.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
...And a Happy New Year!
Greetings, Friends!
It’s always been our custom as a married couple to sit down during the holidays and write a Christmas letter. We’ve seen it as a chance to reconnect with friends and family we don’t see very often, reflect on the year, and give thanks to God for his faithfulness to our family. It has always been one of the few non-negotiable to-dos during the Christmas season.
This year, it didn’t happen.
There are a number of reasons that it seemed downright impossible to accomplish this year, but there are three little blessings in particular who have been the primary reason for the delay in this letter. Little blessings that eat all day, create mounds of laundry, are unsatisfied unless every toy bin and cabinet has been emptied, and who, if left alone for 43 seconds, will find a way to climb on top of our minivan.
They are wonderful. We are busy.
It, however, did not seem right to ring in the new year without reflecting on the old, to begin anew without recounting what the Lord has done for us this year. We are overflowing with joy for what He has done, if a little exhausted from the journey.
One of the primary sources of that joy and fatigue is our dear little Genevieve Grace, who arrived on January 10th after a frantic 104 minutes of labor (including the drive to the hospital!).
The only way to adequately describe her is delightful: she has the sweetest little spirit, a gentle temperament, and the most infectious baby giggle one can imagine. She’s very active (now almost walking), but she always comes back to snuggle. We love her fiercely, and she has brought so much joy to our family in the past year. Still, the leap from two children to three has proved greater than we anticipated. After her stay in the hospital with meningitis, three months of sleeping in shifts because she wouldn’t suffer being put down, and recent lack of sleep due to colds and teething, we have discovered that parenthood may be weathered only with strength from the Father, caffeine, and grace. We could not have survived this year without any of these three.
As long as we are on the topic of additions, we have one more to share with you: in early August, Karriza, a friend from church, moved into our home. She needed a place to live and we were delighted to offer her our extra bedroom. She has quickly become a part of our family, affectionately referring to us as “Uncle Dan” and “Aunt Jill.” Originally from Guam, she shares our island sensibility and love of spam fried rice. She has been a blessing to all of us; the kids adore her and she has been a great source of help and companionship to Jill. Her presence in our home has been a tangible reminder that Christ makes family of those who are not. We are grateful to be able to live in true community, to bear each other’s burdens, to pray and encourage one another daily, and to pour out the grace we have received on one another.
We strive to make grace the heartbeat of our family, and nowhere is our need of grace more evident than in our parenting. We enjoy Ava and Timothy immensely, but we are always aware that we are sinful, broken parents bringing up sinful, broken kids. We fail constantly. It’s a pleasure to see how God uses even our failings and our shortcomings to shape them, and how He is priming their ears to receive the gospel every day. They are, of course, incredibly beautiful kids, and we have been blessed to continue to discover how God has made them.
This year has been one of discovery particularly for Tim, two-and-a-half, most notably because he is now talking so much. After six months of chronic ear infections and fluid on his ears, we decided that the wisest course of action was to have tubes put in. Since then, he has very quickly learned new words and is now speaking in full paragraphs! It’s been a joy to finally hear the things he’s thinking, though it’s revealed him to be more of a rascal than we previously gave him credit for. A rascal he may be, but he’s also a sweet little kid, the most conscientious of our bunch, the most likely to say “thank you” and truly mean it from the bottom of his little heart. It melts my heart to hear him say, “I loves you!” He’s going to make some girl a good husband one day.
Ava is now four-and-a-half, which doesn’t sound too daunting until I realize that she will be five in April and will start school in August. We still have not a clue what we are doing for schooling, but we have been doing reading lessons as often as time permits (perhaps once a week), and she is getting the hang of it. She is ever the social butterfly, and it makes my heart happy to see her love without reservation. She is gifted at making people feel loved and accepted, and I am constantly challenged to love people better because of her.
Together, Ava and Tim are a force—they lend new meaning to the term creative destruction. A few of their favorite things to do: play with Legos, build forts, pull the couch cushions onto the floor, play darkout, pretend they are anything they please, demand stories, and attempt to drive their mommy batty. They certainly keep Jill on her toes. She mostly finds herself in triage mode, trying to figure out what the most important thing to do is at any given moment. She fights daily to balance the tasks that keep the family running (laundry, cooking, cleaning) with those that keep the children feeling loved (reading, cuddling, playing). She is learning more and more a posture of dependence and that her approval from God doesn’t rest on how many of the items on her to-do list get checked off.
Daniel has struggled this year in different ways. His job had become progressively harder to bear—forcing him to work in a discouraging work environment, to pursue business in a difficult economic climate, and taking him to India again in October. Shortly after he returned from India, however, a new job opportunity presented itself at Halvorson & Partners, a firm in downtown Chicago. He accepted the offer and started a few weeks ago. He is excited to be working where his gifts are being used and where he is learning. We are so grateful to God for providing this opportunity for him.
We are ever more aware, as 2012 has closed and 2013 has begun, of the depth of God’s goodness toward us. We find ourselves more thankful for his grace, provision, and steadfast love toward us and confident that he will provide all we need in this new year. We pray that you would also hope in him this year.
Love,
Daniel, Jill, Karriza, Ava, Timothy, and Genevieve
Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen. ~Ephesians 3:20-21
It’s always been our custom as a married couple to sit down during the holidays and write a Christmas letter. We’ve seen it as a chance to reconnect with friends and family we don’t see very often, reflect on the year, and give thanks to God for his faithfulness to our family. It has always been one of the few non-negotiable to-dos during the Christmas season.
This year, it didn’t happen.
There are a number of reasons that it seemed downright impossible to accomplish this year, but there are three little blessings in particular who have been the primary reason for the delay in this letter. Little blessings that eat all day, create mounds of laundry, are unsatisfied unless every toy bin and cabinet has been emptied, and who, if left alone for 43 seconds, will find a way to climb on top of our minivan.
They are wonderful. We are busy.
It, however, did not seem right to ring in the new year without reflecting on the old, to begin anew without recounting what the Lord has done for us this year. We are overflowing with joy for what He has done, if a little exhausted from the journey.
One of the primary sources of that joy and fatigue is our dear little Genevieve Grace, who arrived on January 10th after a frantic 104 minutes of labor (including the drive to the hospital!).
The only way to adequately describe her is delightful: she has the sweetest little spirit, a gentle temperament, and the most infectious baby giggle one can imagine. She’s very active (now almost walking), but she always comes back to snuggle. We love her fiercely, and she has brought so much joy to our family in the past year. Still, the leap from two children to three has proved greater than we anticipated. After her stay in the hospital with meningitis, three months of sleeping in shifts because she wouldn’t suffer being put down, and recent lack of sleep due to colds and teething, we have discovered that parenthood may be weathered only with strength from the Father, caffeine, and grace. We could not have survived this year without any of these three.
As long as we are on the topic of additions, we have one more to share with you: in early August, Karriza, a friend from church, moved into our home. She needed a place to live and we were delighted to offer her our extra bedroom. She has quickly become a part of our family, affectionately referring to us as “Uncle Dan” and “Aunt Jill.” Originally from Guam, she shares our island sensibility and love of spam fried rice. She has been a blessing to all of us; the kids adore her and she has been a great source of help and companionship to Jill. Her presence in our home has been a tangible reminder that Christ makes family of those who are not. We are grateful to be able to live in true community, to bear each other’s burdens, to pray and encourage one another daily, and to pour out the grace we have received on one another.
We strive to make grace the heartbeat of our family, and nowhere is our need of grace more evident than in our parenting. We enjoy Ava and Timothy immensely, but we are always aware that we are sinful, broken parents bringing up sinful, broken kids. We fail constantly. It’s a pleasure to see how God uses even our failings and our shortcomings to shape them, and how He is priming their ears to receive the gospel every day. They are, of course, incredibly beautiful kids, and we have been blessed to continue to discover how God has made them.
This year has been one of discovery particularly for Tim, two-and-a-half, most notably because he is now talking so much. After six months of chronic ear infections and fluid on his ears, we decided that the wisest course of action was to have tubes put in. Since then, he has very quickly learned new words and is now speaking in full paragraphs! It’s been a joy to finally hear the things he’s thinking, though it’s revealed him to be more of a rascal than we previously gave him credit for. A rascal he may be, but he’s also a sweet little kid, the most conscientious of our bunch, the most likely to say “thank you” and truly mean it from the bottom of his little heart. It melts my heart to hear him say, “I loves you!” He’s going to make some girl a good husband one day.
Ava is now four-and-a-half, which doesn’t sound too daunting until I realize that she will be five in April and will start school in August. We still have not a clue what we are doing for schooling, but we have been doing reading lessons as often as time permits (perhaps once a week), and she is getting the hang of it. She is ever the social butterfly, and it makes my heart happy to see her love without reservation. She is gifted at making people feel loved and accepted, and I am constantly challenged to love people better because of her.
Together, Ava and Tim are a force—they lend new meaning to the term creative destruction. A few of their favorite things to do: play with Legos, build forts, pull the couch cushions onto the floor, play darkout, pretend they are anything they please, demand stories, and attempt to drive their mommy batty. They certainly keep Jill on her toes. She mostly finds herself in triage mode, trying to figure out what the most important thing to do is at any given moment. She fights daily to balance the tasks that keep the family running (laundry, cooking, cleaning) with those that keep the children feeling loved (reading, cuddling, playing). She is learning more and more a posture of dependence and that her approval from God doesn’t rest on how many of the items on her to-do list get checked off.
Daniel has struggled this year in different ways. His job had become progressively harder to bear—forcing him to work in a discouraging work environment, to pursue business in a difficult economic climate, and taking him to India again in October. Shortly after he returned from India, however, a new job opportunity presented itself at Halvorson & Partners, a firm in downtown Chicago. He accepted the offer and started a few weeks ago. He is excited to be working where his gifts are being used and where he is learning. We are so grateful to God for providing this opportunity for him.
We are ever more aware, as 2012 has closed and 2013 has begun, of the depth of God’s goodness toward us. We find ourselves more thankful for his grace, provision, and steadfast love toward us and confident that he will provide all we need in this new year. We pray that you would also hope in him this year.
Love,
Daniel, Jill, Karriza, Ava, Timothy, and Genevieve
Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen. ~Ephesians 3:20-21
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Conversations
Ava: *cough cough*
Timmy: Bless you, Ava!
Ava: You don't have to say 'bless you', Tim. I'm coughing, not sneezing.
Timmy: Sorry, Ava.
Ava: *cough cough*
Timmy: Sorry, Ava. Sorry.
Ava: You don't have to say anything, Tim. I'm coughing, not sneezing!
Timmy: You're welcome!
I love, love, love to hear them talking to each other. It's great.
Timmy: Bless you, Ava!
Ava: You don't have to say 'bless you', Tim. I'm coughing, not sneezing.
Timmy: Sorry, Ava.
Ava: *cough cough*
Timmy: Sorry, Ava. Sorry.
Ava: You don't have to say anything, Tim. I'm coughing, not sneezing!
Timmy: You're welcome!
I love, love, love to hear them talking to each other. It's great.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Manna
Daniel just got back from India. Because he is a structural engineer, and they are building things in India. These trips are never easy on either of us, but this one seemed particularly hard. Hard on him because he was physically exhausted, discouraged, under a lot of pressure, isolated from family. Hard on me because I was dealing with an antibiotic-resistant sinus infection, fatigue, headaches, a cat with a broken leg, sewage overflowing into the basement, two teething and sleepless children, and missing my best friend and favorite companion. We were downright weary.
When Daniel got home, I told him that so often it seemed like I had just enough to make it through, that I was just barely on the edge of my sanity. And then I thought that so often this is how God works. In Exodus, when the Israelites were wandering, he gave them manna to eat, their daily provision. They were forced to trust God daily for their needs. Psalms speaks of God daily bearing us up. Lamentations tells us that his mercies are new every morning. In the Lord's Prayer, Jesus asks for daily bread. Each day, new provision, new mercies, new strength, new grace.
Looking back on Daniel's trip, I see how he provided these things for me--strength to stand and rock the baby at 2 am, friends to help with dinner and kids and rest, people who prayed for us and sent messages of encouragement. He poured out the grace I needed when I was anxious, sad, and lonely. He set my hope in Him every day, reminding me that He is my ultimate need.
Even now that Daniel is back, I am constantly aware of that need. I feel as though I can barely catch my breath. Life is heavy. I feel inadequate all the time. In all this, I know that He is the only reason I'm still standing. Being in need is not fun, and I kick against it. But he provides daily. He is always faithful.
When Daniel got home, I told him that so often it seemed like I had just enough to make it through, that I was just barely on the edge of my sanity. And then I thought that so often this is how God works. In Exodus, when the Israelites were wandering, he gave them manna to eat, their daily provision. They were forced to trust God daily for their needs. Psalms speaks of God daily bearing us up. Lamentations tells us that his mercies are new every morning. In the Lord's Prayer, Jesus asks for daily bread. Each day, new provision, new mercies, new strength, new grace.
Looking back on Daniel's trip, I see how he provided these things for me--strength to stand and rock the baby at 2 am, friends to help with dinner and kids and rest, people who prayed for us and sent messages of encouragement. He poured out the grace I needed when I was anxious, sad, and lonely. He set my hope in Him every day, reminding me that He is my ultimate need.
Even now that Daniel is back, I am constantly aware of that need. I feel as though I can barely catch my breath. Life is heavy. I feel inadequate all the time. In all this, I know that He is the only reason I'm still standing. Being in need is not fun, and I kick against it. But he provides daily. He is always faithful.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Dreams
Sometimes it's hard for me to see past the here and now. It's easy to understand why. The here and now is kind of overwhelming. Spit up, dirty diapers, kids tugging at my clothes. Goodness knows, there are plenty of good things about the here and now too. Cuddling, giggling, playing, pretending, loving, teaching, praying, hoping. Our days are full. And sometimes it's hard to see beyond them.
I fervently believe that my first and primary mission field is my children. I am sure God has called me to be at home with my little ones, shepherding them in their teachable (and not so teachable) moments. Motherhood is a kingdom task, though not as flashy as building wells in Africa or combating human trafficking (also both important, mind you). God has given me a task, and though it is not glamorous, it is important.
Nevertheless, I dream. I think on the transcendent. I hope that the story our family would reach beyond these sometimes ordinary, sometimes eternally significant days. I pray that our family would together be about God's kingdom. I believe God has given us dreams about who he wants us to be and how he wants to use us.
The first of these dreams is that I want to write. When I think about what I want to do when my littles are not so little, it almost always revolves around writing. I am almost embarrassed to say it, because lots of people want to be writers. Like every waitress in L.A. wants to be an actress. When I think about the way God has wired me, though, it becomes clear that writing is a part of my make-up. It's how I organize my thoughts and make sense of my life. It's cathartic.
I'm not sure what form this might take. I've been dabbling in children's book writing. I've thought about trying to write articles for Boundless. There's a certain someone with whom I've been dreaming about writing a book for four years or so. (Notice this period of time coincides with the age of my eldest child, which so obviously explains why it hasn't happened yet). I've been trying to at least keep blogging about how incredibly hard it is to mother, to grow, to believe, to hope. However and whatever I write, though, I want it to be permeated with the gospel of Jesus Christ. I want it to give grace to others. It is a desire I believe God has given me.
Secondly, we believe that God has called us to adopt. God has broken my heart (and Daniel's) for the broken-hearted. I am certain of it. There a few things I am more passionate about, few things that drive me to tears more quickly than to think of the Lord setting the lonely in families. It's about mercy, and it's about God. He has adopted us, he has made us his children. I believe that he has called our little family to image that in a small way. We don't know if he has called us to adopt internationally (which is what first pricked my heart for adoption), domestically, or out of foster care. We know that both the process of adoption and parenting an adopted child is far more complex an than we can comprehend. I do trust the God who has implanted a passion for it in our hearts to meet us in the process and give us grace for it.
These dreams involve real work. Hard work. And some days it's hard to get out of bed much less think about filling out reams of paperwork or crafting a sentence worth reading. I wanted you all who love our family to know, so that you can pray for us and keep us accountable to actually do something. Because these days, it's far to easy to do nothing besides the immediate. This is the season of life in which, if we are not careful, dreams are swallowed up by the every day. I want to see that they don't, because I believe that God has put these dreams in our hearts.
I fervently believe that my first and primary mission field is my children. I am sure God has called me to be at home with my little ones, shepherding them in their teachable (and not so teachable) moments. Motherhood is a kingdom task, though not as flashy as building wells in Africa or combating human trafficking (also both important, mind you). God has given me a task, and though it is not glamorous, it is important.
Nevertheless, I dream. I think on the transcendent. I hope that the story our family would reach beyond these sometimes ordinary, sometimes eternally significant days. I pray that our family would together be about God's kingdom. I believe God has given us dreams about who he wants us to be and how he wants to use us.
The first of these dreams is that I want to write. When I think about what I want to do when my littles are not so little, it almost always revolves around writing. I am almost embarrassed to say it, because lots of people want to be writers. Like every waitress in L.A. wants to be an actress. When I think about the way God has wired me, though, it becomes clear that writing is a part of my make-up. It's how I organize my thoughts and make sense of my life. It's cathartic.
I'm not sure what form this might take. I've been dabbling in children's book writing. I've thought about trying to write articles for Boundless. There's a certain someone with whom I've been dreaming about writing a book for four years or so. (Notice this period of time coincides with the age of my eldest child, which so obviously explains why it hasn't happened yet). I've been trying to at least keep blogging about how incredibly hard it is to mother, to grow, to believe, to hope. However and whatever I write, though, I want it to be permeated with the gospel of Jesus Christ. I want it to give grace to others. It is a desire I believe God has given me.
Secondly, we believe that God has called us to adopt. God has broken my heart (and Daniel's) for the broken-hearted. I am certain of it. There a few things I am more passionate about, few things that drive me to tears more quickly than to think of the Lord setting the lonely in families. It's about mercy, and it's about God. He has adopted us, he has made us his children. I believe that he has called our little family to image that in a small way. We don't know if he has called us to adopt internationally (which is what first pricked my heart for adoption), domestically, or out of foster care. We know that both the process of adoption and parenting an adopted child is far more complex an than we can comprehend. I do trust the God who has implanted a passion for it in our hearts to meet us in the process and give us grace for it.
These dreams involve real work. Hard work. And some days it's hard to get out of bed much less think about filling out reams of paperwork or crafting a sentence worth reading. I wanted you all who love our family to know, so that you can pray for us and keep us accountable to actually do something. Because these days, it's far to easy to do nothing besides the immediate. This is the season of life in which, if we are not careful, dreams are swallowed up by the every day. I want to see that they don't, because I believe that God has put these dreams in our hearts.
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