THINGS unexpected

Sometimes you work really hard and you get absolutely nowhere, and God doesn't seem to be listening. Or He takes entirely too long, from our perspective.  But sometimes, you are looking the other way when you get hit by His plans.   Sometimes, He plops an enormous THING in your path.  And this THING has wheels and is going at the speed of light and you collide with it.  As you roll along on the juggernaut, you remind Him that isn't your THING right now.  (Like the God of all THINGS really doesn't know what He's doing.)   

The THING circles you, looking at you, in spite of your asking it nicely to move along or come back later. God wakes you up in the middle of the night with word pictures and things that have always resonated with you, and tells you it is time.  He sends very unlikely advocates and they speak unexpected challenges towards your roles and family needs.  You also hear encouragement to move forward when you expected agreement with your reluctance.  

What's a girl to do?

Love the THING.  Do the THING.  Trust God with the rest- trust that He loves you more, loves your family more, loves the people you are impacting more than you possibly can.  He will make a way.  

And here's the THING. 

I had been praying for the right part time job to open up, something I could do to help build our finances back up and prepare for the first kid leaving for college in four years. So I responded to an ad hoping to dialogue about future jobs and get some substitute teaching in. 

I fell in love with this little Christian school and their mission and ministry.  I think they liked me. They offered me a job.  I took it, after about two weeks of serious prayer and seeking advice.

I start teaching again in less than four weeks.  I'm excited.  I'm terrified.  Most of you know my heart is with teaching, but it's also with being a good mama.  But I can't tell you how my other teaching job offer felt wrong  and got worse and this one feels exactly right and gets better.

The biggest worry and prayer subject is Nora, of course.  The hardest thing will be not being home with her.  But I kept thinking of Susanna Wesley, for some reason.  She had ten children. She worked all the time running a house doing difficult, attention-demanding work and managed to have fifteen minutes alone with every child every day. Most of her children made a mark on the world for Christ. Somehow she made it work. 

I have a huge span between kids.  When Nora was born, an offhand remark from someone I love made me think very hard.  My friend said," My younger siblings were born when I was 14 and 16, and I felt like I was left alone to grow up because my parents were so enamored with their new little ones." How awful, to feel that a sibling was not a blessing but a replacement.  I knew then that it would be challenging to parent such a wide spread.  We are at a point right now where the older two are needy in vastly different ways than a toddler. I have to tend to all of my lambs, not just one.  And that might mean something different than I would normally do, because honey, we are way past normal. 

God worked out all the details, months ago, where the hours Nora will be away from Chris and myself are minimal and she will actually stay at home. H. is our sitter and she's gotten to be a great friend this summer. We could have a whole post on why H. is coming into our family at this time, but let's just leave it at God-appointed on both ends.  I respect her tremendously and she works part time here at camp during the school year.  Nora's time fits right in between her hours.  The funds she earns sitting for us are going to send her to Africa, we hope.

Being at home also means, even with our seriously amazing sitter around, Chris will be less than 100 yards away. He can have lunch with her and put her down for a nap if he wants. Stuff happens, and he's right here if it does.  There's also no waste of precious time and wrestling diaper bags and car seats in weather while dropping Nora off at a third location, or putting her into a group situation which she's too young for.  I'm very happy about that. 

Olivia gets to go to school with me.  I've been doing some serious praying over this kid as she approaches middle school and womanhood.  I could not have designed a more Olivia friendly school environment if I'd tried. I get the feeling that God is honing in on her heart and soul through this.  She's struggled with feeling downsized since Nora's arrival.  She'll have Mom time as we drive to school every day, all to herself, no interruptions.  I'm in the classroom across the porch from her. She's very happy about that. 

Jack gets to earn a little money stepping up on chores and handling the changeover from H. after school (this means hanging out with Nora during her designated Dora viewing slot.)  He feels left out of the sister party, and I've been praying for bonding time for my bookends. He will get to go on church mission and ski trips and save up for his computer.  Also, see the whole college aspect above.  He's very happy about all of that.  

God knows our needs, every one of them.  In the last few days I have seen Him weave things together and answer prayers almost before I finished them.  He's provided a better answer in some cases than I had asked for.  Have you ever seen it happen like that? 

This THING will be amazing and hard and wonderful and challenging.  And my house will not be clean, and we will eat a lot of pizza, but those things are the reality anyway.  The laundry will be ridiculous, but everyone will learn a little more about whites, darks, and reds. Everyone will stretch, but everyone will grow, too.  

The thing about the THING is, I haven't had too many times in my life when God said, "Do this. Now." But I feel very convicted, absolutely called. I watched in awe as every single worry I had turned to an answer.  I had no reason to tell God no to this ministry.   I have no idea why He is letting me do this.  This THING was not what I was looking for, but it was looking for me.

I feel very small and inadequate and blessed.

Publish Post

House Rules

I love that there are other families like mine out there with big gaps between siblings.  The funniest thing happens when we mommies of late arrivals meet each other:  we say, "OHHHH!" and hug with a smile.  Even though we've just met.  This usually happens at  toddler enrichment activities like story time at the library (Wigglers, anyone?)  where we stand out from the hip young mamas with our wrinkles, mom sweats/jeans, and  slightly recalcitrant older siblings in tow. (Because, yeah, the unfiltered internet at the library freaks me out.)

 The young mamas are doing the things we did ten years ago because it is part of a repertoire of delightful child-centric life.  I don't know about the other big gap mamas, but I am doing it out of guilt for all the stuff my present toddler doesn't get to do.   She's not getting the same experience as her older sibs; but I find lots of comfort in the idea that she's getting a rich one.  It's just different. 

We immediately connect, draw off to the side, and make plans to see each other again.  Which we know will be very difficult between accommodating the needs of a toddler and playing taxi driver and psychologist to our tweens and teens. But we do get together, like rare birds, and bask in the contentment that comes from being with those like yourself.  It's really fun and refreshing to the soul, even if it's fifteen minutes over coffee.

And we also share bizarre rules that don't apply to families where the children are more closely grouped.   What we've learned is simple:  what parents say matters to a toddler, but what siblings say is what most often comes out  of their mouths.  It's tricky to balance between the freedom and privileges of a teenager and the right to a fairly normal childhood of a toddler.  Here are a few house rules from our families or those compadres we've met along the way:

1.  If the toddler learns a bad word, the big kid who said it in front of them gets THEIR mouth washed out with soap. 

2. It is mandatory that you read the toddler five stories if you want to have a prayer of going to the mall later today. 

3. You may not bad mouth, mock, or otherwise give Barney, Elmo, Dora, or any of their tribe a bad vibe that makes your littlest sister dislike them or think they are uncool.  When your project for AP English is due, you'll be very glad something entertains your younger sibling for 24 minutes while I proofread your project, uninterrupted.

4. I'll bet you can tinkle right through that Dora the Explorer Potty Seat, but if you know what's good for you, you won't try. Unless, of course, you'd like to remove urine from the nooks and crannies of those little padded wonders. Take it off, it takes two seconds, that's what the handles are for. *This has not happened yet at my house, I don't think, but from other families.

5.  She does not need to know how to "shake it like a polaroid", so watch what you "Just Dance" to when she's around. Please.

6.  AC/DC is never appropriate for bedtime lullabies.  Neither is anything from the Beatles hallucinogenic period.  All we need is a toddler singing "I am the Walrus."  And she would.  She'd probably sing it while she shook it like a polaroid. 

7. The toddler is not to be used for chick bait. We joke, but really, don't. 

8.  A preschooler, however, can be used as a chaperone.   They tell everything.  We parents like that. 

9. A toddler is not your personal parrot or toy.  Do not mess with their vocabulary development by having them repeat ridiculous phrases or do tricks with words.  You will either create an attention monster or worse, actually cause language acquisition issues. 

10.  You can, however, sing their favorite songs with them 90 times a day and do the motions, too.  We did it for you, and look how well you turned out! :)

My next post will be the 10 coolest things about having much older siblings. It will be hard, because there's more like a thousand amazing things.  But I will pick my favorites. 

Au Contraire-the Mobius Strip of Feminism

Continuing my previous post...

When I express my worry, the response is often:  "You'll have time to pursue teaching and writing when they get older or leave for school."

Really?  Maybe not! Maybe no one wants to hire someone who's been out of the loop for a long time professionally.  Both fields are extremely competitive and reliant on personnel who are au courant.

Other advice comes in the form of reassurances: "But just think how much more happy and well-adjusted your kids will be if you are home."  Mmmm, no guarantees there, either.  The older two are getting to the point where my opinions are only opinions.  Their decisions are going to be theirs, not mine.  Life throws a lot at our kids, and  while I do my best, it's ultimately beyond my control.  That's between them and God. 

 And who's to say I am a good mom?  I can honestly say that there are days when the puberty-fueled drama at our house coupled with the high needs of a toddler do not bring out the best in me.  Becoming a mother for the third time at a later age has not calmed these struggles; it's exacerbated them.  I feel like I have less time to do the things I want to do. I'm more selfish than I ever felt as a younger mom. 

I think too much. About me.  There are a lot of I's in the paragraphs above.

But.

There are three people whom God has put in my life.  I impact them more than anyone else will.  He reminds me of that daily. He gives new grace daily. He helps me to remember that this is not my permanent legacy, the things here in this life. 

 I had the opportunity this year to switch roles, to pursue career full time and then some.  My husband simultaneously had a career offer in another state. He was perfectly willing to make it my choice, my time, my jump.  Ms. Badinter would have loved the things he said and offered to do to make it work!

I said no.  It was just not the right thing at the right time. 

And it was my choice. No one else made it for me. Perhaps Ms. Badinter is right to be appalled at the lack of women at the top of things, but my guess is that many women choose to prioritize family over career because (shhhh) it's exhausting to attempt to be all things to all people.  

Several  friends balance advanced careers and family life incredibly well.  They are extremely talented and exhibit a clear call on their lives.  (You know who you are and I am wowed by what you do, and I know how much guff you take on it, too.)  But I am not wired the same way. 

Feminism to me is the ability to choose what I want to do with my life.  That's exactly where I find the flaw in Ms. Badinter's ideals.  You can't argue for the right to choose only particular things. 

I know Ms. Badinter would not like me for this, but my three are my current career.  They are not my idols, nor are they constructs of a societal pressure to produce model citizens. Somedays I really like my job, other times I struggle with whether I chose poorly. But it's what I picked, and I  want to do my best at it for my own sake as well as theirs.  

A mentor of mine several years ago told me, "You'll never know if what you want to do is any good unless you make it the main thing."  And that's my hope, that my main thing(s) will turn out well. 

Ms. Badinter, I salute you, because in a Mobius strip of logic, I get to be what I am in direct contradiction of and yet because of you.   

Here's to choices, feminism, and the freedom to do in Christ whatever it is He's called us to do.  

Au Contraire, part one

Choosing to stay at home (mostly) and raise children (especially "green" children) is a betrayal of all our predecessors have worked for, according to a leading feminist. Okay, so maybe she's a French feminist, but this chick has serious chops and impact on women's issues around the world.  That's throwing down some pretty big gauntlets, but I think she's only saying what many of us face: the conflict between being what our educations and opportunities allow us to be and the desire for home and family.  It's the golden handcuffs of feminism. 

Intellectual, historian, and feminist  Elisabeth Badinter caused quite the ruckus last year in France with the release of her book, Conflict: The Woman and the Mother.  In this treatise, she takes the current generation of Frenchwomen to task for backsliding in the feminist movement through trying to put motherhood first.  Breast feeding in particular and the expectation to provide a nurturing environment for one's offspring are seen as serious hindrances to one's career and "sociobiological corruptions", a  societally inflicted guilt trip for women which holds them back from achieving on par with men. 

 Well, duh.  Or whatever the French equivalent may be.  It is really hard to juggle a newborn who needs to eat every two or three hours and business functions, teacher prep, or client meetings. I've done it. It wasn't pretty.  Things didn't really improve with toddlerhood. People were very kind and supportive, but the times I tried to juggle motherhood and full time work were less than my best moments. No one got what they needed from me.  When I went back to work this past spring temporarily, it took a husband and two grandparents to help out with our three kids and keep everyone afloat. My eleven year old put it succinctly: "Dad, you are a great dad, but you are not a very good mama."  He would be the first to agree. 

I will be very upfront: I haven't read Badinter's book ( I don't read French) but I really, really want to read it.  I've had to make do with reading synopses and articles about the book. Even though it is aimed very specifically at a small country which values intellectualism and discussion, the book itself made ripples around the world. I agree with her on this premise:  you really can't do it all.  It is incredibly hard to be fantastic at what you do professionally and keep it all together on the home front.  Something's gotta give: work, marriage, kids, life, health. 

Here's a link to the original NY Times article that caught my eye:  http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/06/fashion/06Culture.html. 

A year later, her pronouncements are still so controversial that the July 2011 issue of the New Yorker featured a piece on Ms. Badinter and her book.  She is, from all accounts, a tremendously talented historian and writer.  She also has three children and is married to a very prominent French lawyer who has played a significant role in French government.  Badinter isn't just writing from an intellectual perspective- she has to balance work, family, and societal expectations. Self-deprecating, she described herself as" a mediocre mother" in the  original Times piece.  I kind of doubt that anything this doyenne of French feminism does is mediocre, but maybe she's just being honest about what her priorities are. 

It was oddly good to hear what she was thinking, because I know I struggle with woman vs. mother questions sometimes.  I feel I lose my relevancy, I worry that the things I do have no significance.  (Excuse me for a moment while I go take the diapers out of the wash for roughly the 200th time.  It's getting old.)   I love my children with an intensity that makes me frightened sometimes, yet I wonder what my legacy outside of mothering will be.   

To be continued. 

tent plopdown 9.0

We've been in our new digs for about three and a half weeks. Chris has been at work for three weeks, and we are thrilled to be here at the camp.  I really can't explain how thankful we are, but it would be awkward if I began kissing the feet of those who asked us to come here every time I saw them.

So, I am just trying to be a very good camp wife, to be available as needed or wanted, to figure out the culture through observation rather than transgression.  My three T's- teen, tween, and toddler- are all giddy with joy.  The tween is in her second round of day camp.  The teen is going to get involved next week.  The toddler just loves all the people who tell her she's cute and play with her!

Here's the timeline:

• first of May- Chris has phone interview with camp in Washington.  After lots of disappointing leads and interviews, we pray and keep looking. But we nurture a secret hope...maybe this time... but I apply for what seems like the hundredth teaching job just in case.
• second week of May- I finish with my temp jobs and am asked to take a part-time library job. I thankfully take library job.  Receive phone call requesting interview for teaching position three hours later. Sigh.
• five days later- get offered teaching job by school I really want to work for and work with. Must jump through testing hoops to continue after first year-- six big flaming ones.  I should know, I bombed two of them before.  I have successfully jumped through two of the six already, but the time elapsed is too great, and I must perform again.  This is kind of scary. Hmmm.  Quietly give thanks that a contract takes a little time. 
• 3rd week plus a few days of May-  School district :"Would you mind two more hoops?" Me: "Yes.  I will jump through six, but no more. I would like to be able to teach and not just study for tests all year and attend classes that I have already taken before." Chris and kids aren't sure what they think, but a full time job is what we need.
•  3rd week plus a few days plus two- I get a contract approval and job offer.  Chris gets a phone call from camp inviting him to interview onsite for position.  Fess up to Library, ask for time off. Meet with HR and email principal from school to explain.  Most awkward thing, ever.
• Fourth week- attempt to fly to camp, flight cancelled.  (Amy cries in airport from all the accumulated drama.)  Next day, we get there. Beautiful place, wonderful camp, solid staff. Please?  
•  End of May-Offer from camp.  Decision time. Lots of prayer.  Can we do it?  Which way to go?  Kids weigh in- Camp!  Sad and yet right phone call to school district.  Everyone feels led to go to Washington. 
•  First of June-Two weeks notice at Library- frantic last minute family things with grandparents, including the tween embarking on a cross country trip to see Ohioan side. Find new home for best dog in the world (one of the hardest parts).
• Mid June-Finish up at work, pack Uhaul truck. Tearful goodbye to grandparents.  Drive across country, meeting Ohio GPs in Colorado for a great night together and tween retrieval.
• Third week in June- Arrive at camp.  Truck unpacked in 1 hour with entire summer leadership staff assist.  Get settled.
• Four days after arrival-  Long awaited nephew arrives...back in Texas. Sigh. 
• Five days after arrival- one year since we knew we would leave our last camp, Chris's third  day of work, and his birthday.

 Six weeks before, all we had were uncertainties and a meager part time job.  Now we have a new home, new ministry chances, and new but familiar location where we thought we'd never get to live again.  It's exhausting to read it, but it was exhilarating to live it. 

 I like my new tent.  

recent events

This was my profile until today.  I am deeply grateful for the many who have "prayed us through." You held up our arms!
I miss teaching but love mothering, have lost all semblance of organization in my home since the baby arrived. I love God's word and am really trying hard to follow Him, but He loves me in spite of my efforts. My husband has been unemployed for several months now, and we really aren't sure what happens next. We are currently dwelling in a figurative tent in the Texas Panhandle, occupying all the spare bedrooms in my gracious parents' home. 
My family begins with my husband, truly the only man I will ever love and who really gets me. A total gift from God. I also have a devastatingly handsome and intelligent 8th grade son, who thinks about the world in a different way than a lot of people, and that's a very good thing. I am thankful for my two daughters. My  creative, beautiful, smart 5th grade girl is navigating the minefields of early puberty with grace and savoir faire. And then there is our spoiled rotten, late-arriving toddler who sleeps wherever she wants and enjoys life to the fullest. Oh, and she likes tunafish salad, so you must hide it. She has been know to lick plates left behind on the floor by older siblings.
Update on Texas students-
My writing students all passed their state exam with THEIR story.  Yay!  My reading students all passed save one, and she was very close.   Yahoo!  And I know she will get it, she just needs a little more time to figure out how it works.  Next year, she will get commended, I know.  I will really miss working alongside them. 

Lenten Grace

"Yet she could see by their shocked and altered faces that even their virtues were being burned away." Revelation by Flannery O'Connor

I recently half-heard a talk in which the speaker extensively spoke on this short story, and I was so thankful to be reminded of it, even if his point was not what I brought away.

The "they" implied by the pronoun in the above quote refers to the moral, upright Christian folk spied in a religious vision by a woman cut of that same moral cloth. The good folk are at the tail end of a parade following all manner of undesirables into the kingdom of Heaven. Prim and proper, they are the only ones marching in an orderly fashion, singing on key, and generally following the rules--but as they march, they are changed, to their consternation. I don't want anyone to be deprived of the privilege of reading the story, so I won't tell you more. (But find it today if you can!)

I love Flannery O'Connor's short stories. Acerbic, cutting to the quick of the human condition with an elegant and honest knife, her characters are often not attractive- it's difficult to identify a protagonist, much less a hero in her tales of the South. Her stories are brutally honest and filled with a very uneasy look at grace.

Maybe that's why I love her work. Fairly few of us would qualify as a hero, and my view of myself as protagonist may well be in direct contrast to someone's view of me as antagonist. The grace I would like to experience is often not the grace I am given. And when the drought of my local geography reflects my spiritual state, honesty is all I have.

It is Lenten season again, and I don't know that I have ever inhabited the season so fully before. In January, we blew back into my home turf with our possessions like so many tumbleweeds- home gone, job gone, shaken, sad, confused, ill- driven before a circumstantial whirlwind and helpless before it.

Everything is ashen; gray and hard on the surface, soft and shifting underneath, like the fallout of some recent volcanic blast rather than a gentle smudge on my forehead. This ridiculous cavalcade of misfortune- it grits at the soul, leaves a terrible taste in my mouth, renders my prayers bitter.

After so many months and so many prayers, I am finding it hard to keep at it. God and I just sit and look at each other. He's nearly palpable in his proximity but He just doesn't say much. I would do whatever He wants. It is far more tenuous a thing to sit and let a torrent of trouble just wash over my life, knowing God is sitting there watching it happen. At least He holds my hand. This ashen grace is not, at present, one I would choose, but it is what I am being given.

Miss O'Connor, a Catholic single lady in a bastion of Protestantism, somehow found words to describe to what happens sometimes to tidy, comfortable lives. It is happening to me.

Grace, a brutal, ashen grace.

Honest, not easy, but true nonetheless. All my own "virtue" is being burned away, things I never really thought of as dross, things locusts are eating. As for what remains, I am not sure that the term hope describes what sits in my heart but something more certain.

Easter.