Spiritual gifts

To all of my friends who understand what it is to be an introvert and don't expect me to act like an extrovert, thank you.

I just got home from a baby shower. It was lovely and beautiful and the mom to be is one of the sweetest women I know. I went because I remember my shower and how much it meant to me that people came. It's nice to get gifts, but there is something special about someone showing up to celebrate. Coming home I'm exhausted and there is no physical reason for it. I spoke what little I had to for politeness to the people around me, and had a truly lovely conversation with the moms of the couple being celebrated. So there was no reason to be exhausted... except I was in a room full of people I didn't know for a few hours. It makes my heart race and I get nervous and anxious and awkward. I get a headache and start to feel incredibly overwhelmed when I'm around a large number of people- even if I know them, but more so when I don't know them. If you're a fellow introvert, you understand.

Now that I'm home and texting my husband about the shower and he has convinced me it's okay to let Violet cry in her bed a few minutes while I decompress, I realize something about my past. Most people don't know that when I was in college I took medicine for depression during the first two years. I went to a doctor my freshman year when I wasn't feeling well and he asked me a billion questions and determined that I didn't feel well because I was depressed. He gave me some meds and I took them for a while, then I started having panic attacks so I stopped taking them and switched to different meds, but continued to have panic attacks while in college (although strangely they seemed to stop not long after graduation). Sometime during those first two years I stopped taking the meds. I decided one day that I didn't need them and I quit. (I DO NOT recommend that ANYONE do this without consulting a doctor). I was perfectly fine and haven't taken them since then.

Looking back I don't think I had depression. I think I was overwhelmed by constantly being around so many people my age and it made me anxious and caused symptoms (which explains why the panic attacks stopped not long after graduation). I also think that my need to say no to spending time with friends and staying in bed holed up with a book away from others on occasion was a result of being an introvert, not signs that I was depressed. What's even more interesting to me is that as I progressed in my studies of my major (speech communication)- let's all laugh about that for a second- I became more and more aware of my personality and that I was an introvert and that knowledge along with the rest of what I was learning in my classes helped me learn to manage life so that I could survive without giving myself a nervous breakdown. This is my first time to ever look back and realize that all of my "symptoms" of depression were the same things that let me know I'm an introvert. I do believe that depression is a very real thing that some people struggle with, but I no longer believe that it is something I once struggled with.

Did you know that knowledge is a spiritual gift? I didn't. The above realization came through knowledge. God changed my life through that knowledge. It was a gift and it's one that continually changes me. I bring this up because I just got back the results from a spiritual gift survey I did and guess what gift I scored highest on? Yep: knowledge. I don't claim to know a lot, but I do believe that my understanding of the things I know is a gift from the Lord, and I'm thankful to have it pointed out.

Do you know your spiritual gifts? There are several lists in the Bible- here is one that I haven't read as much as the others.

1 Corinthians 12 (NIV)

12 Now about the gifts of the Spirit, brothers and sisters, I do not want you to be uninformed. ² You know that when you were pagans, somehow or other you were influenced and led astray to mute idols. ³ Therefore I want you to know that no one who is speaking by the Spirit of God says, “Jesus be cursed,” and no one can say, “Jesus is Lord,” except by the Holy Spirit.

⁴ There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. ⁵ There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. ⁶ There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work.
⁷ Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good. ⁸ To one there is given through the Spirit a message of wisdom, to another a message of knowledge by means of the same Spirit, ⁹ to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by that one Spirit, ¹⁰ to another miraculous powers, to another prophecy, to another distinguishing between spirits, to another speaking in different kinds of tongues,^[a] and to still another the interpretation of tongues.^{[b] 11} All these are the work of one and the same Spirit, and he distributes them to each one, just as he determines.

On this day

On this day one year ago I was in labor. I went to a normal OB appointment and didn't get to come home because despite being 3 weeks and 2 days before my due date, I was very much in labor and dilated past 4cm.

I haven't forgotten the pain. I remember how terrible I felt being pregnant. I was sick all of the time. Everything made me worse. I was put on bed rest because of early contractions and started dilating a full month before my child was due. I was completely miserable, and even worse than that, I was scared. I was scared that she wouldn't make it and that it would have all been for nothing. I was scared that I couldn't do it- that labor would be too much for me. And to be honest, I was scared that someday I would look back and regret having a child. I was afraid that it wasn't worth all that I had to go through. Being pregnant, having labor, having morning sickness, having a million tubes in me at the hospital, having my blood pressure taken so much my arms were bruised, and having someone cut through me with a knife and staple me shut- that was the worst pain I have ever been through. It was hell. Recovery was hell.

The thing is, even though I can't fathom worse pain and suffering than what I went through, I would do it again. Even with as vivid of a memory as I have of the worst of it, I still know that I WILL do it again someday. She's worth it. My little Violet is worth every single bit of suffering it took to bring her  into the world.

The more I think about my own beautiful child and her birth, the more I am forced to think of Jesus and how much more suffering He went through so that I could be reborn. The truth is that while the suffering I went through was the closest I know to Hell, it wasn't the real thing. I was never once separated from the Lord. I never had to know for a second what it was like to be without Him. When I was cut and bleeding and in pain I was able to cry out to God and know that He heard me. He heard me because of the suffering of Jesus. That's huge to me. He was broken and bleeding and went through it all just so that He could have a relationship with me. ME. This selfish, whiny, lazy woman who complains about the littlest things. He said I am worth all that He went through. Anyone else think that's some crazy love?

I don't know if I'm connecting the dots as well in words as they appear in my head, but what a picture! My child can be difficult and whiny and downright exhausting. Some days I get frustrated and I know that as she gets older the struggle will continue, but it's worth it. I love her so incredibly much. I would do anything to have a relationship with her. There is nothing she can ever do that would for a second diminish my love for her or longing to have a great relationship with her. After just one year with her, this great mystery of the love God has for me has become so much more clear because I feel that way for her. If I feel so strongly about my child and would be so willing to endure great pain and suffering for her, how much must Jesus love me?

Praise God. One year ago I tasted the punishment for sin, (Gen. 3:16  "To the woman he said, "I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children.") but praise the Lord I don't have to pay the full price. Thank you Jesus for taking that for me. Just as there is only one way for a baby to come out for life and that is through the mother, there was only one way for me to have eternal life and that was through Jesus.

Summer... oh Summer.

 Dear Spring,

I'm burnt out. I give up. You win. I agree that I've taken on too much stuff. Therefore, I'm doing what I do best and walking away from it all. Between the allergies, billion trips to the doctor to make sure it's really just allergies and not something contagious, and the five million excuses and apologies for not showing up because my kid's eyes are crusted together or I sound like I'm dying from emphysema, or we have to go back to the doctor, it's all just too much. I'm looking forward to summer. No more allergies, no more music class, bible study fellowship, MOPS, childcare for the other MOPS group, quilting class, or even MDO. That's right, this summer we are forgoing Mother's Day Out. Violet is big enough to play with other kids now, so I'm just going to set up play dates for her and we will take it easy this summer. I'm done with all of the "mommy" activities (for now). I will continue learning to sew from Pam as often as we can arrange to meet, but that's it. Everything else is on hiatus for summer because this momma just can't keep up. In the Fall I'm thinking the only thing we will be doing is bible study fellowship.I love all of the things we are doing right now, but I couldn't do them all at once for very long without losing my sanity. I hear I need a little bit of that if I want to raise a somewhat stable human being. So today, on the first official day of Spring (as if that even means anything in Texas where it's been Spring off and on for over a month), I give up.

I expected things to be different by now, but they're not really. I thought that by this point I would be a pro. I would have everything together with a schedule full of educational activities to make my baby smart, she would be running around, I would have lost a bunch weight chasing her, and I would have regained my energy and quick thinking from before I had Violet. None of that has happened. She doesn't even walk yet, I'm still fat, can barely keep up with what day of the week it is, and just started our first "educational activity" a few days ago. By the way, DK's "My First Words" touch and feel picture cards are awesome. Violet really gravitates to them. (Purchased on Amazon).

Yeah. As it turns out, I'm not quite the mom I thought I would be. All of my visions of my sweet baby playing in the room we went to so much trouble to paint and decorate were just dreams: we never play in her room. It's just a place where laundry baskets full of clothes that never get put away go to die.

That's okay. I am in the process of changing our busy life so that maybe this summer, we might actually spend the afternoon playing in her room. It could happen.Oh Summer. I'm ready.

Good Enough Mommy

I don't make any claims to being a great mom. Honestly, I'm not trying to be a great mom. I'm happy with good enough. Anyone who knows me at all, (or for that matter has read this blog at all) probably already knows that. I'm not a perfectionist and never have been.

 All I've ever tried to be is good enough. When I was younger that seemed like an impossible standard because I was judging good enough by what I perceived were others' expectations (which I don't believe we can ever really meet). Now, I take a much more reasonable approach. I aspire to good enough for me, and good enough for God. This is a big shift in priorities. First off, it's a huge load off my shoulders because there is no guess work involved. I know what I expect, and I know what God expects. Even better, I have Jesus standing for me in front of God. That gives me freedom. 

As far as meeting my own expectations, well, that part is awesome. It means I give myself permission to be who God created me to be. God created me to be at home. He created me to be a mom. He created me to cook and sew and take care of the grocery shopping and manage the household accounts and schedule.

Right now I'm learning a skill I've wanted for my entire life- the ability to sew. After years of desire,small gifts of experience along the way, and miraculously two sewing machines given to me, God has graciously placed in my life two very different ladies and both with the willingness to teach me. One is teaching me to quilt and the other is teaching me to sew clothes and mend them. I don't aspire to be a great seamstress or to use my skill for profit, I just want to be able to make the most of my family's wardrobe, create useful gifts for friends and family, and someday pass the skill on to my own children. I don't have to do things perfectly. Not every stitch has to be exactly right and if I mess up a little here or there, so long as it doesn't compromise the integrity of the garment, who cares? Not me. If you are looking at my baby's outfit close enough to notice my sewing imperfections, you are probably looking too close at my baby. I'm good with good enough.

I had intended to make this post completely different and write a controversial piece about "Easter" and my beliefs about how it's wrong to teach our children pagan customs. (If you research the origins of "Easter" you quickly find  that all sorts of familiar customs and even the name Easter have nothing to do with the resurrection and were later "Christianized"). While I would never defend the merging of one of the holiest Christian holidays with clearly pagan customs, I don't see reason in arguing the point either. While the customs were pagan, no one to my knowledge is still worshiping the goddess of fertility that Easter celebrates, or at least they aren't around here- which means that the holiday is no longer glorifying that pagan god. So the real issue isn't the origins of the traditions of the holiday, but rather how we glorify God in all that we do.

That is where good enough isn't good enough. I can let a lot of things slide in life. My home can be good enough, my food can taste good enough, my skills can be good enough, but our lives cannot merely be good enough. I can't "Christianize" the customs of the world and call it good enough. We have to be different. My little Violet must stand out because she was called to live a life "set apart." If I'm going to be a good enough mom, I have to train her to live like she doesn't belong here.What is the difference between the basketful of chocolate crosses and the basketful of chocolate bunnies? None. Let's not kid ourselves. Will my child decorate eggs? Will she participate in an egg hunt? I don't know yet. I can guarantee if she does, it won't be on resurrection Sunday, and it will be for a purpose that glorifies God.

For me, good enough is when we listen to the Holy Spirit's convictions and live accordingly.  I choose to live intentionally and with conviction. Good enough is not compromising God's standards of holiness, but rather compromising my standards of mediocrity and rising to be set apart according to His calling.

To Know and Follow Hard After You

I was privileged to have a high school experience unlike any other. I came out with an excellent education, a decent amount of confidence, a great spiritual foundation, and one very good friend. Despite this, I would not, if given the chance, want to relive any of my high school years. (I would, however, like a video recording of all my history classes with Mrs.Allen- those videos would be worth more than their weight in gold).

I was even more privileged to attend a university where I found unexpected friends, mentors, and a whole side of myself that I think I had refused to believe existed before because it didn't fit the expectations of my culture.When I embraced this side of myself, I lost part of the old me. Some of the old me needed to be cast off because it wasn't genuine, but part of it was good and that's the part I'm now hoping to regain.

I don't think about my past often. (Or at least I don't anymore). I've made peace with the bad parts, accepted the good parts, and moved on. I have been happily living in the present and looking to the future for the past few years. What has me on this nostalgia train is music.

I've loved music since the day I was born. When I became a christian and my family started going to church regularly, I found great joy in the worship music of that time (starting in 1998). I learned about the great lengths of the love of God from Third Day's "Love Song." I was humbled by "We Fall Down"-( which is also the only song I ever learned to play on the guitar). I remember getting to church early and standing in a dark, empty auditorium singing to the Lord. I was always singing. In praise band, ensemble, and youth choir at church, and then in praise band and choir at school (not to mention at the top of my lungs in the car, humming down the hallways, and in my room with the headphones on).

When I went to college I still listened to music a lot, but I stopped singing as much. Then, when I graduated and got married, I almost stopped listening and singing altogether. The past five years have been the only five of my life void of music.

But, recently that has changed. Since coming back to Longview and finding Oakland Heights, I  feel like a slow fire has been building, reigniting my passion for the Lord and at the same time, for music.

How does all of this tie together? This slowly building fire reminds me of the passion I had when I was younger (particularly in high school). I don't want to go back to high school, but I do want the fire back. I've spent the last several hours listening to the same worship music I did in high school. I miss the music. I miss the worship within the music. I miss the boldness I had then (well, it was bold for ME). I mean, I stood on a stage to sing to the Lord. ME. I did that. That doesn't sound at all like me now, but I want it to.

Give me one pure and holy passion
Be my magnificent obsession
Give me one glorious ambition for my life
To know and follow hard after You

To know and follow hard after You
To grow as Your disciple in Your truth
This world is empty, pale and poor
Compared to knowing You my Lord
Lead me on, and I will run after You

Real Life Mommy

I feel like I'm finally getting into the swing of this whole mommy thing.

My child is old enough to make a giant mess at every meal, warrant a bath every day (sometimes more than one a day), I'm too busy to actually bathe her every day, she is fascinated with dropping things, screaming, and dumping out everything. Violet has acquired the ability to make a nice neat stack of toys a giant mess is less than five minutes, and immediately afterwards completely loses interest in her toys, and instead starts examining the floor for dirt and trash (which is always abundant). She does most of this while smiling, babbling, giggling, and making my heart melt.

This is the mommy life I read about. What's funny is that as exhausting as it can be, it's SOOO GOOD. I know my floor is dirty (even though I scrubbed it on hands and knees a few days ago). I know the laundry is piled up on the couch. Even though we do at least one load a day, we only catch up all the dishes about once a week. The "dining" table is inevitably the place we pile books and sewing stuff, and the bathroom floor still has last week's mail on it. (Because who hasn't gone out to check the mail only to realize they had to use the bathroom RIGHT THEN, and proceeded to read the mail on the toilet? This is real life people.)

 I LOVE taking her to grocery store. Sure, she gets bored after a while and wants to be held, and plays with my keys and drops them a thousand times, but she also gets excited when a stranger smiles back at her and smiles when I show her different fruits and vegetables as I put them in the cart. She babbles at me as I tell her about what I'm buying and what we will make with it. Someday she is going to be my favorite shopping partner. I know, because every time I take her with me (along with the inconvenience), I show her that I care about her. I show her that shopping is a special time to talk to mommy. I show her that it can be fun, rewarding, and economical :) I could choose to shop when I wouldn't need to take her with me, but most of the time I don't.

 Real life as a mommy has required some adjustments to my parenting ideas. I've thrown out so many of the things I've said I would never do. I've embraced the season that we are in and whatever makes that season more enjoyable. So that means she isn't in cloth diapers everyday (although we do still use them regularly), we eat cereal puffs from the can, we adore anything that can be picked up with little fingers that isn't messy, and we like the idea of applesauce in a squeezable pouch. It means that we don't always read a story before bed, she doesn't always wear pajamas, and at home, she doesn't always even wear pants.

Real life mommy holds to only one real belief as far as parenting goes and that is to train my child in the way that she should go. Not train her one way, then train her another way, then another. Our life is messy and imperfect, and that's okay. She goes where we go. She eats what we eat. She starts out how we want her to continue on.

It's a beautiful mess.

Don't wait 5 months to fill in your kid's baby book

Yeah...
So tonight I'm doing something I should have been doing all along: writing in Violet's baby book. As it turns out, she is almost ten months old, and I haven't written in it since she was three months! Luckily with social media and dates on pictures (plus my lovely little blog here), it's not that hard to piece together what happened when and fill in the blanks.

It's been a nice little jog down memory lane. I have a hard time digesting just how much she has changed from this little "thing" to a sweet little girl who has personality and likes and dislikes. Four months ago it was a big deal that we could sit her up, and she could stay that way without any help. Today she started trying to let go and stand without holding on to anything. I realized about a week ago that I probably need to start thinking about what we're going to do for her first birthday party. Yikes!

Some days I think it's all happening too fast, and I long for the little baby who just wanted to be held and sleep in my arms. I feel like I let that time slip away some, wishing for her to be more like she is now. Tonight as I remember each stage and little milestone she has made, I am seeing better how each stage has its precious moments that need to be embraced. I hope that I get better at writing in Violet's baby book, but if not, I hope at least that I can learn to slow down and not wish for what is behind or ahead, but instead enjoy the moment we're in.