Reality: Life Worth Saving

I get pretty tired of reading prolife arguments that go something like this...

What would have happened if President Obama's mother would have chosen abortion?
What would have happened if this world renowned scientist's mother would have chosen abortion?
What would have happened if [insert adult who someone thinks is awesome]'s mother would have chosen abortion?

I get it.  People grow up and do things that others appreciate.  People grow up and become the first black presidents.  People grow up and cure diseases.  People grow up to do things we can't imagine our lives without.

But some people don't grow up.
Some people die young.
Some people will never do anything worthy of a news release.
Some people will depend on others for everything their whole earthly life.

Life is not just worth saving because of what it can do for you later.  Life is worth saving because of what it is.

Reality: SURVIVOR Home Edition

It really has to stop.  I have to stop living in survival mode.

The saying goes that the days are LONG and the years are short.

A good majority of the time I feel like the MINUTES are long.  I go through my day from one activity to another, and most of the time I start the activity with the goal of just getting it done.  This line of thinking is a detriment to my children.  I don't want to be like the crazy lady at the grocery store who says, "Oh, Honey, savor EVERY moment, because it is amazing."  Every moment is not amazing.  Actually, most WHOLE days are not amazing.

But I do need to savor a little more.

Spend a little extra time letting the boys figure out their scissors by themselves.  Let them spend 13 minutes trying to button their own pants.  Survivor mode puts me on edge, and every minute seems like an eternity.  That means that potty trips with a new potty trainer can seem like six eternities.

I told my husband that I have to stop living life just surviving between times that he comes home.

OK, he left for work...survive until lunch.
OK, he left after lunch...survive until dinner.
OK, he left after dinner...survive until bedtime.

He responded that he feels that way sometimes "out there" too.  "Just survive until I get home again."  It reminded me that this is not a new feeling.  I felt this way when working - survive until I see my husband and kids again.

And even though I felt something like it before, that line of thinking really does have to stop.  I am not on some reality TV show surviving in a foreign land known as my home (even though it may feel like it sometimes - complete with close encounters with various strange bugs my boys bring inside).

I make this home.
I am a homemaker.

I don't want the home I make to be one of survival.
I want it to be one of patience, of kindness, of love, of generosity, of courage, of warmth.

But I also want it to be one of honesty and reality...

Sometimes that means survival.

Reality: It's not OK.

People say you grow into motherhood as you go and grow into the number of children you have as you add them.  Such is true for me.

I remember when Solomon was six weeks old.  My husband turned to me one night and said, "Can you believe we have kept him alive this long?"  He wasn't kidding.  And I didn't take it as a joke.  I couldn't believe it either.  We actually managed to get ourselves together enough to sustain a human being's life for six weeks.  It felt pretty good.

I laugh at that story now - three years and two more babies later.  Can you believe we have kept three alive this long?  Wow!

It makes me think about the mother I always wanted to be...
The one I am so far from becoming.

When I talk about my failures as a mother, the majority of people say, "It's OK.  That happens to all of us.  You are so busy with three.  You are only human."  There is the problem.  I am human, stuck in this human condition.  But in no way does that make my failures "OK."

They are anything but OK.
Being OK means they are acceptable.

It is not OK that I yell at my children.
It is not OK that I choose my phone over my children.
It is not OK that I prefer their naptime to their awake time.

Those things are normal.  They are not, however, OK.  They are not acceptable.

As I am growing into motherhood, I am learning more and more about my failures.  I am learning how to fail openly and repent gracefully.  I am learning how to guard my own tongue as much as I guard their little ears and eyes.  I am learning to avoid saying, "It's ok," to other mothers, and instead replace it with, "You are forgiven."

As I struggle each day keeping three human beings alive, I am reminded that growing into motherhood is a lifelong journey.  These failures of mine will continue.  I don't fear that, because I know where my Peace rests.  It rests in my forgiveness.

Reality: Vocation Woes

There are articles upon articles written about how hard it is to be a pastor's family.  And while I fully admit the difficulties, I am put off by the tone and expressions used to convey them.  Being a pastor's family is the best vocation on this side of eternity.  There are struggles, there are crosses to bear, there are days and weeks (and probably months, if I am being honest) that make it hard to admit how great we have it, but the truth is, there is not a single better way to spend your life than to watch your husband give God's Gifts to those whom you love.

To all my fellow pastors' families, this is not written to make you think you have it easy.  I am quite aware of how hard it can be sometimes.  I am aware of the uncertainty.  I am aware of the loneliness.  I am aware of the moments you watch your husbands bear more burdens than one man can handle.  I am aware of the stereotypes and expectations.  I am aware of the hurtful statements that can be said (in total innocence or in total defiance).  I am aware.  And I know you are too.  It is hard.  Sometimes it is harder than others.  

I recently had a conversation with a grown-up pastor's kid.  She flippantly told my husband and I about how her co-workers are trying to get her to enjoy the holidays because, "Well, I was a pastor's kid and that time of the year...well, I just saw how crazy my parents got and how ridiculous it was for him...It was just too much.  I just don't like this time of the year."  

Wow, dagger to the heart of every pastor/dad and mom/pastor's wife who ever lived.  

But, wow, what a reminder for me.  

The way I talk about my vocation matters.

The way I live out my vocation in front of others matters.

The way I think about my vocation matters.

Maybe this is a lot of Law.

I don't know about you, but sometimes I need to hear a lot of Law. 

All the times I speak viciously about our God-given vocations...

All the times I live in a way that shows others how much I can despise our God-given vocations...

All the times I think poorly about our God-given vocations...

All those have already been forgiven.  

So, now, I go in peace this holiday season - living as one who is forgiven.  

May that be how I think and speak about my vocation.

May that be what my children remember about the holiday season.  

May that be how they live out their holiday seasons this side of eternity.

Reality: Children Need Fathers

1.  My children need to see a man royally screw up AND then watch him humble himself by apologizing and repenting.  They need to see a man live as one who is forgiven.

2.  My children need to fall and scratch their knees.  They need to get hurt.  They need to be cuddled by the strong embracing arms of a man who will bend down and kiss that knee as many times as it takes to heal it.

3.  My children need strong discipline.  They need to hear the firm command of their father.  They need to disobey, apologize, and hear their father's forgiving voice.

4.  My children need to see a man read his Bible, receive Christ's Gifts in church, and pray (more than just before he eats).  They need to know it is possible to be manly and humble.

5.  My children need to see a man love a woman like Christ loves the Church.  They need to see him sacrifice.  They need to watch him put his needs below the needs of his bride. My children need stability.  They need leadership.  They need a head of household.  They need to watch their mother honor their father.  They need to see a healthy marriage built by God.

6.  My children need to watch their father and mother kiss, hold hands, hug, and show affection.  They need to learn that sexuality is beautiful when it is between husband and wife.  They need to see what joy awaits them in marriage.

7.  My children need a protector.  They need a safety net.  They need an un-emotional ear to listen. 

When my husband proposed seven years ago, he gave me seven gifts each representing completion.  

As a married couple, we complete each other.  

As parents, we do the same.  

My children need their father.  

All children need fathers.

Fathers complete mothers.

Thank you for completing me, my love.  

Reality: Why I don't go to the bathroom.

This morning my husband scolded me (sarcasm) for saying that I don't have time to go to the bathroom during the day.  We often talk about this conundrum.  My usual response is, "Don't you think I would go...if I could!"

So, why don't I go to the bathroom?

Here is how it usually goes -

My thought:  Oh, I have to pee...wait, new potty trainer hasn't gone in awhile...have to take him.

Upon finding said potty trainer, he is having an accident.

My thought:  AHHHH!  One minute too late!  Off to the bathroom we go.  Note to self, remember to clean up pee.  Note to self, remember to go to the bathroom while you are in there.

New potty trainer completes bathroom trip, and baby starts screaming.  I finish potty trainer up quickly, and dash out to get baby. 

My thought:  Rats, I forgot to go.  Go now.  Take the baby.  It will be fine.  Don't forget to clean up that pee.

About this time, I hear a fight break out in the living room between two toddler boys.

Them:  Mine.  NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!  WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Mine.

My thought:  Just go pee.  Ignore them........no, go stop them.  Better to catch them now than when they have started hitting.

As the two toddlers are passing out apologies and hugs, I take a dash toward the bathroom with baby in hand.  Then, she spits up.  Not just a little.

My thought:  OK, grab new clothes for me.  While I am changing, I will pee.  For real this time.  Then I have to clean up that pee from earlier.

As I am reaching in my drawer, I hear someone slip and fall.  WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!  Yes, a toddler did just wipe out in that spot of pee. 

My thought:  I am such a terrible mother.  I should have cleaned up that pee earlier.  This is my fault.  Poor baby.

Snuggles for the toddler.  Baths for everyone.  We all have pee on us now. 

So, you might be thinking, "Of course she went pee while she was in the bathroom giving baths, right?" 

.......................................

Not so much.  I forgot I had to go.  Have you ever tried to bathe a 3 year old, a 2 year old, and a 3 month old?  Let's just say that there was a lot of peeing going on, but it wasn't me.

I just spent 15 minutes writing this blog post.  I should have gone pee.

Reality: Somebody Vs. Everything

Let me tell you a story.  I used to be somebody.  I don't mean to toot my own horn (in reality, I do), but I was good at what I did.  I was really good at it.  Out in the workforce, there are accolades to gain, plaques to be given, stories to be written in the news, congratulations thrown about for achievements -   it is a pretty "pat yourself on the back" kind of world out there, and it feels good.  And in that world, I was somebody to a lot of people. 

Then I decided to stay home with our kids.

As a stay-at-home mom, you choose to lose your identity (or at least that is the choice I made).  I became, "(insert child's name here)'s mom." You choose to give up the chance of accolades, plaques, news articles, and congratulations.  You choose to give up being a somebody.

In exchange for being a somebody to those out there, you become an everything to those in here.

There is a huge amount of responsibility that comes with being somebody's everything.  When you are an everything, your strengths and mostly your failures shine brighter.  They are reflected in the eyes of those who see you as everything.

When I was a somebody, I did it well.  But...

For every judicial meeting I conducted, another somebody out there could have done it. 

For every handbook I wrote, another somebody could have written it. 

For every meeting I conducted, another somebody could have ran it.

Sure, maybe they wouldn't have done it as marvelously as I did (sarcasm), but they could have done it.  They could have earned the accolades, the plaques, the news stories, and the congratulations.

When you are an everything, you are irreplaceable. 

That is why I chose to stay home with my kids.  That is why I chose to give up being a somebody. 

The world out there has so many shiny things.  It is enticing.  It is delicious.  In my little world, where I am everything there are no shiny things (besides the dishes I so marvelously cleaned).  It is intimate.  It is long-lasting.  It is home. 

Someday, maybe my children will be somebodies. 

Someday, I hope my children will be somebody's everything.