Sanity - one step at a time

I just read a post from "A Holy Experience," a site I enjoy but which I am unable to keep up with on any routine basis . . . Ann Voskamp is a prolific writer, which is not a bad thing, but I find it can be overwhelming to be quite honest.  The post was on keeping our sanity in the New Year and was written posted January 24, 2013.  If you want to read the whole thing, it's entitled 25 Point Manifesto for Sanity in 2013.  My reactions were generally good, but I thought that doing all 25 each day would kill me - not a good way to find sanity.  But her ideas are, as usual, excellent, and would indeed help keep perspective, and sanity.  Here are several I was particularly struck by (only shared in brief here - you'll have to click on the link to read the details).

2. “What a heart knows by heart is what a heart knows”
5. Step on the Snake Before Breakfast
6. Stay in the pool
8. Go Slow. Life Zone. 
10. No songs without rhythm
16. Work on your Wall before Noon
18. Consistently be Consistent
20. Do the Holy, Happiness Habit

The ones that struck me most were #s2, 6, and 16, probably because of where I'm at right at this moment in particular. Next month, I would probably find other ones standing out.  And my "strategy" for sanity probably starts with one not even on this list:  7. Clean a space = clear headspace.  I get to a point where I can't even think if there's too much stuff piled up (our threshold is actually far too high for sanity, so when I get to this point, it's REALLY bad...).  I was there last weekend and it's better, but still there and bothering me.  I need to step on that snake and work on that wall, seriously, and then my head will be doing SO much better.  

Anyway, the point of all this musing and sharing is that there are things here that could or do help me keep my head above water, and maybe you'll find some of them encouraging or helpful.  While I find her posts - like this one - overwhelming, when I take that step back to consider what she's saying (as I try to stop reeling), I know she's not giving me, or anyone, a to do list, or condeming me for not following her advice.  She's simply sharing her journey and what's helped her.  She's not trying to tell me what to do.  And even if she was, I don't need to.  Part of maturity is hearing the message a person is trying to share, and another part is knowing what to do with it, regardless of their intention.  What I like most about Ann's posts in general, is her understanding of God's grace and that while we do live our faith in ways that result in good works, it's not fundamentally about acheivement, but about life and trust and grace and a God who's so much greater than we can imagine.  Ann is not trying to lay a guilt trip on me.  Yay.  So don't let me hear that message.  And frankly, I know that trying to do too much - make too many changes at once, etc - generally leads to failure, at least for me.  So what I can take away from her post this time is that she has some great ideas to share for how to maintain sanity in the new year.  They're all pretty good.  Now if I want to think about several of them in particular and mull over them, that would probably help me as I think through my own time and what is realistic.  And if I actually want to implement one or two, now that is doable, and could truly help me maintain some sanity.  And knowing that's all ok - that is that I don't have to do them all - is part of learning about my journey as a mom, as a wife, and as a believer.  And, as my husband would say,  it's not right and wrong, and it is truly all about grace.  

The Great Fixer

I loved this article by a woman I have yet to meet and who I hope someday to meet in person (tho' that may be as unlikely as me someday taking all my kids to Europe - still, I can say I'd like and hope to!).

It's an article about fixing things, entitled Fix You.  Do read it in its entirety! Here's how it concludes and then where I think it necessarily leads us.

Parenting is a relationship, and it occurs to me that all relationships — at least the real, meaningful ones — ARE essentially about having the same conversation over and over again. And that conversation boils down to the soul-cry: Why can’t you love me the way I want to be loved? We’re all waiting on the Fix-It Pile with our broken hearts, and sometimes a parent or friend or spouse will paste us together for a time. Sometimes we gather the tools and strength to repair our own cracks. But in my experience there’s never a permanent fix — not in this life, at least. We keep breaking, and having the same conversations over and over again. I’m unaware of a single person who’s made it to the end of their life, and who couldn’t have used another dab of glue or piece of tape.

I don’t mean this to sound completely hopeless, because I think it’s the opposite. I think it’s liberating. There are fairy figurines in this house whose wings I will NEVER permanently affix to their bodies; there are cracks in my children that I can NEVER mend. But in parenting, as with the rest of life, I think we get points for trying. And trying again.

I don't think we get points - God is not interested in our works in that way.  We don't earn anything.  But I do agree this account of our brokenness is not hopeless, but full of hope.  We have a God who has promised to care for us, and to rescue us.  We are all broken and we do all need fixing.  And our very maker can and will do it.  In fact, he has already done it.  In providing Jesus as our savior, he has given us the way back to him, to restore our broken relationship first w/him and then w/others.  This is the message of the Bible, from start to finish.  We're broken, and he can and will fix it, if we in faith trust in him!  A fix for sin, grace for the weary, peace for the broken-hearted, and hope that does not disappoint.

Parenting

I know that being a parent is a lot of work.  I am no "expert," unless 14+ years of experience automatically makes one expert.  I have learned a lot from watching, doing, asking, reading, experimenting, praying, and failing plenty.  I love being a parent, and I'm in for the long haul, whether I like it or not, whether I want it or not, and I know, I KNOW, that it doesn't end even when they leave home.  It's a constantly evolving process.  It's rewarding, exhausting, stretching, and painful, all at the same time (and more I'm sure).  But I am thankful for the process it is working in ME.  Parenting is a tool God is using to work in MY life.  It's refining.  I sometimes wish I could take a vacation from it, but I doubt I'd enjoy it, seeing as I like my kids (yes, like, not just love), and I'd frankly miss them within minutes of starting on such a vacation.  And I'd want to check on them and know how they're doing, hear about their day, help with their "problems" or simply hear them chatter about whatever is on their mind.  And this is grace, that as much angst as it all may bring with it, as hard as it may be, it is worth it, and I love being a parent. 

And btw, click on the link here (Parenting: It's never an interruption) for a great perspective - very good to keep in mind, especially when the slogging is particularly wearisome.  I needed to read it today.

Grief and grace

I just read an article (a good one at that, on autism), that made me think of how grateful I am for my own "village".  The author included a paragraph about her emotions and reaction to her son's diagnosis, that made me stop and think and wish to post here, something I haven't had much opportunity to do lately, but this merited the time and gave good material for me to ponder, and share.  To begin, here is the paragraph about which I am writing.

It might have been that night, or some other night, that I got down on my knees beside my beautiful sleeping son and wept. I also prayed. It’s embarrassing for me, aggressive atheist that I am, to acknowledge it now. I probably begged that it not be true. Or maybe I asked for a cure, or for strength. Or just help. I don’t believe those prayers were answered by a deity, but the image of me on my knees, praying to no one of my acquaintance, is an evocative memory of how alone we were back then: me, my husband and my son with only Dustin Hoffman for guidance. Maybe I was putting in a call to the village that I did not yet know existed.

Indeed, when things do not go as planned, when our children suffer, when circumstances are out of our control, when the "worst" happens, when a loved one - especially a child - is diagnosed with a disease or condition or disorder or the like, especially one which has no "cure", we do indeed feel alone.  I know this loneliness, oh yes, indeed I do.  It's agonizing.  And we are all - even the atheist - reduced to our knees.  We are helpless.  Really, indeed, who do we think we are?  

I grieve for this woman and her situation.  I grieve for my own.  I grieve for our frailty and our helplessness.  I do not judge her or anyone else.  I am and have been so like her.  And I am thankful "for the village".  I love my village.  I am so glad she has a village.  Indeed we are not alone. So why my post?  What "more" needs to be said? 

I must post of God and His grace, especially to me.  He is so amazing to not leave us alone.  What strikes me here is that even though she does not recognize His power, or even His answer to her prayers, He has still answered.  She is blind to the very one who gives her life, to the one who created this child in His own image, autism and all.  Mine too (only diabetes, migraines and the like, not autism).  And she is free to be blind, to see the village without seeing the one who gave her this village.  I love this God with all my heart, and I grieve that she does not see Him.  Matthew 5:45 speaks clearly of the Father (God) who "causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous."   May He get the glory for it all - for the circumstances that (sometimes) drive us to our knees, even when we don't believe He exists or can answer even if He does exist, or whatever the permutation of unbelief might be.  We are still reduced to begging and weeping because we are so incredibly needy.  And may He be just and glorified when He doesn't save all those who've rejected Him, despite His incredible grace and provision.  And may we who see and know Him, be thankful that He for no reason at all - at least none we know of - saved us, though we were too were once just like her.  Blind.  Even agressively atheists.  Me, I was plugging my ears with my fingers, closing my eyes, and singing  "la la la la la  - I can't hear you!  I don't see you!  You're not there! - la la la la la...." loudly at the top of my lungs and ... well... He figuratively whopped me upside the head, pried my eyes open, pulled my hands out of my ears and made me see and hear Him.  Stubborn girl I am.  I never would have stopped on my own. I too would have denied Him.  

Thank you, dear God who answers in the form of the village and who reminds me daily of my desperate need for you, of how blind I still am often without your grace and help, and how wonderful you are.  I love the village, for it helps me see you in all your glory.  The village is your hands and a tool in my life that you wield to accomplish your work.  And thank you to the author of this article for being part of my world-wide internet village and part of how God's working in me.

Thankfulness

I think I see a need in myself to deliberately choose to be thankful. The Bible has much to say on the subject (see this compilation of verses I found online, including ones that appear to have nothing to with thankfulness!).

One that has always struck me is Colossians 3:15 And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful.

I think I sometimes confuse my being thankful with things going well - that is, that thankfulness is based somehow on my circumstances. When I reflect on this verse, and others like it, I find that thankfulness is something I'm to do - and be - regardless of my circumstances. It's a choice. And interestingly, the ability to be thankful in all circumstances is rooted in what I believe about God. Is He good? Is He trustworthy? Am I really "confident .... that He who began a good work in [me] will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus?" (Philippians 1:6) Do I trust Him? Is He sovereign, that is, is He really in control of my circumstances, and all that happens in this world?

I began this post months ago (end of March) and in the midst of seemingly endless low-grade illness across the entire family.  As I get back to it now, in the midst of a hundred and one activities (baseball, school ending, summer decisions, even fall decisions, yardwork and getting the garden in - and yes, more illness), it resonates just as much.  I think that's because it really is pertinent to my every day.  What do I believe?  And the answer to that determines my attitude and perspective on who I am and about every thing I do.

I do believe that God is good and that all that happens and all that I'm involved in has purpose - to glorify him.  Even as he molds and makes me into his image, it's for his glory.  Even when I fail, it's to his glory (it shows who he is in contrast to who I am - and boy does he look good!).  When he picks me up and dusts me off, he is glorified.  Amazing isn't it?  And boy do I need him (I fall so much!).   It's about the grace of a loving Father for His cherished child.  I like being cherished, and I like that He's working in me and won't give up.  Thankful I am indeed.  Now back to all those to-dos....   :-)

Preserving a Husband (A quote - not mine - but I loved it)

Preserving a Husband
Author Unknown

First, use care in selection. Not too young, but tender and with potential for growth. Choose one that will last a lifetime. Like fine wine, he should improve with age. Do not put in hot water. This will remove the sweetness and destroys the natural flavor.

Prepare as follows:

• Saturate with love and compassion.
• Sprinkle with a generous amount of laughter and good humor.
• Spice with patience.
• Wrap well in a mantle of charity.

Preserve over a good fire of steady devotion.
Serve with peaches and cream.

The poorest varieties may be improved by this process and kept indefinitely in any climate.

The "right" question

I was just watching something that made me think I'm asking the "wrong" question. Frankly, it's not so much about the "right" or "wrong"-ness of the question, but what it shows about my thinking in general when it comes to God.

The "wrong" question is "How can I be more Christ-like?" We want to be like him. Being like him is indeed a good thing. But that's not the point. What I realized (and what is "wrong") is that it focuses on me - it's self-centered - and it also presumes I have any ability to make it happen. The point is I want to be Christ-like. I can think of a thousand reasons why, and I can see how unChristlike those reasons are! God does not ask us to be Christlike. That is NOT to be our focus, nor can we do it of our own accord. That is why it is the "wrong" question.

He made me and He has indeed set a standard of behavior, etc. But He is the one who works in me to enable me to meet that standard. And when I don't, He redeems my mess, each and every time. I am not to wallow in my failure - I'm to "wallow" in His grace. My focus is to be on HIM, not on me: on HIS grace and goodness and perfection and love and mercy and power, not on my efforts, my behavior, my successes or failures or anything else.

So rather than ask how I can be more like Him, let me rather ask how I can honor and glorify and thank Him for who He is and what He's done. Let me ask that question first, and let all others pale in comparison to knowing and loving and focusing on Him.