Hello from Lake Chelan, Washington! We have been SO blessed to receive this week-long getaway at a gorgeous lake-side condo for FREE because a family member couldn't use it. Danny had a week of vacation that was going to disappear in January, but being low on cash this holiday season we weren't planning to use it... and yet, here we are, showered in God's abundant love yet again.
Because of that low on cash thing, and also because our lives have been certifiably crazy for the last four months, we've elected to spend most of this week indoors with coffee and blankets, working on the hobbies that have fallen by the wayside in the midst of bringing up baby. For me this (of course) means writing... what does that word mean again? Oh, right. It means arranging words in the form of sentences, which then make paragraphs, which then make chapters of the novella I'm supposed to be writing for the final class in my certificate.
And here it is that I find myself coming head-to-head with the things I hate about myself. First of all, I'm realizing that for all the scheduling and to-do list making that I do at home, I am NOT a scheduled person. I like to make a schedule just to see how much I could, potentially, get done in a day- in other words, to map out the possibilities. I usually have no intention of keeping that schedule, and if the muse hits or a friend calls or Katara is being particularly cute, that schedule goes out the window without a second thought. Do I end up disappointed in myself? Usually. But only at the end of the day, looking back, when I realize I have yet again failed to hold myself to the standards I set. During the day, I am perfectly, undeniably content to drift from whim to whim, diving nose-first into projects and planning for the future which will, of course, go nothing like my plans.
It's the possibilities that are exciting, not the realization of them.
Anyway, self-analyzation aside, I do love to have everything all taken care of an all my ducks in a row- blog updated, facebook checked, emails replied to and properly filed into folders, baby fed, changed, bathed, and sleeping, lunch simmering on the stove- these are the moments when I feel high on life and finally, finally ready to sit down to the business of doing what I was supposedly born to do- writing. But then of course what always happens is the baby wakes up, the soup overflows, or a new email comes in- and I am whisked off again in the process of homemaking and mothering. I'm always kind of relieved, because starting to write is such a daunting thing- which makes it very clear that what I was really born to do was be a wife, homemaker, and mother, even though this is somehow hard for me to admit.
Ah well. The point is, life is very good, and I have much to be thankful for. Also much to learn- but I have the feeling that while I'm in the middle of scrambling and dreaming and scheming and planning the way I want my life to be, real life will take over and when I look back on it at the end of eighty years, I won't be disappointed.
Monday, November 18, 2013
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Walking and Talking
Here it is, very late at night (my alarm will be going off in just over three hours), and everyone in the house is sleeping (Max included) except me. Why? Not for any reason except that I was hungry and needed to unwind a bit before sleep found me after a night out with friends. So what did I spend this valuable time doing? Praying? Reading my Bible? Contemplating God's goodness to me this day?
Nope. I spent it on facebook.
So it is that I find myself discouraged, as it comes high time to turn out the lights. How is it that I can go about my day so completely ignorant to the fact that God is guiding my every step and sustaining my every breath? And more importantly, He is sovereign over the general patterns of my life, large and small- the ones that lead me to prosperity and joy and the ones that send me scuttling back to Him with my tail between my legs. And yet I live as though He does not exist, day in and day out. I think about what I want for my daughter, and too often salvation finds it's self too far down on the list. This reflects my total misunderstanding of the spiritual realm, placing it on a level with make-believe worlds that we may or may not one day find to be real.
I don't want to live like it's not real anymore.
Dr. Taccit always says that if we really believed what we believed was really real, it would change the way we lived. This is the heart of the issue. I know that God exists and that He is good and that He loves me, but some part of me is able to dismiss these vital truths as though they were secondary to the realities of flesh and blood, time and money which rule this world of dust. Why is that? Not enough time spent in the Word, not enough time spent in prayer, and a failure to engage in public worship must be among the answers.
Oh God, grant me the grace to change.
Help me to cling to You above all else, to know your presence at all times, and to seek to know You better with each passing day. Help me to remember that mediocre Christianity is not true Christianity- that You want all of me, not some unused part that can be spared for devotions each morning and church on Sunday. Guide me to those events in life that would cause me to need You more, and give me the strength to resist those unnecessary distractions that make this world seem so all-consuming!
And most of all, direct my gaze to the Cross.
How strange to think that there was a time in this world when Christ dwelt among us, and a place in this world where his feet have walked. A hill where heavy drops of his blood fell to the ground. A place where sin was once and for all given a retribution, and the veil of the temple was torn in two so that we might enter that most holy of holies. That's what this really all comes down to- because His blood was shed, the blood of the goats and sacrificial lambs no longer have to be. And if we have been given such glorious entrance into God's very presence, without the shelter of a veil in-between, then there is only one question remaining.
Why don't we drink from the endless droughts of this glorious privilege every day, every hour, and every minute that we live?
Nope. I spent it on facebook.
So it is that I find myself discouraged, as it comes high time to turn out the lights. How is it that I can go about my day so completely ignorant to the fact that God is guiding my every step and sustaining my every breath? And more importantly, He is sovereign over the general patterns of my life, large and small- the ones that lead me to prosperity and joy and the ones that send me scuttling back to Him with my tail between my legs. And yet I live as though He does not exist, day in and day out. I think about what I want for my daughter, and too often salvation finds it's self too far down on the list. This reflects my total misunderstanding of the spiritual realm, placing it on a level with make-believe worlds that we may or may not one day find to be real.
I don't want to live like it's not real anymore.
Dr. Taccit always says that if we really believed what we believed was really real, it would change the way we lived. This is the heart of the issue. I know that God exists and that He is good and that He loves me, but some part of me is able to dismiss these vital truths as though they were secondary to the realities of flesh and blood, time and money which rule this world of dust. Why is that? Not enough time spent in the Word, not enough time spent in prayer, and a failure to engage in public worship must be among the answers.
Oh God, grant me the grace to change.
Help me to cling to You above all else, to know your presence at all times, and to seek to know You better with each passing day. Help me to remember that mediocre Christianity is not true Christianity- that You want all of me, not some unused part that can be spared for devotions each morning and church on Sunday. Guide me to those events in life that would cause me to need You more, and give me the strength to resist those unnecessary distractions that make this world seem so all-consuming!
And most of all, direct my gaze to the Cross.
How strange to think that there was a time in this world when Christ dwelt among us, and a place in this world where his feet have walked. A hill where heavy drops of his blood fell to the ground. A place where sin was once and for all given a retribution, and the veil of the temple was torn in two so that we might enter that most holy of holies. That's what this really all comes down to- because His blood was shed, the blood of the goats and sacrificial lambs no longer have to be. And if we have been given such glorious entrance into God's very presence, without the shelter of a veil in-between, then there is only one question remaining.
Why don't we drink from the endless droughts of this glorious privilege every day, every hour, and every minute that we live?
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Flesh
I just sat down here to write out the time requirements of a so-called "perfect" day. I would like an hour to write, an hour for devotions, a couple hours with my husband… and before I could get very far into the list I was struck by the pure selfishness of what I was doing, not to mention ungodliness. Sure, time management is important, but for me I think it has become a way of defying God's will for my life, struggling over and over to make things fit in a way they just aren't meant to be. Realizing that I don't have time for certain things at this point has been hard, and my selfishness is astounding. But maybe I would be better off if I just let go of my agenda and left each day open to whatever God brings, determined to work with all diligence using whatever hours He does choose to give me.
It is easy enough to recognize the providential hand when it comes in the form of calls to the mission field or opportunities to help those in distress here in America. When Danny got the news that his Aunt's house was in need of a total remodel after a bad bout of renters, there was little question that he should give as much of his time as possible to that endeavor (though God knows my heart was not in it as it should have been). But what about those little daily inconveniences- the dog getting fleas, Katara spitting up all over the clean outfit I just put on, or a friend calling to chat for an hour that I would rather spend writing- do I recognize the Divine hand in these things too? Perhaps somewhere deep down I know this, but my reaction to these things is often all too knee-jerk, too focused on the temporal.
Romans 8:7 says: "For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God's law; indeed, it cannot."
Have I become set on the flesh? It used to be much easier to think of leaving all that I held dear for God- I guess there just didn't used to be all that much that I held dear. I wasn't super attached to my family before I was married, I hated my job, and didn't have all that many friends. The mission field actually sounded attractive because it would be something meaningful, even if not exactly glamorous. But now when I think of leaving this cozy apartment with our matching black furniture and vaulted ceilings in exchange for a hut somewhere in Africa, my courage completely fails me.
In other words, I've become comfortable. In God's providence Danny and I have been financially secure, our marriage has been sun-kissed from the beginning, and now we have a beautiful daughter whom we would like to give the world- trips to Disney land, a beautiful rambling house in the country, and a stellar college education. I used to scorn the American dream, but now I find myself spending hours daydreaming about home decor and summer vacations. I know it's not a bad thing to be financially secure and to use some of that money to enjoy the comforts of life, but not knowing how to live without it is quite a different matter. Self-denial is becoming harder and harder, even while I'm supposed to be growing older and more sanctified with each year.
A mind set on the flesh is also one which cannot deny the comforts of the flesh, like that oh-so-tempting second cookie or a series of small snacks in the afternoon instead of the sensible granola bar. Even when my daughter's health depends on it, I've found it so difficult to fill my body with good things, which is just so unreasonable. This body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, and I MUST take care of it.
Worst of all, a mind set on the flesh sees God only as very far off. This world and everything in it- from leather couches to marriage it's self- WILL pass away. There is a spiritual dimension to reality which should be even more potent and real to me than the temporal, but it's not. Instead, I find that when I come to God He seems unreal, the concept of His word unrealistic and impossible to believe. When I reason through these things my mind still agrees to all the tenants of Christianity, but my heart does not belong to my Savior the way it once did. What happened to the days when I felt His presence all day long, when my mind slipped to prayer as naturally as it now runs to numbers and schedules and calories. What a waste of energy it has all been, too, for it hasn't gotten me anywhere except more frustrated when things don't go my way.
So here is my resolution for this day, and every day following it: to "walk by the spirit," that I may not "gratify the desires of the flesh." (Galatians 5:19) For me, this means to stop obsessing over how I want things to go, to stop pouring over schedules and budgets and diet plans and start living these things minute by minute, as God provides the time and opportunity. To give over each and every day- each moment- to Him, no matter what He may choose to do with it. To spend as much time in prayer as possible, knowing that God's blessing on all my endeavors is more valuable than any amount of planning and preparation. To deny myself as often as possible, if it's at the shopping mall, in the kitchen, or when the phone rings- so that I may learn to "die daily." (1 Corinthians 15:31). To make a conscious choice to "Set my mind on the things above, and not on the things that are on the earth." (Colossians 3:2)
Because it in all of my meticulous planning and pinching and starting over again, I have yet to achieve either peace or control or satisfaction with myself. I still go to bed distressed over my own laziness and gluttony and selfishness day after day after day. I can't do this on my own, I have sufficiently proven that now. Time to let it all go, give it to God, and walk with my eyes up on Him instead of down at the path at my feet.
Monday, September 16, 2013
A young mother's thoughts on young motherhood (so far)
It is strange to think that I have only been a mother for seven and a half weeks. In that time my life has changed more radically than ever before- even more than when I first got married. Right now it's gloomy outside and actually chilly in our usually-stifling third-floor apartment, and I'm hunkered down in PJ's and a sweatshirt, steaming mug of coffee next to the computer screen, Katara sleeping in her bear chair beside me. It makes me happy to think of her so warm and peaceful under two layers of blankets, dreaming away this almost-fall morning.
In a sense, being a mom is a lot easier than I thought it would be. Over the long months of pregnancy, I wasted so much stress over the coming change in our lives. I thought my youth was coming to an end and with it everything that looked or smelled of fun. I thought our marriage would be pushed to the side for 25+ years while child rearing took it's needful place. I thought I wouldn't have the physical strength needed to carry a baby around all day long and get up with her at night, too. I dreaded the loss of my free time and hobbies. Most of all I worried I wouldn't love my baby as I should or that I wouldn't like being a mother.
Of course that last one was ridiculous- from the minute I laid eyes on Katara I was pretty sure of three things: we were going to name her Katara, she had an incredible will to thrive, and I was going to love her until the day I died.
Many of my other fears have more or less come to pass, but they are all overwhelmingly made up for by the abundant love God miraculously instils in the heart of a mother for her helpless, squirming, red-faced little human.
But in another sense, this is also a lot harder than I thought it would be. Watching other mothers, I used to promise myself that I wouldn't be the type to let the laundry go un-folded or to push off a shower until three in the afternoon. Well, the average time it takes me to fold one basket of laundry is now about three and a half days. And I consider myself blessed if I'm showered by dinner time. It's hard for me to even admit these things- I've prided myself on being a conscientious housekeeper and, I thought, a great multi-tasker. I guess God knew I needed to be taken down a few notches. Not having time for these basic household tasks is beyond stressful to me- it takes a daily surrendering of my will to His, and I'm not at all good at it.
Even while I'm constantly scrambling to stay on top of things and usually wind up exhausted at the end of each day, I'm also struggling to accept the monotony of this lifestyle. My hours are spent in a never ending three-hour cycle of feeding, entertaining, and soothing the baby, then scrambling to get stuff done while she dozes. At times I feel so cooped up I could scream, but when I think about packing her up and getting out I can't bear the thought of leaving so many things un-done at home. This tension between the desire to get things done and the desire to get out of the house is the name of the motherhood game, and probably something I will continue to wrestle with for the rest of my child raising years.
Perhaps hardest of all is the realization that my dreams of being a stay at home mom and writing full length novels at the same time are completely unrealistic. This is the burr that keeps burrowing deeper into my flesh these days, the one reality that I can't completely accept. All those hours of practice when I was younger, all the money poured into education- and now, to have it come to nothing... to BE nothing but a wife and mother... am I okay with this? No. Not yet. But I'll get there.
Don't get me wrong- it's not that I don't love being with my baby and meeting her most basic needs. When I'm at my wits end it takes only a few minutes of scrutiny from her curious brown eyes or one of her giant, dimpled smiles to make it all worthwhile. I'm realizing she is the type of person who likes to go all the time, who doesn't let grass grow under her feet. She's curious and brave and persistent, and loves people like her daddy. This is not the type of baby to cuddle up on my chest for a movie or lay cooing in her crib for hours on end, but I would not trade her vivacious personality for a million peaceful hours to clean toilets, write blog posts, or even see the world. She is my world now, she and her daddy and everything that goes on between the four walls of our home.
And I know I have so much to look forward to. Lord willing there will be other babies, each with their own little faces and personalities, bringing something to this family entirely and delightfully outside of our control. Eventually the dynamic schedule of school, sports, music and social activities will take the place of the three-hour sleep-eat-and-cry routine. There will be family movie nights and road trips and moments of true triumph and joy for every child, just as there will be struggles beyond anything I could handle now, I'm sure. For the time being I will just try to cherish every fleeting moment of Katara's life, accepting the little trials that come with it as necessary means of sanctification and of receiving the joy that comes with this calling.
And I will be thankful for little moments like these, when I somehow manage to write an ENTIRE blog post before the baby wakes up- even if there are dishes in the sink and piles of laundry to be folded! :-)
Thursday, September 5, 2013
I Promise
Many of these come from recent sermons we've listened to by Pastor Al Martin, and others come from observing my own mom and other wonderful mothers we know.
Dear Katara, and all future children:
I promise...
To maintain high moral standards, so you will leave our home with a large amount of the innocence you had when you came into it.
To walk with God before you in a manner that makes you desire a relationship with Him as the greatest joy you will ever know.
To teach you faithfully from the precepts of the Bible.
To never pressure you to come to a decision about religion which you are not ready to make.
To respect and obey your father all the time, when you are watching and when you're not. To show you that I love him more than anything every single day.
To spend time with you as often as I can.
To figure out who you are, and what you like, and everything else there is to know about you.
To never let you get away with being lazy.
To let you be a kid for as long as possible.
To make learning fun.
To eat well, be active, and take care of my body so that I always have the energy and stamina to be there for you, and so that you will learn how to be healthy too.
To apologize when I have failed you.
To put down the computers and go outside with you, as often as possible.
To always open the doors of our home to your friends.
To laugh with you and at your jokes and silly antics, and to let you laugh at me when I am doing weird Mom things (like crying during Father Of The Bride).
To let you go, weather it's your first day of school or your last day at home.
To try not to embarrass you more than is necessary for your normal development.
To love every minute of your wild, ridiculous antics, and to never be embarrassed by you even when other people raise their eyebrows.
To discipline out of love, not react out of anger.
To take you seriously.
To give you as many opportunities to serve as possible.
To be cheerful and pleasant, not stressed all the time.
To not obsess about keeping the house clean 24-7, even though I really really like it that way.
To try to be reasonably cool so I won't be annoying to you when you are a teenager.
To accept you for exactly who you are.
To give up the things I love if they are getting in the way of keeping any of these promises.
To be patient.
To encourage you to climb higher, run faster, and try new things- even if it scares me to death to watch you.
To make sure you know I'm in charge.
To stand my ground when you don't like our rules, even if you hate me for it.
To not spoil you too much.
And most importantly, I promise to pray for you every single day for as long as I live.
I know I won't do all of these things all the time, and I certainly won't do any of them perfectly. But as God is my witness this is the model I want to strive after!
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Post from eight weeks ago
This morning I woke up at six thirty to Baby's energetic kicking, and looked out the window to see the day already heating up to barbecue and lawn mowing weather. She must have been as filled with joy and excitement as I was! After an exhausting day yesterday building sets for VBS and fighting pregnancy sickness, it was a much-needed wake-up call to just how much I have to be thankful for.
I was just flipping through the first pages of my journal, which I started this time last year. I saw that I had written about how Danny and I had decided to put off moving and children until I could finish school. I don't even remember that being a conscious decision, but now here we are, right on track. My last day of school is the 14th, we move on the 15th, and baby should come about a month after that. I'm really, really glad I've had this chance to pursue education in a subject I love, but now I'm equally glad to be done and on to the next thing.
Today I am 33 weeks pregnant. Just another three weeks and the baby can safely come anytime. Looking back to the first few days of this journey, I remember thinking that nine months was basically a life time away. I didn't think much about the coming addition to our family, I just thought about how much my body was changing and how it felt like youth was slipping away week by week. Now it seems that motherhood has snuck up on me, and I'm nowhere near ready... but somewhere between the beginning and now, I've gotten used to the whole idea. Ready or not, I'm okay with being a mom now. Okay with being the person in the corner nursing, okay with not writing the next bestseller, okay with having a few stretch marks that weren't there before.
This is not to say that I think it will be easy or that I don't have apprehensions. To be honest, the thought of nursing a baby ever 2-3 hours through the night makes me want to break down in tears every time I think about it. So does the idea of running around after a mischievous one year old all day long, or having battles of wit with a stubborn three year old. Everyone tells me it's going to be wonderful, and I know it will be. But wonderful does not necessarily mean easy. It sounds so exhausting, and my selfish flesh rises up against having to give of myself so much. The exposing of this selfishness is one of the things I dread the most. I don't want to discover just how many layers of ugliness I have in me, or go through the pain of having them stripped away.
But on the other hand, my life has been incredibly good and more to the point incredibly easy for the last year or so. Perhaps it's time for me to be pushed a little, to be thrown into something I'm completely NOT ready for, and to find out the depths of my own depravity. It won't be all fun and games, but it will be good for me. It will be just the right tool to chip away at these giant clumps of rough substance that still cling to my character, and as the years go on it will only continue to chip and sand and finally polish. To be made more holy by a means so riddled with joy and love and happiness is no small blessing.
So ready or not, I say bring it on- trusting in God to give me the strength!
I was just flipping through the first pages of my journal, which I started this time last year. I saw that I had written about how Danny and I had decided to put off moving and children until I could finish school. I don't even remember that being a conscious decision, but now here we are, right on track. My last day of school is the 14th, we move on the 15th, and baby should come about a month after that. I'm really, really glad I've had this chance to pursue education in a subject I love, but now I'm equally glad to be done and on to the next thing.
Today I am 33 weeks pregnant. Just another three weeks and the baby can safely come anytime. Looking back to the first few days of this journey, I remember thinking that nine months was basically a life time away. I didn't think much about the coming addition to our family, I just thought about how much my body was changing and how it felt like youth was slipping away week by week. Now it seems that motherhood has snuck up on me, and I'm nowhere near ready... but somewhere between the beginning and now, I've gotten used to the whole idea. Ready or not, I'm okay with being a mom now. Okay with being the person in the corner nursing, okay with not writing the next bestseller, okay with having a few stretch marks that weren't there before.
This is not to say that I think it will be easy or that I don't have apprehensions. To be honest, the thought of nursing a baby ever 2-3 hours through the night makes me want to break down in tears every time I think about it. So does the idea of running around after a mischievous one year old all day long, or having battles of wit with a stubborn three year old. Everyone tells me it's going to be wonderful, and I know it will be. But wonderful does not necessarily mean easy. It sounds so exhausting, and my selfish flesh rises up against having to give of myself so much. The exposing of this selfishness is one of the things I dread the most. I don't want to discover just how many layers of ugliness I have in me, or go through the pain of having them stripped away.
But on the other hand, my life has been incredibly good and more to the point incredibly easy for the last year or so. Perhaps it's time for me to be pushed a little, to be thrown into something I'm completely NOT ready for, and to find out the depths of my own depravity. It won't be all fun and games, but it will be good for me. It will be just the right tool to chip away at these giant clumps of rough substance that still cling to my character, and as the years go on it will only continue to chip and sand and finally polish. To be made more holy by a means so riddled with joy and love and happiness is no small blessing.
So ready or not, I say bring it on- trusting in God to give me the strength!
Thursday, March 28, 2013
life as we know it
Perhaps it's a result of staying up too late and getting up too early, but today my mind is a swirl of thoughts about life and the big picture. I have been lining up my commitments lately and I'm excited to realize that all of them but ONE will be checked off for good by the time baby Villa comes along. Though I'm terribly overwhelmed at the thought of raising a newborn, it is a huge relief to know that I will be able to focus everything on her for the first few months.
In the mean time, life is a tangle of plans made, broken, and made again, as I try to tackle all the responsibilities that are on my plate right now. This is something I have always been bad at. It's strange too because just a few weeks ago I was complaining that I didn't have enough to do... and now suddenly it's craziness all the time. This is largely due to the home-buying process, which kicked into overdrive when our offer was accepted on a duplex in Auburn. It is somewhat of a fixer-upper, so that will keep us very busy until the baby arrives, I'm sure.
In the midst of this my husband has become fed up with the very obvious flaws in the university education system (particularly where he is attending) and is trying to figure out weather he wants to continue his education or not. There are other opportunities for him on the horizon, including (but not limited to) a new job which will begin a week from tomorrow. So needless to say the tectonic plates under our lives are shifting again, and we are constantly trying to re-define normal. It is definitely better than boredom, but I can't help but crave the simplicity of a suburban lifestyle. Sending the kids off to school every day and Dad getting home at 5 o'clock sharp would leave Mom plenty of time to write, cook, clean, and sleep.
Of course, we are not called to easy in this life. And I have the feeling that as long as I have the husband I do, life will never exactly be simple for us... and I wouldn't have it any other way! To spend and be spent is the greatest blessing I could ask for out of this life. The challenge lies in putting to rest my own foolish ideas about what is important or how I WANT to spend my time, to focus instead on what God has laid in front of me for the day ahead.
Speaking of which, I should be off to prepare for tutoring and to get some homework done. But this short break has cleared my mind a great deal, and I feel I can venture out into the world now with a sense of purpose behind me! It's amazing the wonders of a little writing therapy.
In the mean time, life is a tangle of plans made, broken, and made again, as I try to tackle all the responsibilities that are on my plate right now. This is something I have always been bad at. It's strange too because just a few weeks ago I was complaining that I didn't have enough to do... and now suddenly it's craziness all the time. This is largely due to the home-buying process, which kicked into overdrive when our offer was accepted on a duplex in Auburn. It is somewhat of a fixer-upper, so that will keep us very busy until the baby arrives, I'm sure.
In the midst of this my husband has become fed up with the very obvious flaws in the university education system (particularly where he is attending) and is trying to figure out weather he wants to continue his education or not. There are other opportunities for him on the horizon, including (but not limited to) a new job which will begin a week from tomorrow. So needless to say the tectonic plates under our lives are shifting again, and we are constantly trying to re-define normal. It is definitely better than boredom, but I can't help but crave the simplicity of a suburban lifestyle. Sending the kids off to school every day and Dad getting home at 5 o'clock sharp would leave Mom plenty of time to write, cook, clean, and sleep.
Of course, we are not called to easy in this life. And I have the feeling that as long as I have the husband I do, life will never exactly be simple for us... and I wouldn't have it any other way! To spend and be spent is the greatest blessing I could ask for out of this life. The challenge lies in putting to rest my own foolish ideas about what is important or how I WANT to spend my time, to focus instead on what God has laid in front of me for the day ahead.
Speaking of which, I should be off to prepare for tutoring and to get some homework done. But this short break has cleared my mind a great deal, and I feel I can venture out into the world now with a sense of purpose behind me! It's amazing the wonders of a little writing therapy.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Dialogue
This week in my Intro to Novel Writing class, I'm learning about Dialogue. I'm sitting in a Starbucks now (okay, I don't go to Starbucks as much as it sounds like I do... we just have this tradition of going on Mondays when we both have a lot of homework, except this time we went on Tuesday because... oh, who cares!) and trying to pay attention to the kind of Dialogue going on around me. There is a very unique group of people talking at the table next to us- an older white business man, a beautiful Asian woman, and a skinny young guy with hair that sticks up slightly around the edges. The older man talks so low I can hardly hear him, telling stories in a matter-of-fact way while he sips on his drink with a refined air. The woman laughs through every word and her voice rises and falls a lot, almost as though she's mimicking a whole cast of characters as she goes. The boy's voice is louder and gruff, and he grins when he speaks and when he listens. I wonder most what it is he thinks of the other two. When he does speak, it is eagerly, as though he's excited to get a word in edge-wise. The woman reaches over suddenly and rubs the boys arm, revealing an interesting twist in the plot... is this her adopted brother? Boyfriend, even? Hum...
Then there are the Starbucks workers. This week the gotte guy is missing his curly-haired companion, but he is just as talkative and eager as usual- maybe even more so now that he has the stage to himself. He tells a different story to every customer, half of these stories about his adventures serving coffee with the curly-haired guy. When he does manage to engage his work-focused co-worker in discussion, it is about things like milk, coffee, cleaning the counters properly, and the failings of the other employees. Particularly about the curly-haired guy... I'm sensing this is a friendship that goes deeper than mere coffee and night shifts.
But I digress from the point. Dialogue. The Starbucks guy tells a lot of pointless stories, says little things here and there that are mere silence fillers. They would be very boring if put in dialogue form for a story, but as background to a more important scene... perhaps. It's a good reminder that when people talk in real life they don't always speak with purpose, and sometimes that makes them lovable, even if a tiny bit annoying.
Friday, February 15, 2013
for apple trees and honey bees
It is a perfect, sunny February day. The kitchen window is open, the breeze moving the strings of a bright floral apron hanging from the window frame. Max sleeps lazily in the patches of sun around the house, getting up to move every half-hour as the sun changes positions. The voices of kids walking home from school float through the kitchen, their voices merrier than usual. The only thing that could make this day more perfect would be something lemony to eat...
It is the kind of day that demands fresh starts and fresh thoughts, and I have spent it in preparing for the upcoming addition to our little family, reading, walking around the neighborhood, and checking things off the to-do list. This all makes me think that if only I could live in a sunny climate, I would be happy, productive and interesting every day, though I know this is far from the truth. In fact, it seems that the more we hang our happiness on something, the less likely that thing is to ever truly satisfy us. Besides, I would never appreciate days like today as much if they happened all the time!
If anyone is looking for an interesting read, particularly for teenage girls, I would recommend Sarah Dessen's book "Along for the Ride." I'm about half-way through it, and though the main character does make a bad choice close to the beginning, her behavior is not condoned and the incident is not described at all. I appreciate that cleanness about Sarah Dessen's books (this is the third I've read so far), but even more so I appreciate how her female characters find themselves without either falling hopelessly in love or having any kind of feministic empowering experience. God is sadly missing, but the message is oddly more along the lines of what I would want my girls to be reading than many Christian books of the same genre. Not that I have read all that many Christian YA books... if anyone has suggestions for some good ones, I'd love to check them out!
Well, that's about all I have for my "writer's journal" this week... off to finish up some homework and then set to work on a egg-sandwich dinner to be shared with some friends. Enjoy the rest of this beautiful day!
Well, now it's perfect!
If anyone is looking for an interesting read, particularly for teenage girls, I would recommend Sarah Dessen's book "Along for the Ride." I'm about half-way through it, and though the main character does make a bad choice close to the beginning, her behavior is not condoned and the incident is not described at all. I appreciate that cleanness about Sarah Dessen's books (this is the third I've read so far), but even more so I appreciate how her female characters find themselves without either falling hopelessly in love or having any kind of feministic empowering experience. God is sadly missing, but the message is oddly more along the lines of what I would want my girls to be reading than many Christian books of the same genre. Not that I have read all that many Christian YA books... if anyone has suggestions for some good ones, I'd love to check them out!
Well, that's about all I have for my "writer's journal" this week... off to finish up some homework and then set to work on a egg-sandwich dinner to be shared with some friends. Enjoy the rest of this beautiful day!
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Things to say
Well, here I am, writing a blog post.
I recognize that I don't have many readers over here anymore, which is awesome, because my ramblings become more boring as I go on. And now I have a school assignment to keep a writer's journal, which is simply too much for me given all the other kinds of journals I already keep. So I'm going to try to blog once a week instead... we'll see how that goes.
I must confess, the concept of a writer's journal is largely lost on me. My sister has one, and she writes things in it like, "Red is the best color for a car," and "What if there was a story about a giant who didn't like eating goats like all the other giants?" This means that when various inspirational thoughts occur to her she actually has the energy to go find her notebook, open it, find a working pen, and write her thought down. This is where it breaks down for me.
Also, it seems the older I get the less I enjoy writing as an outlet. It's still an awesome hobby, but I wouldn't think of myself as necessarily an artsy-fartsy person who likes to do things like sit in a Starbucks and write about the smell of coffee and the Arabic couple arguing at the next table over. I guess it's part of settling into wife-hood and facing impending mother-hood... everything must have it's box, and if the boxes start running over and falling into each other, chaos ensues! So I'm a writer when I sit down to do an assignment or to work on my manuscript, but not when I get up to unload the dishwasher. I'm going to go ahead and accept that this does not make me a terrible person, just a boring one.
But, since I have the excuse of this being an assignment, I might as well mention that I actually am at a Starbucks right now, and there actually is an Arabic couple arguing at the next table. At least, I think they're arguing- it's hard to tell since they aren't speaking English all the time. Looking at them is in a sense familiar to me now, since I live in SeaTac where it's unusual to see a white person walking down the street. And yet, I was just learning in my novel writing class that it's essential to be able to write about people who are different from you, and I know I would be totally incapable of writing about the lives of someone like that without doing a LOT of research. Isn't it so interesting that we live side-by-side with people we know absolutely nothing about, people who's lives we couldn't even imagine by looking at them?
Also, at this Starbucks there are two workers, the same two workers who are almost always here when we come in the evening. They are quite a pair. One of them is a big tall guy with a major head of curly hair, whose church I've actually gone to a couple of times- though he doesn't remember me. It's weird because he's friends with a lot of my friends and he's the popular type, so I used to hear about him a lot. Every time I come in he's leaning over the counter talking to someone, usually a female someone. He's the kind of person who wears his heart on his sleeve and is pretty much always happy, and always in love. It's weird to order coffee from someone whom you know a lot about. Last week I was dying to ask him if he was still with the girl he was apparently so head-over-heels in love with in High School. Can you imagine the look on his face?
The other guy is shorter and thinner, with a very distinguishing (not to be confused with distinguished) goatee. Yikes, he's sweeping behind me right now... I hope he doesn't look up at my screen! He's the music-lover, the indie one- but the two are both very vocal and have very creative vocabulary choices. They don't talk like most mid-20 year old co-workers, they are interesting and engaging. It's kind of refreshing, actually.
I recognize that I don't have many readers over here anymore, which is awesome, because my ramblings become more boring as I go on. And now I have a school assignment to keep a writer's journal, which is simply too much for me given all the other kinds of journals I already keep. So I'm going to try to blog once a week instead... we'll see how that goes.
I must confess, the concept of a writer's journal is largely lost on me. My sister has one, and she writes things in it like, "Red is the best color for a car," and "What if there was a story about a giant who didn't like eating goats like all the other giants?" This means that when various inspirational thoughts occur to her she actually has the energy to go find her notebook, open it, find a working pen, and write her thought down. This is where it breaks down for me.
Also, it seems the older I get the less I enjoy writing as an outlet. It's still an awesome hobby, but I wouldn't think of myself as necessarily an artsy-fartsy person who likes to do things like sit in a Starbucks and write about the smell of coffee and the Arabic couple arguing at the next table over. I guess it's part of settling into wife-hood and facing impending mother-hood... everything must have it's box, and if the boxes start running over and falling into each other, chaos ensues! So I'm a writer when I sit down to do an assignment or to work on my manuscript, but not when I get up to unload the dishwasher. I'm going to go ahead and accept that this does not make me a terrible person, just a boring one.
But, since I have the excuse of this being an assignment, I might as well mention that I actually am at a Starbucks right now, and there actually is an Arabic couple arguing at the next table. At least, I think they're arguing- it's hard to tell since they aren't speaking English all the time. Looking at them is in a sense familiar to me now, since I live in SeaTac where it's unusual to see a white person walking down the street. And yet, I was just learning in my novel writing class that it's essential to be able to write about people who are different from you, and I know I would be totally incapable of writing about the lives of someone like that without doing a LOT of research. Isn't it so interesting that we live side-by-side with people we know absolutely nothing about, people who's lives we couldn't even imagine by looking at them?
Also, at this Starbucks there are two workers, the same two workers who are almost always here when we come in the evening. They are quite a pair. One of them is a big tall guy with a major head of curly hair, whose church I've actually gone to a couple of times- though he doesn't remember me. It's weird because he's friends with a lot of my friends and he's the popular type, so I used to hear about him a lot. Every time I come in he's leaning over the counter talking to someone, usually a female someone. He's the kind of person who wears his heart on his sleeve and is pretty much always happy, and always in love. It's weird to order coffee from someone whom you know a lot about. Last week I was dying to ask him if he was still with the girl he was apparently so head-over-heels in love with in High School. Can you imagine the look on his face?
The other guy is shorter and thinner, with a very distinguishing (not to be confused with distinguished) goatee. Yikes, he's sweeping behind me right now... I hope he doesn't look up at my screen! He's the music-lover, the indie one- but the two are both very vocal and have very creative vocabulary choices. They don't talk like most mid-20 year old co-workers, they are interesting and engaging. It's kind of refreshing, actually.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
What is life?
Is it the ability to grow? To Breathe? To feel? To have a soul?
So much of this life slips by unnoticed. We don't realize that all of our coming and going and stopping and starting equals living, until that time is passed. Then a wave of nostalgia can take us back to something as simple as a dish we've washed a thousand times or a pair of shoes filled with signatures. We don't realize we're making memories, but we always are. We don't realize that we have made beloved friends until they are taken from us.
Is it living more to experience things beyond mere happenstance? Would it be better to plot and plan out memories, with pictures and books full of words to remember them by? Does it make it easier when the real thing disapears? I don't think so. But there's a certain guilt that comes from staying home too many days in a row, spending evenings amid books and in the kitchen instead of with the people we love.
As with many things, I suspect the best path is somewhere in-between. I didn't make any new years resolutions this year, but perhaps a good one would have been to seize each and every moment- weather small or large- and live it to God's glory. It is not enough to wade through life as though it is only a drugery, nor is it sufficient to try to fly from mountain peak to mountain peak.
For life is not about finding happiness. Neither is it all losses and crosses. It is a conglomeration of moments strung out into hours, days, and weeks that make up our years, and those years are shockingly few in number. How we spend those years is not really up to us. One day we will look back, and it will all seem like a breath.
So don't let a moment slip by un-lived!
Is it the ability to grow? To Breathe? To feel? To have a soul?
So much of this life slips by unnoticed. We don't realize that all of our coming and going and stopping and starting equals living, until that time is passed. Then a wave of nostalgia can take us back to something as simple as a dish we've washed a thousand times or a pair of shoes filled with signatures. We don't realize we're making memories, but we always are. We don't realize that we have made beloved friends until they are taken from us.
Is it living more to experience things beyond mere happenstance? Would it be better to plot and plan out memories, with pictures and books full of words to remember them by? Does it make it easier when the real thing disapears? I don't think so. But there's a certain guilt that comes from staying home too many days in a row, spending evenings amid books and in the kitchen instead of with the people we love.
As with many things, I suspect the best path is somewhere in-between. I didn't make any new years resolutions this year, but perhaps a good one would have been to seize each and every moment- weather small or large- and live it to God's glory. It is not enough to wade through life as though it is only a drugery, nor is it sufficient to try to fly from mountain peak to mountain peak.
For life is not about finding happiness. Neither is it all losses and crosses. It is a conglomeration of moments strung out into hours, days, and weeks that make up our years, and those years are shockingly few in number. How we spend those years is not really up to us. One day we will look back, and it will all seem like a breath.
So don't let a moment slip by un-lived!
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