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.  

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!  :-)

I Promise

Nothing could have prepared me for the joy this little girl brings. As we roll past her six-week birthday today, she begins to show signs of understanding and recognition when we look into her eyes or say her name. It's already time for Danny and I to start being careful what tones of voice we use in the house or how we talk to each other in her presence. Thinking about these things, I want to put into writing some of my resolutions about the kind of mother I want to be.

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!