The Gifts of Ordinary Days

Days are passing with excessive speed and I'm trying to take it all in.  Five more work days, five more opportunities to bring Lene home to have lunch with me, five more weeks before another school year is in the books.  Yet, even with all that is happening, I am filled with an incredible peace.  I am delighting in my mothering moments and have finally leaned so completely into God that I'm not sure where I start or where He ends. As it should be, I suppose.

Trips to the desert have become memories in the making lately.  Tis the season for pony rides and birthday parties for a favorite four year old.  And letting go a little for Lene to make fun ten-year-old memories with her friends. . .

Wine walks and wise words adorn the forefront of my mind as opportunities loom about me and friends rally around to encourage me in this change of life I am about to encounter.

Outside reading sessions, healthy smoothies, imaginative, creative play embrace us.  Hearts break wide and a farewell dinner of sorts takes place under the stars as we send our Miss Sharon off to Idaho to live closer to her people. 

Ordinary days filled with extraordinary ways.
Embracing it all.
Don't blink.
It will be gone too soon.

From my Journal

Dear Lord,

Holy Week. So much suffering done by you, for me. . .
Yet I reflect on the absolute joy I have been filled with already these two days.  That contradiction boggles my mind.

I am at peace with my decision for next year.  I've been honest with the big whigs who run things.  And I thank you.  Thank you for being enough.  Thank you for making me enough.  Thank you for the gift of knowing home is where I belong.  My sphere of influence here is great and my kids will know how you always work in their lives and how you are all they need.

So much of my adult life has been spent playing it safe.  Not taking risks, not rocking the boat, doing things others expect me to do and doing them well, caring too much what others think. . .and not relying on you for every little thing.

The past six years have prepared me for this moment.  Leaning into you did not come naturally to me; I learned to.  Over the course of these years, you opened my eyes to the beauty that was right in front of me. Thank you.  I could have missed all this:

• The way she moves her head and sings aloud from the back seat as we run errands.
• A weekly lunch date with my oldest little.  Hand in mine as we cross the street.
• The way he has to eat before getting dressed in the morning.  And how he warms himself by the fireplace.
• Noticing his tastes have changed from pbj sandwiches to turkey this month.
• Park dates after preschool.
• Friends coming over to do homework or a full car load of girls to honor choir.
• Picnics of pretend food on the library floor.
• Barbies and Little Pets and make believe galore.

I never thought this was the life for me.  Good thing you knew it all along.  Thank you doesn't seem enough.

Amen

Just because. . .

Writing when the words don't want to come will get you nowhere.

Being who He created you to be can't happen if you're always trying to edit His plans in your life.

Letting go of a job title to lean into motherhood is more complicated than I would like it to be.

Embracing hands free and being hands on is beautiful in theory but hard to practice...all. the. time.

Caring for a sickie is exhausting and exhilarating all in the same breath.

The realization your standards for clean and your kids standard for clean are two different things. . .means middle ground is hard to come by.

Gorgeous weather makes for a happy soul and dreams of adventure to accompany it. 

The kids?  They beg for summer to come quickly.  I beg for it too.  For the last sentences of this chapter to be written and to close this part of my story. 

The thought of the future and the opportunities that await me--excites me as much as it terrifies me.  

I breathe deep gulps of gratitude to be able to walk away from a career in education for a season. . .but then I anxiously explore other options because if I am not a teacher then who am I? I updated my resume--for what? How can I encourage a college education for my girls so that they don't feel guilt if they decide to stay home and raise their own children? Where does my guilt even come from? Sigh.

I tuck it all away and try to focus on God and His plans for me, but then there's the writer's block because I can't really write anything of substance if I don't deal with the thoughts I'm stuffing.  So I un-stuff here in this space. I think about the character education program I have the chance of starting at our elementary school. I think about my TK'er and the opportunity I have to school her at home.  Every day.  For a whole year.  I think about early morning time with my two girls next year. . .how perfect as one goes off to middle school, we will have the gift of an hour together every morning.  I think about not having to lesson plan or grade papers, or desperately plea with parents to do something to help their child to be successful. . .how freeing that sounds!  Sigh of relief.  

Being my kid's mom is enough.  I am enough.  He had this plan for my life all long!!! I'm embracing the role and seizing the opportunity because it's mine!!!  All of it! Blessing upon blessing upon blessing! For seventeen years I've left imprints on the lives of my students. . .now the direction is shifting and I am so excited for the imprints I will leave on the hearts of my children and their friends.

"For we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." Ephesians 2:10 (NLT)

Seeing Things

I saw a most interesting sight this morning.   The first time I saw "it"  but" it" didn't register.  Honestly, I think I may have wondered quickly, "what in the world?" but that thought was quickly replaced by walking my preschooler to her classroom and saying good-bye.  As I waited at the stop sign, right turn signal blinking, I saw "it" again. Then I paused before proceeding into my turn where I could really see "it."
The man wasn't so much who I was interested in.  "It" was the cross he carried as he walked down Bonita Ave. in broad daylight that had my attention.  The real, wooden cross that took my mind off everything else. . .because he looked like I imagine Jesus did as he carried his cross on his way to his crucifixion and and the crowds stood by and watched.

This man's cross was large and wooden but it had a wheel or something that was helping him to drag it as he walked.  And I'm not sure what fascinated me more.  His walking with it down the busy avenue or  the concept behind it--and that I would happen to see him, dragging this during the Lenten season.  I couldn't shake the image--still can't because of what that cross represents.

I wish I had stopped and not just assumed it was his preferred method of exercise for the day.  I bet there is an interesting meaning or reason for why he does this. Yet I find it odd that I travel this road three times a week at the exact same time and I have never seen him before--then I wonder if I will see him again.  Finally my brain goes into this weird world of what if that was Jesus and I just drove by.  I didn't give him the time of day because I was too busy returning library books and going grocery shopping.  I mean, really Janene! How many times, Janene?

I had a similar experience a year ago. Bubba was in the car with me.  It was a beautiful Summer like day and we were driving to Sam's Club when I could make out a strange image ahead to my right.  I say strange because from a distance it looked like a pale, naked woman with long, flowing hair walking North while I was traveling South.  As we waited at a light, sure enough, it was a naked woman without even a pair of shoes.  My eyes bugged out of my head and when the light turned green I went--I looked back at my son who was looking out the window. . .of course he was! His surprised expression answered the question I spoke aloud, "Was that what I thought it was?" He responded, "Yep, she was naked."

I continued driving, totally in disbelief with what we had both just seen.  Then I panicked, what if she wasn't okay.  People weren't stopping. And I had that thought, what if. . .and I just drove on?  So, I turned around as soon as I could legally do u turn. . .and she had just vanished!  I didn't see any police officers or any sign of anything.  She was just gone.  If my son hadn't seen her too, I would have thought I was a little crazy.

Today's sighting made me think of that day--and I pretty much just drove by--AGAIN! I guess the good is that both incidents made me take pause and reflect.  I think I may just have to take a walk tomorrow morning and see if our paths cross so I could actually ask if there's a story behind the carrying of the cross.  Maybe it only comes out at Lent.  Maybe it is his way to remind the rest of us of the sacrifice He made for our sins.  Maybe, maybe, maybe. . .and maybe not. But I like the way it made me think. 

Counter-Culture Rambling

Time keeps racing on but I am in no hurry to keep up.  I find myself, this week, being easier on myself, using my time to enjoy simple moments, and finding great joy in that.  Ernie is off work and what a gift to have him woven back into the daily fiber of our lives.  Devotions and goodbyes in the morning include him.  Walking and talking all the way to pre-school drop off with my best friend is such an unexpected blessing this week with gorgeous weather to top it off!

Many conversations have taken place this week in which he has reminded me to,  "let it go."  (Actually that song has practically been on repeat over here.  The whole Frozen soundtrack is fun and I love to hear Janessa scream it at the top of her lungs.) We have so many decisions to make about next year--to go to transitional kinder or not; to send Lene to Catholic School or not; for me to quit teaching for good for a season or not. .  and although I don't feel anxious about any of them, I kind of want E to make the final decision--it feels like too much for me to handle on my own and I'm desperately afraid to be wrong. Besides, I just want to know there is a plan. What's wrong with that?

But E's gentle reminder to let it go brings me back to the FOCUS of what we are trying to accomplish in this house:  To trust God's plan on the calling in our lives.  I'm not sure why all of a sudden I'm thinking any more about giving up teaching than I was two years ago when I was gifted the opportunity to work less.  I don't know why I'm not certain that God's plan will be revealed in His time and I can't just go with that--praying and living life for Him in the meantime.  I feel like He's saying, "How many times Janene do I have to show you. . .I've got this?"  I know it deep, deep down.  I just need to not let the future thoughts weigh me down and enjoy the simple gifts of today.

This week those gifts have been too many to count; although I am trying.  I began journaling my thousand gifts again.  Ann Voskamp's reminders are alive and well in my heart and I'm trying to live in a deep state of gratitude daily. The simple idea to look for a gift in everything has resonated with me this month as we already start the year less three people we knew in our life, with three funerals this weekend.

Book club has started again and we are reading Mission to Motherhood.
This is my third time reading the book and I am amazed how new parts are speaking to my heart. God's timing is always so perfect.  There are parts in here that remind me to question my motive behind working--for me, job security should not equal working more for money we do not need.  Granted, more money is nice--but we currently live a modest life that can be sustained on one income.  And what about my retirement?  Were my granpdarents and great grandparents motivated by working for their retirement?  I don't think so.  Actually I don't think my grandma ever worked outside her home--but they did fine.  The reason I think this is, is because they lived through the depression.  They knew the difference between needs and wants.  They stayed in the houses they bought and paid them off.  They didn't drive up credit cards and lived within their means.  I think we live like that.  We choose to live like that.  We aren't buying culture's lies that we have to keep up with the Jones'.  We are certain that home is where your heart is--it doesn't have to be big where we have to work for the mortgage.  Culture calls out lies and messages that are so loud and deafening we get overwhelmed with the noise. But our headphones are on and we refuse to listen!


This post got E and I discussing our own degree of affluenza and how we could combat it in our kids.  Sometimes it is so much easier to give into the demands of culture--to disqualify our own inner voice for the sake of not wanting our kids to be left out or considered different.  But if we don't discern culture's voice for our children, who will? Not sure that this relates but, oh well--I noticed it so I'm writing it. Last night we went out to pizza after volleyball practice with the team.  We were all responsible for our own orders.  I ordered three kids drinks and two regulars.  In my head, I knew I was allowing the kids to have a soda on a school night--that's generous in my book, so it wasn't going to be a big one.  Besides, last time I checked they were all kids.  Anjalene made a slight face when I handed her the cup.  Her eyes said, "Really Mom?"  I explained my rationale and she walked off to fill up her cup.  When I looked at the team's table--sure enough, my kid was the only one with the smaller version of a cup.  Know what?  Nobody really cared.  I could have traded her my big cup for hers so she would fit in--but why?  Culture dictates enough and causes too much stress already in our hectic lives--why let it have a hold in our house?

Date nights have been abundant this week.  E took the girls out and they got all dressed up.  Bubba and I spent some quality time together researching penny boards over dinner out.  The kids served us while Ea and I enjoyed a fire in the backyard after we put Nessa down.  It was so generous of them to serve and they told us we should do that every week. We just might take them up on that. 

My phone hasn't been out as much these days.  I'm slowly reading Hands Free Mama.  Oh man, has it struck a chord.  I am guilty of living a distracted life with my phone in quick reach.  Even in my attempt to capture moments to document our life--I've missed out on some simple gestures and expressions.  It's hard to keep reading when I'm convicted page after page.  If it's not checking emails, or Instagram. . .it's responding to text messages.  there is always something to distract.  I'm striking back and taking control of my bad habit so my kids can grow up to be hands free too. Tell me I'm not the only one struggling in this area, please! 

I'm trying to learn scripture this year.  Did I mention that?  This month's verse--pitiful, I know--but weekly has just never worked for me, so instead of giving up I'm giving myself grace and allowing more time to soak it in and memorize it.  More info on the plan here

"In the beginning was the word and the word was with God and the word was God."--John 1:1