Because of some recent craziness in our house, I've been thinking on value as of late. Where it can be found. What determines it. My head has always said that value is determined in small things, but I don't know that my heart thought much on it until recently. However, as I've been looking for my value, I believe I have discovered just where it resides.
Today is a pretty typical day. It's not quite 3pm and the girls are napping. London fought sleep quite viciously, but finally surrendered. I washed a load of clothes that had a disposable diaper in them, and therefore, washed the load three times now. (Salt, by the way. Run them again with only salt sprinkled into the machine instead of detergent. who knew?)
I've cooked a whole chicken with some veggies mixed in, deboned it, and used the broth from it for some homemade soup. I've painted half of Story's room with primer. I've taken a long bath. blah blah blah.
As I stood at the sink wiping it down, I stared out the window. (I recently took the mini blinds down so we only have curtains so that I can see up into the tree and sky while I stand there.)
I noticed a chubby squirrel digging in the yard, looking for a treasure he buried back when food was plentiful with a watchful eye toward our backdoor, just in case our Westie came running full speed at him again. He found his nut, then ran up the tree and laid across a few twigs on a branch right in front of my window to cover himself with his tail and eat his find.
And I thought...there's my value in today. It's not a list of things I do, whether long or short. It's not a paycheck brought home, or bills that come in. It's not the size, appearance, or cleanliness of your home. It's not what you do while constantly on the go. It's what you do when you stop. ...and if you stop.
My day is not good because it is productive. My day is good because of moments God gives to glimpse Him in His creation. It's little feet in footed pj's dangling from a sleepy toddler as you hold them and sway and hum, attempting to coax them back to sleep. It's simple statements from preschoolers that simply tell you, "you're doing a good job."
It's a moment saturated with radiating, never ending love from a Father. Value is found in understanding that this world is not only about Him, and not you, but that it is fleeting. This season will not last, and neither will these troubles. But neither will these sweet moments. So, which will we focus on? The fleeting stress and anxiety? Or, the fleeting moments of trees losing the very last of this years' leaves and opportunities to greet or compliment a stranger? Tis the season, you know. ;)
Monday, November 28, 2011
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Strength in my hope for the future
The "not of the world, but in the world" Christian mentality has always been easy for me in ways. The Spirit within me has always had a pretty bold fight against many mentalities our world and culture sends us, which is great, except that does leave me friendless many of my days. The one mentality I've always seemed to struggle with the most, however, is the instant gratification.
Our culture has raised us to believe that not only do we need better, we DESERVE better, and we deserve better right this second. Books took too long, then newspapers took too long. Next to fall was the even more brief Internet article. Now, your message to me must be 140 characters or less, or I'm moving on. I'm bored. I'm impatient. I'm done.
Temporary isn't always best, but we think it is if it means instant.
Where this hurts the most? Parenting. Motherhood. I can see from my view as a few years into the mix, but still quite the rookie, why so many mothers and fathers start out with motivation and joy in parenthood, but soon feel defeated and give up. The idea that you must spend 2 to 5 years investing your time, your money, your heart, and yourself into something before you see the rewards come to fruitation is beyond our comprehension.
Not that you aren't rewarded 1000 times a day, but it takes awhile to be rewarded by seeing them and not a mirror.
Recently, we had our first trip to the Emergency Room. It was pretty traumatic for London and I both, but it was a major milestone in motherhood for me. For the last few weeks, she has been transitioning out of that beloved toddler stage to the preschooler one, so you can just BE with her more without entertaining or distracting constantly. I've always known she was my silly but serious child. I know how she will respond and react. I knew that though she would still be scared and in pain, she would calm if we only got her cleaned up and all the blood washed away. I knew that I would have to be gentle, firm, and specific about all the details about going to the doctor to get her boo-boo fixed. I knew I had to be sensitive. Oh, so sensitive for our sensitive girl. But, I did not know one thing.
I never knew how strong London had become.
Oh sure, she's been strong before, but it was always a strength she drew from me, or her daddy, or even a blanket. She wasn't as strong as she was comforted. But this time, she was strong, in her own, on her own. She still needed me, of course. I held her the whole time. I hugged her while they gave her the shot (that took FOREVER.) I hummed and sang to her right after it happened while I put pressure on the cut to stop the bleeding and have a look. But, she was strong. She is strong.
From the time I found out I was expecting her, it has been almost 3.5 years. I have poured out myself again and again, laying there at night or nap time completely empty and begging my Father for more. For more joy, for more patience, for more self-control, and love, and faith, and and and and. And He always gave them to me. I saw them as well that night. I saw my joy in my little girl seeing other people helping her and her trust deepening. I saw my self-control in restraining my emotions when all I wanted to do was cry and panic, but she needed calm and support.
I'm so proud of who she is becoming, and I'm that much more motivated to continue pouring all I know and have of Him into her. That strength and calm we saw in her that night were hers, but taught by us. And that should be motivation for any parent or teacher, even if that child doesn't come home with you at night.
Our culture has raised us to believe that not only do we need better, we DESERVE better, and we deserve better right this second. Books took too long, then newspapers took too long. Next to fall was the even more brief Internet article. Now, your message to me must be 140 characters or less, or I'm moving on. I'm bored. I'm impatient. I'm done.
Temporary isn't always best, but we think it is if it means instant.
Where this hurts the most? Parenting. Motherhood. I can see from my view as a few years into the mix, but still quite the rookie, why so many mothers and fathers start out with motivation and joy in parenthood, but soon feel defeated and give up. The idea that you must spend 2 to 5 years investing your time, your money, your heart, and yourself into something before you see the rewards come to fruitation is beyond our comprehension.
Not that you aren't rewarded 1000 times a day, but it takes awhile to be rewarded by seeing them and not a mirror.
Recently, we had our first trip to the Emergency Room. It was pretty traumatic for London and I both, but it was a major milestone in motherhood for me. For the last few weeks, she has been transitioning out of that beloved toddler stage to the preschooler one, so you can just BE with her more without entertaining or distracting constantly. I've always known she was my silly but serious child. I know how she will respond and react. I knew that though she would still be scared and in pain, she would calm if we only got her cleaned up and all the blood washed away. I knew that I would have to be gentle, firm, and specific about all the details about going to the doctor to get her boo-boo fixed. I knew I had to be sensitive. Oh, so sensitive for our sensitive girl. But, I did not know one thing.
I never knew how strong London had become.
Oh sure, she's been strong before, but it was always a strength she drew from me, or her daddy, or even a blanket. She wasn't as strong as she was comforted. But this time, she was strong, in her own, on her own. She still needed me, of course. I held her the whole time. I hugged her while they gave her the shot (that took FOREVER.) I hummed and sang to her right after it happened while I put pressure on the cut to stop the bleeding and have a look. But, she was strong. She is strong.
From the time I found out I was expecting her, it has been almost 3.5 years. I have poured out myself again and again, laying there at night or nap time completely empty and begging my Father for more. For more joy, for more patience, for more self-control, and love, and faith, and and and and. And He always gave them to me. I saw them as well that night. I saw my joy in my little girl seeing other people helping her and her trust deepening. I saw my self-control in restraining my emotions when all I wanted to do was cry and panic, but she needed calm and support.
I'm so proud of who she is becoming, and I'm that much more motivated to continue pouring all I know and have of Him into her. That strength and calm we saw in her that night were hers, but taught by us. And that should be motivation for any parent or teacher, even if that child doesn't come home with you at night.
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