The Things That Last

Okay, so a couple of weeks ago, this empty nest thing got the better of me.  Or perhaps it was the fact that I turned 50 that same week.  Either way, I went a little nuts.  

I decided it was time to "de-school" the house.  If you homeschool, please listen to the following piece of advise:  DO NOT wait until all your kids are grown and gone to get rid of all the old school stuff.  It's a REALLY bad idea.  Try to take care of it as you go.

I can give that advise because I did the exact opposite.  I'm pretty sure I hadn't thrown away a single scrap of paper in the 18 years that I spent educating our three kids.  Every math paper, every penmanship paper, every grammar worksheet, every creative writing project, every book, every shred of curriculum, everything.  Everything.  Did I mention everything?

It is not a good idea for a pre-menopausal, recently empty-nested, just turned fifty-year-old woman to be going through the papers that her children's sweet little cherub hands created at five, seven, ten...

These would be the books, curriculum, etc. that were good, but no particular attachment was made and they'll be helpful to some other mom someday, so I'm getting rid of them.  Any takers?

More of the same...

Again, any takers?

Boxes and boxes of books that Brian and I have read, enjoyed and decided (perhaps somewhat reluctantly on his part - but he was a little afraid of me at the time, I think, so he complied) to share with others.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

And here's where I learned a little something.  Eighteen years of homeschooling...our blood, sweat and tears.  The blood, sweat and tears of our children... it came down this...

This picture is the blood, sweat and tears part.  The "work".  The part the kids fought me over, that I worried and stressed about, that made me feel like an unfit mother/teacher.  Penmanship, science, history, math, creative writing, blah, blah, blah.  Now?  Now the papers will go up in flames somewhere where I can't watch.  I was reminded often as I sifted through it of this verse in 1 Corinthians 3 :

"For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ.  If anyone builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw,  their work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work."

So what's gonna last?

These are the books I was absolutely unable to part with.  Books that one child or another particularly enjoyed reading, that we all loved reading together, that we laughed through, cried through, had some emotional attachment to...

  

And one day these will burn too, but they'll stay for now because they represent what will not burn.  The love of our family, the love of learning, the joy of discovery, the excitement of "seeing" the lives that have gone before us, getting to know our God better - together.  Those things will last.

I'm thankful that when Erin was in third grade, I put all the "curriculum" away in a box and spent two months getting to know her a little better, investigating how she learned, playing games and adapted "school" to our home instead of forcing someone else's ideas of the best way to learn on to her.  I tried to do that with all three kids. I made plenty of mistakes, forced some stupid curriculum options on them at times, stressed about things I shouldn't have stressed over...  But we'll survive the mistakes, I guess.  We always seem to. :)

What's not gonna burn?  

The relationships;  a life time of memories that we share; the fact that they each, in their own way, love to learn (different things, in different ways, but always growing); character and integrity; a desire in each of them to serve "the least of these".

All of us - those who homeschool and those who send their kids to school, those who teach their own kids at home and those who teach other people's kids, those with no kids at all, but who have a place of influence in another's life - can work on those things.

I've spent a lifetime investing in the education and growth of my children.  I would not trade one second of that time for more money, or things, or fame.  Nothing is more important to me than what we all learned during that time, the relationships built, the time well spent.  I'm so glad I was able to teach them readin', writin', and 'rithmatic - but I'm much more glad that I was able to invest in who they are - in their hearts - in their character - in the "gold, silver and costly stones".

So here's my goal as a pre-menopausal, recently empty-nested, just turned fifty-year-old woman - to find the things that will last and invest in those things in this new chapter of my life.  I'm excited to see where it takes me.

What are you investing in that will last?

And really - I'm searching - I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Lessons at the Airport

I spent some time at the airport yesterday.  I am a people-watcher.  This is a good pairing. 

There are so many stories being told at the airport.

I saw a large group of people leaving the airport.  One, a man in military camo, carrying a sign that said, "Welcome Home Daddy!"  while several toddlers, his wife, friends, and siblings welcomed him home with complete, unashamed, joy.  What stories they must have to tell.  Fear, trust, bravery, separation, reconciliation - on all sides.  

I stood for a good while watching the corridor where those arriving and those meeting the arrivals first meet.  An older woman arrived, nearly running down the corridor to embrace her husband.  They looked like newlyweds in their hellos.  It was beautiful.  I love that they still love like that.

I watched a woman standing in line at the security check, slowly wiping tears from her eyes.  I could not see any indication as to why, but I could see her pain.  Something common to us all.  

I watched an older husband and wife, backs to me, stand and watch a woman, who I assume was their daughter, the whole time after they were forced to say their good byes.  They watched her move through the security line, the checks, and at the last point they could see her before she moved out of sight, the daughter (who looked to be about my age) waved goodbye with enthusiasm, clearly excited about where she was headed.  Mom and Dad finally turned around after she was out of sight and headed toward the escalators.  Mom was crying.  Dad was holding her.  My thought?  It never changes.  This blessing and curse of being a parent.  We will be forever proud of their independence, their accomplishments, their adventures, but moms will never stop worrying and missing.  Dads will never stop holding us up as we walk away, trusting God to hold them when we cannot.

We have so much in common.  Our joys.  Our heartaches.  Our celebrations. I wish we could remember that - and speak a little more tenderly, celebrate wildly with those that have reason to celebrate, mourn with those who have reason to mourn, look for ways to ease the pain of others, love more.

We have so much in common.

Times They Are A Changin'

So here's the thing...

For 23 years - twenty. three. years. - nearly every decision I have made has in some way required that I consider my children.  

When do they need to eat?

sleep?

be dropped off somewhere?

Does the decision conflict with something I'm already doing for them?

Is there a sitter available?, or 

Will they be home alone too long?

Will this help/hinder their education?

Is this a safe/wise/positive activity for them?

This doesn't even begin to touch all the decisions I've made based on their emotional and spiritual needs.

I don't know how to make a decision that doesn't require me to think about my kids.

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And now?

What are we doing tomorrow?  Whatever we want - it doesn't matter.

What is for dinner?  Whatever we want - it doesn't matter.

What movie, tv show, leisure activity?  Whatever we want - it doesn't matter.

Who do we want to invite over?  Whoever we want - it doesn't matter.

One would think this would make me happy.  It does not.

And I know it's not really even true - we have many responsibilities and we don't get to dictate our own schedules simply because there are no kids at home - but, in my currently psychotic mind, it feels like it doesn't matter with them gone.  And here's what I think it boils down to for me...

I don't know how to not be needed.

Most of us get up, move and breathe, each day based on who we believe we are.  For 23 years, without a hesitation or blink of an eye, the answer has been, "I'm a mother."

I watched a sweet, young mother at the restaurant we all went to after church.  Her baby was screaming his precious little head off as she patiently tried to get his food for him.  I couldn't see her face at the time, but I remembered...

I remember vividly how hard that was.  You're exhausted from the morning of getting little ones ready for church, messing up schedules, rushing breakfast.  You go to church - they miss their naps and then you go out to eat.  Most of the time, it's just work to get through lunch with hungry, tired babies.

I watched my young mother friend and had to fight off the urge to just start crying. (And not for her, or not for the same reason as she may have wanted to cry.)

I missed it - being needed.

I know.  I'm sick.

And yes, I know, I'm still a mother.  But that is not the sole reason for my existence anymore.  I don't know what to do with that.  I'm sure there is some sick, co-dependent part of me that needed someone to need me - all the time.  But, apparently, we've done our job at least passably well, and they seem to be able to function as adults without me orchestrating every event.

It is as it should be.  We've worked ourselves out of a job.

So now what?  

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So it begins -- a new day and the journey to figuring out who I am after my kids don't need me to take care of them every day, day in and day out.  

What is my purpose now?  

All sarcasm aside, God has placed some deep passions in my heart over the last few years and I really am excited to see what it is that He has planned in those areas. I'm ready to move on to this next "career" and looking with expectancy for what it's going to bring.

But, just be prepared - I'm not a big fan of change and this is hard.  So if you see me sitting in a corner, watching you with your little ones and I'm falling apart... just walk on by.  I'll get over it soon, I'm sure.  (At least that's what my mother tells me. :) )

Y'all pray that my sweet, patient husband still loves me at the end of this adjustment period. :)

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And if you're reading this and you've survived this transition, feel free to post some benefits that I can look forward to when I stop being a basket case. Thanks!

And Then There Were Two

"And the two became one."

When we first married, we were so doe-eyed and twitterpated.  He was my best friend, the one I laughed with, loved with, played with...we talked, confided - we did most everything together.  We gave each other space to be different, but we enjoyed being together.  We were a family of two and it was good - it was very good.

Enter the baby.  Our family is now three.  This so rocked my world.  I never dreamed that anyone could have such a pull on my heart - such an ability to change everything that I thought I knew - to be SO tiny and helpless, yet make me feel so completely inadequate for the task before us.

I finally figure out how to care for this little one without fear of being discovered a complete fraud as a competent parent --

And then we are four...

I vividly remember FINALLY getting the baby to take a nap, so I could get some desperately needed sleep, and as I walk out of the nursery, I turn and see -- a two year old.  Bright-eyed and ready to have alone time with mom.  It was overwhelming to be so desperately needed and feel like you are never enough.  

But we rock along, we figure it out, we find a schedule that allows me to sleep on occasion and not become too much of a raving lunatic.  

And then we are five.  

I remember, at the time, thinking that I would never rest again.  I would never have time to be alone, to not feel pulled in way too many directions,  that there are WAY more questions than there are answers. 

And that best friend I had just a few years back?  It's really difficult to maintain that during those years.  I thought, "Brian can take care of himself," - he was a grown man, easy to put on the back burner while I focused on those helpless ones in our care.

Have you seen Marley & Me?  Maybe the saddest movie of all time, but what I remember most from that movie is all the tension in the years that they were constantly caring for tinies.  It was so real!  Do you remember that season?  Are you still living there?  

Those tinies have SO many needs and we are so stretched and we see things so differently from our spouse at times.  It is a beautiful, chaotic, messy, blessed life.  We are tired, and cranky, and they can be so insensitive!  From mom's perspective, dad can be so incredibly incompetent about the simplest things in caring for these little creatures (I know now that this isn't fair, but it's what our hormonal minds see - sorry.)

Thankfully - I am eternally, forever, thankful - there were people that were further along in this journey than we were that spoke into our lives.  Women that told me to remember that when these kids were grown and gone, my husband would still be there.  The priority HAD to be to maintain that relationship, that friendship.

(As a side note, because it really deserves much more attention than I can give it here - I recognize that some of you, for one of perhaps hundreds of possible reasons, are living in this stage alone.  Remember that while there may be no more important job, you are more than a mother or a father.  You are a brother/sister, son/daughter, friend, professional.  Nurture those relationships.  Remember who you are - because they will grow up and you need to know that - your kids need to know that.)

I could not imagine a time when there would not be kids in our home.  I could not imagine a time when we would have hours and hours to spend just talking, make our own schedules, cook what we wanted, sleep when we wanted.  But I chose, in spite of great doubt at times,  to trust these women.  

I learned to swallow the desire to choke him when he didn't change a diaper the way I thought he should, when he let them eat things for dinner that I wouldn't, when he left them alone before I thought they were ready (he was only gone for 20 minutes, our daughter WAS old enough, and I was an over-protective lunatic, but I couldn't see that at the time.)  And you know what?  None of those things mattered.  Our kids were not ruined by a Mom and a Dad that did things in a little different way.  And some of the things he did that I wanted to choke him for?  They were the right things, and I was the one that learned.  Imagine that.

We worked on our friendship.  We carved out time when there was none, to talk, to go on dates (sometimes short, sometimes just in the living room with a bowl of popcorn after we finally rendered the tinies unconscious, but a date none-the-less).  When it would have been easier to grow further apart, allowing our only commonality to become the children we are loving and raising, we forgave and we loved and we communicated.

I am so glad we did.  Because then those tinies become teenagers - and we learned what hard really meant.  We learned that there really were more questions than there are answers.  But we continued to work on US.  We went in our bedroom, closed the door, and laughed - sometimes cried, prayed, searched for answers - together. 

We haven't always agreed.  I know there were times that he had to swallow the desire to choke me as well.  But we continued to remember what those ahead of us told us - this season would pass - they would not always be here.  We needed to throw ourselves fully into, and enjoy, the blessing of the five of us right now, but we needed to still know each other when all this changed.

Then it began.  There were four in this house.

Then there were three.

And then there were two...

This is where we are.  The season has arrived.  

I have no idea what this is going to look like.  

I know there will still be difficulties.  I know there will still be times that we have to swallow the desire to choke each other.  We will face new challenges, new adventures.  We will figure out who we are as parents of adult children.  I know we will still worry about our kids, they will still need our help, they may even be back in our home for a season and we will still feel completely inadequate to the tasks at hand.

We've come full circle - a family of two, but we are still one.  We are friends.  We love, we laugh, we cry - we do those things together.  I am so glad we never stopped trying.

If you are still in the midst of the overwhelming chaos - if you can't imagine a time different than this one...  Do not lose sight of the end of the journey.  It will come - in the blink of an eye.  Work at it.  Take time to love each other.  Take time to laugh. Do. Not. Choke. Him.  It will be worth it.

And then there were two.

We Love

I'm a mess.

Let's just get that out on the table right up front.

I am a mess.

My baby is graduating in eight days.  My baby.

I think most of you know this, but  in case you don't, we have homeschooled all our children from the beginning.  All the way through to the end.

I taught them to read.  I listened to literally HOURS of dry, no emotion, labored, early reading voices read out loud to me while I struggled to stay awake through it.  I and my husband have spent hundreds of hours reading books aloud to our kids.  I've learned and re-learned penmanship, math, history, science, language arts.   I've gone on field trips to everywhere you can imagine.  Turned vacations into science labs and history lessons.  Cried over algebra 2 and the higher sciences because I just. did. not. get. it.  Fought with stubborn kids that did not want to do their work.  Threatened to send them away.  Wept in the corner on days that I felt like an utter failure.  Rejoiced when they got it.  Watched their eyes light up when it finally soaked in.  Watched them find their passions and pursue them with abandon.  

I wouldn't change any of that - not. one. second.

But --

I've never dropped my kid off at the front of the school building and watched their precious little legs carry themselves away from me.  I've never stood at a bus stop and watched them take too-big steps onto the bus that would carry them away for the first time.  I've never trusted another person to take them from me for seven hours a day, five days a week, for thirteen years.  Never.

So when each of them have made their way into the world, it's all those small, heart-breaking goodbyes rolled into one huge, earth-shattering, heart-crushing goodbye.

I don't do it well.

When our daughter moved out, I was depressed for weeks.  Depressed, guys.  

I thought it would be easier when the middle kid moved out, because now I have perspective, right?  I know that I was sad, but I lived.  It was scary, but the first one flourished.  So we'll get through this one a little easier, right?  Wrong.

I was depressed for weeks.  Depressed.

Now it's time for the baby.  I've survived a second moving out.  I've watched a second one flourish.  Should be better, right?

Absolutely not.

It's the baby.   And true to form - as he has done from the first day of his life on this planet - this kid is going out in a blaze.  India.  India, people!  For three months, leaving in September.  And if that wasn't horrific enough, he's now dropped the bomb that he would like to go live with his brother this summer and focus on his music in a big way before he leaves.  So, even though it was bad enough that he's going to the other side of the globe in four months...what he'd really like to do is move out in two weeks.  

I'm dyin' here...

I've thought a lot about what I would change if I could do this whole thing over again. The list is too long and too overwhelming to even begin to recount here.  The mistakes have been abundant - as they are for all parents.  I've apologized to my kids more times that I can even say.  I pray that the mistakes weren't too scarring, too much for them to overcome.  

When we stand on the precipice of launching them into adulthood, we consider all the things we could have done different - better.

But I also want to think about what we did right.

We've told our kids since the second child was born that they would always be each other's best friends.  I don't think they really believed us, but we said it anyway - like a mantra.  They fought.  They picked.  They taunted and competed and pushed each others' buttons.  "You're best friends, remember?"  Over and over and over.  They're adults now.  And they're friends.  (They still pick and taunt and compete, by the way, but not quite as often and usually with a little more jest in it than they used to.)

We showed them what it looks like for mom and dad to love each other.  At least I think we did.  We didn't fake unity - they knew we were/are nothing alike and often don't agree on the best way to handle something - but they saw us work as a team.  I want them to know that they can and should expect a healthy, fun, positive, affectionate, committed relationship with their current (our daughter is already married) and future spouses - it's worth working for.  It won't always be perfect, or easy.  But it will always be worth it.

We did things together.  We worked together.  Served together.  Played together.  Decorated Christmas trees.  Made Christmas ornaments.  Went on mission trips.  Cleaned out the garage.  Cooked, cleaned, raised animals.  Sang songs.  Laughed.  Cried.  I hope we've passed on the value of family.  The joy of family.

We taught them to think.  To be respectful, but to not just swallow whole the legalism that is easily and often thrown at us.  God is our ever-present Teacher and they can trust Him to show them the right way.  To get wise counsel, to seek wisdom, to study, learn, grow. That they won't always have the answers and it's okay to ask for help. To be themselves, passionately and well.

We've tried to teach them to think outside themselves.  To act justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly with their God.  To work to change the lives of the downtrodden and the forgotten.  To remember they are blessed so that they can bless others.

I pray we've taught them to love Jesus.

We did some things very well.  We really screwed up some things.  We encouraged. We yelled. We prayed.  We fretted.  We applied discipline appropriately.  We were way too strict.  We were observant and wise.  We were careless and missed important things.  

We loved.  

We love.

But we can't go back.  We can't change the mistakes we made.  We pray for them, encourage them, love them, coach them, push them, pray for them some more.  And sit down and let God be God.

They will do some things with glorious, trail-blazing success.  They will.

They will make mistakes.  Some of them perhaps big ones.  They will.  

God is God. He will love them through both success and failure.  He will offer second, third, fourth...chances.  he will redeem it all.

God is God.   I do not have to be.

I'm so thankful.

But I'm a mess.

Shut Up Already

What the dictionary says:

Gossip - n. idle talk or rumor, especially about the personal or private affairs of others; a conversation involving malicious talk about other people

Strife - n. 1. angry or violent struggle; conflict 2. rivalry or contention, esp. of a bitter kind 3. trouble or discord of any kind.

Slander - n. a malicious, false and defamatory statement or report

Defame - n. to attack the good name or reputation of, as by uttering or publishing maliciously or falsely anything injurious.

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What David and Solomon say: (and, while lengthy, please take the time to read them all)

Wrongdoers eagerly listen to gossip

Hiding hatred makes you a liar; slandering others makes you a fool.

I will not tolerate people who slander their neighbors. I will not endure conceit and pride.

I am attacked by people I don’t even know; they slander me constantly.

Do not spread slanderous gossip among your people.

A gossip goes around telling secrets, but those who are trustworthy can keep a confidence.

A troublemaker plants seeds of strife; gossip separates the best of friends

A gossip goes around telling secrets, so don’t hang around with chatterers.

They have become filled with every kind of wickedness, evil, greed and depravity. They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit and malice. They are gossips,

There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers.

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If it is so abundantly clear in the book we hold most sacred to our faith that God HATES this - why do we so consistently engage in it anyway?  There are probably other reasons, but here are a few I believe are true:

Insecurity - if I'm pointing out your faults, maybe others won't notice mine.

Revenge - you hurt me, so I will hurt you, by making sure everyone knows what you did.  If I am hurt, everyone else should be too, or at least they will know how much you hurt me.

Pride - my sin is minimal, insignificant even, compared with yours.

Manipulation - I can often get what I want out of a situation by tearing you down.

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I wish we could realize that the person we are gossiping about, or slandering, is often living in their own guilt and shame over their choices and actions - even when they don't act like they have any shame or remorse (they KNOW what they've done).  When we add to that by re-telling the story, embellishing, filling in gaps, exaggerating, often out-right lying, and spreading it to others - most of whom have no reason or need to know - we are driving them further away from right choices and better decisions.

This area has not been a huge stronghold for me, but it does seem there are always, in every season of my life, at least a couple of people that have either deeply hurt me or someone I love, or just rub me the WRONG way.  And in those circumstances, I find that it is sometimes easy to gossip.

I've begun to ask myself some questions before I speak:

1.  Why do I feel compelled to say this?  The answer is very telling.  It will often take me back to one of the reasons I listed above and will shut me up before I even begin.  The problem often lies, at least partially, with me.  That I can work on.

2.  Does the person I'm talking to need to know for this situation to get better?  The people that need to know is usually a very. short. list. 

3.  Would this problem be better resolved by talking to the person rather than about them?  If we would seek restoration and forgiveness, if we would clear the air quickly, with the people that have harmed us, the felt need to gossip would often dissolve on it's own.

4.  Would I care if the person I'm talking to told the person I'm talking about what I said?  Often, we feel it needs to remain a secret, perhaps because it's been embellished to the point of falsehood, we're hiding our own culpability in the situation, or we haven't yet attempted to reconcile with our "enemy" - we've just chosen to talk about them instead.

5.  Am I reflecting the character of God in what I'm about to say?  He calls us to forgive, He tells us to trust Him that He will take care of injustice.  When I react instead of trusting, when I hit twitter and facebook to tell the world how awful they are, when I tell everyone I know "something to pray about",  I'm showing others around me that God cannot be trusted to take care of me.

There are times we need to talk.  We need to seek counsel, we need to seek help or safety, we need to vent to the one person we can trust.  But so often that is not the case.  When I take the time to ask myself these questions first, I rarely need to continue speaking.

And one other thing I'd like to have the guts to do -- I want to have the guts to confront it where I see it.  To call it gossip when it's coming into my circles.  To say, "Do you mind if I tell them what you're about to say?" or "Have you talked to them about this first?" or "Is this gossip? Because it sounds like gossip."  I'm betting most of us would stop if we thought someone was gonna call a spade a spade...

So many are hurt.

So many are completely destroyed.

All to satisfy our own lust to feel better about ourselves.

We need to just shut up.  

We need to stop.

"Who may worship in your sanctuary, Lord?
    Who may enter your presence on your holy hill?...

Those who refuse to gossip
    or harm their neighbors
    or speak evil of their friends."

Gentle Reminders

I'll be up front here...

Life has just been kinda sucky lately.

I've felt a little like Eeyore.  A black cloud seems to hover over me - at least that's my perception.  I see the negative, cup half empty stuff.  I don't like that about myself, but I'm just being honest.

I can rock along for quite a while sometimes, coping, giving the big and the little stuff to God.  And then, sometimes, not so much.  Sometimes I just quit giving it to Him.  I carry it around, meditate on it, wallow in it a little.  It's not good.  It's not healthy.

But that's where I've been.

Ever have those times?

And one of the things I really love about God is that in the midst of my little pity party - when what I actually need is a good swift kick in the butt, He is still gracious - still good.

Mind you - He can and does sometimes just give the swift kick that I need -- but not always.

Sometimes - In the middle of my glass-half-empty mentality, He shows up with a fire hydrant and floods my cup with His goodness - forcing me to see the goodness, the fullness of Him.

Yesterday and today have been that fire hydrant of grace.  Nothing spectacular.  No fireworks or leaping tongues of fire.  But gentle reminders of his grace.

Sometimes that's all I need -- gentle reminders that He is still here, He is still working.  He has not forgotten and He has a good plan, even when I can't see it.  He's given many this weekend - one right after the other until I am utterly overwhelmed.  Brought to my spiritual knees.  Thankful.

Not knowing the plan is not the same as there not being a plan.  The glass really is full and overflowing.

So, I'm guessing not much is going to change in the circumstances that have led me to this darker place, at least not anytime soon.  But I'm thankful for the reminders that God is here - in the middle of it.

And it is good.