Fearfully Made: How Do I Live With Fear?

Motherhood comes with many things.  Love, awe, gratitude, patience, and selflessness.  These are the wonderful things I've grown in (sometimes begrudgingly) since I first set eyes on my own offspring.

But, something else that comes with motherhood is worry...and lots of it.  As my children grow, so do my fears.

It starts off small, checking on them while they are napping to make sure they're breathing; knowing where my phone and the nearest ice pack is at all times as they learn to climb; praying for them at school as they start to develop beyond my grasp.  And on and on.  Many of these things seem within my control, many of these worries are calmed by the illusion that I have the power to prevent them if I plan enough, work hard, and pay enough attention to detail.

Then I get on Facebook, or Instagram, or watch the news at all.  Turns out just about anything can kill us at any time.  I've seen reports about the dangers of flip flops for heaven's sake!  Articles about how babies get injured from this or that seem to inundate my newsfeed at all times.  Child abductions and horrible diseases become part of my regular checklist in praying for protection for my family.

And I am afraid.

Are these fears reality?  Am I crazy to be anxious about every little thing?  Is it okay to NOT worry about something, or does that make me an uncaring mother???

We can work ourselves up to the point of worrying about worrying and suddenly all the mothers I know are flooded with more anxiety than a chihuahua on Redbull!  WHAT GIVES?!

I can't take it anymore.  I am tired of being afraid.  I am over letting my joy be stolen by worry for things I do not have control over.  I am done with feeling the burden of fear when it is not mine to carry.

Psalm 139:14 (NIV) 

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

The word "fearfully" here does NOT mean that I live in fear of the world around me.  The word actually reflects fear in the sense of respect and reverence (i.e. "fear of the Lord") and a healthy acknowledgement of HIS sovereignty.  We were made to hand over our fears to God - in full acceptance that His works are wonderful and we revere His divine wisdom to act in His perfect will.  

1 John 4:18 reminds us that "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear..."so I can rest in God's perfect love for me, reflect that in my life through faith and action, and rid myself of the fears in this world.

We can't worry about everything.  We just can't.  (Trust me, I've tried.)  It's exhausting and impossible and futile.  But, we worship a God who has no need for worry.  Not only can He take on all our cares and concerns, but He extinguishes them and can help us steer clear of them in the future.

My big secret to driving out fear?  Focus on His perfect love.  

When I feel the lies creeping up on me (you know the ones:  You're not good enough.  You're ruining your children. You don't deserve this.) I take a deep breath and pray to the God who made me to hand Him my insecurities.  

When I feel the worries crashing down on me (all the what ifs! What if there's a shooter at school?  What if it's not just the chicken pox? What if, what if, what if...) I read the Scripture or sing a worship song and refocus my thoughts to truths that are steadfast regardless of what the day holds.

We live in a fearful world that's ready to amplify our worries if we let it.  But we serve a God who created the universe, and nothing is too major for Him.  

Yes, there are terrible tragedies that many of us will encounter in this life.  It sucks.  I hate it.  I do not belittle pain or grief or turmoil that we each experience.  But, my hope is that we can encourage one another to not let those fears control our minds, hearts, spirits, or actions.  

So, when you see that fear pop up in your newsfeed today - stop it in its tracks!  Text someone an encouraging word.  Hug your kid.  Kiss your husband.  High five a friend.  Take a deep breath and drive out that fear with the perfect love God has for you right now in this time and place.  

And take joy in the thought that you are wonderfully made. 

 

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Let this season go down in Pardy history known as "The Summer of Change".

As a counselor, I can't recommend more than one major, life-changing transition happening at a time.  As a wife and mother, however, sometimes you just have to eat your own advice and swallow what life dishes up!

My husband lost his job in July. We're expecting our third child in less than two weeks.  I finished my Masters degree last Friday.  My oldest daughter starts Kindergarten tomorrow.  

So, here we are all at once, changing jobs, changing schools, changing rooms, changing roles, changing laundry, changing careers, changing routines, and soon enough, changing diapers.  Like it or not, CHANGE is the new normal in our home.

To say my heart is in a whirlwind is sort of an understatement.  On one hand I find myself weary and weepy and frustrated and fearful, totally in doubt of a foggy future that has been so scheduled for the last two years.  On the other hand, I feel giddy and excited and nervous, like every day has the potential to be Christmas morning!  (Not to mention pregnancy hormones are in FULL swing!)

There's no easy way to have faith.

That much I've learned in my short time on this planet; and no matter how many times my faith is challenged and stretched, it hurts.  Sometimes its a good hurt, like yawning so big my ears pop or touching my toes (something I have faint recollection of!)

Other times, it's a knife to the back, or the stomach, or the heart...completely debilitating and potentially fatal to my progress.  But, no matter how much I bleed out, it's not the end.  I just usually need a transfusion of the mind and heart to keep me going.  I need to flush out my own thoughts and plans and once again rely exclusively on the Creator's calendar.

Last week, I closed out a chapter of my life I never though possible.  I earned my Masters degree in Marriage and Family Therapy.  There was a time in my life I wasn't sure I would ever get my Bachelor's degree, so to state this accomplishment is no small feat for me!  It still seems surreal, and I'm sure it will take a while to sink in that I don't have any more homework for the rest of my life!

Tomorrow, my oldest daughter starts Kindergarten.  She's excited and scared and a living example of all the emotions swirling around inside of my soul right now.  She's a feeler to say the least, and an expresser that puts my own transparency to shame.  The five-year-old lack of filter keeps me poignantly aware that she's standing on her own precipice just waiting to see what comes next.

Faith is my favorite oxymoron.

It's ugly because "having faith" means I also have the doubt necessary to need the faith in the first place.  It's beautiful because it functions regardless of my fears, fully dependent on the unchanging mercy that God continues to pour into me.  It's irrational, forcing me to live with expectation I have no evidence to hope for.  It's everything that keeps me going when nothing is giving me reason to charge ahead.

What changes are you going through in life right now?

Change is rarely comfortable.  Even when it's planned for, it usually comes with pains of progress or frustrations found through the process.  But, our unchanging God can do so much more through our changing souls than He ever could allowing us to remain comfortable and stagnant in our growth.
Deep breath.  Exhale.

Okay, change.  Bring it on.  Ready or not.  I freely abandon my own understanding and embrace the irrational courage that faith has to offer me in this insane season of life.  Lord, help your peace overshadow the anxieties I have, and help me and my family as we welcome the plans and timing you have for us!

Can I get an AMEN?

One Year Ago...

I'm stressed out.  I'm worried sick.  I'm constantly doubting.  I keep myself awake at night concerned over making ends meet, paying off debt, putting food on the table, keeping my kids alive/well/healthy/happy, and maintaining a faithful front that believes above all else that my God is bigger than it all.  (Anyone relate?)

How far have I fallen?  How short is my memory?  How foolish is my soul?  How flimsy is my courage?  How flailing is my trust?

One year ago today, my family traveled 2,000 on hope, faith, and the prayers of many.  We left the home, friends, and work we knew to start a new life across the country.  We packed up all of our belongings, tearfully hugged goodbye the family that surrounded us, and made the big move from California to Tennessee.

One year ago.

Can you believe it's been a year?  I can't wrap my brain around it.

We didn't have a job.  Really, we didn't even have the prospect of a job.  But, I was enrolled to start grad school last August, so the clock was ticking for us to start planting new roots in a soil rich with mystery.  We had been called to a new life...and God provided.

After a few months of unemployment, living off prayers, credit, savings, and the gifts of many, our prayers changed from "God, provide a job" to "God, thank you for providing what we need, when we need it".   The words of Paul had never seemed so clear:

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.    Philippians 4:12-13

And, God was remarkably faithful, even through our trials of doubt and fear.  He did provide what we needed when we needed it, as He deemed fit, and we are so grateful.  Josh did get a wonderful job, after four months of unemployment, and it couldn't have been more perfect for him.  As we settled into our new state, we look around us and are amazed and bewildered at God's provision in our lives.  These are the moments I am reminded that I simply don't know how people live without Jesus.  I, for one, couldn't have survived it.

Yet, here I am, a stressed out sinner, roaming my own desert like a blasphemous Israelite too shortsighted with inconvenience to remember the Jehovah Jireh that has far from forgotten me.  SOMEONE HIT ME OVER THE HEAD ALREADY!  I'm a spoiled child that's scared of an unknown future, with no record of a past that gives me any evidence to support such fear.

So now, in my disbelief, I turn to the Scriptures of Paul once more:

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:4-7

Do you have doubts? Fears? Insecurities?  I know I'm not alone in this.  There are some days that the need overwhelms the faith and I wonder how it could possibly work out.  And then, I remember back a year...just one of the many examples of God's pure, unchanging faithfulness in my life journey that shows me clearly how I am not forgotten, how I'm NOT in control, how this life is not mine for worrying.

Stress has a way of stealing from present joy.  It exacerbates all concerns and burdens me more than reality.  And, the reality is, the truth is that God is bigger.  God is present.  God is able.  GOD IS, so I don't have to be.

Peace and thanksgiving be with you today, friends.  Thank you for your incredible support over the last year as our family has transitioned through so much.  God has great things for His children, and I'm grateful for the vulnerability to share my journey with you - the gift of a growing faith is fragile and often ugly, but I'm blessed to show you an honest heart amidst the doubts, and the unchanging Word of God that proves beyond all reason that God cares.

Whatever your journey today...rejoice.

B-A-N-A-N-A-S

Parenthood is bananas.  B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

You start off with a little, tiny, innocent, sweet baby who depends on you for every little need who, within a blink of an eye, turns into an egocentric, chattering, maniac who demands your attention incessantly.  Don't get me wrong, I chose and choose this lifestyle every second of every day...but, it's not without its chaos (and inevitable anxiety).

I like bananas.  I mean, they're fine.  They don't make me gag, and they don't make me swoon. Bananas aren't my favorite fruit and I'd prefer them sidling my ice cream rather than topping my cereal, but that's just me.  But, my window for eating a banana is very ripe-specific.  I utterly despise green bananas, and anything bruised or brownish is just gross.  But, a perfectly timed banana that peels seamlessly and has that subtle, soft-but-firm ripeness about it is exactly right.

I know, I know, not even monkeys talk about bananas this much.  But, stay with me.  Parenthood is bananas.

Parenthood is full of perfectly ripened moments.  Times when your child hugs you for no reason.  Moments when you catch your little ones making each other giggle.  Occasions when you catch your breath at the thought of them being your own flesh and blood, and your heart aches with love for them so bad that you nearly miss them even when they are in your arms.

But, then there are the bruises.  The smooshy, yucky times that feel rotten and leave you with guilt and anger.  There are green times when you feel so new at this whole game you wonder how anyone has ever survived it before you.  These are the ends of the parenthood spectrum no one prepared you for, and you just can't imagine how you ever signed up for such a battle.

But, the reality is, I can't just take the perfect moments of parenthood without the yucky ones.  I don't get to hand-select the hugs without having to put up with the tantrums.  As a parent, there are days when I'm in constant battle with myself debating whether I truly think the blessings outweigh the frustrations, and I'm numbed by the debilitating, question no parent ever wants to admit they're thinking: Is it worth it?  

Guys, parenthood can be SO HARD, right?  Like, filled with frustrations so paralyzing that you just want to drop everything and take a time machine back to the good-ole-days when you could sleep in until noon and watch TV in peace.  And, in that fantastical moment of daydreaming life-before-children, I'm reminded how different I've become through the few years I've lived in this process we call parenthood.  And I'm the better for it.  Period.

To ask whether parenthood is worth it or not is literally asking whether life is worth living.  You don't get to "create your own adventure" like we may have imagined in childhood.  You don't get to only experience happiness, prosperity, and peace.  That's not promised in this life, and it's not attainable, nor should it be pursued.  Ideals in life can help motivate us, sure; but they can be dangerous plumb lines for gauging expectations.  It's the whole of life that truly makes each moment beautiful.

The crushing minutes of my day are the ones that mold me the most.  How I deal with the craziness, how I allow myself to be shaped by the opportunity to love well and forgive and be patient...these are the times I am growing the most into who I am meant to be in the next moment.  Parenthood is made up of a million moments of failure, followed by glimpses of the grace of Jesus, and rewarded by fleeting moments of utter joy.  The rest is all growing pains.  Ripening.  Progress.

Don't wait for the perfect moment to embrace the whole of parenthood.  You never know when the messiest of times might end up being the sweetest.

Dèjà Vu

The packing has begun!  How is it possible that I am sitting among boxes and bubble wrap again!?  It was only 8 months ago that we reduced our household to a 16 foot moving truck and traversed 2,000 miles to start a new life in a new location...and now, we're packing again!

I'll admit, there are about a zillion ways in which this move is easier.  For starters, we're only moving about 2 miles away instead of 2,000.  And most of all, we're not bidding a tearful good-bye to an entire lifestyle and community of people and places we hold dearly in our hearts.  I'm soooo glad I (please, Lord) never have to do that again.

But, as we settled in to our little abode, we've managed to accumulate plenty of stuff that now has to be sorted, piled, boxed, and moved.  The process of carrying our life two miles down the road is more annoyance than anything else.  Lucky for me, as a mother of two little ones, I've been mastering the art of inconvenience for a while now.

After weeks of explaining that "packing up and moving" did not equal "saying goodbye to the life you know" to my daughters, we're finally on an upswing of understanding what this stressful time is all about.  This is all a MAJOR UPGRADE for us, and one that kind of blindsided us suddenly with an avalanche of blessing.  While we're not gaining much square footage, we're adding a big yard (fenced!) to our lives, as well as an additional room that will promptly be turned into go-yell-and-scream-in-there-and-play-until-you-drop-toyland space.  Yes, I can't wait until my girls get their little play room (which means that yes, they will still be sharing a bedroom.)

All this to say, our lives have been turned a little upside down for the time being, but in a wonderful way.  The chaos reminds us that not only do we not know what the future holds, but we don't know what blessings are around the bend either.  God is always working behind the scenes for our good and His glory, and I don't want this crazy time to distract me from the fact that this is a ridiculous GIFT that I can't wait to use however God allows.

I'm praying for God to really show us how this home and space can be used to benefit others, how we can appropriately and cheerfully get to know our neighbors, and for God to reveal how this whole shebang fits into His plan for our life as a family.  Buying a house was surprisingly one of the least stressful events of my life, and I never thought something so major could go so smoothly.  Clearly, God has plans for this move that are bigger than anything a Medium Uhaul Box could ever contain.

I'm placing our belongings into boxes, taping them up, awaiting the move this weekend that will forever shape the course our family takes.  But, as I sift through our stuff, I want to remain focused on the unseen, and I pray that this process helps mold me into the homeowner that represents more than someone who just pays a mortgage each month.  I don't know what all is in store for us in our new little neighborhood two miles down the road...but, one thing is for certain.  It's not the distance travelled that changes your life, it's the willingness to be moved that makes the difference.

Move me, Lord.

Purge

Well, it's that time of year again...when I notice a drawer getting a cluttered, a pair of pants I never wear, and before I know it I'm in full-fledged purge mode, cleaning out the closets of all the things we don't need that's taking up space in our home.

The other day, I realized my four-year-old outgrew almost every pair of pants she owned.  This seemingly happened within a span of two weeks, her little legs just shot right out and within days she acquired an all-capri wardrobe that sent her ankles shivering in this wintry season.  How did that happen?  Upon buying her some longer pants, I was soon to find other ill-fitting clothes hiding in my daughter's dresser, and so began the task of clearing out and handing-me-down my girl's apparel.


Half-a-dozen trash bags later, all our closets had been lightened.  I have to say, having just moved across the country 7-ish months ago, I'm amazed at how much superfluous accumulation we had taken on within our 900 sq. ft. apartment.  Yes, the girls had rightfully outgrown a bit of their clothing, but Josh and I had our fair share of giveaways as well. T-shirts I just never wear, pajama pants that have an annoying drawstring, a shirt that shrunk in the dryer, a jacket that hasn't been worn in seasons...you get the picture.

The great "toy purge" is always my favorite - getting rid of all those ridiculous knick-knacks that somehow go from this-will-shut-my-kid-up-at-the-moment-necessary-survival-item, to junk in the span of only a few days.  McDonald's toys, stocking stuffers, puzzles with missing pieces, baby stuff they've lost interest in...it all adds up to a pile of someone-else's-treasures that get sacked up and ready to deliver to Goodwill (or the garbage bin, depending).

Ah, there is always a wonderful sense of pride and relief when I shove all that "extra" out of my home. While some of the items get passed on with nostalgia and feelings of sadness (I just can't believe my baby outgrew that sweet kitty jammie onesie, it was soooo adorable and now she'll never wear it again!) I take a deep breath and embrace the new freedom of what is to come.  I know new "things" and new "items" and most of all, new memories are always right around the corner.

Purging my house of unnecessary stuff also got me thinking about cleaning out more than just tangible junk.  What am I hanging onto inside that is simply just taking up SPACE?  Am I used to familiar worries or concerns or desires that have no bearing on my life right now?  Are there things I need to kick to the curb and move on from so that I can better use that mental space to store up new items like patience or grace that I could really, truly put to good use?

This got me thinking, and I'm still thinking and praying about it.  What is there to get rid of?

That residual guilt I have for leaving my girls in the care of someone else, even though I know there are times when it is absolutely the best thing for both of us in the moment.  That should go.  Ah, but that guilt feels so necessary - I wear it so well, and I think I might need it to keep me feeling okay about doing what I'm doing.  Really?  Nope, it's got to go.  Lord, help me replace that guilt with grace and strength.

What about that approval I need from others to feel like I'm going above and beyond in balancing my work and family?  Maybe that should be boxed up and sent away for good.  But what if someone thinks I'm not doing the right thing?  And it feels good when another person looks up to me.  I like other people's approval.  But, do I need it?  Do I wait for it in order to make decisions or be inspired?  It needs to be let go.  Lord, help me to seek your guidance and inspiration and remember that only You're approval matters in my life.  Help me replace that approval with genuine motivation to serve well.

What about you?  Hanging onto unnecessary clutter in your heart or mind that is just taking up useless space?  Maybe it felt good a long time ago, or maybe it even served a valid purpose when you needed it...but, can it be let go?  Can you join me in asking Jesus to replace that void with peace, grace, or kindness?

Purging isn't easy.  It's messy and emotional and it conjures up all kinds of memories and dirt that makes me want to rent out a storage unit with unlimited space.  But, limits are vital to thrive in this life, and they can be put to beautiful use when I ask God to reorganize the essentials.

Now, that's what I call real relief.

Out on a Limb

The other day I wrote about "passion" - that overused term that we all sort of cringe at because we think our true calling might still be beyond our grasp.  As a grad student, I read a lot.  It's not just the amount of reading that I have to do that sometimes makes my eyes itch and my brain swell...but, it's the content too.  While I (freakishly) love just about everything I'm required to read, it's not breezy stuff.  We're talking hardcore, mind-numbing literature that (for a chronically slow-reader like myself) makes me stop and glare at the letters on the page and wonder how I ever found my nose stuck in the middle of a giant textbook labeled Advanced Psychopathology.  Yikes!

But, one of the great things about my diving into all these scary texts is that once in a while I stumble across something that just has to be shared to the masses...something that you would never in your life (most likely) happen upon in your own daily reading routine or local book club (that is, unless your book club has a hankering for self-help or maybe lost a bet and is now obligated to read about Family Therapy.)

All this to say, as I was reading the book Doing Family Therapy, Second Edition: Craft and Creativity in Clinical Practice by Robert Taibbi, LCSW (ah, now you see why you will never stumble upon these words by accident) I read this passage regarding finding one's calling, and I thought it was too beautiful not to share.

I hope you enjoy this refreshing and inspiring view of finding purpose in your work...

This is work that flows from the inside out, rather than from the outside in, work that soaks in all of who and what you are.  It is work that goes beyond the boundaries of a "good job" with its means to other ends, or the "career," that track that we follow to some ultimate level or publicly recognized as success.  This is work as a calling. 

While the notion of a calling conjures up the sound of celestial choirs and beams of radiant light falling down on you from above, it most often begins with only a whisper of some inner voice telling you that this is something you should do, the flicker of an image across your mind that gradually, over time, grows into a vision that pulls you forward.  A calling is realized when you step back form what you are already doing and sense that this work is something htat you are not only good at, but were meant to do.  You have found a medium for expressing who you most are.  Like the artist, you become caught up in the flow of the work, you can lose sense of time, you are absolutely engaged.  You do the work not because of what you might get for it at some time in the future, but because of what the doing does for you in the present... 

If you are able to live this way, to wait and listen, then go to work to make your inner and outer life mirror to each other, then your life is filled with gut-sure honesty, with true integrity.  It will be a differently life than the carefully built one that keeps discovery locked away, that sets its marker early on and moves steadily forward.  To bring faith and discovery and honesty into your life, into your work, is to walk out on a trail on a crisp morning following the sound of the hawk flying above rather than the painted sign on the tree.  You may suddenly find yourself sitting out on a limb or looking over the edge of a cliff and not know why or how you got there.  You may look down and feel afraid, but if you look inside you will find courage; if you look up, you will see visions.

Isn't that awe-inspiring?  I wish I wrote it myself - but, I'm so glad to have read it! Who knew therapy textbooks could be so eloquent, right?  I hope that shed some light on your own calling and I pray that God will continue to reveal to each of us how we can better use our skills for His ultimate purpose.

Have a great weekend everyone.  Find the courage and keep looking up.

301

This is my 301st blog post.  When did that happen?!

I don't know whether that number seems impressive to you or not, but I can tell you one thing - I never saw it coming.  When I started PARDYMAMA about 4 years ago, I was sitting in a cubicle, bored out of my gourd and looking for an outlet.

I would peruse the internet in between tasks like every other red-blooded American out there, and I read a variety of blogs, all having been established for years and very clear with their message, voice, and content.  When I would consider starting up something of my own, the idea was always quickly devoured by insecurities:  What did I have to say?  Who cared?  Would anyone read it?  Do I have time for this?  What if people hate it?  Am I even good at this?  And so forth.

It began sloooowly, and I would still consider it today amidst it's "early stages" though it's clear to me now that it won't be ending any time soon (a foggy option that I have probably considered a dozen times or more in the first couple years).

I started writing simply because it was 1) something to fill my time, 2) a creative outlet for me, and 3) what I needed.  How much I needed it, or even why was still beyond my grasp, but it wasn't long before my habit for writing grew into a full-blown addiction.

I struggled for years to seek out a real "passion".  I had a plethora of interests, I had a shallow-yet-diverse scope of talents to choose from (jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none, so to speak).  And yet, I wrote and wrote with no neon signs pointing me towards a clear goal of achieving anything of grand significance. I wrote for myself, about myself, and primarily continue to do so today.  My writing process has always consisted of three simple steps:  Ponder, Pray, Publish.  That's it.  That's my magic formula.

I see many friends grapple with the notion of finding a "passion".  And, in today's "gotta-be-somebody" world, this overused term can paralyze the most gifted of hearts and minds.  The pressure to feel valued in a singular talent or to find the majority of your life's satisfaction within a mere resume of feats is altogether disillusioning to any normal human.  We are all pretty good at a lot of things, but very very very few of us are spectacular at a solitary task.

Toss out the word "passion".  Just crumple it up and curb that sucker.  Instead - take inventory:  What do you spend your time doing?  Why?  We live in chaos and stress ourselves out over the mundane chores of the day, but when we can step back and look at our routines we might start to find some consistencies, some patterns that we find we simply can't live without.

This is life, this is what you are alive for.

I was living my life's "calling" for years before I stood back and appreciated it for what it was.  I was just being me, being honest, following Christ as best I could, living out the process that it takes for me to function and improve and fail and need and seek and find and start all over again.  And 300 blog posts later, I still fight the same old insecurities I did from day one.  I still have obstacles that get in the way of my calling.  And as much as I need and love to write, it's still work for me.  Nobody ever tells you that about "passion".  No one ever says "it's what you're best at, but it just might kill you".

Let go of the pressure and pray through those insecurities.  Keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other, and let us encourage one another in the plight against passion and instead seek out the beauty of the patterns that make us who we are.  Let's ask God for the continued grace to give us the opportunities to live out our lives in the way He deems best, worthy of the hard work it requires from our weary selves.

Stop looking for your passion.  You're already living it.

Classy Mama

Now is the time to look back on the year that has been and start considering the new year to come.  Questions and doubts and fears may arise.

Thoughts such as, What exact life choices have I made that have led me to manically reheat my morning coffee eighteen times before I finish a full mug? Or, When is the last time I have peed at my own pace without being disturbed or answering someone's question by yelling through the door?  Or, a favorite of mine, How exactly did I end up eating leftovers huddled over the kitchen sink so that I didn't have to wash an extra plate?

Real classy stuff.

If any of these precious notions have entered your own brain, rest assured - you're in good company.

Too many times, multiple times throughout my day in fact, I find myself questioning how in the world I ended up in the life I'm living.  It's not a regrettable thought process.  I'm not droning on and on with complaints or groaning and grumbling (well, I have my moments).  But, I'm just amazed at how vastly different my day-to-day life looks compared to what I may have thought 5 or 10 years ago.

Parenthood is different for everyone, but if I've learned one thing in the last several years, it's this:  all parenting is HARD.  It's a ridiculous amount of work that is exhausting and rewarding and we are pressured into thinking that it is always, always, always worthwhile.  I mean, it is (right?) but knowing that we're raising the world's next difference-makers doesn't make the fact that they just hit their sister or are screaming Disney song tunes at the top of their lungs any easier to bear.

PARENTING IS HARD.  It require unreasonable patience, insurmountable compassion, and unattainable energy that no one can dare prepare you for.  The other day I was thinking how no one in the universe would become a parent if they truly knew what they were getting into.  And, then I realized what a perfect scheme plan God had in designing it that way.  God knows we will fully love, fully suffer, fully engage, fully dread, fully give give give to these little people that we fully took part in helping create...and it's an incredible, tangible way for God to REACH US as humans.

So many times (as I nibble my pizza leftovers into the sink) I feel like God is shoving opportunity in my face that I am frustratingly choosing to either take part in or step back from.  Matilda bursts into tears over Daphne taking her toy and I can a) Scream at Daphne and give Matilda her toy back b) Yell at them both to be quiet c) Put someone in time-out d) Throw the toy away e) take a deep breath, look my children in their eyes and explain the concept of sharing AGAIN and talk them through the reconciliation in a calm and civil manner.

Clearly E is the best choice.  If only life were a multiple choice test that I could willingly step back from and fill in the answer to in a quiet setting (never before did I long for such tranquility as sitting and taking an exam) then my children would have the mother I hoped to give them.  You with me???

But, life is not to simple.  Life is disastrous and loud and obnoxious and I fill it with more mistakes than I'd like to admit.  Sometimes I just want to eat my cold lunch in peace and AWAY from the critters that hang on me.  That's okay.  We all need a moment (lots of moments).

There's several habits I'd love to break in the new year (less TV, more dinners at the table, less frustration, more gratitude) but, most of all I just want to expose the fact that HEY - WE ARE TRYING and most of us are raising normal, wonderful children who are acting like blithering monsters half the time.  These are the difference-makers of tomorrow, and it's okay that their mom reheats her coffee yet again because she was busy cleaning cat vomit off the Christmas tree skirt.

As you ponder your resolutions for the new year, won't you join me in extending a little extra grace to yourself?  Part of being a parent is not being perfect.  Part of being a human is needing Jesus.  I have to remind myself of this constantly, and it helps me make it moment by moment.  These times are going to slip away quickly, I don't want to waste any time faking it as a mom.  Keeping it real is keeping it classy when it comes to parenthood.

Survivor

I did it!  I survived finals week!  [cue "Eye of the Tiger" here]

I have officially completed my first semester of grad school, and I can hardly believe it.  I'm 1/6th a Master!  Ha.  And I'm genuinely looking forward to my brain shriveling back to its normal size over the next three weeks.  Siiiiiigh.

Last week was RIDICULOUS.  It was one of those weeks where I was literally expecting to turn on the news and hear that there were asteroids headed towards Earth because that was just about the only thing left to go wrong in my little world.

While juggling the usually bowling balls of raising two kids (ages 4 and 2), working seasonal nights at the mall, and completing my Finals (one massive project, two papers, another semi-massive project, a video assignment, and a weekly online discussion board assignment), I barely had time to sleep, let alone cook or clean or make sure I had applied deodorant that day.


I expected a few things to go wrong during the week.  I mean, even on a good week I will forget to put the milk back in the fridge or let my daughter wear pajama pants all day or totally not remember that I left the clothes in the dryer (a week ago).  But, this was no typical week.

saddest thumbs-up ever

First, the weather was NUTS.  It had just been 75 degrees a week ago and so we went to the zoo for the day.  The next day, it dropped 30 degrees and the clouds shielded us from any sunlight.  I had spent hours (here and there) getting our 2013 Christmas card together over the last few weeks, and JUST finished writing out the last address.  Eager to get them out before they got destroyed or lost inside my home, I set them out by the mailbox as usual (under our overhang which is reasonably protective) and took my girls to Target to run an errand.

At Target, I nearly lost Daphne TWICE.  She would wriggle out of her cart-straps, and BOLT.  The girl was like Seabiscuit, rounding corners and shrieking down aisles at the top of her lungs.  By the time we left, it had started pouring cats and dogs, and we raced out to the car without an umbrella.  We were soaked!  I was exhausted by the time I got home, and my heart SANK when I came home to this:

wet and wrinkly Christmas cards

It had POURED in the timeframe we were gone, and my Christmas cards were drenched.  I had to spend the next hour hand-blow-drying each one so that it was salvageable.  Thank goodness, they were.  Whew.

Then, Saturday was the real kicker.  I finally had a calm morning with no where to go.  My husband was hanging out with my brother, so it was just me and the girls, curled up to watch "Curious George Christmas".  My youngest was extra snuggly, so I thought "Ah, she is calm - perfect time to trim her nails."  Simple enough, right?

I'll cut to the chase (no pun intended).  New clippers and flailing baby hands don't mix.  I knew when she screamed it was not just a knick.  Half-a-roll of paper towels later, I could still not get her thumb to stop bleeding, so I announced to my four-year-old "This is an EMERGENCY!  Go get dressed!  We have to take her to the doctor!"

Matilda has never impressed me more.  She jumped up and ran upstairs, explaining to our cat the whole time how "This is an emergency.  Don't worry!  Daphne will be okay, but I need pants!  I have to go so she can see the doctor, okay?"  Quick as a flash, she was downstairs and helping me get out the door.  I was still in yoga pants and slippers, but who cares?!  I wrapped Daphne's hand in paper towels and secured an glove over the top of it.  By the time we got to the ER, the blood had soaked through the glove.  It was just about the worst feeling of my life.

The nurses were quick and very helpful.  The bleeding stopped not long after we arrived and the wound revealed itself to only be superficial - no stitches or glue necessary.  Hallelujah!  It was bad enough I maimed my own child, I couldn't bear the thought of her getting minor surgery because of it.  Good heavens.

They cleaned and dressed the wound, making it as baby-proof as possible so she couldn't pull it off.  Matilda danced and sang and entertained us all so that we could have a happy distraction while we waited.  God bless her sweet and spunky spirit.  I'm so grateful for her care and encouragement, and it was a wonderful reminder that her craziness can be used for good and not only for being a naughty, frustrating, four-year-old.

Last night, I peacefully wrote the last paragraph of my last final of my first semester of grad school.  And that was that.  I survived the week.  Rain, shine, blood, sweat, and tears.  Maybe this last week was really just a beautiful, messy, symbolic representation of what the entire Fall has been.

It was quite the grand finale.

TBT: 50 Shades of Marriage

Now that the movie for "Fifty Shades of Grey" is all abuzz, I'm re-posting this blog for ThrowBack Thursday.  I'll admit I was rather hot-headed about the issue when I originally wrote this post about 18 months ago - but, I stand by my every word below.  I don't really care whether you read the book or see the movie - I care about your thought-life, your marriage, and your focus on what nurtures your life and your marriage.  We have far better things to focus on within our REALITY than anything fantasy could ever offer.  

Original post:

Chances are good that by now you have heard about the book "50 Shades of Grey" - either on a talk show or on Facebook or even from a friend or neighbor.  I heard about it on the Today Show, and was pretty appalled to hear that this new, sleazy series has swept the globe with such popularity.  They are calling it "mommy porn"...erotica that women evidently don't have to be ashamed to keep on their nightstand for the world to see.

Well, here at pardymama, I try to walk the line of airing my opinion whilst remaining compassionate in judgment.  I'm not here to say "don't do this or that" - I'm far from being your Holy Spirit.  But, it is my blog and frankly, I get to write what I want about whatever I want, so here we go...  Personally, I will not be reading "50 Shades of Grey".  Not only does it kinda gross me out at the thought of putting descriptive words about S&M in my head, but I have no desire to seek out sexual escape that reaches beyond my marriage.  That being said, feel free to judge me about making a judgment about something I haven't and won't take part in.  Fair enough.

So, why am I even writing this post?  

Because, I'm seeing crap about this stupid book everywhere.  And, what I find most troubling is the sense I get that so many women are desperate for an outlet beyond the boundaries of their bedroom, their marriage, and their every day life.  We're not talking about your usual mental escape either...this is not to say that every form of entertainment is worthless or without merit.  I enjoy a good story, a great movie, an uplifting read just like the rest of us.  But, certainly you can see the difference between watching Dumb and Dumber on a Saturday afternoon with your husband (albeit, no merit for the intellect) and losing yourself in some pornographic trilogy about a sadist millionaire.

This is what I'm saying:  as Christians, as wives, as mothers...red flags should be popping up on our radar when so many women are seeking fantasy.  This is dangerous stuff, wildfire even.  It's not that "50 Shades of Grey" is the problem...it's what it represents.  The popularity of such material just showcases the fact that "maybe something better exists out there" - a tease at our fantasy world, an escape from our life of burp rags and dish gloves, an outlet away from our husband who forgot to pick up the gallon of milk.

Fantasy for women is very emotional, and leaves us heartsick at the notion that either we aren't good enough to be worthy of a better life, or resentful at the fact that we deserve more.

Entertaining thoughts of a better life than the one God has given us stirs in our souls a belief that is nothing more than a downright lie:  "I'm missing out".  If you don't believe me, just ask Eve...you can start at Genesis 1:1 and go from there and give me a call when you get to the good part.

So, I'm here to say, guard your heart.  This isn't about sex.  This isn't about a pop-culture-phenomenon-book they are talking about on Entertainment Tonight.  This isn't about "but, Emily, you don't understand...my husband is so blah blah blah".  I understand there are hurting marriages out there, and there is actual, tangible help available for you to heal and find God's BEST for you.  But, to the majority of us - be wise and aware to the warning and quick to question whatever "fantasy" that you might partake and what it may actually be rustling up in you.

Maybe, it's not so much that you need a new partner as it is you need a new perspective.  

Remember when you first started dating your husband and you just felt like he was your entire world?  As your marriage grows and your love deepens and your kids start eating into your time together, it is amazing how roles in relationships change.  Sure, there is the mundane - the fact that my spouse is the handyman and the trash man and the tech geek and even the kitty litter changer.  But, he is so much more than that.

The next time you are tempted to wish for a new life or a different spouse, I want you to remember that God has given you a man who is a perfect fit to fulfill all the roles you need him for in your life together as a married couple.  In other words, it's what I like to call:

50 Shades of Marriage

1. Helper
2. Partner
3. Teammate
4. Lover
5. Comrade
6. Companion
7. Sweetheart
8. Co-conspirator
9. Accessory
10. Collaborator
11. Paramour
12. Flame
13. Darling
14. Dear
15. Beloved
16. Admirer
17. Treasure
18. Heartthrob
19. [the] One
20. Biggest Fan
21. Encourager
22. Defender
23. Follower
24. Champion
25. Cheerleader
26. Ally
27. Spouse
28. Compadre
29. Kin
30. Associate
31. Counselor
32. Better Half
33. Ball and/or Chain
34. Helpmate
35. Peer
36. Friend
37. Playmate
38. Bedmate
39. Sidekick
40. Accomplice
41. Complement
42. Date
43. Crony
44. Chum
45. Buddy
46. Rib
47. Steady
48. Aide
49. Supporter
50. Soulmate

What more could you possibly want?

Smarty Pants

So, today I am stepping way out of my element.  I'm teaching an undergrad Psychology class about Ethical Dilemmas this afternoon.  Whhhaaaa?!

Yeah, I wouldn't have put this on my bucket list, but now that I'm doing it (even if it is just a one-time thing) I feel like I should place "Teach a college class" on the list just so I can cross it off!

I have never taught a class.  I think the closest I've come is helping out in a youth group or speaking to college girls as an RA (back in the day!)  But, today, I'm walking into a classroom full of students who will look at me with apathy in their eyes and think "I hope this old lady shows some YouTube clips and talks fast."

Well, hope-of-our-future, you are in luck - I will be showing many YouTube clips and I do speak rather quickly.  I'm not going to change any lives today (I mean, that's not in my powerpoint anyway) but, today's experience will change my life.

These students have no idea that this is a big moment for me, that it is adding a new feat to my resume, stepping out of my comfort zone to talk about a topic I really have barely scratched the surface on myself, and putting on my smarty pants to act like I'm the most knowledgeable person in the room.  (Ha!)

Being back in school has catapulted my desire for learning.  Turns out, I'm a major geek when it comes to topics I really enjoy learning about.  WHO KNEW!?  And, I have a new motivation for making sure I present intelligence as a foremost strength for my daughters to witness and want to imitate.

Why is it so hard for women to own their intelligence?  It can feel so daunting and uncomfortable to say things like "Mommy loves to learn! Mommy is smart!"

Like, am I setting the bar too high for them?  What if I'm really not that smart?  What if they have a hard time learning?

Worries are normal, especially when it comes to raising kids!  But, when I really start to think through those doubts, I quickly realize how insecure I can sound.  Maybe all those things have a grain of truth to them, the expectations and hopes that I have might be very ideal.  But, the alternative is not an option.

Not only do I want my girls to see me being a strong, confident, smart woman...but I want them to see that I'm challenging myself, overcoming doubts and taking risks.  I want them to see that it's a struggle, that I have worries, that I pray through so so so many of my weaknesses and therefore become stronger because of them.

Maybe this is the only class I'll ever teach.  Maybe I'll totally blow it and lecture the entire time with food in my teeth.  Maybe I'll be amazing and inspire another girl to become a therapist (hey, I can dream big!)  But, it's true what they say about the "teacher learning the most in the room"; and, today, I've learned what it means to make sure my girls know they have a smart mother.  

Smart women encourage others to be smart.  Own it!  Live it!  And, let's raise daughters who grow up to teach their daughters that learning never ends.

Keep it Simple: Confessions of a Mult-Tasker

Women are known to be superior multi-taskers.  Mothers are the super-human versions of the ultimate multi-tasker, wearing multiple hats that help them meet the needs of others, their home, and themselves.

This morning, my 2-year-old woke me up at 4am.  I heard the "click-clunk" of her door opening and her little feet pattering in hall coming my way.  I got out of bed, met her at the doorway, and scooped her up in my arms.  She didn't say anything, no crying or whining, and she simply melted into my neck as I breathed in whole hunks of her whispy hair that still smelled of sleepiness.

Who knows what woke her up?  A bad dream, a strange sound, or maybe just restlessness had prompted her to crawl out of her crib at an ungodly hour and come find comfort.  Either way, she just needed her mama.

I rocked her in my arms a bit before returning her to bed.  I swayed back and forth, stroking her hair and rubbing her little back, remembering the hours I would spend doing this when she was but an infant.  I am so grateful for these times when my being provides everything that is an answer to her needs - I know it won't always be so simple.

In my weariness, this sweet moment made me nostalgic, and I thought to myself - Oh how I wish I could only be a mother.  I laid my sweet baby in her bed and snuck quietly out of the room, miraculously not waking her sister laying in the toddler bed only a foot away.  I went to go back to sleep, and spent the next hour pondering the sadness of my nostalgic thought.

Then, it occurred to me:  What if I gave myself the freedom to just be a mother? What would it look like to just let myself do that?  I don't need to be everything all at once all day long.  I can't be.  Why am I trying to be, for goodness sake.

I'm wearing a lot of hats these days.  As a wife and mother, a writer, and a grad student, I often feel like I'm working three full-time jobs with no pay.  My days are filled with the hazy lines of where one part of me ends and the other begins.  I find myself increasingly frustrated with not being able to "find balance" or multi-task beyond my capacity.

When I first became a mother, I had three glorious months of maternity leave.  I stayed home, stared at my baby, and knew it was a sacred time in my life that would be short-lived.  It wasn't "easy" by any means, but it was simpler and such a special time in my life that it needs no romanticism to be remembered as lovely.

When I returned to work, I had a new schedule that included working from home one day a week.  This started off fine - as my newborn slept on and off throughout the day and remained immobile in her swing or bouncy seat while I did the work I needed to do.  However, as my baby grew, so did her needs; and it wasn't long before I yearned for the separation between work and home as I chased my crawling child, made a phone call, attempted to nurse her, and answered emails all at the same time.  It was crazy-business, and it made both jobs SO much harder.

Here I am again.  I have two kids who I desperately want to engage with.  I have the luxury of being able to stay at home with them and be with them.  And I am constantly allowing myself to be bogged down with the pressures of work and school that are all vying for first place in a mental race inside my head.

I'm needing to re-establish some serious boundaries in my life.  I'm realizing that motherhood is the only job that doesn't allow for you to tell others "I'm sorry, can't you see I'm working right now?  That will have to wait."  If I was sitting in a cubicle at a computer, I would never expect another employer to walk up to me and ask me to mop the floor while I was sitting there.  See what I mean?  So, why am I expecting myself to be able to work for multiple "employers" all at the same time?  I'm just being a bad boss if that's what I expect.

I need to let work be work time (even if it's at 5 in the morning like today), let school be school time (even if it means watching less TV), let couple time be couple time (oh yeah, I have a husband I adore), and let mommy time be mommy time.  I want to want to be there for my kids.  I'm tired of letting my other (albeit important) tasks interrupt the focus of my life.

I needed to be reminded that life can be simple.  It can be me, holding my child, just swaying and praying, and that is more than enough to take up all of me in that moment.  I'm praying now for God to help me be able to establish clear lines of how to appreciate it all, but not feel like I need to do it all at once.  I'm called to be a wife and mother, a writer, and a grad student at this time in my life.  This season is not as simple as I might have once thought it would be, and maybe you know how this feels too.

How many jobs are you trying to do at once?

If you're like me, then it's rare that you just hold your kid and only be a mom for a moment.  I'm always thinking ahead to the next chore on my list:  what emails need to be sent, what chapters need to be read, that project I'm presenting, that paper that's due soon, what blog should I be working on, that article I'd like to write, those contacts I need to connect with, that phone call I should return. those library books that are overdue, the milk that's running low, the meat I forgot to thaw, the oil change that my car needs, the birthday card I have to get, that check I need to mail, etc. etc. etc.

Welcome to the mind of a woman, right?

How did my life get so crazy that I'm trying to juggle all these things at once!?  (And I'm guessing your life is no less crazy - we each have our own version of juggling mayhem!)  I remember learning to juggle tennis balls in gym class.  I was never very good at juggling, but one thing I do know is that when you learn to juggle, you don't throw all the balls up in the air all at once - you'll only watch them all fall down in chaos.  But, if you keep your eye on one ball at a time, you can get into a rhythm that allows you to focus on each one of them in their given time.

I know I can't always keep the boundaries from intersecting.  Sometimes I will have to stop swinging my girls and take a phone call.  Sometimes I'll need to put my kids in front of the TV so I can cook dinner or write an urgent email.  And sometimes it will be a great example for my girls to see that their mom loves what she does by using the gifts that God has given me and why it's important to work hard.

But...most times...being a mom is the only thing I need to be for my kids.

They don't need me to be a student, or a writer, or a great cook, or a perfect housekeeper, or a super hero.  I can't juggle it all on my own, and I want my girls to grow up knowing that I didn't!  I have a supportive team and a mighty God who is here to keep me in line and encourage me along the rocky road of life.  And, I have two sweet daughters who gave me the (literal) wake-up call to remember how simple it really can be.

[Time to put the computer away.  My mommy shift is about to start.]

TBT: Crazy Pills

Today's TBT post is from April 2012...

Pretty often, maybe even daily, my husband and I will be watching our children, blinking hard past our exhaustion and find ourselves once again asking the same question we asked the day before: How do people do this every day?

Parenthood, that is. I mean, is it this hard for everyone? Are all parents just sitting in a daze all wondering if everyone else is wondering if it is this hard for them too?

The other Sunday, we were once again in the "wiggle room" with Daphne (8 mo) while Matilda ran amuck in nursery for the morning. While everyone pretty much keeps to themselves quietly, trying to absorb the lovely church service through the 45" plasma hanging on the wall, one can't help but observe others and their children. There was a sweet nearly-2-year-old girl just playing quietly while her mother nursed a new baby. They looked happy, well-rested and calm. Were they thinking the same thing about me?

I ran into the same mother in the restroom later, as we both changed our baby's diapers, and we quickly exchanged the names, age and birth experiences of our new daughters. Even though, by the end of our sharing, I found myself envious of her 1-hour labor story and sleeping-through-the-night 7 week-old (are you freaking kidding me?)...I still shared a mutual sympathy for her efforts. I think there is always an understood sentiment felt between women once they are ushered into the club of motherhood, and I felt that for her in this moment. That, even though I wanted to shout "You have it so easy!" I still could see the frazzled look in her eye, the worry in the tightness of her lips, and the nervousness in the intensity of her grip on her new baby that told me - she is still struggling to do the best she can just like me.

My children sleep so little that you would seriously

think I was filling their bottles with coffee.

We parted ways a bit awkwardly (as many encounters in the restroom can be) and I could tell I was headed in a different direction than she was. I didn't know how to end this conversation that went from "Aw, cute baby" to "how far were you dilated" in split seconds and now was curiously making its way back to normal-people-status. Uhhh. I wanted to say "It gets easier!" and leave her with one sturdy ounce of encouragement to make it through the next hour...but, literally, in that moment, I thought Does it? Does it get easier? I don't want to lie to this poor soul! It gets different, but so far it does not get easier! So, instead, as I was walking out the door, I turned awkwardly and just said "By the way, you look really great!" The end.

Yes, this was my awkward encounter with a strange new mother in a church restroom. But, you know what? She smiled. Mission accomplished. The next time you see a new mother in a frazzled state or looking discouraged...don't tell her it gets easier. Don't tell her to enjoy the moment or nap when the baby naps. Just tell her she looks fantastic and walk away. We need that. It's probably the one thing you could say that doesn't get old hearing.

So, this whole parenting thing - will it get easier? Let me narrow down what I'm talking about: exhaustion. Lack of sleep. Life progressing around you in a blur of picking up toys and cleaning spit-up. Surviving in warp-speed of tripping over laundry and get yet another meal on the table. Being. Tired. All. The. Time.

Am I taking crazy pills? Am I the only mother who is sitting here thinking "I really don't think other people understand"? Surely, not. So, then, are their children equally crazy? Do their children incessantly yell at them and demand their attention until it ends in a fit of rage and tantrum kicking? And then, of course, the next SECOND later the same children are smiling and saying "I love you mom-mom" and asking to read Cinderella again and SUCKING you back into that deep vortex of love that makes you want to buy them ponies and make home-baked-masterpieces that you only drool over via pinterest???

I see posts all the time of moms complaining/venting about how their kid won't sleep or eat or behave, etc. But then, I read further and find out that their baby woke up once during their 3 hour nap...and my head spins at the thought of having such a luxurious amount of time to fill with whatever I might choose. My children sleep so little that you would seriously think I was filling their bottles with coffee. Sigh. So, does that mom understand me? Does she look at me and envy that my toddler will eat her green beans? Does she read my posts and think "this crazy loon doesn't know how hard my life is!"?

Yes. Yes to it all. We are all taking crazy pills.

We are all exhausted in some area of parenthood somewhere, I just have to believe that. We are all trying to raise productive little souls that will be kind and grow up to make their own nutritious breakfast every day and not become serial killers who won't remember when Mother's Day is. We all wear clothes we have to wash and eat food we have to fix. We all work jobs that don't pay enough and drive cars that break down too much. We all have friends who we don't deserve, both good and bad. We all have crazy families who offer terrible advice and not enough help. We all are fighting The Man, the traffic and bad breath.

We will make it.

It may take a lot of coffee, even more prayer, and a crazy lady in the church bathroom telling us we look great to get us through one more day...but we will. We are parents. We are awesome.

Now, take two more crazy pills and call me in the morning. Cause trust me...I understand.

Nature

The other day, a new friend of mine asked if I'd like to meet up to go hiking early one morning.  Immediately, I dismissed the idea, thinking to myself "Oh, I'm NOT a hiker and I'm NOT a morning person".

Then, I thought about it for a second.  The timing would be great - up and gone before anyone else even woke up in the house.  Cool morning air, a little huffing and puffing in the middle of nature, soaking up the bright new day.  Hmm, maybe this did sound appealing.  Who am I to label myself with such stringent restriction?

Maybe every day hikers wouldn't consider me a hiker - but, couldn't I hike?  Maybe every day early risers wouldn't call me a morning person - but, couldn't I get up early and enjoy it?  You bet!

I freely admitted to my friend my novice-status and soon enough, it was Saturday morning and I was lacing up my sneakers before dawn.  Being out in nature - dirt, rocks, trees, birds - was even better than I remember.  The two-and-a-half mile hike went by super quickly, as good company and getting-to-know-you conversation betters any experience in my book.  But, I never would have done it if 1) I wasn't invited and 2) I stepped outside my box.

It's not really in our nature to step outside our comfort zones as humans.  We get comfortable and settled into our routines and perspectives; and, normal life doesn't offer enough opportunities to push us much beyond our boundaries.

It wasn't in my nature to get out and enjoy nature.  Maybe it's one of those nature-versus-nurture moments where we have to stop and nurture ourselves towards going against our normal flow.  It wasn't a big deal - so what, I got up early and hiked a few hills? - but, it was enough to remind me how important it is for me to do things like that.  Do things that I don't consider "me".  

What can you do this week to step out of your nature?  

How can you redefine labels you may have placed on yourself?

I probably won't turn into a nature-loving-every-day-hiker any time soon.  I definitely want to get out there more often and appreciate the air and land that God created that I so rarely stop to observe.  But, no matter what, I want to be intentional about always trying new things, always stretching the boundaries of my self-labeled-box just enough to explore new aspects of who I am.

It might not be in our nature to lean towards the uncomfortable, but we all have the ability to nurture each other; whether that's reaching out to new friends, encouraging new adventures, or exploring the nature of God through the creation that's all around us.

More

Since moving to Nashville just a couple months ago, our time of "settling in" hasn't been the easiest.  We knew it would come with challenges, but we could never have anticipated some of the craziness we've encountered.  While my husband's job search continues (prayers appreciated as always!) we have started to hit a stride of "normalcy" in settling into our new home.  It's a great feeling!

As I was laying in bed a few nights ago, I did what I usually do when I can't fall asleep:  I counted my blessings.  This has become an effective "default" for me to turn to in the wee hours of the morning, always helping me focus on the goodness and faithfulness of God instead of the worries that too often plague my thoughts at such a vulnerable hour.

Just as I was telling God how especially thankful I was for my daughters, that they are both healthy, and sound asleep in their beds, my heart began to swell with gratitude.  Indeed, we do have much.

Then, I began to pray for a job for Josh.  Again.  I mean, I can't tell you how many times I have to surrender this request to God throughout the day. 

 

Please, please, please Lord, please use his talents in work that would bring you honor and please let someone call him soon with an interview, and please let it be the perfect job for him!  Please!  

Right then, right in the middle of my appeal, a voice of doubt interrupted with, "Who are YOU, to be asking for MORE?  How can you list all that you've been given and then ask for MORE?"  

I paused for a moment.  

Then, in what I can only describe as a "Holy Ghost moment" a new thought, armed with the truth of Christ, refuted with authoritative clarity:  How? How can I ask for more?  Because I worship the GOD OF EVERYTHING.

Whoa.

I was stopped in my tracks right then and there.  Peace rushed over me as I continued my prayer to ask God for a job for Josh.  And then, I just laid in bed and pondered the truth that was spoken through me.  

I worship the God of everything.  He isn't just the God of things that go well.  He isn't just the God of healthy babies, sleeping husbands, and safe apartments.  He isn't just the God of my school work and good weather.  He isn't just the God of my gratitude.  HE is the God of MORE.

When you worship the God of everything - it's okay to never run out of requests.  It's not only okay - it's awesome!  He wants you to come to HIM for everything.  

My doubts and frustrations and worries can interrupt my focus so many times.  There's plenty to distract me from the truth that God is in control and hasn't forgotten about our needs.  But, the reminder that I worship the God of everything is, indeed, ALL I need.  It certainly helped me that night as I drifted off to sleep.  Turns out, the armor of God makes for pretty comfortable pajamas.

Ephesians 6:10-18New International Reader's Version (NIRV)God’s Armor10 Finally, let the Lord make you strong. Depend on his mighty power. 11 Put on all of God’s armor. Then you can stand firm against the devil’s evil plans. 12 Our fight is not against human beings. It is against the rulers, the authorities and the powers of this dark world. It is against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly world.
13 So put on all of God’s armor. Evil days will come. But you will be able to stand up to anything. And after you have done everything you can, you will still be standing.
14 So stand firm. Put the belt of truth around your waist. Put the armor of godliness on your chest. 15 Wear on your feet what will prepare you to tell the good news of peace. 16 Also, pick up the shield of faith. With it you can put out all of the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Put on the helmet of salvation. And take the sword of the Holy Spirit. The sword is God’s word.
18 At all times, pray by the power of the Spirit. Pray all kinds of prayers. Be watchful, so that you can pray. Always keep on praying for all of God’s people.

Lightness

Last week I wrote about how my family was feeling under spiritual attack.  We walked through our home and took turns praying over the various spaces of our home.  Spiritually, it felt like we were sweeping out the cobwebs of despair.  It seemed discouragement was lurking in corners we hadn't yet uncovered, and only the name of Jesus could clean out the crevices unseen to us.

Yes, there is something mightily creepy about all this.  I'm not denying the "creep factor" here at all.  It should be creepy.  Satan is real, and as bad as it gets.  The fact that he exists at all should render a constant creepster-hair standing on the back of all our necks.  Yikes, right?

I might just avoid the subject all together if it didn't effect me...but it does, and it will, and there is an answer.  And, so avoidance is not only impossible, it's futile.  So, we fought back.  We prayed.  We continue to pray.  I can have nights riddled with nightmares that have no founding except the evil that would love to keep me up worried at night, doubting the power of my God.  Then, my husband speaks the name of Jesus over me, or I pray aloud and ask for peace.  And peace comes, peace is available, peace is always there right in the midst of the cloudy chaos that surrounds me.

Life is a series of steps through light and dark.

Here's the truth, right after we gathered and paraded around our apartment praying like southern preachers preparing for a revival...a burden was lifted, and a lightness entered our home.  Personally, I was so amped up that I kinda felt like a kid who just walked off the bus from church camp.  God was real, and present, and the power of the Holy Spirit was part of the Pardy home.

Guys, I'm not really into "hyper-religion" or "super-spiritual" or "pentecostal apocalypse" happening around me all the time.  I don't speak in tongues or heal people.  I tell the truth.  I'm normal (even a little boring) and honest.  That's it.

So, believe me like you'd listen to your best friend telling you about the latest sale at Nordstrom when I say this:  Prayer has power.

I've loved Jesus for a long time.  I've been talking to Him for years now, and I still don't exactly totally absolutely without-a-doubt completely understand how prayer works.  I know God hears me.  I know He can relate and speak back to me.  I know He cares.  I know He interacts and intercepts and interrupts me when I need it, regardless of what I think I need.  I know prayer can change feelings and futures.

That's enough for me to know to get on my knees and keep being honest with God about all my thoughts and questions and desires and fears.  That's more than enough.

And, this new lightness in the Pardy home...well, it's hard to describe.  "On paper" nothing has changed since last week, really.  Daphne is feeling better (thank you, Lord) but, a job is still on its way and not in our grasp, we still have the same struggles as last week.  So, it goes without saying that technically we should be feeling just as discouraged as ever.  But, we're not.

There's a new lightness among us.  There's a divine presence of protection that we're constantly interacting with.  It's okay if this post weirds you out a bit.  It's also okay if you go home and pray aloud over your furniture and invite Christ to be part of your literal, tangible, everyday life.

Tomorrow, I'll move beyond furniture and share with you how the prayers of people are making a difference.  This lightness is extending far beyond the Pardy home...and I hope it finds you today.