Houses and Hearts

I can see that I struck a chord (or hit a nerve?) in sharing about my FSS.  Sometimes I wonder if I go too far in putting the details of our (not-so-pretty) lives out there for all the world (or the handful of you who read this stuff!) to see.  There is motivation in it, though, in that one day I'm going to put pictures up of the progress we've been able to make. "The Eye of the Tiger" is playing over and over in my mind for some reason.  It makes me feel strong. Tonight will be brief, because I have enough dishes to wash by hand that it looks like I fed Cox's army-they were set aside last night in order to tackle some of those surfaces!  But I must get to them tonight.  I also want to keep going on my mission.  But first I wanted to share one of the reasons I was nudged into action; you may want to get a box of tissues ready. I like to blog-hop.  I read random blogs every now and then, and a few blogs very regularly.  I enjoy seeing what other people are up to, making up voices for writers I don't actually know, knowing I'm not the only mom/wife out there who is trying hard and not always getting it right or done.  Plus, there are some really funny people out there, and I love to laugh. One of the bloggers I visit is a Compassion International sponsor.  We sponsor two children through World Vision, but I think they are similar organizations as far as their goals for meeting needs as well as sharing the Gospel and offering hope both here and now, as well as eternally.  Compassion International has had teams of bloggers going out and "reporting" back on their experiences, giving a great deal of exposure to the situations they are dealing with/trying to make better, as well as to the sweet, beautiful faces all around the world of those who are suffering in poverty but are living joyfully because of their hope in the Lord.  Back to the blogger I like to visit...she has a link in one (probably a couple) of her posts to the Compassion bloggers' website, which then links you to personal websites of the folks who went on any given trip.  The link I'm sharing here is to a woman who went to India, and her story, and more significantly the story of the girl she meets, is compelling, touching, heart-breaking, and inspiring.  Please take a minute to read this post. When I read that, I was stunned, shamed, and chastened.  I have complained about our homes, especially the last three, because they did not meet my standards in various ways.  I have spent countless hours watching T.V. (when we lived in Louisville, because Mike traveled a lot, the kids went to bed early, and it was company), reading (when we first moved to Texas, because I was depressed and wanted to escape into the world of Les Miserables, The Princess Bride, The Brothers Karamozov, and The Secret Garden), and cruising around the internet as well as keeping up our blog.  The hours spent doing all of these things could have been spent managing my home, preparing for school lessons, preparing to move, unpacking boxes-depending on whatever our situation was at a particular time.  I always apologize to whomever comes knocking at our door, invited or uninvited, because it is always a disaster.  There are pajamas left on the floor; breakfast dishes on the table; magazines, toys, books, papers, and really random stuff on the coffee table or the end table in the living room.  These are habits that should be easy to change but somehow I haven't done it.  I am teaching my children the wrong way to live in and take care of a home for they will undoubtedly follow my example rather than my verbal directions if there is a discrepancy between the two.  And there is. I don't want to beat myself up, because I know that won't help.  Instead I want to change, to be a good steward of what we have, and to have a home that honors the One who provided it for us.  The One who has always provided for us.  The One who gives such joy and humility to those who are already humble that they can give their guests the best that they have to offer with no shame. Now when [Jesus] saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, and he began to teach them saying: "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 5:1-10 (So much for being brief!  And I didn't even touch on the whole subject of ministering to those in need...)

FSS

One of the many conditions from which I suffer is FLAT SURFACE SYNDROME. Does this affliction plague anyone else?  The symptoms manifest themselves in a variety of ways, but always include items that belong somewhere in particular, but end up on top of a flat surface which is not the actual somewhere that they ought to go. And there they remain for an indefinite but definitely too long period of time.  Most likely they remain because it is easy to leave the items in their present though incorrect location.  There are distractions which lead those suffering from this condition in other directions, in order to tend to more urgent things.  There are the daily tasks which must get done, like dishes or laundry or bathing the children, and so the items remain aliens in a strange land, pilgrims on a long journey that seems like it will never end. These things do have homes, though.  And I am determined to help them find their rightful places and bring peace and harmony to our house as things are set to right. There are the mild cases...

and there are the extreme scenarios...

We have bookshelves...

tables...

 

and countertops...

(The two above examples fall into the extreme category, because they are both hiding behind something else and therefore not prominent, making it even easier to ignore the items; here I would like to enter a plea of unpacking incompetence, by which I cannot be charged guilty in the true sense of the word, and through which I may buy myself a little sympathy as well as time.) These areas are always a source of great irritation, but they can also be an interesting study in human psychology.

How does one end up with a dead cell phone, a watch, a remote control, a lid to a sauce pan, a coaster, a change sorter, some earrings, some Stitch Witchery, and a little Mexican hat all in the same spot?  Don't forget the lotion and the baseball cards. I'll tell you how...it's the path of least resistance.  Or the easy way out.  Or the lazy alternative to following through and putting things where they belong.  It is unusual in that this is both a key cause and symptom of FSS and is almost impossible difficult to treat in many cases. I will be honest with you.  I waffle daily, hourly even, between feeling terminal, hopeless, incurable, and feeling as though a big change were coming, the time is ripe, the time is now for a new way of living.  Tonight I'm feeling the change.  I'm motivated.  I've already got one surface cleared off, and I'm working on a second. I think I'll go with it!  I'll strike while the iron is hot!  I'll make hay while the sun shines!  I'll just do it!  I'll see how many clichés I can use in a single post. Wish me happy putting-things-away!  (We know how this often turns out, as represented by my putting-away-clean-laundry problem...so I really need support here, folks.)

There Is a Theme Here

Just recently Mike shared some comments and in those comments he calls me "a loving, sacrificial, and gracious wife and mom."  He goes on to say,"I am glad that Jesus embodied the truth that our relationships are not built on merit, or our own plans for them, or our ability to fulfill such plans, but on the kind of love, sacrifice, and grace that he shows to our family through you." Now, I share these words not because I want to show you all how wonderful my husband thinks I am...but in order to say that the truth is that he is the sacrificial one, loving and gracious, selfless and serving.  One week ago we had a birthday party for Christian, and he spent a great number of hours hunting and gathering for this event.  My one job was to do the cakes; he took care of everything else (my mom and I did run to one party place for a few things, and he did the rest).   He pretty much ran the party, while I stood around looking dumbfounded and feeling overwhelmed and greatly respectful of Kindergarten teachers in particular; he made sure the games were being played in orderly fashion (well, as far as that possibility goes when 20 children are running around like tasmanian devils with their tails lit on fire); he cleaned up almost all of the party paraphernalia and trash and then offered to load everything up and bring it home. (I want to do a shout-out to my mom here, because, Mom, you are not being overlooked-she was on call for all manner of things, and set the tables at the party, and filled the goody bags, and watched over Eliana, and helped clean up, too.  Then she took Eliana for a walk in her stroller when she was already tired so we could finish cleaning up.  I love you, Mom, and I'm so glad that you were able to be here and I wish you and Dad could move here and live with us.) After dinner, bath, and bedtime (which is all a blur to me) we were left with quite a disaster in the kitchen and dining room.  I honestly cannot remember the way the rest of the night played out.  I have no idea what I did.  Eventually I went to bed, and when I woke up I saw that Mike had cleaned up the dining room and kitchen, handwashing most of the dishes, the cake stand, and the clay jelly roll pan from Christian's sheet cake.  All of these things under normal circumstances would be so sweet, they took so much time and he has a very long to-do list that he set aside for the day in order to focus on Christian and his party. What makes it extra special, and makes me want to tell everyone how great he is, is that it was his birthday.  He was 33 years old on April 28.  But he never said a word about his own birthday, he received no cake of his own, and I didn't even get him a card (I did sing him a fabulous happy birthday song in a message on his cell phone...I'm sure it made his day).  We all sang Happy Birthday after dinner (I think!  It was sometime after the party.), but that was it. He would say it's no big deal, and he would mean it.  But to me it is a big deal.  I see it as one more example of how he strives to do things that will make these important people in his life happy.  And one of those people is me-he goes to great lengths to make me happy, and I am a hard person to make happy. Mike and I have our ups and downs, like most couples do.  We can be on the same page one minute and the next minute we are the poster children for Men Are From Mars and Women Are From Venus.  But I am so grateful for all he does for us and for who he is for us.  He provides calmness, stability, and compassion when I am ready to fly apart.  He is wise in so many situations in our family circumstances when I feel like I am still a child and unable to think well about the situation at hand.  He gives of his time when he doesn't have it because it's important when I want to crawl into bed and sleep or sit at the computer and fiddle around.  He washes his hands or changes his clothes when he can see that my OCD is ruling over me and making it hard for me to handle the fact that he just loaded the washing machine or came home from a ballgame. When I say,"How can you put up with me and all of my tomfoolery?", he says,"I would do it all over again."  He tells me that he loves me. What can I say?  He looks at me and he tells me that he loves me and it amazes me every time.    Here is a man who committed himself to a woman that turned out to be a nut instead of a jewel.  But when life gave him a nut, he made peanut butter.  I don't know what that means.  What I'm trying to get across here is that I appreciate this guy.  I love him, too.  He's my companion; he's my friend; he's my jelly.

The Well Will Not Run Dry

Welcome to where it rains every day, and it's balmy and green-the tropical rain forest in...Dallas? It has been pouring here for days.  Today (Sunday) is the first day since Tuesday that the heavens weren't blessing this dry and barren land with mucho agua.  I'm sure the area needed it badly, and I like the atmosphere of a stormy day.  I like the swirly gray sky, the dark yet bright green of the grass and trees, the sound the wind makes blowing through leaves, the growling thunder, and the way the lightning suddenly flashes, brightening the room for a second or two; I like listening to the rain on the roof, rolling down the sides of the house, pattering against the windowpanes; I like watching the kids color quietly as they listen to all the sounds of the storm, comfortable and safe in our home. Yesterday we were out and about just before a major thunderstorm passed through town.  When we arrived at our house, it was overcast, but it quickly went from slightly cloudy to dark as night-it was 3:00 in the afternoon. While storms outside wreak havoc and leave disasters behind, they are also the cause of great disasters inside... Actually, the kids were very good and had a great time "inventing." I'm not sure what new stuff they came up with, except a new mess to clean up.   You would have thought someone shot a duck in the living room; feathers were everywhere. After that initial darkness came the torrents of rain. So much water came down in a matter of minutes that the cars driving by crashed through giant puddles and sent enormous waves up their sides. The rain and the low light that comes from the hiding sun make such beautiful greens. The thunder carried on for quite a while, and once it was so loud I jumped in my seat.  Eliana would run over and say,"Boom, boom!"  She didn't know whether to laugh or be scared.  She did fine, though. Sometimes we wish the rain would go away, especially if kids are involved and everyone is stuck inside all day (or several days!).  I know it's hard for me to come up with organized and productive things for the kids to do (which is why they drag a whole bunch of crafty materials out and glue feathers and glitter all over fingerpainted paper) and often there is the distinct and imminent possibility of mutiny.  Yesterday happened to be a good day, without a great deal of fussing or boredom.  It was a chance to be quiet and busy, an opportunity to be together even though we had no specific agenda.  And the rains came to nourish the earth and give life.  In Deuteronomy 32, verse 2 says,"Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants."  I'm taking this moment to listen to the reminder that I need that life-giving nourishment that comes from above, the teaching that we have so available that it pours down like rain and showers us in abundance.  I should never complain that I am thirsty; if I am it is because I am sitting on my bucket next to the well, wondering how I'm going to get that water out.

Departure

My mom left tonight, in the pouring rain-her flight was delayed two and a half hours!  She was so exhausted when she got home, and she has to get up at 5:30 tomorrow morning to go to work.  Poor woman!  And that's after whipping me all week long into shape working VERY hard around here for one solid week.  She didn't stop.  And now I have walkways where I didn't before.  And corners where I used to have fancy cardboard towers.  And a pretty island where I used to have an old table piled high with the little rubber feet for our metal bookshelves, lunch boxes, a package I was supposed to send her when she left last month (also full of pistachios that were spilled in it in the car before I sealed it up), toys, tools, and clean laundry. She folded a lot of clothes while she was here.  And she put them away.  I must find inspiration here! I miss her.  Eliana was walking around this evening, around dinnertime, calling,"Gramma!  Gramma?!  Wh'are you?"  She would step forward with one foot, and crane her neck around the corner, looking for Grandma.  But she has left the building. Christian cried almost all the way home from the airport.  He wished that she could have stayed longer, and that Grandpa had come too, and that they didn't ever have to leave.  It is hard to be away from family. Tonight, however, I am taking a lot of comfort in the fact that our God watches over all of us, and has connected us with a bond that is stronger than Gorilla glue.  Seriously, we cannot even fathom how awesome and good He is, but we get little tastes of it.  I pray that I will savor those "bites."