Every day we drop our son at school and we leave him to his teacher and to his friends. Every day I pick him up. I park across the road from the school, he and his little mate cross the road carefully at the teacher/student controlled crossing and then run along the path until they find our cars. Every day.
Every day I expect to see my son again. It never crossed my mind that I wouldn't. Until now. I am glad that its the holidays now. Because even though the most recent mass shooting in the US is thousands of kilometres away from where I live, I can't help wondering whether it could happen here.
Rationally, I tell myself that it wouldn't. Its not a common thing in our country to have mass shootings, I think there have only been a couple in my lifetime. Its unthinkable that it would happen at a school. We have tighter gun laws. Virtually all of my friends don't have guns. The odd one might have a gun licence, a couple know how to shoot and go hunting but that's it. We don't have the "right to bear arms" mentality that seems to still be so prevalent in the US. Sure there are gangs and people with guns in my community where I live but I've never had a sense that they'd be targeting schools.
I can't imagine what the parents are going through right now, the ones who have lost their kids. If one of mine died it would be like someone had ripped my heart out. I don't even like to think about. When I became a parent I realised what love truly means. I'd walk through fire, I'd stop a bullet. I'd do anything it took to keep my kids safe... but I don't think I'd ever pick up a gun.
It seems to me, as a completely outsider, that something has to change in the US. Guns aren't actually safe. They are dangerous. Children can get hold of guns and hurt themselves if nothing else. When you get people able to buy ammo online and people with actual serious mental health problems being able to obtain guns, and serious types of guns at that, then its time to really evaluate whether restricting gun ownership, the availabiltiy of weapons and the types of weapons is more common sense than infringing on civil rights. Guns really shouldn't be used against other people.
Children have a right to be safe in their schools and homes. People have the right to be able to go about their daily business without the fear that someone is goign to shoot them dead. That is a civil rights issue, to be able to go freely about your life.
I don't think the idea that everyone carrying a concealed weapon would help. Because in all seriousness, most normal people wouldn't go and shoot a few people because they were having a bad day. Those who do go and shoot a whole bunch of unrelated people are usually pretty unwell. Most of the time they kill themselves in the process. I don't think that knowing that they are likely to be killed would stop them. Maybe its what they want? Who knows. But no, that argument seems to be a weak one to me. People who decide they are going to shoot a whole bunch of people don't care that they might die. They are that separate from themselves and their humanity that it won't make a difference to them who dies.
The only thing I can do from here is pray. Pray for those precious, innocent children who died today and for those who saw it happen. Pray for parents who are passing empty rooms tonight. Pray that somehow, this will make the people of the US look hard at themselves and the legacies they want to leave their children. That those in power will put aside their political ambitions and look carefully at the long term impact their decisions are having on generations of people. God, be there. Be with those in grief. Be with them.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Sad
Sometimes things are just sad.
A week ago we discovered a friend had died of cancer. We'd kind of lost contact over the last few years, hearing only things from others, and even those closer, hadn't heard for a while. She and her family had been part of our community for just a year, 5 years ago. In that time they became part of us. They connected, they joined, they served and they celebrated. In that time they demonstrated the love of God as they welcomed another adopted child into their family. They shared their lives with us.
And then we found out she had died. A beautiful Mummy of three gorgeous children. A loving wife. An athlete. Her children, a bit older than my own, doing all their 'firsts' without Mummy there. A Dad trying to be all things to everyone.
Last night we had a memorial service at church. We were able to share the eulogy her husband wrote, reflect on the short time they were with our church community. We were able to learn some of her journey in cancer, to how she fought it every step of the way with the loving support of her family. We were able to share our own memories. For me it was that we were both waiting for our babies at the same time and a few days before Caitlin was born, they picked up their little girl from an orphanage in Taiwan. Christmas babies for everyone.
And I feel sad.
There is hope of course. She is with God, of that I have no doubt, and I know she didn't have any doubt either. One day, her family will be together. God has been with her and her family throughout this whole journey and it won't stop now either, they will keep on keeping on.
But its still sad.
I think sometimes its okay to just be sad. Really, there isn't anything good about dying of cancer leaving a young family behind. I think sometimes Christians can be a bit too quick with the glib responses, that somehow we should be less sad when something terrible happens? Is it really better that a Christian woman dies than a non Christian does? I don't think so. Because any unexpected or early death is sad. Sure we can hold on to the certain hope of eternal life but its a life we don't fully understand. It is some comfort but it doesn't hide the fact that when a child wakes at night and wants their Mummy, all they and their Daddy will be thinking is "she's not here" and it makes things even sadder. I see the look on my babies face when he sees me, I am his world, it hurts to think that her children have lost theirs.
I think I am also sad because it brings up my own secret motherhood fears.. what would happen if something happened to ME. I know that it would all work out. It would be heartbreaking and hard but my family would have the love and support of so many. But its still sad to think about.
I am sad because I regret not keeping contact. I regret not calling her more or not sending a letter. I wish I'd known more about what she was going through so I could have prayed for her and her family through the whole ordeal, not just in the aftermath. It reminds me how important it is to be connected with people. Sometimes we can't do anything FOR them but we can still be 'there'. Being there in prayer and in love. Holding onto them in a virtual way. I got a bit annoyed the other day when I didn't know that someone close to us had gone in for surgery and no one had told me the day it was happening. Sometimes the only thing I can do is pray for someone... or maybe bring over a lasagne. I can't always drop everything and run like i'd want to when something happens... my family juggle means that there can be up to three people involved in just sorting out the afternoon schedule if hubby or I aren't available. I am thankful that I can call on some people to help out if needed... like last night, going to the memorial service meant numerous phone calls, texts, messages and things to find someone to watch the kids for an hour. Huge thanks to the special person who was able to help because there are some things I just have to do and saying farewell to my friend was one of them.
Sometimes life is sad. And I am not going to feel bad about feeling sad because I think its okay. I remember how Jesus wept when he saw Lazarus was dead. I remember how he begged God to spare him from what was to happen that first Easter... I think Jesus understands what its like to be sad.
Godspeed my friend. Maybe your children always remember your love. May they continue to laugh. Be at peace. I hope there are some awesome marathons in heaven for you. I think you'd love that. Arohanui.
A week ago we discovered a friend had died of cancer. We'd kind of lost contact over the last few years, hearing only things from others, and even those closer, hadn't heard for a while. She and her family had been part of our community for just a year, 5 years ago. In that time they became part of us. They connected, they joined, they served and they celebrated. In that time they demonstrated the love of God as they welcomed another adopted child into their family. They shared their lives with us.
And then we found out she had died. A beautiful Mummy of three gorgeous children. A loving wife. An athlete. Her children, a bit older than my own, doing all their 'firsts' without Mummy there. A Dad trying to be all things to everyone.
Last night we had a memorial service at church. We were able to share the eulogy her husband wrote, reflect on the short time they were with our church community. We were able to learn some of her journey in cancer, to how she fought it every step of the way with the loving support of her family. We were able to share our own memories. For me it was that we were both waiting for our babies at the same time and a few days before Caitlin was born, they picked up their little girl from an orphanage in Taiwan. Christmas babies for everyone.
And I feel sad.
There is hope of course. She is with God, of that I have no doubt, and I know she didn't have any doubt either. One day, her family will be together. God has been with her and her family throughout this whole journey and it won't stop now either, they will keep on keeping on.
But its still sad.
I think sometimes its okay to just be sad. Really, there isn't anything good about dying of cancer leaving a young family behind. I think sometimes Christians can be a bit too quick with the glib responses, that somehow we should be less sad when something terrible happens? Is it really better that a Christian woman dies than a non Christian does? I don't think so. Because any unexpected or early death is sad. Sure we can hold on to the certain hope of eternal life but its a life we don't fully understand. It is some comfort but it doesn't hide the fact that when a child wakes at night and wants their Mummy, all they and their Daddy will be thinking is "she's not here" and it makes things even sadder. I see the look on my babies face when he sees me, I am his world, it hurts to think that her children have lost theirs.
I think I am also sad because it brings up my own secret motherhood fears.. what would happen if something happened to ME. I know that it would all work out. It would be heartbreaking and hard but my family would have the love and support of so many. But its still sad to think about.
I am sad because I regret not keeping contact. I regret not calling her more or not sending a letter. I wish I'd known more about what she was going through so I could have prayed for her and her family through the whole ordeal, not just in the aftermath. It reminds me how important it is to be connected with people. Sometimes we can't do anything FOR them but we can still be 'there'. Being there in prayer and in love. Holding onto them in a virtual way. I got a bit annoyed the other day when I didn't know that someone close to us had gone in for surgery and no one had told me the day it was happening. Sometimes the only thing I can do is pray for someone... or maybe bring over a lasagne. I can't always drop everything and run like i'd want to when something happens... my family juggle means that there can be up to three people involved in just sorting out the afternoon schedule if hubby or I aren't available. I am thankful that I can call on some people to help out if needed... like last night, going to the memorial service meant numerous phone calls, texts, messages and things to find someone to watch the kids for an hour. Huge thanks to the special person who was able to help because there are some things I just have to do and saying farewell to my friend was one of them.
Sometimes life is sad. And I am not going to feel bad about feeling sad because I think its okay. I remember how Jesus wept when he saw Lazarus was dead. I remember how he begged God to spare him from what was to happen that first Easter... I think Jesus understands what its like to be sad.
Godspeed my friend. Maybe your children always remember your love. May they continue to laugh. Be at peace. I hope there are some awesome marathons in heaven for you. I think you'd love that. Arohanui.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Futility
This will be a bit of a grump post. Life has been pretty hectic lately. Birthday month has ended (yay) and its school holidays (mostly yay) and its spring (winter bugs be gone!) but I am still experiencing the aftermath of all of that. Its all gone a bit crazy.
I'm trying, in some small way, to reclaim my house. Mainly children clutter. Not the children themselves you understand, its probably not a good look to try and get rid of the children, but their 'stuff'. Its incredible how far and wide it spreads. Sometimes I wonder if it replicates at night. There are random toys that have some sort of meaning and order for someone (and god forbid you move them). There are the precious and agonised over drawings, paintings and colouring-ins that are waaaaay to important to put in the recycle bin unless I do it in secret and it get emptied straight away. You so don't want to see the look on C's face if she finds her papers in there. There is lego, which is such a fabulous toy for a 7 year old but entirely unsuitable for a 8 month old who likes to put everything in his mouth. There is half eaten sandwiches discarded at whim and I find them under the coffee table while searching for the remote. Nappies are dropped in places that I come across several hours later because Little Miss A has taken it upon herself to change her own nappy. Total craziness.
And not counting the washing pile which is known as either Mt Foldmore or the Foldmore Range. Its a range if it covers more than one room apparently ;).
I started yesterday with the toy area. I resorted things into their respective boxes and parts - cars, potato head, dolls, kitchen, animals, duplo, dress ups, barbies, tools. Within moments of almost finishing, there were a few leftover toys that needed to be put away and I hadn't got the vacuum out, Miss A discovered all the things that she hadn't been able to see due to the chaos and it was all over. Granted, she played happily there for ages but it looked like NOTHING had been done. Total futility.
Today I did the lounge. Well to be fair, Mr D and Miss C got themselves motivated and cleared all of it up and then got a turn with the vacuum cleaner. But now there are little pockets of things that have mushroomed their way in since then.
The other thing that I struggle with is the constant interruptions. I fill the sink with hot soapy water and prepare to decrease the pile of dishes. Within minutes, sometimes just seconds, the big kids get into a fight, Miss A wants a drink of milk or Mr I wakes from his nap. So while I get to do nice things like feed my children, mediate their differences thus hopefully giving them skills for the real world and a nice wake-up snuggle with my baby... my dishes are still waiting for attention. Its a bit like how the moment I get on the phone the kids need my instant attention even thought they've been playing happily for the previous 20 minutes.
And now, 8 months down the track of having a baby and everyone giving me advice to not worry about it and let it go, its now like this is what happens when you drop the ball a bit and go easy on yourself... it ain't pretty and its hard to fix.
Now I know that I wrote a few posts ago about embracing chaos... and I think I can still do that, but I'd still like to know where everything is at the same time. I think maybe I have a limit as to how much chaos is good for me and now I've found it.
Tomorrow I hope to get the kitchen sorted, bake cupcakes for church and maybe wipe the windows and sills. I reckon the kids will love helping with that one.
I'm trying, in some small way, to reclaim my house. Mainly children clutter. Not the children themselves you understand, its probably not a good look to try and get rid of the children, but their 'stuff'. Its incredible how far and wide it spreads. Sometimes I wonder if it replicates at night. There are random toys that have some sort of meaning and order for someone (and god forbid you move them). There are the precious and agonised over drawings, paintings and colouring-ins that are waaaaay to important to put in the recycle bin unless I do it in secret and it get emptied straight away. You so don't want to see the look on C's face if she finds her papers in there. There is lego, which is such a fabulous toy for a 7 year old but entirely unsuitable for a 8 month old who likes to put everything in his mouth. There is half eaten sandwiches discarded at whim and I find them under the coffee table while searching for the remote. Nappies are dropped in places that I come across several hours later because Little Miss A has taken it upon herself to change her own nappy. Total craziness.
And not counting the washing pile which is known as either Mt Foldmore or the Foldmore Range. Its a range if it covers more than one room apparently ;).
I started yesterday with the toy area. I resorted things into their respective boxes and parts - cars, potato head, dolls, kitchen, animals, duplo, dress ups, barbies, tools. Within moments of almost finishing, there were a few leftover toys that needed to be put away and I hadn't got the vacuum out, Miss A discovered all the things that she hadn't been able to see due to the chaos and it was all over. Granted, she played happily there for ages but it looked like NOTHING had been done. Total futility.
Today I did the lounge. Well to be fair, Mr D and Miss C got themselves motivated and cleared all of it up and then got a turn with the vacuum cleaner. But now there are little pockets of things that have mushroomed their way in since then.
The other thing that I struggle with is the constant interruptions. I fill the sink with hot soapy water and prepare to decrease the pile of dishes. Within minutes, sometimes just seconds, the big kids get into a fight, Miss A wants a drink of milk or Mr I wakes from his nap. So while I get to do nice things like feed my children, mediate their differences thus hopefully giving them skills for the real world and a nice wake-up snuggle with my baby... my dishes are still waiting for attention. Its a bit like how the moment I get on the phone the kids need my instant attention even thought they've been playing happily for the previous 20 minutes.
And now, 8 months down the track of having a baby and everyone giving me advice to not worry about it and let it go, its now like this is what happens when you drop the ball a bit and go easy on yourself... it ain't pretty and its hard to fix.
Now I know that I wrote a few posts ago about embracing chaos... and I think I can still do that, but I'd still like to know where everything is at the same time. I think maybe I have a limit as to how much chaos is good for me and now I've found it.
Tomorrow I hope to get the kitchen sorted, bake cupcakes for church and maybe wipe the windows and sills. I reckon the kids will love helping with that one.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Finding Grace
I've found grace in a most beautiful place. Once or twice a month I sing in our church band. We're an eclectic group... ranging in age from about 13 to 50's. We have varying degrees of ability in instruments. And its one place and a group of people who simply accept and welcome me, and my little crowd, with nothing but love and care.
I've sung with them when I've been 9 months pregnant (I've had three babies while being part of it), juggling a 3 month baby, interrupting the practice to take a child to the toilet, breastfeeding, burping, changing the baby, all while the music keeps going. They don't blink an eye when the baby cries, the toddler tantrums or the preschoolers get into a fight over a guitar (classic story, will tell you later). I'm usually dashing in late, having managed to get everyone somewhat organised and out the door. As well as buggy, nappy bag, lunches boxes and four children I am usually carrying a BLT bagel from McD's next door and a Coke Zero, because I can never seem to get it together enough to sit down and eat breakfast (if Mummy sits down its a sign that we're on go-slow mode so nothing happens lol).
If anything, a band can be a place where high expectations have to be met. You can't afford to be the weakest link if you want things to sound good. But for our group, we still sound pretty good but most importantly, we are very real. My band colleagues accept me, literal baggage and all.
I don't remember ever being told about grace. A lot of my teen and early adult life was striving for a goal of perfection in Christ. Of keeping all the rules, whether it be the music I listened to, the books I read, the things I did and people I spent time with. It was, sadly, all on my own strength, as if I needed to do these things to be acceptable to God and if I failed then I have to repent and try harder next time.
When I discovered grace I felt a wee bit angry and hurt that no one had told me about it before. Sure it might have been implicit in many things but no one said to me that it was okay to just be me. That in my weak imperfection all I had to do was to love and follow Jesus and it would work out. It is in that submission to God that the burden of not being good enough is eased and suddenly I can do the things that I want to do... and any changes I make are out of a desire to be more like Christ - through Christ - and not through my own strength and striving. There is no longer any fear in failure, fear of punishment. I am free through grace.
I was talking to a family friend years ago, maybe it was after D was born. She said something that i've not forgotten. That when you have your first child, you get one child grace. Have another and you get two child grace and so on. It is through God's endless grace that I can get up and do what I need to do, want to do, have to do and know that whether I do it great or not, I am still loved and redeemed by God. It doesn't stop me from striving, but the striving is now in partnership with God, not something I am doing to earn my place. I've let go of the rules that I thought I had to follow to find that change becomes easier as I stop trying and failing to do it by myself.
When C was born, our first girl, we added Grace to her name. For me, that name is a representative of my journey into grace, passed onto the next generation.
I've sung with them when I've been 9 months pregnant (I've had three babies while being part of it), juggling a 3 month baby, interrupting the practice to take a child to the toilet, breastfeeding, burping, changing the baby, all while the music keeps going. They don't blink an eye when the baby cries, the toddler tantrums or the preschoolers get into a fight over a guitar (classic story, will tell you later). I'm usually dashing in late, having managed to get everyone somewhat organised and out the door. As well as buggy, nappy bag, lunches boxes and four children I am usually carrying a BLT bagel from McD's next door and a Coke Zero, because I can never seem to get it together enough to sit down and eat breakfast (if Mummy sits down its a sign that we're on go-slow mode so nothing happens lol).
If anything, a band can be a place where high expectations have to be met. You can't afford to be the weakest link if you want things to sound good. But for our group, we still sound pretty good but most importantly, we are very real. My band colleagues accept me, literal baggage and all.
I don't remember ever being told about grace. A lot of my teen and early adult life was striving for a goal of perfection in Christ. Of keeping all the rules, whether it be the music I listened to, the books I read, the things I did and people I spent time with. It was, sadly, all on my own strength, as if I needed to do these things to be acceptable to God and if I failed then I have to repent and try harder next time.
When I discovered grace I felt a wee bit angry and hurt that no one had told me about it before. Sure it might have been implicit in many things but no one said to me that it was okay to just be me. That in my weak imperfection all I had to do was to love and follow Jesus and it would work out. It is in that submission to God that the burden of not being good enough is eased and suddenly I can do the things that I want to do... and any changes I make are out of a desire to be more like Christ - through Christ - and not through my own strength and striving. There is no longer any fear in failure, fear of punishment. I am free through grace.
I was talking to a family friend years ago, maybe it was after D was born. She said something that i've not forgotten. That when you have your first child, you get one child grace. Have another and you get two child grace and so on. It is through God's endless grace that I can get up and do what I need to do, want to do, have to do and know that whether I do it great or not, I am still loved and redeemed by God. It doesn't stop me from striving, but the striving is now in partnership with God, not something I am doing to earn my place. I've let go of the rules that I thought I had to follow to find that change becomes easier as I stop trying and failing to do it by myself.
When C was born, our first girl, we added Grace to her name. For me, that name is a representative of my journey into grace, passed onto the next generation.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
You must be busy...
I get that a lot these days. Before I had baby, I had A LOT of comments about how busy I was going to be when the baby arrived. Considering I was 8 months pregnant and had three children clustered around my person most of the time as it was the school holidays, you can imagine what I wanted to say but bit my tongue over ;).
Truthfully, I don't know many non busy people and it has absolutely no bearing on how many children they have. Some of the busy-est people I know have one child but what extra time they might gain from having only one child to nag, do pick up and drop off and cater to their many needs, they easily fill with other things.
Working Outside the Home in Paid Employment Mums seem busy. They are forever rushing to and from, shorterning days and making it up at home so they can be there for the important things, they're taking short lunches to get home 15 minutes earlier and somehow managing to do all the other parenting stuff they need to do while still working. Frankly, I have no idea how they do it because its pretty crammy in my life sometimes trying to fit it all in without having to actually do a specific job as well.
And for what its worth Working Inside the Home but Not being Paid Mums are actually quite busy. There is the image of the latte sipping SAHM, casually drapped across the sofa while watching something rivetting on daytime television. Well first of all, lattes suggest an espresso maker or a trip to a cafe... I don't drink coffee myself but I come across enough unfinished drinks in my house to know that if I did make something something special using the espresso maker, I'm actually unlikely to get it drunk in one sitting. And if I did go somewhere for a drink which I do sometimes, its not just me having some downtime, its me and whatever children I happen to have with me. I am not so much sipping latte (or hot chocolate) but juggling my drink while breastfeeding the baby, spooning leftover fluffy into the toddlers mouth and trying to let my preschooler into the playarea all at once. Its not exactly restful.
And I can assure you that what little have seen of daytime television, its not worth making time for unless its the Olympics. Being a SAHM rocks during the Olympics even if my children don't appreciate the finer points of hockey or athletics.
So am I busy? Well yes I am. Kind of. At the moment I 'have' to take time to sit down in order to feed the baby. Its good in a way as it makes me sit down and relax, well, sit down anyway. Its hard too because as soon as I sit down I see all the stuff I haven't done and won't get done today anyway.
Truthfully, I don't know many non busy people and it has absolutely no bearing on how many children they have. Some of the busy-est people I know have one child but what extra time they might gain from having only one child to nag, do pick up and drop off and cater to their many needs, they easily fill with other things.
Working Outside the Home in Paid Employment Mums seem busy. They are forever rushing to and from, shorterning days and making it up at home so they can be there for the important things, they're taking short lunches to get home 15 minutes earlier and somehow managing to do all the other parenting stuff they need to do while still working. Frankly, I have no idea how they do it because its pretty crammy in my life sometimes trying to fit it all in without having to actually do a specific job as well.
And for what its worth Working Inside the Home but Not being Paid Mums are actually quite busy. There is the image of the latte sipping SAHM, casually drapped across the sofa while watching something rivetting on daytime television. Well first of all, lattes suggest an espresso maker or a trip to a cafe... I don't drink coffee myself but I come across enough unfinished drinks in my house to know that if I did make something something special using the espresso maker, I'm actually unlikely to get it drunk in one sitting. And if I did go somewhere for a drink which I do sometimes, its not just me having some downtime, its me and whatever children I happen to have with me. I am not so much sipping latte (or hot chocolate) but juggling my drink while breastfeeding the baby, spooning leftover fluffy into the toddlers mouth and trying to let my preschooler into the playarea all at once. Its not exactly restful.
And I can assure you that what little have seen of daytime television, its not worth making time for unless its the Olympics. Being a SAHM rocks during the Olympics even if my children don't appreciate the finer points of hockey or athletics.
So am I busy? Well yes I am. Kind of. At the moment I 'have' to take time to sit down in order to feed the baby. Its good in a way as it makes me sit down and relax, well, sit down anyway. Its hard too because as soon as I sit down I see all the stuff I haven't done and won't get done today anyway.
Monday, July 23, 2012
The Crazy Invasion
The crazy has invaded my home. Its funny how it seems to have just hit now, the last few weeks. Maybe because its winter? With the dodgy weather, bugs on endless replay, cold nights, extra clothes to get dirty? Maybe its that the baby is now 5 months old and becoming his own little person who likes nothing more than to have Mummy's undivided attention? Maybe its because if he doesn't need me, Little Miss A, with her boundless energy and determination does. And then when the big kids get home they need to squeeze as much parental attention as they can get in the few hours before bed.
Sometimes I have days when I feel like I have been on the go all day and I am still no further to defeating the chaos than when I started. I can sometimes tackle it once all the cherubs are asleep (and thankfully for me, they go to bed reasonably early) but by the time the dishes are done, the floor swept, the toys put away, the washing folded, the planning for my next parenting session done and things like that, its bedtime and the night shift begins. I can manage to get the washing done and the meals are usually pretty good and I can sometimes get a chance to wave some eco-friendly cleaner in the direction of the toilet or bathroom, but it seems like the mess just replicates. Maybe there is some sort of reproduction cycle of mess that we didn't cover in biology. More often than not my to-do list gets longer and I get overwhelmed by the crazy and almost don't know where to start so retreat somewhere (it used to be somewhere with sugar, my retreat space, but I've gone sugar free so have to find something else)
So I got thinking. I used to look at the women profiled in magazines like Next. These amazing women who usually look fabulous (not still wearing their outgrown maternity jeans haha), they often have an awesome and creative business idea, or they've got an wonderful home that has been uniquely renovated or made out of straw or something clever. They usually have a couple of children, often with bedrooms that are imaculate (and I do realise that's what they do for a photo shoot and that surely its not like that all the time)... and then I look at my life and wonder how some women can juggle that and everything is on an even keel and I am only doing the child-care bit and I am dropping the ball(s) constantly.
But then, maybe this is actually my life. Maybe it is meant to be a bit on the crazy side of chaotic? Maybe I am not destined to be one of those women. My kids are healthy. They're pretty clean (I'll try to forget that last week my first born wore the same pair of socks ALL WEEK because he couldn't find the other pairs nestling in his sock drawer). They seem happy. And they do add to the crazy. I was tackling the arsenic hour the other night, D was reading me his book, A was desperate for a Mummy cuddle and had a whinge attached to that, Baby was also really wanting attention and I was making dinner as well as soup for lunches... I guess what I am proud about is that I didn't lose my cool or sanity and managed to cope and then my dear Hubby came in and got a couple of kids thrust into his arms which is our version of "hi darling, how was your day?"
So maybe I need to start changing my perspective. Maybe the chaos is not so bad. Maybe its what my life is meant to be. Noisy, busy, messy. Maybe I need to celebrate what I achieve in the day rather than dwelling on what I didn't.
Sometimes I have days when I feel like I have been on the go all day and I am still no further to defeating the chaos than when I started. I can sometimes tackle it once all the cherubs are asleep (and thankfully for me, they go to bed reasonably early) but by the time the dishes are done, the floor swept, the toys put away, the washing folded, the planning for my next parenting session done and things like that, its bedtime and the night shift begins. I can manage to get the washing done and the meals are usually pretty good and I can sometimes get a chance to wave some eco-friendly cleaner in the direction of the toilet or bathroom, but it seems like the mess just replicates. Maybe there is some sort of reproduction cycle of mess that we didn't cover in biology. More often than not my to-do list gets longer and I get overwhelmed by the crazy and almost don't know where to start so retreat somewhere (it used to be somewhere with sugar, my retreat space, but I've gone sugar free so have to find something else)
So I got thinking. I used to look at the women profiled in magazines like Next. These amazing women who usually look fabulous (not still wearing their outgrown maternity jeans haha), they often have an awesome and creative business idea, or they've got an wonderful home that has been uniquely renovated or made out of straw or something clever. They usually have a couple of children, often with bedrooms that are imaculate (and I do realise that's what they do for a photo shoot and that surely its not like that all the time)... and then I look at my life and wonder how some women can juggle that and everything is on an even keel and I am only doing the child-care bit and I am dropping the ball(s) constantly.
But then, maybe this is actually my life. Maybe it is meant to be a bit on the crazy side of chaotic? Maybe I am not destined to be one of those women. My kids are healthy. They're pretty clean (I'll try to forget that last week my first born wore the same pair of socks ALL WEEK because he couldn't find the other pairs nestling in his sock drawer). They seem happy. And they do add to the crazy. I was tackling the arsenic hour the other night, D was reading me his book, A was desperate for a Mummy cuddle and had a whinge attached to that, Baby was also really wanting attention and I was making dinner as well as soup for lunches... I guess what I am proud about is that I didn't lose my cool or sanity and managed to cope and then my dear Hubby came in and got a couple of kids thrust into his arms which is our version of "hi darling, how was your day?"
So maybe I need to start changing my perspective. Maybe the chaos is not so bad. Maybe its what my life is meant to be. Noisy, busy, messy. Maybe I need to celebrate what I achieve in the day rather than dwelling on what I didn't.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Hosanna (or the Village)
I am not entirely sure why this is titled Hosanna (or the Village). It just seems right. Tomorrow is Palm Sunday. It is the day we remember Jesus entry into Jerusalem, where for one brief moment he was greeted and acknowledged as the King that he is. Of course within a week he was being tortured and killed, and considering he knew what was coming as he rode the streets on a donkey, you must wonder what was going through his heart.
The definition of Hosanna is something like a cry for salvation, of praise maybe?
I'd like to think that I would have been one of those who continued to praise and exalt him even after he was arrested, tried and crucified. I am not sure I would have though. Would I have recognised this humble, ordinary man for who he really was? Would I have been influenced and swayed by the religious authority. I can't say I have a love for religious institutions in general (yes I know I am married into one essentially but that's entirely different, truly), I can't say I am always influenced by the crowd but I am probably influenced considerably more than I would like. For example, I might reject a corporate view of the world and the corporate values but I might look so objectively or negatively at things that fit my worldview better. Its kind of trendy being a bit greenish. Eco-whatever is pretty big, greenwashing is in so you could argue that I am not going against the flow at all.
Tomorrow will also be "I's" dedication. We've chosen to dedicate our children rather than baptise them. Daniel's was a separate service, done so we could invite friends and family who were living further away at the time but the other three are done as part of our normal service, as part of our church community. We think it is so important that our children have a strong sense of belonging in church. We think its important because its such a big part of who hubby and I are. Church is not just a Sunday activity for us, its a vocation and a lifestyle. We want our children to belong and to feel welcomed. So in a way, baptism would make more sense as it is the tangible welcome of someone into a community. Baptism, among other things, is a sign of belonging.
But for us we want our children to make their own decision about when they want to profess their own faith. We will do our utmost to guide them in that decision but ultimately, we can't dictate what they believe. But creating a feeling of belonging and community will help their faith development. And it helps me. A friend and I were talking about the village the other day... both of us have toddlers and a baby and we were discussing the reassuring nature of our "village" community at church. Our children come to no harm there. We can say to someone, can you watch X for me while I do Y and they do. We hand over babies, toddlers, children, we play swap the baby so often other people get confused about whose baby is whose. This village atmosphere allows our family to be a part of the community in a real way. I sing in our band and I couldn't do it if I couldn't pass on my children to be cared for by someone else for a short time. I can't expect hubby to preside over communion while wrangling a few children and I think our community like that we can be involved even if it does involve a few handovers.
Also, we dedicate our children because we believe in an infinitely grace-filled and merciful God. Baptism of children came about because at some point people believed that only the baptised went to heaven. I don't believe that myself. No one can tell me that God would not receive my precious baby into his arms should it be that he cannot live here on earth any more. I am not sure I fully get what baptism might mean except that it is about a person standing up and professing their faith and belief and committing themselves to life in community with us. Our kids will do that at some point and we prayfully await that time.
Tomorrow, we play this Brooke Fraser song at church. I think we've had it for both the girls dedications as well in fact. There is one phrase that I feel really speaks prophetically to my children...
"I see a generation
Rising up to take their place
With selfless faith
With selfless faith
I see a near revival
Stirring as we pray and seek
We're on our knees
We're on our knees
[Chorus]
Heal my heart and make it clean
Open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like you have loved me
Break my heart from what breaks yours
Everything I am for your kingdoms cause
As I go from earth to
Eternity
My children will be rising up and standing in their faith. I believe that. Their hearts will be broken with what breaks God's heart. I believe that too. May God be with them always and may they always know the love and acceptance of their "Village".
Hosanna in the Highest.
The definition of Hosanna is something like a cry for salvation, of praise maybe?
I'd like to think that I would have been one of those who continued to praise and exalt him even after he was arrested, tried and crucified. I am not sure I would have though. Would I have recognised this humble, ordinary man for who he really was? Would I have been influenced and swayed by the religious authority. I can't say I have a love for religious institutions in general (yes I know I am married into one essentially but that's entirely different, truly), I can't say I am always influenced by the crowd but I am probably influenced considerably more than I would like. For example, I might reject a corporate view of the world and the corporate values but I might look so objectively or negatively at things that fit my worldview better. Its kind of trendy being a bit greenish. Eco-whatever is pretty big, greenwashing is in so you could argue that I am not going against the flow at all.
Tomorrow will also be "I's" dedication. We've chosen to dedicate our children rather than baptise them. Daniel's was a separate service, done so we could invite friends and family who were living further away at the time but the other three are done as part of our normal service, as part of our church community. We think it is so important that our children have a strong sense of belonging in church. We think its important because its such a big part of who hubby and I are. Church is not just a Sunday activity for us, its a vocation and a lifestyle. We want our children to belong and to feel welcomed. So in a way, baptism would make more sense as it is the tangible welcome of someone into a community. Baptism, among other things, is a sign of belonging.
But for us we want our children to make their own decision about when they want to profess their own faith. We will do our utmost to guide them in that decision but ultimately, we can't dictate what they believe. But creating a feeling of belonging and community will help their faith development. And it helps me. A friend and I were talking about the village the other day... both of us have toddlers and a baby and we were discussing the reassuring nature of our "village" community at church. Our children come to no harm there. We can say to someone, can you watch X for me while I do Y and they do. We hand over babies, toddlers, children, we play swap the baby so often other people get confused about whose baby is whose. This village atmosphere allows our family to be a part of the community in a real way. I sing in our band and I couldn't do it if I couldn't pass on my children to be cared for by someone else for a short time. I can't expect hubby to preside over communion while wrangling a few children and I think our community like that we can be involved even if it does involve a few handovers.
Also, we dedicate our children because we believe in an infinitely grace-filled and merciful God. Baptism of children came about because at some point people believed that only the baptised went to heaven. I don't believe that myself. No one can tell me that God would not receive my precious baby into his arms should it be that he cannot live here on earth any more. I am not sure I fully get what baptism might mean except that it is about a person standing up and professing their faith and belief and committing themselves to life in community with us. Our kids will do that at some point and we prayfully await that time.
Tomorrow, we play this Brooke Fraser song at church. I think we've had it for both the girls dedications as well in fact. There is one phrase that I feel really speaks prophetically to my children...
"I see a generation
Rising up to take their place
With selfless faith
With selfless faith
I see a near revival
Stirring as we pray and seek
We're on our knees
We're on our knees
[Chorus]
Heal my heart and make it clean
Open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like you have loved me
Break my heart from what breaks yours
Everything I am for your kingdoms cause
As I go from earth to
Eternity
My children will be rising up and standing in their faith. I believe that. Their hearts will be broken with what breaks God's heart. I believe that too. May God be with them always and may they always know the love and acceptance of their "Village".
Hosanna in the Highest.
Friday, March 16, 2012
And then there were four...
I have so many intentions to write in this blog and suddenly its 9 months later... and 9 months is a long time really.. long enough to make a baby which is exactly what I have been doing.
Our precious boy "I" arrived in a hurry in February. Dark hair, blue eyes and very beautiful. As you can imagine life has been on the crazy side of chaotic over recent weeks so there has been even less time for anything. Except now I have a smart phone I can read the online papers, cruise the internet and post on Facebook while baby is plugged in and I am on the couch. Funny how life comes a full circle, when D was born we gave up our newspaper subscription because we just never got a chance to read the paper. And now I can thanks to a nifty app. 6.5 years ago there was no such thing as an "app".
Its never helpful to compare people or things but its funny how some things are scarily similar. Having a baby is like that. Not the births, they've all been totally unique but the aftermath. The dry as a desert mouth as baby starts to breastfeed. When I am so tired at night that I can barely sit upright anymore. The hormonal tears that erupt at the littlest things. The saggy belly, stretch marks and extra kilos. The delight at the first smile. The laughter at the poo explosions. The adorably cute clothes. All the same.
Yet having yet another child is different too. Its easier in some ways. I don't worry the same about what is happening... what to do and when. If something doesn't work, I try something else. If that doesn't work I try something else again. If that doesn't work I talk to my friends and sister and then remember something or try something new and even in all that I am not stressed at all, just going with the flow.
Baby is 6 weeks old and I remember being told that after 6 weeks everything settles down. And in some ways it has. I am making lunches, nagging the kids, making dinner, folding washing while watching television and trying to keep up with everything else with varying degrees of success. In some ways having a small baby is useful because I have a genuine reason to sit on the couch every 2-3 hours :). I have a even better reason to sneak in naps on the weekend. Sure it can be a little limiting in terms of activity and "me alone" time but I can survive that. I do miss it, the chance to pop out for a bit to recharge my batteries without my darling, but time consuming and busy, children. But that's not a reality at the moment and if spend too much time thinking along those lines then I think I'd probably get pretty unhappy with this part of my life journey and the thing is that I am not. Unhappy that is. Yes, its ALL day and night EVERY day and night. Yes most of it is up to me. But its not for forever. He won't be this darling, squidgy, snuggly, snuffly, wiggly, dimply newborn forever. At some point he'll stop smelling like that gorgeous milky newborn baby smell. He'll start moving around, eventually he'll be running and climbing and jumping. He's started smiling and cooing but before I know it it'll be making louder noises, sounds, words, sentences and then tell stories and answering back like the others. And this time will be a distant memory but not one I'm going to be happy to leave. We've decided that this is our last child, that our family is complete so its all the more reason to cherish these moments and these times now because I won't be having them again.
Funnily enough though, when I had the other three children, when I started thinking like this I started to get sad at the idea of them getting bigger and wanting to do it all over again. This time I don't. Its like I am happy living in this moment and knowing that this is it, there will be no other moment but its not something to be grieved over but something to be enjoyed and cherished.
So I think I am done. Tellingly I think the first thing I said to DH after baby was born was "I'm done". I am done. I don't want to be pregnant again. I don't want to birth again. I will hold the memories of those things with all four children close and with joy but now I am ready to move on. And for a reality check, my body is done too. It can't take much more of a hammering so the doctors say and truthfully, I agree with them. Its time to move on.
Our precious boy "I" arrived in a hurry in February. Dark hair, blue eyes and very beautiful. As you can imagine life has been on the crazy side of chaotic over recent weeks so there has been even less time for anything. Except now I have a smart phone I can read the online papers, cruise the internet and post on Facebook while baby is plugged in and I am on the couch. Funny how life comes a full circle, when D was born we gave up our newspaper subscription because we just never got a chance to read the paper. And now I can thanks to a nifty app. 6.5 years ago there was no such thing as an "app".
Its never helpful to compare people or things but its funny how some things are scarily similar. Having a baby is like that. Not the births, they've all been totally unique but the aftermath. The dry as a desert mouth as baby starts to breastfeed. When I am so tired at night that I can barely sit upright anymore. The hormonal tears that erupt at the littlest things. The saggy belly, stretch marks and extra kilos. The delight at the first smile. The laughter at the poo explosions. The adorably cute clothes. All the same.
Yet having yet another child is different too. Its easier in some ways. I don't worry the same about what is happening... what to do and when. If something doesn't work, I try something else. If that doesn't work I try something else again. If that doesn't work I talk to my friends and sister and then remember something or try something new and even in all that I am not stressed at all, just going with the flow.
Baby is 6 weeks old and I remember being told that after 6 weeks everything settles down. And in some ways it has. I am making lunches, nagging the kids, making dinner, folding washing while watching television and trying to keep up with everything else with varying degrees of success. In some ways having a small baby is useful because I have a genuine reason to sit on the couch every 2-3 hours :). I have a even better reason to sneak in naps on the weekend. Sure it can be a little limiting in terms of activity and "me alone" time but I can survive that. I do miss it, the chance to pop out for a bit to recharge my batteries without my darling, but time consuming and busy, children. But that's not a reality at the moment and if spend too much time thinking along those lines then I think I'd probably get pretty unhappy with this part of my life journey and the thing is that I am not. Unhappy that is. Yes, its ALL day and night EVERY day and night. Yes most of it is up to me. But its not for forever. He won't be this darling, squidgy, snuggly, snuffly, wiggly, dimply newborn forever. At some point he'll stop smelling like that gorgeous milky newborn baby smell. He'll start moving around, eventually he'll be running and climbing and jumping. He's started smiling and cooing but before I know it it'll be making louder noises, sounds, words, sentences and then tell stories and answering back like the others. And this time will be a distant memory but not one I'm going to be happy to leave. We've decided that this is our last child, that our family is complete so its all the more reason to cherish these moments and these times now because I won't be having them again.
Funnily enough though, when I had the other three children, when I started thinking like this I started to get sad at the idea of them getting bigger and wanting to do it all over again. This time I don't. Its like I am happy living in this moment and knowing that this is it, there will be no other moment but its not something to be grieved over but something to be enjoyed and cherished.
So I think I am done. Tellingly I think the first thing I said to DH after baby was born was "I'm done". I am done. I don't want to be pregnant again. I don't want to birth again. I will hold the memories of those things with all four children close and with joy but now I am ready to move on. And for a reality check, my body is done too. It can't take much more of a hammering so the doctors say and truthfully, I agree with them. Its time to move on.
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