Family snippets

To begin, I'll point out that this is only the second post I've written all month. Draw your own conclusions about my busyness level. Sitting down at the computer with the adorable monsters munchkins both awake is a joke: Ellie wants to sit on my lap and type, or share my tea, or watch Little Einsteins, while Zoe makes a beeline for a trash can or a bookcase or a set of electrical outlets. She is a troublesome monkey, as we tell her ten times a day (she responds with a brilliant five-toothed grin and crawls off to find something else to destroy). I'm fine with that now. I fought it for months, but just this week, reached the blindingly obvious conclusion that I no longer live in the Writing Frequently chapter of my life, and I shan't live there again for years. Forcibly wedging my blog into the current chapter-- which we might title Loving My Babies and Not Doing Much Else-- is a terrible idea. I will not live under that self-imposed burden anymore.

It's remarkably freeing. Without realizing it, I had come to believe that if I wasn't maintaining my wee space on the internet, I was letting myself down. Maybe I was even letting God down by wasting my gifts. And-- I think due partly to my generation's congenital compulsion to Change the World and Make a Difference-- wasn't I supposed to be aiming high? If I contented myself with ordinary life, life without an interesting internet presence and a significant project, I could fail to achieve my full potential (which may be the fate we millennials fear above all else).

All false, and absurdly so. I've got a billion things to do. They're extremely ordinary but God gave them to me, which makes them quite precious. They concern the physical needs of my family, the care of our lovely home, the kindness I can show to friends and neighbors. And it turns out that they are essential things, even when I'm not telling the internet about them. Shock! Amazement!

So I'm going to march along my noisy little road of mothering and home-keeping, without a keyboard hanging round my neck like a millstone, and without trying to measure up to the movers and shakers. Or anyone else, for that matter. I believe that God is calling me to do something significant, but I no longer think that "significant" means "affecting lots of people and accompanied by beautifully composed pictures." He sees. He cares. He blesses. That is sufficient.

Two children feels like a lot of children, these days. They're gorgeous and smart and loving them is a full time occupation.

Weekend linkage

I just discovered the blog Coffee + Crumbs, and this essay moved me so deeply that I absolutely must share it: I suspect many of you will relate. "Dream House."

Houses tell a story. Somewhere between no kids then two, I started to believe my house could tell one about me where I am astonishingly pulled together, and everything from the floors to my toe nails is marvelously shiny, and nothing smells funny. I want my house to tell the story of how awesome I am. One problem: I am not awesome. Not by a long shot.

Another great piece, much shorter (this one from Jess Connolly's "No Filter" weekly email): "You're Asking the Wrong Question, Sister."

So if you have any of that in your heart today - if you wonder: Am I doing this right? The answer is: He is.

At The Economist, a fun reflection on Jeeves and Wooster, to celebrate their centennial: "Jeeves and the vital oolong." Many are the J&W volumes I have borrowed from the library, and many are the side-splitting cackles they have caused.

"Motherhood Screened Off."

My husband thinks no amount of narration will change the way our kids feel about the phone. The problem, he says, is that whenever I grab it, they know that I am also holding a portal, as magical as the one in Narnia’s wardrobe and with the same potential to transport me to another world or to infinite worlds. I am always milliseconds away from news of a horrific mass stampede near Mecca or images of great medieval art or a Twitter dissection of the pope’s visit. How far am I going, they might reasonably worry, and how soon will I be back?

"Christianity in Kenya: Faithful in the Midst of Frauds."

Goodness, look at these beautiful bags.

This is funny! The truth behind cool Instagram photos.

jealous of grace

I have often been tempted to envy other women's possessions, appearance, or travel opportunities. But not till now have I found myself envying their time.

I can literally spend the whole day attempting to transfer a load of laundry into the dryer, and by evening it's still in the washer. Our flowerbeds are tangled with overgrown marigolds and lavender, because I haven't had a moment to trim them back all summer. I can't find the time to make one simple phone call.  love having two children but am floored by how busy they've made my life! (Should I have been this surprised? No. Yet here I am.)

Meanwhile, I hear of friends accomplishing so much that I would love to do. I see pictures and read stories of all the time they have for crafting and studying, for making music and blogging.

Sure, what we see on the internet does not always correspond to reality, but many times it does, and these women really do have time for their photogenic pursuits. They really are able to get all these lovely things done. I can feel inadequate in contrast, and a bit guilty. They have children too. They're taking care of a house too. They are faithful in their small things just as I am trying to be faithful in mine. So on top of all that how can they possibly run Etsy shops, repaint furniture, and get to Crossfit three times a week, while I twist my dirty hair into a flyaway braid and congratulate myself if I get a single carpet vacuumed?

It's because God is allowing them that grace. How could I be jealous of that? God has looked at each of us and said, here little daughter, this is what I have for you. And here is the grace to get it done. I know, certainly, that He is dishing out grace for me every day. It looks different from my friends' portions. (And often I don't even see my own portion as grace: I take what I do for granted. Of course I'm canning applesauce this fall! Of course I visit the library with my kids! Maybe for other women those things, my everyday things, are their impossible dreams.)

and then she said

"I got it! I got the sun!"
-jumping into an early morning sunbeam on the floor

"Mommy, are you sick?! Are you taking a nap?"
-because I was still asleep when she got up and clearly that is only attributable to illness

"Bye! See ya! I going to the work! Have fun! I love you! Have a good day!"
-riding away on her tricycle

"I need to put wotion on my crash."
-requesting lotion for a nonexistent rash

"Are you making an order?"
or
"Are you checking your wist?"
-whenever I look at my phone (which, yes, I do use to place Amazon orders and make grocery lists)

"Mommy!!! You awake???"
-while we were stopped at a red light

"Goodbye water! Sleep tight!"
-bidding farewell to her bedtime bath

"No Zoe, dat is NOT a good idea."
-whenever Zoe does something of which she disapproves

"Mommy, are you pretty?"
-I don't know where that question came from

Me: We're going to the chiropractor later today.
Ellie: Ooh! The pyro-tractor?

Ellie: Where's Kenzie?
Me: At her house.
Ellie: Where's Kyle?
Me: At his house. You'll actually get to see them tomorrow.
Ellie: THEY get to see ME!

clueless but pretty much okay

"Then I replied to them, 'The God of heaven will make us prosper, and we his servants will arise and build . . .'"
-Nehemiah 2:20

I have no clue what I'm doing with my kids. Well, fine, I do know a few things about babies. I also have some broad ideas about what my girls should learn as they grow, and about how our home life should look, and I think they're good ideas. Other than that I'm flyin' by the seat of my skinny jeans every single day. In fact, each time I think I found a solid handle on motherhood and start patting myself on the back, we shift into the next gear and I'm back to the blackboard. Not to mix metaphors or anything. 
 

When my mommy abilities-- to be patient, to speak wise words, to keep these two blessed munchkins a little bit clean-- sputter to a stop, and that's usually by 9AM, the Holy Spirit keeps plowing ahead. He tirelessly accomplishes the work He has in mind for us. I see the fruit of His tending all the time. It is good to rest in Him. (Or "just rewax!" as Ellie likes to say.) When I confess my insufficiency, I am only recognizing what has been true all along.

And you know, from moment to moment, even my bumbling efforts work out. I may not have a comprehensive theory of motherhood, but in each miniature crisis of the day I find that I know what to do. With God's help-- and often I don't recognize that He is helping, not until later-- my flawed instincts and incomplete knowledge suffice for our children's needs. The God of heaven will make us prosper.