Archive for the ‘Mothering’ Category

out of the mouth’s of babes.

Friday, January 2nd, 2009

My little boy is rather sickly right now with a cold and I’m not even sure how many teeth are coming in. It really breaks my heart to see him so overwhelmed.

But in the past day or so, I’ve went from feeling pity for him to snickering at Everything He Does. He’s just slightly “off” right now. And he’s probably going to turn bright pink when he reads this one day.

As I was tucking him in last night, I laid down in the floor beside his bed (he’s out of the crib but not in a toddler bed yet as we let him adjust to a Big Boy bed with just a mattress and billions of pillows and blankets) and started rubbing his back. A few minutes passed and then he started saying, in a sing song voice,

“Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex.”

I raised my head up slowly and listened again.

“Sex. Sex. Sex. Seeeeeex.”

Now, I know that I’ve slipped up a bit and said things like stupid (which Drew pronounces stoopit, the wiggly way), and chicken butt (which I’ve already addressed here), and perhaps a few other not-so-much-a-big-deal words. But nothing Dangerous For the Grocery Store or Church. Daniel and I have both been really careful.

You know. Because we talk like trash behind closed doors. Apparently. šŸ˜‰

Anyway, I knew he hadn’t heard that word from us. And it’s not like he’s watching MTV during the day while I play Sims 2.

“Sex. Sex. Sex. SEX SEX SEX.”

“What did you say, sweetie?”

“Sex.”

Then he raised his toes really high and wiggled his toes and shrieked “SEX!”

“OH!!!!! YOU MEAN SOCKS! Oh my word. Socks. Socks, Drew! SOCKS!”

And then as pretty as you please, he continued on.

“Socks. Socks. Socks. SOCKS!”

It was as though he knew the word but the whole Being Sick Thing was causing him to be slightly off in pronunciation.

Whew.

I’m not sure what it is about bed-time or nap-time. But as I just tucked him in a FEW MINUTES AGO…we had another episode. Which sent me into a fit of giggles.

Unlike other godly parents, we sing the ABC song before we go to sleep at night. Instead of Jesus Loves Me. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy whispering and sharing the stories of Jesus to Drew (even though he normally just turns his head at me and gives me a funny look when I say “the fish ate Jonah”) but for some reason, I don’t think it’s because he’s a wicked little boy, he does NOT like Jesus Loves Me before bedtime. He FROWNS and GROWLS. He likes it at bath-time, or in the car, or while sitting on the couch, but NOT at bed-time.

And one time I sang the ABC song. And he fell in love with it. He requests it all the time.

So, I sang the ABC song before his nap. When I finished, I heard him say (as he was snuggled under his blanket) “abcb abcb!” That’s code for MORE ABC SONG NOW.

I started singing again.

“ABCD…”

And then I heard him chant “abcb…”

“EFG…”

“eee…”

“HIJK…”

“eye eye kk…”

“LMNOP…”

“elephant pee…” (I SWEAR!)

“QRS…”

“…S…”

“TUV…”

“UB…”

“WX…”

“double dew…”

“Y and Z.”

“zeeeeee.”

I think it’s safe to say that while Drew is sick right now, he’s providing me a LARGE amount of entertainment.

sickly.

Monday, September 29th, 2008

After watching Drew battle a fever all day, complete with chills and lack of interest in anything but sleep and juice, I started getting really concerned tonight.

I’d kept him cool all day, tried to keep fluids and food in him (he didn’t have much interest in either), but all he wanted to do was sleep. He ended up taking a three hour nap while Daniel scooted to a late church service.

When Daniel got home, we woke Drew up to eat a bit of supper and play a tiny bit before tucking him back in bed. Only this time his fever had went back up. All the way to 103.2. Yes, I freaked out.

He hadn’t been sniffly at all today. No diarrhea, no vomiting, and no coughing. Just lying around, very very very whiny, and his fever has went up and down depending on tylenol and cool wash cloths.

We haven’t found a pediatrician yet or I would have called their 24 hr doctor on call and asked for a suggestion. So, we packed him into the car and headed to the ER.

It’s a new feeling to watch Drew somewhat helpless, physically. We’ve been blessed to have a very healthy boy. He’s had probably under 10 colds since he’s been born (he’s almost 18 months now) and has never had an ear infection or a stomach virus. But it was obvious tonight that something was wrong.

At the ER, the nurse put a band-aid on Drew’s toe that had a sensor inside of it to take his blood pressure. She slid his sock back over his toes and it was so cute to see Drew reach down and keep touching his toes. I KNOW IT’S THERE MOMMY! He got to wear a tiny toddler gown and with a fresh dose of tylenol, he was soon wiggling all over the hospital room. Isn’t that Murphy’s Law? Just when you think your kid is falling apart and you rush to the ER, he starts to dance for all the nurses.

The doctor finally came in (after we waited in a room for 45 minutes) and checked Drew out and diagnosed him with strep throat. I’m so glad that we went ahead and took him tonight. He’s on antibiotics and tylenol now and tucked in bed, sound asleep.

sickly little boy

provision, flying cheeseburgers, and respect.

Friday, August 22nd, 2008

Before we even knew that we would be moving to Pennsylvania, we scheduled a trip to Maryland just to visit family. And then as time progressed, and moving became apparent, we wondered what the time frame would be like. I was surprised and encouraged to discover that this past weekend was also the time at which the home we are renting in Carlisle was going to become available and we’d be able to get the keys. It was like a small green light shouting YES. It was also going to be a house party of folks at the Bergey’s as Tim’s girlfriend was in town and she was also bringing her best friend. All the more reason to visit.

As you also know, with our attending Financial Peace University and attempting to plan and save our way out of debt, we have had a few really frugal moments as we try to pay off debt. So, making the trip up north was something we knew we’d have to save for. Especially with the reality of moving costs (although the HUGE majority of costs is being taken care of by Daniel’s employer which is another answer to prayer), setting up house in a new place, and unexpected things that happen to all of us.

But as the time neared, the money we were planning on using for gas to go to Pennsylvania and to come back home seemed to be ebbing away. We have not completely gotten on the cash envelope system that FPU recommends (which is part of the problem and I am planning on starting that TOMORROW) and so it was easier to let the money slip when you weren’t staying on top of it. Within a few weeks of the trip, we realized that we only had enough money to GET THERE. None to get home.

We spent time in prayer, time in tears, and a lot of time trying not to worry. But we both felt from the bottom of our soul that this trip had a bigger purpose and wasn’t really about us. As the date to leave approached, I really fought the age-old battle that I’ve always struggled with – the reality that if I’d only done MY part better, then maybe God would have provided for us better. Another words, what if I’d been more strict with the money and had made sure that we were using cash envelopes…wouldn’t that mean that we wouldn’t be in this mess now? And wouldn’t that mean that God would have answered our prayers? Of course, we wouldn’t really need Him since we’d have planned ahead. Please note, that’s sarcasm.

Daniel reminded me over and over that I have to stop the see-saw approach with God. You know, I do something ā€œworthyā€ and then He responds with a ā€œblessingā€ and rinse, repeat. The bottom line is that I am not worthy. I never will be. I will never do enough, say enough, or believe enough to ā€œget His favor.ā€ He blesses because He is gracious and full of mercy. And I can trust Him to provide for us. How He chooses to do so is up to Him. I just have to follow along and watch Him work.

So, with a lot of prayer and a bit of butterflies, we packed for the trip. Our one solace was that Daniel had completed a HUGE side project for a company in PA a few months earlier and he’d yet to get paid. If they were able to pay us while visiting, then it made sense that we’d get home. Otherwise, we had no idea.

Our ride up to PA was joyful (Drew was PERFECT for ten hours!) and although we did have a lingering thought about the ride home and well, frankly, if there was going to BE a ride home, we still felt the peace of God about ALL of it.

On Friday, we relaxed with family, visited a nearby park, and tried to relax from the tiresome drive. I got terribly silly that night and when Daniel and I were telling Tim goodnight in the breezeway, Daniel sternly (with a slight grin) said, ā€œI’m going to have to go put my wife to bed.ā€ I turned red and shrieked, ā€œThat sounds so DIRTY!ā€ I remember Tim guffawing (I’ve always wanted to use that word) and then I heard him RUSH into the kitchen and proceed to tell the rest of the family what I’d said. I was MORTIFIED. I stumbled all over the breezeway wondering if I should go in and explain or just go to bed while Daniel just stood there laughing so hard. We finally decided just to go to bed. We snuck into the room quietly because Drew was already asleep in the crib and I tried to calm myself mentally and get ready for bed. I turned around to see Daniel striking some sort of weird tae-kwon-do pose and I about DIED. He began strutting around the room, doing these weird poses, all in the attempt to make me LAUGH and wake the baby up! I could have killed him!

Saturday morning we left for Pennsylvania, still wondering about money, and yet choosing to trust. When we arrived in Carlisle, we drove by our house TWICE because we were so wiggly. It was lunchtime and we turned around in a parking lot only to realize that we’d just passed by Sam and Janali who were driving in their car right beside us. WHOA. Totally Not Planned. We all pointed at each other and then rushed to park and hug and talk. I got to hold Abram who is tiny as a turtle and beautiful. We were treated to a yummy meal at Red Robin and then we headed to the house and I finally got to see it in person. It is beautiful and cozy and I can totally imagine living there. Three things I didn’t expect were how amazing the trees are on the property, how cozy the side porch is going to be, and how the arched doorways downstairs really make the home feel unique. After inspecting the house, we headed to PetSmart where we introduced Drew to fish, rats, and hamsters. All three are gross. But Drew thought they were wiggly. šŸ™‚ We then headed to Guy and Robin’s beautiful home for awhile to visit. I also got to meet Lyndsay who had dropped by as well. Interestingly, Guy actually has a THRONE in the living room. I think it’s the most awesome chair I’ve ever seen and will actively work to get a picture of it. šŸ˜‰

After leaving their home, we finally got news that we COULD get a check from the other company. We played a cat and mouse game of trying to meet them and ended up having to pick the check up in a public place where they’d hidden it (can you believe that?!). On the way to get the check, we suddenly realized that Oh My Goodness, it’s 4:30pm and what bank is going to be open for us to cash this check? We need CASH to get home. Not just a check.

The minute we had the check in our hands, Daniel called the bank it was drawn on and heard a sweet voice tell him, ā€œWhy, yes our bank is open on Saturday’s and we are open for 25 more minutes.ā€ I’m sure you can imagine how fast we drove to get to the bank where we proceeded to drive around the block fifty gazillion times to get a parking spot (downtown Harrisburg is crazy and yet beautiful!) He marched into the bank just in time and got the check cashed and when he finally got back into the car I think we both felt like oh-my-word – He just took care of us. We can get home. It wasn’t like a massive release of pent-up worry that came crashing down – it was more of a small amen shouted in my heart. Perhaps this is the first time that I’ve believed that God was going to take care of us and have chosen to praise Him before it actually happened. And then when it did, it was just another Well, of Course You Did It! Hallelujah!

The ride back to Baltimore was sweet as we had spaghetti waiting on the other end, I had a quick phone call with Kerry who had borrowed my copy of Twilight and I just had to know what she thought of it, and we rested in the peace that we’d made the right decision in making the trip.

The rest of the evening was full of Drew putting on a show, McCain and Obama at Saddleback (I have a lot of words to say about that as well but that’s for another time), and everyone BUT ME playing Fictionary (Balderdash). I was too tired and could barely think straight much less come up with a believable definition of a word that only 1% of people in the world have probably even heard. It might have also had something to do with the amount of benadryl I’d taken all day long AND the fact that Michael Phelps was on his last race and I couldn’t NOT watch. My tiredness caught up again with me eventually (I’m normally the one who falls asleep first whenever we are visiting – they all stay up to UNGODLY hours of the night but I can sometimes beat them up in the morning) and I snuck into our room while Drew was sleeping and crawled into bed while Daniel and his Dad took a midnight run to Wal-Mart.

Sunday morning took me by surprise because I woke up with another horrible headache (which I haven’t had since the CT scan, oddly) and after getting ready for church and attempting to ready Drew, I realized that I was not going to be able to make it to the service. Too. Much. Pain. So, Drew took an early morning nap and I curled up on the couch in Nana’s area and fell asleep. I woke up to picnic wigglies being prepared and folks carrying dishes out onto the back patio. We all had a great bunch of fun while eating grilled hotdogs and hamburgers with yummy potato salad and other things I’m probably forgetting. Our son mostly had fun with empty cups that he rolled around on the patio. Everyone seemed to nap that afternoon and after we all finally woke up and became social again, Harry and Mary Beth brought out a surprise gift for me and Daniel.

Apparently, Daniel’s grandmother made some quilt pieces for Daniel before she died and gave them to Mary Beth with instructions on the pieces being made into a quilt as a wedding present whenever Daniel got married. Although we’ve been married for two years, Daniel’s parents have been working to get these pieces quilted (Mary Beth no longer has time for quilting!) and finally found someone who could do the job and let me say, it is EXQUISITE. It is a pale yellow and white, with a pineapple motif, and absolutely breathtaking. We are going to be using it on our bed when we move. I couldn’t help but cry when they gave it to me. It has such history behind it and such love in it and the sacrifice made not only from Grammie but also from the sweet lady who quilted it for us, and for Daniel’s parents for paying for it to be quilted (which is a pretty penny) is not something we will forget easily.

The rest of Sunday evening was spent looking through old pictures (Dani had a great time seeing Tim soooo cute with those chubby little cheeks and please don’t hate on me, Tim), eating delicious watermelon, and then finally packing. We made a few rounds of goodbyes (to Grandpa, and to the hord of folks who stay up late and can’t wake before noon – BEN, ahem) and then ended up having to take Drew out for a ride to get him to fall asleep.

The journey home on Monday was much more burdensome and weary than our trip had been on the way up. In fact, Drew started crying within the hour after we left Baltimore and after we spent 2 1/2 hours in horrid traffic while trying to get around Washington, D.C., we should have had a clue that perhaps this day was going to be a big flump.

Between the shrieks of a little boy who just really wanted to get down and play in the floorboard of the car, the stress of the traffic, and the realization that oh-my-goodness we are moving in a week, I slowly began fuming in the back seat.

Everything that Daniel did and said set me on edge. And it’s as though the peace I had felt all weekend suddenly slipped away as I felt cold reality hit me head on. I began making mental lists of all that I had to do when I got home and fussily noticed that I was sneezing and blowing my nose every five minutes. Between each shriek from Drew, I sneezed (which oddly caused Drew to laugh and so for awhile we had shriek, sneeze, laugh, shriek, sneeze, laugh) and the peace ebbed further and further away. I just knew that God had helped us this weekend but now it was time to Get Things Done and of course, God is able to help us still but it’s really just up to us to make sure it all happens and OH MY WORD we need to get home fast and it’s taking too long. Can you get the picture?

We were hungry as bears as it neared lunchtime and so we decided to go through McDonald’s because it was cheap and fast (and because I hadn’t packed the cooler with food on the trip back home). When we found a McDonald’s I also spotted a Target nearby and suggested that maybe we take a small break and let Drew ride around in a buggy and calm down. We got our food and ended up just eating the fries before he started wailing again. Daniel asked if it was alright if we just wrapped the burgers back up and went inside to Target to walk around and then we’d simply finish the meal when we got back outside. It made sense to me so we piled out of the car and headed inside.

Once we got inside, I mentioned to Daniel that I’d like to buy a few snacks for the ride home (since we had an empty cooler) and maybe a few toys for Drew (in hopes that something new and interesting would calm him down for the remaining 400 mile drive). He agreed and mentioned that he really needed some coffee. I started through the store with Drew as Daniel headed to Starbucks (which was inside the store).

When we met back up in the store, Daniel quickly realized that we were thinking very differently about spending. He later told me that he’d been battling in his mind whether it was alright to buy the $3.00 coffee to only walk back and discover me with about four different snacks, four different toys for Drew, and a book in the buggy! Not a TON of things but it was obvious to him that I was just being nonchalant about grabbing things. I started noticing that he was acting oddly but I’d been fuming for so long anyway that I didn’t really care to stop and ask what was wrong. He deals with his frustration very quietly and so he didn’t make a big scene in the store.

When we got out to the car, I had to change Drew’s diaper and so Daniel loaded everything into the car. He was fussily loading one bag after another into the car and I was fussily wiping Drew’s rear and we were both just WAITING for the other one to make a wrong move.

Daniel passed out the leftover food that had been waiting for us in the car and took one bite and said, ā€œIt’s cold. I’m not eating this. My coffee filled me up anyway.ā€ I waited to eat my food because I wanted to feed Drew his food first and so I just sulked a little more in the backseat and attempted to be motherly. Poor Drew was grinning and smiling and acting like THIS IS SO MUCH FUN and OH I LOVE YOU MOMMY and I just wanted to wipe his little grin right off of his face. Can’t you see, son? We are FUSSY. NOW FROWN. GROWL. SOMETHING.

I finally reached for my food and took a bite of my burger. It was cold. And something just snapped inside and I started sobbing that I couldn’t eat it either. Daniel whirled around and said, ā€œWhat, you aren’t going to eat your food now?ā€ I was FURIOUS that he even dared to say that to me after he’d just said the SAME EXACT THING. And before I knew it, I threw my cheeseburger box in Daniel’s direction (you know, those little boxes that they come in from McDonald’s) and – WHOOOOOOSH – the cheeseburger went FLYING through the air and right past my husband’s face. The meat patty landed near his foot, one of the buns landed on the dash, and the other bun, I’m still not sure where it went. Pickles were everywhere (and one landed perfectly on Daniel’s shirt sleeve) and ketchup and mustard were all over the steering wheel and also on the side of Daniel’s neck.

It was very quiet. Even Drew knew better than to squeak.

I sat very still.

Keep in mind, Daniel is driving 80mph + on the freeway. For about two minutes, nothing happened. And slowly, he worked his way over to the right lane and took the nearest exit. He put the car in park and calmly said (in a tone that I have never heard before), ā€œI can’t believe you did that.ā€

He very methodically cleaned all of the cheeseburger up and even took considerable time to wipe the ketchup out of the cruise control grooves. He picked up the pickles, and went inside the gas station bathroom and cleaned himself up. He came back outside, started the car, and got back on the freeway without saying another word to me.

I still sat very still.

Many exits went by. Many miles went by. Many minutes went by before I felt like I could even move or even look over at Drew. Drew had sat wide eyed and had even laughed at one point (it’s not every day that you see your Mommy throw cheeseburgers through the air!) but thankfully, he had not cried.

It took me about two hours before I could muster the words to say I was sorry. I wish I could fully share how rebuked I felt when I didn’t get the reaction I thought I would and instead watched my husband clean up my childish act of rebellion and frustration. I felt very small. And very, very wrong.

I remember blinking slowly and feeling an ache in my soul as I knew I had not only hurt my dear husband but I’d acted so ungrateful to God. God, who had provided rather miraculously for us financially, who’d granted such sweet peace to us all weekend, and who’d given us a lovely time with our family, and who was blessing us with a lovely home to start a new chapter in, and yet I’d thrown it all away during a moment of frustration as I let the worry of the things to come eat away at my peace. So much that I’d retaliated out at the one person in this world who has vowed to stand beside me until death do us apart.

We centered our wedding around the theme of Two for the Road and this particular line spoke to me as I sat and pondered what I’d just done.

Step by step. Day by day. Year after year. Their companionship is a constant as everything else changes. When one stumbles, the other is quick with a helping hand. When one becomes weary, the other shoulders two loads for a few miles. They weather the storms. They take shelter in each other’s arms. They experience high country panoramas when life unfolds before them, shining like a rain-washed highway in the morning sun. Nothing, but nothing drives them apart. Nothing short of death divides their path.

They are husband and wife.

Two against the world.

Two for the road, no matter where that road may lead.

God gave me such an amazing husband, who promised to be with me for the Road of Life – forever. And how could I treat him this way? We finally did make up, and through some tears and honest confession, I realized what our turning point had been.

Daniel had just come from being concerned about providing for his family, seeing God bless us with the provision, being concerned about spending too much on his coffee (bless his heart!), and then walked up to see his wife with a buggy laden. Blowing the sweet provision of God right through the cash register at Target!

I, on the other hand, yet VERY grateful for the provision, had immediately began balancing funds in my mind and knowing what needed to go where and how much we could plan on spending. I felt no need to remind Daniel quietly, and kindly, that *this* was our current situation and we could spend *this* much safely. I just loaded up the buggy and headed for the line. Miss Independent. No wonder Daniel was so tense while loading the car full of bags!

Since we’ve been home, we’ve talked about this specific incident a few times and each time I realize just something a little different. Right now, I can’t get away from the realization that respect is something I have not been careful to give to Daniel.

He knows I love him dearly. And that I’m along his side for the Journey. And that I want it to be a Happy and Joyful Journey! But hindsight shows me that I’ve not been terribly eager to show him the respect that he needs.

If you’d asked me before I got married if Daniel would rather have my love than respect, I’d have laughed. Of course he would want my love. But through a lot of long talks, I’ve come to believe that (for men, at least) being unloved is better than feeling disrespected. I found that to be true while reading For Women Only by Shaunti Feldhahn, too.

Finally, the lightbulb came on: If a man feels disrespected, he is going to feel unloved. And what that translates to is this: If you want to love your man in the way he needs to be loved, then you need to ensure that he feels your respect most of all.

The funny thing is – most of us do respect the man in our lives and often don’t realize when our words or actions convey exactly the opposite! We may be totally perplexed when our man responds negatively in a conversation helplessly wondering, What did I say? Combine this with the difficulty many men have articulating their feelings (i.e. why they are upset) and you’ve got a combustible – and frustrating – situation.

Ugh. I am always asking Daniel to just TELL me what he is thinking. And begging him to EXPLAIN his feelings. When all I really need to do is back up and give him some respect. And some space.

For me, that means respecting his decisions and opinions for our family. No snide comments, no raised eyebrows, and no side glances. He always asks for my thoughts so I am going to need to learn to wait, graciously (while praying), and then learn to share my thoughts respectfully. It also means I need to let him figure out things for himself. It has always irked him that if I think of something before he does that I always rush to get it out or try to MAKE SURE HE KNOWS and all I need to do is let him have his space. He’ll get to the same place in his own time. Two for the Road means we will learn through each experience. I also have a bad habit of stating the obvious to him that I know makes him wonder if I even have a heart at times. I’m not stupid. I know how to push his buttons. All of us women know how to do that. And that simply needs to stop. It is not just what I’m saying but how I’m saying it. And lastly, like most woman, I tend to read a lot into everything he says. Once, Daniel even told me something like this: ā€œIf what I’m about to say hurts your feelings then please realize it means the exact OPPOSITE. And if what I say makes you feel good, then know that’s how I intended it.ā€ If that’s not a warning flag that you are jumping to wrong conclusions too often, then I don’t know what it is.

I know that I have the ability to either encourage my husband greatly or make him have the worst day of his life. That is not power that I grab with eager fingertips. I gingerly want to carry his heart, and remind him in a whisper that I’m proud of him, that I love him, and that I greatly respect him. Instead of throwing a cheeseburger at him. And then whispering that he still has ketchup on his neck. When we are an hour from home.

my short list.

Tuesday, August 12th, 2008

Whew. Hello, Sunday night.

Daniel and I are relaxing in the living room and watching the Olympic coverage. Here are a few things that I’d love to write lengthily about but my contacts seem to be glued to my eyes and let’s be honest, I really need to watch Michael Phelps more than I need to blog.

But here’s my list:

1. This morning’s service at Southside was absolutely amazing. One of the best services I’ve ever been in. Charlie talked about Jacob wrestling with God and it was so powerful I saw tears pouring not only down my face but others. As we all shared Communion, we sang Amazing Grace…my chains are gone…and I thought I could barely breathe. It seemed like everyone around me was itching to rush to their feet, throw their hands in the air…and all I could imagine was what Heaven will be like when believers from all over the world are praising the One who broke our chains.

2. I’ve changed a few things about Fairly Ordinary. For one, there are a few ads now. šŸ™‚ No hard feelings, right? I also added a movie ratings archive and a library.

3. My son apparently has Hand, Foot and Mouth disease. I know. Oh my freaking word. He suddenly shouted out at us this evening (he’d been reading a book in his bed), and we went to check on him and he immediately showed us one of his index fingers which had a huge blister on it. There wasn’t a way he could have pinched it and we were really confused and concerned as to how one earth he could have had such a awful blister form in so little time (I’d just been with him minutes earlier) and so I called the Children’s Clinic who basically told me that he has all the symptoms of HFMD. Isn’t that crazy? šŸ™ I’m keeping everything sparkly clean, giving him lots of food and fluids, and he won’t be visiting nurseries anytime soon. :- Also, he DOES NOT have Foot and Mouth disease. šŸ˜‰ He isn’t a calf or a piglet.

4. Besides getting random viruses from other kids, Drew has also been learning new things. He has learned to CLIMB. After turning my back for a second, and Daniel looking at something else for just a second, we suddenly realized Drew was missing. I found him IN THE TUB. Fully clothed. With his juice. Grinning.

He’s also learned to climb on the couch. NOT GOOD.

5. I read ALL of The Twilight Saga this weekend. ALL FOUR BOOKS. In one weekend. I’m certainly going to write about these books in the coming weeks (it may be after we move) but wow – is it just me or is this Tuck Everlasting meets Anne Rice? No, they aren’t as rich as the Harry Potter stories but they are certainly fascinating and lovely as pie.

late night thoughts.

Thursday, July 31st, 2008

It’s early for me to be already considering sleep, but this evening has been slow and just within the last hour have I felt myself crawling out of the funk I’ve been in this week. And as I felt myself calming down, I tucked Drew in for the night, lit a candle in the bedroom, stacked my books by the pillow, filled up a large glass of ice cold water, and decided to read until I fell asleep. But the more I read, the more I knew I wanted to write. So here I am.

I’ve had a lot on my heart this week. An awful lot. But their hasn’t been any time to write. Since Daniel has been away, I’ve been going full-throttle with the things he normally takes care of and then of course, my normal things. That may seem like not such a big deal to you but this week has been a wake up call on how much I take Daniel for granted. But more on that later.

A lot of things have gone horribly wrong this week. I’m used to Daniel always unlocking the door for us so I never carry my keys with me. Our car keys are separate so the only keys I’m ever used to carrying are those. I’ve locked myself out of the house several times this week and I’ve had to track down my mom (who was staying with Granny who is doing better – thanks for all of your comments, thoughts, and prayers!) and get an extra set of keys they have to our BACK door. Since the Moho is tiny anyways, each time I opened the back door I had to crawl over the high chair and three baskets of laundry waiting to be washed. That is the only space I can really use in the house for sitting things temporarily and wouldn’t you know that it was FULL each time I had to come in through the back door.

I broke a glass all over the floor and had to get on my hands and knees to attempt to find all of the shards and itty bitty pieces. I thought I’d cleaned it up enough to walk on (for me) and then I was planning on mopping in the evening before I let Drew walk in the kitchen. But I kept putting off mopping. And wouldn’t you know that I FOUND ANOTHER PIECE. My foot bears the scar.

My dad has been loaning me a truck of his this week to use (it’s huge and I feel like a redneck using it) and yesterday evening, on the way home from McDonald’s (because I was fed up with the ā€œgoodā€ food at home and I was DYING to get out of the house) Drew started shrieking. It was a painful shriek. I started watching him out of the corner of his eye and he kept pushing his fingers against the side of his jaw and screaming. Sure enough, I checked at a red light and he has about a billion teeth coming in ALL AT ONCE. Poor kid. šŸ™ We had about ten more minutes before we reached home so I pulled out all the stops and tried to comfort him the whole way I was driving home. The only thing that worked was when I would turn on the inside car light. He would shout ā€œLIIIIIGHTā€ and smile faintly.

This afternoon I packed him BACK in the truck to head to the grocery store and attempted to start the truck. Dead. I’d left the inside light on all night and it drained the battery. Sigh. So, I called Mom and begged to use her van and pulled it down in the yard and switched the car seats successfully (I’ve NEVER done anything with the car seat – Daniel has always done it) in the 1000 degree heat and we finally headed to Publix. Of course, the minute that Drew saw the balloons in the store he began shouting B’LLOOOOOOON and only way I could keep him quiet was to tie one to the shopping kart buggy. And that really didn’t keep him quiet, per-se. He just wasn’t as loud. The problem was that all the balloons I saw said Happy Birthday. And I didn’t have the heart to tell several little old ladies who congratulated him on his birthday that it was not, in fact, my son’s birthday.

I loaded him back into the van with all the groceries and managed to the keep the balloon out of my face so I could drive. And that’s when I heard the angels singing ZAXBY’S, Jennifer, ZAXBY’S. And being a girl who never turns down the call of angels singing about fried chicken, I once again ignored the very-good-for-me food at home and whipped into Zaxby’s for a little food-will-make-me-feel-better. When the girl at the drive through shouted Happy Birthday out the window, I decided I should go ahead and tell her that it was NOT his birthday. That resulted in said girl leaning further out of the window, almost in my personal space, and telling me a five minute story about how her really cute oh my word precious 18 month old does the very same thing oh my word. I was so hungry and I just wanted to pop open my plate of food and start eating with a little, *chew* ā€œoh, yeah?ā€ *chew* But I didn’t. I waited. And smiled. Because it’s possible that the fried chicken angels were listening.

Like I said earlier, all of the stress of the week has just been a huge reminder of how much I take Daniel for granted. I suddenly have this huge, amazingly massive amount of respect for single parents. This will probably make me sound spoiled and weird, but Daniel always carries Drew for me if we are together, he takes the trash to the recycling center, he listens for Drew if I need to run an errand and Drew is sleeping (remember, his office is next door and he has a baby monitor), he always UNLOCKS THE DOOR FOLKS, he always switches the car seat if we go out with Mom and Dad, and so much more. Just as he was feeling odd on Saturday as our roles were reversed and he was preparing the food, changing the diapers, cleaning up, organizing, doing laundry, and I was sitting comfortably in my chair writing for Blogathon…I suddenly feel overwhelmed as I realize that I’m doing both roles for the first time and it is HARD. Not the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Just different.

I’m not trying to get sympathy necessarily. I know it could be a LOT worse and obviously, we are a team and it’s a blessing to have someone else with which to share parenting. But I just think I’m beginning to realize that I’ve just expected Daniel to do these things because he’s here. It was a big adjustment when he stopped working from home and moved into the office next door. That meant that if I needed to lift a billion pound box, I couldn’t just shout for him and he would come out of the next room to help. It helped us both to get some time apart. It made me realize that I actually just need to buckle up and do this stuff myself. I’m a wife and a mother and I have to do both things. That’s what I’ve chosen. And it helped him actually focus on work more because I wasn’t calling him every five minutes to help out, or oh look at what Drew is doing, or do you mind if I sell these three Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy books on eBay because they are so weird and I can’t get into them at all.

But now it’s going to be an even bigger adjustment when we move to Carlisle because he’s going to actually be…away at work. Not just next door. So, what I’ve been experiencing this week will actually be…the way it will be. No more running errands and leaving Drew with Daniel. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not upset about that. Or even fussy. It’s just a reality check for me. I am still relatively new at parenting and since most of our parenting has been in a situation differently than most folks (in that we were together ALL OF THE TIME) maybe you can see where I’m coming from.

The other drama of the flump of this week (what an awesome sentence, yes?) is that I’ve been struggling with everything faith related again. I’ve read enough of the stories of other people who have left fundamentalism to know that it’s normal to feel as though the ground underneath you, theologically, is shaking horridly when you leave. I was reading a book of Bible stories to Drew this week and I suddenly started sobbing as I wondered how on earth we could decide how to teach Drew about faith and a relationship with God. It was so much easier when I lived a life of rules. It’s hard to walk away from a list of things that I KNOW are just not-what-Christians-should-do and a list of things that I KNOW are things-that-Christians-should-do and learn to walk carefully while listening to the Spirit.

I’m being vulnerable when I write this but it has made me rethink everything I’ve ever been taught. I’m remembering sermons, classes, books, and trying to look at it all through Scripture alone and not just through the glasses of Independent-Baptist and Conservative Thought and Rush Limbaugh Loving and President Bush Can Do No Wrong and especially Keswick Theology.

Camille’s thoughts on Keswick Theology is…well, just read it. Wow.

In my Moody seminar, we discussed the Keswick ā€œmovement.ā€ I think we can call it a movement. It started as a camp in the mid-nineteenth-century in Keswick in the UK, a lake-front resort town. The kind of Christianity described and promoted in this camp resonated with D.L. Moody and contributed to his success in the British revivals there in 1873-1875. When Moody returned to the US for his American revivals, he had already digested this Keswick doctrine and became its chief American importer.If you’ve heard yourself repeating ā€œLet go and let God.ā€ you’re citing Keswick. If you’ve ever sung, ā€œOh, to be Nothingā€ or ā€œI Surrender All.ā€ you’re singing Keswick songs. If you’ve been vexed by the necessity for continuous consecrations, if you’ve heard about the ā€œsecond blessing,ā€ if you’ve heard sermons on ā€œthe victorious life,ā€ if you’ve ever been motivated to ā€œdedicateā€ your life to Christ, if you’ve ever participated in Campus Crusade, that’s a Keswick influence (Marsden 78).

Keswickian proponents try to negotiate among a Calvinist ā€œtotal depravity,ā€ a Wesleyan ā€œeradicationā€ or ā€œperfection,ā€ and a Pentecostal ā€œbaptism of the Holy Spirit.ā€ George Marsden explains it as follows: ā€œas long as Christ dwelt in the heart a Christian could be free from committing any known sin. There was therefore no excuse for tolerating any known vice, appetite, or sinful habitā€ (78). Marsden gives a lengthy description of Keswick’s influence on contemporary fundamentalism in his now classic, Fundamentalism and American Culture: The Shaping of Twentieth-Century Evangelism, 1870-1925. Their popular metaphor is that ā€œsinful nature is like an uninflated balloon with a cart (the weight of sin) attached. Christ fills the balloon and the resulting buoyancy overcomes the natral gravity of our sin. While Christ fills ours lives we do not have a tendency to sin, yet we still are liable to sin. Were we to let Christ out of our lives, sin would immediately take overā€ (78). Marsden labels Keswick, New Jersey as the new hub of Keswick teaching in the United States and then Columbia Bible College as its intellectual think tank where Keswick notions dominated among the middle-class and Pentecostalism flourished with the more disenfranchised (96). While D. L. Moody popularized it, Scofield and Ironside documented Keswick theology. And Charles Trumball perpetuated the ā€œlet go and let Godā€ motto. He elaborated that Christ would rule in us so long as we did not interfere. Objectors claim that ā€œChrist was supposedly let in and out of peoples’ lives like steam or electricity turned on or offā€ (98).Marsden rightly reminds his readers that Keswick works in the US because the notion of ā€œfree willā€ is an ā€œAmerican dogmaā€ (99). Keswick negotiates between God’s sovereignty and man’s free will. Marsden ends his chapter on Keswick history by addressing it as a dispensational compliment within the Bible institute movement. It softened the often hard edge of ā€œmore objective argumentsā€ and the harder edge of a cultural pessimism by focusing on individual success (100-01).

Such is the history, but M. James Sawyer lays out the Keswick theology. For the Keswickian there are two types of Christian: carnal and normal. For the normal Christian, the self is dethroned, yielded, absent. Any hint of self-identity, however, is carnal. Sin, in the Keswickian perspective, is overwhelmingly powerful. And while it can never be eradicated, it must be continually thwarted. Full surrender is the only solution; anything less is willful rebellion. What this comes down to is complete capitulation of anything human or anything personal. The self is useless. It has no rights, no personality, and no humanity.

Sawyer also points out the formulaic quality to the Keswick mindset. If you hear ā€œthere are just five simple steps to a successful Christian walk,ā€ beware! This simplicity is only possible with an eradication of any difficult feelings. For the Keswickian, a strong faith is proven in positive ā€œfeelings.ā€ Negative or strong feelings demonstrate self-rule and are, thus, to be avoided (read: denied) at all cost.

Keswick teaching assumes a Gnostic kind of dualism-the good angel and the bad devil sitting on the shoulders of every believer, ready to duke it out for ultimate control. When the believer remains completely passive, then the ā€œgoodā€ side may take over. But any sign of will is certain doom.

But the fact of the matter is, as Sawyer points out, there is no metaphor of ā€œcontrolā€ in the New Testament. The Good Shepherd does not lord over His sheep. The husband does not strive to control his wife. Christ does not boss the church. Instead, there’s a metaphor of ā€œleading.ā€

ā€œIn fact, a result of the Spirit’s ministry on our lives is self-controlĀ­, this would hardly seem possible if the regenerate self were still totally evil as Keswick claims,ā€ Sawyer reminds his readers.

Sawyer’s principle critique is that Keswick is merely a kind of Holiness teaching that leads to introspection, elitism, and simplistic spirituality. By redefining sin from missing the mark (something we all do by our nature) to stubborn rebellion (something we choose to do by our will), they move the legalism from the objective sphere to the subjective. It is then even more impossible to be a good Christian because the standard is fuzzy and super-human.

So much for Sawyer and the 19th-century. In the drama of Keswick, believers are very much the actors, holding the reigns, controlling the outcome. They are acting upon God who is merely the scene. They seem to view the Christian walk as a tightrope that we must constantly balance all our weight upon. One little slip to the left or the right, one little glimpse down below, and we’re doomed.

The thing that’s so obnoxious to me is that I hear this Keswickian struggle at every turn. From a popular writer and speaker and counselor:

ā€œOur greatest danger is always the flesh.ā€

ā€œDealing with such topics as learning to exercise self-restraint, recognizing reality, walking in wisdom, and setting a godly example, Changed Into His Image has been the key for thousands of believers to unlock the mysteries of overcoming and fruitful living.ā€

From an ever-present tract:

ā€œNot far down this road you meet the second: the Cross of Dedication. It is you, not Christ, who must hang upon this cross. It is a cross of death to self. As a Believer, you realize this truth and place yourself upon this cross, believing that by dying to self you will be spiritually alive to serve Jesus Christ. Your life is saved and your works of faith will produce rewards in Heaven.ā€

But I hear it in conversations too. From my friend who is grieving the loss of her child and won’t admit her sadness because it doesn’t seem Christian. From a harsh counselor who insists that depression is just a sin problem and taking antidepressants indicates a weak Christian commitment. From an acquaintance who denies her vulnerability but pitifully and futilely shines the veneer of her perfect Christian life. From a preacher who insists that any whiff of self-esteem is ungodly. From a colleague who refuses to hear any appeals to our rights as citizens because we have no rights. From a friend’s cutesy knick-knack that quips ā€œthere are two choices on the shelf, pleasing God and pleasing self.ā€ From a punitive culture that insists upon controlling rather than leading, dismissing rather than reflecting, inflicting pain rather than teaching. From a trenchant capitalism that perpetuates the idea that just one more product wil perfect our boring love lives, our overweight bodies, and our jammed careers.

I was discussing this with a seasoned professor that I admire who’s writing a book to counteract our culture’s avoidance of strong feelings. He reminded me that Dr. Bob, Sr. founded BJU in defiance of the Bible Institute movement and Keswick teaching. He saw the Christian walk as less a mysterious balance and more a plain common sense. And yet it has creeped in. Ā Maybe because it sells so well.

The Christian walk is not a punitive balance on a tenuous tight-rope. It’s more like a walk in a state park, with God’s boundaries clearly delineated, through which we can wander fairly freely under His leading, enjoying the valleys and the hilltops, but always safe in His care. He is always sovereign, having created our personalities for His pleasure. We are human, and being human isn’t a sin. Trying to be super-human is.ā€

I’m so tired of viewing life as one lesson after another and boy, you don’t want to mess up and FAIL GOD’S LESSON FOR YOUR LIFE. Because he will make you retake that lesson again and the second time around is WORSE. What type of warped theology is that?? I mean, really! I’m tired of always assuming that we have ā€œmore lightā€ than other believers and that must be the reason that even though we really love Ravi Zacharias and highly respect him, we can’t agree with him on his choice of a version of the Bible. And that our ā€œhigher amount of lightā€ is the reason why we choose not to ā€œdress like the worldā€ even though we can fellowship with other believers who do.

Maybe it sounds like I’m bitter. :-

Maybe I am. I know bitterness is not echoing God’s heart at all. And as I cling to Him more, and learn to walk in this relationship without a rulebook, my prayer is that the bitterness will disappear and I’ll learn to appreciate the good parts of my theological foundation and let go of the rest. Without malice.

This is why I wept when I read to Drew. Because it’s such an immense burden to teach your children about God. I want to teach carefully. I want to teach Drew how to talk with God and how to walk with God. And to not be afraid to question, to ponder, and to scream out in frustration.

Whew.

All of that to say…this has been a hard week. And I’m ready for my lover, my partner, my sweetheart, my darling, and my dear sweet husband to be home. By the way, THOSE ARE ALL THE SAME PERSON. šŸ˜‰