Crap Happens

True Story:

It had been one of those crazy, stormy days. I have become this wild, hungry God-seeker. I want to see Him, know Him. My tired, mother heart is worn out by the end of the day, but I want to fully live. I have been reading One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp and am taking her up on her challenge to live the fullest life.

Mike took the kids to his parents, and I had the house to myself.

But I had been in this house for 3 days straight, and I am ready to emerge from my tomb. (I am laughing at my bad analogy... no, though some days may feel like it, my home cannot be compared to the tomb where Christ laid). I grab my camera and decide to chase Beauty. Become the modern painter with a digitally-edited, photo-paper canvas. Try to hold Beauty within my lens. Grasp it. Capture it. Even for but a moment.

"'The glory of God is the human being fully alive and the life of the human consists in beholding God.'... Don't I give God most glory when I am fully alive? And am I most fully alive beholding God?"

-Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts

I am behind the steering wheel, making way for vineyards and empty fields that open the world wide to the horizon. The tempestuous storm that had pelted our front door with little hail stones had given way to the most glorious sunset. Gold-lined clouds against a blood-red sky. I chase after this Beauty, desperate. 

I find a spot off the road. Pull-over. Grab my camera. I adjust my settings as I hastily walk toward the vineyard. 

It's cold. The breeze runs through my hair. Soft rain drops dampen my skin. I feel a large, warm rain drop thud against my shoulder and hand.

Wait... Warm?!

Raindrops are not warm. This was definitely not a rain drop.

One brave bird flies off towards the night. I got crapped on.

In the midst of my soul's revery--my wild Beauty hunt--chasing God, I got crapped on by a lone bird on a wire... when all other birds have taken to their storm shelters.

I am disgusted. I want to throw my fist up, angry with God. How could You let this happen? I am here to worship and You let me get pooped on?! Really?

For a split second I stop my rant. In the time it took my heart to beat one time, I try to embrace the gift of that moment. Surely this moment does not contain a gift, but still I try to find it. And in the next heart beat, something even stranger than the gritty waste product on the back of my hand happens: Peels of laughter rip through the anger and inconvenience. I laugh.

I capture one picture and return to the safe haven of my car in search of tissue and Purel. I laugh some more.

Crapped on while capturing Beauty.

I crap-tured beauty. 

I am roaring now. And the laughter feels good. And God is in this moment too. 

I went out seeking Beauty... seeking a full life... seeking to know God... asking for Joy.

I found the beautiful sunset. I also found the lone, human-loathing bird on a wire that would dare to take aim at the innocent God-seeker. 

But still, I found Joy.

I could have allowed the birdy-poo to ruin my evening. I could have tried to find some deep meaning in the warm substance resting on my hand... Why would God allow this? Why would God let me get crapped on when I am trying so hard to be full of Joy? Doesn't He love me? Doesn't He supposedly give good gifts?... Or I could take the gift in the moment and laugh. I laughed with my Creator. I received the Joy in the moment.

Crap Happens.

In this beautiful, God-created world, crap happens... The diaper of the darling baby explodes and leaks onto his poor mama's pants who didn't think to bring a change of clothes for herself... The life-giving, bonding, and waist-trimming experience of breast-feeding can occasionally offer up clogged milk ducts that rack a body with feverish aches (Hi, this is where I am right now!)... temper tantrums from the sweet one, friend turned gossip, great day abruptly halted by the crunching sound of your own car's metal against another car's rear end... crap happens.

I cannot pretend to know the answer to the why.

It is a mystery. And even though I was able to find Joy in bird excrement, I am only just scratching the surface. There are far more crappy things that could happen in a life. I just have this strange sense that God is allowing me learn how to live Joy-Full in spite of circumstances.

Could it be that one could really keep their Joy every day, not just the good ones?

I know it involves trusting God. I know it involves taking each moment, easy or hard, and receiving it as a gift. It's like the manna the Israelites ate in the wilderness. Each day, God miraculously covered the ground in little wafers. It baffled the Israelites:
"God's people daily eat manna--a substance whose name literally means 'What is it?' hungry, they choose to gather up that which is baffling. They fill on that which has no meaning. More than 14,600 days they take their daily nourishment from that which they don't comprehend. They find soul-filling in the inexplicable. 
"They eat the mystery. 
"And the mystery, that which made no sense, is 'like wafers of honey' on the lips" 

 Ann Voskamp, Ten Thousand Gifts

Sometimes life is baffling. Sometimes painful. Sometimes wonderful. Sometimes it's offerings lead us to question God, "What is it? It doesn't make sense!" Our minds can't comprehend how all things can be a gift. But in taking the mystery, eating it, allowing it to nourish, we might just find that somehow it's like wafers of honey. Somehow it's sweet. Somehow it's Joy.

Taste and see that the Lord is Good.

I am not sure what it means. I do not know how to make sense of it all. But I did discover Joy in the most unlikely of places.

Joy in crap.
Imagine that!

xo

Bitter Herbs

I have this thing about symbolism. I love it when something that is super accessible and tangible represents a deep idea. Could be the teacher in me. Or maybe it's the years and years of studying literature... and liking it.

Oh yes, I like it. :)

The Passover Seder fascinates me. Everything... Everything!... symbolizes something.

Reading about it in Exodus and then comparing it with Jesus' final days... I am pretty sure it's like a heaping buffet table and a hungry stomach for a literature lover. It is reeking with symbolism: layers upon layers of God-designed, intricately woven traditions to match the profound spiritual truths and made accessible to simple people like me. Oh my goodness, I love it!

Yesterday, I typed some thoughts about "chametz."

Today, I want to look at just one element from the Seder table: the bitter herbs.

The bitter herbs are called "Maror," which is traditionally horseradish, and the "Chazeret," which is traditionally romaine leaf or some other bitter green. They represent the bitter life of slavery. Since horseradish is powerful enough to cause some tears to roll, it goes so far as to represent the tears that were cried and the painful life the Israelites lived while in Egypt.

The Israelites' redemption from the bonds of slavery can be compared to a being set free from sin and the law of sin and death. So as a Christian, those bitter herbs are a reminder of my former slavery. God actually wants me to look back on occasion and remember the bitter taste of the life I lived prior to my salvation... not to live in shame and condemnation, but to remember how great my freedom is.

 

My Bitter Herbs:

I have this silly little memory of being around 6 and having an adorable, chipmunked-cheeked, bright-eyed little brother who played a game with my mom: "I love you more. No, I love you more"... They played all the way up to infinity times one thousand. It was their special bedtime routine, and I was jealous. I also remember my brother constantly got in trouble for lying. So, one day overcome by some unknown but super carnal need to get my brother in trouble, I took a vase and smashed it on the floor. I told my mom that my brother did it. He swore he didn't do it till he was in tears. But my mom believed me. I felt good, but rotten and terrible and wondering why I would do such a thing and what my mom would think if she knew the truth.

I remember being ten and having my mom pull the homework assignments out of the trashcan that I had wadded tightly and hid at the bottom. They were not done. I didn't feel like doing them. I remember the shame of being lazy, rebellious even. I remember the horrifying feeling of being caught; of having the sin you tried so hard to hide being pulled out of the dark pile of trash, examined, being deemed guilty, and then punished.

I remember the striving to be right, to be good, to impress, to be somebody and the constant disappointment at not measuring up, always getting it wrong, always feeling overlooked, and never quite enough...

I remember being the quiet, shy girl who at 12 was sat down in front of my teacher, was told how disappointed she was, and how she was even considering suspending me. My very first boyfriend had been taken from me by the largest girl in the class, the one who constantly fished for compliments in the girl's bathroom, "I am fat, aren't I?" to which everyone always assured her she wasn't. I let the hurt eat away my quiet, 12-year-old heart until I blurted out one day, "You're right. You're just a fat cow!" The hurt. The shame. The knowing I had never done anything worth being noticed except this one horrifyingly mean act. The knowing that even though I had cried, "Fat!," someone could have yelled at me, "Wiry, skinny, boob-less nobody!"

I remember the seeking out approval from young men, the flirtatiousness, the pleasure at attention... and the bitter taste of a broken heart, the lack of fulfillment because one person's attention was never enough...

the emptiness... the constant wondering if I was enough... trying so hard to not be a nobody, to be noticed, but always that sinking feeling in the back of my mind no matter how much attention I could receive that I was, in fact, a nobody.

I remember the fear... of life, of failure, of never again feeling okay...

I remember the sewing needle, the box cutter, the kitchen knife against my skin... the infliction of pain to somehow release the pain I felt inside... the thoughts of taking my own life... even planning it...



Oh those bitter herbs. The maror producing salty tears on my face.



But I am glad. Thankful. Deeply grateful. I have been set free. And though I am like the complaining Israelites, when life gets hard I sometimes want to go back, pick up my old ways and thoughts... but when I  remember the bitter taste... I can't. I know how great a salvation I have been given.

The Seder doesn't end with bitter herbs. There is the spotless lamb on that table. The bread without leaven that is broken. The wine that is poured out into 4 glasses each representing a promise of God: "I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, and I will rid you from their slavery, and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm, and with great judgments. And I will take you to me for a people"

Christ, the spotless lamb whose sinless body was broken and blood poured out so that I could be set free and be called a Child of God. 

I am free. I am not the same. I am forgiven. In Him, I am enough. I have joy. I have peace. I can love, and I am loved. I am a Child of God.

The bitter herbs washed down with Communion.



Wishing you and yours a wonderful Easter.
xo


Oh and by the way, I fact checked and found some additional information about the Seder for this post by reading Exodus 13 and looking here.

Holy Week: "Searching Our Hearts"...For Kids!

Today for our preschool time, Addy and I talked about searching our hearts for things that we need to get rid of. See the previous post.

Since we are on the letter "E," an egg can be used to represent our heart (spiritually), and egg hunts are just downright fun, I made some things that I thought Addy could understand and recognize as things that we need to get out of our hearts and put them in the eggs.

That's the "Preschool Wall" in my Cabinet of Awesome. Click if you want to check out the whole cabinet. I love it!

I just wrote on a super official piece of white paper using an even more official purple crayon, and, of course, that purple crayon was in the hand of a master drawer.  You like my angry face? Ha! Since she's 3, I just came up with 4 things.

I cut them out, folded them up and place one in each egg.

I added an extra egg into our hunt. I wanted one egg to represent having Jesus in your heart. Since having Jesus in your heart is pretty sweet and candy is sweet, I put a candy in one egg.

I hid the eggs.

Addy went out and found them.

Then we gathered them up and talked about our findings.

Sometimes we get bad stuff in our hearts. We need help to not be mean, jealous... We need Jesus to come in and empty our hearts of the bad stuff. Jesus will live in our heart if we ask Him to.

We prayed and asked for help. Mommy prayed for help too.

Simple.

I love teaching Addy about Jesus.

Holy Week: "Spring Cleaning"

It's Holy Week...

I know, no shocking news there.

But it always makes me think of the obvious things: the Triumphal Entry, the Last Supper, the Cross, and the Resurrection...

but especially the Last Supper.

The Passover Meal.

The first Passover marked the deliverance of the Israelites from slavery, from Egypt. They were instructed to pack their bags and eat with their shoes on their feet. They placed the blood of a spotless lamb over their doorposts and ate the lamb. Then the angel of death passed over them and wiped out the first born sons in Egypt.

After that first Passover, the Israelites were instructed to observe the Passover every year as a memorial of what God had done for them. They were instructed in the days leading up to the Passover to rid their homes of "chametz" (leaven). They were to search their home from top to bottom and get rid of anything that could potentially have the presence of leaven. For seven days the Israelites were commanded to not have leaven... no where with in their borders. Then they were to partake in a special meal called the Seder, each bit of the meal reminding them of some part of their time in Egypt. They were to retell the story of the first Passover. They were told to remember. They were told to celebrate. I was curious as to what this looked like today in the Jewish community. If you are curious too, here is a link to an article I read.

Leaven represents sin. Just as the smallest bit of leaven can cause an entire batch of dough to rise, the tiniest bit of impurity can skew the way we think, the way we talk, and the way we live. "Do you not know that a little leaven leavens the whole lump of dough? Clean out the old leaven so that you may be a new lump, just as you are in fact unleavened" (1 Corithians 5: 6-7, NASB). 

In reading up on the Jewish customs for getting rid of "chametz" in preparation for the Passover, I was struck by the thoroughness of the search. Homes are to be "spot-free" from leaven. Not a trace. Do I even have a measure of that fervency in seeking out sin in my life? I realize Jesus gives me Grace that is sufficient to cover my sins and shortcomings. But doesn't He call me to a life of Holiness? (1 Pet. 1:16) I think of John 3:16 and Ephesians 3:18-19 and know that I am loved by God with such a great fervency...especially in the light of the approaching Good Friday. I need to take time to be fervent.

Since it is Spring (spring cleaning) and Holy week this week, I am doing some cleaning in my own heart.

It is long past time to clean out my heart. I need to find the unforgiveness I might hold against another that creeps out when I feel overcome by the urge to share with someone who has no business knowing what kind of wrong was done to me (gossip). I need to find the selfishness that causes a volcano of yelling and snappy words to erupt when people (namely my kids and my husband) don't do what I want them to. I need to find the pride that causes me to think I deserve more... Hmmm... I think I could go on a while... Spring cleaning in this temple is definitely past due!

My Prayers this week:

Search me, O God, and know my heart;
Try me and know my anxious thoughts;
And see if there be any hurtful way in me,
And lead me in the everlasting way. 

                                 -Psalm 139:23-24, NASB

Be gracious to me, O God, according to Your lovingkindness;
According to the greatness of Your compassion blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity
And cleanse me from my sin.
For I know my transgressions,
And my sin is ever before me.
Against You, You only, I have sinned
And done what is evil in Your sight,
So that You are justified when You speak
And blameless when You judge.
Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity,
And in sin my mother conceived me.
Behold, You desire truth in the innermost being,
And in the hidden part You will make me know wisdom.
Purify me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
Make me to hear joy and gladness,
Let the bones which You have broken rejoice.
Hide Your face from my sins
And blot out all my iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O God,
And renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me away from Your presence
And do not take Your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of Your salvation
And sustain me with a willing spirit.
Then I will teach transgressors Your ways,
And sinners will be converted to You.
Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God, the God of my salvation; Then my tongue will joyfully sing of Your righteousness.
O Lord, open my lips,
That my mouth may declare Your praise.
For You do not delight in sacrifice, otherwise I would give it;
You are not pleased with burnt offering.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
A broken and a contrite heart, O God, You will not despise. 
                              -Psalm 51:1-17, NASB

By the way, I have some other stuff on my heart to share this Holy Week. So do look forward to more tomorrow.
xo 

Hey Mom!

I thought I would give you a photoclip from our weekend... mostly for laughs.

Clearly Addy got into my makeup. I guess girlfriend thought the mascara wand could work just like lip gloss. TOO Funny!

Also notice the masking tape memo on her shirt. She is loving her preschool class at church. Her immediate response when I asked her the question was: "In my HEAhT!!!" (because she still can't say her "r's" So precious!)

Mike is now officially on spring break! Yes! He's still working hard, but at least he is home in the evenings all this week and home for Easter weekend.
:)

And since I put up a picture of Addy... here's one of Jed.

I so tried! Haha!

Happy Easter Week Friends!
xo



As a reminder... the pictures on this site are my pictures. You may NOT use them. Unless of course you ask first and I grant you permission. Thanks for your respect!

A Pink Sock Covered in Cheerios

Two days ago, my day looked something like this:

My husband returns home from work. I hear the jingle of keys, a familiar deep voice calling down to someone from the stoop, the turn of the dead bolt, and then the sound of tromping boots... man has entered the abode.

"Hey, Amanda, do you mind if Martin uses our bathroom to change before we go study?"

"Um... sure... lemme just, uh, grab some stuff out of it." And by stuff I mean, picking up a pile of clothes complete with bra and underwear, shoving all things on the counter into the drawers in one mad sweep, and throwing a fresh roll of t.p. onto the back of the toilet just in case the current one runs out. I glance at the pile of bath toys and the baby bath I haven't used in months but haven't had the time (or memory is more like it) to put in storage. I choose to let them stay put. It's not ideal, but I only have so much time before Martin makes it up the stairs.

I exit the bathroom, my eyes peeking over the top of laundry pile in my hands to see not just Mike's classmate but his cute, young wife as well. My eyelids expand to take in the extra bit of reality while my nostrils widen to breathe in that same reality and let it back out.

My house is a disaster.

I have two doe-eyed newlyweds standing in my disaster.

I walk back into the room and try my little heart out to be warm, welcoming, conversational, but it's almost as though my brain turns into a camera seeking out messes in autozoom:

I see the baby's snack tray on his jumper crusted in browned avocado slime from the day's lunch.

I see the car seat that for some reason is in the middle of the living room and upside down.

I see the pink Disney princess blanket haphazardly lying over couch and floor.

I see every single one of my pillows I just made to make my seating "warm and welcoming" warming random places on the carpet.

I see every toy from Elmo to the play broom scattered on top of the office desk, on the recliner, on the dining table and sprinkled across the carpet.

And then, I look down and see, in all of it's glory, one pink little Addy-sock covered in gooey Jed-cheerios lying in the middle of the room... right below the black leather boots of my new acquaintance.

Don't look at the mess. Don't clean it up. Stop apologizing for the mess it just draws attention to it. Stop feeling uncomfortable you'll make them uncomfortable. Focus on your  mess  guests. Focus on your guests. Focus on your guests. I know. These are the first rules of being a good hostess with surprise guests. I couldn't help it. I cleaned. In my own defense I was cleaning when they arrived. I had been out of town the day prior and out of town a few days before that. I had only gotten my daughter's room picked up, organized, wiped down and vacuumed... if only we could have hung out in there. I see the vacuum cleaner that is out in the living room and waiting for order to be restored to the great room so it can be used. Maybe they will know that I am in the middle of cleaning. My mind continues. I am really not a messy person, well, not this messy anyways. Can I tell them that I have been out of town? Maybe they won't notice. Stop thinking your the center of everyone's mind, they probably aren't thinking of you or what kind of housekeeper you are... right?

And the deep underlying thoughts: They won't think I am a bad mom/housekeeper/wife, will they?They will know that I am enough, right?

I sometimes wish I had seen a few more cheerio-socks in other women's houses before I had kids. I have these dang expectations that somehow I have to be able to do it all because the hundreds of women's houses who I grew up going to, scrambled to shove their short-comings into their "mess space" (you know, the room, the drawer, the closet, the under-the-bed... everyone has their last minute cram space). I know some people are immaculate housekeepers and some are the polar opposite, and, as I get older and wiser, I am finding that most people are somewhere in between. Living happens in their living spaces.

So, here's the honest, hard, cold truth of it. That pink sock might want to speak to me and tell me that I am not enough. Why can't you love on your kids and your husband, cook dinner, do laundry, keep the house clean, make time for God, friends and yourself, keep up your writing, do the little projects, wear the make-up, do your hair, never wear pajamas past 9 am, and return from out of town without missing a beat? And how in the world does one end up with a hot pink sock covered in Cheerios in the middle of the flow of traffic in their living area... and on the one day they have surprise company?! But...Everyone lives in their living spaces. Cheerio-crusted pink socks are just the beautiful evidence that God blessed me with a little girl who is free-spirited and comfortable enough to run through our house barefoot, and the evidence of a healthy little 9 month old boy who has gotten the finger-thumb-to-mouth down and is crawling and cruising all over the place...and taking his Cheerios with him. That pink sock covered in cheerios is a monument (albeit one I will quickly clean up) of God's blessings on my life.

I have two small kids. They are healthy. They are active. They make messes. I am blessed.

I am blessed and I am enough.

I can't do it all. But I am enough.

I am enough whether my new friend, Mrs. Martin, thinks I should win housekeeper of the year... or not. I am enough even if she visited and made a mental list of the things she "will never do" when she has kids. I like to think that one day Mrs. Martin will have small mess-making machines for children (I am convinced most kids just come that way), and she will remember that pink sock in my great room and know sometimes messes are reality. She is still blessed and not any less of a woman/housekeeper/mom/wife for having them.

Your welcome Mrs. Martin! I am linked up at

Searching for Spring

Today, armed with a camera, magnifying glass and sunglasses, Me and the kiddos headed to the park in search of spring.

Addy and I had a nice little discussion earlier in the morning over Google images about seasons. We talked about some signs that would indicate spring was here.

Let's go find spring!

 We found it in little tiny white flowers sprinkled across the grass...

In pink daisies...

 In red and purple lilies...

 In sun-kissed periwinkle...

And fully opened tulips. (Mom loves bulb flowers! Who wants to visit Daffodil Hill with me?!)

We found spring in snowy blossoms--the dead of winter unable to keep new life from springing forth.

Spring is in freshly dressed willow trees wearing the bright greens of this season.

Spring is reflected on the canvas of water. I stand in awe of God because creating the world and breathing new life into it every spring simply wasn't creative enough for God, He also decided to leave paintings of beauty on the water's reflection. And we dub Claude Monet the Father of Impressionist Art??

 We discovered the culprit to the "rat-ta-tat" sound in the trees.

We were hoping to see some baby wildlife, but we still saw evidence that love is in the air.

 Spring is in the shimmering gold-haired little girl beside the glistening waters,

In wildflowers amongst the not-yet-awakened vineyards,

And in the the intoxicating aroma of mustard-flowered fields (ah-choo! Just kidding...).

Spring is the beautiful days that require the windows rolled down and I discover how natural it is to stretch out hands in worship to the Lord... to delight in each day... "This is the day that the Lord has made...

...I will rejoice...

...and be glad in it!"

 I will take off my socks and let my toes feel the sunshine...

I will take my Claritin and forget that it's allergy season, forget that I have a million things to do, forget that yesterday I kept getting frustrated and yelling at a child who refused to listen, forget that I got a grand total of 4 and a 1/2 hours of sleep because a baby's gums were swollen with moving teeth... I will rejoice in the day! I will be child-like and my hair will be wind-blown! I will discover new life and new days!

Happy Spring to you!
Do take a day off to enjoy it!
xo