Archive | thoughts

transition.

August 12, 2013 at 2:06 pm

I always felt like every year in college was totally different from the year before… almost like I was attending a different school each time. Some things stayed the same — the Lawn, mochas in the library, and tried and true friends that I’d had since school started — but everything else shifted. New faces became dear and familiar. A new house or roommate changed my living experience. New professors or classes changed my school experience. New organizations or clubs (or friends to enjoy a slow glass of red wine with) changed my social life.

All these things made each year entirely different than the last.

Real life is like this, military life especially. Every year people arrive. You might even add a new baby to your family… how’s that for major transition!

I am feeling the crunch of transition right now. I looked at my “Favorites” list of numbers in my phone and realized all those friends have moved away. (Well, except my husband, thank goodness.) At my women’s Bible study in the fall, I will only know about 5 people there instead of 20; everyone else has moved away. The friends that we have loved and relied upon since Day 1 in Sicily are no longer here.

And suddenly we’ve turned into the old fogies. We’re now the ones who speak the most Italian (what?!), the ones who know the best places to eat here, the ones who know where to park there, the ones who can lead the caravan of friends’ cars instead of follow it, the ones who can say, “Well, two years ago winter storms killed the orange blossoms, but last winter it wasn’t so bad, and so I think the blood oranges will be plentiful this year.”

(^ dork alert ^)

Suddenly, even more frighteningly, I am the one who needs to welcome, invite, include, initiate. I have always been on the other end of this, first as the newbie and then as just a friend. Now there are so many people who need me, who need to be found, who need to be befriended, who need another mom who will suggest we pack multiple children into hot cars and head off on a mid-week adventure, just because it’s Sicily and why not?!

Can I love as I have been loved? Can I — with mere months left here — hold open my arms and say, “Hi! Want to be my friend? Are you free on Thursday?”

Last night Elliott and I were praying together, and I prayed that we would “make room” in our lives for new friends. I called this blog “Making Room” because we want this to be a habit in our lives: welcoming people into our home, offering friends and travelers our guest room, having new and old friends over to dinner, participating in Bible studies/community groups that include whole families in each other’s houses, seeking out needs of others and clearing our schedules so that we can meet these needs.

We’re not good at this. We confront our own selfishness (or busyness, or introverted-ness, or exhaustion, or internal strife… this is a safe space!) every day. When faced with these frustrations, we usually choose to make excuses instead of making sacrifices. We choose self over service every day.

But thankfully, we have two things to combat our selfishness and help us “make room” this year.

The first is that we serve a God who not only made room for us in His Kingdom but gave life to us, welcoming us just as we were and then gently and faithfully continuing to sanctify us year by year.

The second is that we have had wonderful examples. So many friends here have opened up their lives, homes, refrigerators, minivans, and hearts for us, welcoming us just as we were. They have never assumed anything of us, other than that we’d like to be included. They have made this strange and wonderful land a home for us, a place we love because they loved it first and showed us why.

Can we do this for others? Can we seek out the newcomers and tell them what we’ve learned? Can we catch them before they escape after church, shy and overwhelmed, and ask them about themselves? Can we get their numbers and invite them to dinner? Can we take them to our favorite beaches, pizzerias, hiking trails, and agriturismi?

Can we love as we have been loved?

12 :: in friends, military life, my faith, Sicily, thoughts

a mom doesn’t go on vacation

June 14, 2013 at 8:43 pm

a completely unrelated photo of me and my babies from a foggy morning in Sicily

It’s a quiet mid-afternoon on Friday. I’m sitting outside on my parents’ deck with Elliott; Gil is lying on a blanket at our feet gazing up at the trees; Lena is napping upstairs.

I love being “home” in Virginia. My mom takes amazing care of us and I always feel so pampered while I’m here. I wake up in the morning to a pot of hot coffee (that I didn’t brew myself!) and a big smile… and arms that are eager to hug my little ones and take them away from me so I can rest.

I’m learning anew how important rest is for a mother. After this past weekend — still jet lagged after running around at UVA Reunions — I felt so burned out. I think part of it was the realization that I, as a mother, was not really on vacation. Elliott was all smiles and un-knotting muscles; he had left work behind him and was free! But I was looking at the upcoming month in Virginia and realizing that it looked discouragingly… familiar.

My work does not end just because it’s the summer or because I’m home in Virginia or because Elliott isn’t going to work every day. My work continues: waking up around 6:30 when the first baby is up, putting them down for naps throughout the day, providing activities for both of them (tea parties, walks, playgrounds, books, rolling over, etc.), getting three ~~nutritious~~ meals on the table for Lena, administering discipline with compassionate listening, putting them to bed, waking up to comfort them in the night, and so on and so forth.

My mom and Elliott help with everyone one of these tasks. However, the ultimate responsibility for all of these things rests on me. I need to make sure my children are rested, fed, bathed, nurtured. I am the caretaker of my family, a weighty and wonderful and never-ceasing responsibility.

It’s somewhat overwhelming to look at this work of mine as never ending. (Now, of course there will be different stages to this work. Babies are not the same as middle school children, and middle school children are not the same as college graduates. But still.) For the rest of my life, I’ll be a mom. I’ll always feel a sense of responsibility to care for my children, to meet their needs before my own, to love them no matter our age or stage in life. I’ll never be “free” of this. Illustrations like “motherhood is a marathon” fall short because in some ways the marathon will never be over. I won’t stop running — caring — until the day I die.

And the prospect of that is somewhat terrifying. I have been thinking about it a lot this week, seeking perspective and clarity. The truth is I must learn to find rest and solace in the midst of this work. Resigning is not an option. Two babies and a wonderful husband are counting on me. They need me. Right now.

So what do I do? While I don’t have a single, brilliant solution, I have noticed a few things that have helped me lately. They seem so small in the face of the enormity and beauty of this task. But they have helped me to show more grace to my family. And grace is what gets us all through the day, through the marathon, and Home.

Here they are:

Setting goals. At the start of the day I often say, “[X] is the one thing I want to get accomplished today.” It might be sweeping the floors, finishing a book, writing a long-overdue email to a friend or sibling, doing three loads of laundry from start to finish, or even making one particularly dreaded phone call. (I hate the phone.) Having annual goals helps me too… although I’ve been slacking on my 2013 goals lately. Maybe in the second half of this year…?

Asking for help. So simple, so hard. I’m getting better about it since Gil was born. (I need it more since Gil was born; two is so much harder than one.) Also it is absolutely key to ask my husband for help graciously and before I am too desperate. Can I get an “amen”?

Getting enough sleep. I can manage on about 6 hours a night for about 2 weeks and then I fall apart. I’m terrible about putting myself to bed on time, though, and unfortunately so is Elliott! Any tips?

Drinking enough water. At home I have this cupand carry it around the house with me. I need to get back into that habit while in Virginia.

Reading books, essays, or even blogs that affirm this work of motherhood and caring. My favorite book on the topic is Andi Ashworth’s Real Love for Real Life. Two other books I want to read about caregiving are this oneand this one. Do you have any other recommendations?

Finally, prayer and Bible study. Why does this often become so optional to me when it should be my biggest priority?? After reading through the Bible twice since we got married, Elliott and I are mixing things up a bit by reading a book about grace. It’s provoked some great discussion and it’s been good to read together.

——–

How do you pace yourself in the midst of this great, vacation-less work of motherhood?

10 :: in Becoming a Stay-at-Home Mom Series, motherhood, thoughts

savoring life with my littles… I think

May 9, 2013 at 3:51 pm

“And what’s your plan for the day?” Elliott asked me this morning as he poured coffee into his travel mug.

“Absolutely… nothing… planned,” I replied, sorting through my schedule and coming up empty. “Maybe we’ll take a walk?”

“Sounds nice,” he sighed wistfully. “Taking a walk, reading books, all with your kids….” With that he kissed us all goodbye and walked out the door for another day in the vet clinic.

He’s so right, I realized as I sat down on the rug a few minutes later to play with Lena and Gil. It has been good for my soul to be at home with our children these past two years in Sicily. I know that Elliott, too, would trade places with me in heartbeat. And yet for this season of life it’s been my privilege to be the one who gets to be at home.

In an act of thankfulness, I picked up my camera and took some pictures of our morning.

And then I read this article today entitled Don’t Savor Every Moment and have since struggled over posting these pictures. The author of the article challenged the tendency today for young mothers “to take in all of life and to feel the constant beauty of motherhood. We are a generation that puts an incredible premium on happiness.” Her conclusion is that we should learn in every situation to be content (Philippians 4:11) and to let go of the burden of savoring and capturing every moment.

I know that this article was written just for people like me. I know the pressure of wanting to capture these years with my children; I know the desire to edit my life along with my pictures. I often let my motherhood become my identity instead of finding my roots in the renewing work of Christ within me, as the author so aptly put it.

In the end, I am a mother for this season here on earth, at home with two beautiful children, shouldering the weight of parenthood and adult responsibility with a compassionate husband. Yet this is not my ultimate identity, or my final identity. It is like a spark, here and gone, in the grand scheme of my life and in the far broader swath of eternity. But I love this spark, these moments, and so I savor them for as long as they are given to me.

And so here are the pictures from this morning, already a moment here and gone.

^ Lena read books in bed while I put Gil to bed. She’s proudly showing me the horse she found.

^ I don’t know about you, but I’ve given up on dust covers on children’s books. A stack of them waits to be used again… never?

^ When Gil wakes up, they seem to be saying to each other, “Why… hello there!”

What about you? Do you feel like you meticulously, even frantically, capture and savor every moment? Or do you feel like you’re still waiting for your life to start? Or have you found a balance that gives you roots in a greater story?

18 :: in Becoming a Stay-at-Home Mom Series, home sweet home, motherhood, naptime diaries, thoughts

naptime diaries

April 10, 2013 at 1:36 pm

my babies and me visiting Agrigento, Sicily

Ahh… the quiet calm of the house when two babies are sleeping simultaneously! I’m on the couch savoring every second of the hands-free, sit-down silence.

How has your week been so far? Somehow it’s already Wednesday. It’s market day in our town, and today I decided to walk all the way to the market instead of just halfway to my favorite truck. It was kinda brutal! I had Gil in our Moby wrap and Lena in our stroller in hopes that Gil would sleep more than he does in his car seat. (Fail.) Lena had to stop to use the toilet (ie. some private corner along the way) not once but twice, Gil cried most of the time when he wasn’t lightly asleep, and I should have brought big bottle of water for myself. But I came home with lots of goodies: fresh chicken and eggs, cured olives, three bags of fruits and vegetables, and caught-this-morning shrimp for scampi tonight.

As little update on our fussy baby… well, Gil is almost three months now, although I can hardly believe it! He has changed and grown up so quickly; he really can’t be called a newborn anymore. He recognizes us and coos now, but his smiles are few and far between. Our theory on this is that he’s just more of a grouchy baby who has trouble sleeping deeply and peacefully, and thus his social smile may come later when he can learn to self-soothe and nap on a more regular schedule. Did any of you have a baby who was more reticent than smiley?

The times when he is awake and happy, though, are more frequent and last longer, and they are the most joyful moments of my day. Even though he won’t slip into a full-facial grin more than once or twice a day, he does get so excited and so happy when he makes eye contact with me and hears my voice. His whole face lights up, his eyes get bright and eager, and he kicks so excitedly as he puckers his mouth into a little “O” and coos back at me with all his might. It melts my heart.

We’ve moved Gil into the guest room now than visitors have come and gone. Honestly, that’s been a relief. He still has trouble sleeping, but at least his grunting and snuffling aren’t keeping us up anymore. Generally he sleeps the first shift of the night in his swing (he will not stay asleep in his bed, even if we lay him down when he is completely asleep… trust me, just last night I tried three times before I gave up) and then sleeps in his bed the rest of the night. I get up to feed him at least three times — ouch — but lately that means he has slept in till 8am. I do think a big part of his angst has been congestion (he got sick a couple of weeks after he was born) and reflux, and both of those issues appear to be dying a natural death as he’s growing up.

OK, that was probably more than you wanted to know! For some of you I think it may bring back a lot of memories, whereas for others it might scare you away from ever having children. (Sorry either way!) We’ve been humbled by Gil, who has defied all our expectations as he mostly grumped and grouched his way through his first three months of life. But the glimpses I get into the warm, sunny child blooming inside of him give me hope for the days to come. I see the cute little boy underneath who loves his mama and enjoys his sister’s roughhousing and snuggles peacefully onto his daddy’s chest. These early days will be over before we know it.

Like my friend said the other day, at this stage of life the days often seem like an eternity but the years flash by. Isn’t that so true?

——–

Title for this post is inspired by a wonderful blog that I highly recommend!

8 :: in Gil, motherhood, naptime diaries, thoughts

growing pains in this new life

March 25, 2013 at 4:04 pm

One morning at the villa with my family (see photos from our week away here and here), my mom offered to watch the kids and sent me outside with a magazine. Barely 15 minutes had gone by before she was sheepishly bringing me my crying baby… do you think he knew I left him or something? :)

Anyway, Gil and I stayed there for about an hour. After eating, he eventually dozed off on my shoulder. I asked my brother to take some photos of us. Isn’t it such a beautiful setting? But also, for me, these photos capture a beautiful memory of time with my son.

To be frank with you, these days have been hard. Hard in ways I never anticipated. Gil is two months old today, and these past two months he has spent mostly needing me, fussing/crying/screaming, or tenuously asleep (often next to me). Elliott and I have felt our reserves of patience and perspective draining away, and the result is that we’ve been short-tempered with everyone (each other, Lena, Gil, the cat…).

Basically, in two months Gil has taught us more about the difficulties of parenting than Lena did in two years.

Meanwhile, I have felt such a complete loss of self. I am writing this while sitting on the living room rug surrounded by scattered toys and unfolded laundry. Gil is next to me on a blanket, kicking away and touching my knee with his fist. He is making little noises that tells me his brief happiness will not last much longer. I am wearing my new uniform — yoga pants, nursing tank top, slippers, and whatever hair style I slept in — and I am struggling to find words in my fuzzy, sleep-deprived brain.

*pause to soothe Gil to sleep*

When I say “loss of self,” I mean two things. First there is the natural loss of the person I was: someone who had one child, who could keep a relatively tidy house, who put on regular clothes every morning, who managed to leave the house without every trip turning into a “you aren’t going to believe this” story.

But there is also the loss of self because there is very little room for self anymore in this new life. My baby needs me, my toddler needs me, my husband needs me (and needs not just the leftovers). There’s almost no time to read a book, to work on a knitting project, to read a friend’s blog, to write a long email. The natural response to this — selfishness — predictably and frustratingly just sets us all back instead of moving us forward. And yet selfishness rears its ugly head more than ever when self is continually denied.

I don’t have any well-thought-out, clean way to conclude here, especially as Gil is crying again already. Let me simply say… these pictures give me perspective. Gil, for all his anxious tears these days, is still a handsome, healthy little boy, and more than likely he’ll outgrow this stage. And so will we!

I am so grateful to be a mother. To be his mother. I love him so.