Begin Again

I’ve done it again.

The thing I vowed to never do and the thing I knew was oh-so wrong, even as I found myself doing it.

My husband has left the house for a few hours to cool off and I sit alone shame-faced, tear-smeared, and utterly disappointed in myself.

Not but four days ago I remember writing in my journal how I was giving up being negative for the month of September. And now I am eating those written words like a bitter pill.

I screwed up… again.

I silently wish over and over that I could do tonight all over, to not be critical, to hold my tongue, to pray instead of voice my disapproval in such a nasty and disrespectful tone of voice…

Oh God, could I just start over? Please?

And it’s not until now that I remember the words of St. Benedict: “Always we begin again.” And I think about what it means, in my faith, to be born again.

So often I want the development of my character (and the character of others) to be a neat and tidy process. I want to look back and see a steady progression into a better person, more self-controlled, patient… (I could keep going).

But all too often I look at my journey and I see a tangle of stuff– good things and bad growing up together. One stupid habit abolished only to be replaced with another one, equally as detrimental. I see plateaus and back-slides and screw up after screw up– the same ones over and over again!

If I look at the world, I don’t often see much grace for this kind of messy progress or lack of improvement. If I look into myself, I don’t always see hope, especially when I’m here–sitting on the couch waiting for my husband to come home so I can apologize once again for being the way I don’t ever want to be.

But I do see hope in those words.

Always we begin again.

And I think of the way life is.

How trees say goodbye to their own leaves each fall, and how they start from scratch come spring.

How each January the first, most of the world makes promises and vows that are oddly similar to last year’s.

How, in the beginning, children need you oh-so badly, and then they grow to leave you and be needed by their own little ones.

How even though I’ve been born already, 28 years ago to my then 28-year-old mother, I was born into a different kind of life at age 20–a life that is now reminding me of my need for a kind of grace which I cannot get from the world at large.

Always we begin again.

I see that supernatural grace in the eyes of my husband, who knows Jesus, when he holds me once again. I see it when I wake up in the morning with the permission to be different, to “put on” the woman I know I can be despite the woman I was last night. I see it when I forgive my parents for the things I’ve vowed to do differently for my daughter. When I let my upstairs neighbor borrow my vacuum for the sixth time this week and patiently explain how to use the new washing machine (I’ve lost count of the number of times).

I see it in God’s love– a love like a kid loves a raggedy old stuffed doll to pieces. And I know that I am that ragged little doll. And I know He loves the stuffing out of me. It makes no sense. And that’s why it’s grace.

And I know that I must give myself this love-grace too. Otherwise, I don’t think I am ever really able to begin again.

So tonight I’m starting over. And when I screw up in this same way a few days, weeks, or months down the road, I will breathe deep, let go, and I will begin again.

Always.

Advertisements

Mommy-Jeans: wearing the motherhood I want to wear, and wearing it well

I wake up to the sound of her babbling in the next room. Lately she has been fascinated by blowing raspberries with her lips. I briefly wonder why they call it that– blowing raspberries– as I look at the clock.

5:30am.

I lay in bed for another five minutes, praying that she goes back to sleep for another two hours, but I know better. I don’t even bother looking at my husband; I know he’s sound asleep, the lack of those ever-hearing “mom ears” keeping his sleep peaceful and uninterrupted. I try not to be jealous.

Something happens to me as I pull on jeans and a zip hoodie over my ever-trusty and completely over-worn nursing tank: I become Mommy again.

I tip-toe out of the bedroom and swing the door open into her’s, switching on the lights as I do. My sluggish and exhausted body is no longer acting sluggish or exhausted. I am Mommy. And so I energetically sing our morning song to the little 6-month-old girl who is giving me the best open-mouthed grin I could possibly hope to wake up to.

“It’s time to rise and shine and give God the glory! Rise and shine and give Him the glory! Rise and shine and give God the glory! Give Him all our praise!” 

For the next two-ish hours before her morning nap, I am Mommy. And when I say that I become Mommy, I don’t mean that I wasn’t a mother before I got out of bed. But lately I have been thinking about my motherhood as something that I put on like clothing–a new pair of jeans that need breaking in as well as some time to clean up in the wash, and to give my stretch-marked tummy some room to breathe once in a while.

This allows me to be more intentional with my motherhood; thinking about what kind of Mommy I want to be. One that responds in the way she feels at 5:30am when she was up three times during the night and really just wishes her husband would get up with the baby and let her sleep in a little, or one that chooses joy and sings the morning song even before the coffee’s on or hair is brushed?

One that looks in the mirror and reverts back to old wounds, wishing these birthing scars would disappear, or one that chooses to see beauty and life across the abdomen that stretched to become a home for this incredible little child that now sits on the hip, curiously reaching for this and that?

One that looks back longingly at the life she used to have of staying up late, spending hours training for marathons, drinking coffee all day long, and working long hours out of the home, or one that lets go of the things that used to formulate her identity so she can embrace a new responsiblity–rather, the best opportunity– to become another’s whole world for a period of time?

I know myself.

I know that if I get too cozy in my motherhood, I become lazy, disillusioned, bitter, and I forget what’s important to the Mommy I know I need to be.

But if I step into motherhood–the motherhood that I want to give to my daughter–I wear it so much more gracefully.

I become better able to deny my selfishness, to embrace imperfection, and to choose joy, even when it’s hard.

And when this motherhood I wear gets tired, frayed at the edges, and a little dirtied by grass stains or spit-up, I can peal it off for a little while, for the sake of my sanity and my family, and rest while those Mommy-jeans get cleaned up.

How can I peal off my motherhood?

By arranging for my husband to wake up with the baby so I can run three miles at the local park. By taking nap time to journal with a cup of tea, or try out a new paleo recipe I’ve been wanting to make. By asking a friend to watch the kid while I grab some groceries at Mariano’s, and take my time browsing while sipping a fresh-squeezed drink from the juice-bar. By going to MOPS and BSF, and taking care of my husband, and coaching praise dance, and getting together with friends, and by just being myself, who is more than “just a stay-at-home-mommy”.

Pealing off motherhood means you need a break every so often. It means you can rest while God scrubs up the kind of motherhood He wants you to wear. It means that He sanctifies and fortifies your role as a mother so that you can be the Mommy who sings in the morning and laughs at the bow-out diapers and knows that no matter how hard it is to run errends in between naptimes, that life is so much more full and excellent now that there is this beautiful new person in the world that you get to be “Mommy” to.

It’s 8:30am now, and baby girl is yawning, and rooting around to nurse and fall asleep. I have worn my motherhood well this morning, despite my exhaustion– praise God! And as I lay her down in her crib, noise machine going and her belly full of breastmilk, I tip-toe out of that bright, patient, energized, and positive motherhood, and I fall into the arms of Jesus.

Like a dirty pair of jeans, He washes “Mommy” up, while Claire rests in the presence of her Strength and Hope…and maybe a bubble bath. I know in about an hour and a half, I’ll have to put on that motherhood again, and I know it will be ready and waiting for me, clean and fresh and replenished as only it can be when I leave it to The Lord.

It’s a new thing–this Mommy role– and I want to wear it well always. But I know I cannot possibly do it alone.

 

 

One Word 2016

My-One-Word-300x180“If you’re like most people, each January goes something like this: You choose a problematic behavior that has plagued you for years and vow to reverse it. In fact, you can probably think of two or three undesirable habits—make that four or five…”

These words can be found on the now wildly popular One Word Website.  And oh, how true they are. This time of year seems to be the time for a litany of imperfections to be perfected and a throng of promises to be made commonly titled as “New Year’s Resolutions.

At the gym I work at, we have an expectation that the Monday after January 1st will be crowded with people who have vowed to “get their life back together” by coming to cycle classes and pumping iron in the weight room. My boss tells us to be ready for the New Years crowd, but we all know that that crowd will disperse by mid-February.

And so it seems to be the case with other new years focus on problematic areas in need of correction.

Workout regimes fall to the wayside, diets are broken, cuss words are spoken, and those pictures we told ourselves we’d finally take or put into photo albums remain caught behind lenses or just not taken at all. It seems that the juggling act of trying to improve different parts of our already messy and chaotic lives is just too hard. How can we stay consistent with self-improvement when our focus is split into fractured pieces– our work life, our love life, our families, our personal fitness goals, our dreams, our desires for a better “me”?– it seems impossible to focus on all of it!

The idea behind Mike Ashcraft and Rachel Olsen’s “One Word” philosophy is that we can do something about one thing this year instead of nothing about everything. They encourage you to boil it down to just one single word, to move beyond the cycle of long lists of changes you want to make that never get tackled.

“This process provides clarity by taking all your big plans for life change and narrowing them down into a single focus. Just one word that centers on your character and creates a vision for your future.-myoneword.org

I was first introduced to this idea by one of my best friends, who told me that God always gave her a word that He used to teach her through each year. I thought I felt God using specific words to teach me as well, but I never formally chose one single word to keep my thoughts tethered to during these lessons.

Finally, I was encouraged by another friend to actually pick my “one word” last year, and, although I don’t think I lived it out perfectly, it was helpful to have one theme to keep coming back to  throughout 2015.

My one word last year was “Slow”, which came, unknowingly at the time, during a year that would prove to be chaotic, shifting and a complete whirl-wind.

Having to keep coming back to the word “Slow” kept me grounded during times of change, patient during times of waiting, and calm during times when I normally would have lost my head.

This one word reminded me to breathe when I wanted to just walk out of my classroom full of students and never go back. It kept me patient when our heater wasn’t working in subzero weather and when water leaked all over the floor, pulling up the tile and making it impossible to walk anywhere without slipping or getting a shoe-full of dirty water.

This one word kept me from making hasty decisions when we were house-hunting, and kept me silent when I normally would have exploded with frustration at husband’s and my disagreements.

It kept me patient and plodding along as I trained for my second marathon, restless to race through a long trek that was going to take more out of me than I expected.

This one word kept me from jumping to conclusions when misunderstandings with family and friends arose. It kept me patient and prayerful when I got the letter in the mail that I was no longer employed by CPS, and it kept me hopeful and trusting when I still didn’t have a position number or a paycheck as 109 students met me in my classroom on the first day of school.

“Slow” kept me restful when I was sick and itching to get out of bed and get back to work.

It kept me patient with myself and determined when I was so depressed that I dreaded getting out of bed in the morning to go to a job that I hated.

“Slow” kept me patient with myself during the ongoing transition into working with my husband at a job I had no idea how to do. It kept me calm during times when I felt frustrated with my lack of progress, reminding me that this might be a slow process, and that it was more than okay.

“Slow” also showed me areas in my faith walk that I had skipped over, impatient to grow in places where God had not yet given in the increase for lack of my quiet and calm attention. He scaled me back with “Slow” so I could be nursed in areas I needed to mature in, a slow process that I couldn’t rush through no matter how determined or strong-willed I was.

I’m not saying I did it perfectly– there were plenty of times I flew off the handle and was completely out of control when I should have been slow and calm, as my husband, friends, and students will be quick to tell you– but this word “Slow” helped me keep it together more than I normally would during a year when I needed to rest, have patience, refrain from rushing into decisions, be extremely calm, and have painstaking endurance.

“Slow” permeated into all areas of my life– my personal life, my relationships, my work, the forming– or rather, the unraveling– of my identity, my faith walk, and even my health.

Rock4And so this year I trust that the word God is giving me will be perfectly designed to get me through 2016, even if I do not live it out perfectly.

As this new year was approaching I began to ask God what word He wanted me to focus on. Over and over again I kept hearing one word repeated to me, but I didn’t want to listen. You see, it was sort of a scary word for me, and I was hoping that it might be something else. 

But as I scanned my journals, BSF lecture notes, written prayers, and even the songs I had been listening and dancing in worship to, I knew that this was the word He was giving me.

 My one word for this year is “Surrender”.

Is there a more important word in the life of a Christ follower? But even more personally, is there a more important word in the life of a control-freak, type-A, worrier like myself?

I think not.

And so, as I look towards the year ahead, there are definitely some big decisions, plans, and changes coming along down the road. And I’m going to need to surrender all of them to God. 

This doesn’t mean that I don’t do anything about anything or have no part to play in what happens. It just means that I will take every thought, decision, action, and plan captive to Christ Jesus, and be obedient to Him and Him alone. It means letting go of expectation and preference so that I am I indifferent to any choice that is not Jesus-approved. Surrendering my plans, my dreams, my body, my mind, my desires, and my plan to Him and allowing God to really take control of where I end up.

Hm. Sounds a lot like what it means to follow Jesus doesn’t it? I should probably have been doing this already…

But to have a whole year to focus on simply surrendering… is a little scary because it requires complete trust in what I cannot plainly see. (That’s what faith is isn’t it?)

I remember when I first became a Christian about 6 years ago, laying in bed imagining what my life would be like, and God clearly spoke to me saying, “Claire, your life is not going to be anything like what you can dream up right now.”

I still believe that is true today, and that no matter how many times I envision the future, my life is not going to be like anything I can imagine.

And so far, that has proved to be true.

The thing that makes it less scary is that I wouldn’t change it for the world. So I guess I can trust Him, can’t I?

I know I have little hope of living out a long list of resolutions that I might want to make– get up every morning at 5:30am, workout everyday, get certified in 6 different fitness formats, master html and photoshop, open up an online store….. I could go on.

But I can do my very best, with God’s help, at living out one word to the best of my ability, and to allow it to permeate all areas of my life.

And with a word like “Surrender”, I guess I have no choice but to let it control everything I’ve got.

What’s your “one word” for 2016? I’d love to read about what word you’re going to live out this year!