The Drain

Hello All!

I hope your Lenten season is going better than mine (whose bar is depressingly low right now). I have to say I'm disappointed in my steadfastness. I have done pretty well with my no meat lenten fast, but I don't feel that I have accomplished much with it. I'm actually thinking I may extend parts of my lenten sacrifice through the summer. The Great Deceiver has definitely been at work on my person the last few weeks. I am nearing exams, and we've all had bouts of sickness, meaning that I've had to skip class, stay up late (if not all night), and stress about the wacky process of getting into pharmacy school. I always thought I handled stress very well, but throw a couple of kids into the mix and it is a whole new monster!

At times like these, I am fascinated and in awe of single parents. I know I joke about being a preacher's widow, but at least I know that if I need Mike for something, he is usually right down the road. I have the luxury of going places by myself if I need to, and of telling someone else that it's their responsibility to wash the crayon off the wall and change the light bulbs in the nine foot ceiling. And if I whine and complain enough, I can convince my husband to take the kids somewhere for an hour so I can clean without a small person coming directly behind me like a wrecking ball. This also applies to the parents whose spouses work out of town, or for other reasons can't be as available to help at home.

I catch myself complaining all the time about how tired I am, and how the kids are driving me crazy. But four days a week, I spend two hours with a guy who makes me feel so unjustified in those claims. Geoffrey and his wife met and married at a mission in Nigeria, Africa shortly before he came to the states to attend school. How he landed here, I don't know, but I have known him for the last two years and he has greatly blessed my life. His wife is a nurse, and he is an orderly at Cooper Green Hospital in downtown Birmingham (this is commonly known as the indigent hospital). They have two children, who he really only sees on the weekend because he works all night and drives straight to school once he leaves there. He sleeps in his car in between classes. He maybe has an hour or two to go home and change clothes, eat a little something, before he is back at it again. But he insists on taking Saturday for his family and Sunday for the Lord, who he has no reservations about praising in honest joy and sincerity to whoever will listen. We have spent many hours this semester speaking our love of the Lord rather than studying chemistry as we should have been doing, but I can't regret choosing Him over NMR spectra.

I pray for Geoffrey constantly. That he makes it into medical school, that he and his family are blessed by the sacrifices they have to make. That the Lord watches and protects him and his loved ones when they finally move back to their homeland, and that his children don't resent their parents for moving them from 'their' homeland, because they were both born in the U.S. And I pray that God would allow me to feel one tenth of the passion they feel for spreading the Good News of Jesus, no matter what the cost. So every time I feel so drained, like my joy has been leached out of my life, and I start to feel sorry for myself, I will remember Geoffrey, and cry tears of joy, sorrow, worry, and hallelujah over such a beautiful and inspiration man.

Creative and Disastrous

cre·a·tive

   [kree-ey-tiv]  Show IPA

–adjective

1.

having the quality or power of creating.

2.

resulting from originality of thought, expression, etc.;imaginative: creative writing.

3.

originative; productive (usually followed by of ).

dis·as·trous

   

[dih-zas-truhs, -zah-struhs]  Show IPA

–adjective

1.

causing great distress or injury; ruinous; very unfortunate;calamitous: The rain and cold proved disastrous to hishealth.

2.

Archaic . foreboding disaster.

I think that anyone who has kids can testify that these two words can easily coexist. My son is four and apparently exercising his artistic side. A few days ago, I came home to find my husband outside on the phone, my daughter taking a nap, and my son creating a crayola masterpiece on the living room wall. I instantly bustled him into the car, drove to Publix, and purchased a large box of Magic Erasers. His punishment was not getting a free cookie at the bakery. I thought about making him do the erasing, but even though this is an awesome product, it does take some elbow grease. I used up 1.5 erasers by the time I was done. 

Fast forward to a half hour ago. You may find this very bizarre, but I can go days without going into my son's room. The reason for this is that it is basically his play room (he either sleeps on the couch or with us...which is a whole other story). I don't even remember why I walked in there, because I got distracted by the astonishingly diverse types of media used to draw on his royal blue walls. Included in this artistic display are chalks, colored pencils, crayons, and ink pen. His use of space is surprisingly effective. He has marked every wall, but it is proportional to the wall space...not too little, not too much, no space completely bare. Even the sides of his black tv and his window! WHAT?!?!?!

The poor sweet boy, what am I going to do with him? He is so active, yet so big hearted. He wears his heart on his sleeve. I didn't even yell at him, just spoke sternly to him, and you would have thought he had lost his best friend. He didn't cry or run away, just went and laid down on the couch. He would have been in much bigger trouble had I actually caught him in the act, but it could have been there for days and I never noticed. 

And here's the rub...how do I explain to him that the house we live in isn't ours? We can't just act like we have the right to do whatever we want in the house we live in, because it is owned by the church. Even though we have come so far from the time when clergy families owned nothing but the clothes on their back and a few mementos, and everything else belonged to the parsonage (to include linens and silverware!), Mike and I still view 'our' home as belonging to the congregation and try to take care of it as stewards instead of owners. I think this is one of the huge struggles that children of clergy struggle with. Until we can save enough to buy our own little getaway somewhere, we essentially live off of the charity of others, which is humbling to an adult and fearful to a child or adolescent who has the ability to understand this. 

I didn't mean for this to be such a long post. Just wondering how other people deal with these kind of issues!

It's been a while

Hello friends! If you have been wondering where I've been, don't feel bad. I have wondered that myself lately. I have been gearing up for a big chemistry test being given this Thursday. So between studying and procrastinating in cleaning the house, I've been busy!

Recently I have been contemplating the plight of parents with young children. I love my kids, but sometimes I feel like I am letting Mike and the church at large down due to my lack of participation. I know that modern preachers wives aren't expected to be free church labor anymore, but the truth is, I really WANT to be free church labor. If I had the choice, I could spend all of my free time at the church helping out with various committees. I miss the old days before everything was outsourced, when a group of people would gather every Thursday morning to fold and stuff bulletins. I wish I could spend every night practicing choir and handbells, attending Emmaus reunion groups and Beth Moore bible studies. My kids keep me tied to a nursery/preschool /Sunday school/naptime/bedtime regimen that falls on me to organize and enforce since Mike's schedule is never dependable. I yearn for the days when the kids are older and more self sufficient, and yet I would slow down time in a heartbeat to keep my sweet ones as little and precious as they are now.

I have heard several comments over the years, some directly to me and others from conversations I'm not a part of, about how uninvolved I seem to be with the church, or at least that I'm never around. I don't make apologies for this, even though it does sometimes weigh heavily on my mind. We have been blessed with a growing church that has many needs, most of which are behind the scenes. Ask any mom and she will tell you "I know the kids in (preschool...youth...nursery), but don't ask me who anyone else is!). What an awesome and life consuming thing raising children can be!

I don't want you to think this is a "This is what I do with my time, so butt out" type of rant. Not at all. Especially since most of you who are reading are fully empathetic with my situation. This is more of an "I understand what you are going through" type of post. I am huge on not judging anyone whose shoes I haven't walked in. And I'll be the first to admit that there are some people's shoes that I pray never fit me.

The pastor who conducted our premarital counseling gave us a lot of good advice. One piece of advice was that God should always come first, but sometimes God and church are not the same thing. Our personal relationship with God first, then our family, then our other obligations, including church. If being so busy at church enables you to avoid the trials your family is going through, then I don't personally believe that God honors that time you serve as a sacrifice. Just like using your family as an excuse not to keep your commitments in bible study or worship does not honor God. Family and worship should balance and compliment each other. And as Christian parents, we are obligated to show our children that God is a priority in our lives through our service to Him and others. Clear as mud? Probably. But at least it is something to think about!