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!

Love to Shop, Hate Shopping

My life seems so full of contradictions some times. For example. I have never considered myself a shopper. Maybe it's because I never have any 'blow money' to go shopping with, and if I do have extra money, I usually end up spending it on someone else, or for the house, just about anything but for myself. Well, maybe to be more specific, I love to shop, I just hate shopping.

What's the difference, you may ask? Well, shopping, for me, has a connotation of leisure time and enjoyment, hours perusing racks of clothes, looking for things that I like but don't really need. When I shop, however, it is with a purpose in mind (and usually a list!). The reason, dear friends, is because I am an impulse buyer. And I learned a long time ago how bad that was for my pocketbook. So I when I go shopping (i.e., going along with someone else to enjoy someone's company), and I see something I like, I ask myself if this item is something that I really need, and 99% of the time, the answer is NOPE! And unless it is an unbelievable good deal on something I have been thinking about buying, or if it is a somewhat good deal offered somewhere I'm not likely to revisit any time soon, I decide to give it the 24 hour test...if after 24 hours I still want it, then I go back and buy it. It doesn't matter if it is a cute pair of skidders at the mall or a new brand of organic chips at the grocery store. If it isn't on my list, I don't get it.

I am trying to apply this to other aspects of my life, too. I am part of a really great women's bible study group at our church on Wednesday nights. We have been talking about how to be a good friend. Normally I try to avoid confrontation like the plague, and one of my spiritual strengths is forgiveness. But I am also apt to let a word or gesture fester inside until I am about ready to burst with frustration/anger. So I have decided to put my shopping rules into play in my relationships. If a friend or even acquaintance says something that bothers me, I will do what I normally do and let it go for a period of time (maybe a few days up to a week). If at the end of that time it still bothers me, I will address the situation, as to not let things build up and fester. I'll let you know how this experiment works, and if any of you sweet friends out there are at the receiving end, just know that it's because I value our friendship and I would hope you would do the same for me!

Fast (and quick!) update

Well, the second week of my Lenten fast is almost over. At times I've wondered at my sanity. But beginning yesterday, I am starting to feel okay with it. I mean, really okay. I had a rough patch a few days ago. I must have been going through caffeine withdrawal or something. I was in a really foul mood (sorry Mike!). The lack of caffeine and sugar has made me really tired, but finally, today, I think my body is adjusting. I actually feel good, physically and mentally. It is 4:45pm and I don't feel like I need a nap! And most amazingly, I wasn't starving during my classes today (I usually don't eat lunch until around 2:30 on the days I have class). So starting tomorrow, I am going to try and reorganize my alone time. At night, I will be studying (which I have dropped the ball on lately), and in the morning I will be waking up early to start my day right with God. So, the fast continues.  How is your Lent progressing?

No Place Like Home

Home. There are so many images that come to mind with that word. Having just come off vacation, the immediate words in my head are, safety, normalcy, rest, and peace (of course, disaster area follows quickly behind thanks to my two little whirlwinds).

I was blessed with a great home life growing up. Sure, there was some teenage angst involved, but just below the surface, I always knew how good I had it. My parents did that for me. We had a very liberal upbringing (which is another story). Not only were we encouraged to be open minded, but always knew that no matter what, we always had place to call home. My grandmother fed whole generations at her kitchen table; not only her immediate family, but all the extended family that lived near by, AND all of their friends who just happened to show up around dinner time. Even if she didn't like you, she would have given her last dollar if you needed it. Those were my role models, and I was very blessed.

"So what's your point?", you may ask. Well, as it happens to everyone, my home changed once I graduated from high school and went to college. I never really considered my little dorm room to be 'home', but after my freshman year, I bought a house that became 'home' to all of my friends from high school who attended the same university. We would even have 'family' dinners every week or two.

Fast forward a few years and one marriage certificate later. Mike and I lived in a tiny little two room apartment while he finished his last year of seminary. Unless you've experience married student housing for yourself, it's hard to describe. We lived on so little, but everyone else was in the same boat. I won't go so far as to say we didn't notice we were broke college students, but living with a dozen other couples in the same situation made everything bearable. And it felt like home.

The subject of 'home' is a touchy one amongst clergy families. The reason is because most of us don't own the home we live in. In case you are new to the workings of the Methodist Church, allow me to enlighten you. As a full time ordained elder, any United Methodist Church is required to provide either housing or a housing allowance to each position they offer (whether it is one pastor, or a senior and associate pastor, etc.). Most churches provide parsonages, although some are now providing allowances. There are certain minimum standards that a parsonage for a full elder is required to have, but otherwise, parsonages differ greatly. Every time a clergy family moves, they experience a mixture of anticipation and trepidation over what their next home will be like. In the 'olden days', the parsonage was FULLY furnished, including everything down to the linens, silverware, and pictures on the wall. These days, with more and more pastors coming to ordination as a second career, married to people who also led their own lives before ministry, mostly its just the furniture that is provided. Depending on which church a pastor is assigned, the parsonage could be considered the private home of the clergy family, or the public property of the church, with parsonage committees having their own keys and making unannounced visits whenever they feel like popping by. In the back of our minds, we are always conscious of living in a house that doesn't belong to us, using furniture that has been used and will be used by others. I'm not saying it is a bad thing (at least for us it hasn't been). But I thank God every day that we have only been in churches with wonderful people who aren't so controlling as to make sure that each painting stays where it has been for the past fifty years (trust me, it happens!).

So for clergy families, and all the other families who move frequently for whatever reason, 'home' must mean more than just a house. As I think about when my parents used to say "you'll always have a home with us", maybe they weren't talking about just a house. Maybe they were talking about something more special. And maybe when God calls us home, it isn't just a place either.

Below is a song very close to my heart about what 'home' really is. I hope you'll watch!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zI3lXSOt3c

Beauty From Ashes

Today marks the first day of my favorite time of year. For most people, Ash Wednesday is rather depressing after the gaiety of Christmas and the Mardi Gras season. But being the closet introvert that I am, I see rest, relaxation, and reflection, as well as hope that dwells in the deepest core of the most heinous act mankind has ever committed. Most people view the season of Lent in a self sacrificing, torturous kind of way. You hear people grumbling about giving up this and that, but what is the point of giving something up just for the sake of doing it? Shouldn't it mean something? In the general scheme of things, the definition of sacrifice varies from person to person. So when we talk about giving up something for Lent, it should be something intensely personal. And no, it isn't necessary to publicize our decision. Ultimately it rests between us and God, anyway. Besides ourselves, God is the only one who knows if we are successful in our sacrifice, and what our hearts are like while we are making this journey.

For myself, in a previous post I had rambled about doing a Daniel Fast. Well, I thought about it and admitted to myself that it most likely wasn't going to happen. Even though fasting is not the same as dieting, I have been on enough diets to know my limitations where food is concerned. What I sacrifice should affect my life, yes, but it also shouldn't affect anyone else's, and if I were to do the Daniel Fast right now, it would definitely affect my family for the worst. I'm not saying I will never do this fast, but under current circumstances a drastic change such as this is not the best thing for my family. So I have decided to go the 'tame' route and fast from meat and refined sugar. This is still quite a sacrifice, especially as I think of how frequently I consume these products! Hopefully God will use my sacrifice to help me focus on satisfying my soul instead of satisfying my craving for a filet mignon. And being inspired by Pastor Robert at the Ash Wednesday service tonight, I will be sacrificing something else...but that is between me and God. Let this be a time of healing, reflection, and letting go in preparation for the darkest AND brightest time of our Christian year. God bless you and keep you.