Am not in bed. It is very late here. Must add going to bed at a decent time to my list.
Will.
Sweet Dreams.
I mean it.
Expert on the etiquette of perilous times.
Am not in bed. It is very late here. Must add going to bed at a decent time to my list.
Will.
Sweet Dreams.
I mean it.
A went to a training recently where the suggestion was made that the way we live, who we are is an invitation and our task is to decide what we are inviting others to.
Today after MOPS we were gathering to go and a little girl was crying because she didn’t want to say goodbye to Lydia who is a bit of a rock star with the toddler set. I asked the girl’s mother if they could come over for lunch. They could.
They spent five hours with us in our very messy house, for which I did not apologize (OK only a teensy bit) and we had a great time. The little girl played with my kids, her mom and I talked all afternoon and we all loved on their little baby.
I want to be gracious and inviting, but too often I have let the excuses, “The house is a mess”, “I am exhausted” “What will we eat?” get in the way of that. Today the three excuses were there but I did not give them undue power. They could not negate my gracious invitation which was offered without thought, almost reflexively.
I know this, I know this, I know this, but have so often refused the truth.
In my spiritual life I am willing to be vulnerable and transparent. I let others see my dirty laundry. But I hold others back in real life, wanting my physical home to be in perfect order before I let them in. I mean, I’m not going to let you see my actual dirty laundry. But that’s just stupid. I don’t live in squalor, just less than perfect tidiness.
Today I invited my friend over and fed her family lunch, poured her strong coffee and spoke fluent English with her while her little girl played happily and her baby snoozed the day away.
When they left I busted a move and picked up the living room and emptied then reloaded the dishwasher and made a couple chicken pizzas. By the time Paul came home the house, though still not perfect, was in a semblance of order.
I am going to sign off now so that I can get the kitchen sparklingly clean as my gift to tomorrow morning’s me. Won’t I be so grateful.
“Sweet Dreams” as C. Riley likes to say.
I am feeling really punchy. Paul worked late tonight and last night was a mayhem of games and sugar. Our entire house was sticky today. Everyone was tired, cranky and…sticky. I washed Beanie’s hands at least a thousand times.
I brought our mini trampoline (thank you Uncle Tanner) into the living room for the scholars to jump on when they needed to refocus. It became a junk magnet. The room was quite neat this morning and now it looks like a bunch of squatter’s moved in, which I guess we did. The upstairs is closed temporarily while we wait for the furnace guy to return. I won’t bore you with the details as I am saving all of them for another post.
One end of my counter is piled with books. I guess I am feeling really itchy and tired. I am about two minutes away from a certain monthly event and feeling it.
This discussion just transpired in the kitchen,
“Does it look like I am gaining weight?”
“No.”
“Am I just being mental because I am totally pre-menstrual and have consumed about 50 lbs of chocolate in the last few days.”
“Yes. You weighed yourself this morning. You know what it said.”
“Right. I am going to stop now.”
“Good.”
I need to go to bed. But I will leave you with this.
I lead a MOPS group. To quote C. Riley, “Mothers of Preschoolers, meaning MOPS” It is a ministry devoted to the care and support of mothers of really little kids, the sort that don’t speak so well, who soil themselves regularly and scream when a need arises instead of conversing rationally and making a simple request. I am passionate about motherhood and fatherhood too. Tonight I received a call from a woman in our church wondering when our group met and how it worked. I told her how we function and why. As we talked she started to tell me where she is right now as a mom. She is feeling tired and beaten down. I listened and welcomed her to just come and relax tomorrow. When we hung up she was sounding energized. Paul was at the computer when I went to hang up the phone. He said something sweet. I asked what motivated that. “I heard you out there talking to her, encouraging and welcoming her.” He was proud of me. I didn’t know he was listening, I was just doing my thing.
I am at the point where I want feedback. I would rather hear your perspective and be given an opportunity to see something I can’t yet see even if it is painful to acknowledge. If it is there, it is there, whether or not I realize it. Any feedback can be of value but this loving assessment was so sweet.
It has been an exhausting day, but I have loved my kids, been gentle and kind. I have yelled a bit, but I did not abuse and I washed sticky paws and faces the live long day. I took a stand and at the end of the day I was able to be a shelter for someone else and my husband heard me and loved me in it.
I am feeling tired and emotional and just grateful that some days I move and bend and dance in the difficulties and love my children as they are and then am given the opportunity to be a safe place for another young mom.
At the moment I am going to let it be OK that my living room is a mess and the dining room is still torn up from the project ongoing. I will not let that negate anything.
Good night.
I am percolating, really hissing and spitting mentally and spiritually on a few topics.
Expect to read about:
Marriage/Commitment
The Legumes
Being the Conversation
The donut
Gorgeous Paul
Tanner’s Quest
There might be more. I am feeling really tired and chilly – having trouble typing.
If you have a request, I might honor it. 🙂
OK, it just took me several seconds to find the parenthesis key to make that smiley face. My pinkie was just doing a jig over the keyboard waiting for my brain to connect. That’s just sad.
Good night.
The other day I was eagerly listening to something Eden was saying and for a moment I was separate from my love for her. I saw the immensity of it and then had the thought, “And God loves me even more,” and began to cry.
I couldn’t believe it.
Yesterday she was sitting on my lap in a worship service. She has a history of wanting to preach in church but I was hoping she would save her exuberance for the singing. She sat quietly, her little hands folded in her lap and then she exhaled. It was like a sigh and it hurt my heart a little. I felt so tender towards her; even her breath is precious to me.
Later when it was time to sing and dance I held her close and whispered my love, “Oh you are precious to me. You are my treasure. I am so glad you are my girl. I love you.”
She whispered back, “You are presuss to me.”
It would break my heart if she didn’t receive my love, if she couldn’t believe it was true.
…………………..
So I receive your love. This is me sitting on your lap and leaning against you.
This is my quiet exhale.