The Thing About Striving...

The thing about striving... is that its often a mistake.

Its been a while since I've sat down to write. Not for lack of material, but for lack of inspiration. For lack of some positive nugget of substantial worth to share. And Im not in the mood to write about trips and circumstance and...fluff.

 I've sort of been living life in a head-above-water state of mind for the past couple of months. I've been heavy-laden in my heart and in my mind. I've been stressed out. Extremely stressed out. I've been sort of trudging along pushing this load of worry and anxiety and responsibility up this giant hill, straining harder and growing wearier by the day before realizing, something's gotta give. Ever feel like you're a hamster in a wheel? Spinning and spinning and trying so hard, and bless your heart, just not getting to any real destination?

I opened my favorite daily devotional two days ago and was hit by the force of the first few sentences. A truth I could cling to like a life saving anchor when drifting afloat on the waves of my own concerns. It read,

2 Timothy 2:24 "The servant of the Lord must not strive."

"Be careful that you are following Me, and I will care for all else. Striving is for those who have not yet learned to trust Me. Anxiety is the affliction of the self-possessed."

So often as believers, we strive where we ought not.  And in the striving, we become obsessed with our own problems. We worry and fret. Will it work out? Will it get easier? Will I get what I want? We pray, even. We ask and ask for what we think we should have. When really, we should trust. We should rest. We should have the faith to know that our times are in His hands. That if His eye is on the sparrow, then surely it watches over me?

I am not talking about walking around in some kind of ooky-spooky spiritual misty fog. Lord knows each day is filled with its own tasks and realities that require action and courage and forward motion. But is all of the striving really necessary? I think maybe its not. Not always anyway.

Maybe if I excersize a little more faith and a little less concern for my own comforts, I'll live a life of a little more substance. And every little bit counts.

"We've Got a Bleeder!"

Its my ears. Are they bleeding? Is there actual blood dripping out of them yet? The problem is that Husband has been gone for three days and so I've suffered the brunt of it alone. All alone. The mind-numbing barrage of words. The sheer relentlessnes of the rapid-fire questions, one after another after another with hardly a pause for breath, seering into my brain like intruding bullets.

The car is the hardest. Its like you're trapped. Yesterday I was in the car with the kids for about 2 hours altogether. 7 minutes of that time was quiet. I am not exaggerating. I've tried turning on music but that doesnt work. My ipod is no match for her. She just talks over it.

"Do I have to take a nap when I get home?" "If I do have to take a nap, can I watch a half of a cartoon first?" "Can you put Jaxon asleep before me?" "Why do I have to take a nap?" "Can I sleep on my princess couch instead of my bed?" "Why not?" "Im hungry, I think I need a snack first" "Can I have a chococlate granola bar?" "Why not?!" "Is it healthy?" "If I dont have a granola bar, what can I have?" "Can I have gum?" "Are coyotes mean?" "Do they bite?" "I think bears and coyotes and lions and sharks and turkeys are all mean and they bite but dogs and cats are nice." (2 seconds to catch breath) "Actually some dogs and cats are not nice?" "We always be careful about dogs and cats that we dont know because they might be mean." "How do you know if they're mean?" "Remember Grannie Annie's cat?" "What was his name?" "I fed him a treat and he was nice." "But Aunt Cyndee's cat was not nice. Rango. No, wait, Ringo."(Incidentally Aunt Cyndee does not have a cat named Ringo or Rango. Im sure someone we know does. Aunt Cyndee has a dog. Named Blue. But that's all besides the point- much like her whole train of thought) "So mommy, how is your day?" "Where are we going?" "I dont think you're going the right way." "Do we need gas?" "Can a car pop if you put too much gas in it?" "What if the guy just kept putting more and more and more gas in and the whole car literry (literally) just popped?" "Has that ever happened to you when you were little mom?" "Was I in your tummy when I was 2?" "Remember when I was a baby and I used to eat baby food?" "Remember that?" (half a second to catch breath) "Do pandas live in China or Africa?" "Do the kids in Africa not even have new toys mommy?" "When you were little did you go to the North Pole?" "Do ocutopus' sting?"
All of that literally takes only about 75 seconds for her to say. I can hardly keep up. While she is just finding her rythm, Im starting to go crosseyed!  I have learned to pick and choose my answers carefully because often one simple answer leads into 79 more questions, about half of which I will have a good answer for.

 *Pause*

...I get it....I am not the first person to ever have a child that talks them into a tailspin. Am I complaining? No, not really. I can appreciate it for what it is and see the cuteness factor in it. I suppose I find it to be equal parts endearing and exasperating. And Im glad I have a daughter with an ever-inquisitive, precocious mind. Really. But SOME DAYS, the dull ache behind my eyes starts even before I've brushed my teeth in the morning. Do I wish she was anything other than who she is? No, of course not. Do I wish I had more patience? More resiliance? More answers? YES! It makes me chuckle, because she's always been this way. She was talking well before she was 1, and talking WELL by the time she was 2. In fact, even in the delivery room and during our whole stay in the hospital there was no peace, no quiet. Spitfire from birth. Ah, I suppose its only fitting. In this very blog (Dont Fight The Funk post) I have said that I, myself, often worry that I've said too much. That Im a blurter.That I will never be one of those peripheral people who quietly take it all in and never let it out. I did say all that, didnt I. Oh dear.

 So it's a fine line I walk every day (and sometimes zigzag back and forth across)- trying to cultivate her little mind, and engage her in coversation, trying to make her feel heard and not disregarded. All the while trying to reign it in and guide it, otherwise, whatever the conversation, she's going to take that bull by the horns and steer it in whatever direction she fancies! Knowing when to really listen and when to shoosh (because lets all be real here, shooshing is fully necessary sometimes)  Its like she's a derailed caboose and we have to keep circling back around and re-attaching her to the train of thought. (pun intended) (And by the way, when is pun ever NOT intended? Whenever people say "no pun intended" there most definitely IS almost always "pun intended")
 We're trying to teach her not to interrupt, or to talk over people. Thats a big one we're working on at the moment. She's figured out that if she just talks louder that she can still get it all out regardless of whomever else might be attempting to get a word in edgewise. Moment of Honesty?: I keep catching myself getting in these climactic conversations with her where she is talking louder, then Im talking louder trying to be heard, then she's a notch higher trying to be heard, and then next thing I know Im practically shrieking "PLEASE TALK QUIETER OR YOU'RE GOING TO WAKE UP THE BABY!"...Right. Oops. I forgot to mention aside from the amount of talking, she has one volume. And its loud.

 Then I  have one of those smacking-your-palm-to-your-forehead moments, and remember that I am the boss. This small little person is 4 and I am 29. And granted, she may be a force to be reckoned with, but I do not need to get sucked into a 20 minute volley of words that leaves me in frenzied state! She's good at it too, because its not usually direct defiance, or even ornoriness in general, but more like a subtle sidestepping of the point (my point). She is quite old enough to grasp the concept of being quiet when need be. Of listening to me when I am talking. Of simply doing what I ask of her without voicing and re-voicing multiple opinions about it. Ah, getting tricky now, isnt it? Balancing the requirement  of obedience and respect (WITH a good attitude! minor yet huge clause), while nurturing and guiding, AND teaching? What is the best way to let them be who they are and yet mold them into what they should be?- (civilized and polite human beings) Because really, isnt that basically our whole job as parents?  I do think a kid is allowed to be a kid- and sometimes that means they are loud, and sometimes they cause a ruckus, and sometimes they have lots of questions. And that's okay!
But My Lanta! What's a lady gotta do to get some peace and quiet?

The Weight of Worry

In my recent post "An Anchor for the soul ", I shared a bit of how I've been struggling with fear. Fear of something terrible. Fear of the unknown. Fear of, I dont even know what! As if I dont have enough legitimate concerns to deal with in a day, I'm now conjuring up newly invented, undefinable concerns as well. Perfect. At least Im thorough.

While I recognize the existance of this inner struggle as of late, I feel that I have not exactly conquered it yet. Or if I have, its been only rarely and briefly. Fear is a beast! A vicious beast with its finger on my pulse, and a chokehold on my neck. (Figuratively, of course.) Its with a smirk, and a tongue-in-cheek attitude that I speak so dramatically in reference to something that actually is a bit dramatic for me. Its how I cope. So bear with me.

It just so happens that Im one week deep into a two week wait to find out if I have skin cancer. On the whole, I know that Im young and there's a good chance that I dont have melanoma. I also know there's a good chance that I do. My mom has had skin cancer more than once, and more recently, my sister was diagnosed with melanoma.  We were not blessed with porcelain skin. Its more like alabaster. The color of blue iced milk. I accepted my inability to be tan long ago, but the smattering of freckles and moles I get instead is hardly a consolation prize. So I've had a bad gut feeling about a couple of moles for over a year now, but have put off going to the dermatologist on the flimsy basis of not having the time, or not wanting to spend the money, but truthfully its been because Im just too chicken. But after my sister was diagnosed with melanoma, my cage was sufficiently rattled. It was time to quit mucking about and just grow a pair (again, figuratively, of course) and go get on a doctor's radar. So I rallied my courage and went.

After spending 30-some-odd minutes sitting alone in a room with my anxious thoughts and working up a nice cold sweat in my paper gown, the doctor didnt have much to say to ease my mind. I heard lots of  "Hmmm"s and "Tsk"s and "I dont like the look of that"s. Ultimately she cut out 3 moles to send to the lab and told me to come back in ten days to get stitches out and hold tight for two weeks until we know the results. Right. Hold tight. This is highly inconvenient to a person who's two chief weaknesses are impatience and worry.
I left the doctors office, started my car, and tried very hard to ignore the panic that I felt rising in my chest. Or at least keep it at bay. My first thought was, "Who can love my kids as fiercely as I do if I die?" I don't want to be a drama queen. I'm not a hypochondriac. Im fairly confident that the rational side of my brain in still in tact. But I do think God has a knack for pinpointing these weaknesses/fears in our hearts and drawing them to the surface every now and then. Like bile, rising up, whether you like it or not. Yet however uncomfortable it feels, and however much it makes me squirm and want to plug my ears like a little kid who actually thinks that works in warding off unpleasant news, I do believe these fears being brought to the surface and dealt with is ultimately for my own greater good.
I keep using the word "fears" in a vague sense. I suppose it boils down to a fundamental fear that something bad will happen to my children. Or that some terrible, unforseen accident will befall my husband and I, and how this will ultimately affect my tiny tenders. The thought alone makes my chest tighten, my vision blur with tears, and gives me a mild urge to dry heave.  Ironically enough though, I've found that the most theraputic way to deal with this fear is to face it head on rather than run screaming for the hills. I've thought a lot this week about what would happen if my biopsy came back positive for cancer. Odds are they'd go back in, cut it all out, stitch me up, and I'd carry on perfectly fine with only another scar to add to my collection. But what if that werent the case? What if I actually died? (hey, I warned you to bear with me!) What if I actually died of skin cancer? What then? Do I still believe that God is good? Do I still believe that He loves me and has a more perfect plan for my life? A plan that trumps my own? Do I believe that He loves my husband and each of my children infinitely more than I even could? Well,yes... I guess I do. I couldnt abandon any of those beliefs even if I wanted to. "I just know in my knower"(as my mom used to say), that He does. So whaddayagonnado? Im still "in it". I dont have a nicely packaged little antecdote to come out the other side of my head trip with. I do know one thing though: Fear is a beast I need not wrestle with. Because if I truly trust in my God, if I have a big enough measure of faith, then I can have a real peace that passes understanding. I heard once that the single most repeated instruction from God in the bible is "Fear not." 2 Timothy 1:7 "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind". God is never the source of my inner turbulence. We are imperfect people living in an imperfect world. His grace and peace are intensified not in spite of, but because of my personal trials. Every verse I've read in the past week has said things like "Take courage", "Be still, be calm" "Dont be afraid" "Find solitude" and "Recognize my hand in this"...

I read about David and Goliath. David slew the lion and the bear, and having thus developed courage, he moved unflinchingly to confront the giant Philistine. It was in this area of courage that he was above his fellows. Quiet faith had its moment of open revelation. Building faith in the lesser challenges will be a delivering angel in the most calamitous moment.
SO. Skin cancer or no skin cancer, I'll be okay.  The weight of worry can rob me of peace and joy just as easily as any hardship I may face. So why bother with it, really?

An Anchor for the Soul

Do you ever get the unsettling feeling that things might be going too well? Like the precarious joy you experience might crumble? Like one resounding crack in your universe could shatter the comfort and ease of your normal everyday life? I do.
And I dont consider myself  to be a negative person. A worrier maybe, but not a Debbie Downer. More so than ever lately though, I catch myself holding my breath, so to speak. Fearful in my heart,  and over what? Im not even sure. I catch myself wondering, will it be a phonecall? A test result read to me in some stale white doctors office? An accident? An illness? What will be the thing that splits my life in two?- Before and After.
Whatever level of this feeling I've experienced in the past,  is only multiplied by about a thousand now that I have two small children. If there is one thing I cannot bear, it is the thought of them suffering. The tears shed that cannot be prevented, the scraped knees, the hurt feelings- these things hurt a mothers heart, yes,  but they dont break it. Its the really tough stuff Im talking about. The pediatric cancer, the parents who die with young children left behind, or even worse, the young children who die- the tragedies that are dreadful beyond what it seems a soul can withstand. These are the things that grip my heart with fear. Its like once you have kids, your heart no longer resides within your chest, but its been ripped out and is now running around in this small little person, forever linked with them, and out of your own control.
This all sounds very gloomy and very dramatic, I know. Which is not usually my style,  but its been a real and genuine struggle for me lately. To not be governed by fear.
Its interesting, actually. I started writing this blog entry a week ago, and left off two paragraphs into it, and went about my busy week, intending to finish it later, after I'd sorted out the rest of my thoughts. This morning through a series of random events, I met a woman and was so impacted by her that I cannot shake the emotions that have lingered after she left. I have teared up at least 17 times today just thinking of her. She had come over to buy the xbox my husband had listed on craigslist. She showed up looking very fragile and very... determined.We started chatting, and she started to tell me her story a bit- how she was buying this xbox for her son- how it was the only thing he wanted for christmas and he was convinced Santa would bring it to him and how this had her worrying as to how she could afford to work that one out. She had been spending all she had on chemo and treatment. She has cancer. Terminal cancer. Her kids are only 11 and 7 years old. This is literally her last christmas with her kids. She shared with me her inital shock, her months spent in chemo and fighting the disease, and how she was done with all treatments now, and time was running out. She said she was thankful for the extra time the chemo had bought her. She smiled and was upbeat about how she couldnt believe the timing and luck (she saw our ad minutes after we posted it, just checking one last time on a whim to see if she could find what she was looking for before she left town this morning, it was the exact one she hoped to find, she was pretty sure this was the last year her son would really believe in Santa, etc etc). I had never met this woman before in my life and my heart was wrenching for her. She stood in my entryway and we talked for quite a while. I cried. She cried. She mentioned  how it seemed meant to be that we'd have this conversation, and that it was funny how God works. Indeed.
This woman had experienced that crack in her universe. The crack that makes all the noise and hubbub of normal life fade to a deafening silence. She told me that she had hope- she had to, she said. I am staggered by the hearts ability to hope. When all the waves and breakers of life have swept over me,  hope is an anchor. Hebrews 6:18 "...lay hold of the hope set before us. this hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast..." Romans 5:3-5" ...We also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perserverance; and perserverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts..."
So that's where it gets real for me. There is hope that fails, and there is hope that 'does not disappoint.' If I hope only for a comfortable, happy, easy, tragedy-free life, I very well may be let down eventually. If I put my hope in God, to be that anchor for my soul when I am overwhelmed then I will not be disappointed. Life does not come free of hardships. Or heartbreaks. Or even tragedies. It just doesnt. But I have a hope that is real.
Coincidentally enough, a few days ago, this was the snippet of my daily reading: "I will never leave you alone in the midst of any affliction. You can not escape the crisis experiences if you desire to grow and mature, but you need never fear them regardless of the form they take, for my grace and my equanimity shall be as a strong anchor that shall hold you fast, and you shall not be driven off course." Hah! Put that in your pipe and smoke it! Inappropriate? LOL. But seriously. So randomly perfect that it is not random at all.
I realize that walking through life like its a mine field, gripped with fear, is not the best way to go about it. Nor is it wise for me to hope only for an 'easy' life. So I'll quit holding my breath, exhale, and do my best to fall somewhere in the middle. Being thankful for today, and letting tomorrow worry about itself.