On Lent and Rearranging

We recently rearranged. 

A few weeks ago, my husband decided it was time for a change.  I'm not a huge fan of change, so it took some convincing.  But we did it.  And after a bit of trial and error (and discovering several dusty things hidden under the couch), we found a look for our living room that felt right.  Felt really right in fact.  Felt like "this is exactly how our living room is supposed to look and I can't believe we haven't had it this way the whole time" right!  The kids even told me for the next few days, "Momma, I really like our new living room," and "My favorite is the red chair in the corner."  And although they say a lot of wise things on their own, I'm pretty sure both these comments they heard from me.  Every now and then I still find myself looking around at the new arrangement and smiling, or commenting to Mike about how much I like it.  

It feels more conducive to conversation - more comfortable being with each other.  It feels more open - more spaciousness with room for the kids to run (and Layla's equipment to take over).  It feels more holy - with the cross and our "family rules" (AKA 1 Corinthians 13) as more of a focal point on our walls now.  It just feels more like what home should be. 

Likely some day in the future we will feel the need to rearrange again.  We usually do.  And though hopefully I will tell the kids how much I like that arrangement as well, for now I'm just enjoying the way that Mike's little nudging, some trial and error, and a bit of hard work has led to my feeling more at home. 

* * * * 

We recently rearranged.  

A few months ago, my husband decided it was time for a change.  I'm not a huge fan of change, so it took some convincing.  But we did it.  And after a bit of baptism by fire (and desperately searching for GOD at work), we found a new job that feels right for Mike.  Feels really right to him in fact.  Feels "this is how a job should feel, happy at the end of the day, I can't believe I waited this long to do this" right!  The kids even brag to friends, family and strangers alike that, "My dad's a social worker," and "he helps other families."  And although they have a vague sense of what that means, considering it's still a bit above their heads I have a feeling they got the idea from him.  Every now and then I still catch a glimpse of him smiling in gratitude, or commenting to me about how much he likes it. 

It feels better for our family - more conducive to intentional presence and relationships.  It feels more freeing - more room to wiggle in our finances and schedule.  It feels more holy - without all the stress and burnout crabbiness as the focal point of so many of our days.  It just feels more like how a family should be.  

Likely some day in the future we may feel the need to rearrange again.  People often do.  And though hopefully the kids will want to brag about whatever new role comes along as well, for now we're just enjoying the way that life's little nudging, some trial and error, and a lot of hard work has led to our feeling more at home.

* * * * 

Today we are rearranging.

It is Ash Wednesday, and in a few hours, our family will celebrate Mass and decide that it's time for a change.  I'm not a huge fan of change, so it always takes some convincing.  But we'll do it.  Because after a long rich history in our faith (and digging into the dusty or dark parts of our being), we have found that there are few things in life that don't need "rearranging" once in a while.  Sometimes really rearranging.  Sometimes "this isn't the way life should feel, and I can't believe I've been doing it this way the whole time" rearranging.  The kids even comment fairly regularly that, "I'm growing up so good and changing, Momma," and "If you need help you can ask Jesus."  And although they've heard those things from me, I'm fairly certain they get them straight from the Holy Spirit.  Every now and then I still catch a glimpse of that Spirit shaking things up, using my kids, my life, my recent re-arrangements to remind me that there is still growing to do, still changes to make and help from Jesus needed that can bring about more smiles and that I just might like better than where I'm at currently in my life and faith journey.  

Perhaps there are changes I need to make that would make my life more conducive to relationships  - those I have and those I have yet to build.  (Forgiveness, presence, phone calls vs. Facebook)  Perhaps there are alterations needed that would make me more open - with more room in my heart for all that lies in need around me.  (More charity, more learning, service vs. being served)  Maybe things I can adjust in order to be more holy - with Christ, prayer, the Church as the focal point of my busy life.  (More Scripture, different prayer, gratitude vs. grumbling)   Maybe what I do, or don't do, for Lent can help me feel more like a disciple should be.  

Likely (no, guaranteed), some day in the future (probably sooner than I'd care to admit), I will have need of rearranging again.  We all do.  That is why we have Lent.  A time to decide a change is in order.  A time to try doing things a little differently.  A time to find what feels right.  Feels really right!  A time to find God hidden under the dust and within the activities of our life.  He was there all along.  It's just time to rearrange, and make Him the focal point.  

So for now, during this brief season of Lent, I am going to try to enjoy the Spirit's little nudging, some trial and error, and a lot of hard work.  And I have a feeling that when all is said and done, I just may feel more at home...with my God!  

Happy Lent to you all - blessings on your journey! 

Drinking Coffee, and Other Things I Didn't do Until You

Dear Layla,

I blame you.  Until you, I never craved mocha-flavored goodness on a regular basis.  Occasionally as a treat, yes.  Maybe a few iced-mochas each summer to take the edge off the summer heat.  Maybe a nice warm white-chocolate mocha with a shot of raspberry at a coffee shop when your Dadda and I only had half an hour for our "date" before picking up your siblings after work, or as a special "I've earned it" treat on a cold winter's day.  But wanting it daily?  "Needing" it daily?  Earning free drinks for ordering enough to fill a punch card?  Buying it by the carton-full to keep in our fridge, and having to force myself to practice self-restraint enough to limit my consuming habit to once a week (which rarely worked)?  No, pregnancy cravings and utter exhaustion never pushed me over to the other side previously.  I never quite needed my "fix" the way I do now.  No. Not before you.

Dear Lilly,

The fault is yours.  Until you, I never took chamomile supplements to calm my nerves.  Sure, I dealt with anxiety from time to time, yes.  Usually when dealing with challenging work tasks and the fear of who or what my professional self was called to face.  Usually when the introvert in me just wasn't sure about another social invite to hang out with a big crowd, or couldn't handle the overstimulating environment of the latest shopping center trip.  But facing a small child?  Facing my own child?  Needing something to bring my heart rate down just from watching a little blonde head bounce back and forth with as much speed and excitement as her mouth?  Looking for peace and calm in tea or pill form?  No, no one led me to Target's pharmacy aisle or sent me to my cupboard for my al natural over-the-counter version of "mommy's little helper" previously.  I never had to pay such close attention to my breathing before.  No.  Not before you. 

Dear Adrian,

You stand accused.  Until you, I never knew tired. Oh I thought I did it's true.  Yes, I kept track of every quarter-hour of lost sleep in high school with all my OCD passion, being sure that any and everyone who suggested early morning activities knew just how behind I was.  True that college and grad school added a level of hard-work fatigue to any late night or early morning activities I chose to take away from my sleep.  But the inability to sleep soundly?  The inability to sleep period?  Having instantly new ears that suddenly hear every toss-and-turn and whine and whimper, or lack-there-of, as if a megaphone were amplifying it right from your room to my ears?  The sheer quantity of un-chosen late night, all night, early morning, nap time, and lack-of-nap time activities that seem to snowball until my "I haven't slept in weeks" turned painfully into "months" and then "years?"  No, a lifetime of school, people, events and even the worst night's worry never kept my ears so alert and my spirit so pooped prior.  I never knew such an un-stopable attentiveness before.  No.  Not before you. 

Dear Mike,

Shame on you.  Until you, I never knew messy.  A little bit here and there, maybe.  The occasional too busy doing homework to sweep and vacuum, or to sweep out the thoughts of my busy brain, perhaps.  The every-now-and-then chaos of papers piled so high or emotions running high enough that they fall over, maybe.  But seeing messy as the norm?  Living messy as the norm?  Laundry baskets as overflowing as my prayer journal is empty?  Dust and crumbs and clutter covering every surface of our home in parallel with the complication and challenge that decorates the decisions and situations covering our days?  No, life never seemed like a good cleansing was more in order and less within reach than it does now.  I never had to work so hard before.  No.  Not before you.

Dear family,

You're to blame.  Until you, I never knew love.  Well, I knew it quite a bit actually.  With an amazing family of origin and extended family that taught me so much how to give of yourself and let go of yourself out of love for those around you.  With spectacular Christ-centered friends who taught me that it's not enough just to have a good time, if that good time isn't accompanied by prayer for and with those you care about.  But true, deep, emptying love?  Intense, powerful, gut-wrenching love?  A love that takes all the mess of relationship and struggle, of life and death, of good days and bad days - takes all that mess, and makes it holy and beautiful?  A love that takes so much time, work and presence that it is beyond tiring, and yet somehow is also the most life-giving and energizing thing you never could have imagined?  A love that is constantly surprising, and pushes you into states of being you never thought you could handle, only to bring you out stronger, and happier, on the other side?  A love so sweet it's as if someone covered your heart with whipped cream and is just taunting you to drink it all in, enjoying every second of the simple joys? 

No.  No combination of four people has ever before had such a powerful impact on me. 

Never before have I missed - truly longed, ached for - those smiles, the laughter, silly games, hugs and hand-holding, even tiny footsteps in the middle of the night; I never quite needed my "fix" the way I do now.  

Never before have I been so aware of the beauty of thump-thump-thumps beating in ultrasounds or in the chests of those with whom I snuggle close, making me ever so thankful for the life within and around me; I never paid such close attention to breathing before.  

Never before have I felt so blessed by little things, hanging on every happening - from funny random things said, to coos, to loving songs from the backseat, to the sound of an inadequate muffler coming up the driveway, to 14 finally making its way back between 13 and 15 - I can't stop rejoicing at what I'm sure seems trivial, if noticed at all, by others; I never knew such an un-stopable attentiveness before.

Never before have I wanted with every ounce of my being to be good at something, to be constantly better at being your wife and mother - hoping, praying, changing, apologizing, trying again, and then doing it all over again day after day to make the space in which we dwell worthy of the space you hold in my heart; I never had to work so hard before. 

No.  Not before all of you.   

It's thanks to you that I know love.  That I know how to love.  That I know myself better.  That I know God better.  You have changed me.  You have completely overturned my life.  You have made everything I thought was good so much better.  It's all your fault.  I blame you entirely.  Thanks a lot.

Seriously, thanks a lot!  

A Mother's Ears

The other night I awoke at Midnight to a strange sound. I heard it right away, though it took me a few minutes to determine what it was.  It was the alarm clock in our basement guest bedroom - a floor and several closed doors away.  Yet despite it's distance from my bed, it's "beep, beep, beep" repetition blared through my miraculous ears.  I lie awake trying to decide if I should ignore it in the hopes that the problem would eventually fix itself and the buzzing would stop after a while, or if I had to save myself from the incessant noise before that happened.  (Guess which one won?)  So at 12:05am, I made the trip to the basement and fumbled through the dark to shut off the buzzer that my children apparently turned on unknowingly during their play time downstairs the evening before. 

A first for me, but in so many ways it is a common occurrence.  The strange sounds - or sometimes lack-of sounds - that wake me from even my deepest sleep on a regular basis.  In fact, the alarm clock was only the first of many wake-up's to follow that night.  But it didn't always used to be like this.  I could sleep through movies, siblings, alarms, meals, 14 hour plane rides and full bladders - you name it, if I was tired enough (or sometimes just lazy enough), I'd sleep right through it.  And then...I became a mom!

* * * * 

Now I can't seem to sleep through anything!  I hear and awake at every activity and need.  And like the alarm, there are times when I wait - sometimes from my bed, and many times from just outside their door - waiting close at hand, yet unseen, while trying to determine if I need to step in and tame the noise, or if they can figure out how to fix the problem themselves.  But even when I don't need to step in, I am still listening. 

Every door opening or closing - Mamma knows. 

Any slight whimper or cough or fall out of bed - there's Mamma. 

Every trip to the bathroom (over and over again) - Mamma sees.

Each cry for Mamma (or Dadda) - Mamma goes running. 

Secret sibling whispers - Mamma laughs too...errr, I mean Mamma hushes the silly crowd. 

A request for a nightlight - Mamma wakes to help. 

Every water cup being sipped - Mamma provides. 

"You will never sleep again," one mother friend told me when I was expecting Adrian.  And so many other moms, and what has become my nightly tradition, tell me that my hearing is warped forever - my ceaseless hearing.  That ability (or curse) to hear any and every thing, to be awake and attentive day and night (even to beeps and buzzes a floor and several doors away).  It seems, try as I may, my ears are always on.  

And as I lay wide awake trying to get back to sleep after my trip through those closed doors and stairway the other night, it occurred to me that perhaps this hearing is something I inherited.  But more than inheriting my maternal ears from my mother and the generations of women before her, I inherited them from the very first of all Mothers - God.

* * * * 

God hears everything.  She is always attentive to our activities and needs.  Perhaps at times our God waits close yet unseen, listening while pondering how long to let our cries for help continue before intervening, or waiting in hope and love for us to find the power within to fix it ourselves.  But no matter what, God doesn't stop listening.  

When the door of opportunity opens in our lives, and when it closes on us - God knows.

With every hurt, ache and ill - God is there.

Whether we journey into the unknown or find ourselves returning to a same stagnant place - God finds us. 

Whatever name we call out to Him by - God comes running.

With every moment of joy in our days - God shares the smile.

During every dark night of the soul - God lays in wait with us.  

All that we take in with every second of every day - God provides it and provides for it.  

"Pray without ceasing," Paul tells us in his first letter to the Thessalonians (5:17).  And as so many other scriptures, along with our tradition, tell us, God hears our prayers - our ceaseless prayers.  Day or night, and each hidden hour in between, there is God - awake and attentive.  God's ears are always on.     

Ask, and it will be given you.  (OK, just one more glass of water - then go to bed!)

Search, and you will find.  (I don't know where Beluga is - let's check under your covers.)

Knock, and the door will be opened for you.  (What are you doing in here? Thank you, but no more coming to give me hugs - stay in your room now!)

A mother hears.  A mother knows.  A mother is there.  Just another way in which this role with littles has helped me understand my Heavenly Parent better.  The miraculous gift of a Mother's ears.