Tuesday 24 June 2014

Jive

The calculated response to so many needs is worked out in my head.  The tools to deal with triggers and tantrums are at the ready.  The knowledge of what my kids require of me is at the forefront of my mind.  Armed with patience and compassion, I face the day with confidence.

But do they see it?  Would my kids call me patient?  compassionate?  understanding?  gracious?  gentle?  Do they feel these in my touches?  Do they hear them in my words?  Do they see them on my face?  Do they sense them in my presence?

These are the attributes I see in other parents and admire.  The characteristics I strive to exude in everyday parenting.  The ideals I fiercely cling to when their opposites appear in myself or others.

Every so often I meet a parent on either extreme - a stunning example of what I want to be or a glaring example of what I want to avoid.  And either way I am humbled.  I worry that I am not living up to these ideals I have worked out in my head; the ones I know are what my kids need and deserve.  Or that they are just in my head and my actions don't jive with what I'm striving for.  Maybe, despite what I think is right, I don't look that different than that parent that I really don't want to be.  What if they didn't even notice that I approach my kids differently than they do?  If they didn't notice, then how could my kids notice?  If my kids don't notice, then clearly I am not pulling off what I am hoping to pull off.  Everyday.  In every little way.

To adjust my actions so that they jive with my heart, today I will:
- kneel down when I am speaking to them
- not roll my eyes
- honour them in the stories I tell
- use the gentle tone I require of them

Friday 13 June 2014

Mr. Alan

Is it more awesome that Mr Alan sat down in the wagon and let the kids pull him down the sidewalk or that he danced on his front steps while Niko played recorder on ours?

I am so thankful for the amazing little community we moved into here.  A year ago tomorrow this house became ours.  And with it came such neat relationships that, at 364 days in, are starting to really take root.

Thursday 12 June 2014

Getting Back on Track

Today I will talk to you.
I will think of you.
I will remember your goodness and love.
I will sing of you.
I will meditate on who you are.
I will make you apart of my conversations.
I will recognize your gifts.
I will give you attention in my day.
I will be present to you.
Because you deserve it.
Because I was created for it.
Because I want to.
Because I have missed you.
Because I love you, Jesus.

Wednesday 11 June 2014

On Needing You

I need you, Lord, I need you.
Every hour I need you.
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need you

These words are no less true than ever before, regardless of whether I feel that they are or not.  I'm not sure how I came to this place where I think I don't need you.  Or at least I don't think about needing you.  But it's not a place I belong.

Without you I fall apart
You're the one the that guides my heart

Sometimes falling apart looks messy and gross and loud and snotty and tear-stained.  This time falling apart looks oddly together and on top of things.  It looks skinny and happy and organized and outdoorsy and joyful.  What I feel is actually guilty that despite guiding my own heart, I don't appear to be falling apart.  Shouldn't the version of me that hasn't taken decent time to pray or read or focus on Jesus look vastly different than the me that has?  If I am dangerously good at looking Christian, what does that say about my faith?

Where you are, Lord, I am free
Holiness is Christ in me

Where sunshine and bikes dominate, I am free.  Where children giggle and play, I am free.  Where diets and exercise reign, I am free.  Where dishes and laundry are done,  I am free.  Where my friends love me, I am free.

I never saw these idols coming.  I never saw them coming.

Lord, I come, I confess
Bowing here I find my rest

I am deeply sorry, Jesus, for creating a whole life centered on the good things you've given me, instead of on you.  They are very good things, of course, but they are not you and don't deserve to be treated as if they are.  I am sorry that I was leaving you out.  And I'm even more sorry that I have pretended that I wasn't.

When I cannot stand I'll fall on you

Jesus, you're my hope and stay

Please set my feet back on your foundation.  Please remind me over and over that your gifts are good but are not you.  Draw me back into your arms; bring me to the place of dependence.  I want to love you and live in you in such a way that I am aware the instant I take a step without you.  I want to need you and feel that need for you at my very core and with every breath.

Tuesday 10 June 2014

A Little Older

We're a little older now.  Perhaps a little wiser.

Getting-people-to-like-us, hiding-our-irregularities, and trying-to-fit-in are, while not entirely things of the past, lower on the priority list than they have been in the past.  My zit or my belly or my snort-laugh or my judgmental tendencies... well, they aren't my pride and joy or anything.  But I'm not so embarrassed if you know about them as I would have been 15 years ago.  Or even 5 years ago.

Not all of us are reaching this point at the same rate.  Some are still self-conscious about it all, are insecure, and are seeking validation left and right.

But some of us are okay with ourselves.  Or we're getting there.  We've seen the photos celebrating mom-bodies and have internalized some of that truth.  We've watched new ad campaigns and initiatives telling us that we are all beautiful, each and every one.  Some of it is sinking in.  We've seen our flaws and learned that they are kinda here to stay, so we give them a name, try to keep them in check, and address their roots instead of denying their existence.

When I meet another one of us, I smile and relax a little more.  It's refreshing isn't it?  You are you and you are okay with that.  I am me and I am okay with that.  And the conversation can breathe easy.  The air between us is light and refreshing.  Things are face value and we can truly appreciate each other.  Friendships are low maintenance, rifts easily mended.

Being real is so comfortable when you are comfortable with the real you.

Friday 6 June 2014

Life in a 5km Radius

A beautiful sunny morning rollerblade (for me) and bike ride (for Niko) took us past his grandparents' house on the way to the park to meet some friends.  Much to our surprise, Grandpa was working on the deck, cutting boards on the driving.  After a few minutes of chatting, we continued on our way, only to hear Tante Moni pulling up behind us.  We turned around and enjoyed a few more minutes of this family gathering of chance at 9:30am in the sunshine.

This is just one of the many reasons we live where we do.  It's not that I think our area of the city is so much superior to other areas.  It's not that it's where I grew up.  It's not that it's all I really know.  At least, it's not just those things.  It's that this is the only place we can live this kind of simple life.

This is where we can drop in on our parents, siblings, and grandparents with no warning, because they are all within a 7 minute drive and nothing is lost if they aren't home.  This is where we can walk/bike/rollerblade over for dinner and our four-year-old can make it that far too.  This is where my brother-in-law can be jogging home from Dairy Queen with his boys in the stroller and stop to chat on our front lawn.  This is where we can drop a congratulatory package of Skittles on a siblings front step on our way to anywhere.  This is where my sister-in-law and her dog can pop in for a drink on their walk.

And I am stubborn about choosing that a lot of other aspects of our life are in this neighbourhood too.  I'm not trying to stay in my bubble.  I'm simply aware that if I shop at the grocery store at the end of our street, visit the doctor 4 streets over, choose a hairdresser 3 km away, participate in a church that is a 15 min walk away, enroll in a music class in the area, register for a preschool within biking distance...then I can get those places without a car.

If I get there without a car it means a few things:
- I am being active and staying healthier
- I am more a part of my neighbourhood community
- I am modelling an active lifestyle to my kids
All of which are important to me.

So yeah, I live a lot of my life in a 5km radius.  And I love it.  I love that my kids assume we are biking/walking somewhere and are surprised when we are driving.  I love that Niko knows street names and can navigate his way to an amazing amount of locations.  I love that making time to get there on our own power also means a more relaxed pace of life.  I love that we stop to notice rabbits, birds, squirrels, trees, flowers, and dandelions.  I love that we can say hello to neighbours on our way.  I love that the kids are learning to plan for trips with water, snacks, and clothing.  I love that they are learning traffic rules, safety, and responsibility.  I love that they will comment on how quiet the morning is.

Wednesday 4 June 2014

Tickety-Boom

 The sky has fallen and there's nothing I can do
The world moves slower now
or maybe it's just me
Yes, I think it's just me
Normal life is happening all around me
the unaffected world rolls on
I cannot quite compute
I know that I should know what happens next
but it keeps slipping away
like a dream at dawn
And I slug on
so slowly
walking underwater
everything hazy and heavy and out of hand
Simple things aren't getting down
Right there at the tip of my tongue
and yet I know it won't come out.
Being aware that I'm off my game
doesn't make getting back on it any easier
Processing this death has knocked the wind out of me
Tickety-boo has gone tickety-boom

Tuesday 3 June 2014

Delight In

Delight in me, he says with every "Look, Mom!"

And I want to.

I want to fully enjoy his presence without being on edge waiting for his next move.  I want to play with him without feeling like he's always only one misstep away from losing it.  I want to giggle at him and his brothers without leaning forward in anticipation of needing to separate them at any moment.  I want to enjoy a meal without the looming inevitability of a meltdown.  I want to start a morning cheerfully with no sign of the daily struggle to get dressed.  I want to ask him to help out and know that he gladly will.  I want to invite people over and be excited that he will have a chance to play with friends, not exhausted at the prospect of more misbehavior and timeouts.  I want to leave him at a sitter's with confidence that he will be respectful and obedient.

I want to love and like my son.

I want to remember that he is not only made up of all his struggles, meltdowns, tantrums, rudeness, timeouts, wildness, and disobedience.

Those things are abundant right now, but really they just get in the way of who he really is.

He is good and funny and smart and independent and helpful and fast and strong and energetic and curious and thoughtful and sensitive and handsome and lovable and organized and logical and excited and effervescent and loyal and creative hugable and awesome.

And created in the image of God.

And entrusted to me.

I want the good, great, and wonderful to way overshadow the battles.  I want the good, great, and wonderful to shape my attitude as I approach him.  I want the good, great, and wonderful to be the filter for my words.  I want the good, great, and wonderful to motivate my actions and choices.  I want the good, great, and wonderful to be reflected back to him so that he knows.  He needs to know that that is how I see him and that is how God sees him.  And that is who he is.