Exhale

This post originally appeared on the918.org

To me, motherhood means having a hummingbird feeder. My mom has always had hummingbird feeders and my grandma always did, too. She loved hummingbirds. After I had my first child, I asked Kyle if he would get me a hummingbird feeder for Mother’s Day. It was a right of passage. The 19 hours of labor and delivery didn’t seal it, it was the hummingbird feeder that made me feel like a mom.

This is our first spring and summer in our new house and I had a reminder on my calendar to set out the hummingbird feeder. It’s right outside our kitchen window and I was delighted when hummingbirds started visiting! We were getting several different ones and started naming them. There was the beautiful ruby throated James, plain, petit Judy and a few other regulars. Pretty soon, though, I noticed that fat, short-beaked Franklin had decided to stake claim on the feeder and would dive-bomb anyone who tried to come to one of the four fake flowers that held the sugary sweet “nectar” I so lovingly prepared.

I had heard hummingbirds can be territorial but it still made me mad. It was only when Franklin flew away that the others could come for a drink. He’d perch on top of the feeder, ready to drive away any competition. Didn’t he know that there was more than enough sugar-water to go around? Didn’t he know that I would gladly make more, if the feeder was even close to being empty? Silly Franklin. Franklin got under my skin. He should share the wealth. He shouldn’t be so bossy. This wasn’t his feeder, it was MINE. Slow your roll, Franklin.

Why did Franklin make me so mad? And then it hit me: It made me mad beause I am Franklin. When I have leftover condiments at a fast food restaurant, I take them home with me and store them in my fridge. I like to blame it on being frugal, but it goes deeper than that. I’m afraid if I don’t take care of myself and get all I can, a day will come when I don’t have what I need. Isn’t that the American Way?

Saving comes naturally to me. I do it with fast food condiments, with money, with snacks and with deeper, more meaningful parts of my life. I frequently catch myself holding my breath. As if there might not be enough air for my next inhale. I hold onto what I have, in case it runs out. This is all subconsciously done, of course, but it is a common thread in my life. Worry that applause for someone else might mean there is no room for recognizing the good that I have done. Worry that, despite God showing faithfulness again and again throughout my life, the lifeline might just run out this time.

I ran across a quote by Ann Voskamp in January and it’s been slowly sinking in for the past several months. “Worry is belief gone wrong. Because you don’t believe that God will get it right. But peace- peace is belief that exhales. Because you believe that God’s provision is everywhere- like air.”  God’s provision is everywhere- like air. Oh, to breathe the free air! To not chase the other hummingbirds away, but welcome them to the feast, trusting that there will be more than enough for everyone.

I want to live my life as an exhale. Give my time, my energy, my money, my dearest treasure. Freely. With abandon, knowing it is all a gift from God in the first place. 

Tired

I haven't been this worn out in a very long time. I worked 92 hours a week one summer in San Francisco and lived in an abandoned school building. Hardest summer of my life. That's kind of how I feel right now.

Brody was sick for almost two weeks. He woke up every 2 hours at night, wanting to be held and nursed. So I would hold him and nurse him, because he was sick and miserable and it was the only thing that comforted him. About 5 minutes after Brody got better, Liam got a cold. Runny nose, cough, just doesn't feel good. I got back injections last week, and I'm hopeful they will help heal my back, but right now it just HURTS. When I bend over to pick up Brody, it feels like it might just snap. And, I got two moles removed on Wednesday. They were small and only needed one stitch each, but they hurt. After I put Brody down last night, I just laid on our bedroom floor, crying. Spent.

Sometimes, when things are tough with the kids, going to work is like a vacation. No one pulling on me, crying in my face, I don't have to wipe anyone else's nose or bottom. But lately I've just felt divided. Like I'm only half myself at work, missing my boys so much. And when I get home, I'm so worn out from trying to cram in everything that needs to be done, that I'm exhausted and just want the kids to sit and play quietly... which hasn't happened yet! I end up answering work emails while I'm nursing and replying to texts while pushing the swing. I usually have a rule where I don't do any work while I'm with my kids so I can be present. I like that rule and it works well. But there wasn't any Mother's Day Out this week and I had to juggle my work and kids. That's the beauty of my job, it's so very flexible and I'm so thankful to work somewhere where I can walk down the hall and feed Brody, where I can take my kids to the doctor when they're sick. I have so much to be thankful for every day. But today I'm tired.

I wanted to have an upswing to the end of this post. How God showed me something beautiful and changed my life through this time of being tired. Nope. Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Today I'm just tired.

My heart is heavy with the tragic loss of life from the tornadoes in Moore yesterday. As I think about it and try to go on with my daily tasks, my eyes are filled with tears. In light of such heartache, I am choosing today to find ways to show God's kindness to others.  My prayer is for God to have mercy on those who are mourning the loss of life and property. Days like these make me long for heaven. 

As I was getting ready for work and looking for a necklace this morning, I stumbled across this box:

And inside, is one of my most precious possessions, a tiny starfish. You know that cheesy poem, where a man is walking along the beach and sees another man picking up a starfish out of the multitude of starfish, and throwing it back in the water? And then the man bends down, picks up another, and throws it to safety? The first man asks why he is doing it. There are so many starfish, what difference could he possibly make? "It made a difference to that one," was the second man's reply. That is my life's goal. My purpose. 

I spent two weeks in Mexico every summer during high school. Tijuana, the "armpit of the western hemisphere." One summer, as we were building houses and de-liceing kids in a local dump, I met a woman named Maria. Maria's husband had recently died from AIDS and she was trying to raise her four kids, the youngest, Elisabeth, was probably 6 months old. At the end of my time there, Maria asked me if I would take Elisabeth home with me and adopt her. I was 16 years old. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't take Elisabeth with me. That night, the leaders gave each one of us a tiny starfish and reminded us that we can do something every day to help someone else. I did what I could for Maria and Elisabeth while I was in Mexico and I still think about them and wonder what became of them. But the starfish image stuck with me. 

Sometimes I wonder why God has me in this job right now. And then I think of two little girls whose mommy "took too much medicine" and died. I hug those girls extra tight when I see them and I think of the starfish. God has be here to give mommy hugs when someone doesn't have a mommy who can hug them right now. God has me here to be a lap to sit on, to be someone to give a high five after a stunning performance of "I Dropped My Dolly in the Dirt" during a talent show. I get to be the hands and feet and arms and tears of Jesus. Not all the time. Sometimes I am the Xerox-copy-making hands of Jesus. Or the volunteer-calling voice of Jesus. Or the ordering-VBS-supplies hands of Jesus. It gets mundane. It gets frustrating. But today I remember the starfish. 

Since we are not there yet, I want to bring heaven to earth, even though my impact may be small. Will you join me?

Hurry Sickness

I learned an important lesson last Monday. My mom watches the boys on Mondays and it was my second week back to work and I was running really late. My chest was tight from stressing out about trying to get us all packed up (it takes so much planning and STUFF to get ready for the day!) and out the door. I felt like I couldn't breathe because I hate being late…

I got the kids to my mom’s and was racing out the door to drive to work. Liam was playing with some blocks and said, “Mommy, sit down please. Play blocks.” I hesitated for a second and then said, “Sorry, baby. Mommy has to go to work.” I hugged him and kissed him and left. And sobbed, I mean blubbered, the whole way to work.

What an awful feeling! I was sad the whole day and missed my boys. When I got back to my mom’s I told her how sad I was all day. She told me that there is nothing so important at work that couldn't wait for me to sit down and play blocks with my kid for five minutes. I would have saved myself a day of heartache by just sitting down for a few minutes. And after a few minutes, Liam would have been done with me anyway and ready to do something else.

I love my boys so much and want to do what’s best for them every day. I hate it when I mess up but I’m learning and re-learning that there is no such thing as a perfect parent. I want to learn from my mistakes and be a better parent and one way to do that is to slow down and soak up the precious moments with my kids.

There is a chapter in the book, The Good and Beautiful God, that talks about “hurry sickness.” I have hurry sickness. I don’t want to pass it on to my kids. My prayer is that I will seek the Cure every day instead of losing myself in the midst of hurry.