being

As 2012 turned to 2013, I spent the month of January asking God what he wanted for my 2013. I didn't feel like I needed to make a list of resolutions, I was already maxed out on things like that.

 This pregnancy was difficult for me. It wasn't high risk or difficult in that sense, its just that I spent 22 weeks throwing up and then the last 6 weeks in a wheelchair because my back and hip were "out". It was humbling to roll around church in a wheelchair and I think I learned a lot from that time, but more on that later.

After asking God what he wanted for 2013, I felt like he was saying that he wants me to be a human-being rather than a human-doing. I find my worth in what I do. I have as long as I can remember. And to change to being a human-being would be a big step. One that I long to take. I want to rest. Really rest. And not let my mind go a zillion miles per hour, thinking of all the things I should be doing. Laundry. Emptying the dish washer. Returning work emails. Reading to my kids. Loving my husband better. Blogging. I spend a whole lot of time thinking about what I should be doing. Even when I do try to relax, I jump up and start doing again. I feel like I must do the right things to earn my worth. To my husband, co-workers, kids, parents, friends.

 How do I learn to just be? It's easy for me to see it as being lazy. But what if there really is something to slowing down the pace and breathing in God's grace? Not being tempted by the Siren song of busyness and accomplishment. Of finding my worth in how much I did or did not accomplish that day. It's a difficult balance that I can't seem to maintain for more than a few minutes at a time. I pray that God will hold my hand and walk me through this, minute by minute.

What if I were someone who exudes grace and peace? That's what I want. I'm not saying change my personality, but to change how I respond to life. To change how I breathe and live and react and work. I'm certain that can only come by spending time in God's presence. It is a natural outcome to time spent with the Father. And I see how it's glaringly missing from my life. I miss God. I miss time spent in his presence. I hate to write that. Especially since I am a children's pastor. I just went to Facebook and deleted the post I just made with the link to my blog because I don't want to be that transparent. The times I've encountered God recently have quenched my thirsty soul. I don't get to go to worship on Sunday mornings because I'm working. We lead worship for the kids and I teach every other week, but it takes a lot more out of me than I get back. I leave Sundays feeling utterly drained with not an ounce of anything left to give.

Maternity leave has been great because I've been able to go to Sunday school and worship with Kyle. I feel my soul soaking up the nourishment every minute that I'm there.

I don't know the answer to slowing down and being more than doing. But, really, I guess I do. I want to be in God's presence and learn from him. Jesus says to take his yoke upon me because he is gentle and humble. That is my prayer. To walk in sync with Jesus. To be yoked with him. To stand next to him so that when a snarky comment is about to slip past my lips, he puts his hand on mine as a reminder to bite my tongue. And eventually, maybe the snarky comment won't even cross my mind.

 This post has been rambling and I'm not sure the point. More of a "dear diary" moment than anything else. But these things are ratting around in my head and I so desire to take a step back from my need to do. I want to be. A child of God. A wife. A mom. A children's pastor. All soaked in God's calming, healing presence.

Brody's Birth Story

I have twice as many kids as when I last posted a year ago. Brody Andrew Westfall was born January 24, one day after his due date, just like his big brother. I was scheduled to be induced the morning of the 24th so we dropped Liam at my parents' house after dinner on the 23rd. I'd been having contractions off and on for over a week and was 5cm dilated, so we knew he was coming soon either way. Some contractions had started about 5pm at our house, and were about 10 minutes apart. We got to my parents' and they stopped for about 30 minutes. They started back up on the way back to our house and were about 6 minutes apart for about 2 hours. Finally, Kyle asked what I thought we should do, since I was already dilated, etc. I said we should probably go to the hospital. As I stood up, I had another contraction that lasted 60 seconds and then started having contractions every minute and a half! Kyle was trying to prod me along to the car, but I kept having to stop for another contraction. The drive to the hospital was like you see on TV shows. I was having contractions every 90 seconds and hollering like they do on TV. I hate when they holler. I would roll the windows down and holler out the window (it was 10:30 at night so there weren't many cars) because no one likes to listen to hollering with the windows up! As I was being wheeled to labor and delivery, we passed my friend's mother-in-law. My friend, Megan, was in labor, too! (She beat me by 2 hours and had her baby girl that night). When I got to the delivery room, I was 8cm and the nurse said she didn't think I had time for an epidural. I assured her that we DID have time and that I was most definitely going to have an epidural. I made Kyle attend 21 hours of natural birthing class for Liam and ended up having an epi at 7cm, 13 hours into a 19 hour labor. Best decision of my life. So this time around, it wasn't even a consideration to NOT have one. The nurse was so nice and sped my blood work up and got an anesthesiologist to come. By then I was 9cm but she told him I was 8 so he'd still give me the epidural! After the epidural, I could still feel pain on my right side, but I think it helped me push. It took over 2 hours of pushing to get Liam ("old Big-Head") out so anything less than that was going to feel like a breeze. I was so surprised when Brody came after about 10 minutes of pushing! It's so funny how things can be so different the second time around. Things seem so much easier with your 2nd baby. I'm much more relaxed and feel like taking care of Brody comes so naturally. I'm not saying it's easy all the time though, things are so much harder sometimes with two. Like trying to get one down for a nap when the other is crying. Or playing a toy trumpet. But I love having my two boys. They bring me so much joy and make me laugh every day.

"I'll Take Care of It"

I sat out on the back patio yesterday afternoon, for the few brief moments that the sun came out, soaking up Vitamin D and praying. I have been feeling burdened lately about our family’s finances. We’re doing okay now and I am proud of how we budget our money. But I was worrying a lot about how we’ll do when we have another kid. I do imaginary budget cuts in my head and try to figure out how we’ll make it with another kid or two. There’s a lot of planning that needs to happen. No, we’re not pregnant, but Kyle and I both would like more kids, and, well, I’m a planner.

It’s been very hard to trust God with our finances. I felt very independent, before we got married, and it’s hard to trust God, let alone another person, with how much money we make and what to spend it on. All that to say, I’ve spent too much time worrying.

I get irritated by the “do not worry” verses in Matthew 6 and Luke 12. Worrying is what I do. How will things get done if I’m not there to monitor the process?! Those verses have never made sense to me because I don’t know how to turn the worry switch off. I asked God what I’m supposed to do about that, and, to my surprise, he answered me. I immediately had a memory flash into my mind:

It was the week before our wedding in Wilmore, Kentucky. The planning had gone incredible smoothly, except for the reception catering. We were having the reception at a hotel in Lexington, and the blasted caterer had not returned my calls. We were supposed to have set the menu two weeks prior to the wedding and I had been calling her. Every day. For two weeks. I was beyond frustrated. I was furious. This was the only thing I freaked out about during the whole planning process, so I did it up big. I remember calling my mom as I was driving up Jessamine Station Road from Kyle’s house to our new apartment. It was a Friday night and I vented at how mad I was at the caterer and how she was making my life miserable. I think my mom laughed. She said, “Ok. I’ll take care of it.” And she did. Mom, being the Fixer of All Things Broken, had it taken care of the next day. Menu picked and set in stone. I don’t know who she talked to or how she got a hold of the right people, but I had nothing to worry about because Mom had taken care of it. At the reception the next weekend, we had the most wonderful food I’ve ever had at a reception: crab legs, prime rib, Caesar salad in cute little martini glasses, fruit plates and an endless chocolate fountain. It was all so delicious (And yes, I ate our reception. I highly recommend it!). The best part was, I hadn’t had to give it another thought after Mom took care of it.

And then it hit me. God was telling me, “I’ll take care of it.” He might have even laughed a little, too. I wanted to tell him, “but, wait, let me give you my stipulations first” but I resisted. God is bigger than our Excel sheet budget. The Bible says he owns the cattle on a thousand hills. He has been so faithful in my life. Time and again. Why would he not be faithful now? So, on our back patio yesterday, I handed it over to God. I asked him to take care of my family and our future, the way Mom had taken care of the reception catering. He has a good future planned for us. And I am choosing to trust him with it.

Idiot

Have you ever been the idiot and not realized it until it was too late? I was driving to work in the left lane one day this week and crested a hill with a truck in the right lane in front of me. There had been construction going on for a few weeks, with the right lane closed, so I was waiting for the truck to get over into my lane but he wasn’t starting to merge. I was staring at the guy in the truck and we even made eye contact once, through his side mirror. I was giving him a, “Come, on, idiot, I’m waiting!” look. Finally, I looked up, and to my surprise, the lane closure had switched and the left lane was now closed. I had to quickly switch lanes so I wouldn’t hit the cones. I was the idiot.

I’ve caught myself focusing on the flaws of others a lot lately. I’ve found myself getting frustrated at things that others around me are doing or not doing, and letting things get under my skin. I want to say, “Come on, idiot, I’m waiting” more than I’d like to admit. And I have been convicted to consider the plank in my own eye instead. Lord, let me not be blind to my own shortcomings. Let me not think so highly of myself that I don’t see the room for improvement, refining, and correction in my own life. Help me not to be an idiot.