Great Expectations

By Mary

I've always heard that having expectations can kill a relationship...or at least put a strain on it. And if my experience is any indication, this has less to do with the expectations themselves being wrong or unrealistic, and more to do with harboring a sense of entitlement for my expectations to be fulfilled.

In my head, these expectations are always formed beginning with "I need". Some mornings I wake up thinking "I need a nap today" (ok, maybe that's not a completely realistic expectation with three kids four and under) and I keep that thought in my head all morning till nap time rolls around...and then the baby wakes up hungry just as I'm dozing off. Or my oldest doesn't fall asleep at all that day. And I feel frustrated and resentful and robbed on top of already being sleepy.

On the flip side, I can wake up totally exhausted but just set to work doing what needs to be done and never have I actually dropped down dead before I could at least close my eyes for the few minutes I truly needed.

Because it's not so much expectations that are the issue-it's my reaction, whether they're met or unmet. For there's opportunity for sanctification in either situation-do I receive my wishes fulfilled with gratitude or smug selfishness? Do I meet let-downs in a way that would please my God?

I've tried to let go of calling a day "bad". It might have been less than ideal, multiple times. There might have been difficulties and annoyances, for sure. In the past (and ok, let me admit it, I broke down and did it in my head today) I've tended to write the whole day as bad, just because the kids seemed to be wearing ear plugs when it came to my instructions and acted like they had signs on each other's backs saying "please do everything you can today to annoy me".

I want my expectations to be less and less about me getting whatever it may be from whoever it may be and more and more about me growing and giving and learning and teaching, whatever the day may bring.

To end, I'll leave you with these inspirational words I stumbled across recently--

carried

by Alanna

They are redoing one of the parking lot sections at our prayer meeting clubhouse. So I had to park far away, and I opted for the baby without the car seat as he's far easier to take that way.  Afterward, I carried him in my arms over a grassy hill.  He was oh so sleepy and rested his whole body against mine.  Trusting, small, confident.  The wind blew and it was a little cold; men were talking loudly nearby; he didn't know where we were going and he didn't care.  He was in his mommy's arms.  I remembered another little boy snuggled against me.  I haven't set foot in that country of his birth in over 5 years now.  Sometimes it feels like forever, but then this weight of my other baby boy pulls me back to that place.  Walking the dirt path back up from preschool with his tired body heavy in my arms.  I want to be carried that way.  So often I beg God to know where He's taking me.  If this wind will stop blowing, and if it will then when?  I try to push away from Him so I can tell Him how I want this walk to look.  I'm tired and weary but when will I be weary enough to realize that His burden is light?  I want to be carried by Jesus, to lay my head heavy on His shoulder and believe that He is trustworthy.  Believe it in my heart and not just in my head.

You will be safe in His arms....
The hands that hold the world
are holding Your heart
This is the promise He made
He will be with you always
When everything is falling apart
You will be safe in His arms.    

"Anxious-excited, definitely"

By Mary

That's the phrase that went through my head as I prepared for a more or less spur of the moment trip back home to Colorado (!!!) Anxious-excited, for sure. Earlier in the year we had decided against a vacation back home because of the difficulties of traveling such a long distance with all three kids and the dog/figuring out what to do with the dog if we left her behind/timing with Nick's school and taking leave while preparing to transfer to a new job on the Marine Corps Air Station Beaufort after being at Parris Island for the last two years.

In April Nick started insisting on some kind of vacation before he starts settling in to the new unit and preparing for upcoming inspections of the section he'll be in charge of (and who am I to say no to a vacation?) We bounced a few ideas back and forth and never really settled on anything, and then one day he called from work and said that he'd taken three weeks of leave and that we should drive the 24 hours to Colorado with our whole crazy crew. And that we'd leave in two weeks.

I think a little anxiety came from trying to ensure I was properly prepared to take our family of five+dog 1600 miles across the country to stay for two weeks. I didn't know what to expect with driving two or three days in a row with three kids four and under, but it sounded like a potential recipe for disaster, and I wanted to at least be as ready as possible to have the best time as possible. So I made my packing list and bought snacks and thought about what toys to bring and maxed out my holds at the library on audio books to take with us.

But really my anxiety came mostly from a nervous thought that what if, maybe, this thing that I've wanted for so long doesn't live up to my expectations? In my head it's magic, home is. And I can't count the times especially in these last two years when I've thought if I could just be home, everything would be better, everything would be good.

But three years is a long time to be away. What if my home-state looks bare and brown to my eyes grown used to tree upon tree, green upon green? What if the magic is gone? I wasn't really worried about friendships having lost their spark, because no matter how far away I am, every day I'm reminded that I have the best friends I could ever wish for. But even so there was another phrase that went through my head a lot-"Try as we might, happy as we were, we can't go back." And isn't that always the case? When you try to bring your current reality and put it together with sweet days gone by, isn't it always something of a disappointment?

Nothing could be further from the truth, for me. And yes, we had to make an unexpected trip to the DMV the morning we left South Carolina, and yes my three best friends all got sick just as we were coming into town and I didn't really see them for the first week, and no I'm not a highschooler anymore, and I never stayed up till 4 am just laughing and talking and dreaming, and no, Alanna and I didn't even manage to get one picture together or sit on a roof and just talk...but it was all perfection in it's imperfection.

Nothing could be sweeter than the unity I felt with my husband while spending time with family and friends, so different from the other times we've been there together. Nothing could be sweeter than watching my parents with their grandkids and sharing my children with my friends. Nothing could be sweeter than meeting husbands, wives, sons, daughters and seeing Alanna for the first time with her babies, such a sweet, intentional, godly mother. Nothing could be sweeter than seeing beautiful changes and maturity in ones so dear to me, spending time in their homes, being gathered all together and knowing that our hearts are still all "knit together in love".

My friend may have said it best when she told me it's exciting to her, to think that the moments we're living now are the memories we're going to look back on fondly in the years ahead. And I guess that's the key-I'm not trying to go back to those days together. I want to go forward together.

And so while it's hard being back in Beaufort after days on end of such sweet fellowship, I'm trying to make the most of these moments that will one day be memories. So today I appreciated the shade and held my tongue about the humidity when we took a picnic dinner to eat with Nick on base while he works overnight. And I marveled at the storm clouds gathering over the waterfront while the late sun rays still danced on the water as I drove home. And our baby girl watched contentedly from her car seat on the porch while I played in the rain with the kids after we pulled in the driveway.

And tonight I thank God that no matter where I am, His goodness to me is abundantly overflowing.

7 years

by Alanna

Dear little one,

It comes that time of year again
to wish you happy birthday from halfway across the world.
You are seven today.
Although for you, your birthday is past
and soon you will be waking up to a new morning.

I thought of you all day,
while going through the everyday.
I don't miss you now
the way I did before
because you are so grown up
and I don't know the boy you've become
I only have these memories of you small
in my arms so fragile
and then running to me laughing
after God grew you so.

I do wonder where you are today
what your birthday celebration was like
if you are happy and if you know
how loved you are
by so many.

I pray for you every night
with baby girl
and my other little boy
Praying that God blesses you in every way
that you come to know Him
and the incredible miracles
that He has wrought in your life.

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
I love you. Always.

Lessons from the weeds

By Mary

Apparently weeding is something that ought to be done year-round in South Carolina. We have a green fence all along the bottom from the weeds that sprouted and grew through the "winter" months while I watched with my tummy growing bigger and thought "I should do something about that. Tomorrow." Finally, post pregnancy, I did do something about it. It was easier than I thought it might be because the ground there was so soft, and I got one of those nice little prong tools to get up the roots. But the stain I think is probably there to stay for the long haul.

After I pulled those weeds, I began noticing all the other smaller weeds scattered around and set to work on them, a little every day. And I never really could seem to get ahead of them, even with my daily routine. Then there was a thick patch close to the house of some kind of weed I spent awhile trying to identify. It was so abundant in that particular area and seemed like it was starting to spread. I found out its called dollar weed and tends to grow in overwatered places (which explained its heavy presence right under the eaves where all the rain drips down, because apparently in the Carolinas hurricanes are fairly standard but gutters are not?) It also grows best where the grass is fairly thin, not thriving. These things also grow on one little stem above ground that tend to just break at the stalk, not the root when you pull on them. I hate them.

The weeds became my own little set of parables, how quickly lies can take root in our thoughts, attitudes become habits. How you can't just try to pull them out while leaving the good grass sparse. You need to cultivate the true, the lovely, the noble, or all other efforts are ultimately fruitless. You can't continue to overwater. You can't just try in your own strength, you must soften the soil, use the right tools. 

And in the end, we're all stained from our sin. But God washes white.

To my baby girl

By Mary

You're four months old already, pushing five. I truly don't know how time flies by so quickly.
You're the dearest thing. You watch everything quietly, intently. Sometimes I'll look over and catch you ducking your head with a huge smile on it after catching a glimpse of one of us, seeing the dog walk by, or watching your siblings play. I'm sure it's just because that sweet little curly head still gets heavy sometimes on your wee shoulders, but it honestly looks like you're so happy you could burst and that's the only way to contain it.

You are so tolerant of your big sister and brother clamoring for hugs and kisses and smiles from you, sorely neglecting to give you any kind of personal space, and generally abusing you with the utmost love-you even seem to like it all most of the time.

You're so content and cheerful, you talk with the sweetest coos, laugh the cutest belly laugh, but sometimes you'll just cry with the saddest of sad faces, tears welling up in your eyes (which remain a mysterious and indescribable color for the time being)

Everyone asks how life is with three of you dear little monsters and I always say that it's no harder than two except for the logistics occasionally...when taking you all out of the house somewhere or in those moments where you're all three hungry and making it well known while somebody (or two) needs changed and somebody else spilled something the dog wants to lick but shouldn't and the phone is ringing too. Because other than that, you're just easy as pie.

Sometimes I try to warn myself not to get too comfortable with such a happy little camper-who knows when you'll hit a crazy phase and I'll bemoan these precious months with you (just like I'll one day I'll bemoan the crazy phase too) But no matter what somehow I know you'll always be mi Carina, my little darling. I love you.

blessings

by Alanna

Having two kids just fifteen months apart seems to bring comments from people.  Some positive, some negative, and always questions.  Are you going to wait for the next one?  Are you going to have more at all?  Have you ever heard of natural family planning?  You know there's things you can do right?   I have always believed that I'd just have as many kids as God gives me.  But lately I feel pretty alone in this view, and it makes me wonder if I'm crazy.  Maybe I didn't realize that I'd be able to get pregnant again so fast, even while breastfeeding.  It's one thing to say you trust God and that kids are amazing, and another thing to put that into practice when your body feels so weary caring for a two month old and you are taking a pregnancy test, just to be sure.

Just when I had been wondering if anyone leaves this up to God, I overheard an encouraging comment from an older lady at our prayer group.  She stepped into a conversation about fertility awareness and gently pointed out that it is God who opens the womb. And He is trustworthy.  Yes, He is.  And I really believe it.  Crazy or not, I believe that God creates life.  I know, God gave us wisdom.  I know He gave us the ability to have knowledge about our bodies and what is going on, when we are fertile and when we're not.  But no matter what we may think it is not us who creates life.  We don't decide when to have a baby, and birth control methods can fail.  God is the author of life.  It's what His word says.  He is not only the Creator and the Sustainer and the Giver of strength when I'm weary.  He is also the God who gives good gifts.

Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward.  Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth.  Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them!  He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate."

I've heard the arguments, that this verse was written back when children were an asset, contributing more to the household, etc.  But I believe that it reveals God's heart.  God's heart for children, reflected again when Jesus welcomed them into His arms.  And I believe it too.  That children are a blessing.  That we are blessed to have a household full of them.  That God will give grace for what He gives.  That I don't have to try to be in control.  That I don't have to fear.  Whenever my next baby comes, and however many come after that, I want to welcome them with open arms.  To be a testimony to the world that God is good and He gives good things.  That He opens the womb and that He is trustworthy.  That children are a blessing!