My To-Do List...

I was in the van going to CVS this evening and it was one of the few times when I was able to listen to the radio, in peace.  My oldest girl was at home with her daddy so I was spared listening to Tangled DVD for the thirty gazillionth time.  The baby was with me, but she doesn't care what I listen to.

I immediately turned it to the local Christian station hoping to hear some praise and worship songs (which my soul in in desperate need of), but instead I got some talk show.  Couldn't tell you what the name was or who it featured.  All I caught was one sentence and then all I could do was replay it in my mind over and over and over.  Funny how you often think you need one thing (worship), but God has a way of knowing you need something else (hardcore truth).  And boy did He give it to me.  I needed to hear that one sentence.

Because it's me to a T.

I expected Toby Mac, but this is what God delivered to my ears...

"I talk to women all the time and it's like somewhere in their twenties or thirties they wake up mad one day and don't know why...they are so used to living in the past they are too scared to move on to what the future holds for them."

Um.  Wow.  Thanks, God.  That was a little...uh...raw.

But geez does He know me.  Like, it's His job and all, to know me that is.  But I'm still amazed when He SHOWS me how well He knows me.  Even when I've been keeping my distance from Him lately.

See, I am mad.  And I could probably tell you why.  Boy oh boy could I...but that's another five year blog project so I won't do that to you.  But it has a lot to do with living in the past.  And most of all, being fearful of the future.

It effects all I do.

It mars everyone I come in contact with.

It's all consuming.

And to put it simply, it really sucks.

So there.  It's out there.  God basically spoke through this radio personality what I have been feeling for a while now and I'm supposed to do something with it.  Like every good blogger I decided to write about it.  I'm being accountable and sharing my shortcomings with an albeit small audience.  I am embracing vunerability.  And like every good Type-A, I made a list, too.

A list to signify where I've been and where I'm going.  A list of what I hope to accomplish in the next three years, most of it because God has placed it on my heart, some of it just because.  All of it because Jesus is an Awesome God.  He is Healer, Redeemer, Daddy and Cheerleader and no matter past, present or future, He loves me and has plans for my life.

So here it is...

My (hopefully before I turn 35, stop living in the past, let Jesus heal and look forward to the future) 

To-Do list:

(in no particular order)

1. Reclaim my relationship with Jesus.  Establish a routine of spending time with Him and in His Word.

2. Memorize all of Proverbs.

3. Compile my writings on faith and share.

4. Become a birth professional, expounding upon my own expeience so as to educate and guide others in theirs.  Obviously this would take some more education myself.

5. Write.  Keep writing.

6. Learn to live with joy.  Smile everyday for no reason.

7. Become the mother I so long to be and pass joy on to my children.

8. Learn to take a decent picture.

9. Learn to knit.

10. Travel to Ireland.

11. Have another child.

12. Be at peace with {my} birth, no matter what that looks like.

13. Learn to love me.

14. Be a better wife.

15. Be a better friend.

16. Be a better believer.

17. Walk a straighter path, like that of Jesus.

18. Learn to play with my girls, and enjoy it.

19. Develop my creativity.

20. Learn to nurture my ______. (marriage, children, self, faith, etc.)

There is probably a ton more I could list, but this is good for starters.

Sorry I've been absent lately.  Have had a lot going on.  Writers block for one, but it seems in most cases once inspiration sparks, it's hard to tame the flame.  Let's hope this is the case.

Thanks for reading.

Kelli

The You through Me that I Call You to Be....

Most days I feel like a speeding frieght train, out of control, charging down the tracks to pending doom.

When my head hits the pillow at night I feel like my train has crashed into a mountainside, or down a rocky ravine. Scores of movies involving locomotives plague me...no brakes, conductor jumps to safety and the bridge is out ahead.

Most days I'm a momma on a mission and my ability to sit and enjoy my children, exhibit calmness, patience, and lovingly instruct, isn't even a thought in my mind.

I rush from thing to thing...from to-do to the next to-do all while trying to manage a nursing babe and an emotional preschooler.

I hear the squelch of my brakes starting to give.

Though my thoughts often turn to Jesus, my heart seldom does in these moments...when I need Him most. And I wonder who I am and what I've become. A wife and a mom, but who else? Where is the Kelli I once knew?

My identity seemingly jumped ship a long time ago.

The fruits of the Spirit are not mine. They are mine for the taking, but I overlook them as I grab for the controls instead. My temper is quick, my tone is harsh and just like coal being burned up by the second...I've allowed the joy, His joy, to be sucked right out of me.

I slam through the "DANGER AHEAD" sign and the broken tracks are right there...

The alternative to this, quite frankly, seems boring. Even annoying in the throws of my day.

A passenger train going from stop to stop. Letting people on, letting people off. Getting a little taste of each town. Boring?  Maybe...but certainly Calm. Sure. Safe.

I've seen these passenger train people before. Gliding through life almost effortlessly. Enjoying each day as if it's a city they've never seen. Not to say they don't have trials...it's just how they handle their trials and everything else in life. I want that and at current I don't have it.  They are quick to give credit where credit is due...they are not in control...rather their Almighty is. They have joy. And peace. And confidence. They know who they are.

In Jesus.

My identity should be... is in Jesus.

And if I would let Him steer me, not only would He guide me to safety, but He would reveal little bits of who I am in Him along the way.

What this looks like...

Simply, time with my God.

Prayerful meditation in the Word.

Listening.

Carrying my cross with thanksgiving.

Relationship.

Living it all out...changed.

Next stop...the me He calls me to be.

Dear Jesus, I am out of control. But I long for Your Spirit to transform me. Here...take it all. And show me who I am. I love you.

Healing...

I took a bath last night.

It was the first bath (in my big tub) since the birth of my daughter over a month ago. 

You might wonder why this is worthy of a blog post, but if you know my birth story (I'll have to share it on here sometime) it took that entire month for me to even be able to look at the tub, much less get in it.

It was there that I did most of my laboring.

It was there, in that tub, that I pushed...only to be told to stop pushing because I wasn't fully dialated like we originally thought.

It was there that I argued with my midwife about her responsibilities.

And it was there that I decided to go to the hospital.

That tub, to me represented for the longest time, the place in which I would birth my baby.  But in the end, it became the place where my plans for a homebirth would take a drastic turn.

In that month I've thought so much about that night and all the details of it. 

I've gone from numb to angry to sad to defensive to numb again.

And now I've come to acceptance.

I planned a homebirth.

It didn't go as planned.

Even once at the hospital I could have stuck to having a natural labor and delivery, but I gave in and requested a c-section.

Didn't have to have one.

I asked for one.

I've had to heal from the whole ordeal, but mostly this desicion alone.

As a self-proclaimed semi-crunchy mom, it hurts a little bit knowing I allowed myself to get to that point.

Once we decide we want things to be a certain way, it's hard to come to terms sometimes with the fact that we might change our minds.  That we are allowed to change our minds.

I was allowed to change my mind.  And I did.

Yet I still felt I failed somehow.  After 32 hours of labor, 24 of which were natural and drug-free...I felt like a failure because I asked for a c-section.

I was so concerned about Jon being disappointed in me.  Of course he was my rock...and my pillar of strength.  He supported me every step of the way.

The only one disappointed was me.

Before last night in that tub, despite seeing God's hand and hearing His prompts in the whole situation, I felt like I needed to defend my actions. 

I am a homebirther...at heart anyway.  So when given the opportunity I think I have to spill into detail about how I had this grand plan.....blardy, blardy, blar...

I don't have to explain myself.  Nor do I have to defend anything.

I have a beautiful, healthy girl.

I'm healthy.

And I'm still a semi-crunchy, co-sleeping, breastfeeding, non-vaxing, all while feeding my eldest Mickie D's nutty mom.

I'm so proud of who I am.  And most of all who I'm responsible for...my precious family.

Last night in that tub I was reading a mommy devotional that was titled, oddly enough, "Mommy's locked in the bathroom."  And at the end of the devotional the Scripture listed was...

~Even youths grow tired and weary, and young stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.

Isaiah: 40:30

I've been tired and weary from the moment I went into labor.  I stumbled throughout the whole experience.  I've fallen more than I care to admit since then.

But all throughout I have had hope in my Lord.  That He would renew me and my strength.  He has done just that.

Physically.

But His guidance and reassurance the entire way has renewed my strength both mentally and spiritually as well.

My plan was not His plan, but His plan has shown me the true meaning of healing.  And healing is exactly what I'm doing.  It's a good feeling.

Because goodness gracious...I love my tub.

Hello...Is it me you're looking for?

I had hoped I hadn't lost you forever.

The way pregnancy tends to go, I was beginning to wonder.

But you're back and I'm oh so glad.

With a few new tweeks of course, but that's ok.

Now you have lumps and bumps, a little more sag and some stretchmarks, too.

Even a battle scar to prove your latest babe did in fact come from your womb.

Your skin is reaking havok and your hair is a wirey mess.

But, let's look on the bright side...

You can fit in your pre-pregnancy jeans again.  And most importantly your wedding ring, too.

Welcome back my non-pregnant self.  I have missed you terribly.

You don't know how nice it is to see you again.

Stick around for a while if you don't mind.

Fed...

Having a newborn has proven to be very time consuming.  Having a newborn and a toddler...consequently all I do is nurse and discipline.  Cuddle and rock to sleep.  Laundry and dishes.  But I think it goes without saying I rarely have time to myself.  To bathe, much less blog.

Sorry for the long absence.  But doesn't it makes a heart grow fonder?  I've missed you.

Motherhood taught me so much the first time around...about myself.  This time I'm learning equally as much...about God's grace.

As I sit with my baby to my breast, I notice how intent I am that she recieve that nourishment.  Despite the pain that goes with it in the first weeks.  I revel at the dedication it takes because breastfeeding isn't fun, particularly in the beginning.  The enjoyment comes, at least for me, later on once we've grown accustomed to one another and babe has figured out their latch. 

It makes me think of those Tribal women on the front of National Geographic with a baby nursing from their lap.  The image I have is one of a malnourished woman often with a toddler latched on.  It looks painful as her breast hangs from the child's mouth.  But how else would that baby thrive?  Where else would it's food come from in a world where food is sparse?

The mother is...Intentional.  Dedicated.  The baby is...Fed.

As moms we look to our futures with our children with happy hearts at all the joys they bring to our lives.  But it isn't until we're in the thick of parenting that we realize how hard it is.  The sacrifice that's required of us so that our children thrive and are healthy and fed. 

Being a mom is a joy.  But it hurts sometimes, too.

No one tells us girls that when we're stuffing bridal magazines and baby names in our keepsake boxes.

Yet, with all the physical pain nursing can bring, and all the emotional and spiritual pain I know I'll feel as my girls grow, I look down at my babe and peace has overcome her.  My milk is calming her very being.  Filling her tummy and making her sleepy.  She clings to my shirt with one hand.  And a smirk crosses her little face.  Contentment to the max.  Happiness like nothing we've ever known.  She's safe...she's fed and she knows it.

This makes me think of my relationship to Jesus.

How painful was it for Him to carry that cross to Calvary.  And then hang there on it, bound and nailed at both His hands and feet?  How painful was it for Him to bare my sin.  And your sin.  Everyone's sin from begining to end, right there in His sinless body?  And finally, how painful was it for the Son to feel that inevitable seperation from the Father as He took on our every indescretion?

Pain is nothing that Jesus hasn't felt right along side of us.

And how intent is He that we live in relationship to Him?  How dedicated is He that we thrive and are whole and healthy?

It is His biggest wish that we find joy and peace...contentment and nourishment in His love and grace.

For me, to sit and nurse for an hour, though tiring, is nothing if it's for my girl.  But to sit in the presence of my Lord for 15 minutes a day so as to be fed myself...well, I just can't find the time.

If I could speak for Jesus, I would guess He yearns to look down on us, clinging to His robe looking peaceful and calm.  Full spirits and full hearts.  Smiling...knowing that we are safe and cared for.

He does for His children just as we do for our own.

I know I'm in the habit of not making Him my habit.  I know I will make any sacrifice for my children, but I have yet to make a sacrifice for my God.  And now, as a mother of two, it's a realization I'm even more aware of.  To be the mom I so long to be, it's time these sacrifices be made.  And allowing Jesus to feed me is the first step.

Joy...

I was looking around facebook today perusing through the recommended friends that I might know and I came across a young man that I went to high school with. I clicked on his profile because though his name was familiar, I didn’t have a clue who he was from the picture posted. Well, he had some other pictures on there of him and his family and before too long, despite the shaggy beard and long hair, I started to recognize him.

I didn’t befriend him. I didn’t know him well in school…he was one of those “know of” people. But something in his pictures struck me.

Joy.

The pictures of him and his wife, him and his children and even shots of just him, radiated joy.

I was reminded how precious life is. How short our time here on this earth with our loved ones really is.

A stranger, for all practical purposes, in a handful of facebook photos, spoke into my life about the sanctity and sacredness of all the things we have been given responsibilty over this side of heaven.

For those of us that are blessed with partners in this life, we have been given divine responsibility in tending to another’s heart. To care for an nurture an adult, probably completely different from ourselves, in all ways physical, emotional and spiritual.

And for those of us that are parents, we are ordained to train up and lovingly guide our children. We’re beyond blessed to nurse wounds, to wipe away tears, to give piggy back rides, protect, cuddle and live as an example for these little hearts.

But so often, somewhere in there, with the demands of life and heartache and disfunctional upbringings, we lose the joy that is meant…that is necessary in these relationships.

Our marriages are our legacy.

Our babies are our gifts.

And it is up to us to not only conduct these bonds with Joy, but to create Joy for those we are bonding with.

I’ve always imagined traveling far and wide with my family, but because I fall into the “oh, we can’t do that until the kids are older” category I limit myself in what I think we’re capable of doing or not doing. This is a tiny example and kids don’t need cross-country excursions to taste joy, but I find that I place these limitations across the board of my life in a lot of what I do. I become stingy. Disgruntled. And before too long, I won’t even consider going to the park after a rain just to let my girl jump in puddles.

It’s the little things. Smiles and laughter. A little dirt and a lot of fun, literally and figuratively.

And it’s been entrusted to me to create joy in a number of shapes and forms through grace and through love.

I confess to letting things get to me and allowing them to rear their ugly heads when interacting with my husband and daughter. The two people who bring the most peace to my existence, the most happiness to my soul, I take out the bulk of my frustrations on. I sometimes lack joy.

So, in turn, I commit to smiling more. And letting the calm of God’s presence settle over my heart. I commit to kissing my husband and holding tightly to him as if today might be my last. And I commit to being a parent first to my children, but being their friends as well...a woman who they cling to now as their mommy, but will one day cling to as the woman who raised them in faith, strived to make life and learning fun, who would die for them and ultimately the woman who taught them to pass on this same joy it’s taking me a lifetime to learn.

Dear Jesus,

I praise you that you have thought it wise to give so graciously to me my husband and children. They are great and precious responsibities, ones I too often take lightly. But my prayer is that You will give me the wisdom and the strength to be the wife and mother you would have me to be. I yern to love like you love. To parent as you parent. And to walk in joy as you have said I can do through the joy of You…though I will face trial, never once allowing the enemy to snare my steps. Lord, I love you and I thank you so much for all the blessings you have bestowed upon me. Help me to know how to best bring forth fruit from Your havest in my life. You are an amazing God.

I love you.

Amen.



Be still...

I was struck by a song I heard on the radio this morning. It really resonated with me and though a Christmas song, I think it can speak volumes into my life right now as well as in the days and months to come.

Amy Grant’s “I Need a Silent Night”.

The chorus says it all….

I need a silent night, a holy night

To hear an angel voice through the chaos and the noise

I need a midnight clear, a little peace right here

To end this crazy day with a silent night

It’s the holidays which in terms of busyness needs no explaination.

I’m expecting our second child, again…needing no further detail.

My girl is growing leaps and bounds before my eyes and craves, right here and right now, “togever” time with her mama. I know this won’t last forever.

With the dawn of a new year, I cast my gaze upon a multitude of changes in my life. None bad, but all very scary. And consuming.

Everything in this world around me is whirling and in my head I hear this song…

I need a silent night, a holy night…to end this crazy day with a silent night.

But in reality, it’s not just a night I need. What I really need and what God is gently yet persistently calling me to is having a “silent life”.

He is urging me to lay it all down…at the foot of the cross and let Him do what he is so very good at doing. He’s telling me over and over, just be still and know that I have it all under control.

But my feeble brain tells me I’m nesting and I have to get this checklist of stuff done before the baby gets here. The season tells me that I have to have THE perfect gift for everyone on my list and some of them need to be handmade. Oy.

My daughter is telling me that she knows her world is about to be rocked when her sister comes into this life and I translate that into having craft time and dance time and movie time…

My Lord and Savior tells me to go out into the world and make disciples in all the nations baptizing in His name.

And I’ve got laundry and dishes and church responsibilities and bills and what about down time?

What about me time? Or time for my husband?

It’s overwhelming. It’s too much.

But it doesn’t have to be.

If I’m being frank…all of it, every last bit…is self imposed.

I don’t need the perfect gift for everyone. In fact, gifts aren’t what it’s about at all is it?

This baby is coming into this world whether the dishes are done or not. Why have checklists and gridcharts to map out what ultimately I can’t control or change anyway?

My girl doesn’t crave activities…she craves me. So what about just…cuddle time?

And what if…just what if going out and making disciples is less about the “doing” and more about “being”? We don’t have to make it difficult, because it’s not.

I recently told a friend that in order to live out our lives for Jesus we had to be willing to DO just as He did. Looking back, now I think I was a bit wrong in that…

Truly we hold the power of the Holy Spirit within us to do just as Jesus did on this earth. But I think we, and I’m really referring to myself, tend to take that to mean we are the ones DOING it. When in reality we aren’t DOING anything. God is doing it, through us. We are but a vessel…He doesn’t need our help… with anything in this life. He is the Almighty God of the Universe, surely He could snap His fingers and all would be done. Why do we constantly nip at his heels hoping to help things along? Hoping to make things better? Striving to organize and strategize, staking our claims, making our marks, making/having the best____(fill in the blank) etc., etc.

He calls us not to do. He calls us to be. Be examples of his love and grace and joy. He calls us to be willing to let Him work through us. He’s calling us to chip away the “just good” for the “truly great.” To be able to lay our everything on the alter of sacrafice and let Him work His will in the refining flames.

He calls us to be still.

We have Thanksgiving under our belts now as the Holiday season surges forward. Oh, and there is so much to be thankful for.

Won’t you take time to bask in that thankfulness. To revel in the beauty that is being in God’s presence. Christmas is upon us and Jesus came to us in a silent night so that we might have eternal rest in Him.

Be.

Still.

In.

It.

Rest. In. It.

Dear Jesus,
Thank you for your love…your mighty, convicting love. Remind me that my reasoning and scheduing and to-do’s and holiday rushes are irrelevant in Your infinite and amazing plan for my life. Assure me that the blessings I have and the accomplishments I aspire to are not of my doing, but of yours. Use me Jesus…in such a way that my life, through the simplicity of being still in Your power and grace, is a testament to those around me. Thank you for Your love for me and this world. Thank you for coming to us in the form of a child. Thank you for Your life. And for Your death on the cross. What more needs to be done…for You have done it all.

I love you.

Amen.