Don’t Make Me Change!!!

What is it about the human pysche that abhors change? I’m tired today. I faced a lot of change, just running errands. Three bad changes, and one admittedly awesome change.

The first was the massive re-arranging of my local grocery store. Really!? Why, SuperOne, why!? Why are all the organic products placed randomly throughout the store on bump out shelves in every single aisle? What is the rhyme and reason? Why are the chips now in aisle 2 instead of the last aisle? What was wrong with the deli in the back of the store and why in the world is there now a big DITCH in the middle of the produce section!? I can only assume several, oh-so-intelligent men who never grocery shop, EVER, EVER, EVER, decided on this change.

Then I went to Wendy’s for lunch. Wendy’s. Who has the best fries in the whole world. And has had the best fries in the whole world for like, what? 25 years? Now they have, “natural cut fries with sea salt.” WHY!? They’re ok, but they’re not the best fries in the whole world anymore.

And of course, we can’t fail to mention the wonderful, changeable weather here in Duluth. Yesterday I enjoyed a perfect Spring day. 73, balmy, sunny. Today, 35 mph winds, 36 degrees, driving rain. Glad I didn’t let Nathan put my down coat away yet.

I admit, all this frustrating change was getting me down until I went to Target. Have I ever said before that I love Target? Yeah, I do. I loved it when they “changed” and got a grocery section, and today I noticed where an exit used to be there was a new sign behind a piece of plastic. Oh. My. Word. What was that sign, shining like a lighthouse of hope in my future? STARBUCKS!!!! Yes!!! Yes!!! Yes!!!! At last. A good, fabulous, fantastic change in my world! I can shop at Target to my heart’s content AND get a cinnamon dolce latte on my way out!

Change is inevitable in our world and I suppose we might as well get used to it. Those who are flexible, roll with the changes and even learn from them. Those who are stubborn and hard, only get broken by change. I saw a bumper sticker the other day that made me laugh. It said, “Blessed are the flexible, they never get bent out of shape.”

So, I guess I can learn to navigate my new grocery store, and put on my stupid coat and scarf again, AND ok the fries were alright. And I can definitely get behind a Starbucks at Target. And the bigger, less fun changes in my life, well, maybe I can learn from them too.

Grow or get out of the way.

Remembering; Rejoicing

Today is a bittersweet day for my family. Five years ago, my 26 year-old cousin, Beckie, lost her battle with cancer and went home to heaven. For everyone who was privileged to know Beckie, of course it’s always hard because we miss her.  But, we also are able to look back on her life as an incredible gift.

Sometimes when someone dies young it seems like such a tragic waste. The young person has often not done very much yet or has lived selfishly for themselves. My cousin, Beckie, however, was an extraordinary young woman. In her short life she inspired everyone who knew her to live more fully, to know God better, to be unselfish. In short, hers was an unwasted life. Beckie’s life was lived for others, for the glory of God.

Beckie’s life verse was I Thessalonians 5:16-18, “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

Such small words packed with such enormous implications.

Rejoice. ALWAYS.

Pray. WITHOUT CEASING.

Give thanks. IN EVERYTHING.

One small thing I remember that made a huge impact on my life was that Beckie made it her goal to thank each and every person who gave care to her in the hospital; from the nurse who gave her her chemo drugs, to the worker who brought a lunch tray in. At the time I was going through many surgeries myself. Shortly after Beckie’s funeral, I underwent an extensive surgery and hospital stay. I remembered this verse and Beckie’s example and even in my pain and drugged state I thought, “If Beckie could do this while going through chemo, so can I.” I tried to remember to thank the nurse who drew my blood (ick) and the guy who brought me yucky hospital food and especially the ones who gave me pain meds!

Rejoice. Pray. Give thanks.

In the good times and the bad.

When she was in the hospital I made Beckie a quilt. It was called “Tea in the Garden.” I tried to include lots of bright colors and flowers since she was in isolation and couldn’t go outside that spring. After her death, I was privileged to receive that quilt back. Today I sleep under it at night and am reminded of Beckie’s amazing life and her Savior she served who made her life possible.

I am grateful I knew her. Grateful for the summers on Old Hickory Lake in Nashville. Grateful for her example.

The Cure for the Imperfect Parent

Yesterday I messed up big time. I had gotten a new purse and it came with this big gold chain and medallion on it as the “tag.” I took it off, obviously, and Daniel wanted it. He thinks chains and medallions are kinda cool and likes to add them to his little treasure chest.

Yesterday morning he came downstairs, where we were all in the kitchen, wearing it around his neck. I couldn’t help it, I cracked up laughing. I mean, c’mon, the kid looked like P.Diddy, all blinged out! I told him he looked like a rapper. Nathan started laughing too, and so did Nate and Laura. As mom goes, so goes the rest of the family. Big. Mistake. Daniel punched Nate and ran upstairs crying.

I found him curled up in his bed, up against the wall. He wouldn’t come down and wouldn’t talk to me, so I climbed up. Now, understand this child has a loft bed up in the sloped eaves of his room. Perfect place for an 8-year-old with hurt feelings to hide out, not such a great place for a 37-year-old mom to try to wedge herself.

What’s a parent to do when they mess up?

We can pretend like we’re the almighty, always right, do-what-I-say-or-else parent and trample all over our kids’ feelings. But, that doesn’t do much for our relationships with our kids. The other option is humility.

Humility allows our kids to understand that their parents are human and make mistakes too. How wonderful for our kids to know that mom and dad mess up and need to make things right. Then our children can understand that it’s ok to not be perfect. If mom and dad mess up and can humbly ask for forgiveness, our children will learn to do the same.

I believe that humbling ourselves before our kids and admitting our faults does not diminish our authority, but actually does more to build our authority and respect in their eyes than pretending that we are perfect. Admitting wrong opens the doors to communication and love.

So, I climbed up on the bed and wiggled over on my stomach to Daniel. My heart hurt. I had hurt my baby, without meaning to, but I did. I put my arms around him and simply told him, “Hey buddy, I hurt your feelings. I am so, so sorry. I was wrong to laugh at you. Will you forgive Mommy?”

The awesome thing about kids is that they are always quick to forgive and they don’t hold grudges.  Within 5 minutes he was snuggling in my lap again and all was forgiven and made right.

I’m not going to ever be a perfect parent. I wish I was. But, by being humble and admitting when I blow it, I can point Daniel to the One Perfect Father who never fails him. The Perfect Parent I rely on for the strength to teach my own kids every single day. He’s the only cure for this oh so imperfect parent.

Good Looks Aren’t Everything

Today I bought the strangest pair of shoes I’ve ever seen, but a pair I’ve had my eyes on for quite awhile.

These are running shoes, called Vibram Five Fingers. These shoes are part of a new wave of runners who love to run barefoot. Of course, running “barefoot” doesn’t exactly work for a tenderfoot like me, so Vibram came up with these nifty shoes that mimic being barefoot, but protect the bottom of your feet.

There’s a lot of science behind barefoot running, but the basic idea is this: the strongest structure in architecture is an arch. Your foot was wonderfully designed by God with an arch! Why would you support an arch? All of the bones and muscles and tendons in your foot, and legs and back and hips were made to work with that amazing, strong arch. Thus: barefoot.

Christopher MacDougall explains all this in his fascinating and sometimes very humorous book, Born to Run.

I admit, these are not my cutest shoes. I’m sure I’ll get looks when I wear them, but only because they are so weird. However, even I believe good looks aren’t everything. Sometimes comfort takes precedence. And when I run, comfort is everything! I’m a girl who lives for being barefoot. If I could live at the beach in flip flops and my bare feet for the rest of my life, I’d be supremely happy!

But, in the meantime as I run and amble over the trails behind my house, I’ll wear these bizarre five-toed lavender shoes on my feet. Don’t be too surprised next time you see me running down the street. No, I haven’t grown new feet, just a new pair of shoes.

Spring Shoes

There are things that have put a smile on my face this week.

Lunch with a friend.

Longer, sunnier, warmer days.

Runs through the woods.

The sound of melting snow and trickling water in the creek.

Geese moving back in on the river.

And new shoes.

In turquoise blue:

And sunny yellow:

Would it be a fashion faux paus to wear them both at the same time?

Through the Garden Gate - March

Next week will “officially” be Spring. However, in the far Northern reaches of our country, Spring is a misnomer. One of my favorite quotes is by Henry Van Dyke. He says, “The first day of Spring is one thing and the first spring day another.” The first spring day could be in June around here!

March is the season of mud, water, puddles, mud, lakes, rivers, mud, mud, and more mud. Currently, I have to walk through the slushy snow in my yard AROUND an enormous puddle on my sidewalk that is ankle deep. At night it freezes into a small ice skating rink, but by 10 a.m. it’s a very cold, wet trap for unsuspecting mailmen and visitors.

My garden is more of the same; melting snow and mud. Spring heralds the changing of the season and here in Duluth, it’s mostly just very, very messy.

Change is messy.

The past year of my life has been incredibly painful personally for me. I’m still struggling with who I am, who I am supposed to be and where my identity is found. There are circumstances that I have to admit have rocked me to the core and changed me in ways that I sometimes don’t like at all.

I wonder what will come out of all of this change? It’s a mess right now. I feel a little like my yard. Wet, muddy, slushy, messy. I wonder if underneath the mud and mess there is a beautiful flower garden just waiting to burst forth. I think there might be, but I think it’s going to be painful to find it and a bit of a mess first.

So, pardon my mud. Pardon my mess. God’s still working on me.

Perhaps you have someone else in your life who looks a little, or maybe a lot like a mess. Maybe you are a mess. Change is messy. Keep pushing through it. Those irises and crocuses and pansies, the first harbingers of spring, have to work hard to push through the snow and slush and mud. Be gentle with yourself and others.

“There’s a better version of me, that I can’t quite see,

But things are gonna change.

Right now I’m a total mess and right now I’m completely incomplete.

But things are gonna change.”

Kitchen Biology

Normally I love home-schooling. And, in theory, I even like teaching science. Biology is fun when we are learning about the phylums and all the different kinds of animals.

This is my kitchen counter how it normally looks on a school day:

One kid at the computer, a science notebook out, a pencil or two.

Today, however, Laura had to dissect a worm. Ugh. On my counter.

I’m all in favor of science, but in my kitchen? Bleah. Of course, the boys found the whole thing fascinating!

I’m looking for the bleach. . ., and dreading the frog.