Category Archives: Random

What My Mom Did Right

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Great title, right?

I’ve been asked to craft a 5-minute speech to deliver at my mom’s church on Mother’s Day. I don’t know yet if I’m doing it, because I don’t know if I have 5-minutes worth of material.

That sounds bad, sorry.

There’s good reason for me to give this speech. There’s probably lots to say, but at this moment, before I’ve struck a structure, I do not have the differentiation to know how much of this is from her, how much is from the them (both my parents) and how much I’ve extrapolated and combined from all the observing and reading I’ve done in the last 15 years.

I’m so literal-minded those distinctions actually matter to me.

And, also, how can I talk about what my mom did right without, basically, elevating myself?

I’m only a good bearmaker if my bears turn out well, right?
How else should I express my mom did well, than that I turned out okay?

I feel like it would be easier to talk about what a good job, say, my Mother-in-Law did, removing me one degree from the discussion.

This also reduces by some percentage the chance I will become a blubbering mess in front of a congregation that’s only seen me once before (I’ve noticed crying is my stress-response).

I should e-mail my old ToastMasters club and find out if someone there can help me with the project.

In theory I like it a great deal. In practice… We’ll see.

Yuck!

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I spilled some 409 refilling a bottle and mopped the spill with a towel under my stocking foot.

Five minutes later I could swear I had the taste in my mouth.

I get the how and all, but it’s still kinda creepy.

Not Just Staying Home (Part 2 of 2)

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Sometimes I think that if I didn’t have other things (reading, writing, storytelling, music, teaching) in addition to keeping my home I probably wouldn’t enjoy “staying home,” but it’s only partially true.

My best analogy just now is to electricity. I’ve proven I can live contentedly without it, with the right attitude, but life is (forgive me) so much easier to enjoy with than without, I see no compelling reason to stretch myself that way.

Thankfully, God hasn’t asked me to do without these things I enjoy, and He’s shown me their place in my life just now: mixed with my children or spread thinly around the edges.

He’s also given me a “vision” (as it were) of their possibilities in the years to come.

This is where reminders such as that late chapter in Home by Choice are encouraging to me; they show my now-locked (think: land-locked) mind the possibilities once I reach the “coast” of empty-nesting.

I can touch and look at water in lakes, pools and streams now, but my current job doesn’t allow me to live by the ocean. I remind myself to be content in the wait because I know this job will eventually be over, whether I want it to be or not.

Hearing stories about women who fulfilled their second callings second helps me remain patient and content. I am such a *now* person I need the now stories of others to assure me I can wait for the train to arrive.

~

This doesn’t mean I am just hanging on until my kids are grown. It means that I have the same double vision in my home life as I have in my spiritual life.

All of we who are waiting for an eternal and infinitely better kingdom are only doing a good job if we are also doing everything in our power to equip ourselves and our children to live well in this one.

As a mother I am aware both of my present time with my children, and that it is not an end in itself.

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Not Just Staying Home (Part 1 of 2)

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A recent conversation— sparked by my recommendation of this book— has made me think about a paradox I feel in my life. (I wonder how many women share this feeling/awareness…):

I am a huge cheerleader for moms staying at home to care for their families (and I unreservedly think it’s God’s “best plan,” along with two-parent families and living debt-free), but I don’t think it’s the be-all, end-all of my life.

And I don’t think this contradicts scripture.

For one thing, my life doesn’t end when they leave, and that, combined with the fact that God continually grows us, leads me to the conclusion he’s got plans for me beyond my time home with them.

I think they are the most important assignment I will ever have, but they are just one part of my life, not the whole thing.

This is what makes me think my desire to write is more than a distraction. I believe it is a part of me, useful in my parenting journey, that will not be fully explored until my first assignment is fulfilled.

But this awareness of– what can I call it?– a life beyond (within?) my role as a home-keeper, left me feeling hobbled in an uncomfortable conversation I recently got caught in.

I was subjected to… not outright derision at me and my career choice, but snarky jabs at women who do what it looks like I do.

For the first time in my life I think I understand what wounded feminists are trying to label “The Patriarchy,” and the bruises inflicted by subtle racism.

I am fairly sure this was not meant to be mean in a conscious way. It was a mouth speaking out of the overflow of his heart.

Apparently I have lived an *amazingly* sheltered 28+ years.

Among other things, I heard that overused refrain about women who are lost once their children are gone and *need* someone to nurture but there’s no one left.

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So Helpful.

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No less than 1/3 of our small congregation have names beginning with the letter J.

  • We determined this by a very unscientific application of the old round Father I Adore You, assigning all those with J-names to follow my husband (Jay.) on the third part of the song. We had three pretty even sections.
  • This doesn’t include the three people (I know of) whose middle names begin with J.
  • Or the family whose five kids’ names all begin with J (their attendance is sporadic).
  • There is only one person on the Church board whose name doesn’t begin with J (Nate).

So when I’m telling a story from church I occasionally get a little gummed up.

Earlier today with my folks:

Me: So then Ja– Jer– Je– Ga! Help me out here! J-names!
Dad: Jehoshaphat! Jehoiakim!
Mom: Jedidiah!
Me: Thank you! Judy!

Nobody who’s met my parents has any questions left about me. ;)

Why I am the way I am.

I love it.

Favorite posts from Year 2 (Part 2)

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Concluding yesterday’s look at the variety I’ve covered in the last year.

Why I Do What I Do: the best summary I’ve created so far.

July 2007 to February 2008

Favorite posts from Year 2 (Part 1)

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Ah me. It’s that time of year again.

The end of another year of blogging and my chance to introduce myself and my writing to a boatload of lovely new readers (Hi, how are you? Are you coming to the party?).

For you new folks: I write prolifically, but on very little of anything that could be called a schedule.

Probably the best way to keep track of posting is through some kind of feed-reader, but I adore comments, so please click through and share your mind.

~

This was the best way I’ve yet come up with to show the insane lack of focus in my lovely essays. :P I hope some titles intrigue you enough to check them out and the content interests you in coming back.

February 2007 to June 2007

So… What does it say about me?

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I have two empty 1-gallon tubs of ice cream in the dirty-dishes bin under my sink.

It’s been so long between a complete dishes-washing (i.e., more than a single pot or pan for a night’s dinner) that my family has gone through two gallons of ice cream.

Yes, the sickness streak broke my good-housekeeping streak and I’m trying to get back on-top of things.

So think what you want. That we eat a lot of ice cream (we do) or we let dishes go a long time (we do).

I just thought it was a funny random fact. Take it how you will. ;)

Can We Show Them More Evil, Please?

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This is going to be a odd ramble since I recently wrote that “Sheltering” post, but perhaps it acknowledges some of the issues of Sheltering’s opponents.

I’m hoping someone will converse with me over the latest story I posted. I picked “The Snake’s Savior” to start this conversation because of the reaction of some boys when I told it once. There were several variations on,

“I would have saved him until he was almost warm, then tossed him away from me reallyquick!”

And I began to wonder if we (our culture’s) storytellers, in our admirable efforts to teach our children to be accepting of many different peoples, we are somehow teaching them to be “as innocent as doves” and leaving out the “wise as serpents” part.

So this enlightened generation automatically assumes the best of anyone who acts sincere, but what happens when these poor, molded children (heaven forbid!) meet real evil?

Call me cold and unfeeling, but I believe there are times when people simply are evil.

I am one who believes there are enough people that overcome (say) rejection and isolation without (say) shooting up a classroom, that those who act that way shouldn’t be excused or their evil be explained away because of the way they were treated.

Those who pretend it’s possible (or even necessary) are reversing the already faulty “the end justifies the means” to say “the means justify the end.”

It doesn’t become more right when turned on it’s head.

~

My quote on the side bar (about dragons and witches— and yes, it was inspired by a similar but different quote of Chesterton’s) is what made me first think about this problem.

I’ve come across very few stories about scary dragons or evil witches.

The majority of stories I see describe how misunderstood are peaceful dinosaurs and old women.

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