Sometimes I feel like I'm constantly waiting for my life to start. This isn't a new feeling; I'm plagued by it often. A conservative estimate figures that the average person spends more than three years of his or her life (three 365-day years!) waiting for things to begin. So how do you measure how long I have wasted waiting for my LIFE to begin?
But, when I look around, I see that my life has started. And it's a beautiful life--even in all of its ugliness.
* I am loved by an incredible God who sees in me things so beautiful that they make me cry.
* I have an amazing husband who also seems to think I'm better than I am.
* I have the loveliest daughter in the world (sorry, but it's true!) and another on the way . . . both of whom are special treasures entrusted to my husband and me by this God who loves and cherishes our little ones even more than we do. And who watches over them so carefully that even our parenting mistakes will not prevent our girls from changing their world.
* I finally have a job that I love, where I am a writer.
* My family is healthy, even in our dysfunction, and we love each other deeply. Poorly at times, but deeply nevertheless.
There is no reason, as I hold my life in my hands in this moment and gaze at it longingly and lovingly, to not see that it has begun. That even when it is dismal and dictated, it is still too brilliant to exchange for one that might seem easier or more free.
So what do I do? How do I LIVE in this moment? Switchfoot reminds me: "This is your life; are you who you wanna be?" If I could add one more thing to truly become who I want to be--even, dare I say it, who I am--I would call it a writer's life.
That's the life I want to live--a writer's life, fully embracing my dreams and my realities . . . my talents and my imperfections . . . my joys and my sorrows. I want to live this writer's life. And to do that, I need to stop waiting for something. This life is here to embrace. So embrace it I will.
Even when it hurts.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Note to Self
Some days I feel like my entire life is dictated by what I have to do. Do I ever get to have a day where I can do what I want? Nothing more.
Beau said to me yesterday that he wants some say in how we spend our money. Me, too. It's dictated.
Today I'm watching Wild Toddler Boy while I try to squeeze in some work and laundry and cleaning and making dinner. It's the work that gets me. And that's why I have to watch Wild Toddler Boy. Because I need someone to watch Ellie while I'm at work one day a week. It's dictated.
I live in Michigan, when I wish I could greet the morning on the Wild Coast or the Historical Coast, but I have to live here where we have jobs and family and bills to pay. It's dictated.
What would my life be like if it wasn't dictated? Would I be wild? Would I be one who gives voice to dreams, notices little things, and makes otherwise impossible imaginings appear real? Or maybe that's why I want so desperately to be all of that. Because it's not dictated.
Beau said to me yesterday that he wants some say in how we spend our money. Me, too. It's dictated.
Today I'm watching Wild Toddler Boy while I try to squeeze in some work and laundry and cleaning and making dinner. It's the work that gets me. And that's why I have to watch Wild Toddler Boy. Because I need someone to watch Ellie while I'm at work one day a week. It's dictated.
I live in Michigan, when I wish I could greet the morning on the Wild Coast or the Historical Coast, but I have to live here where we have jobs and family and bills to pay. It's dictated.
What would my life be like if it wasn't dictated? Would I be wild? Would I be one who gives voice to dreams, notices little things, and makes otherwise impossible imaginings appear real? Or maybe that's why I want so desperately to be all of that. Because it's not dictated.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Day Two of What Should Be Day Five
Me again. Trying to rise up and meet WMW's challenge . . . it shouldn't really be this hard. I had about five posts in mind last night, and the time to write them, and the capability to not post them all on one day. It was tempting, but I'm trying hard to learn to overcome temptation. So here I am. With a blank page. And that d*@$ cursor again.
I'm watching the news, though it's hard to call it that. They do about two minutes of news once every hour. After that, it's mostly political agendas and stories about sensational activities. I have to check out CNN.com to find any real news. And thank goodness I have that insider in Iraq where I can get REAL news on the war.
The media is frustrating to me. It tells me what to think while only presenting one side of the story. Not only am I told what to think, but I'm also told what to feel about any given story. It's hard to imagine crying that hard over a dolphin, albeit a sad story, when we just ignore what is happening to children the world over. But the media and "celebrity" seem to be on the same page. So am I the one who's missing something?
And how do I keep my daughter from it all?
There's so much to protect her from:
* the monkey who visited her in her dreams on Friday night . . . and bit her!
* the heartbreak of having her cow snatched from her bed, all because he couldn't be washed and was getting gross after two years of love
* the fact that the monkey may come back, even though Mommy picked out this new cow (who could be washed) because the monkey doesn't like him
It's hard being a mom. No wonder God works so hard to try to convince us to stay away from sin . . . he understands the heartache it will cause, and He's desperate to protect us from it all. Any parent would be.
Heaven, honey. Heaven. That's Home. No dolphins will be slaughtered there, but no children will be neglected or violated or betrayed either. Oh, and only the good monkeys make it in. And both cows.
I'm watching the news, though it's hard to call it that. They do about two minutes of news once every hour. After that, it's mostly political agendas and stories about sensational activities. I have to check out CNN.com to find any real news. And thank goodness I have that insider in Iraq where I can get REAL news on the war.
The media is frustrating to me. It tells me what to think while only presenting one side of the story. Not only am I told what to think, but I'm also told what to feel about any given story. It's hard to imagine crying that hard over a dolphin, albeit a sad story, when we just ignore what is happening to children the world over. But the media and "celebrity" seem to be on the same page. So am I the one who's missing something?
And how do I keep my daughter from it all?
There's so much to protect her from:
* the monkey who visited her in her dreams on Friday night . . . and bit her!
* the heartbreak of having her cow snatched from her bed, all because he couldn't be washed and was getting gross after two years of love
* the fact that the monkey may come back, even though Mommy picked out this new cow (who could be washed) because the monkey doesn't like him
It's hard being a mom. No wonder God works so hard to try to convince us to stay away from sin . . . he understands the heartache it will cause, and He's desperate to protect us from it all. Any parent would be.
Heaven, honey. Heaven. That's Home. No dolphins will be slaughtered there, but no children will be neglected or violated or betrayed either. Oh, and only the good monkeys make it in. And both cows.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
The Potty Training Diary
Day One
Assemble necessary items:
* Potty Chair
* Big girl underwear for shameless goalsetting
* Ample supply of pullups, featuring Dora and Sesame Street characters
* Star stickers
* Homemade potty chart (because why pay for one?!)
* Timer to remind us to potty every 30 minutes
Day Two
Scrap timer and just occasionally suggest we "try to potty"
Day Three
Add giant stack of favorite books to bathroom to encourage toddler to sit on toilet for more than ten seconds
Day Four
Realize that false hope is better than no hope at all
Day Five
Move big girl underwear out of dresser . . . acknowledge it will be a while; consider giving up all together
Day Six
Call both sets of grandparents to excitedly declare "I went potty four times!" Clarify that it is toddler we're talking about rather than Mommy and Daddy but admit that we do find ourselves announcing each visit with urgency and wondering why no one cheers us on.
Day Seven
Realize that four-potty-trip days don't qualify as any kind of hope
Day Eight
Agree with toddler that it's a waste of time to sit on potty reading when the cow chair is much more comfy
Day Nine
Wonder how parents have potty trained toddlers for centuries when yours clearly isn't going to catch on
Day Ten
Refigure budget to see if two sets of diapers will fit in; decide to give up eating in order to afford it all
Day Eleven
Sit in total shock and awe when toddler announces, "I have to ucky! Ucky on big girl potty!" and actually proceeds to pee-pee and poo-poo on said toilet. Wonder how Mommy got stuck cleaning out the potty afterwards. Also marvel at smile of pride on toddler's face and wonder how I could have considered giving up.
Assemble necessary items:
* Potty Chair
* Big girl underwear for shameless goalsetting
* Ample supply of pullups, featuring Dora and Sesame Street characters
* Star stickers
* Homemade potty chart (because why pay for one?!)
* Timer to remind us to potty every 30 minutes
Day Two
Scrap timer and just occasionally suggest we "try to potty"
Day Three
Add giant stack of favorite books to bathroom to encourage toddler to sit on toilet for more than ten seconds
Day Four
Realize that false hope is better than no hope at all
Day Five
Move big girl underwear out of dresser . . . acknowledge it will be a while; consider giving up all together
Day Six
Call both sets of grandparents to excitedly declare "I went potty four times!" Clarify that it is toddler we're talking about rather than Mommy and Daddy but admit that we do find ourselves announcing each visit with urgency and wondering why no one cheers us on.
Day Seven
Realize that four-potty-trip days don't qualify as any kind of hope
Day Eight
Agree with toddler that it's a waste of time to sit on potty reading when the cow chair is much more comfy
Day Nine
Wonder how parents have potty trained toddlers for centuries when yours clearly isn't going to catch on
Day Ten
Refigure budget to see if two sets of diapers will fit in; decide to give up eating in order to afford it all
Day Eleven
Sit in total shock and awe when toddler announces, "I have to ucky! Ucky on big girl potty!" and actually proceeds to pee-pee and poo-poo on said toilet. Wonder how Mommy got stuck cleaning out the potty afterwards. Also marvel at smile of pride on toddler's face and wonder how I could have considered giving up.
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