Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns
If you think Jesus would have come into your home that day and not issued a strong rebuke to the head of household, you are mistaken. These words of condemnation have been haunting me for days now. They aren’t all that different than the soundtrack I play in my head on an almost-daily basis. It’s…
I am nesting. On Saturday I emptied the refrigerator. Last summer’s homemade pickles in their jars. The bread ends that seem to multiply on every shelf. The eggs. The milk. The fruit and veggies. All of it sat on the floor or the counter as I carefully removed the shelves and wiped them down with…
I’ve heard that life is like a highway. And it definitely seems like that sometimes. The pace of life swirls around me at dizzying speeds. We’re all so busy. In such a hurry. Always somewhere to be, something else to do. I’m a get-to-the-point, get-there-quick kind of girl. I don’t like to waste time on…
I’m in a bit of a motherhood funk. After literally wrestling our 2-year-old to bed last night, and waking up at 3:30 a.m. for the teething baby, I’d like to chalk it up to being tired, but I’m not so sure. I find myself increasingly irritated, less patient and exhaling frequent heavy sighs. Sometimes, in public. Usually these attitudes I confine to the house, where only passersby or neighbors could hear me lose it with my kids. I almost always cry after it happens, upset with myself for growing so upset.
I can’t even totally pinpoint the problem. I told my husband this morning that part of it boils down to expectations. I have high hopes for the day — for what we can accomplish, for how I’m going to react, for how the kids are going to behave — and 15 minutes or less after we’re all up, those hopes are shot for the rest of day. I could lower my expectations, but that always feels a little bit defeatist, like I’m giving up on any chance of having a good day, but if it happens, then good for us.
It’s also a control issue. I have absolutely no control over my daughter, as evidenced by her repeatedly ignoring my requests to go throw away her juice box in the kitchen garbage. When my husband tells her the same thing, she obeys immediately. Thus, another sigh from me. I realize my attitude has gotten out of hand, though, because this morning, she yelled at me from her room, “Mommy, come here, right now!” When I didn’t respond immediately, she repeated her command. She must have gotten that from somewhere. I’ll confront the guilty party next time I see her in the mirror.
Babies are needy. I know this. I remember our daughter being that way, but I just didn’t think about what it would be like to have two children need you at the same time. And a teething baby is super needy. Thus, another sigh from me, and spiraling thoughts of negativity and hopelessness.
I know, as a Christian, I’m supposed to exhibit joy. But does that mean I have to plaster a smile on my face and keep my problems to myself? How do I show others I have joy when I feel trapped in a state of discontent, disappointment and discouragement. Sometimes I cringe when Christians are told they’re supposed to be joyful always because I think we take that and distort it and do the mask thing. Then we appear to have no problems and no one wants to talk us because they think our lives are perfect. Where the balance lies, I don’t know.
But I think of Naomi, the mother-in-law in the book of Ruth, who loses her husband and sons to death in a land that is not her home; who returns home with a daughter-in-law who wouldn’t leave her; and when greeted by her old friends says, “Call me Mara (meaning bitter), for the Lord has made life bitter for me.” (Ruth 1:20, NLT) That’s certainly not a testimony of God’s faithfulness. The story doesn’t end there, of course, and I know mine isn’t over either. But I appreciate the example of someone dealing with extreme emotion and expressing it to others.
The funk will pass. I feel better having written about it, as usual. Sometimes just airing it makes the weight of it lighter.
I love my kids. And I’m grateful to be able to take care of them. Someday they won’t need me as much, and maybe I’ll look back on these days with longing. Or maybe I’ll be able to live out these words of God:
“Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland.” (Isaiah 43:18-19)
That’s a word for me, now, too. A new thing. I can hardly wait.
Three years ago today, I married the love of my life. I celebrated by taking both children to a WIC appointment by myself, then to the doctor so my 2-year-old could be diagnosed with ringworm, then to two grocery stores, where said 2-year-old threw a fit by throwing groceries out of the cart, all in 90-degree heat. And that was all before noon. Now, both kids are in bed, presumably asleep, and I’m dripping sweat onto the computer as I consider how to spend the rest of the evening. I’m tempted to just go to bed. I could use the sleep. But the house my husband so lovingly cleaned for us before we returned home is a tornadic disaster, and we’ve only been back one full day. Ah, life with children.
Aforementioned 2-year-old is showing a wild, independent streak. Tonight, she put her own supper away. (Miraculously, none of it ended up on the floor.) And she insisted on feeding her brother, not yet 6 months old, by herself. Needless to say, we were all a sticky mess after that was over.
Does anyone think this is what their life will be like when they get married? Toys strewn across the floor. Stepping over said toys on the floor. Stubbing toes on toys you forgot were on the floor. (This happened more than once tonight.) Wolfing down dinner because everyone, including the baby, is hungry at the same time. An hour or more to run errands that by yourself would take 15 minutes. Craving adult companionship while your husband is surrounded by friends, colleagues and brothers and sisters in Christ.
I promise, I’m not depressed. I can’t imagine not having my kids around, even if I sometimes can imagine what life would be like without them. I’m occasionally jealous of married couples who get to take a weekend to celebrate their anniversary. Since we’ve been married, I think our biggest celebration has been dinner and a movie. It’s OK. It’s life. It’s where we’re at. I know someday we’ll be able to do something special, and the time between now and then won’t seem long at all.
Three years isn’t a lot of time to gain wisdom about marriage and relationships, but I gave up the “Happily Ever After” myth a long time ago. People talk about the honeymoon phase. In some ways, I’m not sure we ever had that. But I certainly don’t view weddings the same as I did before I was married. I used to cry because I so badly wanted to be married. Now, I sit in the pew and think, do they have any idea how much work this is? I’m sure I’ll be real popular in any premarital counseling Phil and I do together.
But it’s true: Marriage is hard work. And I don’t think that ever stops. I know some marriages don’t last five years, and I wonder if some of those people were deceived about how much work goes into making a marriage … work. As I told a bride-to-be recently, some of the best pre-wedding wisdom I ever received was that marriage is not a 50-50 partnership; it’s 100-100. We don’t give half of what we are and the other person gives half of what they are. We both give everything we have to each other and to the relationship. I guess for some people that’s too much.
Enough rambling. I think my brain was melted by the heat today. All I really wanted to say was that I love my husband more today than three years ago, and different than I did then, and if we had to get married again, and I knew what I know now, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. God picked the perfect man for me, although he, and I, both are far from perfect.
Maybe happily ever after isn’t so much a myth but a distortion because I’m certainly happy in my marriage, but it’s not a no-problems-everything’s-perfect kind of happy.
It’s a satisfying, real-life, kind of happy. No castles, no fairy godmothers, just two people, madly in love, working out that love day after day.
Lisa Bartelt is a participant in the Bluehost Affiliate Program.
Occasionally, I review books in exchange for a free copy. Opinions are my own and are not guaranteed positive simply due to the receipt of a free copy.