Lessons From Retreating

Thanks to my mother, this past weekend I was able to go to a presbytery women's retreat. I brought F with me since Z needed to plan and catch up on grading. Normally she's really good around people (including strangers) and adjusts well to being in new places. But, this weekend did not follow the "normal" pattern. She wailed anytime someone extended their arms out to hold her. Some ladies only had to look at her before she'd pucker out her bottom lip and then expose her entire mouth with an instant cry, testifying that she does indeed have a diaphragm (sometimes we wonder if she has one :).

At the beginning of the first talk I put F in the care of two very gentle and caring girls, both of whom I have known a long while. However, half way through the talk one of the them came to tell me that F was crying and wouldn't stop. I headed to the nursery thinking that by the time I got there she'd be fine. Boy, was I wrong. I've never heard my child scream so loudly and never for so long. I felt so bad for the girls who were watching her, so I took her outside to calm her down but soon came to the realization that taking her back to the nursery was not an option. I finally got her to calm down when I spotted some kittens. She loved them. Finally, we made it back into the conference room. My sister who was sitting next to me, opened her arms, offering to take F. Oops. At that moment of interrupting the talk, I thought of that quote I once saw on Pinterest, "You're making it very difficult for me to be the parent I always dreamed I would be." :) Well, I missed the rest of talk, I wasn't able to collect my thoughts enough to really focus on and answer the questions during the small group discussion, and while I had a couple good quick catch-up-conversations with some friends, I found myself having to constantly excuse myself or interrupt the conversation altogether. I eventually decided to head back to the room and put F to bed - which took more effort and tears than usual. This was not my idea of a good night - especially at a retreat.

While F was crying I burst out into tears, not out of empathy but of frustration, praying out loud that F would stop crying. Seeking consolation, I called my husband. After a couple minutes it was plain to see that it was useless to try and talk over F's crying, so we said goodnight. Thoughts like, "This is the roughest night I've ever had as a mom," "I don't know how much more I can take," "Why did I even come to this retreat?" or "Why didn't I just leave F at home?" flooded my mind.

Then I began to think about how for some mothers this is a common occurrence. This is their "normal." They must be so mature and be filled to the brim with character. No joke. So, while for some this wouldn't be a moment of desperation, for me it was. I was at my wits' end.

Filled with tears, I started to pray. And while I prayed my mind was drawn toward some of the things that Jared said in the first half of the talk that I heard. He spoke from Luke 5 when Jesus called Peter and Matthew to follow Him, highlighting Jesus' passion for discipleship. Jesus chose those who were despised and opened their eyes to see that Jesus is God. They fell down, confessed their unworthiness, worshiped Him, and abandoned their lives to follow Jesus. Jared noted that Peter, Isaiah, Ezekial, and John, upon seeing God, immediately bowed down because they simply could not stand in the presence of a holy God. But, in each of those cases, God picked them up and gave them His words so they could give it to the nations. Then he said, "Those most transformed by the holiness of Christ are the most fruitful for the kingdom of Christ."

At that moment I realized that I could sit there and sulk about the fact that I wished I hadn't come, that F wouldn't sleep, or that I couldn't talk with friends, meet new people, or play games. Or I could take this moment of utter helplessness to ask God to transform me by the holiness of Christ and make me fruitful for the building up of His kingdom. It struck me how unthankful I had been ever since arriving at the retreat, even when two days earlier I was sad because I thought I wouldn't be able to go. Yet, my mother graciously and thoughtfully offered to pay my way and take me with her. And I had the audacity to complain?! Not to mention that as a new mother, I've had it pretty good. And I began to think more about all the other mothers there at the retreat who had much bigger struggles than I did. God gave me a desire to pray for them. And through praying for them, God blessed me and made me more useful and fruitful - because prayer is powerful in the building up of Christ's church. It amazes me how graciously God will change us even when we don't even realize it sometimes.

Quite honestly, looking back on it now, I'm not sure how all my thoughts connected. But, that evening I became so much more filled with the peace and joy of God that only He can give. And, while the next day wasn't exactly "normal," it was oh-so-much-better because God had put a new song in my heart.

Oh, and Saturday evening when we got home, Z spotted a new tooth on F's upper gum. Double blessings. :)

A Couple Funnies

Sometimes my husband thinks I'm funnier than I think I am. I tell stories or make remarks without thinking about the pun involved. He always picks up on puns.

To give a bit of background, after F was born, the hospital told me about a breastfeeding support group that they offer for women during the baby's first year. I've gone off and on to weigh F on the scales and in hopes of meeting other moms. It wasn't as helpful as I had hoped with making new friends (too awkward, in my own estimation), but it's nice to be able to see how much and how fast F grows. Anyway, the other day I was telling Z about a conversation I had with a woman I met at MOPS (yes, I caved and joined a MOPS group last week, yet another attempt at meeting other moms in the area...hopefully this attempt is a bit more successful :). It went something like this:

Me: "Hi, I'm Flo."
Her: "Oh, I know you."
Me: "Oh, really? I'm sorry I don't seem to recognize you."
Her: "Oh, that's okay. But, you went to that breastfeeding support group, didn't you?"
Me: "Yeah, I went for a little bit. I go off and on to weigh my daughter, but don't go there too much these days."
Her: "Oh, I know what you mean. I was going pretty regularly, but I eventually weaned myself off..."

I don't think she realized her own pun and neither did I. When Z started laughing it took me a minute to comprehend why he was laughing.

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Last week was the first day of school for me. I'm teaching World History this year. :) I have to admit, it's a bit nerve wracking at times, but I think I'll enjoy teaching. I have a great group of kids, a sublime subject, and a solid support group. Couldn't ask for more, right?

Since I'm so young (and younger looking...when strangers guess my age they typically think I'm around 16 :) I decided to try my best and look as old as possible. I woke up early enough to put on make-up (shocker, I know.), do my hair, and slip on a pencil skirt with a blazer jacket. I felt like I had accomplished my goal. That is, until 5 minutes before class started.

With the help of one of my students I had my projector ready to roll and had a couple minutes to spare before class started. I used my free time to chat with a few of the students who had come in the room. After a minute or two a kid, who I had never met before, strolled in, looked around for a few seconds, and then collectively asked the group, "So, do you guys know what our teacher looks like?" One of his friends raised his eyebrows, pointed at me, and said, "That would be her," at the exact same time that I pointed to myself and said, "That would be me." He stood there for a moment as if he didn't know what to say and finally voiced, "Oh. Okay," while shaking his head. Smooth. Very smooth. Despite the fact that he made me realize I had failed in my aim to look older, I think I'm going to like this kid.

"Honey, People Love to Terrorize."

Thankfully, for us as parents, little F doesn't have too many undisturbed nights of sleep. In fact, we've only had one sleepless night (less than 12 hours) since she was about 6 weeks old. However, a couple nights ago, that record was broken. She had a hard time falling asleep, and at 1:30 she woke up crying. When it was clear she couldn't console herself, I went in to check on her. Nothing seemed wrong; although, I thought she might be hungry. I searched the house but couldn't find her bottle (yes, we only have one bottle that we use). Z was the last one to feed her with the bottle; so, although I didn't want to, I roused him. He told me that he left it in F's room right before she went down for bed. I told him I searched and found nothing. He searched and found nothing.

"Honey," I said with worry, "are you going to search the house?" He looked at me inquisitively. I tried again in earnest, "What if someone broke in?"
He laughed, "And took just a bottle?"
I couldn't have been more serious, "Honey, people love to terrorize."

Although, he had high doubts that no one had broken into our house, he searched the house top to bottom. Why I didn't make him carry his knife with him, I have no idea.

I haven't always worried so...not until I became a mother. Now, all those creepy CSI shows, freaky movies, and terrifying news reports haunt me. Every time I hear a creak from F's room I instantly recall an article I read about a 10-month-old who was kidnapped from her room during nap time. Or when I lie awake at night, scenes from a movie I watched in junior high flash through my mind: I re-watch that guy kidnap the kids from their room at night and then stalk the babysitter for years to come. Terrifying.

I've come to realize that I won't be watching many of those types of shows or movies for the rest of my life. Are they interesting? Sure. Are they beneficial for me? Maybe not so much. My fears are real fears. I can't control every thing that happens to my daughter. And, yes, unfortunately there are people out there who kidnap, murder, rape, and hurt people, leaving them scarred for life or dead. Yet, I know and serve God who lovingly cares and protects His people. 

When I was a little girl my parents taught me Psalm 17; and now, we're teaching it to our daughter. Every day we sing, "Keep me Lord as the apple of Your eye; hide me under the shadow of Your wing. Keep me Lord, lest I die; keep me Lord as the apple of Your eye." As God's people we are the apple of His eye; we are exceedingly precious to Him. He wants to protect us by keeping us in the shadow of His wing. So, instead of terrorizing myself, I need to constantly remember the promises of God.

Promises like:

Psalm 4:8
"In peace I will both lie down and sleep;
for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety."

Proverbs 18:10
"The name of the LORD is a strong tower; 
the righteous man runs into it and is safe."

Isaiah 41:10
"Fear not, for I am with you;
be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

Our Life Is A Constant Musical...

  

My husband and I love music. Listening to it and making it (especially harmonizing together) are one of our favorite past times. Music is constantly playing on our computers or radios in our home and cars. At one point I use to think that we sang quite a bit in our home...but now, our life really does seem to be a constant musical, mostly due to this little lady...

Music seems to be her one consolation when life gets tough. When she looses her grip on the coffee table and takes a tumble we sing our boo-boo better. When she thinks she's absolutely starving we sing about cutting up our bread or pouring a bottle of milk. When Mommy or Daddy leaves the room we sing about meeting again sometime soon. Sometimes the songs are made up, other times they're not. 

She also loves music when she's happy, too. I know approximately two songs on the piano (I'm working on building my repertoire :). But, I could play them over and over all day, and I think she'd still sit there at the base of the piano looking up at me with a huge smile while clapping her hands the whole time. Sometimes I let her up on my lap and give her a chance to plunk around; it's an easy way to make her day. :)

This week, however, she learned to play the piano without assistance. Here's a clip of her playing the piano for us one lovely Saturday morning while we were reading and drinking our tea (excuse the sagging pants and the terribly-out-of-tune-piano ;).