Time after Time

Irony is one of my favorite literary (and life) devices. Thus, I am quite amused with myself at the moment. You see, in the last two weeks I have felt compelled to write about time. Or the seeming lack thereof.


It has taken me two whole weeks to sit down and put my thoughts together. (chuckle, chuckle, snort. Yes, I snort when I laugh. No, I do not do it on purpose.)

Time.

Pace of life.


If you are anything like me and many (if not most) of my family and friends, when asked to describe your pace of life your answer would be:

Busy.
Crazy.
Hectic.
Full.

Most of us run around like proverbial chickens, heads gone flying, minds clouded and overwhelmed by all we feel we must accomplish in a day, a week, a lifetime.


Once we add precious children to our lot, it seems that the seconds inevitably just tick away at a steadier (and I swear faster) pace. We wish them along from milestone, to milestone. I can hear my own words echo back at me from my own experience....


"Rachel is rolling over; I can't wait until she sits up!"

“She crawled...she will be walking soon!"


"Once she can talk and play things will get really fun!"


And on and on I went, just wishing away each season, like the man in summer who begged for fall, only to find winter's chill incredibly alluring once the leaves actually began to change.


Of course some of my wishing was simply excitement at my daughter’s growth and development. Our children change so much at such an alarming rate in their early years, that I have found myself repeating what my own parents would say to me when I was young, "Just wait, the years only pass faster once you have children of your own," to friends with children a few years younger than ours or not yet blessed with the pitter-patter of little feet and dirty hand prints on white walls.


This year has been a little different. Well, more recently, it has been A LOT different.

This year, I have spent 6 weeks of the 52 allotted for 2009 on bed rest. The first couple of weeks I barely managed to stave off a deep depression. Staring at the ceiling, spending far too many hours alone with my thoughts is not my idea of a joy ride.


Three weeks in to my forced time of rest, something in me began to shift. As I sat, alone with my thoughts, often reading back over journal entries I had in previous months I was given a revelation.


I had asked for this.


I had prayed that God would show me how to live my life out of a place of rest, stillness, peace.


The evidence proving fault was right there in my journal in black and white. Penned by my own hand. I had asked, and God answered my request with a resounding , "Yes and Amen"


Anyone who knows me, would tell you I am a "Doer." I like to be active. Social. Though I do require moments of Solitude to maintain my sanity, I find much joy in activity. Though with age I have gained some maturity and grown in my ability to sit still, it is not my primary nature to be at rest. Thank God I am no longer alive to my primary nature!


I am alive in Christ, and being transformed into His likeness, so really, as I ponder it now it makes absolute sense that He so gladly gave me six weeks of forced medical rest. I needed that forced physical rest for a season so He could plant the seeds of His rest in my soul. God only knows there is likely no other way I would have sat still long enough for fertilization, let alone germination!!


So He has sewn the seeds of rest.


And now I must choose to water them. I must choose to grow in this. Not just talk about how badly I want to slow down, or live at a slower pace, but actually live this out.


I must choose to not over-schedule myself, my family, my mind.


I must choose to pursue Peace. To hold on to it. To live life out of a cultivated stillness rather than an anxious busyness. I must ask the Lord to still me, each day, to enable me to abide in His Peace and move out into my day's activities from that place rather than just making a list and beginning to check it off as soon as I open my eyes.

Am I alone in this list making? Do you have a list? (Please say you have a list.)My list, which I found MUCH joy from checking off item by line item) used to look like this:


• Quiet time (Maybe checked off)


• Gym Time (Maybe checked off)


• Play Time with my Daughter (Maybe checked off)


• Work Time (Always checked off)


• Me time (Maybe checked off)


• Husband time (Usually checked off)


• Household "Duties" or other errands time (Usually checked off)


For all of us list makers, let me be clear. I am not suggesting that there is anything inherently wrong with my list making. On the contrary, getting into a routine and maintaining an efficient household is not a bad thing...it can be a very good thing. As my fellow out-law (my brother in law) has so aptly said, the world is run by type A people.


But for most of my adult life I have been ruled by my list.


I do not want to be ruled by a list. Not one I make and certainly not one that my perception of other's expectations would create for me.


I want to be ruled by the Prince of Peace.


He is the Lord of my life. (And my lists)

So, in this season of life I am stepping out and trying something new. I am living without lists. Instead, I am asking the Holy Spirit to remind me of things that need doing and those that don't. I am choosing peace over worry. Instead of stressing over the inevitable reality that I just can not get it all done, can not be all things I need to be to all the people I feel I need to be, I am simply-not. Much to my surprise, I have not missed much. My world has not come to a screeching halt just because I don't have a list to check off. I have been more intimately in touch with friends and family, and the relationships that truly matter are being fostered and are growing.

I am not living stuck in the wheel of failed expectations. Overwhlemed by the stress of letting people down (myself included)


INSTEAD....


I am living a balanced, restful, peaceful, sometimes fast, sometimes slow life.


And I love it.
I have found out that I am better when I go slower. A better wife. A better mommy. A better friend. Just better.

What I gained through loss

A friend recently asked me if I would share my baby story. At first thought, I was a bit scared to share. I have had a difficult road, but there are many, SO many that have walked a much more difficult path than I. So as not to trivialize my own story, nor attenuate the significance of each who has suffered, at whatever point and/or depth of experience, I will make this provision; there is grace for every journey. Capacity for every lesson that needs learning. I certainly didn't want to come off as self-indulgent or self-pitying. When sharing in something so personal, it would be easy for a reader to sit on the outside, without any "real" first-hand sense of what is being shared and judge the storyteller as one or the other. Then I was reminded of how sadly common a tale of loss it is, and just how tangible it could be for many women who might read my story....


I am currently four months into my second pregnancy this year. It would be difficult to tell the story of this pregnancy without venturing back into the travails of previous ripening experiences, and I want to be sure to give as much scope as possible...(so this is bound to be a bit lengthy)

I found out I was carrying our daughter five months into our marriage. Now, fortunately, I had married the man of my dreams AND we had been privy to some wonderful pre-marital counseling, so at least SOME tools were in place that allowed me to navigate the emotional shock of the news. You see, the man of my dreams was in the military. We had dated a year and a half at a distance, been married, lived in his parents' (God bless them!) studio apartment behind their house for two months and then traveled to his first duty station where we were living in a six-hundred something square foot apartment. For the first time since I graduated high school I was not working (at this point in my life, without a job, I felt I was completely lost for self-definition).So, I had begun preparing to go back to graduate school. Kids? Well they were a part of the three-five year plan, depending on how far up the academia ladder I aspired to climb.

And then it happened. I was pregnant. (Okay it didn't just "happen" but you get the point)

I laughed (filled with sarcasm)

I cried (perhaps moaned is a better word)

I was on bedrest for 6 weeks. (God had my attention)

And then, I adjusted. (Insert approximately 4 more blog posts about the journey of motherhood here.)

Okay, the adjustment part took the better of two years. But when I look at my sweet girl today, I CAN NOT imagine what life would be like without her. If I am being honest, I have not always felt that way about being a mom, so when it came time, meaning when I actually felt ready to try for number two it was a much different experience.

I was actually EXCITED.

As I had said, this is my second pregnancy this year. The first of our children to be born this year was born straight into the arms of Jesus in early April. Though it feels our dear one was gone too soon, a life lived far too shortly, the imprint our child has left upon my heart is one that will remain for a lifetime. Our second child is resting in the arms of Jesus, and there are moments in my days when that reality is the only solace that pushes me past the fear of what could be with this pregnancy.

A miscarriage is an odd, though unfortunately not rare, experience. Or at least that is what I found.

At first, there was nothing.

A deep sense of being empty, but no emotional reaction to the void.

People around me grieved for me. They were so sad for my sake. I felt guilty.

I asked myself, "Shouldn't I have felt...something? Anger? Pain? Relief? SOMETHING?!"

But the first few days there was just the emptiness.


And then it hit. The tidal wave of emotion. As I crawled into bed on the fourth night, my husband wrapped his arms around me. His hand touched my belly. That touch seemed to trigger the release of all that I had not been able to feel up until that moment. That night I nearly drowned in the sadness. I wept, long and hard, as so many others have for the child that I would not hold this side of Heaven.

I am celebrating each day of this pregnancy with deep joy. It has not been without trial. At week six I, once again, found myself on partial bedrest fighting for the life growing within me. Fighting by resting. My current journey of joy is so closely linked to the path of loss I have already tread. It is what I learned while traveling that path that allows me to walk through this pregnancy with joy and stand in opposition to every fear that attempts to cloud my mind and my heart.

There, standing on the path of loss, filled to overflowing with questions, fears, anger, sadness, one question begged answering. And the reply was so crucial that is would come to shape how I saw the world from that point on. "God, are you really GOOD?"

Before facing that point along my journey I would have answered with an easy and resounding,"Yes!" But this was the first time I had asked in earnest and given appropriate thought and space to the question. For several days I was not sure that I could give that same answer any longer.

But is finally came.The Peace. The Peace that comes only from the Prince of Peace. And I knew the answer was, and is, "Yes, my dear one I am GOOD. I give good gifts to my children. My purposes are GOOD."

God's good is eternal. I don't have to understand it to know it. His purposes are Kingdom purposes and His ways are higher than my ways. I know it. I believe it. I have come face to face with the question that shapes my entire world view, and I am elated at the reply.

God is good! Baby Peterson number three is on the way!

Growing Grace

It has been over a year since I have posted anything here. It feels like it has actually been longer than that. When I first ventured out to begin this blog I sincerely questioned whether or not I had anything to say...or actually anything worth saying.

It has been a long year. A good year. A hard year.

A very good year.

Over the past year there have been several times I sat down to write. I would begin to comment on something fabulously frustrating about the economy, or disheartening about our culture...but always stopped short of actually posting. Who really wants to listen to a whiner?

It may seem odd for to somehow marry the two ideas; that all I had to say over the past year would have sounded like whining, and at the same time it has been a good year. But truth is that is exactly what has happened. While walking through it I wanted to whine and complain and vent and sometimes scream. Looking back on it, I am increasingly grateful for the things I have learned, despite the pain of learning them. Experience has shown me (thus far at least) that it is only hindsight that allows us to see the beauty of or trials for what they really are.

Until now.

What I know now (and I mean know as in 'this is beginning to be truly written on my heart and actually happen in my life') is that each and every day I get to choose whether or not to see the beauty, embrace the joy, and rejoice with a heart full of thanksgiving-trial or no trial.

I have this image of my self standing in the middle of my bedroom full of things I have often felt on any given morning over the past year. I am sure (or I guess I hope I am not alone) that we have all felt them.

Overwhelmed.
Confused.
Bored.
Angry.
Scared.
Lost.
Hopeless.

So there I stand. Feeling. Taking inventory of the depth of my sensibilities.

Now let me note that in this picture it is just me. There is no attack happening. I am not dealing with a mental illness, or events that are beyond the scope of most people's life experiences. I am just living. Feeling. Being human.

And in that moment I get to choose. Do I give in to the emotion of it all? Do I just get all up and entitled to feel without self control whatever I happen to be feeling and then wallow in it all day? Do I choose to give the enemy an entry point to begin to attack my mind?

OR

Do I Choose to practice peace? Do I choose to stop and rest at the feet of Jesus and truly cast my cares upon Him? Do I allow grace to work in my life and work into my life so that I can in turn operate in grace the rest of that day?

Who do I want to be? What do I want to let the Spirit accomplish in me today?

Do I want to be a woman, wife, mother, sister, friend, employee, who is gracious? Or not?

It sounds a bit oversimplified, and I suppose in theory it is. But in practice I am finding that it is anything but simple. Or easy.

It is hard. But it is good.

What to say....

If you have ever driven through the Central Valley of California in the middle of January, at night, you most likely have experienced the trance inducing blindness caused by tulle fog. In order to survive this gift of nature, one must follow the tail lights of the car in front of them. The trick is to stay far enough behind so as not to slam in to said tail lights if one needs to slam on the brakes suddenly, but close enough that one can actually see the lights through fog that causes nearly zero visibility.
At the moment, I feel a little bit like that fog...so I am asking for some help....be my tail...lights. I promise not to tailgate too long...but if you would kindly offer your two cents about what I should address in this little blog o' mine, I would greatly appreciate it...

Thought # 1- God loves me...and I am increasingly aware of how short I fall of loving Him or the people he has called me to love (basically everyone) very well...

Thought #2- I am hooked on the Bachelorette. I want Deanna to find happiness and marital bliss....call it escapism, voyeurism, whatever, I just want the girl to be truly happy...

Thought # 3- Contentment....Rest...Peace....and.....life in transition...How the heck does that work?

Thought # 4- I have friends all over the US that I would LOVE to have all move to one place and raise kids with, experience the change with, grieve our losses together, celebrate our successes and milestones with, and I am beginning to admit to myself that most likely we will not all end up in the same city....this STINKS.

Thought # 5- My Husband....well he is just amazing. There are not enough words....though I might try...to express how grateful I am for the gift God has given me in my Renaissance Man of a Husband....(sighing wistfully)- no , really...I am.

So...I will likely write in some way shape or form about all of these...but where to start.

Lead on, you glowing red lights of direction....through the fog of my current caffeine deprived state....lead on.

Or you can just vote.

This One Goes Out To My Sweet Auntie KK

"New Blog Tomorrow!!!" How is that for leaving them wanting more! HA!

Through Another's Eyes

We are moving tomorrow. Now don't get me wrong, I am ecstatic about the idea of doubling our living space, even if it does mean 15 extra minutes on the freeway when traveling anywhere...but moving is a chore! This is our sixth move in 3 1/2 years. Thank you very much to the US military. (Not a complaint. I completely knew what I was getting into when I married my husband, and he knew what he was getting into when he joined the service...) But since it is our sixth move we are actually finding that we are quite good at it. In fact we are nearly professional grade. Everything is taken care of down to the last detail. All the utilities transferred, TV service set up, phone service, moving truck, SUPER KIND people to help us move....we have it all. And in fact we have been enjoying planning for our new place. We spent a whole evening the other night wandering through IKEA trying to figure out how we were going to spend all the money we have saved decorating our new place....

But there was one thing that we managed...or I should say I managed to forget... (I wouldn't want to speak for my husband through a blog post-he says I do that enough for him anyhow)
And that, my friends, was that lovely thing we all need a dose of from time-to time. No, not Mylanta.....

Perspective.

Oh my....did the Holy Spirit have some plans to remind me of just how blessed we are.

I spent an hour today with a family that had been evicted form their apartment. They did not even have diapers for their precious son, Baby J. Mom had changed the last one when I came upon them in the parking lot.

This was actually the second time we had ran into each other.
You see, fifteen minutes earlier, a man had come by my table at Starbucks. There I was sitting with my brand new Kate Spade sunglasses on, sipping my 5 dollar coffee doing work that I am privileged to be able to do from home, or Starbucks, or anywhere else I please. Trying to figure out how I was going to add to my commission this year, when this man, dressed a little scruffy, walking with a limp, came by and asked me for help.

Of course I would help.

Are you hungry? Here ya go...

Trouble is I don't think I even heard what he originally asked for help with. I just assumed he was some vagrant, looking for a handout....and (I thought to myself so self rightously it now makes me actually ill at my stomach) "Of course I would never just give him money," so I gave him my drink.

Friends.....Friends!

Would someone PLEASE slap me. When, oh when, did I become so darn important that I no longer feel the need to listen to stranger finish a sentence?

Fortunately, I was about to get a big ol' kick in the hind parts....

So there I was feeling so very helpful one might have though I just single handly figured out ecaxtly how we ought to get our troops in Iraq home and hand delivered the solution to the President himelf. And then, I hopped back into my car to go to the chik-fil-a to get something else to eat, since I had oh so generously given away my drink.

And then came the Voice that speaks to the part of me that sometimes listens...and should do so more often...

"You didn't even listen to that man. You don't know what he needs. He needs Me."

So, I went back to the parking lot and, like a dog with my tail between my legs, pulled up next to the family of five in the parking lot, and swallowed my pride...

" I am sorry, I didn't listen to you. I just handed you my drink and I have no idea what you actually need. I want to help. What do you need? How did you get here?"

I found out from the father of the family that they all work, but don't have enough to pull togehter rent for the last couple of months and thus were living in a hotel room, and needed to manage 12 more dollars to keep the room for the night....and they needed diapers for the baby...and gas.

So, here I am, about to move into my new house with more space than we actually NEED, and this family of five is living in a motel room....without money for diapers....

I feel so overwhelmed with the power of God's provision in our lives and His mercy.....I mean , really.....who am I that I have it so amazingly wonderful? That we have food on the table, a roof over our heads....LOTS of new fun things to enjoy....

Friends...to say I am humbled...well, that feels a little bit too proud.

So, we are still moving into our house...but right about now, and I pray it stays this way... that house looks like a mansion.

And I will continue to pray that some day my new friends will enjoy with me a Mansion on hill, streets of gold, an eternity with no need, no tears, and the Love of a God who owns a thousand cattle on a thousand hills....

Oh, how I pray.

What I think of you...Kinda...

What do I think of you?
(...as stolen and adapted from Ash, who stole it from Nicole, who perhaps stole it from various others.)

Leave your name in my blog comments. Once you do that, this is what I'll do for you...
1. I'll respond with some random thought about you.
2. I'll tell you what song or movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a place for us to visit, together.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something I've always wondered about you.