thoughts on singleness... from the dark side

I hesitate to commit these thoughts to 'paper' ... but my Mom wisely discerned yesterday something about me that I hadn't yet figured out for myself.

Three years ago, I was hurting.... because I thought I was not good enough to be married yet... and that I was not attractive enough to be pursued by a man for marriage... and that perhaps maybe God had forgotten about me. That hurt, not imaginary but definitely based on some massive mistruths, became compounded after years of watching my friends fall in love, date, be pursued, get married and have kids. Many of them, without meaning to, no longer had time for me, their single friend. My loneliness now magnified the hurt, and I vowed that I would never EVER be that hurtful if I ever (miraculously) got married.

Somehow, I recognized even under the mountain of lies I made, that my friends did not forget me on purpose... I was willing to be generous and give them the benefit of the doubt that they were oblivious to anyone but themselves for a moment in time. Hopefully they would come back to me once they got over this phase of being newlyweds. Some did, some didn't. I resolved that those that didn't were good riddance... and I carried my hurt like a backpack.

Crazily enough... the miraculous happened... God reminded me that my lies were deep, insidious and so not true. And then He did one better, as He always does (if only we open our eyes to see it), and allowed an amazing, godly, quirky, funny, unexpected man to marry me. BOOM.

But that backpack of hurt that I had carried for so many years didn't just drop away. I had to peel it off. And boy... pre-marital counseling was no joke in that regard. I was a big blubbering mess, and somehow my husband chose to continue loving me. (wow, right?!) Some days, the backpack tries to sit in a visible corner, begs to be picked back up... and my dear husband has to remind me to take out that trash all over again.

Two days ago... even though the backpack wasn't visible... the red pressure marks that burden left on my shoulders showed up. I wanted to prove to my single girlfriend that she was important too, and that she was not forgotten. Even though I was married, I could still spend time with her and make her feel loved. I was not going to be the unfeeling married person. 

Ugh. Sadly, I did all that without regard to my husband's feelings. I left him at home, without really communicating my expectations for the evening, and then had the audacity to get upset at him because he wanted to know where I was and when I would be coming home! Oh. Me. Oh. My.

My mom asked me yesterday, in her blunt and honest fashion... if I remembered how I would drop anything to remain in his favor while we were dating. I loved him so much, that if he wanted me to text him, I would! At any time, no matter what- even if it seemed rude to my girlfriends. I tried to justify myself to her... and said, "well, obviously I still love him just as much. I'm just not as obsessed as I was when we were dating." She called out my balderdash, and challenged me again. Just because I was married did not give me license to now ignore my husband's feelings. OUCH. My mama knows how to call it.

That backpack of lies is full of lies. And those lies are still needing to be dealt with. God has not forgotten my single friends. They are not less worthy because they are not married. And they ARE beautiful, even if they don't feel that way or are not being pursued and recognized.

I'm not abandoning my single friends because I'm now married... but I am going to need to put them in perspective. And as much as it feels horrible to say this, my husband needs to be my priority. (even typing that seems wrong... my old single-self wants to cry out against that 'married snobbery' ... ) So I'm typing it again. God comes first, and then my husband needs to be my priority.

Parable of the Prodigal Son

On Tuesday I had the opportunity to go to Phoenix 1- a gathering of believing 20-30somethings in the area.

It was an interesting new 'cultural experience' for this re-entry of mine, and I enjoyed meeting some of the people that my sisters interact with.

What really prompted this blog though, was some thoughts that started with a one-man skit that was performed that night. The guy that did it was pretty great- he was able to command the whole group's attention for about thirty minutes!

The story line? It was a re-enactment of the story commonly known as the Prodigal Son. The actor had modernized the story a bit, so I almost felt that I identified the story sooner than those around me.

He started out first as the rebellious younger son, striving to be let out of the house and out from under his father's heavy hand. Then the lights changed on the stage, and the actor became the responsible older brother, sighing heavily over his brother's follies. What totally struck me as different in this portrayal, however, is that right about when I thought the actor was going to be finished with the story... he came to the center of the stage and portrayed the father. The final act where the father bemoaned the choices of both of his sons gave me a new moment of insight into the older son.

Then today I read an article in Christianity Today, entitled, "Party Favors." In it the author posits that this parable is primarily about the older son, and not the younger one. This was interesting to me since I had just been thinking about these things from the other night. What really struck me, though is when the author began to wonder, as he says, " if, from Jesus' perspective, having a feast in one's honor is a blessing, but being invited to help the father host the banquet is a vastly greater gift."

Wow, right?!

I mean... I've always thought it was the younger brother that totally disrespected the father, but if you think about what a privilege it is to be part of a family and to be in such a position of honor and respect that you are asked to host the party with the head of the household and you turn in down?

Oh man.

And all these years when I self-identified with the older brother and felt so gypped by the younger son who got to go out and come back to a freakin' party... Little did I realize that not only did I 'stay home' and 'obey the rules'... but I also had started to reject the wonderful, immense joy of hosting with the Father. Ouch.

(This realization was given even more layers when I thought about all my experiences in Central Asia, with hosts who gave over and above just because they were being good hosts. Incredible to think about what the Father is offering to us in that cultural light.)

I want to end with the words of the author of the article, because she says it so much better than I could:

"As Jesus tells it, the Father is hosting a lavish banquet, and we're invited--not because of our own merit, but because he loves us. And there's more. He's invited us to help him throw the party--neither as servants nor as guests, but as family." -Carolyn Arends

some thoughts on motherhood

So--

this blog will be transitioning into more of a personal blog... so, if you are still reading this, be forewarned things will be more diary-ish than before! I think I'm pretty safe to transition without a lot of ceremony or name changing (like others of my friends), since my dismal reader stats are a fair reflection upon my less than regular blogging habits.

On that note- I'm going to dive right on in.

I've been thinking about motherhood a lot the past few weeks. Actually, these thoughts started a while ago- but the past few weeks I have been given the chance to observe three different families' parenting styles "up close and personal." These families are all fellow believers, all have three or more children, all homeschool in one way or another, and ALL have been generous enough to have this single chick thoroughly sharing in their lives while I live with them.

Even with knowing that my observations may never have practical implications in my own life because the Lover of my soul has other plans for the life that I think of as mine (yes, I did heave a big sigh when I wrote that- I'm still working on contentment in this realization), I still want to write these particular motherhood thoughts out.

It takes a HUGE amount of self-control to be a good mother. This may not be news to you, and it wasn't news to me either. But it begs to be repeated about twenty gadjillion times. When you are interrupted for the millionth time, by yet another little needy thing that the small person could actually have done for themselves while you are clearly up to your elbows (or eyebrows) in three other people's needs... self-control must be a fruit of the motherly spirit indeed.

Families are noisy. That cleaned up living room with decorous behavior on Sunday morning when you all gather? It's not necessarily a facade, it's just more of a once a week occurrence. He he. However, I'm still trying to figure out whether noise level is a stage or not. This was not a subject that my child development courses in university, nor nursing school covered. Working in day care I know a lot about noise levels, and for the most part I have what I consider a very high level of tolerance for screaming two-year olds (I know it's not all your fault moms- your child is learning how to assert him/herself and communicate. I know.) However, if I have children that are like me (eeeks!), are there ways I could short-circuit the screaming and temper tantrums? Or is it something I'll just have to live through until they turn 25? (I sincerely hope the second one is not true- because if it is true, even if I got married this year and had kids right away, I'd be looking at some auditory orderliness to start when I'm 53. Oiy.)

It makes me wonder, are some homes quieter than others because of certain parenting techniques? Or did their children simply get quieter as they got older, and I'm only seeing a reflection of their age? It could possibly be a combination of both... but if you have suggestions to offer on how to parent kids to be less argumentative/scream-y, I'm open!

Families are messy. Messy emotionally, but mostly messy in your living room/kitchen/hallways kinda way. I'm definitely starting to think about techniques on how to get your barely-walking-toddler to pick up while toddling. I like mopping and making sure countertops are clean- but I just don't like the eternal everlasting putting "stuff" away. I'll let you know if I come up with anything super stellar-- until then, I might consider limiting my children to playing outside with sticks and stones like the olden days. ;)

There is always someone, somewhere who thinks you're crazy whenever you make certain decisions about your kids. I think I've seen that you can be pretty crazy as a mom, and you might need to actually gather a group of women (some older, some younger), who will tell you when you are going insane and not thinking properly in your mama-bear madness (in love, of course!). Then, make decisions with your husband that both of you can stick to. Yes, both of you, without being swayed by anyone except your Father. In addition to joint decisions, do not let your self worth be centered upon your kids. They won't be enough. Yes, it may feel that you are just a fight-breaker-upper, dish washing, chief chef... but mothers are more than that. Take home message? There are two: Don't make decisions or gauge yourself based solely on other's opinions. Don't go insane. :D

There's more... but that's enough for today...