Walking in Humility: When Life Is Stressful

Today is a trash can full of crumpled rough drafts that didn’t make the cut.

Pressed for time, many to-dos, forgetful.

Left late, wrong turns, detours.

Rushed, stressed, chaos.

Disobedience, repeating, frustration.

Hyper children, dog poop, baby fingers.

Play outside, space to think, it’s always something.

Car climbing, dog escaping, dinner burning.

Wet baby, dog water, playing with garbage.

Sassy son, too many kids, can’t catch a break.

Can’t catch my breath.

Lost my mind.

Check under the sofa. It could be under there with a dirty diaper, the TV remote we can never find, Lego blocks, and action figures.  Maybe a dog toy or two. Some old underwear? A baby binky? I guess you never know.

Or we could dig through the dirty dishes in the sink. Maybe I dropped it in there with the soggy Cheerios from breakfast this morning. It could be in the tall stack of pots, as well. The one with the leftover pasta sauce rotting inside.

We should shuffle through the stack of school papers on the counter and flash cards that didn’t get rehearsed today. Or any day this week. Or last. Maybe it’s by the book order I forgot about or the one thousand handouts about parties, dress-down days, concerts, meetings, and projects due. Perhaps it accidentally got buried in there.

What about the four hampers of clean clothes I have yet to fold? It’s possible that my mind just fell on out and landed in there as I walked by. I doubt I would’ve noticed its absence as I frantically ran out the door after the dog. A revolving door would be nice because closing it seems too much of a chore for those that come and go here.

Maybe the mental haze I feel is due to the fact that it’s baking in the oven with the potatoes I put in about an hour ago. With all the pieces of my mind I’ve handed out today, what remains is probably about the size of a potato, so it would’ve blended in nicely.

Let me know if you find it.

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This post is part of a series I’m writing for the month of October called, Walking in Humility: Learning to Abide with God in the Everyday. If you’re interested in the reading the rest of the series, you can find it here. Enjoy!

Walking in Humility: A Grateful Heart

Having a baby is difficult in more ways than the labor. It's the life impact, the day-altering sacrifices. How the baby orders the steps that used to be set by the rhythm of your family. It's finding new rhythms and setting them in place.

The clock doesn't wait for the constant needs of feeding, changing, and rest. Everything takes longer, and there isn't room to fit it all in. What used to be, that is.

This last child grabbed a fistful of my mind on his way out, and it hasn't been the same since. I still find myself searching for the carefree person I used to know--the one not easily stressed and overwhelmed, the one not anxious about routine things like going to the grocery store, the one who enjoyed making memories--but I have yet to unearth her completely. 

One of the things that came up with the kids recently is that "we don't do many fun things as a family."  Intentional time and activities have certainly been lacking, and the honest feedback, though brutal, is good to hear sometimes. It's a hard reset on an equally hard year. 

The day exuded fall, wonderfully moody one minute and sunny the next, its temperament changing with the wind.

The weather was gorgeous, and it beckoned us out of the house. 

And just like the crispness in the wind, it was a much-needed breath of fresh air.

Time to pay attention.

To appreciate the beauty around us.

Time to pause long enough to be present, to etch these moments in our memory.

To stand in awe of Him, of His creation and blessings.

To cultivate a grateful heart and find joy again.

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This post is part of a series I’m writing for the month of October called, Walking in Humility: Learning to Abide with God in the Everyday. If you’re interested in the reading the rest of the series, you can find it here. Enjoy!

Walking in Humility: Honest Self-Assessment

"She's so open about her shortcomings that it makes it really hard to use them against her."

It was a line spoken in jest on the Best Friends Whenever episode my daughter wanted to watch this morning. 

Huh, I thought. Isn't that freeing. 

Jesus said, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. 32 Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” {John 8:31-32}

The truth breaks down walls, unlocks chains, and sets captives free.

Not only the truth about God and what He thinks of us but the truth about everything. The truth about relationships, gifts, talents, personality, limitations, resources, and support.

Lies in any form will keep us behind bars and from reaching our God-given potential, but so often we choose to live there, closing the door of our prison cell with our own hands. We lie to ourselves for many reasons but mostly to try to meet a legitimate need in an illegitimate way. We are desperate for love and affection, we long for approval, we don't want to be in pain, and so we lie.

He would pay more attention to me if only I....

They didn't really mean to treat me that way. I must've just misunderstood.

If only my life were like hers, if I had what she had, then I'd be happy.

I'd be more attractive if I were a couple sizes smaller.

They are really awful people, so it's okay if I rip them apart on social media.

I mean, I know some bad things happened, but it all worked out okay. The past doesn't matter.

Every time I see her, she's so calm and patient with her kids. She's a much better mom than I am.

Those people are all addicted to drugs and don't deserve my money or resources.

This food/person/relationship/workout/thing will make me feel better.

If I'm able to live up to the ideal image of a _________, then I will be satisfied and fulfilled.

Facing the truth about reality is often painful, so painful that many people will go to great lengths to avoid ever having to think about it. We bury the truth, subvert the truth, mask the truth, avoid the truth, and hide the truth, even from ourselves. The truth, while sometimes more painful than we care to imagine, is also more beautiful and freeing than we dare to admit.

We have to be willing to look at things for what they truly are and grieve, if necessary, to live free and out from under the heavy burden of lies that hold us captive.

As a young mother, I lived with the weight of the ideal homemaker, Christian, and wife on my shoulders.

It was exhausting.

Certain ways of doing things, which in and of themselves were efficient and exemplary, were, at least in my experience, portrayed as "the only way." Anything short of that meant, well, you're not very good at this. You failed. You haven't measured up.

I lived in the shadow of this ideal for years, and it literally gnawed away at my soul to the point where I wanted to give up and throw in the towel on the Christian life. I told a friend in confidence on a retreat that I was done. Done trying, done striving. I knew how to "play church" as well as anyone, and I would still show up on Sundays with a smile on my face, but it wouldn't mean anything. I didn't know what else to do.

She didn't know either, but she listened. She welcomed the opportunity to know the real me, truth and all. We half-heartedly agreed to spend more time reading our Bibles.

But as time unfolded, I began to lay those ideals down and grieve their passing. To admit, yes, I will never measure up. And you know what? It's okay. Because I realized "the only Way" that was true and good and perfect and right was Jesus, and there was nothing more I could do then what He had already done for me. Furthermore, His relationship is different and unique with everyone. It's certainly not a one-size-fits-all gig.

It's freeing to realize a lot of the "how to's" preached in Christian circles cater to disciplined, type-A personalities.

Wake up early in the morning, before anyone else, to spend time in the word and prayer. 

Read your bible every day.

Journal and apply scripture to your life. Doodles and embellishments optional but highly encouraged. 

Get your Read Through the Bible in a Year Plan and start checking off the days. 

Make sure to attend a bible study to continue learning and growing.

It's also incredibly freeing to realize that I am not one of those type-A people...

But I spent years upon years trying harder, vowing to do better, setting resolutions, and journaling apologies for my failures, again. Until I finally was able to see the truth that God just didn't make me that way, and it's okay. 

Although I may not read my bible daily, the Holy Spirit is ever-present in my heart and ear, and I can meet with Him just as deeply poring over the Word as I can pouring water out of dirty dishes at the kitchen sink. 

I can learn about Him while attending a bible study or Christian conference, but I can also learn about Him in the eyes of my children, in their gaze of unwavering love and trust. I can smell Him on the wind as fresh air breathes life into my lungs. I can walk with Him in the cool of the day and know the sound of His footsteps. I can hear His still, small voice as I go about the mundane tasks of my day.

The truth breaks down walls, unlocks chains, and sets captives free, but we have to be willing to humble ourselves to see it. We have to be willing to look it square in the face and own it. 

And it's worth it, friends, because when we finally surrender, we find victory in Christ. Walk with Him in humility today. 

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This post is part of a series I’m writing for the month of October called, Walking in Humility: Learning to Abide with God in the Everyday. If you’re interested in the reading the rest of the series, you can find it here. Enjoy!

Walking in Humility: His Kindness Leads Us to Repentance

Jesus Calls His First Disciples {Luke 5:1-11}

One day as Jesus was standing by the Lake of Gennesaret,[a] the people were crowding around him and listening to the word of God. 2 He saw at the water’s edge two boats, left there by the fishermen, who were washing their nets. 3 He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little from shore. Then he sat down and taught the people from the boat.

4 When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch.”

5 Simon answered, “Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets.”

6 When they had done so, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break. 7 So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them, and they came and filled both boats so full that they began to sink.

8 When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus’ knees and said, “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!” 9 For he and all his companions were astonished at the catch of fish they had taken, 10 and so were James and John, the sons of Zebedee, Simon’s partners.

Then Jesus said to Simon, “Don’t be afraid; from now on you will fish for people.”11 So they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him.

I love how quick Jesus was to say, “don’t be afraid.”

It’s okay. It’s all good. Peter had no reason to be afraid for doubting, for messing up, for thinking he knew better. Not only did Jesus refuse to leave him to wallow in his failure and sin as he asked, He did the opposite. He invited him to get up and follow Him.

Don’t you see how wonderfully kind, tolerant, and patient God is with you? Does this mean nothing to you? Can’t you see that his kindness is intended to turn you from your sin? {Romans 2:4, NLT}

I have known for a long time it’s His kindness that leads us to repentance, but if I’m going to be honest with you here, I had no idea how to translate that to real life.

A kind word turns away wrath, yes.

Do good to those who persecute you. Incredibly difficult, but I understand.

But with God as our Father, how does that play out in parenting? When my kids majorly screw up, the last thing I want to say to them is “don't be afraid.” Maybe "afraid" isn't the right word, but I want life to be uncomfortable enough that they will think twice before making that decision again. 

I’m quick with thoughts of well, if only you had listened, this wouldn’t have happened, and, that's exactly why I told you not to do that. Depending on how riled up I am by the blatant disrespect, screaming, and disobedience, well, I might just have to restrain myself from screaming right back at them. Other days I fail miserably at the restraint part.

I often think, why don’t they get it yet? Why are we still fighting these same battles day after day after day?

One day as we were pulling out of the driveway and I had tell the boys in the backseat to buckle up yet again, it occured to me that this was a conversation I've had with them daily for years. I wondered in that moment exactly how many times I’d uttered the phrase “put your seatbelts on.”

Let's assume we put the oldest in a booster seat at age four. He’s now two months shy of 10. Let’s assume also, as he was in preschool at the time, that on average, we left the house once a day, which would involve buckling up twice. I’m sure there were days we stayed home, but there were also days we went multiple places, so it’s probably an incredibly low estimate. Let’s assume, just for fun, I had to remind the children to buckle up each time.

With the oldest being 9 years old, it’s a total of at least 3,650 times.

3,650 times I have instructed them to put their seatbelts on, and they still haven’t "gotten it." 

Let that sink in for a moment. I have told them thousands of times to perform the this task, the same task they need to perform each and every time we enter the vehicle (it’s not like it’s an oddity), and it still has not become habit.

And honestly, sometimes when I look in the rear view mirror and see them positioned in such a way that would make it impossible to indeed be belted, and I have to again utter the phrase "buckle up," my hands tighten their grip on the steering wheel and my jaw clenches as I listen for the clicks from the back seat. 

I think to myself...why do I always have to tell them this? Why don’t they get it by now? It’s not that hard. Get in the car, sit down, and put on your seatbelt. Agent Oso would have boiled it down to those "three special steps" and the child would've mastered it by the end of the 20 minute show! Why must I always remind them?

Every time we get in the car, I pull out of the driveway with a small, subconscious glimmer of hope, thinking maybe, just maybe, today will be the day. Maybe today they will remember to buckle up on their own. 

But you don’t see that at all in Jesus.

And I realized that my perspective as a parent has been... wrong.

You see, while Jesus is aiming for the perfection of eternity, He also fully expects their humanity. He makes room for their doubt, their failures. He makes room for their imperfections and sin, allowing them to learn from their mistakes with an air of patience and grace I often don't possess as a parent. 

With Jesus, it's not about all the times you got it wrong. It's about the one time you got it right.

Expectations pave the way for either contentment or disappointment, so it's vital we set them accordingly. Because the reality is, there will be some things that, on this side of heaven, the kids will never master, even as adults. But it doesn't mean we shouldn't keep trying or we shouldn't keep training them: we just need to allow for their humanity with a God-given patience and grace. Lord knows I can't do it on my own...

It's a welcome paradigm shift:

Harping on failures  > > > > > >  Celebrating victories

Condemnation  > > > > > >  Grace

Anticipating achievement  > > > > > >  Anticipating repeated need for instruction

Frustration  > > > > > >  Patience

Expecting mastery/perfection  > > > > > >  Expecting sin/humanity

Jesus isn't surprised or caught off guard by our humanity. He fully expects it. He tells us not to be afraid, because He sees the struggles that war within. In His kindness and grace, He knows that the only way to overcome our sin is to stand up and follow Him. To allow Him to fill the spaces in which we are weak.

It's not about all the times we messed up.

With Jesus, it's about the one time we got up and chose to walk with Him in humility. 

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This post is part of a series I’m writing for the month of October called, Walking in Humility: Learning to Abide with God in the Everyday. If you’re interested in the reading the rest of the series, you can find it here. Enjoy!

Walking in Humility: There's Freedom in Embracing the Tension

I tied a knot on our busy morning by vacuuming the floor just before I laid the kids down for a nap. My daughter promptly came back downstairs to tell me the dog was playing with a toilet paper roll. 

Eh, it doesn't look like a full roll, I thought when she handed it to me. Thankfully.

I assumed we dodged a bullet until I rounded the corner and saw a healthy pile of shredded tissue all over the black rug I'd vacuumed just moments before. I followed the trail and located ground zero in the bathroom upstairs. 

Sigh. 

When all parties were tucked back in bed and the dog wrangled downstairs, I proceeded to pick up all the tiny bits of white by hand. The article titled, Motherhood: The Big, Fat F*ck You, came to mind. I have no idea why. But to this thought I said, yes. And amen.

I'll raise you pet ownership, too, if we are, in fact, going to add to the list.

This was a prior paper towel incident. While I was downstairs cleaning the basement, she was upstairs happily uncleaning the family room. Dogs these days. Sheesh.

I'm sure you all have your own personal chips you could throw on the pile.

Some days the lack of recognition, the seemingly futile attempts to train the future generation, or the muddying of your hard work seems like no more than a big middle finger.

But other days... Other days you're sitting at the kitchen table painting your daughter's tiny toenails, while she makes her brother laugh in his seat. You marvel at the sun shining through the window at just the right angle, creating a halo-like glow in her silky blonde hair. Their eyes light up as they smile at each other and carry on, a blessing of the close bond of siblings. 

Amazing also are the colors she picks out, each toe something different. Colors you'd never have thought to put together, but somehow, it works well. Your hand rests on her warm little leg as the polish dries and you study their little faces, their eyes and their smiles, how her head tilts to the side when she laughs just so, how he points with his cubby little finger, bringing it up to his pursed little mouth. You want to etch this moment in your memory so you'll never forget the lines of their faces, their Chiclet-toothed grins, the joy filling your soul.

Love and gratitude begin to well up in your heart to the degree that you realize this must be how God Himself feels when he gazes upon His children. And in that moment, no article in the universe could do more to convince you this is the absolute best job in the world. The rewards may not be quantifiable, but they are deeply fulfilling, and there's nowhere else you'd rather be than painting pink sparkly polish on stinky little feet.

I don't know what you contemplate while vacuuming, but today I thought about how motherhood, as with most situations or vocations in life, is a reflection of the mysterious "both/and" tension that orders the universe, and even our human hearts.

Cherish every moment, people say. They grow up so quick!

Now, I don't believe that every moment is cherish-able. Because sometimes? Motherhood is a big, fat F*ck you. Sometimes it just downright sucks. There's no need to sugar-coat it. In fact, I'll even go as far as to say it's detrimental to sugar-coat it.

But, it does go quick. I know there will be a day I'll brush cobwebs away and pull the etchings of their tiny, sweet faces out of a dusty memory vault, wishing so desperately I could be back at the kitchen table for one more moment. 

It's both/and.

Big middle finger/best job in the world.

Exhausting/Exhilarating.

This also applies to the human heart: Sinner/Saint. The beating heart of an individual is capable both of incredible atrocities and immense good.

Wretched/Redeemed.

God of Wrath/God of Love. Spend any time in the Old Testament, and you'll walk away with a view of God that may surprise you. Vengeful, jealous, and full of anger and wrath. It's hard to reconcile with the God portrayed by Jesus in the New Testament. 

Law/Grace. 

The one thing all of these both/and's have in common? The /.

Jesus is the / that makes it work. Only He is able to bridge the gap, to allow the two opposing forces to exist in a mysterious tension. 

Because of Jesus, the drudgery and frustration of motherhood doesn't have the final say. Even on the worst of days, He can turn it around in a "slash" and use it for good if we let Him. When we have nothing left to offer, He is able to provide. When we're fresh out of mercy, He can calm the storm.

Even though Jesus took my place on the cross, I am still a sinner. But because He died for me, I'm no longer just a sinner. In Him, the sinners become saints and the wretched, redeemed.

God isn't a God of scarcity, limits and boxes but of abundance, possibility, and hope. And because of Him,

no past,

no label,

no identity, 

no choice, 

and no day 

will ever again have the final say.