Treasures

"I write to hold what I find in my life in my hands and declare it a treasure" (Lucy Calkins).
That is my writing mantra, yet I've failed miserably at living up to it. I'm not referring so much to the writing part of it as that is rather inconsequential. I'm referring to the part about glimpsing the treasure, even in the seemingly mundane moments of life. It seems the last few months, even the last several, have been rather stale. Not that anything has been wrong necessarily, nothing specifically negative...just a dry spell, I suppose.

It feels like I spend most days just going through the motions, checking things off of a list, but not really holding on to the moments in order to remember them and give them meaning. I suppose that is why I haven't been here. Because who wants to hear about another tedious day of school? Or a lazy afternoon? Or a trip to the mall? 

See? I'm missing the point. I'm missing the treasures. Instead of that tedious day of school, I need to focus on the fact that I found a new way to teach long division so one of my boys could better understand it. I should tell about how the kids created a crepe paper laser beam obstacle course to take up some time on a rainy afternoon. I should highlight the big smile that we couldn't erase from one boy's face when he got his new Transitions lenses on his glasses. Or I should tell about how one of those tedious days ended with my baby saying to me, "Mommy? I love you so much!" 

These are the treasures I'm missing because I've no longer been intentionally making the effort to see them and mull them over and cherish them. Moreover, I've no longer been putting forth any effort to create experiences for the kids that generate these treasures. I can't believe how quickly they're growing up. Everyone warned me. They just warned me when I was up to my elbows in spit up, dirty diapers, and crumby floors. So I didn't believe them. Now I've forgotten to remember how fast it goes by.

It is time now to start recapturing the moments and declaring them treasures.

It's Not About Me

Psalm 127:3 - Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward.

"Mommy, will you please print a coloring page for me?" She hesitates as she makes her request. She knows. She can guess what my answer will be.

I sigh. "Not right now, Baby," I mumble, not looking up from whatever important task I am engaged in.

Predictable.

I glance up and see a look flash across her face. What is it? Resentment? Disappointment? Or maybe just a Why did I even bother to ask? look.

I don't want to be that mom anymore.

I don't want to be the mom who always says No or Wait or Not now or Later.

I don't want to be the mom who rationalizes that she is "here for them" just because she is physically present in the same room.

I've been thinking a lot lately. Pondering. And listening. Finally listening to the promptings. I've been bombarded by them as of late...various blogger friends who have voiced their decisions to slow down, to change their priorities; a Bible study at church encouraging us parents to remember what it's all about; words from One Thousand Gifts (Voskamp) reaching out, shaking me. Don't you hear? Haven't you figured it out yet?

It's not about you.

How do I want my children to remember me? That was our mom...she always loaded the dishwasher just right. She made sure there were no crumbs on the floor. She had a thousand Facebook friends. She really mastered the art of photography.

Or do I want them to know me as the mother who put my all into loving them, guiding them, teaching them. The mother who pointed them to the Father and who modeled a Godly life for them?

Don't I want to be remembered as the mother who knew it, who lived it?

It's not about me!

Sudden Change

A big part of our lives is about to change. And suddenly, with so little warning...as I imagine has happened to many here in our area after so much was lost to the floods. Since our home was not affected adversely, I did not think I would be personally affected by it at all. However, our church is a big part of our lives, and it was affected seemingly--at least from where we stand now--beyond repair.

The storms apparently and according to our Pastor, caused an underground spring to break loose, flooding the downstairs. Even after the rains have ceased, water continues to flow into the walls and flooring, and mold has already begun to grow. Estimated repairs are in the hundreds of thousands of dollars, money we do not have right now as a church that was already struggling financially.

So just like that, we've moved out. Perhaps not permanently, but I would venture to say indefinitely. Tonight's activities had already been canceled, but like so many daily challenges, my assumption was that the water would be pumped out, the mess cleaned out, back to business as usual on Sunday. However, instead there are already movers helping get valuable items out of harm's way, and we have plans to meet with another church on Sunday.

I realize church is not about the building. It's about the people. I love the people at our church, and I rest safely each week in the familiarity. I know that I will pass certain familiar faces in the children's area, in the preschool area, in the long hallway. And I know that when I take my usual seat in the sanctuary I can glance over at specific areas and see the same people sitting there. While I know many of these same people will venture over to the new church, there will inevitably be many who do not. They will go other directions. Last week may have been the last time I saw them.

I know my children will experience this as well. I haven't even told them yet. What stopped us dead in our tracks a couple years ago from pursuing a move to Florida was our children's comments that "We will miss our friends at church." I know they will miss some of them now, even without a move a state away. Not only will they miss friends, but I have a sneaking suspicion we will have to start all over with Jacob. He has been so brave for the last year and half going into this class. But it was all familiar to him.

Change is never easy. This one is so sudden and heartbreaking. I know life--and what is so significantly a part of it--will ease back in to some sense of normalcy at some point. The transition will be uncomfortable, but hopefully we come full circle back to familiarity sooner rather than later.

What the 4th Means to Me

I haven't always been a proud American. Growing up, America was a place I visited for a year's furlough. Aside from good-byes from my MK friends, furloughs weren't half bad. A furlough was a year's time to enjoy the conveniences of America, to indulge in McDonald's hamburgers and a plethora of other treat options. Of course, furlough also meant a new school, new people, and a different church almost every week. I enjoyed my time here, but I was always thrilled to be heading back "home".

I still miss Africa, but I have now spent as much of my life in America as in Africa, and, well, America feels like home now. Even as I've learned to call it home, I can't say I have passed all of my time on this side of the ocean with a great deal of patriotism. But my patriotism has certainly grown over the last several years.

I can point to one specific thing that caused an inner awareness about my apathy toward this country and the freedom and opportunity it offers. Shortly after the bombs began to drop in Afghanistan in 2001, I remember watching some sort of Presidential thing honoring soldiers. In it was a slideshow depicting soldiers saying goodbye to their families, the background music of "I'm already there" (Rascal Flatts maybe??) adding to the poignancy of the moment. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I remember experiencing that sudden epiphany: These soldiers are sacrificing potentially everything for MY country, for MY freedom. What an awesome call to service they have.

The 4th of July used to be, for me, just a merry day for fireworks and barbecues. I get it now, though. I get that I live in a great country, a country where I can worship as I want to worship and teach my children in the manner in which I want them taught. Those are freedoms which have come at a cost, and I am grateful for all of those who have paid that price.

Right now I have two friends in my thoughts and prayers whose husbands have been deployed. They are sacrificing too. I thank them from the bottom of my heart. I thank them for what they give up so that their husbands can serve this country. I thank my two friends for their act of service in that sacrifice.

As the celebrations wind down. As the last firecracker pops. As we go about our normal routine tomorrow, I hope we won't forget the freedoms we enjoy here and the people who offer their service for our independence.

When Control Freaks Set Up Christmas

If you've been a reader for even just a short time, you might have gathered that I might possibly have some tendencies toward being a little bit controlling sometimes. Christmas brings out the worst of it. Not Christmas as the season or as the celebration of Christ's birth, but the decorating part. And it's not like I haven't taken steps toward rigging set-up day so that it is a little more Control Freak friendly.

Last year we added a third Christmas tree: two are downstairs, one for me and one for the kids, but the downstairs kid one still has to look un-Charlie-Brown-tree-like; one is upstairs, and the kids can do to it whatever their Christmas spirit leads them to do. However, I discovered one fact I overlooked last year: I should have packed all of their stuff on the top of each box. I like to work box by box. Neatly. In an orderly fashion. But because their stuff was not on top, each box was thrown open and rifled through, the contents strewn all over. All in a matter of minutes. Before I could stop it. I may or may not have issued some warnings in a very harsh tone because nothing was being done the right way, i.e., my way. OK, so I did employ a harsh tone. I may have ruined Christmas. Again.

On the upside, I might be improving. A little. I only rearranged two ornaments on the kids' downstairs tree. I also noticed they had ingeniously turned the tip of each branch up in an attempt to prevent each precariously placed ornament from sliding off. I controlled myself and only fixed a couple of those.

So maybe I'm on the road to recovery. But then again, you'd think by now I'd have all the kinks of Christmas set-up day worked out. Maybe next year I won't ruin Christmas.

ABC Tag

TeacherMommy at Diapers and Dragons tagged me with The ABCs of Me. I love to talk about myself, so I figured why not?

A - Available: Depends what "available" means. Am I available for dating and marriage? Certainly not. Well, except for the dating part. I'm certainly available for that...with my dear husband. Are my kids available? Why, yes they are. When would you like to come over? Hubby and I would LOVE to go on a date.

B - Best friend: My soulmate and husband, of course.

C - Cake or pie: Chocolate cake, chocolate pie. Whatever.

D - Drink of choice: Water. I'm so boring.

E - Essential item you use everyday: I wish I could say with honesty that I use my Bible everyday. Unfortunately, that doesn't always happen everyday. I do use my computer on a daily basis, which is a sad commentary on the way I manage my time. And my priorities.

F - Favorite color: Black. My wedding was black. Well, not my dress, people, my bridesmaids' dresses. My mother flipped out when she heard I was going black. "Well," she said, "if someone faints and dies, we can just turn the wedding into a funeral." Afterwards, she agreed that it was the most elegant wedding she'd ever seen.

G - Gummy bears or worms: Definitely the worms. They last longer. You don't just pop 'em into your mouth and they're gone. You can eat them section by section. Much more fun.

H - Hometown: It's the dreaded question any MK faces: "Where are you from?" I've finally reached the "double years" point in my life where I've lived just as long in the US as I did in Africa. That coupled with the fact that I now have my own family, allows me to claim Atlanta, GA, as my hometown. However, I've also lived in Van Nuys, CA (on at least 4 separate occasions); Quebec, Canada; Switzerland; Ferkessedougou, Ivory Coast; Mana, Mali; Bouake, Ivory Coast; Pasadena, CA; Azusa, CA; Birmingham, AL; Athens, GA; Roswell, GA; Norcross, GA; Bethlehem, GA; and now here I am, home sweet home. And hopefully soon to have yet another address.

I - Indulgence: Books, chocolate, and Starbucks' Green Shaken Iced Tea with sweetener. These are the things in which I overindulge.

J - January or February: February, but that's only because there are three birthdays in our family during this month, two of which are hubby's and mine (on the same day!). Otherwise I hate January and February because I loathe the cold, yes, even the Georgia cold.

K - Kids: I've lost count. How many do I have? 4 I think.

L - Life is incomplete without: My husband. Honey, you complete me.

M - Marriage date: 7/2 which, in retrospect was a mistake because now we seldom get to celebrate with all of the other goings-on around that date. We chose that date, however, because we knew we would have MK friends visiting from all over for our wedding, so we chose the holiday weekend. Because we're accommodating like that.

N - Number of siblings: None, and I try desperately to remind my own children how lucky they are to have each other. They're not buyin' it. Yet.

O - Oranges or Apples: Oranges. You know those ones in aisle 5 that come in a blue box. And, if not popped into your mouth, they melt in your hand leaving a gooey, dark, sticky mess that's delicious to lick off? No, really. I'll eat an apple or an orange, though only because I know they're good for me. And quite frankly, I'm so lazy when it comes to eating things that are good for me, that I'd just as soon drink a glass of OJ than peel an orange.

P - Phobias/Fears: Spiders, cockroaches, scorpions. All of which I have found in my house at one time or another. The scorpions really freaked me out. In Africa, the small ones are the most poisonous, so imagine my horror in discovering a tiny scorpion in my children's room when we first moved in. Bug guy told me, though, that these Georgia scorpions are no worse than bees. Hubby can actually testify to that as he was stung by one. I still hate them, though.

Q - Favorite Quote: "I love you" said by any member of my family.

R - Reason to smile: "I love you" said by any member of my family.

S - Season: Summer. Did I mention I loathe cold weather?

T - Tag: I think I'll tag Mare again at Mare's Musings. The last time I tagged her, her rantings thoughts seemed to be somehow therapeutic for her.

U - Unknown fact about myself: Haven't I been rather forthright on this blog? I honestly can't think of anything that would be an unknown and interesting fact (not that everything I've posted is interesting).

V - Vegetable you don’t like: Tomatoes (raw), celery, turnips, avocado, brussel sprouts...Did I mention I don't eat healthy food because I necessarily like it?

Worst habit: Like I'd confess that here! Of the type I'll actually ADMIT to, Procrastination. It gets me in a world of trouble. (OK, and stealing because I stole this answer from TeacherMommy.)

X - X-rays: X-rays? Whatever. May as well have used xylophones.

Y - Your favorite food: Chocolate.

Z - Zodiac: Chocolate. (Just because I think the whole zodiac thingy is rubbish.)

Butter and Tennis Elbow

I'm not a big fan of this growing old stuff. It didn't used to bother me. In fact, I used to scoff at the 30, 40, and 50 somethings who would bemoan another year's passing. I scoffed because I was immune. I could eat whatever I wanted. And when I say whatever I wanted, I mean it. I could eat Snickers for breakfast, pizza and brownies for lunch, and cake chased by a milk shake for dinner. Wouldn't gain a pound. Now I no longer roll my eyes when a friend says she gains weight just by looking at a Crunch Bar; now I understand.

Then of course there's the hair. Because I'm half-Asian, I always assumed my heritage would make me at least half-immune to the grays. I mean, how many young to middle-aged Asian women do you see sporting a head full of white hair? Not many. But I've got them. Got my first one after my first was born. Then one for each baby after that. After the baby of the babies was born, well, the gray began to conspire against me. I try to keep after them with the tweezers. I really don't want to start the cycle of coloring my hair. I know. I'm vain.

Vanity is one thing. Then there are the small painful annoyances like backaches. Or tennis elbow. I first began to experience tennis elbow a few months ago. It was an easy, self-prescribed fix: become temporarily left-handed, however clumsy that made me. It worked. The pain went away. Until the other day.

The project from the Prairie Primer was some good ol' fashioned butter churnin' minus the churn and the fresh-from-the-cow cream, of course. We've done this project before only each of the children had their own personal baby jar filled with cream. Much easier and quicker to shake into butter consistency. But no more baby food jars in this household, so I had the bright idea of making one large tupperware of butter and having the kids take turns.

They were all highly enthusiastic about a first turn at the shaking. Their enthusiasm faded somewhat after each turn when they realized how difficult this task was. I therefore assumed most of the shaking. I saw Jacob eye the extraordinarily large value sized block of butter from Sam's Club that was sitting on the counter. Finally, he couldn't take it any longer. "Mommy, there's butter right there," he offered.

"I...know..." I said, breathlessly as I continued to shake the stubborn cream, "...but...I want...us to do...this...just like...Laura and Mary." Yeah, kids. You're not going to fool me into using modern conveniences. You're going to make butter this way so you can learn how difficult life was for them. So you can understand how easy we have it.

I'm not sure any lessons were learned except that I'm getting old. Because all of that butter making brought all of the pain back to my elbow. Like I said, I'm not a big fan of this getting old stuff. Not a huge fan of our homemade butter either.

Pajama Day

Today has been a pajama day. Not intentionally. It's just one of those days. For all of us but the Princess. She insisted I get clothes out for her, and she was NOT happy with my selection. We had a little squabble over the shorts set I put her in, but as I explained to her, her strong stylistic preferences were not clear at the beginning of the summer and I just didn't purchase enough dresses for the girl to wear one everyday. It is summer after all. Shorts are acceptable.

It's been a strange summer. Usually we fill our summer to the brim with plans and activities, but we don't even have a family vacation planned until the end of August. I won't say it's been a boring summer, just a very lazy one...which makes it difficult to be motivated to do anything. Today, for example, being that it's Pajama Day and all, we could have eaten chocolate chip pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse or something for lunch (you know, just to be creative and keep with the theme), but instead I let the kids talk me into watching "Tom and Jerry" over chicken and biscuits. Not that I'm complaining--I'm just happy they enjoy the good cartoons!

But I've been motivated to do little else today. In fact, I just realized Monday is laundry day, and all the dirty clothes are still in the hampers. (Really, can one successfully combine Pajama Day with Laundry Day? I don't think so.) Although Pajama Day has its merits, I'm hoping tomorrow we all wake up with a little more enthusiasm (and I'm mainly lecturing myself here). Because, just as the Princess has a limited supply of fancy dresses, the rest of us have only so many sets of PJs!

Set in Her Ways...

Let me start with some of the blessings from our first day of travel:

1. A safe journey.

2. The joy of watching the children's excited faces as they opened early Christmas presents (and birthday gifts for Alex), presents we knew they would enjoy having on the trip: electronic games, card games, Polly Pockets for the Princess.

3. Plans with my friend from teaching...and a possible shuttle launch scheduled for Thursday! She can see the launchpad from her home in Titusville, so we'll watch from there. As I was making plans with her on the phone last night, I jokingly thanked her for working with NASA to arrange this for us since we've never had the expectation of being down here at the right time to witness such an amazing event. Now we're just praying that the weather holds true and that all of the shuttle parts are in place so there will be no reason to cancel.

OK enough of all that happy stuff...Let me just say that I've come to the dismaying conclusion that I'm an old lady very set in her ways! It's not a realization of which I'm proud, but allow me to whine a little here:

1. I'm very impatient with long car trips. Though our trip yesterday was uneventful, every so often there was a chorus of 4 voices: "Are we there yet?" followed by a sweet, little echo: "Dere yet?" I'm quite sure we drove our chauffeur mad.

2. Now the bed: it's terrible. I brought my own pillow, but I need my Select Comfort bed. (Maybe I should ask dh to start staying in Radisson hotels instead of Marriott!)

3. The room: too quiet for sleeping. At home, I always have a fan going for noise. So I improvised and turned on both bathroom fans and let them run all night.

4. I got hardly a wink of sleep, although the bed and the pervading quiet were not completely to blame. In fact, I can blame most of my sleeplessness on the kids. My children's coughs only come out at night...and two of them had horrible coughs last night. They were troopers, however, and didn't complain; in fact, I think they slept through their coughing fits. Not I, however. Not in a too silent room on an uncomfortable bed. I think it was around 4:00 this morning I lay in bed literally PLEADING with God to make Audrey and Michael stop coughing. God is awesome and answered; however, I forgot about His sense of humor. I had just fallen asleep when Michael's coughing started again. God, You're killin' me, I thought and went into the kids' room to see if I could offer Michael a drink of water. It wasn't Michael, however. Very funny, God--I forgot to pray that Jacob wouldn't be afflicted. I said a quick prayer for Jacob and finally drifted off to sleep. Maybe they'll be all coughed out by tonight.

5. And this is not so much me whining as me ascending my soap box for a little preaching. We enjoyed a nice dinner at Tony Roma's last night, but prior to our entering the establishment, my youngest reader very competently (and loudly) read the sign on the neighboring store: Bad A** Coffee Shop. The sign has a little donkey on it. Honestly, if I didn't have my kids with me, I would actually find this mildly humorous (although I fail to see the correlation between donkeys and coffee), but really, do they have to set up shop right next to a family restaurant on the busiest tourist street in Orlando? Of course, that's my answer right there...it's the busiest tourist street in Orlando, so I get the marketing strategy. Anyway, we did have a thorough and good conversation with the children about the meaning of the word in Biblical times (thus the donkey) versus the derogatory meaning today. Hopefully, we made our point clear enough. If not, let's fast forward to Christmas dinner and imagine us sitting down to dinner with the grandparents and one of the kids recounting how we went to the Bad A** Coffee Shop. Let's just hope we got our point across!

So there was a day once upon a time when my life was more footloose and fancy free where I enjoyed adventures and leaving home to stay in some strange place. Now I think I've just gotten old. It's sad. I need to "relax" as my dear husband so aptly instructed me last night after every heavy sigh I heaved following every cough that emanated from the kids' room. I need to reach down inside me and retrieve that easy-going, fun, adventurous, spontaneous, young woman I once was. (Well, we may just have to agree to willingly leave the "young" behind!) Seriously, though, I have these 4 wonderful, amazing children who deserve some adventure and excitement...even if it does mean I miss a night of sleep here and there.

Katy Who?

I've started watching a new sit-com entitled Samantha Who?. In it, Sam, played by Cristina Applegate, awakens from a coma. She is subsequently diagnosed with amnesia and thus begins her quest to discover who she was and now is. As she attempts to go back to her old life as described by the few who knew her and liked her, she realizes what a selfish and immoral person she was. She doesn't like that old person at all: she was rude and self-seeking, hadn't talked to her mother in 2 years, had only one true friend, and was cheating on her boyfriend. Now she wants to change for the better but is trapped by a high-pressure job which she must keep in order to pay off the huge pile of debt she accumulated buying shoes and other material items which matter little to her now.

Although I'm a fan of Cristina Applegate and what's-his-name from 7th Heaven and What About Brian (he plays Sam's boyfriend), admittedly, the acting is pretty bad on this show--lots of corny one-liners. So I'm guessing this comedy will not live a very long life; however, it got me thinking: How would I react if I woke up from a coma with no memory? What if, at the moment of my awakening, my loving husband walked into the hospital room with my beautiful, adorable, amazing children and took me home to a house I can't believe is mine where my extended family and a bunch of caring friends were waiting to greet me. And what if he told me these people and things were all a part of my life? Yet I was seeing all of this for the first time. What changes would I make?

I think the first change I would probably make is that I would spend more quality time with my kids getting to really know them. Yes, I'm ALWAYS here with the kids, for the kids, but I don't spend nearly enough intentional time with them. I think in general such an experience would certainly force me to stop taking all of the many, many blessings I have for granted.

How about you? If you had the opportunity to view yourself from the outside looking in, what changes would you make?