The Ugly and The Beautiful

The view of my kitchen sink

Last night was kinda ugly. Ugly in my spirit. 

It had been a truly refreshing day, being away from our house for hours. Away from the never-ending tasks that await in your own home. 

Then we returned and settled in again.

Within the hour, there was absolute chaos in the house. So much noise, so much busyness.

While I stood at the counter and over the stove preparing our meal, Zachary "cooked" next to me in his own white bowl. Adding salt, pepper, M&Ms, bread crumbs, and sprinkles to a portion of water and stirring. With great pride and extra tall posture, my son walked his dish to the dining room table, to set out for dinner. Then I heard a thud and "uh-oh." As I hurried to him, my eyes fell on the sight before me; all his ingredients splashed upon the carpet and a cloth-cushioned dining room chair. Bring on the towels, the cleaning supplies, the vacuum.

The baby starts crying.

Another son needs to be changed.

The vacuum starts up.

Dinner is still needing prepared.

The mail is on the counter.

The dryer buzzes.

Someone wants juice in a water bottle.

Stir some baby cereal and sweet potatoes at the high chair.

Forgot I had a voicemail from my father-in-law.

My eldest son decided to make another "dish" for our dinner. Only by the time I get back in the kitchen, a utensil drawer was opened under the counter where he worked, and Zachary's newest food creation dripped down into that drawer and onto spatulas and graters and whisks. This time it was bread crumb-water. Seeping into the corners of the drawer.

My jaw is clenched. My brow is furrowed. Trying so hard to keep my words within and not express my absolute impatience and frazzled inner processing. No one to witness this whirlwind. How I wish there had been someone. Just to share "a look." Receive a reassuring smile, pat on the back that soon I could breathe again.

After dinner we clean up.

A son still slouching at the dinner table, refusing to obey.

A baby requiring care.

The aquarium needs cleaned.

A son desiring to help wipe the glass of the tank. Aquarium wetness spreads onto the carpet. His concentrated look shows he is doing his best. But my jaw clenches so tightly, and my spirit continues growing in its ugliness. 

After the baby is contented once more, I begin my task of scrubbing the aquarium rocks and plants, as Nate completes the other tank cleaning work. I turn on some of "my music" to work to, to try to settle my muddled, weary self when I hear noisy bursts from another room. 

Noises of bickering brothers. 

Figuring out their positions in this world. 

Learning how to negotiate, to compromise, to be generous, to bless another. 

(At times like these, the learning is going so very slow.) 

Intervention time for this momma to care for those brothers. Leaving the kitchen and my scrubbing. Reminding my sons how to show love. Returning to my scrubbing. So tense, so tired from the never-ending...

Needs to be met. More scrubbing. Tight jaw.

I try so hard to do all this on my own. 

To prove something? To whom?

Is there a "Good Momma Meter"? Doesn't it seem like it?

(Good spouse, Good worker, Good citizen, on and on.)

Sigh. I just want someone to notice. This continuing striving and struggling to hold together a "house perfect" and a house of peace. I wish I didn't hold these desires so tightly every moment, but they are the deep longings of my heart. To seem to have it together... to prove something? (Once again, that theme.) Prove success... That I am wise? Capable? To be mimicked? 

To what end?

Then I received in that moment a gift beyond my expectation.

I sensed someone approaching me as I stood at the kitchen sink, frizzy ponytail and water running full blast. I felt strong arms encircle my shoulders and remain. My husband. Giving life to this weary heart. Those words. Overflowed with love.

"We are in this together. We are a team. Don't forget that." 

I wish I could say the evening smoothed itself out after those moments over the kitchen sink. (The one teaming over with dishes drying in the rack. Those utensils that had needed to be washed clean after the bread crumb recipe dripped in their drawer. And the sink filled with fish rocks, plants, aquarium ship.) The life of this young family of 5 carried on its crazed summer nighttime routine, a bit crazier that usual. 

But. 

I was reminded of the love around me. 

From Nate. 

From my God. Who somehow cares about these overwhelming minutes in my life, in addition to all those millions of other lives being lived on this globe. Yet it is true that HE SEES ME. And He SEES all the moments. Ugly and Beautiful. I am not alone, on this journey of striving. And I can strive toward Him, instead of toward that same self-dependence that always fails.

Here are some encouraging words I read this past week:

"There is something about being seen, really seen, that changes everything, because it changes the way we see ourselves- just knowing we are seen by God makes all the difference...

We feel forgotten, or worthless, or like failures. We're sure we don't measure up, that we're not enough for God or anyone else...

Because the more you come to see yourself through God's eyes, the closer you'll move toward becoming who you were really meant to be...

"He offers the gifts of forgiveness and redemption. And He never, ever gives up on you... He doesn't just focus on what you do wrong. He notices AND CELEBRATES what you do right."

-Tammy Maltby, "The God Who Sees You" (taken from an EXCELLENT article in "Power for Living")

May you feel deep in your soul today that you are BEING SEEN and you are LOVED.

Isaiah 49:16 "Look, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands."

Blessings to you!

Elizabeth

A New View

A New View

Last night, we decided to rearrange our bedroom layout. For no special reason; just for a change. As I was moving furniture pieces around and cleaning dusty corners that had been long unseen, an inner dialogue stirred within me. 

You see, the last time we had our room arranged this way, some 5 years ago, I carried some difficult memories... Memories of moments struggling daily with what could be considered post-partum depression (on top of my history of struggling with depression; a thorn). These pre-and-post-pregnancy days carried lingering feelings of despair and lost purpose, even in the midst of holding such a beautifully created baby boy in my arms, his bassinet placed next to our bed. Even while savoring the joy of this new life, I fought dark moments where it felt hard to breathe, hard to get out of bed in the morning. When my thoughts were my worst enemy. Through weeks/months of inner struggle, I eventually found sources of relief. Roots of my faith, vulnerability and love in close relationships, effective medicine, and a new outlook.

These memories of desperation and fog leave a never-to-be-forgotten imprint on my spirit, my mind, my heart. 

So last night, I had the initial clutch in my gut when I envisioned something as simple as a change in the position of furniture in our bedroom... I remembered those quiet mornings of laying in bed, holding my precious baby, and staring into space while I wondered how I would be able to face the new day. Lots of gazing out the bedroom window, thinking myself into a dull state of hopelessness. I remember days of wintertime, with pristine snow covering clusters of berries on the large tree outside the west window. It was so lovely to look at, yet I felt frozen in such moments. 

I have held onto a strong faith in Christ, and it was (and is) discouraging to think that even with His promises of peace and satisfaction, that I could still struggle with such a depressed outlook.

What has changed? 

Just a couple little-big things that come to mind:

• 4 books. (Keep on reading!)
• Being honest in my relationships with those who understand my struggle and are faithful in their support and encouragement. 
• Leaning heavily on my Jesus. And my husband.
• Taking life 2 days at a time: living in today and briefly glancing into tomorrow. (Nothing beyond, unless it is clearly accompanied with a filter of trusting God's plan for all future cares.)

Through the months and years since, there have been tremendous blessings that have strengthened me so. I want to share these 4 book titles and authors with you, since they have truly brought fresh perspective to my life- and they may do the same for your life. How very thankful I am for these individuals that have impacted this stranger's life. (Bear with me as I have a mini-bookclub moment here...)

First, this book has both softened and strengthened me as I read through this for an entire year, one entry at a time: "Jesus Calling" by Sarah Young. Reading promises of Jesus' presence taught and filled me with immense inner joy and peace regardless of daily/life circumstances.

Next I read a book that has changed me more than any other
(not including the Bible- nothing can ever compare): "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. How can words describe how much this treasure entered into my life and gradually and completely changing my way of thinking and seeing this world... with GRATITUDE for every. thing. For the littlest things. Explore this concept out for yourself; just see how your perspective on gifts and your daily life is transformed, bit by bit. This has touched my soul, and helped me walk through the lifelong journey even beyond fighting depression into savoring bits of each day. Recognizing how gratitude in my being helped the "forced optimist" that I am to be more firmly established in this perspective. That the "every day" of life around us is the miracle.

This "children's story" is precious to my family: "Sidney and Norman" by Phil Vischer.

I can barely get through reading this book aloud without tearing up or getting a catch in my voice. This taught me much in very few words, about how God views us, imperfections and hard-to-get-out-of-bed-days and all. 

I only have one chapter left in this final book on my list of life-changing books here. "Grace for the Good Girl: Letting Go of the Try-Hard Life" by Emily P. Freeman. The honesty and ability to relate to old truths written in fresh ways has challenged and inspired me. That when I admit my weaknesses ("masks" I hide behind and self-dependence), I am actually in the best place to be- relying on the GRACE of the One who has already accepted me. Grace. Not shame, guilt, performance, perfectionism, fear. But sweet grace and hope.

So, as I write these words and picture my upstairs bedroom in my mind, that room will continue to hold memories of past struggles, YET also the current perspective I've been adopting:

• Remembering the reality of Jesus' promises. 
• Gratitude. (All. Day. Long.)
• Learning and re-learning the way Jesus views me.
• Growing to recognize "masks" I put on and realizing a better way to live, with my identity and satisfaction in Christ. Alone.

It has been amazing. This current sweetest of contentment with my youngest babe. Each child of mine has grown my capacity to feel blissfully content and indescribably purpose-filled and driven. Yet...

Sometimes I look back on Zachary's youngest weeks, and I feel pained that his early days were so bittersweet; filled with joy unspeakable, yet also glimpses of despair trying to crowd in and take over. 

I am coming to recognize the contrast of letting myself be swept away with anxious thoughts and slippery depression OR the most delicate and priceless all-consuming satisfaction that continues to grow with the lessons I am learning. I am so very far from where I long to be. But each second I can step back and breathe deeply, I am renewed. HOPE.

"The freedom to be found in letting peace rule." 

(Emily Freeman)

"As much as I'd prefer the lovely, beauty from ashes tells a more compelling story."

(Emily Freeman)

Beauty from Ashes.

May my humble words encourage your spirit.

Blessings,

Elizabeth