There is No Coma in "Community"

I think in the summer I'm just going to pitch a tent in the back yard.  One that comes with a window unit A/C of course.  And a secret pocket for my chocolate stash.  It'll have to be a cold secret pocket so my chocolate doesn't melt.  And I'll need a back yard.  Our little patch of grass in front of the parking lot is slowly being washed away by all this rain!  And dog pee but that's another maddening story. 

Being outdoors isn't the only reason I haven't written though.  I've been trying to think of a way to tell this part of my story without making myself look bad.  I just don't think it's possible if I plan on being honest.  The other reason is because I don't want to put other people down.  Let's see if I can pull this off. 

I guess I'll start in the present and back track.  I feel like I've just woken up.  Or maybe it feels like I've finally showered from a long day of blackberry picking.  Hot, humid, greasy, sweaty, thorn-scratched and just downright miserable.  Trudging.  Through underbrush and bugs and the occasional snake but definitely lost.  The whole time going in circles when the path was two feet to my right but I can't see it because I'm so worried and fearful of all the things that might jump out at me and take me down.  This is how it feels.  Like I've finally found the path, made it home, and showered that whole experience away.

I have been part of my church for about seven years.  Depending on who and when you ask, though, it has been a very small part.  It was much easier when I was single.  Even when I was married before the kids.  But life gets harder and times get tougher and it seems that I curled up into the fetal position, so to speak.  The expression drunk on power is a well worn one but I was drunk on fear.  Fear that I couldn't do it all.  Fear that people would judge us if the heard our story.  Fear of starting to help and getting sucked in and never being able to say no!  Fear of not being that "perfect" cookie-cutter Christian.  Of gettting invited to a small group and being asked to host at our house that could barely hold us!  The sheer amount of effort it took to get the kids out the door, let alone get myself out of bed after putting three kids back to sleep multiple times and not being able to sleep because of worry.  I'll never know how much was just pure laziness and how much was depression.  I closed up shop.  I quit and the most I would do was sit in church, a church that was made for broken people!

I don't think I realized how broken I was.  I mean, it's one thing to sit here and type "Oh wo is me" but you can't live every day like that.  You have to get up, you have to go to work, feed the kids, keep life moving in a forward direction.  And that's what I did most days.  It's just that when I look back now, I was doing it with such a burden.  Now I believe that burdens are lifted at Calvary like the song says.  It's just that as soon as we take that burden off, life has more for us.  It's a continuous thing.  I don't think I'll forever go tip-toeing through the tulips after this realization but it's helping. 

Part of that burden was what I "should" be doing.  The comparison trap.  Seeing everyone else and it looked like they had everything together when we were falling apart.  The comparison trap, the blame game, the people-pleasing.  Good grief!  It was all there and I was playing all three games at once and wondering why I was so miserable and tired!  It blows up until you feel that the whole world is against you, even if you have somehow managed to become convinced that God loves you.  It's crazy, how we can put ourselves in these itty bitty invisible prisons and yet pretend to be so free. 

So the next logical step, of course, was to find a church with magical people who would love me the moment they met me and we would add a little Jesus and-voila!-be instant friends!  And we did find another church and everyone there was really nice and warm and inviting and the music was great and they wanted to reach out to the community and...it was just like my old church.  Which only meant one thing: I was my problem. 

I hate being wrong.  I wanted to kick the wall when that realization kicked in.  And say things kids shouldn't hear.  I frankly wanted to refuse to believe it and even started making pros and cons lists of each church.  Of course I was on the pros list for each church because I clearly wasn't the problem!  I had forgotten what church was.  It's a great place for a cup of coffee.  You can drop off your kids and have an hour to just sit.  You can get spiritual and worship.  You can tithe with the best of them.  You can even serve.  But church is a bunch of people on a journey just trying to follow where God leads and if our paths never cross and we never reach out to each other, we're doing it wrong.  Even if we're doing holy things like shutting ourselves in our prayer closets.  You have to come out at some point.  Even if you have kids.  You can't stay in there and please insanity by children.  I have tried.  It only makes you crazier and then you get caught in Walmart talking to yourself.  I was surrounded by people and maybe had a good conversation with one or two of them once or twice. 

Now I'm not downplaying if your church really does have problems.  If you all have started worshiping weird things like calves, maybe it is your church and you should leave immediately.  The thing that makes me feel so silly is that my church preaches community all the time and I thought I was doing it.  But I was of course lying to myself so that I didn't have to go through the excruciating ordeal of meeting new people.  If it's hard to meet new people, go to a church where they serve wine for communion and you should be fine. 

No church is perfect.  In my brain I had been taught this a long time ago but I'm an idealist.  No one is perfect.  Even if I am right most of the time.  My husband can attest to that.  I'm going to do this community thing if it kills me but my guess is I'll feel more alive than ever.          

2 Chronicles 11:11

I have been distracted by silly things like dragons, important events like Moore, Oklahoma, and my thoughts, which could go either way.  When I decided to undertake this idea of the 11:11 verses of the Bible, it was a whimsical, fun idea; a great way to get back into studying and delving into scripture.  What a chunk I bit off.  Add to it the fact that I still have daily life to contend with and my brain is pulled in just a few different directions at once. 

I'm in 2 Chronicles and the verse simply says "He strengthened their defenses and put commanders in them, with supplies of food, olive oil, and wine."  Well, now I have to find out who, what, when, where, why, and how.  Well, maybe not all of that but anyone that has kids who watch Busytown Mysteries will understand that I had to say that. 

With a little background I know the who is Rehoboam, Solomon's son, and he's the king of Judah.  The kingdom of Israel has spllit into Israel and Judah and Judah, I think, has the short end of the stick.  In chapter 10 we find out that Rehoboam isn't as wise as his fathers and listens to his buddies instead of his father's advisers who have seen a thing or two in their day.  When he becomes king after his father's death, the people come to him to ask him to lighten their load, they have labored long and hard to build Solomon's kingdom.  The elders tell him to be good to the people, but his buddies tell him to make life worse for them, presumably as a show of how "manly" he is.  Nice.  Now the kingdom splits and many of the tribes of Israel refuse to acknowlege him as king. 

Rehoboam knows he's in trouble but makes ready for war anyway.  Then we see in chapter 12 that Shishak, the king of Egypt is out to attack Jerusalem.  He captures all the  cities Rehoboam fortified and it specifically says that it's "because they had been unfaithful to the Lord" (12:2)  He's on his way to attack Jerusalem (where Rehoboam is) when a prophet named Shemaiah tells him that God is doing this because he has turned away from the Lord and led the people astray.  In 12:6 it says that Rehoboam and the leaders humbled themselves and the Lord had mercy on him because of it.  He was spared his life but the Egyptians took the gold, the "treasures of the temple of the Lord and the royal palace".  Basically the opposite of the lottery. 

Here's the deal.  This could go so many ways, so many lessons.  Listen to your elders.  They didn't live that long by being stupid.  If you're king, your buddies will always tell you what you want to hear.  Accountability is having someone call you out on stuff and actually listening to them.  Rehoboam wasn't about that.  He was about pride and showing off how big his pinky was.  Read it!  10:10!  But Rehoboam's pride didn't just cost him.  It cost his people their lives, and all the things his father had built up before him.  Granted they were just things.  At least in the end God was still with him.  The other thing is, it didn't matter how fortified Rehoboam's cities were.  It doesn't matter how tough our act is or how much stuff or excuses we hide behind or whatever it is that we use as a sheild between us and God.  God will get through to us one way or the other.  I guess it depends on whether or not we learn the hard way.  Stubborn and prideful, or willing to listen.  I can tell you more often than not I fit into the stubborn and prideful group.  Maybe that's why I picked that up.  Rehoboam did make some good choices.  He didn't attack Jeroboam(11:4).  He split up his sons (11:23).  He finally repented. 

If you got something out of this, good.  If I bored you to tears, sorry.  If you got something different than me, I'd love to hear it and if you disagree or I screwed up, you can tell me that too.  Just be nice.  I'm not a professional bible scholar and I don't want to screw this up but just sharing.  Maybe the next book will be more fun!

Soap Box Art

So today was a much more eventful day than I had planned.  I had planned on getting the kids out of the house.  We had planned on going to the library since we haven't been in a while.  My oldest was protesting because he wanted to play video games.  Tough luck, bud.  What I didn't realize was that today was story time at our local library!  I used to have a calendar but due to sickness, bad weather, and the fact that mom just plain forgot it existed, we had never made it to more than a couple of parties and no story times (not super mom behavior, shame on me).  Well today, by accident, we finally made it!  And I kinda wish we hadn't. 

The story time was fine.  My oldest had a great time, even though the theme was getting ready for kindergarten.  He repeatedly reminded the librarian, "But I'm not going to kindergarten 'cuz I'm not big enough yet."  They read three stories.  My youngest never really checked in, which is to be expected, but then my three year old started tearing up the foam block mat halfway through.  He sat with me for the rest of the time while my one year old went around to all the different girls she met, bent down right in their faces, and squealed "Hi!" as loud as she could.  I thought it was downright cute but I could tell by the librarian's face that she did not share my sentiment! 

Finally!  Story time was over and we all enjoyed it.  Onto crafts.  I heard "crafts" and my danger antennae shot up.  You see, where I'm from "crafts" is a dirty word.  It may seem extreme but let me explain.  I have taught infants and toddlers and preschool for around ten years.  I have a degree in Chiild and Family Development and we would often go to training seminars.  It's a relatively new school of thought now that I think about it but since this idea was drilled into our heads it's been kind of a no-brainer to me.  The idea is that process-based art is much more beneficial than product-based art projects.  Think about way back when you were in art class.  The teacher would display some glorious creation and we, as fifth and sixth graders and even younger, would have to try our best to duplicate what this grown-up had just made.  I hated hated hated art class.  If there were a class (outside of P.E) that could make me feel like dirt it was art.  It didn't help that my mom, big sister, and little sister were amazing artists in their own right.  I couldn't even draw straight stick people.  Mine all looked like they had the palsy.  Back on subject. 

Product-based art is simply the idea that art is about what is made in the end.  That there is a certain right and wrong way to make things, to use materials.  Color by numbers, stay in the lines, your flowers must be "real" colors, not black or neon.  There is a plan that you must follow and your art must look as close to the plan as possible.  There is limited, if any, room for individual expression, or creativity.   
On the contrary, process-based art lends itself to the belief that we, as individuals, should be allowed to express ourselves through art in any way (safely, of course) that we see fit.  There is no finish line.  No comparison.  Art materials are provided by the teacher at an age appropriate level and the children are set free to create whatever their minds dream up.  It facilitates processing the emotions we feel and yet have no other way to express.  For young children that haven't yet learned to read or write, it provides an outlet for stress relief and a way to deal with emotions they are just getting to know.  My favorite thing as a kid was to zone out while I colored with one color, usually red, just back and forth on the paper until one side of the crayon went flat.  I didn't "make" anything but you can bet that the wheels inside my head were turning a mile a minute in some make believe land far away.  

 Now to today's art project.  It was a simple flower pot.  The flower pot was already made out of the end of an oatmeal box.  There were popsicle sticks.  You only got three.  There was a strip of paper with gardening tools to intricate for even the oldest child to cut out on their own although my oldest did a bang-up job if I do say so myself.  The instructions were to use the small cut out flowers to decorate the pots.  The big ones were to be glued onto the popsicle sticks.  The gardening tool pictures were supposed to be colored and cut out and glued to the pot.  There were strips of paper to be glued inside the pot and the lady showed hers and it was beautiful.  Of course it was.  How much time did she get to spend on it?  And she was an adult.  I tried to hold the flashbacks at bay as my children set to work.  Keep in mind, I know that my youngest isn't old enough to do this but my oldest probably can't accomplish this without my help either.  And that's part of the problem.  They have been presented with an impossible task and the "I can't's" start swirling in their brain. 

Bless my oldest.  He has been raised in a process environment long enough to know he doesn't give a hoot about how it's "supposed" to look.  He sets about putting the small flowers on sticks and gluing things every which way.  My poor three year old.  He likes other people to do things for him.  So this lady sitting beside him starts gluing his flowers together just the way they're supposed to be.  I had to pleasantly put a stop to it.  That's what surprised me the most.  The other parents.  Instead of stepping back and letting their kids make something they could call their own, a lot of them just took over.  I know they probably didn't even realize it but most of the kids were just watching their moms do the craft for them.  It was way above the kids' heads, after all.  My little crew had a hot mess on their hands for a finished product but it was definitely unique and they could say they did it all by themselves!  I actually had one of the ladies leading the group tell me my oldest was doing it wrong and that the little flowers were supposed to go there instead of there.  She was frowning! 

I guess I shouldn't get so frustrated over such a seemingly small thing but art is such a powerful, personal thing and it can be used to build confidence or break it down.  There's enough stuff in the world to break down my kids and I guess I just want them to feel like in a world where they are so small and so much is out of their control, at least they could choose where the flowers go on their darned flower pot! 

We'll probably go back.  They may not be excited to see us but it's language and arts and there are other kids there so we'll practice sitting to listen to stories and go make a huge "mess" at the art table.  And in a perfect world they'll help clean up too!

*edit*  I forgot to post a picture!  Only me!

 

Writer's Block

Well it's been a minute since I've written and it's not for lack of trying.  I made many attempts to post something about Mother's Day but every time I wrote something down I ended up backspacing over all of it.  It was because I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings.  I want to praise my mom for being an awesome role model that I can go to with questions about my kids but I don't want to forget the ones who have lost mothers or came up in a difficult situation.  I want to thank God that my children are finally here!  I've only been a mother for four years and yet it's a lifetime away from my childless years.  But I don't want to forget the women who stuggle to have children or the ones who haven't embarked on that adventure yet.  I spent many single, childless years watching everyone else get a rose on Mother's Day.  I even went to a church where I was the only one who didn't get a flower.  The only woman in the church that didn't have kids.  That hurt!  My pain is nothing in comparison to other women, though.  I know that.  It's all so personal.  This journey we are on.  Whether we have children in our own home to call ours or we spend our energy loving children that will go home with someone else at the end of the day.  Kids are such a gift and I guess however God uses them to change our lives is sometimes up to him.  I'm thankful for every part of my journey.  Of course I can say that now!  I hope you are blessed enough to be able to see the blessing of where you are right now.  Happy belated Mother's Day!

Glitter in My Coffee Part Deux

This week has been speckled with projects and experiments.  The kids have been so busy with art lately that we've just about run out of paint.  I've seen many paint recipes on Pinterest and decided to try out a couple.  They are basically the same with one varied ingredient.  One cup flour, one cup water, food coloring, and either a cup of salt or a cup of dish soap.  Not knowing which one I would like better, I decided to make both.  To make the basic six colors, it's good I made two batches so if you only pick one recipe, double it!  I used dollar squirt bottles from the kitchen section in Wally World and had most of the ingredients on hand.  A tip:  use the tearless kid's shampoo for the soap recipe! 

The colors on the left are salt paint and the ones on the right are soap paint.  I had to add water to the salt paint.  As a result, the kids painted with it more because it flowed easier.  Didn't mess with the soap paint just to see what would happen.  When it was dry, the soap paint actually cracked so I think I'll add water next time.  I liked the salt paint because it actually shimmered like some rocks we have on our patio, which my oldest pointed out so that was cool! 

We also ended up making play dough.  Any old recipe off the web will work.  Here is the one I used: play dough recipe.  If you don't have cream of tartar, alum works just as well.  Same measurement and everything!  Once again, it was a pretty small batch so I'd double it or triple it depending on how much material you want to give your kiddos to work with.  We added almond extract and it gave it a great calming effect!  I also but just a little bit more oil in at the end as I was kneading it.  I did this the last time we made playdough and it did dry out for a long, long time!  It also didn't give my hands that dry, salty feeling I usually get after playing with play dough which is awesome for a texture person like me! 

It's night time now and I wish I had a picture of the wind chime we made!  It was much simpler than the one I found on Pinterest.  I'll have to get pics for you.  It doesn't look anything like the cute thing on Pinterest but it's not a fail!  The kids had so much fun painting the cans and helping me hang it up!  I'll talk more about it another time when I can get a picture. 

My kids are growing.  My 18-mo is starting to throw fits and my four-yo is reminding me to put quarters in the bad word jar.  It doesn't help that he thinks all my substitute words are bad words too.  If our washer or dryer breaks, we could do coin laundry for a month!  And for all intents and purposes my 3-yo is finally potty trained!  One more to go!  We run out of pull-ups this week and hopefully won't have to buy any more.  I don't think it's possible to be a mom and not worry but I'm going to try to worry less.  Hopefully I can lengthen my lifespan! 

In closing I will leave you with one of my 11:11 verses.  This one comes from I Chronicles and is indeed random!
"This is the list of David's mighty men:  Jashobeam, a Hacmonite, was chief of the officers; he raised his spear against three hundred men, whom he killed in one encounter." 
It's the beginning of a list of David's fighting men and all the amazing deeds they did but pretty much talks about how many people they killed, enemies they slayed.  Now, I'm not much for bloodshed.  I still haven't watched all of "Braveheart" because of how many times I have to cover my eyes and I own the DVD and the soundtrack!  There's no way I can watch Game of Thrones either, even though I've read the books.  I'll say this, though; most of my "enemies" aren't people.  Even if they were, it's not like I can pack a longsword in the minivan on our next outing and teach them a lesson.  No, if I really wanted to try to be like one of David's mighty men, I could show my bravery through service, even though it may never be noticed or through prayer that the person I'm praying for may never know about.  How many unkind words or thoughts or actions could I slay by my kind words, thoughts, actions?  And if I'm not slaying negativity, does that mean I'm producing it, letting it thrive by my indifference?  Guh.   

First "Competitive" 5k!

I ran another 5k today!  I feel like getting up early to run these things is almost as exhausting as running them.  It was the One Sole Purpose I talked about in my last post.  I thought when I signed up for this thing that it was going to be fun and sunny.  I think when we started it was around 32 degrees!  It was spitting some sort of frozen stuff at one point.  Now I've run in the cold before.  I actually started running in December.  Don't ask me why.  It wasn't my smartest decision.  Anywho, I've run in the cold but this was ridiculous!  The one thing I was grateful for was that there wasn't very much wind.  And the hills!  If you'll recall, I noticed in the flyer that it said it was a "challenging course".  I have hills in my neighborhood.  At leaast I thought I did.  Turns out they're not hills, more like the opposite of a pothole.  Just a little bump in the road compared to the behemoths on this course.  And you could see them a long ways off.  At one point I just closed my eyes and hoped I didn't run off the road because I didn't want to see what was about to kill me. 

It's only a 5k.  It's really not that bad.  I can see that now but when you're in it and you're lungs are going to explode and the footsteps behind you are most certainly those of the Grim Reaper, finishing makes you feel invincible.  Like you could just walk up to any jerk that teased you in high school and finally deliver that zinger you came up with years later.  And then run like hell and actually outrun them! 

It's all in my head anyway.  It started the night before with me wondering if they would even have the race.  Maybe they'll call it off.  It's obviously too cold to run.  Then I think about all the motivational quotes on Pinterest and I realize I have become part of a group that runs during monsoon season (I bet).  Realizing I'm not going to get out of it, I start to hope that maybe everyone will stay home and I can cross the finish line in a blaze of glory, only to realize I came in third out of three.  That fantasy wasn't very appealing.  So I set my goals.  I will not quit.  I will not walk.  Even if people speed walk past me, I will continue what I call running.  I will not cry.

And so I finished.  I finished with a time of 30:31, 76th overall and 7th in my age group.  I'd love to know how many people were in the race but I achieved all of my goals so that doesn't really matter.  And I did it while I was freezing!  Once again proving myself wrong and marking another "I can't" off my too long list.  

It has been an awesome exhausting day.  A 5k, lunch with my sister, a haircut, a baby shower, and now, I leave you with a verse I wrote to get myself back out there. 

I will run in the rain
I will run in the sun
I will run when running
Doesn't seem that much fun

I will run for my heart
I will run for my fam
I will run the love of
Green eggs and ham

I will run when it hurts
I will run when it heals
I will run just to move
And how great it feels

(This is for today!)
So run if you can
Run if you will
Especially when life
Throws you a wicked hill!