Without going into too many details Thanksgiving and the days surrounding it have been rough around here. My husband and I, along with our 4 year old son and 2 year old daughter traveled to my husband's hometown for Thanksgiving to visit his family. The trip is about 200 miles each way and generally takes us about 3 hours. While there we don't generally sleep well, which makes for tired and cranky kids, as well as tired and cranky parents.
In addition to the normal holiday craziness my husband's brother is currently fighting for his life, about 6 hours from the town where they grew up, so it added an additional strain on my in-laws (on top of adding 2 adults and two toddlers into their small townhouse for several days).
During this time of concern for my brother-in-law, the stress of travelling (and not sleeping) with two little ones and other family dynamics left me at my wit's end last night. I was mad at my husband, mad at my kids, and pretty much just MAD. Before I knew what was happening I reached my breaking point, screamed at my husband, started crying, ran to my room and slammed the door. Did I mention I was MAD!?
It is now about 24 hours after my outburst and I am extremely embarrassed about how I handled the situation. First of all, I had no right to act the way I did. Secondly, my husband is in one of the most difficult periods of his life as he doesn't know if his big brother will pull out of this. I should've been supportive, instead of harsh. My fatigue is no excuse for how I handled the situation.
The more I reflected today, the more I realized how much I'm like my kids. When my kids are tired and cranky they throw fits, yell, scream and cry. When she is mad my 2 year old runs away and slams her bedroom door. My kids get disciplined for this behavior, as it is unacceptable in our house to throw a temper tantrum when you don't get what you want. Isn't that what I did last night? I threw a 34 year old temper tantrum.
As ugly and as it is when my kids do it, I have come to realize it is infinitely more ugly (and embarrassing) when I do it . . .
I guess I have some growing up to do . . .
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Always a Mom
I've heard motherhood described as the biggest club in the world. I have several friends who are missionaries overseas, or are preparing to move overseas, with small children. One of the things my friends who travel internationally with babies and toddlers have remarked about is the fact that, no matter where they are and what language or cultural barriers there may be, the bond of motherhood transcends it all. A mom knows what another mom is feeling when her 3 year old is throwing a tantrum in public, while the baby is also crying. A mom knows what another mom is feeling when her 4 year old runs up to her at the park and gives a big hug saying "I love you, Mommy!"
Recently a family member has been hospitalized and is currently faced with the likelihood at least part of his foot will be amputated by the end of the week. Upon hearing this news the other night one of my first thoughts were of what his mom must be feeling. This is a grown man, in his 40's, and yet my heart ached for his mom. I am a mom. I can't imagine the toes I've kissed so many times, the feet I've placed shoes on, the feet I watched walk for the first time, being surgically removed from my child. My child will always be my child, but it's odd to me to think about the fact that this mother's child will no longer have all of the "parts" she carried and cared for.
My thoughts immediately turned to the mothers of servicemen and women who have lost limbs in battle. Earlier this evening and I was watching the news and they showed a clip of a mom dedicating a Naval Destroyer that was named after her son, Jason Dunham. In the short clip I started crying as I thought about the pain that mom has felt over the past few years, and the void she will feel the rest of her life.
I have friends who have walked through the valley of the shadow of death in having had to bury their own children. It's a pain I can't begin to fathom and an ache I know they feel daily.
A few months ago I wrote this funny look at life as a mom. It was my most commented on blog, to date, because we can all identify with these things in a way that a person without kids doesn't. I also wrote recently about how I am who I am because of the people in my life, and my relationship to them. Nothing in my life has changed me as much as becoming a mom has.
On the rough days I remind myself that other moms have survived having a 2 year old and a 4 year old at the same time, and I will, too. I can sympathize with the woman in Target who has a kid screaming so loud, she thinks they can hear her son in the parking lot because I've been there. I can empathize with the mom whose son is facing life-changing surgery because, while I haven't been there, I have a mother's heart.
I am a proud member of the Mommy Club.
Recently a family member has been hospitalized and is currently faced with the likelihood at least part of his foot will be amputated by the end of the week. Upon hearing this news the other night one of my first thoughts were of what his mom must be feeling. This is a grown man, in his 40's, and yet my heart ached for his mom. I am a mom. I can't imagine the toes I've kissed so many times, the feet I've placed shoes on, the feet I watched walk for the first time, being surgically removed from my child. My child will always be my child, but it's odd to me to think about the fact that this mother's child will no longer have all of the "parts" she carried and cared for.
My thoughts immediately turned to the mothers of servicemen and women who have lost limbs in battle. Earlier this evening and I was watching the news and they showed a clip of a mom dedicating a Naval Destroyer that was named after her son, Jason Dunham. In the short clip I started crying as I thought about the pain that mom has felt over the past few years, and the void she will feel the rest of her life.
I have friends who have walked through the valley of the shadow of death in having had to bury their own children. It's a pain I can't begin to fathom and an ache I know they feel daily.
A few months ago I wrote this funny look at life as a mom. It was my most commented on blog, to date, because we can all identify with these things in a way that a person without kids doesn't. I also wrote recently about how I am who I am because of the people in my life, and my relationship to them. Nothing in my life has changed me as much as becoming a mom has.
On the rough days I remind myself that other moms have survived having a 2 year old and a 4 year old at the same time, and I will, too. I can sympathize with the woman in Target who has a kid screaming so loud, she thinks they can hear her son in the parking lot because I've been there. I can empathize with the mom whose son is facing life-changing surgery because, while I haven't been there, I have a mother's heart.
I am a proud member of the Mommy Club.
Monday, November 8, 2010
The Earth is Filled with His Glory!
The gray sky hung low above us and I was driving through one of my favorite parts of the state on a "kids-free" trip with my husband. After a very long and very hot summer I was savoring the cool fall air, the low lying clouds, and this getaway while Grandma watched the kids for two days. The leaves around us were just starting to change and I was breathing in the beautiful fall day when I heard Chris Tomlin's voice coming out of my stereo proclaiming "The Earth is filled with His glory!"
I couldn't help but agree as we ascended through Oak Creek Canyon, with a colorful canopy of fall surrounding us.
You can see a YouTube clip of Chris Tomlin singing "Holy is The Lord" here
I couldn't help but agree as we ascended through Oak Creek Canyon, with a colorful canopy of fall surrounding us.
You can see a YouTube clip of Chris Tomlin singing "Holy is The Lord" here
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Why I Write
I'll be the first to admit I'm not the greatest at keeping up this blog, but I know deep in my heart, I am a writer. I have always loved books and at times have dreamt about writing fiction, but I've learned over time that, basically, I'm not creative enough to come up with original stories.
I started this blog because friends were asking me to write about different grocery store deals. I've always felt inadequate about that because there are so many other bloggers out there who devote more time and energy to that, and therefore are much more successful.
I've only been writing here when I feel like I have something "worth" sharing (today's post excluded), so that's part of why my posts are few and far between.
I have kept journals most of my life. I don't know exactly how early I started keeping journals, but I distinctly remember keeping one as early as 3rd grade. Some were fancy diaries, others were just spiral notebooks. I've gone through phases where I was more disciplined about writing than others, but I've never been far from a pen and paper. When I was working as a flight attendant I even learned to keep a spiral notebook in my "gadget bag" so I could write when the mood struck. (Before I started carrying my own paper I used to write on the back of blank medical forms because it was the only paper I could find with a blank side on the airplane). Until I started this blog everything I've ever written (with the exception of homework assignments) has been private.
Just after I got married I went back and took a few college classes. One of the classes I took was a Creative Non-fiction class. I absolutely loved it!. It was the first time I could write in class the way I'd always written privately. I gained a passion for writing. The professor had us write a letter to ourselves 5 years down the road. I had forgotten about that letter until this spring when it arrived at my parents' house. One of the things I wrote was that I was going to continue writing, even if my projects never left the computer. That letter arrived just weeks after I started this blog.
Over the weekend I couldn't sleep and was struggling with something. Because of my circumstances there was no place to write and it really bothered me. I didn't have paper or a pen. It was 3am and I was in a hotel room with my husband, so even if I'd had pen and paper I couldn't turn on the lights without disturbing him. In that moment I realized how important writing is to me.
I write because I enjoy it
I write because it helps me pray (my mind tends to wander a lot)
I write because it helps me focus my thoughts
I write to document life's highs and lows
I write when I can't say what I'm thinking or feeling
I write because I can't not write
I started this blog because friends were asking me to write about different grocery store deals. I've always felt inadequate about that because there are so many other bloggers out there who devote more time and energy to that, and therefore are much more successful.
I've only been writing here when I feel like I have something "worth" sharing (today's post excluded), so that's part of why my posts are few and far between.
I have kept journals most of my life. I don't know exactly how early I started keeping journals, but I distinctly remember keeping one as early as 3rd grade. Some were fancy diaries, others were just spiral notebooks. I've gone through phases where I was more disciplined about writing than others, but I've never been far from a pen and paper. When I was working as a flight attendant I even learned to keep a spiral notebook in my "gadget bag" so I could write when the mood struck. (Before I started carrying my own paper I used to write on the back of blank medical forms because it was the only paper I could find with a blank side on the airplane). Until I started this blog everything I've ever written (with the exception of homework assignments) has been private.
Just after I got married I went back and took a few college classes. One of the classes I took was a Creative Non-fiction class. I absolutely loved it!. It was the first time I could write in class the way I'd always written privately. I gained a passion for writing. The professor had us write a letter to ourselves 5 years down the road. I had forgotten about that letter until this spring when it arrived at my parents' house. One of the things I wrote was that I was going to continue writing, even if my projects never left the computer. That letter arrived just weeks after I started this blog.
Over the weekend I couldn't sleep and was struggling with something. Because of my circumstances there was no place to write and it really bothered me. I didn't have paper or a pen. It was 3am and I was in a hotel room with my husband, so even if I'd had pen and paper I couldn't turn on the lights without disturbing him. In that moment I realized how important writing is to me.
I write because I enjoy it
I write because it helps me pray (my mind tends to wander a lot)
I write because it helps me focus my thoughts
I write to document life's highs and lows
I write when I can't say what I'm thinking or feeling
I write because I can't not write
Friday, October 22, 2010
The power of prayer . . . and facebook
My name is Heidi and I'm a facebook addict . . .
Much has been written about the role of facebook in our world today and this is not another analysis of that. Like most every other facebook user I have enjoyed reconnecting with people I'd lost touch with over the years, but when I signed up I didn't realize the power this social network held . .
As a follower of Jesus, and a person who believes wholeheartedly in the power of prayer, I have come to see how powerful facebook is as a tool for communicating prayer requests. Last June my facebook community was rocked by the sudden death of a young husband and father. As friends grieved, prayed, and shared memories online a friend mentioned, "Some days I feel like I need to quit my job so I have enough time to pray . . ."
Over the past few months I have thought about my friend's statement quite a bit. Through facebook I have found out about deaths, serious illnesses, pregnancies, hospitalizations, newborns, sick parents, etc. This week alone I have been asked to pray for several babies--both born and those who are still in utero. (In the past 5 days, 3 friends have announced their pregnancies, one baby was born at 35 weeks and is still in the NICU and another Mom was still in labor, the last I heard) This week I have also been asked to pray about a young father who died of cancer, leaving a wife and 10 year old daughter.
I am honored to pray for my brothers and sisters as they walk difficult paths. I am grateful that I have a community of 240 friends I can ask to pray when the time is necessary. At times it can seem overwhelming to see this intimately into so many friends' lives, but I love the fact I have the opportunity to join in prayer with friends all over the world . .
I have come to believe prayer is the most important, and powerful, use of facebook.
Much has been written about the role of facebook in our world today and this is not another analysis of that. Like most every other facebook user I have enjoyed reconnecting with people I'd lost touch with over the years, but when I signed up I didn't realize the power this social network held . .
As a follower of Jesus, and a person who believes wholeheartedly in the power of prayer, I have come to see how powerful facebook is as a tool for communicating prayer requests. Last June my facebook community was rocked by the sudden death of a young husband and father. As friends grieved, prayed, and shared memories online a friend mentioned, "Some days I feel like I need to quit my job so I have enough time to pray . . ."
Over the past few months I have thought about my friend's statement quite a bit. Through facebook I have found out about deaths, serious illnesses, pregnancies, hospitalizations, newborns, sick parents, etc. This week alone I have been asked to pray for several babies--both born and those who are still in utero. (In the past 5 days, 3 friends have announced their pregnancies, one baby was born at 35 weeks and is still in the NICU and another Mom was still in labor, the last I heard) This week I have also been asked to pray about a young father who died of cancer, leaving a wife and 10 year old daughter.
I am honored to pray for my brothers and sisters as they walk difficult paths. I am grateful that I have a community of 240 friends I can ask to pray when the time is necessary. At times it can seem overwhelming to see this intimately into so many friends' lives, but I love the fact I have the opportunity to join in prayer with friends all over the world . .
I have come to believe prayer is the most important, and powerful, use of facebook.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
One is Silver and the Other's Gold
When I was in Girl Scouts we closed every meeting by singing "Make new friends, but keep the old . . . one is silver and the other's gold". The older I get, the more thankful I am for the silver and gold in my life.
In 2003 one of my closest friends moved to Wisconsin to get her Master's degree. I got married in March, 2004 and that July I had to say good-bye to my other two close friends the same week, as one moved to Pennsylvania, and the other moved out of the country to go on the missions field. It was a very rough time for me because I felt like I had no friends.
In the coming years I quit my job to be a stay-at-home-mom and had two kids. I had a MOPS group I attended, but still felt very alone because my closest friends lived so far away. I'd see other ladies in the group who had formed a bond with each other, but I didn't have anyone like that. Last December I opened up to a couple of ladies about how I was feeling and they started inviting me to hang out with them. The three of us have sons who are within a few months of each other in age and daughters who are about 18mo apart. This relatively "new" friendship has been a huge blessing in my life.
This past June my closest friend (who had moved to PA) was back "home" visiting for a few weeks and she had the genius idea of inviting a bunch of girls we went to college with over to her rental house for a slumber party. I'm closer to some of the ladies than others, but had an amazing time thinking about the 16+ years we've known each other and the roads we've travelled together. I came home from that night physically tired, but emotionally full. We had met when we were 17 and 18 . . . we all lived in the dorms together. Over the years many of us had been roommates with each other and now we are in our mid-30's, married and with families of our own. Life is quite different at 34 than it is as a college freshman, but our friendship remains.
Last night one of my other close friends, who is the one who had moved to WI, but now lives in Tennessee, and I met for coffee. Because she had to pick up her husband at the airport we had less than 2hrs to spend together, but again, my heart was full after our talk because her friendship is a beautiful gift.
In our day and age it's easy to communicate via e-mail, text, cell phones, facebook, etc, but there is absolutely no subsititue for hanging out and talking to girlfriends face-to-face.
I am incredibly thankful for the gold and silver God has given me . . .
In 2003 one of my closest friends moved to Wisconsin to get her Master's degree. I got married in March, 2004 and that July I had to say good-bye to my other two close friends the same week, as one moved to Pennsylvania, and the other moved out of the country to go on the missions field. It was a very rough time for me because I felt like I had no friends.
In the coming years I quit my job to be a stay-at-home-mom and had two kids. I had a MOPS group I attended, but still felt very alone because my closest friends lived so far away. I'd see other ladies in the group who had formed a bond with each other, but I didn't have anyone like that. Last December I opened up to a couple of ladies about how I was feeling and they started inviting me to hang out with them. The three of us have sons who are within a few months of each other in age and daughters who are about 18mo apart. This relatively "new" friendship has been a huge blessing in my life.
This past June my closest friend (who had moved to PA) was back "home" visiting for a few weeks and she had the genius idea of inviting a bunch of girls we went to college with over to her rental house for a slumber party. I'm closer to some of the ladies than others, but had an amazing time thinking about the 16+ years we've known each other and the roads we've travelled together. I came home from that night physically tired, but emotionally full. We had met when we were 17 and 18 . . . we all lived in the dorms together. Over the years many of us had been roommates with each other and now we are in our mid-30's, married and with families of our own. Life is quite different at 34 than it is as a college freshman, but our friendship remains.
Last night one of my other close friends, who is the one who had moved to WI, but now lives in Tennessee, and I met for coffee. Because she had to pick up her husband at the airport we had less than 2hrs to spend together, but again, my heart was full after our talk because her friendship is a beautiful gift.
In our day and age it's easy to communicate via e-mail, text, cell phones, facebook, etc, but there is absolutely no subsititue for hanging out and talking to girlfriends face-to-face.
I am incredibly thankful for the gold and silver God has given me . . .
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Who I am . . .
As defined by my relationships, I am:
A daughter of Christ
A wife
A mom
A daughter
A sister
A friend
Over 10 years ago I was in college and I was single. I attended a women's retreat with the ladies from my church and was one of only 3 in the room who weren't married with children. The speaker at the retreat asked us to introduce ourselves and to define ourselves apart from our relationships. Since I wasn't a wife or a mom it was relatively easy for me, but knew the other ladies were having a more difficult time. I believe the speaker was trying to get us to think of who we are as individuals and not as our titles and roles define us. Fast forward several years. I am now married and have two kids.
Like many, I was glued to the TV for the past few days watching every possible moment of the miners being rescued from the mine in Chile.
The only time I DIDN'T have the TV on the news was while I was sleeping and during a pre-planned trip to the zoo with my family, so I watched most of the miners emerge from the mine. I watched these men emerge from their underground prison and greet their loved ones with tears running down my face. I saw them embrace their wives, their moms, their children, their lovers and I cried.
After all 33 men and their rescuers were safely above ground I thought about why I was so drawn to this story. Is it because I've been to Chile twice on missions trips and have friends there? Is it because I bought into the media's sensationlism? Is it because I value life and was thankful to see the lengths people are willing to go in order to save lives? It could be, but I don't think that's really why I couldn't take my tear-filled eyes away from the TV for 24 hours . . .
I couldn't turn the TV off because I am a wife, a mom, a daughter, a sister, a friend . . . and I saw myself in the loved ones who were greeting their men after a long ordeal.
Instead of seeking to define myself apart from my relationships, I have come to realize my relationships define me. I would not be who I am if I weren't my husband's wife, my children's mom, my parents' daughter, my sister's sister or a friend of my friends. These titles aren't roles I play . . . the people my titles represent are the silk God has used to weave together the tapestry of me.
A daughter of Christ
A wife
A mom
A daughter
A sister
A friend
Over 10 years ago I was in college and I was single. I attended a women's retreat with the ladies from my church and was one of only 3 in the room who weren't married with children. The speaker at the retreat asked us to introduce ourselves and to define ourselves apart from our relationships. Since I wasn't a wife or a mom it was relatively easy for me, but knew the other ladies were having a more difficult time. I believe the speaker was trying to get us to think of who we are as individuals and not as our titles and roles define us. Fast forward several years. I am now married and have two kids.
Like many, I was glued to the TV for the past few days watching every possible moment of the miners being rescued from the mine in Chile.
The only time I DIDN'T have the TV on the news was while I was sleeping and during a pre-planned trip to the zoo with my family, so I watched most of the miners emerge from the mine. I watched these men emerge from their underground prison and greet their loved ones with tears running down my face. I saw them embrace their wives, their moms, their children, their lovers and I cried.
After all 33 men and their rescuers were safely above ground I thought about why I was so drawn to this story. Is it because I've been to Chile twice on missions trips and have friends there? Is it because I bought into the media's sensationlism? Is it because I value life and was thankful to see the lengths people are willing to go in order to save lives? It could be, but I don't think that's really why I couldn't take my tear-filled eyes away from the TV for 24 hours . . .
I couldn't turn the TV off because I am a wife, a mom, a daughter, a sister, a friend . . . and I saw myself in the loved ones who were greeting their men after a long ordeal.
Instead of seeking to define myself apart from my relationships, I have come to realize my relationships define me. I would not be who I am if I weren't my husband's wife, my children's mom, my parents' daughter, my sister's sister or a friend of my friends. These titles aren't roles I play . . . the people my titles represent are the silk God has used to weave together the tapestry of me.
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