Busily Bored

I was kind of bored yesterday.  Oh I have plenty to do.  I have a house that is dirty and disorganized.  I have loads and loads of laundry to do.  I need to cook.  There are a bazillion books I would like to read.  I have school work stuff to work on with the kids.  But yet I’m bored.

Yesterday should not have been boring.  I got the kids off to school, cleaned up breakfast, logged four miles on the treadmill, went to visit an elderly friend, made basketball cupcakes for a team party, went to party, swam, ate  and came home to do bedtime.

Today I did laundry, ran on the treadmill, went to Annie’s swimming party and had lunch with her class, went on a family walk, had the neighbors over to play and sent half the family off to their various activities. 

Every day is full and busy. In fact, every week seems to spin out of control.  I keep thinking next week I’ll …  I have more on my plate and more demands on my time that I can possibly meet but still today I’m bored.

All of the things I have to do are task-oriented, busy work that takes no mental stamina.  Laundry, unload dishwasher, reload dishwasher, fold clothes, put clothes away, clean toilets, make beds, make supper, give baths and fall into bed exhausted before doing it all again the next day.

There are new challenges coming at me in motherhood.  I’m trying hard to be engaged with the kids.  That part is not boring.  There is nothing I want to do better than mother.   But it’s hard to have enough energy for the important stuff when the boring stuff is slowly suffocating me.  I might feel a little guilty about feeling that.  Or a lot guilty.

Do you know what I mean?   I’m so so glad God has blessed me with my husband and kids.  It’s amazing.  There is nothing I’d rather be doing than be here for and with them.  I’m thankful for a great church body and great friends and family.

But what about the mundane stuff that goes along with it all.  How do I reconcile that?  I’ve blogged a lot (ad nauseum?) about God’s calling.  God has called me to motherhood and that takes a servant’s heart.  I get that.

I don’t even think that having a job outside of the house would cure my boredom.  That would just give me another list of tasks that I must accomplish. 

No, I think the problem is deeper.  Certainly these mundane, boring tasks are part of every day life.  There’s no escaping that.  It maybe that what I need to endure in this life includes those things.  Maybe it is a type of suffering.  A place where I can trust God more.  Become more humble and so on and so forth.

But that isn’t all either.  I couldn’t put my finger on it yesterday, but I think today I got a glimpse.  We were created for eternity.  Forever.  When God created Adam and Eve in the Garden they were meant to go on and on until forever. 

What do workers gain from their toil?  I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.  Ecclesiastes 3:9-11

But sin came in and changed everything.  The longing, the unmet needs, the frustration and boredom might be part of our deepest longing:  to be at home with Jesus in Heaven.  He put eternity in our hearts.  But we cannot understand what God has done.  We are still on this side of eternity.

We can find happiness and encouragement and joy in our efforts to some degree.  But ultimately, we only find it in Jesus.  And being reunited with Him forever. 

But this week I seemed to forget that I have Him now too.  He is with us.  We are not lost or forgotten here in the work He has given us to do. 

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.  Romans 8:38-39

Of course, I can find joy in serving my family in the mundane.  I can take on challenges to keep growing.  Mostly, though, I want to take these feelings of frustration, sorrow, boredom and look to Jesus.  I can serve faithfully now.  And yearn for Him and eternity.

It’s what we were made for.

Blind Spot

Dear Abby,

Today is your ninth birthday. Lately I’ve wondered if I have a blind spot when it comes to my kids. Especially you, my “middle child”

I’ve been reminded that is a tough place to be. Mostly by you.

The middle child was a surprise. Jenna was 9 months old when we found out we were pregnant with you. Grant was still in diapers. It seemed a little overwhelming to think of adding another baby to our family.

But your birth saved me in some ways. Mike and I were in a much better spot when you were born. Things were difficult when we had Jenna and everything was new and scary with Grant. So even though it was busy and crazy with three kids under three, building a house and the rest of life you were a breath of fresh air. We enjoyed you to the fullest. I loved being up in the middle of the night feeding you. I realized that I loved being a mother.

You were almost born in our old pick up truck. We couldn’t get to the hospital fast enough. And when you literally flew into our lives, it was bliss.

For real. Another beautiful daughter. But you actually liked wearing the pink dresses I put on you. You nursed easily. We bonded right away. The nurses kept saying what a beautiful baby you were. I thought they probably say that about everyone. Until I saw you. Then I knew they were telling the truth.

Even though you never took a bottle, sometimes you even let Daddy feed you.

As you grow older sometimes you might feel trapped between Grant the only boy, Jenna the athlete and go-getter and the little girls. Maybe sometimes you feel squeezed.

So I’ve wondered if I have a blind spot? But guess what?

You will never, ever be in my blind spot. Just exactly your spot. The spot God intended for you to be. Right smack dab in the middle of the blessing of kids we have. That’s your place. The world wouldn’t be right without you there.

He made you with gifts and talents that are very different from your sister. Maybe some of them are not as noticeable to people at the age you are. Already 9.

But I see them. Those things are never in my blind spot. You are nurturing and fun-loving. You are helpful and kind. You have an easy way of helping kids and working around the house with me. You are a little shy but I don’t mind. I kind of like that you don’t want to spend the night away from us.

Last summer we helped one of the older ladies from our church with her garage sale. You stayed and helped with Dad all day. And came home with some lovely knick knacks.

Be assured that you, my middle child, will never be off my radar. You are in exactly the right place. The bright and sunny gift that God gave us in a snowy march. A wonderful surprise. And we wouldn’t want it any other way.

Maybe I don’t always show you in the busyness of the weeks how incredibly special you are to us. That you will be in the light of my heart. In the spotlight. And I have enough spotlights for everyone. But sometimes when I look at a a group, my eyes naturally move right to the middle.

And you will never, ever be in my blind spot.

Happy Birthday!

I’m Not The Dog Person In This Family

My husband and kids love dogs.  I’m not the dog person.  I never had a dog or even a pet growing up. 

When we got our puppies I told the vet, “My husband is the dog person.”  However, my husband has never taken the dogs to the vet.  We are now close, personal friends.

I told everyone that they would have to pitch in and help with the dogs.  They all want puppies but I am the one at home feeding, training and taking care of the puppies.  And I am not the dog person in this family.

I’m also not that big of a fan of playing outside.  I do it for my kids because they love it, but not for the dogs.  Because I am not the dog person in this family.

I used to play tennis.  But this isn’t what I had in mind.  I don’t really like being cold.  And I don’t have a good arm.  And I am not the dog person in this family.

 

 

Yeah she missed the memo. 

I am not…

the dog person…

in this family.

(Apparently I had a smudge on my camera.  I am also not the photography expert in this family.)

Just Two Miles

I’m sitting on the couch watching “Turner and Hooch” with Jenna.  She’s eating a popsicle and recovering from her tonsillectomy this morning.  She is certainly her mother’s daughter.  Having her throat cut open and stitched shut has not stopped her from talking a blue streak!

I have to apologize because here begins the “how running applies to life” posts.  I’ll try to hold them to a minimum but I can make no guarantees. 

Life is overwhelming.  At times it can feel impossible to go on.  Just this weekend I talked to many people who were overwhelmed with situations in their lives.  Almost to the point of despair.  I’ve been there.  I’ve been overwhelmed by life stuff that had serious implications.  And I’ve been overwhelmed by joyful stuff too.

When I was pregnant for the first time, I remember having moments of panic thinking about all it would take to raise a child.  Thousands of dollars.  Wisdom, time patience.  Should we send the baby to preschool?  How are we going to pay for college?  How are we going to handle teenage rebellion?

And when I was pregnant the second time, I remember having moments of panic.  How was I going to take care of two kids?  How would we afford it?  What if they hate each other? 

And when I was pregnant the third time, I remember having moments of panic when I wasn’t busy chasing around a 2 year old and 10 month old and was awake enough to put together a coherent thought.  How was I going to handle three?  We were going to be totally outnumbered! 

The moments of panic keep coming.  Stuff comes at us in  life that is so overwhelming it feels like there is no way we’ll be able to get through it.  Lost jobs, lost children, being forced to give up children, financial ruin and lives rocked by divorce are beyond overwhelming.  A colicky baby or strong willed two year old can be enough to put you over the edge.  So what to do?

I recently had another moment of panic when I got into the half marathon.  I cannot run thirteen miles.  No way.  But I printed out the training log, and guess what I had to do on day one?  Run two miles.  Two measly miles.

And guess what I had to do on day two?  Run two miles.  It said it didn’t even matter if you couldn’t run the whole way… just keep moving.  And a light clicked on in my heart.  I can’t worry about things months and years in the future.  I can only do what God has put in front of me today. 

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.  Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Matthew 6:33-34

In those moments of panic and when you feel overwhelmed, just run two miles.  Love Jesus.  Take care of the baby.  Feed the baby.  Love the baby.  Pray for wisdom.  Pray for patience.  Every day you will get stronger and add more miles.  Pretty soon you’ll be able to go the distance.  You’ll cross the finish line. 

Just run two miles.  Speaking of which, the treadmill is calling my name!

I Didn’t Want to Win the Lottery

I have a running partner that is ten years younger and ten times more motivated than I am.  She makes me do things I don’t want to do.  Like running a 5K on thanksgiving morning, running at 6 a.m., or running at all for that matter.

But running is good for me. It’s good for my body and my attitude so I press on.  Begrudgingly.  I even bought a treadmill.  I love the idea of having a treadmill.  I love how the treadmill looks in my basement next to the exercise ball I never use.  I love my new running pants.   I love talking about “hitting the treadmill”.  I just don’t love running on it.  I would rather stay in bed or watch T.V.  while eating a gallon of ice cream.  With hot fudge.  And M & M’s.

This year she suggested we sign up for a half marathon.  In case you don’t know that’s 13 miles.  By foot.  Which is totally crazy.  This half marathon is so popular you enter a lottery.  Yes, you must hope for a chance to torture yourself and pay an entry fee. 

I entered and hoped I wouldn’t get chosen.  My husband rolled his eyes.  Why would I enter a lottery I hoped not to win?  Because if I wussed out and didn’t even enter I’d be a quitter.  But if I entered and by some act of a merciful God didn’t get chosen?  That’s the best of both worlds.

Plus, they don’t charge your credit card until you get chosen.  So when I didn’t win, I was going to take that money and buy a fabulous pair of boots.  Really fabulous.  And maybe a pair of black skinny jeans exercise pants.

 

(Google images)

I jest, I jest.  I’m far too practical for that.  But this?  Oh yeah.

 

(Google images)

I got a fateful text last night.  And checked my emails to confirm my fears.  I won the lottery.  Rats.

Good-bye boots.  Good-bye ice cream. 

Hello treadmill.  Hello torture.

If you’re looking for me I’ll probably be hanging in the medical tent.  Deliriously crying about my boots and the stinking lottery that I had the misfortune of winning.