Redefining Accomplishment

Several weeks into the new school year and I already feel like a failure.

As the summer ended the feelings crept in as I hadn’t accomplished what I’d hoped to at the start. My list originally went something like this:

• Sand and paint the kitchen ceiling.
• Sand and paint the master bathroom ceiling.
• Clean and organize the garage.
• Clean and organize the garage storage room.
• Mend every last item that I haven’t mended in the last five years.
• Find a publisher for my completed manuscript, “The Invisible Calling: the Art of Getting Lost and Being Found.”
• Start my new manuscript I’ve laughingly titled, “The Introverts Guide to Surviving Motherhood.”
• Write 10 chapters on my speculative fiction manuscript, “Faith’s Rising.”
• Weed the entirety front flower beds. Weekly. No, bi-weekly.
• Keep the lawn mowed.

Oh, and:

• Continue potty training my three year old son.
• Take the four older kids to daily swim practice for eight weeks. Entertain the toddler during the practices.
• Take the kids and work the weekly 4-5 hour swim meets.
• Feed my five kids three meals a day. 
• And second breakfast. 
• And brunch. 
• And snacks. 
• And just before dinner: I’m-gonna-die-in-the-next-three-minutes-if-you-don’t-feed-me-right-now appetizers.
• Laundry for seven people. Don’t forget the laundry.

I didn't get much of anything done on that first list. Just the second. Only, I don’t know about you, but that second list comes a distant second to the first list in my self-concept of accomplishment. Like my summer wasn’t worth anything because I spent my days keeping five kids alive doing laundry and playing puzzles and pushing my son in the swing and watching my daughters ride their bikes and…

I’ve been watching some of the leaves start their yearly decent into death that yields our glorious fall colors. But I feel like that one tree whose leaves just turn a drab mustard, then brown, then crumble. My death of self that comprises motherhood doesn’t feel dressed in beauty. I feel weak. Maybe other moms managed to get more done.

More and more lately I’ve been realizing I have impossible standards for my own strength. As I mother I tell myself it isn’t good enough to take care of my kids, I need to do it all. And my “all” is rather large. If I don’t get that “all” done, I must be worth less than other moms.

At the end of the day when I’ve done nothing more than what was necessary in my mom-life I can feel hollowed out and empty. Drained and restless.

But maybe there is another way.

Maybe there is a way for my self-sacrifice to be that kind of beautiful I dream of, only, it starts in my own mind and my own perception.

What if in my own mind I called all the little things I do around the house lovely? What if I went to get out food for the kids to make their lunches and I saw powerful hands reaching out to feed the hungry? What if I called beautiful those moments when I found the courage to read that book One. More. Time?

What if I saw my own life as brave? ‘Cause frankly who else but the courageous signs up to parent? If I don’t feel brave and strong in the moment then that’s okay because bravery is different bravado. Courage is found in the acknowledgement of a seemingly insurmountable task and signing up anyway. I seem to feel courage is only found in the absence of weakness.

The beauty of my life needs to start in my mind. Strength to live my day-to-day needs to come with a mental redefinition of strength. God defines Joy as strength, why don’t I? God defines service as strength, why don’t I? God defines loving others as strength, why don’t I define my life by these standards?

It’s past time for me to change my mind. To renew it, and to let it soak in a different standard than the worlds manic race to an unreachable finish line.

My plan for the fall:

Live in the moments I can never get back. 

Take a walk with my son and watch his chubby fingers explore the world. 

Stop at every stick and rock and downed leaf to experience the joy of the now.

Re-evaluate my self-talk. 

Chose to affirm my worth as a God’s daughter.

If I can’t sit with my son at the family room table and write while he plays Legos, bring a clip board. If I can’t write my stories on clip board being interrupted every 20 seconds to admire my son’s creations, then to let go. And build the best darn Lego house for his ninja-storm-trooper-Spiderman thing.

And then maybe at Christmas, when my older kids are on break from school, I will feel like I got something great accomplished this fall. 

Do you have a positive or negative self-talk? How do you define your accomplishments?

Embracing Unexpected Circumstances

Two weeks ago as I sat watching the rain out our front window I saw something unexpected.

Embracing unexpected things is both exhilarating and overwhelming to me. Depending on the circumstances.

My husband had made me a maple syrup latte that Sunday, one of the rare mornings he was home from traveling to Boston for work meetings. I was snuggled up with one of the kids thinking about my love for rainy days and what I might wear to church.

Overnight the weather had turned from our first stretch of really hot weather of the year to a steady downpour. And in the rain, on that Sunday morning, I saw a dog dart across the street into a neighbor’s yard.

It’s not terribly surprising to see a loose dog. I have returned a friend’s dog three times in as many months as she likes to run through the shock fence to roam. This dog didn’t look like any I had seen before.

I was sure my friend next door, a lady who has children near my age, would know to whom the dog belonged. In fact, she actually runs an informal dog sitting business for families in our neighborhood AND is on the board for our neighborhood association every year. The kind of lady who likes to go out to meet the mailwoman and, let’s say, catch up on the news.

In my pajamas I crouched in the rain by our front porch, whistled once and started calling, “Who’s that cute doggy over there? Who’s a great dog?” and other silliness. Until the dog crossed the street to draw nearer.

He was a soaking wet hound mix of some sort. Mostly white with brownish red freckles and muddy feet. And he was clearly starving.

I continued calling softly to him. My husband and youngest son came out with our dog and sat on the steps. The dog had no collar and was whining softly as he crept nearer.

I was worried about what to do with him that day. We still had to finish getting ready and go to church. We have five kids, including our son who is two years old. Animals, and people, who are afraid can be fear biters or fear aggressive. Would our family be safe?

After we got home from church I took a few pictures. Talked to my neighbor. Put out flyers on social media. Watched as my toddler tripped and fell on this starving scared dog, landing hard, and the dog turned his face to my son as my husband and I held our breath. And he licked my sons face.

There was no microchip identification, the vet told us the next day. The animal shelter was so full of strays they were putting dogs down. And I had a hard time imagining any animal living their life in a cage. After several days of my answering lost dog ads there was no one to claim him.

The dog wasn’t house trained. At all. He ate our trash. He ate some of the kid’s toys. He stole food off the counter. And off the kitchen table. And tried to take food off the kid's plates. He barked constantly at a neighbor dog. He knew no commands, not even, "Sit."

And he licked my sons face when he was starving and scared and hurt. Even weak he loved to play with our female dog. He would sit with his head on my knee, eyes half mast, as I pet his head.

Unless I’m winning the lottery, I don’t enjoy change that much. Oh, I like to rearrange my furniture every six months. I’m currently painting the kitchen a lighter shade of grey. But another dog is more work. And I’m tired.

My husband has been traveling a ton these last few months. We’re talking being gone at least 40% of the time. Leaving me to single parent our five kids. Our two year old decided dad being gone was a good reason to stop sleeping through the night. Last week when my husband was gone he woke seven times one night. Seven. S-e-v-e-n!

The change in work schedule changes my schedule. I had finally gotten into a great rhythm for balancing my work at home, caring for our children and writing. Yeah, that went out the window in like the first week. It felt overwhelming physically. Emotionally.

When I’m tired little noises bug me. Noises like talking to me. At all. Especially in the morning before coffee.

It’s not like constant travel is usual for my husband’s work, for which I’m grateful. I’m good at rolling with the little things, the little unexpected changes and stresses of days with kids. But change like that? Ugh.

In the midst of my husband being gone, after a particularly challenging night’s sleep, I felt a still small voice stirring in my heart. Could I consider this day, a day I was brutally tired, to be the best day of my life? Could I just, just decide right then; could I be determined that this would be my best day?

What a challenge. I didn’t feel up to it. It’s not like there was anything fun in the day to look forward to. Just cleaning, watching after my son, potty training, making lunch and dinner. I decided the best I could do was try to find good things in my day and be grateful.

I won’t lie and say it was the best day of my life. But it was a good day.

When my husband and I decided to start the adoption process for a teenager in foster care we didn’t decide to do so on a magically great day. We didn’t decide while well rested and having already passed every challenging moment in our lives with our five bio kids.

We decided much like I decided to go outside in my pajamas on a rainy Sunday. Just because I saw a stray dog. We heard about a need and asked ourselves, “Could I love one more person? Just one?”

I’m not a Super-Mom. I’m not especially noble. I’m so tired today I woke up nauseous.

But I am a question asker. A seeker. Can I love another dog? Can I love my children another day? Can I pray for a child on the cusp of adulthood? Can I open my heart and my life to a child who is starving for love? They might be a fear biter.

The unexpected is not often safe. Not for our lives or our hearts. But it can be the best day.

What can you do today to make it the best day? What steps can you take to be grateful?

Embracing Insecurity

Most people fight insecurity. Avoid it at all costs.

What happens when insecurity is unavoidable?

Six years ago I was diagnosed with breast cancer out of the blue. I had no risk factors: I was a healthy weight, nursed 4 babies, used a natural deodorant and ate organic food. Being diagnosed with cancer in my early 30s turned my life upside-down. 

How do you embrace insecurity? Impossible.

In all of my dreams for my life I was sure I would get another 50+ years to figure life out. Facing the very real possibility of my death from cancer left me insecure about my future. I was young. I was sure I had decades to make a difference.

What if I only had today?

Now, six years later, I still feel that insecurity. My treatment for cancer saved my life but damaged my heart. What if I only had today to love my husband and kids? What if my heart gave out? What if I only had today to enjoy the weather? What if I only had today to enjoy my two year old’s silly faces, my kindergartener’s two front teeth growing in, and my older children’s laughter?

I’ve spent much of the last six weeks single parenting while my husband works hard on a joint project with another company away from home. Life with five kids and no spouse? I’m tired.

This morning I woke to the reality my husband was still in Boston on business and I was it: the adult home needing to handle all the details to get five kids up and out the door. I had a choice. I wanted to bury myself under the covers and hit the snooze. Even making a cup of coffee felt like too much.

In that moment I received a gift of grace: I looked at what could be my last day on earth.

Insecurity? Maybe.

Would I choose to spend my last day grumbling about my husband being gone? The trash needed to be taken out? I would need to make my own coffee (tragic I know). There would be no one walking alongside me in waking the kids, helping three girls with their hair, driving them to school.

But that’s not reality either. This morning I woke up to God.

God was with me when I woke up “alone”. God helped me to remember I have no guarantee of the future. God helped me to see living in the gift of today is a choice.

As a future oriented person with two major health diagnosis it might be easy to focus on the negative. I have little control over weather I live to see tomorrow. What if that was a gift instead of a loss?

What if I woke everyday saying, “This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it?” 

What if I woke saying that Bible verse whether my husband was home to help me or not? What if I woke to that verse even if I was up until 10:30 last night with three separate kid’s ridiculous requests? (Apparently if you join your sister in bed she still shouldn’t be touching you. Who knew?) What if I woke with a song on my heart even if my two year old added in a nightmare and calling for me last night?

What if my day’s joy had nothing to do with how tired I am? What if today’s joy was not contingent on my tomorrow?

Embrace the insecurities of life. Learn to live with the future by living in the moment. It is, in fact, the only moment you are guaranteed.

What Bible verses, famous quotes or sayings help you to be grateful or joyful for your day?