mid-life

"For is it not possible that middle age can be looked upon as a period of second flowering, second growth, even a kind of second adolescence?  It is true that society in general does not help one accept this interpretation of the second half of life.  And therefore this period of expanding is often tragically misunderstood.  many people never climb above the plateau of forty-to-fifty.  The signs that presage growth, so similar, it seems to me, to those in early adolescence:  discontent, restlessness, doubt, despair, longing, are interpreted falsely as signs of decay.  In youth one does not as often misinterpret the signs; one accepts them, quite rightly, as growing pains.  One takes them seriously, listens to them, follows where they lead.  One is afraid.  Naturally.  Who is  not afraid of pure space - that breath-taking empty space of an open door?  But despite fear, one goes through to the room beyond. 

But in middle age, because of the false assumption that it is a period of decline, one interprets these life-signs, paradoxically, as signs of approaching death.  Instead of facing them, one runs away;  one escapes - into depressions, nervous breakdowns, drink, love affairs, or frantic, thoughtless, fruitless overwork.  Anything, rather than face them.  Anything, rather than stand still and learn from them.  One tries to cure the signs of growth, to exorcise them, as if they were devils, when really they might be angels of annunciation."

"Gifts from the Sea", Anne Morrow Lindbergh

i know what you're thinking - why is janet posting something about middle age?  because friends, i'm hitting it.  i'm thinking that "middle-age", for me at least, is less about a specific number than it is about life stage. i'm in the in-between.  most of you aren't - most of you still have children too young for school, or are pregnant, or you're too young to even contemplate the age "middle".  but i'm here, on the cusp, on the edge of a wide chasm.  and it is scary, the pure space, the open door...but also a little breath-taking if i'm honest. 

my youngest is now in kindergarten, which means that half of my school days are wide open spaces.  when i think about them i see large fields stretching from me, inviting me to explore.  but with the fields come the questions - what am i to do?  who am i to be in this next season of my life? 

it's a struggle, because it is hard to leave behind old rhythms, past areas of ministry, comfortable excuses.  it's hard to say no to anything when i seem to have all this time, all this freedom to share. i do feel discontent and restless, and compelled to frantic action.  for the last two weeks i wake up tuesday morning, the day after our sabbath, feeling like i'm going to drown.  like the amount of work facing me in the day is too much to comprehend.  and then, by 4pm, i'm bored.  it's like i've completely forgotten what i'm capable of, how much time certain tasks take me, the difficulty level of work that i've been doing for years.  what is going on?!

i stumbled upon this chapter today and pieces began falling into place.  this is a new season, a new stage of awkward growth.  it's even accompanied by the same inexplicable weight gain i experienced in pre-adolescence!  thankfully i'm not needing another round of dental appliances, and i have a much stronger fashion sense. 

awkwardness is never fun however - i'm all gangley arms and legs, shy in my own skin, looking around me, waiting for affirmation, for direction, for calling.  tentatively sticking my big toe through the open door, trusting that the same God who is in this room is waiting in the next.  that's one great thing about the middle - all the faith-inspiring experience of the beginning to remember. 

so, welcome angel of annunciation - whisper to me the secrets of the future, the scandal of the present, the promise of the past.  tell me my life's purposes, and i will walk with you
through the middle,
to the end.

ditches

yesterday morning was difficult.

at church we listened to  a speaker from the global leadership summit - a leadership conference which occurs in the summer at a huge church in the states, and then is shipped world wide in dvd form, where it is done for the masses in the fall.  our church here in saskatoon hosts the summit each year - a time of great influence, and ridiculous amounts of administration.  anyways, as a promotion we watched one of the videos from last year.

usually the summit is geared to anyone, christian or not, but last year things got a bit churchy (a problem i've heard has since been corrected)...anyways, the gist of the talk was this: "God wants to do amazing things with your life, but in faith you need to prepare for what He will do through you".  the speaker (a man around my age in skinny slacks and a cardigan, and yet, somehow still attractive) said (and i paraphrase) "i don't want to just work, have a life, buy a boat and die.  i want to do something amazing, something that will change the world.  i want stories of great risk and God's faithfulness to tell my children and grandchildren".   he told a story from the book of kings where three kings are wanting to fight this other king and they've prepared their troops and have marched out, only to hit a drought.  so they inquire of God through a prophet, should they fight?  will they win?  and God answers "build ditches.  it's going to rain".  so they do, and it does, and they win.

point being:  we build the ditches.  God makes it rain. 

all of this i wholeheartedly agree with.

however, the talk left me feeling deflated.  because i want great stories of risk and faithfulness too, i want to do amazing things, i want to change the world.  but HOW THE HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT?  i sat in the pew and stared at my life of laundry and meals and kids board games and teacher meetings and cleaning the pee off the bathroom floor.
a small sound like a ppphhhhhhzzzzzzzzz was heard.

                        deflation.

the speaker kept saying "what ditches are you digging?  what ditches are you digging!?".  i don't even own a shovel, and i just put my shoulder out doing my boot camp workout, and i don't know what bloody ditches i'm digging!!!!!!!!!

i know, i know.
and i know that you know,
that the role of a mother is an extremely high calling and world-changing position.  i know that all of the love i poor into my children will be exponentially felt as they pass it along.  i know that i could have nobel prize winners sleeping under my roof. 

and i bet that the speaker knew. 
but he didn't say it.  or maybe he did and i didn't hear it.

it's one thing to know it, and a whole other thing to feel it, and feel validated in it.  is anyone else out there feeling a little overwhelmed with books and talks that make you feel that the only way to be a Christ-follower is to sell your house and live in the projects and eat beans and make every conversation count and put your kids in inner-city schools and give away your television?  i mean seriously?  after all that i have to give away my television?

i think yesterday i had just had enough. 

and, to be honest, it's quite possible that the speaker had no intention of making me feel this way, it's just something stirring in me that finally went pop!

this morning i'm looking at my life and realizing if i try to tack on a world-altering project it would be for the wrong reasons, and my children would grow up bereft of my best.  i am following Christ's leading, and so far he hasn't led me to the slums of calcutta, or to some savvy business plan to clothe the poor, and he certainly hasn't given me a mind to cure disease or invent a water purification system. 

i will feed my children healthy meals and listen intently when they explain their fears, i will pray for my neighbours and friends and invite them over for soup, i will plan birthday parties that will make my children's friends feel loved and safe and honoured, i will support my local school and be a voice for positive change to the administration, i will mentor, i will create works of art to inspire and encourage, i will clean the bathrooms for my homegroup, i will spend time in prayer with my friends, i will learn and pass on what i learn, volunteer, teach, worship, share, trust God for my daily bread and do all that i can to bring His kingdom into my everyday.

there.  forget the shovel, bring on the backhoe.

a new era

today was my son's first day of kindergarten, and scott and i's first sabbath without kids.  it was delightful.  after the usual hubbub of getting the kids out the door in the morning, we leisurely spent the a.m. napping, reading, and snuggling.  went out for lunch and then did some shopping (!), bought me some boots (!!!) and a new BEAUTIFUL winter coat.  happy birthday to me!

my son was beaming when i picked him up "mommy!  three recesses AND gym!!", i made chicken cordon bleu for dinner and then the kids made an obstacle course in the backyard and we raced - my daughter won.  i think i will have bruises from the "sit in the toy dump truck and move it over to the tree without using your feet" obstacle.  what was i thinking trying to squeeze my butt into that toy?  scott pointed out the fact that the bucket portion of the truck seems to have been widened - he wisely said "we broke it"...but i think we all know who broke it, and there's no "we" about it.

so, all in all a fantastic beginning to this new era in parenting.  i keep saying to scott "we made it!" and i can hardly believe it.  i almost get misty eyed due to the fact that both my kids can wipe their own butts and get into their own carseats.  and now they have lockers and school shoes and lunch kits! 

my hope for this season is to spend sabbath with scott, one day a week painting, and one day every other week volunteering at the crisis pregnancy center.  it feels surreal to be in a place of making decisions based on my passions and giftings, and not on childcare needs, nap times, the emotional/physical needs of my kids, etc.. 

and what an absolute joy to watch my kids grow and explore and mature (a little).  i found out that my daughter, who's in grade 3, found her little brother on the playground at lunch and invited him to play with her and her friends.  he got to be a baby porcupine in their game.  i'll have to spike his hair for wednesday so he can really get into character.  what a big sister.  the only time i remember seeing my big brother at elementary school was on the bus - and he told my mom that i kissed a boy on the ride home in grade one and she sent me to my room to "think about it".  i did kiss him, but only because the bus guard - one of those burly grade fivers that you see in movies - made me.  his name was Grant and he had an english accent.  and so began my illustrious kissing career.  of all the times i should have been sent to my room, the grade one bus kiss was not one of them.   

i don't blame you though mom.  how does one handle such scenarios?  yesterday my son cut his sister's new doll's hair.  she walked downstairs and he said "it cuts like real hair!  look!" and proceeded to unwrap his fingers, revealing a small clump of dolls hair in his palm.  to her immense credit she did not scream, she just came to me and calmly relayed the information.  what's a parent to do?  i made him pay her a dollar.  i said that he had damaged someone elses property, and according to the law he had to pay for it.  he took it well. 

Lord knows what disciplinary measures i'll be wading through next week, or even tomorrow.  it's enough to make me want to turn ostrich and hide my head in the sand. 

praise God there's another sabbath coming.

 

the last day

today is my last day of 36. 
this last week has been a nesting flurry - despite not being pregnant.  i came home from my month away and went a little crazy with paintbrush and nails and debit card.  i think i have this feeling of impending imprisonment in my home during the long winter ahead, and i want to make it as beautiful as possible for the coming siege.  tonight i'm sitting back, taking it all in with a sigh of satisfaction.  i'm currently on my couch with the sun shining in through the tree in our front yard, covering me with dappled light.  scott and the kids are out for a walk and i stayed in, warm and cozy, to finish a novel and write to you all.  it's been a lovely day.  i wish all of my "last days" could land on a sabbath.

tomorrow my youngest registers for kindergarten.  i washed his hair today but got sidetracked with dinner and forgot to comb it so it's sticking up every which way around his little head.  perfect.  he told his sister and i the other day, over lunch, that he was a little nervous for school.  big sister piped right up with "but you're going to love it!  and you get to be in a play at the end of the year!  and go to assemblies and the library and gym and even dance class!!"  he turned his big eyes to me - "i don't want to be in a play!" strike one for big sister.  but a big A for effort. 

i picked up my paintings from rosthern a week ago - it was like reuniting with old friends.  we're still arranging and re-arranging them around the house, but oh!  how i missed them.  and what a sense of worth i feel when i experience how they turn a room into a beautiful space.  i think that this gallery show has propelled me forward into seeing myself as an artist, not just someone who enjoys painting.  not that it was a financial success, but the whole journey of creation and display and offering my work to both friends and strangers....something has clicked inside.  and i'm thankful.

last week i arrived home to 3 foot weeds (did i tell you?).  what is it about weeds that are so irksome?  scott and i walked with the kids down by the river last night - gorgeous gorgeous evening with the setting sun and wildflowers and tall grass.  surrounded by weeds and loving every minute, and yet, in my own yard...is it because i can't control them?  is it because i work so hard to get something i have paid for to grow and these just shoot up willy-nilly, seemingly without the need for water or fertilizer or attention?  infuriating!!  my mom calls weeds 'God's flowers', but in my mind i think the opposite. 

a while ago, while i was uprooting these intruders, i had the thought that weeds are like sin.  (stick with me here, i think i have a point.) it's so easy to lie, to envy, to covet, to gossip, to lust; and so hard to sacrifice, and honour, and submit, and have compassion.  you don't have to cultivate sin, it just springs up when and where you least expect it.  and kills the Spirit alive within you, trying to grow and flourish and beautify.  i did not have to plant anger in myself or my children, or tend to jealousy.  but love, joy, peace, patience, self-control, kindness, goodness...these need to be nurtured and practiced and protected.  not that they're more fragile, just harder to grow.  maybe this is why God reveals himself first as a gardener in Eden.  where weeds need no help to flourish, the garden needs a Gardener.  and so do i.

and then today scott and i had fries from mcdonalds and decided they're like sin.  they taste so good in the moment, and then 10 minutes later you pay for it. 

and wetting the bed is like sin.  momentary pleasure that quickly brings discomfort.

do the metaphors never end?  okay, i'm stopping.  but here's to my 37th year ahead - may it be filled with artistry, a garden of God's character, healthy food and a dry bed.  cheers.