On Being A Loner

I am a loner.

I think I've said this before, but it bears repeating.

As far back as I can remember, the idea of staying at home alone has been a welcome idea. I cannot identify with my kiddos who don't like to be left alone in the house. Even as a young child I always thought staying home by myself was great fun. So far I have one child who inherited my "home alone" gene.

By the same token, I am a very private person. Our house in Arkansas, with it's dirt lane that took us back behind the trees to a quiet little nook where no one could see us but you knew there were neighbors right up the hill, was perfection in my mind. I don't like to be watched. I am the person who goes to a Scrapbooking party and fiddles around with her pictures all evening, then goes home and does page after page of pictures the next day in the privacy of her own house. As a rule, I'd rather sew my own clothes, clean my own house, do my own canning, take care of my own business, By My Self.

Now that I've ruined all my chances of ever having any offers of help in my future, let me quickly add that I do enjoy people too. In fact, I often enjoy them more than I think. And, although I suppose I will always like privacy, I'm also learning to value interaction.

After we moved to Ohio four years ago and I found myself in a new community with none of my immediate family, I began to realize that I do need other people. In Arkansas I always had my mom and sisters for the times when being married to my best friend wasn't enough. Here I would have to initiate friendships if I needed someone besides my own small world; and I soon discovered I did need someone!

I found that it was important for my own well being to make sure I did some things outside my small world - like go to the sewing ... even though I hated walking in those doors as the new kid on the block! And joining the choir to help with a Christmas program ... even if I hated going alone and felt way out of my league! And various other community activities that pushed me to learn to know people outside of the 'dressedupforSunday' four walls of the church.

Maybe it should be no surprise to me that lately God has been actively pushing me out of my corner even further -- prompting me to call people, putting in my head to visit people, nudging me to be a friend, repeatedly bringing to mind the idea of having ladies over to my house... These ideas can only come from one place, because they certainly aren't coming from my own head! I told a friend the other day, "I'm not sure what God is up to?" She said, "He is using you." And then she added, "Are you okay with that?"

That little question threw me for a loop for a bit. I don't know, am I? Later I decided I'm not sure that I am. In fact, I told God, "I'm not so sure about this. I thought you asked me to write, not be a counselor!!"

The interesting thing is, that in spite of the scary unfamiliarity outside of my comfort zone, there's also the excitement of God working in my heart. I'm reminded of a quote that I heard once. "God is more interested in what He is doing IN you, than THROUGH you." God takes us out of our comfort zones for various reasons. One might be so that we need Him. Another might be that He is using us in someone else's life. But mostly? Mostly, I think, He wants to work in us, and He does that in many creative and interesting ways.

I'm a littled awed to see what interesting ways He has of working in me. I want to allow Him to continue that work, even as I retreat into my corner now and then to say, "Wait a minute. Am I okay with this?!"

Not If, But When

Conversations about death are not uncommon between Chris and I. I don't know if we are unusual or not but it's a subject we often discuss.

As humans living in a fallen world, we all carry the knowledge somewhere in our subconcious that those we love will possibly one day be taken from us. Some of us keep the knowledge well hidden. Most of the time we refuse to acknowledge it's presence at all; as if pretending it isn't there will dispell the truth of it somehow.

As a wife, the idea of my husband being taken away is something I particularly struggle with. Most of the time the knowledge of it lies well hidden beneath the daily activities of life but at times the truth of it stares me hard in the face. One such time comes to mind. We had been living in Ohio less than a year when we received news of the death of Chris' cousin's husband. They were a young couple and the news was especially shocking. Fear washed over me in waves. Having just come through a year of more loss than I had ever dealt with before - leaving my family, my church, my house, my home state, and with no house to call our own... suddenly anything seemed, not only possible, but likely!

Fear can nearly drive one wild if you let it: What would I do without my husband to support us? Where would I go? How would I pay the bills? How could I possibly live without his wisdom and love in my life? What would become of my children? And on and on. Time and again I have had to open my fearfully clutching fists, and give my loved ones back to my Father to do with as He sees best.

I nearly deleted this post after starting it. While I'm not superstitous, it feels rather scary to write about death and fear. Just suppose my writing this is like all those story books with the lines, "Little did she know what the future held....."? There's this little part of me that doesn't want to say these things for fear the Lord might decide to see if I really mean what I say.

But I think it needs to be said. It bothers me when I read/hear about people who have cancer or other life-threatening situations and all you seem to hear is them doggedly holding onto hope; trying every possible treatment to stay alive and seeming to completely deny the fact that quite possibly the time is coming to say good-bye. Let me quickly say, I often don't know all the details AND, I realize that I do.not. know what I would do were I actually in those shoes.

In one of our recent conversations about death, Chris said to me, "The fact is, as a married couple, one of us is going to die first. The majority of us most likely won't see our children die but for you and I, it's not IF one of us is going to be left without the other, it's WHEN."

Of course I told him in no uncertain terms that it had better be me first, not him! In all seriousness though, I think I've lived my life just a bit differently ever since he said that. There is something freeing about looking that fear in the face and acknowledging that it is not IF, but WHEN, and setting out to make every minute count before that 'when' comes. Because it is coming, like it or not.

By God's grace, instead of the reality of death driving me wild with fear, I want it to cause me to look at my loved ones with new eyes. May it spur me to say the I love yous and write the notes and make the good memories and say the kind words in the short time I have with these people. Because, while I am in this fallen world, it is not IF I will need to say good-bye, but WHEN.

6 Years Old!

My littlest lady is 6! Amazing how time flies. I took her cake and ice cream and drink to school this afternoon and had a little party with her classroom. I never cease to be amazed at the amount of time you can spend on these projects and then it all disappears in a matter of minutes! It was fun though and her shining eyes made all the effort worth it.

I'm still waiting for all the nice, quiet days with just Charles and I at home....... sometime life is bound to settle down and those days appear, right? Feels like I do a lot of running hither and yon rather than enjoying the quiet at home. But life is good and I am happy. Amen.

Enough

This was written several weeks ago in the wee hours of the morning. It never felt 'right' as a blog post but somehow, at the moment, it feels ok........

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O God. I feel a desperate ache for you in this dark, ridiculous hour of 2 a.m. I feel hopelessly overwhelmed with the feeling that I cannot be enough.

I cannot be enough for these children who's lives are in my hands to be molded and shaped for such a very short time. I cannot teach enough, train enough, love enough. I am so very flawed; so very selfish and prone to failure. My mouth says one thing and my actions preach another; my mind holds high ideals and my sharp tongue sends out a completely different message. I cannot, cannot be enough.

I cannot be enough for this man who's life I am pledged to share, in sickness and in health, prosperity and adversity, til death do us part. I cannot understand enough, support enough, love enough. My vision is constantly blurred by my own needs clamoring for attention, my desire to fill his needs hampered by my desperately selfish heart. I ache to lift the burdens; to somehow wave the magic wand and pay the bills and build the house and fix the job frustrations. But I cannot, cannot be enough.

In the quiet darkness of the morning, the tears stream and I can only beg you, God, to be enough.

Beg you to teach me selflessness and humility. Beg you to tame the tongue and prompt the apologies for my never ending flaws. Beg you to fill the gaps and take my fumbling, human efforts and make them be enough for this never ending job of molding young lives.

Beg you to clear away the cloudy visions of my needs and in their place shine your light of understanding and care for another. Beg you to teach me love; the servant kind. Beg you to be the burden lifter, the fixer, the dispeller of depression and frustration and me just a vessel in your hands for encouragement and love and supporting.

I confess I tremble to leave the "how" of it for you to decide. What if your idea of fixing is something way different than mine? Ahh. I must daily lay my people on your altar, it seems, as I read of cancer and accidents and disasters. Yet I cannot, cannot be enough, so what choice is there but to throw myself on your grace and allow you to be enough??

And truly, what other choice could I possibly want but to rest in that awe inspiring knowledge that You are, always and forever, Enough.

Back To School

I don't think it has soaked into my brain yet that today was the first day of school. Feels totally unreal that this morning began an endless row of mornings prodding people to get up and get dressed and get their breakfast eaten and combing hair and tying shoes and making lunches and getting everyone out the door on time with no forgotten items left in our wake.

I enter this school year with a strange mixture of feelings. On the one hand I dread the adjustment. I wish I could fast forward two weeks to the time when early bed times are the norm and packing lunches has become routine and the morning schedule has fallen into somewhat of an orderly fashion. On the other hand I have this exhilerating feeling of "Yes! They're all going out the door and I'll have all these hours to do things!!"

It's a strange feeling to have only a two year old at home when you're used to five children and their noise and drama taking up every minute of every day. It's been a good summer, but sometimes the close quarters and the constant chaos leaves me feeling so used up that I almost forget that I *like* these people and enjoy spending time with them!

I remember when I was young and my mom would be getting ready to go away for the day and we were supposed to clean the house or whatever jobs she had assigned us to do while she was gone. We would putter around just waiting for her to head out the door, minds racing with all the things we planned to do as soon as she left. We could hardly wait for her to drive out the lane so we could dive into the work and maybe surprise her with some extra project she hadn't even told us to do.

That's how I feel about school starting this year.

I hope there are some more moms out there who understand what I am feeling. I must admit I feel a bit guilty putting my feelings out there. Like I should be sitting at home with kleenx in hand, thinking how sad it is to have only one who's not in school! It is kinda sad, don't get me wrong. And next week I'll probably be wishing for somebody to entertain the little guy so I can get something done or wishing somebody was around to wash the stack of dishes and run out and bring clothes in off the line. Right now though, I'll just be honest, I can't wait til they get out that door to see what all I can do with all those quiet hours of not settling fusses or answering questions or giving instructions! Come 3:00 I'll be eager to welcome the noise back to my world; to listen to their stories and hear what they learned and remember that, "Ahh, yes. I do like these people!"

Sugary Biscuits

A yummy little treat to share with you today, something my children call "sugary biscuits". My mom used to make them when I was a child, not sure if she made them up or got the recipe somewhere but we had them often with a hot drink for a light, Sunday morning breakfast. They've become a favorite around here too!

You'll need a 10ct tube (or 2 or 3) of store bought biscuits, some butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, and as many round pans as you have tubes of biscuits. Preheat your oven to 400 and place about 1 1/2 T of butter in each of your round pans (this recipe has no measurements, so do as you please). Place your pans in the oven and gather the rest of your ingredients and open your tubes of biscuits. When the butter in the pans is melted, remove them from the oven. Tip pans to spread butter evenly, then sprinkle brown sugar over the bottom of the pans (maybe close to 1/3 cup?) I like to use a fork to spread the brown sugar evenly. Next sprinkle cinnamon over the brown sugar, then place one tube of biscuits in each pan.

Bake at 400 for 10 minutes. Remove from oven and flip immediately onto plates. Scrape pans and place excess sugary mixture on biscuits.

Announce how many biscuits each child is allowed to have before an argument ensues over dividing them out e.q.u.a.l.l.y.

If you really want to bring back Sunday morning childhood memories, have a cup of this along side your sugary biscuit.... if you get any, that is.....

PS. Just a little FYI: these books are still available. If you are interested in buying one, send $7 (includes shipping) to Bethany Eicher, 70174 Pennyroyal Rd, Freeport, OH 43973 and I will send a copy your way! If you are local to either me or my family in AR, you can get the book directly for $5. Have a lovely weekend!

Love Is Something Different

Life is a funny thing. It seems the minute we think it's all sunshine and toes in the sand, it does a backflip and we realize it's really dirty houses and children that somebody should do a better job training and a spouse who you know very well you couldn't live without even though some days make you question that solid knowledge.

I don't like to have my selfishness exposed. Oh, sure. I like to humbly confess my selfish heart and blab on about the work I want God to do. But to have my selfishness exposed in a blinding light right before my eyes? No thanks. Every instinct in me is to rise up and argue, "No, no. That's not me. Oh, I know I'm not perfect, but what you're saying? No, no. That's not me!"
But sometimes, in the dark of the night, in the middle of the argument, God has the grace to blind you with the light and you see that that really is you.

It really is you who hurts your children with your selfishness. You, who makes your husband feel that all he is good for is to keep you happy. You, who's selfishness keeps the friends at arms length in the "this is comfortable" zone.

Blinding light hurts. But then again, so does darkness.

I am in a love/hate relationship with facebook. I contemplate permanently severing the relationship almost daily. But sometimes I have to give it credit, and this quote I read last night was one of those times:

"The truth is that the more intimately you know someone, the more clearly you'll see their flaws. That's just the way it is. This is why marriages fail, why children are abandoned, why friendships don't last. You might think you love someone until you see the way they act when they're out of money or under pressure or hungry, for goodness sake. **Love is something different.** Love is choosing to serve someone in spite of their filthy heart. Love is patient and kind. Love is deliberate. Love is hard. Love is pain and sacrifice, it's seeing the darkness in another person and defying the impulse to jump ship."

Quite obviously, love is the opposite of selfishness. I want to learn that love, the kind that is something different.