Guilt and Approval

I wish I could say that I have it all together as a pastor's wife. But I am definitely a work in progress, a study in contrasts, as we all are. One example would be how I have such a self-deprecating sense of humor, and honestly feel like my self-esteem is okay, and yet, I care deeply what other people think of me.

Another example is this: I like to advocate for balance in marriage, church, family and "Sara-time," and yet I still feel guilty when I live it out.

 I have a heart for food and hospitality (sometimes), and for discipleship. In ministry, my favorite age group is the young adult crowd. I am not a social butterfly and I do not like schmoozing out on the church lawn after church. I love hearing how people are doing for real, and I love building deep relationships with people, yet that takes time. In women's ministry, I use the motto "I reserve the right to be a participant(and not a pastor's wife!)." In other words, as a pastor's wife, it is easy to get over-worked in lots of really great things. But some of those things may not fall in line with our gifting or passions. If I participated in every good thing, I would have a mental melt-down and possibly end up bitter towards the church or in a "somethings gotta give" situation where my marriage or my kids might be suffering. Therefore, my motto. I participate in bible study and attend the retreats but I try hard to not be on planning committees or go to all the social get togethers, teas and talks. I don't always have to be on the leadership side of things, and I allow myself (in theory) the option of saying no.

I prefer to use my energy and time to invest in those areas that I feel particularly called to and passionate about. The problem with this lies in the faces of the women who I turn down when asked to be a part of said planning committee. The problem with this lies in quiet whispers in the pews when the pastor's wife didn't show up to a much-hyped church event. The problem really, truly, lies in my own heart's desire to be liked by everyone, and that just will never be. That desire fills me with guilt and fear every time I say no to something even though I know I can't do it all. That desire is decidedly not what the bible refers to in Galatians 1:10 when Paul asks himself.."am I now trying to win the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man?"

Though this blog post may not be the most cohesive ever, I hope to raise two challenges by it. The first to those of you in the church who may have been an eye-raiser at one point or another, when someone doesn't serve where you think they should serve or participate when you think they should participate. I fall into this category without question. We cannot judge this and we need to allow people in the church to say no without guilt. Leave it up to the Holy Spirit to get them there if it is God they are running from. But if it is simply a boundary, a choice to focus on one area over another, or just not their thing...it is not up to us to judge. And for the pastor's wives (or anyone actually!)out there, and to this category I also fall, the challenge is to ever strive for a life that pleases God and not man. That is a hard, hard thing and a principal I have yet to master.

Tonight as I write this, sitting next to my sleeping 5-year old, many women from my church are at an event together. I could be there, and it could be a really good thing. But I am not there, and hopefully I am right where I need to be.

The Mum Factor

Today marks 15 years of marriage to my husband Ryan (the pastor to whom this blog title refers...). I awoke to a sweet note from him sitting next to the best of all gifts, a potted mum. Now this, truly was a grand gesture.

 Here is the back story on the mum plant: 16 years ago or so, Ryan came to my house to pick me up for one of our first dates. We were but babes at the time. Remembering (like a good boyfriend should) that I mentioned a love for fresh flowers, he brought me a lovely potted mum which I thought was wonderful.... Not. (yes, the NOT reference is a nod to the lingo of the time...remember the 90s?).

 He immediately saw the look on my face (I am not subtle) and knew that I was not happy. I then went on to tell him that a potted plant is not romantic but rather something that you give to your grandma when you go for cookies at her house. Honestly, how was this relationship going to work if it could be summed up in a potted MUM??

 The irony, though, is that our marriage can be summed up by that Mum plant. You see, Ryan did not give up on his courtship of me because I rejected his gift and overanalyzed it. He tried again, and again. He learned from that moment and tried something different the next time around. He learned that for me, it is best to just have me write down the make and serial number of what I want. For him to pay attention to that was in itself romantic.

 For him to put up with me when I did not receive his naive (and sweet) gesture with any amount of grace...also romantic. I overanalyze and can be frank (too frank). I have made mistakes and hurt Ryan and he has done the same. 15 years of marriage means many opportunities to screw up. It means many ups and downs and many reminders of our failings in life. But it is not in the Mums of life that we are defined. It is not in the mess-ups, the trip ups, the big fights, the little resentments that build or the days you are just annoyed. It is in how you handle those things that end up defining your relationships. Everyone will fall down, but in picking up again, you grow and you learn.

 Marriage takes some risk. It takes a lot of humility and the ability to forgive and try again. It takes the ability to receive forgiveness and love from someone else. If you can do those things, even those dark moments in your marriage can provide a backdrop to something beautiful - to a story of redemption and restoration.

 15 years and counting. I love that I found that potted mum this morning. No longer representing the mistakes we have made, but rather the strides we have taken all these years to love regardless of those mistakes. Happy Anniversary, Ryan!

My weekend in "France"

Last weekend I had the incredible opportunity to house sit for some friends who didn't really need a house sitter. The stipulations for house sitting were that I come without children, that I eat their food and that I don't do any housework. I was asked to NOT make the bed. I showed up on Friday night and found a huge welcome basket waiting for me filled with yummy food and wine. I stayed up late on the first night and watched movies. Because I am a busy mom of three boys and a pastor's wife and I actually need sleep (which some mom's don't seem to need) I don't watch many movies. So pretty much any movie out there I have not seen. I watched three movies and then slept in until 7 the next morning.

Unless you are in the middle of raising kids and unless you have kids like mine who do not have volume control nor do they appreciate sleep that much, you will not fully know the value of waking up to a quiet house. I did sort of miss my family Friday night as I watched movies and I sort of missed my family when I climbed into my friend's guest bed for the night. But the confession is that I really didn't miss them at all when I woke up the next morning to a quiet house. I was able to spend some time praying beyond just the usual "Lord, help me get through today" or "Lord, give me patience to not lock my kids in their rooms" or "Lord, please give me one more year before Ben figures out how to use matches..." It was so wonderful to spend that time with the Lord and with my really strong, bad coffee (I cannot make coffee but Ryan is a barista as well as pastor so why do I need to learn?).

I had enjoyed some good bread, salami and bruschetta the night before for dinner and then on Saturday morning I headed to a crepe shop to meet up with some girlfriends for a late breakfast. After a lovely time with them ("Lovely" seems like the appropriate word after time with girlfriends eating crepes, doesn't it?), I headed to an outdoor mall to window shop.

When I was all window-shopped out I went home for a quick snack and changed for a date night with Ryan. He actually came to pick me up from the house I was staying at, and then at the end of the evening he dropped me back off there, "just as if we were back in college!" as Ryan put it. We went down to San Clemente to a little shop that specializes in flavored olive oils and balsamic vinegars - called Oliver's. We tried every one, and had them combine oils and vinegars for us, and then we were so confused that we left empty handed because they all tasted good. At least we live close. :) After Oliver's we went down to the pier to watch one of the prettier sunsets I have witnessed in a while and then to the Vine restaurant that has a decidedly French menu.

After Ryan bid me au revoir (that's french for goodbye, of course) for the evening I watched two more movies, the final movie being "Julie and Julia." I liked the movie but didn't love it. But I had just finished Julia Child's autobiography "My Life In France" which I loved and it is rare to find a movie that I like as much as the books on which they are based. I finished the movie and of course wanted to cook something but since it was midnight (about three hours past my bedtime) I hit the hay.

The next morning I looked through my friends cookbook by Julia Child - Mastering the Art of French Cooking - which of course I need to have that cookbook now. I packed up my things and made sure that the made up guest bed was just rumpled enough that my friend couldn't accuse me of making the bed, and then headed straight for our local farmer's market. I picked up two pounds of mushrooms to saute, some salad greens, some fresh fruit and a huge potted purple heather plant. After such a "french" infused weekend away I couldn't help myself and felt very urban and cool with my reusable bags, fresh produce and huge purple flowers under my arm. Not a soul noticed but I definitely had a spring in my step as I left the market.

I headed home feeling refreshed and happy. Every mom should be so lucky as to take a weekend away. And an introvert like myself needs more than a "girls retreat" - I really need time alone. It was a blessed time of eating, shopping, mindless movie watching, time with friends and hubby, praying, reading and sleeping. Ahhh.

I walked through the door of my house at 9:30 am on Sunday morning. The older the boys were playing a video game rated for teenagers which I had told them not to play. Laundry was tossed about the living room floor. Dishes were on the counter and in the sink. Two year old Ben was eating marshmallows, and Ryan was on his computer. He looked up and said "oh...I thought you wouldn't be back so soon!" Fortunately for them, I only gave them each a kiss and hug and headed to the kitchen to get some good coffee.

Productivity

People who say that having children means the end of all productivity do not know my children. Let me just use last Wednesday as an example of what I mean. Last Wednesday by 6:45 am, while I poured myself a cup of coffee, Isaac had painted a picture of a Japanese woman in front of her authentic Japanese home in acrylics. Ian had played two games of bowling and had gotten past two new levels of Indiana Jones on our Wii. While I attempted to put some clothes in the dryer, Ben climbed up on the counter and took out every vitamin, cough drop and chocolate chip from the cupboard. He also took all the candy canes off the tree and ate two, while stashing the others in some secret spot I have yet to discover - I only know it exists because he keeps showing up with candy cane sticky face at random times throughout the day. By 8 o'clock a.m. in the time it took me to use the restroom and splash my face with water, the older boys had made a pillow fort, thrown about 1000 verbal insults at one another, pushed, shoved, stuck stinky feet in each other's faces and had broken the sound barrier while telling me through the bathroom door the injustice of having brothers. Ben in that time had quietly gone outside in his feetie pajamas and had watered all the plants with his squirt bottle, getting his feet-ie pajama - clad feet all wet and muddy and had also found the time to pull some stuffing out of an old pillow in the garage and rummage through some bags to find an old piece of Easter candy from last year.

I could go on. But I am exhausted just recounting the day to you. Let me just sum up. I believe by the end of the day I had (I think I remember this correctly) gotten dressed and eaten at least one meal although most likely standing up - unless Ben was on my lap eating it off my plate before I could get a bite. The boys had continued on pace. Isaac invented a couple things, searched for gold with his metal detector, created a new Indian tribe complete with it's own language, made a tornado - sized wreck of his room, lost his shoes at least 10 times, and managed to get more food on the floor than in his mouth for all three meals, putting his 2 year old brother to shame. Ian found a way to push every single one of Isaac's buttons, played more video games than I care to write in case this would incriminate me as a bad mother (although this blog is called "confessions,,," after all and it IS Christmas break). He rode his bike and went back and forth to the neighbor boy's house every five minutes for about 5 hours and managed to suck a little bit more of my sanity while he worked his weird reverse-psychology meets manipulation- meets overly emotional and overly sensitive middle child- magic on me. Benjamin jumped on the bed where I had neatly folded and sorted the laundry just moments before, helped me wash the windows by spraying an entire bottle of windex on the kitchen french doors, spilled his hot chocolate all over the livingroom carpet, organized the cupboards next to the refrigerator where I keep anything even sort-of resembling a sweet, and had made paper airplanes out of our pile of bills on the computer table.

Like I said, our family should be proud. Three young boys in the house could mean that not a thing gets done all day long. Thankfully that is not the case around here. We are one highly productive crew.

Princess

Last weekend our dog was hit by a car in front of Ryan and our three boys. He didn't make it. I thought I would share some of my memories of him while they are still fresh in my mind.

Miki had many nicknames. Licki - because he liked to lick Ryan's feet (eww). Frog - I guess because it rhymes with dog? I called him Princess - because he liked to sleep in late, he preferred his head on our softest pillows, and he always called shotgun in our car. Miki dog. Mikers. Mik.

Miki didn't wag his tail, he wagged his entire butt. And it would hit the wall and it was LOUD. One thing could set him off and make him happy or excited and the whole house would rumble with that THUMP THUMP of Miki's wagging butt.

Princess didnt get up in the mornings when I would get up and so I would step over him every morning while I made the bed.

We would let Miki in at dinner time so he could sit under the table during our "family time." He preferred to sit nearest to our 2 year old who he thought dropped the most food - in reality our 9 year old is our messiest.

My two year old would chase Miki with a water spray bottle, would dump dirt into his water dish, would put leaves on his head, would lock him in the garden, would sit on his face and would try to come up with at least one new way to torment him every day. And Miki tolerated it and I think liked it. My two year old would also sneak him extra food and dog bones when they thought no one was looking.

Miki dog was a big scaredy cat who ran from Ryan's guitar, the garbage can, backyard lizards and small dogs and cats he would meet on the street. And don't even mention fireworks, or nerf guns or the two year old. He was scared of water and would "tip toe" across a stream on tiny little rocks the size of his paws rather than walk in two inch deep water to cross.

Miki LOVED to run in open fields when we let him. He would bound higher that it seemed possible. He could also rock climb better than any mountain lion I have ever seen and jump over any obstacle.

Miki didn't bark or jump. However he did pee on our neighbors stairs (in his house) once and peed on a woman's back at the park once. So before you think he was a good, smart dog - just so you know..

Miki could run 3 1/2 milees around the lake with me and then I would have to drag him home. That was annoying.

Miki was also smelly and hairy (as all dogs are). I am not a dog lover but I am outnumbered 4-1 in our family. Ryan and the boys lost a loved one last week and we all lost a part (albeit annoying part) of our family. If dogs go to heaven then I am sure Princess is peeing on the pearly gates and playing fetch with some of the saints. I don't know if there are many walls in heaven but if there are, then the angels are probably waking each morning to the THUMP THUMP of Miki's butt. We'll miss you Miki.

Real Women

I read a pretty standard women's magazine today. I was a tomboy growing up in a house full of girls and was never really into all that "girly stuff" like hair, clothes or makeup. But somehow along this life's journey I found myself in a house with three sons, a husband (who is male) and a dog (also male). And with this development I have gotten far more deeply in touch with my feminine side. One of the ways that I enjoy being "girly" is to look through women's magazines. I love to read up on the latest seasonal fashions, the hot new makeup colors, the best new diets and much to Ryans chagrin, celebrity gossip. Today I was sucked in to a magazine by the cover story entitled something like "a new and thinner you by summer!" I read every word and even took notes.

Now I am sure that for some women (maybe even many?) these magazines actually feel grounded in reality and hold practical truths for everyday life. I am not one of these women though. The following are just a few examples of how my attempts to take advice have worked out (or not):

Natural looking, beach waves with minimal effort! I have wavy hair which is supposedly perfect for this look. All I have to do is put in some product, blow dry and scrunch, then put in more product to get rid of the frizz, then use a curling iron to fix all the spots where my hair stands straight up on top of my head (naturally) or curls up in sort-of a Carol Brady way. Then I have to wait half the day for my puffy hair to go a little limp and voila! Naturally wavy and beautiful hair. The few times I have tried this I ended up dunking my head under the sink in frustration and blow drying my hair straight and calling it a day.

Heels are in! Peep toes, pumps, strappy heals and in particular bold colored heels worn with pencil skirts and expensive jeans! My problem is that I do read the fashion magazines and everyone always looks so pulled together and stylish and I actually start to think I could pull off a pair of pumps for kindergarten pick up, carpool with the third graders, walking the dog and chasing the one (almost two) year old around our muddy back yard. I even saw a great Banana Republic ad once last year of a woman in a silk dress and heels pushing her adorable little boy on the swings at the park. It seemed so natural, so right. What the photo forgot to show us is how the cute little boy then rubbed a sticky sucker all over the front of her silk dress which stained it forever (yeah this has happened to me) and then her heels got caught in the sand under the swingset causing her to trip and tear a muscle making her have to limp after her kids and dog for the next two weeks.

Favorite Family Recipes that EVERYONE will love!! I would love to find a recipe that is healthy and popular with all three of my boys. One who only likes things like seafood and Indian curry, the other who prefers pizza and chicken nuggets, and the other who will only eat it if there is sugar added. There is rarely a night in our house where I don't have to hear from one out of the four eaters in my house - "gross!!! this is disgusting!"

My last and most current "article disconnect" as I just decided to call it was the thin by summer article. It said really encouraging, optimistic things like, "just do exercise and the fat will melt off your body!" You will have endless energy and be on the beach in a bikini by June! At my age and after three children and with my unfortunate genes, I have been at the gym almost every day this year with minimal results. In fact I have only gained weight since joining the gym this year. The muffin top is still there and the skin that has been stretched beyond repair will never be gone save for winning a free trip to the plastic surgeon. I have never in my life seen fat melting off my body although things have started to sag which might be the closest thing.

Bottom line is, I wonder why there isn't a magazine out there on the stands selling tons of copies with articles that relate better to me and those like me? Articles that are more along the lines of "Best deals on earlobe surgery for mom's whose kids have pulled earrings out of their ears." And " Best exercises to do that will keep you from getting any worse (but no guarantees)" and "best new clothes that let you sit criss cross apple sauce on wet grass" or even "why all the organization in the world will never keep your house clean." My mom today gave her own examples from a working empty nester in her 50s. Something about "lucky you now you get hot flashes and there is nothing you can really do about it!" And " now that you need glasses for both far and near you find yourself picking up the wrong merchandise at the store and reading the price tags wrong and being too embarrassed to tell the cashier so you spend way too much for stuff." Those titles are so catchy, aren't they?

I will continue to read good ol women's magazines. They are entertaining and they continue to convince me, even if only for a short moment, that the tips inside them can be useful to me. I am seriously considering starting my own magazine though - so be on the lookout on stands near you!

He is Alive and Well

Some could say that this year could feel like a bit of a letdown after last year. Last year at Christmas we were singing carols in Shepherds Field overlooking the town where Jesus was actually born. This year was our first Christmas ever spent with no extended family around. We each had a couple gifts under the tree and we shared a dinner with another family who had no one to spend the day with.

Last year on Palm Sunday, my sons and I carried palm branches and walked from the top of the Mt. of Olives down into the Old City of Jerusalem with thousands of other jubilant believers crying out and singing "Hosanna!!" We remembered the time when 2000 years ago Jesus entered the city by that same route and received a king's welcome. This year we celebrated "palm Friday" (our church meets on Friday nights) attending a wedding rehearsal and then in a small upstairs room with a handful of other believers -

Last year on Good Friday I went to the Old City and watched as a Middle Eastern Man carried a cross through the city to reenact Christ's own journey to Golgotha. On the way home I passed the Holy Sepulchre, the church on the site of what people believe to be Christ's tomb. I watched as pilgrims wept over the place where He died for them. This year on Good Friday we shared a potluck meal with other believers and worshipped and took communion together.

Last year on Easter Sunday we woke to a sunny Jerusalem morning and went to the Garden Tomb where we celebrated Christ's resurrection with singing along with people of many other languages and cultures. We finished the day with a barbeque with friends in a park overlooking the old city. We watched the sun set over Jerusalem and we watched the sun set on the day of all days - Tomorrow on Easter morning our boys will do a scavenger hunt for their Easter baskets. We will meet together with friends and worship, baptize some and share some good coffee and pastries. Then we will head out to the "country" to share a meal and to celebrate with some of our closest friends.

The experience of last year far exceeded my expectations and to spend Christian holidays in the place where they all began was incredible and life changing. But where does that leave the rest of believers? And where does that leave me now that I am just a normal American citizen celebrating the holidays in somewhat "normal" ways? Tonight it hit me, while I was stuffing little plastic eggs and chocolate bunnies into my boys (and Ryans) Easter baskets. I realized that while last year made a huge impact on me and I highly recommend to people that they travel to the Holy Land if possible, God was ever present with me before I went there. And he is with me now. All I really need to do is take just a single moment to reflect and just that moment is enough to make my heart swell. That the God of the Universe would come down to earth, live and then die in my place to save me and to show his great love for me - now that is over the top. That is true whether I am sitting in the town where he lived and died or if I am sitting in my living room in suburban America.

I am grateful for that. I am grateful to our great God who by His smallest gesture of love to His most outrageous creations makes life never boring and never without promise. Tomorrow I will celebrate with other believers and remember that God Almighty did write out a story with many twists and turns and one great cliff-hanger that ended in Jesus gaining victory over death and once again reigning over all things. Whether comes joy or sorrow, excitement or the mundane, God is alive and well and in each of our life's story.

Happy Easter and may you find great joy in knowing that Jesus is Alive!