Life in the White House: Writing

The desire to belong is so strong, stronger than any other emotion in this world. We all just want to be accepted, welcomed, embraced, and loved as is, to belong to a part of something, something bigger than us. We spend so many years at the beginning of our lives, not trying to figure out who we are, but to belong. Because to not belong means to be different, to be set apart, and not in a good way. It’s easier to blend into the crowd to belong to the masses.

Then the longing changes, for some of us. We want to belong, but to what doesn’t matter anymore, it’s to who. Who will accept us, welcome us, embrace us, love us, as imperfect as we are? Yes there is the belonging to a husband or wife, to children. But there is a belonging even greater than that, one that is even harder for us to accept, because we have to do NOTHING to for it.

We belong to Him. We always have belonged to Him. There is no one, no thing, no group in existence to whom we belong more closely than to Him. But can we accept it, accept the acceptance, the unconditional?

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments.
Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community.

Friday, June 28

What 17 Days without Hot Water Will Teach You….about yourself.

It’s been a week now, that we’ve had hot water again. I’m going to admit it, I’m guilt of thoroughly enjoying having running hot water. No more lugging a 7 gallon pot around the house to bath 4 kids at once. No more sponge baths over the shallow sink because I just didn’t feel like loading everyone up to drive somewhere to shower. No more scalding my hands while trying to wash dishes in a too-small bowl.

Most people can sympathize with what it would be like to be a few days, maybe even a week, without hot water…while not camping. Most people have probably experienced that at some point in their lives. An inconvenience, yes, but nothing earth shattering.

Two and half weeks though…with 4 kids….with cloth diapers: Now that’s a different story.
Interestingly enough I heard more than one time how “well” I was taking this whole thing of no hot water.
Here’s my question: How should I have taken it?

Would I have seemed more “normal” if I had ranted and raved about the injustice of no hot water? If I had stormed out of house refusing to reenter until civility had been returned? Should I have cast my husband from our marriage bed because he couldn’t {notice I said couldn’t, not wouldn’t} prioritize waters return?

Was it hard to have no hot water? Yea, it was. Was it impossible? No. Did I get frustrated and mad? Yes I did. Did I remain constantly at peace with not being able to wash my hands, easily, while preparing meals? No, I didn’t.

So, what did I learn from all of this about myself. I can manage. I can make a choice to not be negative and demeaning to my husband who was trying his very best to work a job, solve our problem, and not spend a fortune on repairs {which we ended up having to do anyways}. I can make a choice to carry on, life as usual, without letting my children see how we SHOULDN’T respond to the inconveniences in our lives. I can make a choice to look at the bright side, and praise the Lord that we at least had clean, running water.

"Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

The bottom line….regardless of any situation, I have a choice, a choice to choose how I react to the unexpected, to the inconveniences. Yes, I could have run around bad mouthing my husband, decrying the injustice of 4 kids and no hot water, and most people wouldn’t have thought I was out of line. Most people would have thought that response was natural, expected and completely OK. Instead…I laughed.

After attempt after attempt to fix, replace, and buy a new hot water heater, ended again and again with no hot water. I laughed. Because it was just so ludicrous that every single thing was not working; there was nothing more to do than laugh. {Don’t get me wrong there were a few strained looks and words between Matt and I…we’re not perfect}.

We have a choice, we always do, even if that choice is not always the easiest to follow through with, we do have a choice. A choice to model grace for those around us: Grace not only for the people around us, but for the circumstances we are in. <---- a="" href="http://clicktotweet.com/cD1Xg" nbsp="" target="_blank">Tweet This!

Of course this week has been so hot and humid, I’ve done nothing but take cold showers anyways :-) But, Lord knows I’m thankful for being able to wash those stinky diapers.

What inconvenient situations have you been in that you responded differently than how others thought you should?

Linked up with Christian Mommy Blogger's Fellowship Fridays.

Thursday, June 13

Hey Bloggers….

Psst….I have something to ask you: Do you comment on other blogs? What makes you comment on blogs? Why do you not comment on others? Do you make it a point to seek out new blogs or not? Do you only comment on “big” blogs or do you look for those who are weaving beautiful words, but may be aren’t being noticed?

So often you see posts written by bloggers to blog readers about how much comments mean to the blog-writer, from the blog-reader. But that got me thinking: What do bloggers do?

I’ve always loved comments and have always wondered how others decided where, when and who to comment on. As bloggers we all know we love to interact with our readers, but do we put the effort forth to do that ourselves.

What’s your thoughts?

{Please ignore the goofy graphic over there, I was just playing around in picmonkey and saw that they had “buggles” as a sticker option.}

Monday, May 20

Our Amazing Race

You have our passports, right?" Oh yes, those words were mentioned while travelling internationally. Not good.

In May of 2006, Matt and I went on our dream trip: Two weeks touring around Scotland and Ireland {with C.I.E tours}. It almost came to a screeching halt, what I am sure would have resulted in our being in jail, when we realized that we were missing a very important document needed for international travel.

We flew out of Newark International Airport at 6pm on Friday, May 19th, on British Airways. It wasn't the first time that either of us had traveled internationally and wasn't the first time that I had been to Ireland. But it was the FIRST time we had traveled so far away together {we went to Jamaica for our Honeymoon 6 months earlier}.

I hate flying to Europe. It takes WAY too long, and I don't sleep on planes....of course Matt was snoring quite peacefully as I began the 4th movie of the night, oblivious to the world. I watched the mini screen on the back of the seat in front of me, constantly checking to see where the little plane was on the map of our flight.

We landed in Heathrow, thinking we had a bit of time before our connecting flight to Edinburgh when we realized that not only were we in the wrong line or terminal, we were in the wrong "town". We finally figured out where we were supposed to be, watching the clock tick closer and closer to our flight leaving for Scotland, perhaps without us.

We were all but running. Tick tick tick. We finally reached the gate, only to be told that they would be boarding the BUS, a BUS!, in a few minutes. A brief reprieve as we wheeled around the tarmac and we were running again. Not only was there a bus…oh no, that would’ve been too commonplace, but there was also a TRAIN that we needed to take to get to our plane.

A train…across the whole of London-Heathrow Airport, just to get to the right terminal. Huffing and puffing, with our 2 weeks worth of luggage, because you have to transfer it yourself {and recheck it in}....tick tick tick tick.

The train comes to a stop and we bolt. "You have our passports right?" Matt reached in his pocket and his face blanched, "$hit!" I was standing near a door on the train, that hadn't closed yet, and jumped in the doorway so it couldn't close, fleeing with our passports.

Matt ran back several cars to our seats and there, tucked nicely in the C.I.E Tours folder sat our passports.

Finally, we were at the final place, luggage being checked, falling into our seats with mere minutes to spare before take off.

TWO HOURS! That's how long it took us to get from one flight to another in London Heathrow, and that is why I will avoid that airport at all cost.

Funny to think that’s it’s been 7 years, today since that Amazing Race. At least the rest of the trip went smoothly.

If you want to see more of our pictures from Scotland and Ireland, you can go HERE.

Friday, May 17

5 Minute Friday - Song

Song….

They say we’re supposed to have a song, but we don’t. That there are supposed to be some words from one musician, that encompass us in a few bars of black dots, but there isn’t. Sure, we have the song we danced to at our wedding {“Until” from Kate and Leopold by Sting}; sure, there were songs we liked for whatever season we were in. But there isn’t any ONE.

We come from the generation of mix tapes, then CD mixes…compilations of our own design, song that

was more us in its randomness than in the beats and rhythms and measured time that 3 minutes contained. Mixes that weren’t uploaded to some generic MP3 player, but painfully laid out in perfect timing, labels that were scratched out in tiny handwriting. Mixes that couldn’t be just erased with a touch of delete, but that were beaten and scratched, played over and over until most of the songs skipped. Oh the mixes we’d make, song after song, some fast and upbeat, others slow and languid. It all was us, you and I, we think in song.

Last Friday, I walked out the back door, to the Moms’ Night Out group, that I started. Hearing the gate latch behind me, only one song played in my mind, “I’m Free” by The Who. The same one that played on those beautiful sunshine days of summer, when I left the ulcer-causing office behind me.

The song doesn’t play like it used, constantly and on loop, memorizing every single crescendo and staccato note. The silence is too priceless for me, to be marred by song. I miss it though. Music constantly pouring from the massive speakers you built in shop class when we were in high school, in all their gaudy electric blue and silver glory, still sitting above our kitchen cabinets, even now. Driving along the beautiful back roads, smelling the damp earth of the woods, music blasting about how there’s nothin’ like the summer. Only when you’re home, does the song play again like it used to.

Lonesome drives home from Buzzards Bay. Five hours of songs, bewailing the distance between us, how I couldn’t take the miles, I couldn’t take the time until the next time I’d see you smile. Song that ticked off each mile marker on the road home. Song that blared from the lips of Celine Dion, as I drove all night to get to you.

There were binders and binders, and boxes and towers of tapes and CDs that we brought to OUR new home, now they collect dust in our attic, because they’ve been digitized. Song that has been reduced to nothing more than electronic code, no more is music a result of two objects brushing passed each other, gentle lovers.

No, for us there isn’t one song. There are a thousand songs, each singing a few discordant notes and uneven bars of what we’ve composed over the years.

1. Write for 5 minutes flat for pure unedited love of the written word.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Be generous and leave an encouraging comment for the person who linked up before you. That’s the best part about this community.

Friday, May 3

5 Minute Friday - Brave

Five Minute Friday –Brave

Posted: 03 May 2013 08:56 AM PDT

I’m assuming, most of you have seen the movie “Brave”, about a girl named Merida and her dismay at being married off. Somedays I feel like Merida, as her father says about her, “I don't want to get married, I want to stay single and let my hair flow in the wind as I ride through the glen firing arrows into the sunset.”

Obviously I did want to get married and love being a wife and mother, but oh that riding through the glen firing arrows into the sunset, escaping another poopie diaper or cook another dinner, anything that I really would rather not deal with….I could stand for that somedays. Somedays just getting out of bed feels like incredible bravery, taking that step off a ledge into the unknown.
But isn’t that what being brave is about, taking that first step, and the next, all the steps that are laid before us.

Tomorrow my sister in law is getting married, having been married for 7 1/2 years and 4 kids, infertility, and everything else, it makes me think. Obviously I wouldn’t change my life, but how brave would we truly be if we knew all the things before and chose that path anyways, in anything, not just marriage.

Getting married is brave. Statistics tell us your more likely to fail, and fail miserably, creating broken hearts and broken homes, but there are those of us who decide to take that step, to not sit by, afraid. Sticking through the tough days or years, doing it on your own if it has failed, continuing forward, facing all that your path has….that is bravery.

Life requires us to be brave, God requires us to trust Him.

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back to Lisa-Jo and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..