Child of weakness, watch and pray

My children stack up all the pillows they can find. They pile up higher than my one and a half year old's head. I see Zoe peering over the side of her tower and I stand there, smiling, trying to understand their game. I push aside a pillow that has fallen off the top.

It's a wall, cries Zoe. Don't knock it down!
Why a wall, I ask.
We are building it, she says, in the all-knowing logic of a three year old.
But what is your game, Zo?
The game is the wall, Mommy.

My life feels unordered right now. Again I find myself in a season of transition, and while one of my choosing, I feel unsteady and unsettled. What do I do now that I'm home? Staying at home doesn't feel enough. I should be running a side business, working on my writing, teaching part-time, running an at-home daycare, going back to school, working towards something.

I've never sat still easily. What's the plan? What's next? I love to know. I want to know.

But I don't, and I can't, and in this season I will sit. I will wait. I will find the joy in the small things, in my small ones. I will watch and pray. I will learn rather than teach. I may find that the game is the wall. The building of small lives is the plan, is the work. And as long as this season lasts, I will search for grace.

The trouble of keeping score

Nathaniel and I have been married for six years. And the longer we're married, the more I'm convinced that what causes marriages to suffer is the little things. The pastor that did our marriage counseling told us this time and time again. Marriage, he said, isn't 50/50. It's 100/100. If you try to make all things are equal, then you'll start keeping score. Then you'll start trying to make sure that what you do is matched by what they do. No, he told us, it won't work unless you both give 100%.

How true we have found this to be.

At too many times, there's this imaginary T-chart in my brain. On one side is the list of all of the things that I've done that day. On the other is the list of things Nathaniel has done.

Every little thing I did that day is on the list. The only thing I count as Nathaniel as doing is leaving for the day and going to work. And what does this lead to?

Resentment.

That's what it leads to. It leads to a big ugly black mess of resentment that sends deep life-draining roots into my heart. I see myself as better than he is. I would never, never in a million years say out loud that I am better than he is. But I would think it. And when I keep that ongoing who did what list in my head, that's what is really happening. It becomes me vs. him.

Marriage is not always equal. There will be times when yes, I am doing more. Just as there are times that Nathaniel does more. 

I'm setting my marriage up for failure when I keep a list. It robs me of peace, it robs peace from us. It makes me watch that equality meter, and as soon as I feel that I've fed it enough quarters, I want to stop. I want all things to be equal, or at least to feel equal.

But you and I know this can't be true. Fairness isn't about equality, its about getting what each one needs. 

Right after Zoe was born and Eric was born, I was in a season of need. Almost the entire first year of Zoe's life, I was in a season of need. Not once did Nathaniel complain about this. He encouraged me and built me up. He loved me. He gave me 100%. Some days it was all I could do to give 10%. Now it is my turn. This is my season of 100%.

This is also when I learn what love is and how little I understand it and how little I can do anything to deserve it. True love is self-sacrificing. 

I love 1 Corinthians 13 from The Message,

Love never gives up.

Love cares more for others than for self.

Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.

Love doesn’t strut,

Doesn’t have a swelled head,

Doesn’t force itself on others,

Isn’t always “me first,”

Doesn’t fly off the handle,

Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,

Doesn’t revel when others grovel,

Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,

Puts up with anything,

Trusts God always,

Always looks for the best,

Never looks back,

But keeps going to the end.

We're in an unequal season right now, Nathaniel and I. It's hard for both of us. For me to give more and for him to need more. Yet what I need to learn, now and forever, is that this is when I need God more. He becomes what I need and only what I need. The excess that I give is more than made up by what God gives to me. And as we keep looking for the best, not looking back, not keeping score, God will sustain us to the end.

The big reveal

We didn't find out what we were having when we were expecting Zoe. Since it was our first, we loved the idea of just waiting and actually being surprised when the doctor announced, "It's a..." 

(Although to be honest, I have zero memories of that announcement. I only remember Nathaniel going back and forth from the foot of the bed to my side and at some point telling me it was a girl. But I loved the idea anyway.)

So with this one, we thought for about a half a second that we might be surprised again, or find out just for us but keep it a secret. But then we thought, no...let's find out. Our sonogram appointment was on Friday. Baby Lutke did NOT want to cooperate. The sonographer had me roll to one side, then lay flat on my back, then roll to the other side, then thumped my stomach with her wand. Thirty minutes of this. We had invited both our moms to come for the big reveal, and my mom kept giving me sympathetic looks as I was rolled and prodded. Is this a harbinger of a stubborn baby? Please, no.

But then, how lovely. We were able to tell! Hooray! 

Here are a few photos from Saturday at our veryverysmall  gender reveal cupcake fest. Thanks Jenny, Archie, Jackie & Steph for coming to be surprised. Fun, fun.

And it's a BOY!

In the midst

{source}

I made it through my first full week of part-time teaching.  It was a typical first week--filled more with lessons on how to behave in my classroom than lessons about Literature. I'd forgotten in my year off how long it takes to get your classroom working the way you want it. Since our first week was only two days long, in my mind I had myself teaching all my classroom rules and routines those days and then getting to work on Monday. Right. By Friday things were a little smoother. Not perfect, but smoother. We'd made it to the end of the week. Hallelujah.

It's been nice working again, but we're in the midst of a lengthy list of transitions. A transition for Nathaniel (a shoutout here goes to him for his superdad babysitting skills these past two weeks) being in charge of Zoe more often, a transition for me in getting ready for my classes and keeping up with all the other things I did before returning to work, a transition for Zoe in Mommy being gone more and having a nanny, and a transition for the dog--poor Henry is getting the short end of the playtime stick lately. And I've come to realize that transitions are not my favorite thing. For one, you never know how long they will last. I play a game with myself whenever I'm stressed or worried, and it goes a little like this, "Well, Carrie, it's hard right now, but remember, it's a transition phase. It will eventually get better." And usually this is true: it is a transition, and it will get better and easier and smoother, it's just that there's no promise of when.

So many friends of mine are finding themselves also in a phase of transition. For some it seems the season they are in has lasted for years. Waiting for something, or someone, or a little someone, or direction on a job or a move or just a new thing. And I don't know about you, but I've found it hard to completely trust God in all of these transitions. I think it's because so much of the time nothing is happening; I'm just waiting. It's easy to just go from day to day, knowing that things aren't as easy as they could be, feeling unsettled and wanting to be settled or for something to be decided. When I really think about it, though, it seems to me that a lot of all this is a yearning for life to be complete. If this, then this...when this happens, then this...and then I'll feel better, then I'll really know what is supposed to happen. But without transitions, there never would be change. Without change in our lives, there's no room for God to work.

My hope for myself and everyone else that finds themselves transitioning to something or away from something would find true Peace. Life this side of Heaven will never be perfect, but we can hold onto the One who is.

Heigh ho, Heigh ho

{source}

It's back to work I go.

I've accepted a part-time position at the school where my friend Brooke is a principal. I'll be teaching middle school Literature in the afternoons. I'm excited and nervous. Excited because I have missed teaching and working. Excited because I'll be in the adult world again. Nervous because I hope this is a good decision.

I have always taken a long time to make decisions. I have thought and rethought this returning to work decision. Nathaniel and I discussed it numerous times. I've prayed and asked for advice. 

I called my good friend Staci, who knew I'd been thinking about going back to work. The first thing she said after she heard my message was, "Are you still thinking about that?" This was the third conversation we'd had about this same topic. Apparently, when we were roommates in college, I was the same. Should I? Shouldn't I? What do you think? What about you? You? I wanted consensus on my decision. No gut decisions here: I needed time to think and ponder and think just a little more. I just want to be doing the right thing. I want this issue to be clear-cut, but it's not.

More than just making the right decision, I've been wrestling with what my decision about working means about what I think about mothering. Stay at home mothering in particular, because returning to work means I won't be staying at home exclusively. I had another conversation with another college friend, Sara, over Christmas break. (And as she's lived abroad since her second year after college graduation, she has a really great perspective on lots of things. But another post for that.) She and I were discussing my difficulty staying at home this year. I was giving her all the reasons it was hard. One, Zoe is a bit of a strong-willed baby. As a young infant, she cried a lot. A crazy lot. Two, we finally got her on a good schedule with two naps per day. But woe to the mama that interrupts or diverts her from those naps. A delightful Target shopping trip does not warrant as an interruption. Three, we live on a different side of town from most of the other mamas with babies we know. This makes unscheduled playdates not necessarily the easiest thing. Four, and this one carries a lot of weight, I missed working. I missed being challenged intellectually. I missed teaching, which I (not to toot my own horn) was good at. God created in me a talent for teaching. I very much missed this.

And for those that have answers for all my reasons, me too. One, lots of babies are strong-willed. Join the club. Two, this too shall pass. All too quickly. I'll look back on this time and miss it. Yes, yes and yes. Three, find friends in your own neighborhood. Okay. Four, you can always go back when your kids are in school. You can teach Sunday school.

The combination of answers two and four were the hardest for me to think about. I am certain that these baby years will fly by. I mean, how do I already have a one year old? And I do know that there are other teaching opportunities out there without going back to work.

I think that is is also about about my fitting into (what I see as) the mold of a stay at home mom and feeling like a failure for not wanting it more. It's also about feeling that I will be judged for this decision. The mantra of Mothering is the Highest Calling haunts me. (And this mantra, as it chants in my head goes like this: Staying at home is the absolute best for your children. Working outside the home means that you are putting yourself and your needs over your children's.) I've been told it's a spectrum of most holy to least holy. And of course moms that NEED to work, this doesn't include you.

During the Bible study I attend on Wednesdays, I chose not to share during this week's Fellowship time. Earlier in the year, I'd shared my difficulty with staying at home and how I'd been struggling with feeling depressed and trapped. All the mothers rallied around me, telling me that I'd soon get through this hard stage and how much easier it would be once Zoe was crawling, talking, walking, potty-trained. One mom even brought in her much loved copy of Home by Choice to loan me. (To her everlasting credit, she was incredibly gracious about it and told me that I may or may not get something from it.) One mom shared how she'd stayed at home, struggled with it, went back to work full-time and cried every single day, and decided to stay at home again. But what happens when your emotional state doesn't get much better and you still desperately miss working? And all this emotional angst on my part over going back part time in the afternoons!!!!!

All this advice. All these ideas of what is best. All this splainin' to do.

I'm sure lots more will follow as I process and pray and think about this more. I hesitate to ask, but please do comment.

Disclaimer: Moms that work...this is all about my processing. Please, please, please know that I hold you in the highest regard. Plus I'm joining your ranks part-time! Moms that stay at home...this is not against what you've decided. NOT AT ALL. Have any of you processed through part of this as well?

Blessed are the flexible

Many people told us that our first year of marriage was going to be hard. We'd be challenged. We'd fight. We'd struggle. And pretty much, we didn't. Marriage was wonderful and easy. We'd hear about other newly married couples that fought a lot, and we'd pat ourselves on the back (humbly, of course), and smile sweetly at each other and say, "I'm so glad our marriage is so strong!" And it was. And it is.

But this first year of being Zoë's parents has been harder on our marriage than I thought it would be. We've been stressed out by our darling shrieking ball of energy that is already highly opinionated and can't talk yet to tell us what she wants or needs, so she shrieks. And as the tired evening hour approaches, and the shrieking gets louder, the stress builds. When Nathaniel is stressed out, I get stressed out. When I'm stressed out, he gets stressed out. A well-known marriage series calls this "the crazy cycle." We didn't think we had one. This year our crazy cycle was born, and we named her Zoë.

Having a baby brings out the good and the bad in a relationship. The good is obvious: you see your partner being a mother or a father, and the emotion this carries is enormous. When Nathaniel comes home and Zoë lights up and waves and shrieks Dada, my heart gets all mushy. The bad is less obvious: for me, all the little things add up and turn into resentment. It becomes all about me, and the things that I have to do, and the things I don't think are fair. I begin to keep a running mental list of all the things I've done that Nathaniel hasn't. I begin putting my needs first. I get resentful: my desires and wants are more important than anyone else's.

I ran across a photocopied quote that Nathaniel's Mormor had mailed us several years ago.

Blessed are the flexible,

 for they shall not be bent out of shape.

I've learned this year that I'm not as flexible as I think I am. When things happen that make my list longer or cause me to not get things done that I want to, I am decidedly inflexible. It's funny, because this picture I have of myself is someone that is easy-going and rolls with the punches, but when the stresses of life come, I just want to know what's happening next and then what and then what. I feel this little ball of stress begin to form in my very center, and if I'm not careful, it grows into anger.

Learning to be flexible means learning to let go. It means letting little things stay little things.  It means leaving lists undone. It means leaving dirty dishes in the sink (horrors!) so that I can pick up the baby that has attached herself to the back of my legs. It means giving shoulder rubs without asking. It means not keeping lists of who has done what.

Lord, I need your grace to help me to not get bent out of shape.

150 words on...

Today's guest post is authored by my dear friend, Alicia. I've known Alicia since our sophomore year at JBU. We were both education majors and shared books, studied together, wrote learning objectives together (that our professor accused us of cheating on), traveled to student teaching together and were RA's together. She's a Navy wife with three beautiful children, and blogs about her life at Crazy Submarine Lady and is editor and writer at Today's Housewife. She also bakes amazing, beautiful, delicious cookies. You can look up her business on facebook here.

Thanks, Alicia, for giving us a glimpse into your life. Without futher ado, please enjoy her 150 words on the Seasons of life...

20 things I wish I'd known

As a wizened (ahem) mom now that we've almost made it ten months, here's some things I wish I had been told before I had Zoë.

1. Sometimes everything gets better when you sit down, put your feet up and pretend that there is no laundry to do.

2. Sometimes everything gets better when you actually start a load of laundry. And if that's all you get done during the day, good for you.

3. Sometimes you just need to sit down with your good friends Facebook and Pinterest.

4. Sometimes you need to just call a friend. A real one.

5. Lonely days are universal, especially at the beginning. Let yourself be lonely sometimes, but don't let it become a habit. Some days are simply bad days.

6. Yes, you love your baby. Yes, he or she is supremely adorable and above average. Make sure you have other things to talk about after you've discussed the above.

7. Everyone has opinions on:
      a) diapering

      b) potty-training

      c) sleep-training
      d) bottles 

      e) introducing solid foods (and making your own)
      f) working outside the home
      g) date nights and their importance

8. Because of said opinions, it's easy to feel overwhelmed because you don't have it figured out. Don't worry: neither do they, they are just louder.

9. It's okay to think about your pre-baby days. It's okay to mourn that you've lost some freedom (okay, most of your freedom.)

10. It's okay to realize that your baby is the best thing that ever happened to you. And it’s okay to come very slowly to that realization.

11. It's okay to cry when the baby is crying.

12. It's okay to not want to be THAT mom.

13. It's okay when you realize that you ARE that mom.

14. It's okay when you realize that you are YOUR mom.

14. It's okay to leave 3 or 4 pages of single-spaced hand-written notes the first time you leave your baby with a non-family member. Realize, though, that the babysitter probably will stop halfway down the first page. Put all the really super important stuff up top.

15. Important people in your life will have lots of opinions about you and your child. Just because they are your parents, boss, pastor, teacher, or Super Nanny doesn't mean that what they think is always right. It might be. It also might not be.

16. You need people to be on your team that support you. Find people like that if you don't have any. There's not a prize for being an island.

17. You don't have to be good at everything.

18. Overloaded diaper bags only make your shoulder hurt. No matter how you try to plan for everything, you can't.

19. Learn to extend grace to other moms. Everyone is trying their hardest. Just because they came to a different opinion on child-raising techniques doesn't mean they are wrong.

20. Quit comparing yourself to others. There's always someone more peaceful/ contented/satisfied/ talented/ stylish. You're perfect the way you are. You can do this.

And one to grow on: 

{21. Everyone struggles, even perfect people. }

Morning

Satisfy me in the morning with your unfailing love, O Lord, that I may sing for joy all my days. Psalm 90:14

Is there anything more satisfying than watching a baby and dog watch the world go by? They are satisfied and delighted by the simplest things: the recycle truck, dogs on leashes, a squirrel running along the fence, the neighbor getting into his car, leaves.

This world bombards us with so many loud messages (did you watch the Super Bowl?) and again I'm struck by the simple path my life has taken this year. It has been so hard to just rest in the quietness and simpleness. Lord, expand my heart to be able to linger here. Too soon my world will be loud and busy again, and I ask for your help me to breathe in deep the peace that is here if I'll only accept it.

A verse I've been pondering lately is in 1st Thessalonians:

And make it your ambition to lead a quiet life; 4:11a, NASB

Another translation puts it like this:

Aspire to live quietly;  PHILLIPS

From commentaries I've read, Paul was writing to the church in Thessalonica and there were church goers that were in everyone else's business. He was admonishing them to keep to the task that had been given them.

Could it be that I've confused busyness with significance? If I'm honest, my ambition is not for a quiet life, nor do I usually aspire to live quietly. Oh, I will do these things, but I don't have the ambition for them. My ambition is usually for things that bring me recognition or glory. 

Keep to your task. The simplest tasks are worth doing well if they've been given to you by God. For me, this simplest task of being Zoë's mom has been the most challenging. But there's grace in that as well. 

Practicing Contentment

Look at this face of contentment!

It's the 30th and I've been mulling over this post for most of January. You might have heard of choosing a word for your year rather than making resolutions that you intend (or not?) to keep. Supposedly this woman started all of this in 2009. Forgive me for not hearing of her until I googled "Word of the Year" this morning. She's a little too floaty-outer-spacey for me. You can even download her tool for finding your official word if that's your sort of thing. I guess I'm the last one on the train for this movement, huh?

I've been thinking a lot this month about what God has been working out in me since Zoë was born. Many words come to mind: patience, surrender, joy, contentment.

I've always loved this verse:

I am not saying this because I am in need, 

for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 

Philippians 4:11, NIV

I loved it because it was a good reminder of what matters. This verse has always been a nudge in my side to remember what counts in this world. What counts isn't things. It isn't accomplishments or recognition. It isn't having a house that belongs in the Pottery Barn catalog. It isn't even people or community. When life seemed not be going the way I planned it to, I would think of this verse and remind myself to be content.

This season of my life has been different and I've struggled with feeling content. Some days I am. Some days I'm not, and those days I'm acutely aware of my need to be. I read this verse again one day recently and something stuck out to me.

I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 

Not I am content, but I have learned to be content. There's a difference here. The addition of the word "learned" implies a process. The author isn't saying that contentment was something he always had. To the contrary, it's something he had to learn.

Right now I'm teaching myself how to sew. Nothing I create turns out perfect. I've had to rip out stitches and seams from every single project. And while I want my sewing skills to be better than they are, I know that they won't get better unless I practice and push through the hard parts of the projects (and use Google to figure out what overstitching means.) But of course each project is a little easier, because I've practiced.

Why can't I wrap my mind around the fact that living a life of faith also takes practice? Contentment takes practice. Humility takes practice. Putting others' needs before my own takes practice. Joy takes practice. Each day is a little easier, because I'm practicing all these things.

In 2012, I plan to practice contentment. What's your word this year?

Labeled, part two.

What does God label me? According to Him, I am many things. I am loved. Forgiven and chosen. Accepted. An heir to the Kingdom. Friend. Lost then Found. Free.

And so often, none of these are what I feel. There is a disconnect between what I KNOW to be true, and what I FEEL. We all have that, don’t we--especially in the transitions of life. Funny how after we graduate from college we think we’re finished with transitions, but life’s really one long transition, isn’t it?  I have a dear friend who has lived life with me through many transitions. She and I would often talk about what it means to live fully when you’re not sure what’s coming next. We’d talk about living fully when things aren’t working out the way you thought they would, the way you wanted them to, the way you hoped they would. And I’d call and ask, “How is everything going?” Her answer, “Hard, but good.”

Hard, but good. I love that answer, because it gives me the freedom to answer in kind. Yes, I know that God has blessed me. I am incredibly blessed. I have an amazing husband, a beautiful daughter, wonderful supportive family, plenty of food, a warm house, good friends. But just because I have all those doesn’t mean that I don't still feel dissatisfied sometimes. And it’s not that I’m not happy with what I have…it’s that I am dissatisfied with my own dissatisfaction.

What does living life look like when we are real about what God labels us? It means that we are confident in His vision of us. It means that we get to the point where we don’t need a label. When we live life under God’s labels, we don’t need to look to the next big thing. We can live confidently in the hard, but good, places of life. We can be honest that God is getting us to where we need to be.

Who am I? I am God’s.

So to quote Hillsong,

I’ll stand, with arms high and heart abandoned, 

In awe of the One who gave it all…

I’ll stand, my Soul, Lord, to you surrendered. 

All I am is Yours.

Labeled. Part one.

Something that fascinates me and always has is where I fit into things. How would I label myself and how would others label me? Who am I? Who am I compared to them? Who am I in relation to who I think I should be?

What got me started thinking about all this was a conversation I had with a friend a few weeks ago. She is a former counselor, now staying at home with her children. We were talking about the answer we give to the “What do you do” question.  When I am asked “What do you do?”  I find myself answering, “I just had a baby and stay at home with her, butIusedtobeateacher.” I find myself using my old label and tagging it onto the end of my new label. I feel like a cicada that has shed its skin and is standing looking at the leftover shell. Am I this new person or am I the old? Am I both or neither?

Another part of the difficulty I have with this transition into my new label is that I have these picture in my head of what a stay at home mom does and is. The first picture I carry around in my mind is equal parts 1950s housewife and crunchy granola mom. Clean house with laundry always done, dinner finished and dished washed, shower taken and hair done, baby toys picked up, carpet vacuumed; organic homemade baby food, cloth diapering, babywearing, attentive to baby’s brain development… The second picture is much simpler. Stay at home mom: two parts. One is staying at home. The second is mom. Both parts sound boring and stifling. I ask myself, who am I compared to others that have chosen to stay at home? Am I a balanced mix of stay at home amazingness, or am I boring?

Another reason is that I have attributed very little value to my new label and that’s why I feel such a need to explain what I used to do. Raising my daughter has tremendous value, yet it’s not enough yet for me to define myself by it. I desire it to be. I want to be fully accepting of my new “what I do.”

What about you? What are your labels? This week, take a look at how you’ve labeled yourself. Which should you keep? Which should you let go? Are there any you should add? I will be thinking as well. I think there’s a lot I want to add.