This summer has been full of transitions. Transition from work to staying home. Transition from two incomes to one. Transition toward motherhood.
Jeremy and I have learned a lot about ourselves and each other this summer as we have been adjusting to life on one income. It's amazing how your values and priorities really shine through when you don't have money to buy everything you want.
I wouldn't say that we lived extravagant lives when we were both working, but we definitely lived in the luxury of buying clothes when we wanted them, going out to eat when we wanted to, going to movies without thinking twice, etc... You know, typical married-without-kids stuff.
Now, on one income, we are learning to live in the beauty of simplicity. Eating at home. Transforming date nights from full-dinner-dessert nights to eat-at-home-get-coffee-later date nights. The list goes on and on of things we have had to discuss, negotiate, and learn from each other. And it has been extremely beautiful and good for each of us as individuals, in our relationship with God, and our marriage and growing family.
The thing that I am most looking forward to about living on one income are the conversations that I have just mentioned: learning to value the eternal, to not cling to material things, to not value comfort or convenience over relationship or time spent with each other.
But also, it is the privilege to live in a position where we will monthly, weekly, daily be trusting God to provide for our needs - and to help us define our needs according to his sweet mercies.
Already this summer, as doubts have flooded my heart time and time again about whether or not I should have quit my job to stay home, God has affirmed (and reaffirmed) the decision with a quiet peace. And then, He has provided. Not everything we want. There are plenty of times I walk into BabyGap and see outfits (just on the sale rack even!) that I want but know aren't necessary. I don't buy plenty of things.
But the truth is, over time, there is such a sense of freedom and joy from not being a slave to consuming, not being a slave to buying into secular thinking. And there is SUCH joy when we pare down our list of things from "wants" to "needs", and see God provide so faithfully.
Cribs, changing tables, car seats, strollers...gifts given from God's people, God's abundant resources, God's riches in Jesus.
I remember my parents living in this sweet reality as a child. I remember going garage saleing with my mom and hearing her pray outloud that God would provide exactly the school clothes or bike or shoes that He knew we needed at a price that we could afford. And He always did. He led us to the right sale, the right house, the right store. Time and time again, we watched and waited as He gave us exactly what we needed.
I know people looking in, especially those who haven't been able to trust God as a Father yet, might view this as a shallow view of God, a view of God that we appreciate because He's giving us everything we need. Sure we trust him when he's making life easier for us.
But you know what, that's not how I learned to trust God as a Father. I learned to trust God as a Father by watching Him give me what I needed in ways that were really painful. I watched Him take my family through a lot of really awful trials - deaths, cancer, more death, depression, sorrow, more depression, more sorrow. I personally have walked through a lot of seasons where it didn't feel like my needs were being met.
But they were. And in the quietness of those moments when I was crying out to God for rescue from suicide, from despair, from depression, He was building a slow, silent trust - a trust that, in the long run, would come to know that God giving us what we need doesn't apply to only material things, not only to money. It means that his Perfect Plan is so redemptive, so beautiful, so complete, that even when the pathway is filled with suffering, even when it feels like everyone around us is getting a better shot at life than we are, even when "tears are my food both day and night"...even then, I have learned to trust that God is giving me exactly what I need. And through this process of trusting God to meet my needs, I have learned that on every level - the material and tangible, the spiritual and unseen, in relationships, in the unknown times to come, that this Father, this God of goodness and abundant life, truly will provide for every single need through the riches that come through Jesus.
And oh, my, I am just so thankful for community and being eternal known by this Provisional, Good God.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
August 27, 2012
April 7, 2011
soler
There's a verb in Spanish that is used to express something that used to be. I used to go to the beach. I used to run every day. I used to eat chocolate cake for breakfast. The verb is soler.
Tonight I am in a state of soler. I am grieving the loss of the person I used to be.
I used to be so many things that I find now are not a part of who I am.
I fear that I am losing myself. And honestly, I just don't really love the person I have become. I am having to get to know myself all over again. I spent many awfully painful, long years getting to myself in junior high. Those years were awkward, gawky, emotional and stupid. And now, here I am again. Having to figure out how to redefine and understand the person I am becoming.
I don't know what I want to be when I grow up anymore.
But I do know that I don't want to be miserable. I refuse to accept misery as the main status. And I know joy is a choice. And I feel like I have done a pretty good job choosing joy this school year. But deep cries from somewhere inside me hope that perhaps there is something that will fulfill, something that will make me feel alive, something that will motivate me to try and think and pursue things bigger than me.
I used to think I could be a writer someday.
I used to think I would love being a teacher.
I used to think my depression wouldn't be permanent.
I used to have so many hopes for the future.
I used to I used to I used to.
I feel like my medication, my diagnosis, and many other things have changed so many factors in my life. Chemically I feel different. Mentally I don't feel the same. I feel completely different in such weird, foreign ways. And now I feel like I have been left with a bunch of "used to's" and "if only's", which really, in the end, aren't much to hold onto.
Tonight I am in a state of soler. I am grieving the loss of the person I used to be.
I used to be so many things that I find now are not a part of who I am.
I fear that I am losing myself. And honestly, I just don't really love the person I have become. I am having to get to know myself all over again. I spent many awfully painful, long years getting to myself in junior high. Those years were awkward, gawky, emotional and stupid. And now, here I am again. Having to figure out how to redefine and understand the person I am becoming.
I don't know what I want to be when I grow up anymore.
But I do know that I don't want to be miserable. I refuse to accept misery as the main status. And I know joy is a choice. And I feel like I have done a pretty good job choosing joy this school year. But deep cries from somewhere inside me hope that perhaps there is something that will fulfill, something that will make me feel alive, something that will motivate me to try and think and pursue things bigger than me.
I used to think I could be a writer someday.
I used to think I would love being a teacher.
I used to think my depression wouldn't be permanent.
I used to have so many hopes for the future.
I used to I used to I used to.
I feel like my medication, my diagnosis, and many other things have changed so many factors in my life. Chemically I feel different. Mentally I don't feel the same. I feel completely different in such weird, foreign ways. And now I feel like I have been left with a bunch of "used to's" and "if only's", which really, in the end, aren't much to hold onto.
January 2, 2011
the same place
I wrote this post a year ago (January 4th, 2010), in which I took a look at my walk with the Lord and reflected on changes that I was seeing in my life. Part of that post included the following thoughts:
"I have been in a spiritual funk for...quite a while. I don't know why it happened, specifically, but I do know that my senior year of high school was the most alive I have ever felt spiritually. My freshman year was a struggle for a while (that was the beginning of severe depression for me) but still, there were some really sweet times with the Lord, and I was still fervently in the word, reading Christian literature, journaling like crazy. My sophomore year was even harder, with the fall of that year bringing about some of the deepest struggles of my life. But yet again, though there were definitely dry spells, my time with the Lord was rejuvenating, sweet, life-giving.
I never thought I would be here two years later, yet I find myself lost, not sure how I got so far off the path...I used to long for scripture. I used to love reading and journaling and learning about the character of God. Now I just feel very ho-hum about things. This is definitely not the way I want things to be. But it's hard to know where to go from here.
I'm not really one for resolutions. I gave up on them a long time ago. But although there is no plan or implementation process, I am indeed resolved to not be in the same place one year from now. Jeremy and I talked, and it seems that the best place to start is to just start being in the Word again."
I'm a bit discouraged to admit that the resolve to not be in the "same place" a year from then has not quite come to fruition. In many ways, I am exactly where I was a year ago: a bit weary, confused, uncertain, disillusioned. But looking through my blogging from this year, I can still see traces of God's faithfulness, confirmation that though this land looks very barren and similar to my wanderings a year ago, God has not abandoned me. I have to believe that He has not left me to fend for myself. And I have to try, with as much as my heart can muster, to believe that He is still the Author of this story, the Perfecter of my faith.
My hope is that a year from now, I will look back on this year as the year when I finally gained confidence (and maybe a little bit of insight) into the process of prayer. Perhaps also this will be the year that I am able to stand up again and take a few steps with Jesus. And maybe this will be the year that I see my heart begin to mend in the areas of hurts and disappointments deep rooted and difficult to sort out, issues that have kept me in this area of disillusionment and mistrust. Perhaps this is a year where I will see some change come about in this heart of mine.
"I have been in a spiritual funk for...quite a while. I don't know why it happened, specifically, but I do know that my senior year of high school was the most alive I have ever felt spiritually. My freshman year was a struggle for a while (that was the beginning of severe depression for me) but still, there were some really sweet times with the Lord, and I was still fervently in the word, reading Christian literature, journaling like crazy. My sophomore year was even harder, with the fall of that year bringing about some of the deepest struggles of my life. But yet again, though there were definitely dry spells, my time with the Lord was rejuvenating, sweet, life-giving.
I never thought I would be here two years later, yet I find myself lost, not sure how I got so far off the path...I used to long for scripture. I used to love reading and journaling and learning about the character of God. Now I just feel very ho-hum about things. This is definitely not the way I want things to be. But it's hard to know where to go from here.
I'm not really one for resolutions. I gave up on them a long time ago. But although there is no plan or implementation process, I am indeed resolved to not be in the same place one year from now. Jeremy and I talked, and it seems that the best place to start is to just start being in the Word again."
I'm a bit discouraged to admit that the resolve to not be in the "same place" a year from then has not quite come to fruition. In many ways, I am exactly where I was a year ago: a bit weary, confused, uncertain, disillusioned. But looking through my blogging from this year, I can still see traces of God's faithfulness, confirmation that though this land looks very barren and similar to my wanderings a year ago, God has not abandoned me. I have to believe that He has not left me to fend for myself. And I have to try, with as much as my heart can muster, to believe that He is still the Author of this story, the Perfecter of my faith.
My hope is that a year from now, I will look back on this year as the year when I finally gained confidence (and maybe a little bit of insight) into the process of prayer. Perhaps also this will be the year that I am able to stand up again and take a few steps with Jesus. And maybe this will be the year that I see my heart begin to mend in the areas of hurts and disappointments deep rooted and difficult to sort out, issues that have kept me in this area of disillusionment and mistrust. Perhaps this is a year where I will see some change come about in this heart of mine.
October 26, 2010
oh, babies!
Nope. I don't have baby fever. But I did LOVE this documentary - Babies. It's amazing, hilarious, mind-boggling and absolutely necessary for you to see. No narration. No words. Just scene after scene of the lives of four babies from four completely different cultures, living life as only a baby can do.
(Sorry that my layout cuts off part of the screen. If you want, here is the link as well.)
(Sorry that my layout cuts off part of the screen. If you want, here is the link as well.)
October 12, 2010
thanks.filled
A year ago this time I was walking through the toughest, most agonizing, most depressed season of my life. Tonight I was thinking about my husband, about how amazing of a man he is, about how thankful I am for this beautiful gift God gave to me.
What I love most about Jeremy is that he loves people so well. He sees me for who Jesus made me to be, the woman I am becoming. He has always fought for me, always held out hope for me when I thought all hope was lost. He is such a man of faith. Within the first two months of dating me he walked with me through the third most difficult depression I have ever faced. Two weeks after proposing to me, he walked with me through the second most difficult depression. Three weeks before our wedding, he walked with me through my bipolar diagnosis. And two weeks after we got married, he walked with me through the deepest, darkest, longest depression I have (and hope to ever) face. He trusted God through every season, and always seemed so thankful to be a part of my life, even when I was depressed and had nothing to offer. He always has treated me like I am a precious gift, no matter what the circumstances, no matter how helpless and hopeless I may be.
A year ago, we went out into the country on a therapy-date and took these pictures - at that time, I found hope in capturing beauty outside of me. That was the hardest autumn of my life, but surprisingly, that fall holds some of my sweetest memories. I have never felt more fully loved, cared for, or cherished.
I am so proud of Jeremy, and so extremely blessed to call him mine. Being loved with a love like this changes a person forever. I will never be the same.
What I love most about Jeremy is that he loves people so well. He sees me for who Jesus made me to be, the woman I am becoming. He has always fought for me, always held out hope for me when I thought all hope was lost. He is such a man of faith. Within the first two months of dating me he walked with me through the third most difficult depression I have ever faced. Two weeks after proposing to me, he walked with me through the second most difficult depression. Three weeks before our wedding, he walked with me through my bipolar diagnosis. And two weeks after we got married, he walked with me through the deepest, darkest, longest depression I have (and hope to ever) face. He trusted God through every season, and always seemed so thankful to be a part of my life, even when I was depressed and had nothing to offer. He always has treated me like I am a precious gift, no matter what the circumstances, no matter how helpless and hopeless I may be.
A year ago, we went out into the country on a therapy-date and took these pictures - at that time, I found hope in capturing beauty outside of me. That was the hardest autumn of my life, but surprisingly, that fall holds some of my sweetest memories. I have never felt more fully loved, cared for, or cherished.
I am so proud of Jeremy, and so extremely blessed to call him mine. Being loved with a love like this changes a person forever. I will never be the same.
July 14, 2010
ashes, mourning and the Answer to all of my questions
I have been mulling over the future quite a bit lately. A lot of our couple-friends are newlyweds, and one of the main conversations that comes up often is the topic of having children. When are you going to start trying to have kids? How many do you want to have? Have you thought about adoption?
A year ago, I would have said that we would probably wait two years until we started trying. I would have said that I wanted to have five kids, Jeremy wanted to have three, so naturally we'll have five. And I would have said Absolutely Yes adopting is an option.
But now, everything has changed.
Having children, which is something I have dreamed about since I was a little girl, always seemed like it would be such a natural thing for me. I knew that raising children would be hard, yes, but taking care of children has always been something that I loved so much, so having a family of my own has been a dream since I saw my mom holding my little brother when I was two. And I have always loved the thought of being pregnant.
Now, the thought of being pregnant is full of so many fears. How will my body react to all of the physical changes? How quickly after I go off the medication will I start to feel depressed again? What if I decided to stay on the meds- would it hurt the baby? Will I get postpartum depression? Will I physically be able to handle the late nights and tiring days of having a newborn?
Beyond that, I'll probably want to go off the meds when we start trying to have kids, just to remove any risk of the medication harming a baby, which could mean months of being off the meds.
At this point, it's becoming apparent that I will probably have to quit my job during pregnancy. I just don't know if I could handle being off meds, pregnant, hormonal, and stressed and exhausted. It just makes me so sad.
And adoption...adoption is something that I have wanted to do for so many years. At first Jeremy wasn't so sure about it, but recently he started talking about it, and we realized that he had had a change of heart. For fun, I started reading up on adoption websites about international and domestic adoption. And that's when I realized that during the screening, one of the things they check for is if either of the potential parents have a mental illness.
Duh. Of course people with mental illnesses would be flagged. We're unstable. The future is unclear. I don't know if that means they have a deeper process of investigation, or if they say No no matter what if you have a mental illness. Who knows, maybe God will surprise us and adoption will still be an option. But it still made me sad, realizing that our options are becoming more and more limited.
Here's the beautiful thing that my heart keeps clinging to, though.
At this point in my journey, it's looking like God's going to definitely have to be working miracles for things to turn out. If we choose to have children, God will have to support me physically and emotionally the whole way. If we try for adoption, God will have to open all of the doors and hearts of the people throughout the process. Either way, He will be glorified, because it's all so far out of our control. And we will see our God be Jehovah Jireh, the God who provides. We will see His faithfulness in new ways, and will learn that there is nothing on earth that we need apart from Jesus.
It feels like things are out of my control, but isn't that always how it is? Life is never in our control. It feels like it is sometimes. We like to plan when we're going to have babies, how many, what we'll name them, how we'll raise them...but ultimately, Man plans, and God directs His steps.
Do I think it's bad to dream or think about the future? No. But I guess I'm learning that for me, thinking about the future means borrowing a lot of fear and grief. So I'm learning to think about the future WITH Jesus. I'm learning to talk TO HIM about it, and discuss the options and alternatives, keeping in mind although this news has been a shock to my system, He is not surprised by this twist in my story. He wrote this story, and is still in the process of making things very beautiful.
That's what I love about Jesus. He is a restorer. He brings beauty from ashes and bestows crowns of beauty upon those who mourn. Well, here I am with ashes and my fair share of mourning. Now I get to wait and watch Jesus do His thing.
The other thing I have been thinking about is something my friend Renee shared with the college group a few years ago. She was telling us about a time in life where she had a very difficult decision to make, and she was worried about the future, what decision she should make, whether it would be the right decision, and what if she made the wrong decision? And after much praying and grieving, Jesus spoke to her heart. And he said "Renee, whatever decision you make, I will be there with you." And that was the answer to her questions. Not a specific This way or That way, but rather Jesus reassuring her that He would be with her wherever she went, that she was never out of His grasp, that He would never leave her or forsake her.
That is what I hold to more than anything. Whatever happens, wherever we end up, Jesus is there with us. HE is my inheritance, my portion, my cup. He is ultimately the one that we live for, the One through Whom we live and breathe and find all meaning. For today and tomorrow, Jesus is my answer.
A year ago, I would have said that we would probably wait two years until we started trying. I would have said that I wanted to have five kids, Jeremy wanted to have three, so naturally we'll have five. And I would have said Absolutely Yes adopting is an option.
But now, everything has changed.
Having children, which is something I have dreamed about since I was a little girl, always seemed like it would be such a natural thing for me. I knew that raising children would be hard, yes, but taking care of children has always been something that I loved so much, so having a family of my own has been a dream since I saw my mom holding my little brother when I was two. And I have always loved the thought of being pregnant.
Now, the thought of being pregnant is full of so many fears. How will my body react to all of the physical changes? How quickly after I go off the medication will I start to feel depressed again? What if I decided to stay on the meds- would it hurt the baby? Will I get postpartum depression? Will I physically be able to handle the late nights and tiring days of having a newborn?
Beyond that, I'll probably want to go off the meds when we start trying to have kids, just to remove any risk of the medication harming a baby, which could mean months of being off the meds.
At this point, it's becoming apparent that I will probably have to quit my job during pregnancy. I just don't know if I could handle being off meds, pregnant, hormonal, and stressed and exhausted. It just makes me so sad.
And adoption...adoption is something that I have wanted to do for so many years. At first Jeremy wasn't so sure about it, but recently he started talking about it, and we realized that he had had a change of heart. For fun, I started reading up on adoption websites about international and domestic adoption. And that's when I realized that during the screening, one of the things they check for is if either of the potential parents have a mental illness.
Duh. Of course people with mental illnesses would be flagged. We're unstable. The future is unclear. I don't know if that means they have a deeper process of investigation, or if they say No no matter what if you have a mental illness. Who knows, maybe God will surprise us and adoption will still be an option. But it still made me sad, realizing that our options are becoming more and more limited.
Here's the beautiful thing that my heart keeps clinging to, though.
At this point in my journey, it's looking like God's going to definitely have to be working miracles for things to turn out. If we choose to have children, God will have to support me physically and emotionally the whole way. If we try for adoption, God will have to open all of the doors and hearts of the people throughout the process. Either way, He will be glorified, because it's all so far out of our control. And we will see our God be Jehovah Jireh, the God who provides. We will see His faithfulness in new ways, and will learn that there is nothing on earth that we need apart from Jesus.
It feels like things are out of my control, but isn't that always how it is? Life is never in our control. It feels like it is sometimes. We like to plan when we're going to have babies, how many, what we'll name them, how we'll raise them...but ultimately, Man plans, and God directs His steps.
Do I think it's bad to dream or think about the future? No. But I guess I'm learning that for me, thinking about the future means borrowing a lot of fear and grief. So I'm learning to think about the future WITH Jesus. I'm learning to talk TO HIM about it, and discuss the options and alternatives, keeping in mind although this news has been a shock to my system, He is not surprised by this twist in my story. He wrote this story, and is still in the process of making things very beautiful.
That's what I love about Jesus. He is a restorer. He brings beauty from ashes and bestows crowns of beauty upon those who mourn. Well, here I am with ashes and my fair share of mourning. Now I get to wait and watch Jesus do His thing.
The other thing I have been thinking about is something my friend Renee shared with the college group a few years ago. She was telling us about a time in life where she had a very difficult decision to make, and she was worried about the future, what decision she should make, whether it would be the right decision, and what if she made the wrong decision? And after much praying and grieving, Jesus spoke to her heart. And he said "Renee, whatever decision you make, I will be there with you." And that was the answer to her questions. Not a specific This way or That way, but rather Jesus reassuring her that He would be with her wherever she went, that she was never out of His grasp, that He would never leave her or forsake her.
That is what I hold to more than anything. Whatever happens, wherever we end up, Jesus is there with us. HE is my inheritance, my portion, my cup. He is ultimately the one that we live for, the One through Whom we live and breathe and find all meaning. For today and tomorrow, Jesus is my answer.
January 7, 2010
books, books, and more books!
I am not only a lover of all things literary, I also adore buying and keeping the books I have read. It's like having a shelf full of old friends and memories that you can sift through when you're feeling nostalgic. I love the feeling of seeing a book and remembering the experiences, the changes you went through, the feelings you felt, while reading that particular book. I haven't really been able to get rid of books since I was really young. I did donate books to our church library once, but I've regretted it ever since. Not that I don't like sharing my friends, but seriously, I feel like I lost a part of myself by giving those books away, and seriously have considered re-purchasing the books, just to regain that part of my past.
Knowing all this, I'm sure you can understand why I am in love with these bookshelves.
[viaYouAreMyFaveJr]
Don't worry. I have already instructed my husband to build these for me someday. I might even have them be that perfect blue color. Someday.
Knowing all this, I'm sure you can understand why I am in love with these bookshelves.
[viaYouAreMyFaveJr]
Don't worry. I have already instructed my husband to build these for me someday. I might even have them be that perfect blue color. Someday.
December 9, 2009
choices
So we met with some missionaries the other day. They're here in Lincoln on furlough right now, but they are normally living in Peru, working with a Quechua people group.
They were extremely fascinating, generous, kind people who opened up their home to us and shared their ministry and their heart for this forgotten and cast away people group with us.
We're praying right now about what our "next step" in life is. We both know that we want to work in Missions. It's a definite option. The question is, when do we start stepping in that direction? We're not getting any younger (though I still am quite a little baby adult). I'll be graduating soon, we don't have any kids on the horizon (as far as we know) and we feel like this would be a good opportunity to start getting our feet wet in the area of missions.
The living conditions in which this family lives is quite interesting. They live in the city mainly, but ten days at a time they will trek up into the mountains (a 2 hour drive) to where their people group lives. They are still working on learning the language, and are currently building a house up there for their family to live. A one room house. No plumbing. A little stove. And an outhouse. Yes, that's right. An outhouse.
None of this phases me at first glance, but I do have to admit that on further glance, living with a little wood burning stove to cook on and an outhouse for potty time would be quite an...adventure.
The real question though is not whether that would be difficult, but rather how will I feel about live looking back on what we did with it 5o years from now? Because as hard as cooking with a wood stove might be, I can't imagine the heart break of looking back on a life wasted. I can't bear the thought of it.
It's so hard to live like a real Christian. So often I feel like I am just living through the monotony and routine of life, thinking about God occasionally, but not really making an impact on people's lives, not really building the kingdom. I'm tired of living this way, and I don't know how to get out of this routine. I know that becoming a missionary is a hard step to take, but it's where my heart has been since I was seven years old, and I just can't bear the thought of not at least pursuing what it would look like for us to move in that direction.
That's all. My heart is full, and at the same time not sure what to do with all of these possibilities. I guess we'll just continue to wait.
They were extremely fascinating, generous, kind people who opened up their home to us and shared their ministry and their heart for this forgotten and cast away people group with us.
We're praying right now about what our "next step" in life is. We both know that we want to work in Missions. It's a definite option. The question is, when do we start stepping in that direction? We're not getting any younger (though I still am quite a little baby adult). I'll be graduating soon, we don't have any kids on the horizon (as far as we know) and we feel like this would be a good opportunity to start getting our feet wet in the area of missions.
The living conditions in which this family lives is quite interesting. They live in the city mainly, but ten days at a time they will trek up into the mountains (a 2 hour drive) to where their people group lives. They are still working on learning the language, and are currently building a house up there for their family to live. A one room house. No plumbing. A little stove. And an outhouse. Yes, that's right. An outhouse.
None of this phases me at first glance, but I do have to admit that on further glance, living with a little wood burning stove to cook on and an outhouse for potty time would be quite an...adventure.
The real question though is not whether that would be difficult, but rather how will I feel about live looking back on what we did with it 5o years from now? Because as hard as cooking with a wood stove might be, I can't imagine the heart break of looking back on a life wasted. I can't bear the thought of it.
It's so hard to live like a real Christian. So often I feel like I am just living through the monotony and routine of life, thinking about God occasionally, but not really making an impact on people's lives, not really building the kingdom. I'm tired of living this way, and I don't know how to get out of this routine. I know that becoming a missionary is a hard step to take, but it's where my heart has been since I was seven years old, and I just can't bear the thought of not at least pursuing what it would look like for us to move in that direction.
That's all. My heart is full, and at the same time not sure what to do with all of these possibilities. I guess we'll just continue to wait.
November 25, 2009
thankful
Tomorrow marks a day set aside for thanksgiving. I never have truly been a lover of Thanksgiving, but this year my heart finds a new home in giving thanks for what I have.
I'm thankful for my husband, who loves me despite my failures and believes in me, choosing to see me as a woman becoming who God made me to be. So thankful for him.
I'm thankful for my health. Being sick with the various medications I have been on has opened my eyes to the emotional exhaustion that being physically ill brings a person. I am thankful that although I still experience health complications, that I am indeed, as a whole, feeling good.
and I'm thankful for my education. I'm thankful to be studying to become a teacher, something that I am (and hopefully will continue to be) very passionate about.
This year, as all years since my mother died, will be a little (or a lot) bit sad for me. I will continue to miss her, especially when we are gathered with my mom's side of the family celebrating. There is always a void that only she could fill. To be honest, I hope that no one is ever able to fill her void, for in feeling the loss, it feels like I am acknowledging how beautiful and amazing she was, and how no one will ever replace the role that she had in my life.
I'm thankful for my husband, who loves me despite my failures and believes in me, choosing to see me as a woman becoming who God made me to be. So thankful for him.
I'm thankful for my health. Being sick with the various medications I have been on has opened my eyes to the emotional exhaustion that being physically ill brings a person. I am thankful that although I still experience health complications, that I am indeed, as a whole, feeling good.
and I'm thankful for my education. I'm thankful to be studying to become a teacher, something that I am (and hopefully will continue to be) very passionate about.
This year, as all years since my mother died, will be a little (or a lot) bit sad for me. I will continue to miss her, especially when we are gathered with my mom's side of the family celebrating. There is always a void that only she could fill. To be honest, I hope that no one is ever able to fill her void, for in feeling the loss, it feels like I am acknowledging how beautiful and amazing she was, and how no one will ever replace the role that she had in my life.
November 11, 2009
morning sickness
Sunday night I didn't get to take my medication until later in the evening, like around 9:00. Normally I'm supposed to take the little-pill-that-packs-a-punch at dinner with food. But I was gone for supper and didn't get back until late to take the pill. That night also ended up being a late night for me. We didn't get to bed until 1:00a.m. AND then I couldn't fall asleep until 2:30 (the gift of being manic. hooray.)
SO Monday morning I woke up and I felt [literally] like crap. I drug myself out of bed, got dressed, took my pills, and got in the car. Jeremy and I work at the same place, so while he drove, I slept on the way with a pillow and blanket that i keep in the car for just such emergencies.
When we got to the parking garage, I was so tired I couldn't walk in. So I slept an hour in the car. Then I dragged myself in to work. I felt so nauseous and was [literally, again] almost falling asleep at the desk. So I clocked out and dragged myself to the "quiet room" reserved for such emergencies. I slept another hour in the quiet room. Then I dragged myself back to my cubicle. I almost threw up ten times, and decided to leave. So I dragged myself [notice a theme?] back to my car. I was so exhausted and drugged up that I didn't even drive home. Oh no, I slept two more hours in the back seat of my car [with my handy dandy blanket and pillow, reserved for such emergencies]. Then I woke up, and being too groggy to think of a better option, I drove myself home. I don't even remember the drive. [God spared me the potential catastrophes that come when you drive under medication-induced drunkeness.] I got home, dragged myself up the stairs, collapsed on the couch, and didn't wake up until it was time to go to practicum.
Moral of the story: don't take medication late at night.
Unfortunately, I didn't learn the lesson thoroughly, and once again found myself taking my pill late at night.
Tuesday = a not so dramatic repeat of monday. This time, I slept on the way to work, slept an extra 30 minutes before walking in to work, almost threw up three times, but managed to avoid the "quiet room" and the oh so pathetic two hours of sleep in the back of my car.
Tuesday driving home with Jeremy, I said: "it's just the weirdest thing. I'll feel sick and groggy all morning, but then all of a sudden it will just go away. It's just a terrible sickness...in...the...morning."
Kind of like morning sickness. Kind of like what pregnant women experience.
So here's the deal. I was 100% positive that this illness and exhaustion was caused by the medication. But there is this terrible little thought in the back of my mind that forces me to take a pregnancy test every single time I think there is even the slightest chance that I might be preggers. Here is the thought: I am extremely terrified that I am going to get pregnant, and not know for a few months. Me being pregnant while taking the bi-polar medicine could equal major birth defects. I hate the thought of being on these medications and being pregnant for any longer than absolutely necessary. Thus every time the thought even crosses my mind with some semblence of a justification, I take a test.
turns out I'm not pregnant. But I still am glad that I checked.
In other less dramatic/terrifying news, I am really tired of feeling exhausted and sick all day. And I'm really tired of NOT being able to fall asleep at 11:00 pm when I fall into bed. I will be exhusted ALL DAY, and then 9:00pm will roll around and all of a sudden I'm rip roaring ready to go. So.Stupid.I.Can't.Even.Tell.You.
I lay in bed with my eyes closed, begging sleep to come quickly, and think of stupid stupid stupid things. I try to pray, but my thoughts get interrupted by crazy thoughts like "what if I got pregnant on one day, and then got pregnant again the next day and ended up having that crazy twins-from-separate-conception thing?"
Extremely practical and helpful to hypothesize, am I right?
thanks mania. You're super great. Please stay forever.
On a more positive note, I have been extremely inspired and motivated during the 2 hours that I am not dealing with extreme illness caused by medication. These 2 hours usually lead me to great acts of cleaning, laundry doing, blog writing and homework doing. It's possible that I might actually get through this semester, thanks to my awesome little manic high. [let's hear it for the silver lining, right folks?]
That's the extent of the ramblings for this evening.
Except for one final thought.
I am so extremely humiliated at the thought that 2 weeks from now, I will look back at this post and realize that it was indeed the very insane ramblings of an very-almost-insane person. Sad thought. But I'm going to just listen to my cute little manic voice right now, which is telling me that this is indeed the most brilliant thing I have ever written.
ta-da.
the end.
SO Monday morning I woke up and I felt [literally] like crap. I drug myself out of bed, got dressed, took my pills, and got in the car. Jeremy and I work at the same place, so while he drove, I slept on the way with a pillow and blanket that i keep in the car for just such emergencies.
When we got to the parking garage, I was so tired I couldn't walk in. So I slept an hour in the car. Then I dragged myself in to work. I felt so nauseous and was [literally, again] almost falling asleep at the desk. So I clocked out and dragged myself to the "quiet room" reserved for such emergencies. I slept another hour in the quiet room. Then I dragged myself back to my cubicle. I almost threw up ten times, and decided to leave. So I dragged myself [notice a theme?] back to my car. I was so exhausted and drugged up that I didn't even drive home. Oh no, I slept two more hours in the back seat of my car [with my handy dandy blanket and pillow, reserved for such emergencies]. Then I woke up, and being too groggy to think of a better option, I drove myself home. I don't even remember the drive. [God spared me the potential catastrophes that come when you drive under medication-induced drunkeness.] I got home, dragged myself up the stairs, collapsed on the couch, and didn't wake up until it was time to go to practicum.
Moral of the story: don't take medication late at night.
Unfortunately, I didn't learn the lesson thoroughly, and once again found myself taking my pill late at night.
Tuesday = a not so dramatic repeat of monday. This time, I slept on the way to work, slept an extra 30 minutes before walking in to work, almost threw up three times, but managed to avoid the "quiet room" and the oh so pathetic two hours of sleep in the back of my car.
Tuesday driving home with Jeremy, I said: "it's just the weirdest thing. I'll feel sick and groggy all morning, but then all of a sudden it will just go away. It's just a terrible sickness...in...the...morning."
Kind of like morning sickness. Kind of like what pregnant women experience.
So here's the deal. I was 100% positive that this illness and exhaustion was caused by the medication. But there is this terrible little thought in the back of my mind that forces me to take a pregnancy test every single time I think there is even the slightest chance that I might be preggers. Here is the thought: I am extremely terrified that I am going to get pregnant, and not know for a few months. Me being pregnant while taking the bi-polar medicine could equal major birth defects. I hate the thought of being on these medications and being pregnant for any longer than absolutely necessary. Thus every time the thought even crosses my mind with some semblence of a justification, I take a test.
turns out I'm not pregnant. But I still am glad that I checked.
In other less dramatic/terrifying news, I am really tired of feeling exhausted and sick all day. And I'm really tired of NOT being able to fall asleep at 11:00 pm when I fall into bed. I will be exhusted ALL DAY, and then 9:00pm will roll around and all of a sudden I'm rip roaring ready to go. So.Stupid.I.Can't.Even.Tell.You.
I lay in bed with my eyes closed, begging sleep to come quickly, and think of stupid stupid stupid things. I try to pray, but my thoughts get interrupted by crazy thoughts like "what if I got pregnant on one day, and then got pregnant again the next day and ended up having that crazy twins-from-separate-conception thing?"
Extremely practical and helpful to hypothesize, am I right?
thanks mania. You're super great. Please stay forever.
On a more positive note, I have been extremely inspired and motivated during the 2 hours that I am not dealing with extreme illness caused by medication. These 2 hours usually lead me to great acts of cleaning, laundry doing, blog writing and homework doing. It's possible that I might actually get through this semester, thanks to my awesome little manic high. [let's hear it for the silver lining, right folks?]
That's the extent of the ramblings for this evening.
Except for one final thought.
I am so extremely humiliated at the thought that 2 weeks from now, I will look back at this post and realize that it was indeed the very insane ramblings of an very-almost-insane person. Sad thought. But I'm going to just listen to my cute little manic voice right now, which is telling me that this is indeed the most brilliant thing I have ever written.
ta-da.
the end.
October 15, 2009
community
I've been struggling with the concept of community lately. I find the definition generally provided by the Church to be weak at best. Is gathering with a group of believers really the definition of community? Even if the only thing we talk about is how much we like the decorating, or what type of invitations so-and-so is using for their wedding? Is that community?
What about all of us sitting around with our Bibles, talking about a passage, trying to figure out what it means. Is that community? Or does community actually entail something deeper, something raw, something honest? Can there be community if people don't talk about their stuff honestly? Is there true, God-honoring community when people pretend that all of this stuff makes sense?
I find it hard to be around Christians sometimes. Hard because I don't get prayer like they seem to. I guess I don't have the faith that it takes to talk flippantly about struggles of the past, as if that's the biggest struggle we'll ever face. I don't believe with all of my heart that God hears us. Oh, I know that He hears us...but I don't know it in my heart, in a way that brings comfort like it does to others. Apparently no one else struggles with wondering whether the Bible that we have is accurate, or whether we really have the ability to sit down in our ignorance and determine what the author was trying to say without any prior training or knowledge of the culture, language or history of the book. Apparently I'm the only one.
But if I'm not the only one, then why are people so afraid to say it? Why can't we all be honest about this and finally get to the root of issues? Why are people even afraid to admit that they have issues? I don't get it. And I have a hard time connecting with people when I share my heart honestly, bear our junk before others, and they all just smile and nod knowingly and reassure me that "they're here for me." As if they are the helpers and I am the one in need.
Oh God, please save me from safe Christianity. I don't want to life another day pretending to have it all together. I'd rather be raw and messy than a tidy-sit-in-my-corner-and-pray Christian. Please help me to love radically even those that make it difficult to call myself a Christian.
What about all of us sitting around with our Bibles, talking about a passage, trying to figure out what it means. Is that community? Or does community actually entail something deeper, something raw, something honest? Can there be community if people don't talk about their stuff honestly? Is there true, God-honoring community when people pretend that all of this stuff makes sense?
I find it hard to be around Christians sometimes. Hard because I don't get prayer like they seem to. I guess I don't have the faith that it takes to talk flippantly about struggles of the past, as if that's the biggest struggle we'll ever face. I don't believe with all of my heart that God hears us. Oh, I know that He hears us...but I don't know it in my heart, in a way that brings comfort like it does to others. Apparently no one else struggles with wondering whether the Bible that we have is accurate, or whether we really have the ability to sit down in our ignorance and determine what the author was trying to say without any prior training or knowledge of the culture, language or history of the book. Apparently I'm the only one.
But if I'm not the only one, then why are people so afraid to say it? Why can't we all be honest about this and finally get to the root of issues? Why are people even afraid to admit that they have issues? I don't get it. And I have a hard time connecting with people when I share my heart honestly, bear our junk before others, and they all just smile and nod knowingly and reassure me that "they're here for me." As if they are the helpers and I am the one in need.
Oh God, please save me from safe Christianity. I don't want to life another day pretending to have it all together. I'd rather be raw and messy than a tidy-sit-in-my-corner-and-pray Christian. Please help me to love radically even those that make it difficult to call myself a Christian.
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