When Your Soul Unravels

Let me tell you a story.  Once upon a time I wanted to quit…everything.  I wanted to run away from my life. 

Defeated.

Overwhelmed.

Insecure.

Trapped.

That adequately sums up what I was feeling.  What a nice tidy little list. 

I was unraveling.

 

Regardless of how it started, when you enter a season of "unraveling" it is hard to make it stop.  It’s happening, it's real, and it doesn’t just go away after a good night’s sleep. Oh, how I wanted it to. Emotions jumped in the driver’s seat and stepped on the gas.  What was true and what I felt were at complete odds with each other.  

I entered a dark night of the soul.   Life kept moving no matter how much I wanted to find a stop button and I was desperate to find a way out.  Every day the heaviness hit me when I woke up.  Joy felt so far away.  I wanted to choose it but the lies and darkness pressed in on me.  Anxiety was so thick that it literally felt hard to breathe sometimes.

How did this happen?  How could I find myself in such a dark place when I have hope in Christ?  I thought I was so much more mature in my faith.  I thought I should be further down the road than this.   The “I should be” statements were so loud in my head.  I had a list of expectations for myself that was a mile long and I wasn’t living up to any of them. 

Spiritual dryness, stress, exhaustion, difficult relationships, lack of communication between Jeff and I, carrying more responsibility for others than was good or necessary, and unrealistic expectations of myself after bringing our third baby home in under four years finally ate away at my emotional margin.  One day a small statement seemed to break the dam.  This fragile dam had been keeping all of the stress, lies, and expectations inside the boundaries of my mind where I thought I could control them.  I thought maybe none of it was really affecting me as long as I could “keep it together.”  In reality, the dam wasn’t serving me well.  It wasn’t helping me work through any of it.  It didn't bring freedom.  It just kept everything trapped inside and held me captive.  As it turned out, the dam was weaker than I thought. 

So, what was the answer?  Memorize more verses?  Try to keep pushing through and risk growing bitter?  Take a vacation?  Just quit?  I wasn’t really sure, but I knew I couldn’t live like this.

I was desperate for God and for His Word to come alive in me.  His words were literally light in my darkness.  I yearned for Him in a different way than I ever had before.  When everything else in life, even good things, leave you feeling defeated where can you go?  I was so desperate I couldn’t even watch t.v.  Everything felt so trivial and empty.  I needed Him to speak life into my soul when the kids went to bed at night, or I didn’t know if I could face the next day.  He felt so far away but I sought Him with an intensity that I had not experienced in years. 

I reached out to some friends who spoke truth and prayed for me to hold onto what I KNEW was true even when I didn't feel it.  They stood with me and fought with me.  They sent me text messages with scripture, songs, and let me know how they were specifically praying.  They held my arms up in the battle.  This is the necessity and beauty of the body of Christ.  They were His hands and feet to me.

I also had a husband who was even more determined than I was to get through this together and find joy again.  He didn’t give up on me.  There was no “I didn’t sign up for this, so peace out.”  He stayed.  We felt distant and confused for a while.  We didn’t know how to walk this out together.   He took the brunt of it more than anyone else.  He let me say how I felt and didn’t get defensive.  He forgave me when I said hurtful things.   He showed me the grace and love of Jesus in a deeper way than I had ever known or embraced before.  He saw me at my worst and loved me still. 

He showed me the sort of faithfulness that made his words at the altar worth their weight.  He meant what he said that day. 

With the encouragement of a few friends we knew that we were in too deep to swim through all of this alone.  We needed some outside perspective.  So, one hot July day we walked into a counselor’s office.  To be honest (I mean, why stop now?), I felt scared and awkward about being there.  I hate that I felt that way.  Somehow I had adopted a double standard.  I wholeheartedly supported friends when they sought counseling.  I thought it was awesome, brave, and the healthy thing to do.  When it was my turn?  I thought it was because I was weak and not mature enough to handle my problems like a normal adult. 

Read: Prideful.

One of my best friends helped me fight back that lie with her famous phrase, “It hurts so good.”   She kept telling me that it was going to be hard, but so good in the end.  It’s the right thing…the hard thing…the healthy thing.  I wasn’t totally sure but I really had nothing to lose.  The other option was to suffer through it for who knows how long and hope for the best.

We walked into our counselor's office that day, sat down, and began to tell him why we were there.  I wanted to stay in that room until everything was better, but for some reason he had to see other people and go home at some point so we had to leave when our hour was up.  I had to learn patience in the process.  I’m a fixer by nature, so I like to get to the bottom of it and deal with it as quickly as possible. 

It took time to get to the place of real progress, but progress did come.  Freedom and joy made their way back into my life.  

Our counselor asked me questions that helped me identify why I felt so overwhelmed and defeated.  I finally realized that I was really the only one who had unrealistic expectations for myself. 

  

Here were some of my biggest realizations. 

1) The child rearing years are some of the most difficult years in life...but they are wonderful if you can appreciate them for what they are.  This is so hard to embrace in the middle of the crying, fighting, whining, sleeplessness of parenthood.  There are only so many hours in the day and so many years that I will have with my kids before they leave though.  There are some things that I prefer, like lots of peace and quiet and a clean house for instance, but have to lay these aside for a season.  I can have a clean and quiet home someday.  Chances are pretty good that I will miss the noise and the mess when that day comes.  For now, I have to let it go.  I don't have to become a slob but I have to let our kids be kids and prioritize relationship over tasks.  I have to crucify the thoughts that nag me about the dust on the end table, the dirty dishes, and the laundry piled up on my dresser.  This is intentional work for me because of how I'm wired.

2) Life is a process.  Laundry and dishes are just part of the process.   What has always bothered me most about those things is that they are NEVER DONE.  This is torturous  for a check list lover.  It was adding to my stress and defeat constantly.  This is the statement that I held on to from our counselor.  It doesn't need to be finished because we are always in the process of living.  The laundry will be finished when we are done living.  So, I started to look at it as part of the process of living.  Such a slight difference in the way I looked at it relieved the pressure.  I still don't like when I get behind and it's piled up in our room, but it doesn't have the power to make me feel defeated anymore. 

3) We can eat cereal for dinner and no one will die.  Jeff was okay with cereal for dinner some nights and the house being a mess when he got home.  I had a June Cleaver in yoga pants complex.  Since I'm home all day with the kids just doing nothing (wink wink) "I should be able to" make a decent meal every night for dinner.  Add to that my internal pressure/guilt over feeding my family all healthy things.  Organic.  Fair Trade.  Unprocessed.  Whole food.  TIGHT BUDGET.  TIME CONSUMING.  CAN'T DO IT.  I think you should do whatever you want to do with all of that.  Just obey what God asks of you.  I am going to do the best I can with the resources God gives us to steward.  We are going to eat our whole foods and we are going to eat corn dogs too.  That’s just where we are and it’s okay.  I’d rather have my sanity on a crazy day while I dip my corn dog in some ketchup.  I really like to cook, and while sometimes I would rather do that, there are too many little people that need me on some days.  

4) My kids are not a direct reflection of me.  I realized that when the kids were having a bad day and I could see it stressing Jeff out, I felt like it was my fault.  I had to stop.  Every person in this family is their own entity.  Everyone will have their own bad days and make their own choices and it is not always a direct reflection of how I am doing as a mom or wife.  I have my own bad days and make my own choices, and I am responsible for those as well.

5) Jesus is enough.  I cannot be every woman.  I have limitations.  I blow it sometimes frequently and have to ask my kids for forgiveness.  I wish I could accomplish more.  It seems like some people get more done in a day than I can in a week, but comparison doesn't help me one iota.  I can only be me and keep my eyes on Jesus.  And you know what?  I am aging like all humans do.  There are no exceptions to this process, only different rates of progression.  I cannot have my pre-baby 25 year old body back.  There is so much more to life.  I am loved beyond all of that by the God of the universe.  Jeff demonstrates that sort of love to me, but when and if he doesn't...I am wholly loved by an infinite, eternal, never failing, perfect God.  Jesus is enough in my weakness and He is sufficient for me.  He is sufficient for Jeff too.  

So, how do I feel about counseling now?  It was hands down one of the best things I ever did for myself and we ever did for our marriage.  I could have gone to those sessions alone and it would have been good for me, but the value in processing things together made every penny twice as worth it.  Sometimes we need to hear someone else ask our spouse a question and hear their heart.  It’s good to have someone ask the questions that we may be afraid to ask or just haven’t thought to ask. He gave us some great ideas on how to invest in our marriage (another post perhaps).  He helped me think through where some of my lies were coming from.  He encouraged our love for Jesus. 

I am so so glad we did the hard thing and walked through that door…and kept coming back.  We are better and healthier for it.  We still go see him from time to time for a "check up."  He is like a mentor in our lives.

I’m grateful that there are people who are trained and passionate about helping us get to the truth, deal with it, and work toward being in a healthier place.  Some people are so good at this.  Are there some counselors that I wouldn’t go to?  Absolutely.  There are some counselors that have different values or just aren’t good at their profession.  It's worth doing some homework before you make an appointment.  It would also be ludicrous to write off a whole profession aimed at helping others because of some who we do not agree with.  We have a tendency to paint large groups of people with a broad stroke of the brush because…it’s just easier.  It’s not better. 

Maybe someone reading this is in a hard place and struggling with anxiety, depression, or just feeling overwhelmed in this season of life.  You don’t know how to overcome it no matter how many verses you can quote or how many times you tell yourself you shouldn’t feel this way.  It’s not going away.  I can’t encourage you enough to do the hard and healthy thing.  Get a recommendation from someone you trust.  Make that phone call.  Walk through that door.   

What do you have to lose?

My Grandma's Tortillas

I love Mexican food.  I love it all.  I love chips, salsa (don't you dare leave out the cilantro), guacamole, black beans, rice, enchiladas, fajitas, pollo loco, queso, all manner of soups, tortillas...all of it.  GET IN MY MOUTH.  I could eat this genre of food more than any other.  I realize I am eating a totally altered version of it's true heritage, but it's just what I know.  I come from a long line of Mexican food lovers.  I grew up eating it often, even on some holidays.  This deep love for Mexican food has now been passed down through 4 generations.  The real reason?  Back in the 1960s when my mom's family was living out in Arizona my grandma learned to make homemade tortillas from a friend.  I'm not kidding you, they are so unbelievably good.  If you ever have the pleasure of tasting one that is hot off the skillet you will be ruined for all other tortillas forever.  Over the last 50 years she has made thousands.  She texted me earlier and said that she made 40 this morning.  She keeps her kids, grandkids, and friends supplied with this manna from heaven.  So, the bottom line is, she has to live forever.  She has to.  We won't know what to do with ourselves for many more important reasons, but who will make us tortillas???  I can't dwell on it.

Last Christmas Jeff and I decided we would at least try to learn the skill of making tortillas to make her proud, and to at least possess the knowledge should it become necessary to make our own someday.  If we are going to learn, we want to learn from the best.  She graciously and patiently instructed us.

First try at rolling them out and frying them for Jeff and I.  I'm not saying which one of us made the nice round one and which one of us made the wonky shaped one.  I'm just simply posting a picture. :)

Truth be told, Jeff and I tried to make these once by reading the recipe but it quickly became obvious that we needed a hands on lesson.  There is no substitute for being taught by the expert.  It was fun and I at least feel like I COULD get the hang of it…someday.  For now, we will still be happily receiving shipments from Iowa.

While I am on the topic of my grandma I wanted to elaborate on the picture that some of you probably saw on Facebook the other day.  I took the kids up to my parents’ house to spend the afternoon with both of my grandmas.  I cannot tell you how lucky I feel to still have them both in my life.  My grandma Helen (pictured on the left) is now 91 and my grandma Marianne (pictured on the right) will be 85 in a few weeks.  I know some of you don’t have your grandparents around anymore.  I feel that gap and loss with my grandpas.  One of them died when I was only a year old and I lost my other grandpa just a couple of weeks before Micah was born.  It’s hard to not know your grandparents and it’s hard to lose them.  So, please believe me, I know what a gift I have every time I get to spend time with them. 

 After dinner (I’ll give you exactly one guess as to what we ate) I sat at the table with my grandmas and talked.  We talked about everything from giving birth to nursing homes.  They can both remember how long they labored and how much their children weighed.  My grandma Helen's initial response to how long she labored was, "LONG ENOUGH."  Ha!  I can’t come up with my kids’ exact birth weight anymore.  How in the world can they remember that?  I was amazed at the details they could recount7.  I don’t know exactly how we got there, but somehow we arrived at the topic of growing old.  

 The floodgates of wisdom were opened to me.  

The first thing that I remember my grandma Marianne saying was that her mom (who lived to be 102) used to tell her, “It takes so little to make an old person happy.  It just takes a post card, a phone call, or a visit to make your day.”  She said she knows that to be true now.  So many elderly people are lonely.  Friends and family pass away before them and others move away, leaving them alone during some of the most vulnerable years in life.  My great grandma Mary lived with her and my grandpa Bill for nine years before she went into a nursing home.  She said it was so hard to walk away on the day they moved her in.  Both of their moms (my great grandmas) lived in the same town, and eventually the same nursing home before they passed away.  My grandma and grandpa were faithful to spend time with them there after they were no longer able to care for them at home.  

 I already observed this in my childhood, but my grandma described in more detail about the decidedly different outlook each of them had on life and the situation of finding themselves in a nursing home.  My grandma Mary never once complained about the food, her roommate, or the care she received.  She was content.  My grandma Agnes struggled with contentment throughout her life and it continued during her time in the nursing home.  It’s a cautionary tale to me.  Discontentment in our hearts never just magically goes away.  Even if you set your life up to serve your own happiness, and others do the same, no one will win.  The heart is never quite satisfied, or never for long.  The craving to make our world always happy and comfortable is such a chasing after the wind.  Those who pursue it the hardest are usually the most sad and discontent in the end.  She told me that my grandma Mary confessed to her one day that she would often lay her head down and pretend to be asleep when my grandma Agnes would stop by her room to chat.  She just couldn't take the complaining!  Not long after that my grandma Agnes said, “Why, I can NEVER find your mother awake when I stop by!”  It was so hard for her to not laugh because she knew what was happening.  I DIED.  These stories are priceless! 

When I asked my grandmas how they felt about the possibility of moving into a nursing home at some point, my grandma Marianne said, “Well, I’ve decided that the best thing you can do is just to accept it.”  I assume she learned this by watching the different ways her own mother and mother in-law handled that transition.  Accepting unwanted changes always takes time but I hope I always move in the direction of acceptance in things that I cannot change.  We struggle with growing old in our culture.  We fight it with every skin cream and surgery known to man.  “Never ask a lady her age,” they say.  We can be so insecure about growing old.  We do not honor the aged and revere their wisdom.  We foolishly disdain the blessing of being able to grow old and rich in wisdom.  Nothing can be gained by trying to turn back the hands of time.  IT CANNOT BE DONE.  We should take care of our health, but we cannot make time stand still.  If wisdom and eternity is our aim, why would we want it to anyway?

As we were in the middle of our conversation, her phone started ringing.  She pulled it out and said, “Oh, that’s just my reminder to stop and pray.  It goes off every day at 7:14.”  She immediately quoted 2 Chronicles 7:14, which is the verse that prompts her and some others from her church to pray every day at that time.  I’m sorry if your grandma is not this amazing.  I asked her what she prays for every day.  She said, “Oh, it just depends.  I pray for our military and their families.  I pray for our country’s leaders, my family, friends, and others I know who need prayer.  There are so many people that need prayer.  And I pray for people that are lonely.  I think one of the worst things in life is to end up being lonely.” I swallowed hard and should have removed myself from the table right then to go repent of my own prayerlessness, but I didn't want to be awkward.  She was teaching me so much without even meaning to…because she is just wise.  She can’t help it.  It’s just who she has become after 84 years of living life with a teachable heart. 

I drove home with a full heart that night.  I had been loved deeply, listened to, and taught in those few short hours.  I am so blessed.  If you have a grandparent that is still living and loves you, please go sit with them when you can.  Or, maybe we could go sit with someone in a nursing home near us.  Ask them to tell us stories.  Ask about the people they love that are living or have passed away.  Ask about the changes they have seen during the course of their life.  Ask them what is most important in life. Listen and learn.  We may observe a cautionary tale, and we may strike gold in wisdom.

It will probably make their day, and it will probably end up making ours too.    

 

What Summers Are Made Of

Summer.  The most intense season of the year as a mom. It's so much fun...except when it's not.  It's is always a combination of sweet memories and pulling your hair out.  And I would absolutely still take it over winter 100 percent of the time.

Because of this...

THE POOL.

Marvel's newest super hero...Pretzel Man.  

And this...

Our yearly tradition of going out to breakfast for Father's Day at the Mark Twain Dinette in Hannibal.  This is always more sweet and precious in the picture than in real life. :)

Super Summer...living with friends for about 2 weeks.  The kids don't even ask for a "real vacation" at this point in life because of Super Summer.  They love eating at the cafeteria (I'm slightly offended, but there is ice cream at every meal so...), being with people they love, playing with friends, going to the "morning show," and getting to see grandma and grandpa.

 And this...

Getting to celebrate this sweet girl every June.

 My one decoration for her party.  Majored on fun, minored on decorations this year.

  

 We celebrated with a princess Belle cake and Chinese food with just the six of us on her actual birthday.  The next Saturday Grandma and Grandpa came down for the day, followed by hang out time and the pool with friends.  This was her favorite birthday by far (she only has 5 to choose from, but whatever)!    

And this...

First family trip to Silver Dollar City.  It was HOT and the kids did amazing.  I thought it would be a repeat of  our trip to the zoo last year, but I was pleasantly surprised.  

Micah, Avery, and Ella all rode their first "rolluh coastuh."

Kelly rode with Micah so I could ride with Avery. :)

And this...

The girls got scooters to ride this summer so they can keep up with Micah.  They were obsessed with these for about a week.  Oh, the hours of fun and fighting over running into each other while riding them in the garage.  I have a love/hate relationship with their scooters because of this.  Don't they look cute on them, though?

We ended up not having plans for the 4th of July so we had family time.  It was so good.  We took the kids up to Stephen's Lake beach in Columbia to play in the sand and water instead of a pool for a change.

This was the day we grilled out and Ella climbed up in my lap and said to Jeff, "Mommy is my fav-uh-wit.  Fo weal in weal life."  Followed by a smile that said, "GET ME." Which he did. :)

They felt pretty big getting to light smoke bombs all on their own this year.

The blast from my past.  Avery got a slip-n-slide from her friend, Cordie.  They quickly fell in love with it...and then I quickly killed our grass with it while Jeff was gone and I forgot to move it.  Ooops.
Who knew grass was so fragile?  Not me, obviously.

Cousin time at Mimi and Papa's house and Rothwell Park!

Being the spontaneous, fun people that we are, my dad and I took them out on paddle boats.  
It was super fun to do together!

Having two grandsons is finally paying off, Dad.

And this...

The other "vacation" our kids love to take...the St. Louis Project.  They love going to parents night at one of the VBS ministry sites so they can get in on the games and face painting.  There are obviously no try outs to work at the face painting table.  Bless 'em for trying though. ;)

Our annual trip to the zoo!  No blow outs and no melt downs this year.  Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

The hippo photo bomber.

We have learned that L LOVES animals.  She loves them so hard.  It's a little overwhelming for the animals if she gets close to them. She used to be like that with babies so I have hope that she will grow out of this...let's all hope.

Jeff got to sneak away one afternoon and go swimming with us while we were in St. Louis.

I love their creativity.  They figured out that you can turn an inflatable chair into a "belly bopper."  They would run into each other over and over.  It was entertaining until someone would cry.  I knew that would happen, but I figured the fun outweighed the risk in this scenario so I let them go for it.

Plastic tubs will always hold a special place in my heart.  Strange?  It's just that I have given all four of our kids a bath in plastic tubs just like this one during The Project since they were born, until they out grew it.  I will be down to one last kid in the tub next summer.  I am also sending another one off to kindergarten in a month so I am without a doubt going to be overly sentimental for a while.  Just ignore me until I come out of it. 

So, that's it.  It's the memories, the sunshine, the time together.  As hard as the travelling can be with four young kids in tow, I know that they will look back on these adventures with fond memories.  One day I can tell them the stories they probably won't remember...like having to come home early from Super Summer because of major attitude problems, the bed time shenanigans I went through to get all four of them to sleep in the same room, the crazy things L ate and I found in her diaper, surviving doctor visits, long days, and loading/travelling with them while Jeff was out of town.  Someday, when they are hanging on to their own sanity by a thread during the child rearing years, I will tell them all about it while I sip on coffee in my clean and quiet house.  I will tell them that we all survive days we think we won't, there is more grace than we realize, and they'll miss it when it's over.  I hope I live long enough and close enough to help them survive it, too.

I love summer...because of them.