Five minute Friday: See

Peek-a-boo! I see you!
"Look, Mama! Look at me!"
"Look me in the eyes when I'm speaking to you."

Why is looking so important? Why do we need to be seen?

The first connection I ever made with my son was looking at each other. I saw him. He saw me. It was magic to this weary, overwhelmed, immature and also postpartum-y new mama. I needed him to see me.

Remember the eye-contact game? You and your partner look at each other at a table. Then one of you ducks under the table and waits to make eye contact there. Variation: peeking around a tree.

Eye contact is powerful. It's magic. It's glitter and summertime sprinklers and hot chocolate after a snowball fight.

What do you see when you see me? Do you see someone lovable? Do you see someone you delight in?

One of my favorite Bible stories is of Hagar and Ishmael in the desert. "God!" she screamed. "We are dying! Don't you see me?" She'd lived her whole life at Sarai--oops, Sarah's--handmaiden, even going in to her husband's bed, and what did she get? The chance to die in the desert?

"God!" I scream. "Don't you see me? I love you and work hard and sacrifice for my children and submit to my husband and this is what I get? A baby who won't stop crying? When do I get to sleep?"

What does he say to Hagar? to me? "I see you. I am that I am. I am The God Who Sees."

I see you.
I see you.

I see you! Peek-a-boo!

Five Minute Friday: Opportunity

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

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Our dear pastor, preaching through Galatians, is in the midst of the verse listing the Fruit of the Spirit. He teaches us about one fruit each Sunday, so it's taking a while, but it is a gift to slow down and really contemplate just one fruit, instead of racing through such a familiar passage.

Last Sunday was patience day. The week before was peace day. It turns out that the week following the sermon is packed with chances--opportunities--to learn to exercise that gift.

I want to be more patient, but it's hard to be presented with 'opportunity' after 'opportunity' to be patient.

God keeps presenting me with circumstances that try my patience. Son J1 is developing his own preferences and desires. He doesn't always feel compliant with naptime,or snacktime, or travel time. So he pitches a fit, or whines, or fake-cries.

God stirs in my heart to be patient.

Do I take the opportunity? Or do I rely on myself, pass patience by, and make friends with anger, frustration, and yelling?

Five Minute Friday: Growing

GROWING

GO

So, I have this kid. A son. He's 6 months old, and he's just growing so fast! Every day he does something else that amazes me. He's so observant; he just looks and looks at everything, like he needs to fill up his tank.

He is getting closer and closer to crawling. Today he spent about 3 seconds on sitting up, propped on one had like a tripod. Then he fell over...but he's getting there! He'll get there so soon! (I'm a little afraid...then I'll have to baby-proof.)

Why can I be so content to let Baby take a big skill one day at a time, one tiny step at a time--and be so impatient with myself, with other adults around me? My dear husband is also a saint who is GROWING. It's ok if he makes mistakes, if he's incomplete--he's GROWING. It's ok if I fail again! I am GROWING. We who are growing have a loving heavenly Father who is delighted over each step, each tiny development we make...who cleans up after us when we fail. He forgives each and every sin we commit on our way to being glorified and perfect.

If I love Baby so much, why can't I relax and trust God to love me perfectly? Can't I just allow my growth to come as it comes, the same way I relax, enjoy Baby's growth and ability today and allow tomorrow's skills come tomorrow?

STOP.

Posted as part of Gypsy Mama's Five Minute Friday.

Five Minute Friday: Older

Older
GO

Do you remember that scene from Perelandra (by C. S. Lewis) about aging? Ransom and The Green Lady (and maybe the Devil-guy was there too, I can't remember his name...Weston?) are talking about information and growing older. The Lady learns something about God and, after digesting it a moment, realizes the fact made her grow older and asks for a reprieve in talking. She needs time to catch up after growing.

Growing older is like that. It's not a simple line graph, but more like the tide chart. It comes with experience, with facts internalized and incorporated into what was previously known.

Tide Chart

Line Graph

I wish growing was like a simple line graph. Wouldn't that be nice? Just a simple slope, always further up and further in. But it's not. Sometimes it's a simple, easy slope; sometimes it's a plateau with no seeming progress; sometimes it's a steep slope that we can barely scale; sometimes it's a cliff that nobody can climb ("The Cliffs of Insanity!").

Growing is also like the seasons. Don't we go through times of incredible fruitfulness? Days of slow, peaceful ripening? Times of cold, seemingly dead, lack of productivity, when it's so cold your fingers and toes just seem to freeze off your body? And then--sometimes it's beautiful, dappled mornings of delicate, blossom-on-the-breeze, green-grass-on-my-bare-feet, rebirth?

STOP. (Sorry about that...my timer didn't ring very loudly...)

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Photo Credits: Math Goodies, I Love Shelling.

Five Minute Friday: Beauty

Beauty

For many years I was under the impression that true inner beauty, that of a gentle and quiet spirit, meant that I had to become un-vivacious and turn into a dull, mousy slip of a woman. However, because the Bible commends a G & QS (my abbreviation for 'gentle and quiet spirit), I began praying about how to develop a G & QS while still being myself.

I am not a slip, dull, or mousy. I am headstrong, a hoyden (one of my college professors even told me I was the definitive hoyden: 'a bold and unruly girl." I took it as a compliment), vivacious, energetic. Blunt, sometimes pushy, controlling. But not dull. Never dull.

I began asking other women about the G & QS. Mostly I asked my peers, other college-age women in the same place I was in. I started observing older women around my, trying to figure this thing out.

Still, I haven't figured it out. But in the near-decade since then, I've been through many adventures. Some were grueling and wore me down to a nub. Others were exhilarating and carried me to heights I never dreamed. All, in hindsight, were God's gracious answers to my prayers about developing the G & QS. I was learning to let go (forced to let go!) parts of my Self I held dear, parts I never thought I'd release. I was learning new lessons and new skills, traveling to deeper depths of repentance over sin and anger over injustice than I knew were possible, tireder than I thought I could be and still getting up the next day to do it again.

And God has traveled with me.

Perhaps my body is still un-remarkable, but I see my inner beauty reflected in the people around me, and I am beautiful.

Five Minute Friday: Whole

Whole
The whole enchilada. A whole new world. He's got the whole world in his hands. Whole is an adjective, a word used to delineate or narrow the meaning of a noun.

So what? Why delineate? Why narrow? Why specify? Well, because that makes the noun better. It clarifies what is being communicated. It gives more structure.

I myself hate being delineated. I don't like being limited or narrowed. I want to be free as a bird, happy as a clam, a true rolling stone. But that's not the best thing for me! My task is to be specified and focused. A focused spray of water is more powerful. A focused beam of light? More powerful than a saw. A delineated woman? More lovely than the morning.

Oh Lord, may I be wholly yours. Delineate me, limit, narrow, focus me. Make me powerful to wield your double-edged sword to make everything you've given me to be wholly yours.

Amen.

Five Minute Friday: Home

An apt topic for this weekend's writing, as I've only just returned from a vacation from Parts West, from my hometown. How can I limit it to just five minutes?

Home

Home is where the heart is. If so, my home is with my loved ones. It's with my husband and baby.

Home is familiarity. That city, that state, that region--I spent my formative years there and they are my home as nothing else will be or can be. To be in my culture of origin--Colorado is so different from the South!--and feel at home not like an interloper is good. To smell that smell of pine trees and wind that comes (literally!) from mountaintops to valleys. (I remember Uncle Janis used to say "That's the smell of fresh air!" There's nothing like coming back from Away and smelling that smell again.

Oddly, I found my Mother-in-Law's house to be my home as well. We arrived there after two days on the road and it felt so relaxing to arrive. I felt at home. I dawdled in the shower. I washed clothes. I knew without asking where the laundry pre-treat is and that I was welcome to use it.

And now, in my own house where I've lived for 4 years, I am home. My kitchen. My bedroom. My living room. Here I am housemother, saimniece, hostess. Here is where I cook and clean and live large moments and tiny moments.

Five Minute Friday: On Forgetting

(forgive me: I've been away on vacation for three weeks.)

On Forgetting

I'm a forgetter. I've always been a forgetter. I forgot about Color Days in pre-school. I forgot homework throughout my school years. I've forgotten to pay bills. I've forgotten to deposit paychecks. I've forgotten my husband's birthday (although I had a one-month-old at the time). I forgot the time my baby was born (though I was high on morphine at the time). Like I said, I'm a forgetter.

I've had to learn to discipline myself to take notes and write lists and keep a calendar and keep on with those disciplines. I have to put effort into remembering responsibilities. Learning to lay off myself when I forget something important has been hard, but I've had to do it! Making one mistake, just one, doesn't mean I should quit trying. It's just one mistake. Keep trying! Keep working! Get better! Strive! You can do it!

You know what else I've had to learn to do? I've had to learn to trust the Lord's sovereignty. Is God not sovereign? Is he not sovereign over all things...even memory? I work hard and put strenuous effort into remembering, but if I forget something (usually an item from my grocery list), I can do without or get it later. Usually I remember just in time--and I praise my sovereign Lord for reminding me. I trust him to help me remember when I cannot.

Five Minute Friday: Deep Breath...

Deep Breath...

In, out, in, out. Deep breathing is calming, relaxing. It loosens those tight shoulder muscles and cramped neck muscles, the ones that are knotty from holding, feeding, cuddling, calming a baby. In, out, in, out.

Deep breath: every breath belongs to you, Jesus. You, Holy Spirit, hovered over the waters in the beginning. Father, you took dirt and made us. Jesus, you Inspired us, gave us our first breaths.

God, you gave this baby his first breaths too. I consider the bronchia and the alveoli and the Oxygen-Carbon Dioxide exchange and wonder at how fearfully and wonderfully made we are. Breathing, it comes so naturally. How can such a mysterious, life-giving activity be so easy?

Breathing brings life to each body cell. It slows the mind. It calms the heart. When I find my tension rising, my anger building, my frustration mounting, breathing (take a deep breath...in, out, in, out) regulates those responses. Deep breathing eased some of the tension and discomfort on Labor Day (the biggest, most changeful, most momentous day of my life) and does the same now.

Lord, when I'm trapped in the miry clay of my earthy, worldly self, I breathe deeply, breathe the breath you granted me, the breath you designed me to take while I myself was being fearfully and wonderfully made, knitted together in my own mother's womb...I breathe deeply and am reminded that without you and your divine inspiration, I am nothing but crumbling dust.

Five Minute Friday: Motherhood Should Come with...

Motherhood should come with disclaimers. My first disclaimer: I've only been a mom for six weeks and five days. (See, I'm such a new mom I'm still counting the days!) I was a mom before he was born, but this is totally different.

Disclaimer number one: motherhood is harder than you think. The crying, the crying, the crying. He doesn't speak English, and I don't know what he wants! The poop. The gas. The fussing. This is hard work, and it's more about unseating my Self as my idol.

Disclaimer number two: motherhood will slow you down. It takes time to get into the car, time to get out of the car, time to load the car seat into the grocery cart, time to change the diaper, time to clean up from changing the diaper. Lest I sound like a complaint machine, the slowing down is also good. There's time for nursing: 20-30 minutes to hang out with my boy while he eats. While he eats, we cuddle. There's time to rock him to sleep and feel his little body relax. There's time to sing lullabies. Time to shush. Time to cuddle. Time to pray. Time to meditate on the words of Scripture that keep me alive...I draw it in, as he draws in his food.

Disclaimer number three: motherhood will change you. I'm changed already. My body shows off that I worked hard to build him and bring him here. My stretch marks are in the pattern of a heart: see, baby? See how I bear on my body the marks of sacrifice? My incision is there, the red scar of opening to release the boy into his adventure. See, baby? See how much I love you? My heart already has stretches and scars as he barges into my life. See, baby? See how my heart stretches to allow someone else to order my days?

Disclaimer number four: (I'm totally past five minutes now, but I'm on a roll and the baby is quiet.) Motherhood brings a mirror into your life. All the work, all the soothing, all the feeding and the leaking and the lanolin, all the crying, all the diapers...all of it teaches me about God's perfection as a parent. If not for you, baby, I'd miss out of this depth of love and the deeper knowledge of God's love for me. Oh, how he feeds me. Oh, how he cares for me. Keeps me warm, keeps me clean, keeps me soothed. Oh, how I fuss at him...but he perfectly, patiently cares for me. Oh, the depths of the riches and wisdom of God! How unsearchable his judgment, and his paths beyond tracing out.

There's the baby, waking and grunting for food. Krista out.