Goodbyes, an Irritable Clerk, & Me

I could feel the slowing motion as our little car rolled to a stop. My eyelids peeled open to see that we had arrived at AAA. Sitting up, I managed to get my hair into presentable condition. My mini nap while waiting for Jonathan to get out of Home Depot had barely taken me several feet out of my pit of tiredness, no matter how grateful I was for it.

The cumulative pile of tasks of the day trailed along  behind me in my thoughts as we walked into AAA. The last (last...last...last...last...) visit to our apartment of four years had gone well, although I had dreaded it so much. We had the final meeting with the landlord, and with a jingle all our copies of the house keys were in his hands. Hurrying up the stairs before he could have a chance to get there first, we stood in the bedroom which was once our beautiful nest, remembering so many happy times. "Goodbye, bedroom." We whispered softly. With a sigh, I felt a sense of completion in that "good" goodbye. Although I really don't like goodbyes.

After we finished up at the house, we also said goodbye to some of our dear neighbors whom we hadn't gotten a chance to say goodbye to on the moving day. That, too, I had been dreading. I will miss being neighbors. Oh, so many good memories. Goodbye, neighborhood.

Now this trip to AAA (where we aren't members, they like to remind us) was the 10th stop of the day. I was tired. 

Pulling open the heavy glass doors to AAA, we stepped in and went to the front desk. "We are here to get my wife's International Drivers Permit." Jonathan set Joy's heavy car seat down in front of the lady at the front desk. Blinking my bleary, sleepy eyes, I pulled out my drivers license to verify my identity, then sat down to wait.

Minutes later my name was called. After innocently starting to follow the lady who came for me into the administrative office area, I lugged Joy and her car seat to the correct cubicle. "Show me what you've got." The lady's tone was flat and intimidating, and I tried to keep my eyes open as I pulled out my license and two passport photos for her inspection.

“These don’t look like the same person.” Her eyes darted from photo to photo as I stifled a snort and peered over to join her inspection. "They don't look like the same person," She insisted. "Well, they are. They're both me." It was my turn to put a flat tone into my voice. What nonsense. They both look like me to me! True, both photos were taken on different days, and one looked a little more beautiful. I had to snicker to imagine her comparing the beautiful picture to the sleepy, half-grouchy me standing in front of her. I could just hear her thinking, "Where did that smile go?" 

After another thirty seconds or so of deliberation she had made up her mind. "We can get you two pictures that look alike for you for $14.99," she said. Thankfully, I didn't snort or even roll my bleary eyes. "Ah, I think I will take care of that myself and come back." I decided. <<For $0.25 at Walmart, too!>>

On the way back out to the car, I am ashamed to say that I wanted to fume furiously to myself about the cranky lady who wouldn't accept my precious two mostly-identical photos and who made my already complicated life one step more complicated yet. However, I became contemplative instead.

Transition can do funny things to you. To me, anyway. The more I thought about the two photos, the  more I thought that yes, the one photo looked more youthful and happy and the other one looked more tired and mediocre. And me, today? A look into the visor window was less than flattering.

I had to ask myself: what kind of person do I want to be right now?

If I were my daughter, what would I like my mom to be like? 

tender; spunky; interested in me; full of life
OR
cranky; irritable; selfish.

If I were my husband, what would I like my wife to be like right now?

caring for my needs; humble; willing to do anything with me
OR
grumpy; proud; full of self; draggy.

Yes, it can be easy to use the excuse: "I'm in a time of deep transition. Don't expect too much from me." However, as I look at myself in the mirror, I sense that God is enticing me to receive MORE of Him. More of His grace. More of His life and sustaining power.

Sometimes you need to stop and realize that what's coming out of you is the wrong kind of fruit. Sometimes you realize your need for the Holy Spirit extra much. Sometimes you find yourself being grateful for an inconveniently difficult stranger who helped you get back on track.

 Sometimes you find Grace in unexpected places.

This post is a linkup with velvetashes.com “The Grove” with this week’s topic of "leaving".

By Being You

I'm sitting here with my baby asleep on my lap as I type. Flowers sit on the counter as a reminder of yesterday, the day mothers are celebrated and honored. How does Mother's Day make you feel?

I wonder if you find yourself feeling, like me, that you don't feel your efforts as a mother and woman are all that amazing. In fact, it's all too easy to look at all the things that I didn't get done (dirty laundry piled in the basement), the good things that other women do and I don't (make my own yogurt and cheese - from only the best raw Jersey milk), and the things I wish I am doing (freeze ahead homemade baby food for my baby). As I put one foot ahead of the other today, just doing what's in front of me and (hopefully) letting the supernatural life of Christ come out, am I fulfilling my God-given role as a mother? 

What if I am playing a part in a drama that extends far beyond the walls of my little home? What if today I can be joining in with thousands of other women and mothers like you who are also embracing their womanhood and displaying the glory of God.

Take a deep breath. Take a look at yourself, my friend. What if today, this very day, you are playing a part in the big picture of God's glory? What if an aspect of His glory shines, not in the things you're doing so much as by your reveling in who He has made you to be, and walking in faithfulness to that calling?

I believe that there are ways we women reveal God's nature by simply being who God made us to be.

I am seeing with fresh perspective the way that in my female tendencies and weaknesses, beauty shyly shines; I fit into a picture that is bigger than just me. Whether in my relationship with my husband, children, or the Lord, I can glory in the way I am made to be.

For example, my husband needs me to need him. Deep in his psyche he has the God-given desire to protect, be strong, be a hero. We are a perfect fit. My weakness accentuates his strength. His strength, channeled in an honoring and caring way, meets me in my weakness and shows me love in a way that without weakness could not be.

If this wasn’t me, that couldn’t be him. If I wasn’t lost sometimes, his bravery couldn’t shine while grabbing a lifeboat and wading out into the rolling ocean of emotion to my rescue. If I wasn’t weaker than him, his strength wouldn’t have a stage to perform upon.

If this sometimes fragile, emotional person wasn’t me, that strong, stable hero couldn’t be there for me.

I take it as an honor to get to represent the church while my husband represents the hero, Jesus.

The nights when I can’t fall asleep and he stays awake to listen to my heart, we are a picture of Jesus and His Bride.

The times when, weary and overwhelmed, I am met by the strength and love of my husband, we glow with the beauty of Jesus caring for His Church.

I find fulfillment in who God made me to be, as I see the part I have to play in the big picture of God's glory.

By simply being myself, I represent part of an eternal picture God is painting. Just me. Wonderfully emotional, exquisitely fragile, preciously weak me.

As a mother I also am a picture of God’s heart for His children. When I get up in the middle of the night (again...and then again, stuck on repeat night after night) to feed and comfort my child, I am a picture although flawed of the unconditional love and tenderness of God to His children in the night hours of our lives. When I wipe little teary eyes and care about what feels big to a seven-month-old, I am a picture of the way God does just the same with His people. He tenderly cares about what overwhelms us, perfect and different though His perspective may be from ours.

The days when I give of myself over and over and over for our child with a heart naturally filled with love, I am reflecting a bigger Love from a perfect Parent...One Who loves us from before we ever were.

There are times when the picture of who I am is nothing like who God is. That’s because I am just a fuzzy photo taken with a shaky hand, a dim little snapshot trying to capture just a bit of His beauty and perfection. I am delighted to be who I am.

I am a woman.

I am a tiny little part in a picture much bigger than me. I feel so secure here.

My Sister...next time you think you didn’t do anything today, or feel bad about what you didn’t get done, maybe you can remember this: perhaps you have played a part in a drama much bigger than yourself by just being you. Perhaps your simple faithfulness has been playing an amazing part in God's Story that we will only fully see in the future.

Continue on, my dear friends, in loving those around you and being faithful in the little things. By being you, you are beautiful.

Photo from Pexels.com

And I Come

An enchanting Spring breeze waves at us through the bobbing window blind strings as we enjoy the evening city noises in our living room. Joy is sitting in the corner midst a pile of toys she's managed to tumble from the toy basket in all her babyish curiosity. “It never ceases to amaze me how she can sit there enjoying her toys for so long!” The thinker-me says to the writer-me, as my aqua blue pen scrawls line after welcoming line in my beloved diary.

“Aaaa!” I glance up. Clearly, the attention of my daughter has suddenly turned fully upon me and the distance between her and I. “Aaaaaaa!” The communication is more insistent this time. Like mommas specialize in doing, I interpret “Aaaaaa” as a perfectly eloquent way of saying, “Mama, I’m done with my toys, and I’m longing for you and you alone, please, Mama!” 

Laying aside my notebook and pen, I stretch my mama arms in her direction. “Come to Mama!” Her eyes light up with eager expectation, her body rocking her forwards onto her hands and knees. But she can go no farther. Stuck between the sitting and crawling stage, she has the will to go and part of the ability, but so far the best of her efforts always end with a collapse onto the softness of her belly. Heaving a gigantic baby sigh, she pleads longingly once again, “Aaaah! Ggaaaa!” Her large blue eyes fill with all the depths of emotion which a seven month old can contain, and stick their gaze to me like superglue. “Come to Mama!” I beckon, giving her an opportunity to exercise her crawling skills. 

Suddenly however, my mother-heart explodes with longing to cuddle my child. Jumping up, I descend to where she sits, her arms outstretched towards me. “Come to Mama!” 

Now close enough that it's actually possible for her baby-leg-surges to propel her into my lap, she comes to me with all the love she can possibly contain.

Rocking her gently in my arms, a beautiful picture develops in my mind, like a Polaroid instant print, except that it's a motion picture. Full of color, feeling, and life.

I am that tiny girl sitting in the corner, longing for the presence of my Abba. Feeling lonely and sad, I am missing Him. I am tired, oh so tired; such as only life knows how to make a human being. I am longing for closeness, for comfort, for Him. When I turn my face towards Him, I hear Him calling gently: “Come! Come to Abba!” Calling with anticipation: “You, sweetie, who are so weary and burdened; I will give you rest! Come sit in my lap!” 

My legs feel like they are stuck to the floor like cheese sticks to pizza. I feel unsure. The distance seems insurmountable. I want to come, but feel somehow that I can’t. Suddenly, my Father descends, bounding down to meet me right where I am. And I can come. I do come. Just as I am. The distance between us which befuddled me, He takes right in stride. He gives me the desire to come, He calls me to come, and He makes it possible to come. He delights to see me leap forwards to Him with the biggest little leap I can do. He is delighted with all of my love.

Rocking my daughter in my lap, her soft head buried into my chest, the beautiful picture comes alive in my being. 

And He comes...and I come.