Daily Graces

So much whining, where’s the wine?

Published on July 1, 2015July 1, 2015 by KateLeave a comment

John will be 4 years old in a few days. Where did the time go? Cliche, but seriously, where did it go? If someone can find it for me, I’d really like to have it back. Though, if it’s possible, I’d like to be selective about what parts I would like back. For example, I would absolutely love to have back John’s first time he found his toes. He could suck on his toes like they were thumbs, it was hysterical. I would also love to experience again John’s delight when he finally let go of the wall and started to walk across the room. His amazement at his accomplishment was beautiful and so much fun (and a huge new challenge for us) to have a real walker.

With all those good memories are of course some that aren’t so great. Presently, I would be happy to let go of the whining. Oh my goodness, the whining!! It feels like every time I have to tell John “no” or “stop” or “John, you may not play baseball in the house, or give Clare a hug so strong she falls over, or push Rosie out of the way (after politely opening the refrigerator for her) so that you can get your milk first and proceed to spill it all over the refrigerator, the floor, and your sister” he has a complete melt down. Or, my personal favorite, flat out tells me no. Me – his mother! Oh no, that’s not how this house works. It’s all I can do some days to make it to bedtime when I can sit down with a glass of wine.

How I feel at the end the day sometimes, especially when Ben is gone

I’m not sure how I’m going to effectively, compassionately and patiently deal with John. But his whiney attitude has gotten me thinking. Do I whine? Or, to be a bit more sophisticated do I complain (but let’s all be honest, complaining is just whining with somewhat more articulate words)? As I thought about it more, I was shocked to realize that one of the first things that came to mind was a phrase that you may be familiar with: “I don’t mean to complain but…” What I’m really saying is “I’m about to complain about something, but I’m going to throw this little disclaimer in front of it to make it all aright and now you have to listen to me.” And, I hate to admit it, I say this more often than I would like.

God never said “Thou shall not complain.” Jesus never told his disciples “Guys, stop complaining about how many people are following us. I’ll deal with dinner.” God lets us complain.

What is complaining? Why do we do it? We complain when something/someone irritates us or when we are lacking something. When we feel something is out of order, most of us at least, will probably complain about it, even just to ourselves. We complain when we are worried, when we feel things are not going the way we want it, or when something is beyond our control.

To be fair, there are very legitimate times in life when a situation may be unfair, when something happens that we do not like or are hurt by, or when we are feeling under-appreciated.

Take this story from the Gospel of Mark (Mk 4:35-41) from a few Sundays ago. Jesus tells his disciples they should cross to the other side of the lake. That night, there was a storm. Jesus, apparently, is a heavy sleeper and doesn’t notice. The disciples are worried and scared so they go to wake Jesus with this fabulous line: “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing.” Do you not care is about as close to complaining as you can get in my book. Our pastor had an interesting take on this scripture. He asked us to think about the level of trust the disciples demonstrated in this situation versus how much they should have had in Jesus. Didn’t they trust he would take care of them? Why were they so concerned? They were, after all, pretty much all fishermen. And yet they were worried enough to wake Jesus and complain that he did not care about them.

Jesus’ response is excellent: “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?” Do you not yet have faith? Our pastor had another interesting insight to offer, one I hadn’t thought about before. Remember how I said maybe Jesus was a heavy sleeper? What if Jesus was only pretending to be asleep, waiting to see how long before the disciples faith weakened – a test, if you will. This was my big take-away.

When I complain about something, I am usually still trying to control and fully understand the situation. I am acting like the disciples – questioning whether or not God cares.

God does care. Time and again, scripture and experience have confirmed for me that God doesn’t simply care, He is wholly committed to my happiness. So, instead of whining about when things aren’t going my way, I need to let go of the problem. The harder I hold onto it, the longer I keep it to myself, the louder the whining. So, when I find myself whining, it means it’s time to take a minute, breathe deeply, sometimes have a glass of wine, and loosen my grip.

If you feel like your boat is rocking in waves beyond your control, maybe it’s time to wake up Jesus, maybe it’s time for that glass of wine.

Choices, choices, choices

Published on June 21, 2015June 21, 2015 by KateLeave a comment

It was awful. Truly, I’m trying to come up with the best words to describe this particular trip to Target, but they are escaping me.

Ben had deployed a few days earlier. The same day he left, Rosie started running a fever and had a croupy cough. Within 2 days, John followed suite and was worse than Rosie. We were down to our last ounces of milk and there wasn’t any bread left in the freezer (I get a little twitchy when I don’t have back ups). We were low on snacks and had eaten the last apple the day before. Our base commissary only has food stuffs and I had a few other things I needed that were outside the realm of bread, milk and cheese. Also, due to the fevers and coughs, we had not driven anywhere for at least 3 days.

Rosie was over her fever. John was starting to feel better, and given the state of our pantry, it was time to get to the store. That morning, Clare, of course, chose to cut another tooth and was drooling worse than a dog over a fresh bone. I honestly didn’t know she was capable of that much, it was pretty crazy. Anyway, you probably don’t need more descriptions about that.

So, to Target we went. We had skyped with Ben earlier and I told him it was either going to be a really good trip or a really bad one, not a whole lot of room in between. It started out good. Clare slept some in the car and seemed happy. John and Rosie were doing well. All was good and I was confident. About halfway through, things weren’t so good. Clare was over being in the cart and Rosie was upset with the amount of stuff in her cart (we need two so I don’t lose anyone). After finally negotiating with Rosie, she ended up in a good place, thank goodness, because Clare did not. If you can imagine, I got us to check out in this fashion: Carrying Clare while pushing one cart with John in the seat and pulling another behind me with Rosie in the basket. Still not sure how that one worked out but we did it.

I was in a foul mood when we got home. Clare had screamed the whole way home and Rosie had fallen asleep before lunch and I was convinced she had ruined her real nap aka my super necessary break for the day. I had to get the kids in the house, the cold groceries put away and lunch on the table as quickly as possible. I was also very hungry since I had forgotten to bring a snack in the car – I get twitchy when I am nursing a baby and don’t eat often enough. So, quite a grouchy mamma.

Long story short, obviously everyone survived. Lunch was eaten, Clare got to sleep (much to her dismay) and I managed to eat some left over roasted potatoes and yogurt. Eclectic but delicious.

After such a long morning, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to cook dinner. I wrestled back and forth with cooking versus just going to Burger King on base. With John not feeling well and Rosie recovering, I knew that that fast food was probably not the best decision, but it was so tempting. It’s such an easy choice. No planning, no dirty dishes. Not necessarily cost effective but certainly convenient.

We all know this feeling. There is the choice that you know is right, and the choice that is easy. How many times do we choose the easy way and regret it later. Often the right choice is a bit harder, it takes longer and may require more effort. Now I don’t know what kind of evening we would have had if I had chosen the easy choice. Maybe it would have been delightful – John and Rosie love french fries and Clare probably would have gotten some more sleep in the car. Maybe it would have been horrible – John could have gotten sick later because of the greasy food and Clare could have screamed like she did earlier. I hope, and I believe, that whatever the outcome of the easy decision, the night we had because of the right decision was far better.

I decided to cook the pork tenderloin that I had gotten earlier that day. When I asked the kids if they wanted noodles or chips as a side (hoping that chips would be the answer since there was no effort involved – still trying to take the easy way even though I know better). Rosie, bless her my chip lover, said noodles. Even when I asked a second time, convinced she must not have heard her choices correctly, said noodles.

Noodles it was. If I was going to make noodles for the second night in a row, we weren’t going to just have buttered noodles again. John and Rosie have started helping me salt the water and enjoy helping in the kitchen. I decided it was time to try our hand at pesto. We have two basil plants in the backyard and I have been meaning to make a fresh batch

since receiving a food processor for Mother’s Day from Ben. I love how much John and Rosie like to help in the kitchen. They enjoy contributing and being a part of the action. As soon as I moved toward the back door with a measuring cup they were with me, ready to help pick basil leaves and make sure they all stayed in the cup. Then, they helped measure and pour pine nuts and garlic. Though the didn’t like how loud the food processor was, they did like helping to taste and mix.

After that, the night went well. I mean, John’s fever was the highest it had been thus far and Clare proceeded to scream at me until she finally fell asleep, poor thing, that tooth was a rough one. But my mood was so much better. I had accomplished something productive, a decent meal. I felt renewed from earlier in the day when I believed I was completely defeated. One right choice changed my whole day. It doesn’t matter that the kids were still difficult, my attitude made all the difference. I am so thankful that I listened to the right choice instead of the easy choice. Even though I don’t know how the easy choice would have ended, I’m confident it would not have been as good or fulfilling as the right choice.

Recipes for those interested

Pork: I sprinkled my pork tenderloin with salt, pepper, garlic powder and fennel seeds. I then cooked it for about 20 minutes a pound at 425 in a roasting pan. Roast until internal temperature reaches at least 150, between 30 and 40 minutes. Be sure to let it rest for at least 5 minutes to soak up the juices.

Pesto: I used a recipe from The Food Network but I halved it because I didn’t have enough basil for a whole recipe and since it was just the kids and I, we didn’t need as much. The recipe is here: http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchens/basil-pesto-recipe2.html. The kids chose to use ziti noodles because they liked how it sounded better then elbows.

Enjoy!

Messy Faces

Published on June 12, 2015June 12, 2015 by KateLeave a comment

I love babies and how completely ignorant they are of their facial cleanliness. Clare really loves to eat and is especially talented at getting food all over her face. Some days, like yesterday, I wonder what got more food, her stomach or her eyebrows. She is blissfully unaware of what she looks like, happy to keep eating, laughing and making a certified disaster area of her high chair.

As much as I sometimes wish she would just sit still and eat like a normal person, I have to stop and think about what that statement really means. “Eat like a normal person.” What I actually mean is “Eat more like me.” Meaning: sitting in one place, using a fork correctly, taking small bites, actually chewing the food, not needing assistance, and definitely not ending up with pureed sweet potatoes down my shirt and across my forehead like war paint. But this is unfair to Clare. I am asking her to be something she is not. She is a baby. She is not an adult. It is unfair for me to expect more than she can give.

Clare, and all babies, are perfect examples of what it means to live life to the best of their ability. They do not know how to be inauthentic, to be sarcastic, to be judgmental, or to hold anything back. They live fully in the present moment. They do not dwell on the past and they do not worry about the future. They are not worried about appearances and are capable of unconditional love.

Yes, of course, babies are not capable of critical thinking, of complex decision making and a host of other things that are necessary for a functioning adult. However, there is something be said for the attitude of a baby.

I think that God is asking us to be a bit more like babies. A bit less worried about appearances, a little less concerned about the past and less occupied with the future. It is so easy to get caught up in comparing ourselves to one another we lose sight of who we are. Instead, we are focused on what we aren’t. It’s ok to get a little messy sometimes. So if you happen to see me and my hair isn’t perfect, the dishes are totally done or my kiddos have on mismatched socks, it’s because we are trying to spend more time laughing and playing and a little less time concerned about the tings that can wait. We only have today, today, it won’t be here tomorrow. I hope you find some time today to get a little joyfully messy too.