it takes a village

lately i've been seeing so much of myself in benton.  i see me in the way he loves to be held and cuddled.  i see me in the way he struggles to just be. in the way he always wants to be doing something. in the way he likes to go to bed early.  in the way he wants to be left alone when he's tired.  in the way he gets so incredibly frustrated when things don't go exactly the way he envisions. in the way he needs other people to write stories for him.  in the way his eyes light up when he sees derek smile.  in the way he throws a fit when people don't want to do what he wants to do.  in the way he wants to be near the people he loves.  in the way he is unsure about big crowds of people.  in the way he is at peace in the familiar.  

i'm realizing that this is going to be an incredibly humbling part of parenting.  to see the good and bad of yourself reflected in someone else is a crazy thing.  more than ever before, it makes me want to be more of the good and less of the bad.

and it makes me incredibly thankful that he has two parents.  i see how benton desperately needs the balance between us.  he needs my calm and derek's crazy.  my stability and derek's unpredictability.  my logic and derek's dreams.  my peace and derek's excitement.  my schedule and derek's flexibility.  my efficiency and derek's rest. he needs derek to show him what it means to write his own story and me to show him what it means to be a part of good stories that others are writing.  he needs me to teach him how to plan and derek to show him the importance of letting plans change.  he needs me to show him how to make to do lists and derek to show him how to throw to do lists in the trash and just enjoy life sometimes.  he needs me to provide structure to his days and derek to keep him on the edge of his seat. 

and beyond that it makes me realize the true importance of raising kids in community.  derek and i each have unique things to offer him but that is not enough.  i want benton to grow up seeing jesus in all sorts of different ways in all sorts of different people.  my prayer is that benton learns to see jesus in everyone around him and becomes what he sees.

the gigantic spider in the basement vs me and the swiffer

let me preface this post by acknowledging that this could make me sound like a girly girl drama queen which i would like to think that i'm not but maybe am more than i think.  so in true drama queen fashion i will start by saying, "i'm not exaggerating this story"...but seriously, i'm not...

so i go down to the basement to switch the laundry tonight and am confronted by a spider (enter drama queen: biggest spider i've ever seen in my life) standing in the middle of the floor (just staring me down with it's beady eyes).  i could have killed it right then.  there were plenty of things within my reach to smash it with and it was in the wide open space (standing there so vulnerably).  but i froze and then i ran (ran for my life, it could have killed me).  so then i did what i'd like to think most wives do and called my husband, seeing as he could quite easily remedy the situation as he was driving down the highway 20 minutes away.   so he responded as probably most husbands do and said, "well can't you kill it?" i hung up the phone and being in a little more rational state of mind at this point, i pondered the idea and figured i could man up and do it, armed with the swiffer so i could stay out of arm's reach (of the oh so deadly spider).  so the swiffer and i headed downstairs and i foolishly expected the spider to be sitting there in the middle of the laundry room where i left it just waiting for me to come with a weapon.  but of course it wasn't.  so i retreated again fearing the uncertainty of its location.  and then i gathered up the courage to enter the laundry room and begin the search (oh so cautiously, so it didn't come spinning down from a web on the ceiling to make a surprise landing on my head).  since i'm being brutally honest, i will admit to multiple retreats out of the laundry room to take deep breaths and rationalize with myself that the spider was not crawling on me...then armed with a new breath of confidence i would re-enter (the battlefield).  finally i found it (lurking in the shadows) behind the water heater).  it wasn't in the most ideal position for execution with the swiffer but i decided i better give it a shot since i let the last opportunity pass me by. so i did.  but as i was poised with the swiffer in hand (looming over the spider's hairy head), i flinched.  which gave the spider just enough time to flee the scene and scurry under cover, well out of reach of the swiffer.  well now it was agitated so i went fleeing upstairs (barely escaping alive).  i'd like to say i've regrouped and won the battle but i haven't.  the spider is still down there (looming in shadows, or more likely making a home in my clean basket of clothes that i left when i fled).  and i am sitting upstairs (thinking about how the spider could make it's way up the stairs and into my peacefully sleeping child's crib for a midnight attack).

believe it or not there's a point to this story.  conflict seems to be the theme of my life right now.  i don't think i can name an area of my life that hasn't recently had serious conflict.  not bad conflict. conflict that makes me confront and grow and be humble and learn grace.  but conflict none the less.  and this story exemplifies my approach to it:  conflict appears with an obvious solution. i reflexively run from the confrontation.  i process and gather courage.  i go back ready to confront and take the easy solution. the situation has changed and the easy solution is no longer an option.  i retreat again.  the consequences grow irrationally in my head.  a small conflict snowballs into a much bigger mess.  and i'm left with the (looming) spider in the basement.

what i'm learning is the importance of confronting the conflict (the hairy black spider) before it grows (flees under the water heater).

spider analogy aside, i'm also learning the importance of grace.  the importance of true humility.  the importance of being able to give a genuine apology with no strings attached.  to acknowledge, take ownership for and confront my crap regardless of whether the other person does the same.  to reject the desire to make people pay for their wrongs.  to deny my inclination to keep score.  to forgive honestly and freely.  to show grace because i realize i am so in need of the same grace.

the basement

What I'm beginning to realize is that most things aren't about what they seem to be at first glance. I'd say the majority of the time the smaller issues represent bigger heart issues. Case in point: the basement. Right now it's dingy, old carpet, popcorn ceiling, cracked paint. But we have a great vision. A huge sectional, a couple tvs, new paint, a kid play space, new carpet...a sweet place to hang out with our friends and watch chiefs games. And more than it being a vision of material things, it's a vision of good community with friends we love in kc. And that part of it is good...so good.. In fact the reason we've been longing to come back to kc good. But then there's the other part of it. The part of me that is the always wanting something more part. I'm realizing that we'll always have "the basement". We'll finish the basement eventually..and then it will be a deck or some other escapade. And I'm realizing that that's just life. I think vision and dreams of what could be are a great thing and often a good motivating force. I think God has created us to dream and dream big. So I welcome them, I do dream about a cozy basement with our friends, sharing food and watching sports. But I also want to embrace now and be overwhelming thankful for what we have. I choose to see the good now. I choose to see the dreams already fulfilled rather than being consumed only by the ones to come. So for this chiefs season we'll be in our living room, still with our friends, still with good community and incredibly thankful for the dream we are already living.

goodbyes

my heart is heavy today.  transition is always a hard thing.  i feel like the past few seasons of transition in our lives have been especially bittersweet.  we have been walking into new adventures but leaving alot of good behind.  and with that i believe there is a required phase of mourning.  not a bad kind of sad, but the kind that makes you thankful for what you had and hopeful for what's to come.  today i am thankful for mourning....i'm thankful that there are things to mourn.

we are headed to kansas city with hearts full of hope but we are leaving behind a family that loves benton as much as we do.  so far the hardest thing i've had to do as a mother is to take my kid away from people that adore him.  and as i sit down and reflect on the challenge of it i realize there is a bigger issue at hand, one that i think will be continually the hardest thing i do as a mother....to let my kid experience pain.  so already i am praying for my heart.  i pray that i will have the strength to lead benton into the story that God calls him to, and i have no doubt that the story will be filled with both unimaginable good and gut-wrenching pain.  i pray that i do not stand in the way of God in my attempts to protect my son.  i pray that my love for him would be a reflection of God's love for him, that it would be more than a desire for his happiness but that it would be a desire to see him following jesus.  i pray that i would give benton's heart to jesus, not trying to shelter it on my own.

today i choose kansas city wholeheartedly because i believe it is the story God is calling us to.  i believe that derek's job there is one that will make him come alive and live passionately.  i believe the community there is one that will challenge us to follow jesus in new ways.  and i realize that what benton needs most from us is a meaningful, passionate, and unique story to be a part of.

bitter.sweet.part two

lately i've been thinking about this blog for some reason.  i started it because i felt like my time in south africa was a notable story and one that needed sharing.  recently i realized that while it was a notable story, it was just a small chapter in the larger story of our lives.  and the larger story is one even more worthy of sharing.

change will come

i've felt this pressure this week since i've been back.  when i was in africa i kept saying that i couldn't fully process what was happening there and that once i was home i would be able to process alot more.  and in my mind i guess i imagined this week being when all that would happen.  i guess i naively thought that i could just sit around and think about what just happened to me and come away with a bunch of new insight in a week.  what i'm realizing though is there are some problems with that idea.

first problem: when i have tried to sit down and think about the last six weeks i don't really know what to think about or what to do with my thoughts.  it feels like sitting around thinking about it isn't going to really get me anywhere.

second problem: i thought the processing would come as i told people my stories, and in some ways it has. but what i didn't anticipate is how hard it would be to talk about it.  i'm finding that when people ask me how africa was, my standard first line is "it was really really hard but incredibly good" but then i don't know where to go from there.  it's hard to describe.  it's hard to know where to start the story.  so much of what i just experienced was so wrapped up in the lives of the people there, i was just immersing myself in their stories and all the emotions that go along with it.  and that is a hard thing to communicate with people.  and it was, at first, disappointing because people didn't respond how i expected them to.  the stories didn't rock their world like they did mine.  but derek gave me good advice about this.  he said that second-hand stories aren't enough to change people and that is why i went there myself so that i could experience it.  he told me that the experience is mine and it was meant to change me and that i can't expect it to change other people in the same way.  that was a freeing thing to hear.

third and biggest problem:  i don't think the processing is going to come while i sit in my bedroom and just think. i think it's going to come when i least expect it, in bits and pieces, and without being forced.   i think it is going to come as i engage in normal everyday situations here and realize that my perspective has changed because of what i just experienced in the last 6 weeks.  the problem with my first approach of trying to process while i sit quietly with my thoughts is that i was approaching it as if there were something to be "figured out".  it's like i wanted to figure out what it all means and how it applies to my life.  and in some ways now i feel like that is an insult to what i just experienced.  those stories, that pain, my patients, their brokenness...it's not something to be "figured out".  it's something that i want to remember and let change the way i approach life not because i took away 3 bullet points of what i learned from that time but because i lived fully in those stories and i can't help but be changed by them.

is this real life?

coming home was what i dreamed about for 6 weeks but turns out it has been a hard transition.  the first day back felt like i was living a dream.  i had one thought that kept running through my head and it was a quote from david after the dentist (yes the youtube video):  "uhh i feel funny.  is this real life?  i feel funny.  am i going to feel like this forever?"  i can't explain to you the feeling of arriving back in the washington dulles airport and walking by the same gate that we had just left from 6 weeks earlier.  it felt like what had happened to me was all just a dream.  we arrived back at the airport and everything seemed just how we had left it.  everything that we had just lived out for the past 6 weeks was so far removed from everything here that it felt like it must have been a dream.  it's hard to make the connection between here and there.  it's like two completely different lives and i don't know how to merge them.  standing back in the dulles airport i tried to grasp the fact that less than 48 hours ago i had been standing in the middle of bara, immersed in the story i was living there.  but already it felt so far away.  as i thought back on what had happened there it felt like i was watching a movie where i watched the characters play out the stories but i wasn't actually a part of them.  i felt like i was watching myself from the outside but it didn't feel like i had been personally involved in what had just happened.  i'm sure a psychologist could explain to me that it's some sort of coping mechanism or something, i don't know.  i just know that it is a crazy thing to feel.  it's crazy that one day i could be so wrapped up in the stories there: i was shedding tears over my patients, i was sweating in the un-airconditioned gym as i struggled to teach a patient to walk again, i was laughing with one of my patients as he made jokes about america.  and then the next day i can all of the sudden feel totally removed from those stories.  it's somewhat scary i think, how as human beings we can so easily remove ourselves from suffering and choose to disengage.  so my first few days back here have been a struggle.  the first day i was overwhelmed because i felt this burden to process everything i had just seen and it felt like way too much to handle.  derek told me that i just have to let the processing come in its own timing and not force it.  and that is definitely true.  but what i'm realizing is also true is that while i can't, and probably shouldn't, force the understanding and perspective to come as i process, i must force myself to engage in those thoughts.  the easy thing to do is to pretend it didn't happen, and that is actually easier to do than you would think.  but that would be such a waste.  the hardest thing for me to do right now is to quiet myself and let myself really think about what just happened.  to let myself think about the stories of my patients.  to let myself think about the disparity between there and here.  to let myself think about what it means for me and how my life here should change because of what i saw there.  it was hard to engage in those things there but i think there some of the emotion was masked because i was in survival mode.  i did what i had to do because i had no other choice, and i did the best that i could but i didn't always have the capacity to let myself experience the fullness of emotion that came with the situations.  but now i'm back here and when i think back on those things the emotion comes in its entirety and it's hard to make myself go to those places.  so i'm praying desperately that God does not let me run from it.  i'm praying for the strength to re-engage in what i just experienced and to figure out how to merge my life there with my life here.