Ten Years Later

Forgive me the introspective posts, but I read an article on NPR today about how much we change in 10 years and yet we still have a hard time imagining that we will change in the future. Here is a link.

I can't help but think about change in light of the fact that we'll being going to a conference this weekend where we may see the author Brian McLaren, who Robb met back in the summer. During their conversation  Brian inquired about me, which really helped to repaint my old feelings of wanting to punch him in the face at one time not so long ago....but I digress. He said that he meets a lot of guys whose theology and practice have changed. They are reading books, meeting other thinkers and sharing ideas and thereby develop in their beliefs, but their wives are often left out of these conversations. In the worst situations, a woman finds herself caught between her pastor husband who has moved into a new arena of thinking that is scary for her, and a pastor-daddy who hasn't moved at all.  I feel for those women. Because the only way out of that situation is to sit down and do some reading, thinking and owning of your own theology. But it takes time. There is no substitute for time. Not in learning. Not in grief. Not in making changes. Time is transformative.

Ten years ago....I was 28 years old.  (I had to stop and take that in for a moment. Twenty freaking eight. TWENTY 8. Dang.)

The year was 2003 and I was the mother of a 3 and 1 year old. We had just purchased our first house (THAT house).

I was deeply depressed. Whether postpartum or seasonal affective disorder, I don't know, but I have trouble bringing those days to the front of my memory. I had to go find a picture in a scrapbook because there were no digital pictures, no iphones, no blog, no facebook, just an old PC that Dr. Carter gave me as a gift for helping him move out of his office when he retired.  He was still living on earth and we were still emailing on a regular basis. I took pictures of the kids with a film camera and there are very few shots of me, mostly blurry images that I asked Robb to take to prove my existence.

I spent an afternoon looking at those pictures and while my clothes and hair made me cringe (seriously, girl, couldn't you do SOMETHING with that hair?) it was the snapshot of that girl's mind that most surprises me.

I had no friends my own age that I spent time with. I had no friends that were not connected to the church.  I had no unchurched, non-Christian, non-fundamentalist friends, nor friends of any other Protestant denomination.  I had zero interactions with the LGBT community. I had zero interactions with atheists, pagans, hippies, agnostics, Jehovah's Witness, Mormons,  Jews or Muslims.  I voted straight-ticket Republican and struggled to understand how a democrat could also be a Christian. It was inconceivable in my mind.  I had a firm grasp of Christian contemporary music at the time, but no idea what was popular on the secular radio stations.  I played the piano from the hymnal and praise chorus book if I was needed on a Sunday evening service. I primarily read Christian non-fiction books about theology or devotionals by Kay Arthur.  I felt guilty for not being more faithful to the inductive Bible study method. I don't recall seeing movies, but I think we saw one or two a year if it was something we really liked. Drinking alcohol was prohibited by our church constitution and membership agreement.

I spent every single night watching hours of television. I thought play dates were something made up for tv show families and I stayed home with my kids all the time except for church and when we went to get groceries and go shopping as a family. I weaned my son cold-turkey at 8 months because he bit me. I had never heard of attachment theory. I expected my kids to sleep in their own beds from about 6 weeks on (with varying success rates) I rarely went out alone. Sometimes we went to the public library.  I had no goals for the future other than getting Robb into a doctoral program and doing whatever it took to get him into the upper leadership of the church's denominational fellowship.  I could only envision myself as a housewife and couldn't imagine having a job or working outside our home.  My only concern was our home and making it pretty. I did all the regular cooking, cleaning, and laundry and would have been mortified if Robb was to do any of this kind of work since it was my duty. I couldn't imagine life beyond Calvin's baby-hood, but I expected to have two more kids after him. Adoption was something we had talked about in the past, but we were sure it was expensive and we were not thinking much about our future.

I was afraid to drive on highways and went out of my way to stay on back roads due to a near-accident I had while I was pregnant with Mattie. I was afraid of Robb dying. I was afraid of conflict. I was afraid of being alone. I was afraid of criticism. I was afraid of life.

I thought family members would always be there and I took them for granted. My grandparents were both living and so was my brother in law. 

I had no concept of recycling or the environment and sincerely believed that if God made the world that humans couldn't mess it up enough to hurt it much.  The extent of my knowledge of Africa was that they were poor and hungry. I had no idea of the extent of the epidemic of AIDS or of any ways that could be helped.  I knew that Compassion International was an agency that Michael W. Smith helped. I knew nothing about the foster care system in America or of the way it worked.

We ate whatever we could afford from the local grocery store, and I pretty much bought whatever was cheapest. We though eating at McDonalds was a treat and Sunday nights often found us eating a Super-sized meal, in bed, while watching tv.

I knew that Dr. Cater believed that someday people would buy everything from the internet, right down to their shoes, but I wasn't sure I believed him.  If I could have, I would have bought everything from the mall, but as it was, I shopped at Walmart.  I believed that if it came from the mall it was better than handmade. We were in debt up to our eyeballs with no plan to get out.

As I think on these things, I am genuinely astounded by the extent and profundity of the changes.  I changed at the core of my values and beliefs. I am also amazed by how much more alive I am. How I "own" my life now....back then I was living someone else's life by someone else's standards. I was waiting for someone to give me permission to make choices.  Much of what I did do was out of false bravado and trying to blend in.  My lack of understanding myself led ironically to being self-conscious and awkward, not free to serve and love others.  I am also surprised at how the changes were brought about by such small things... like joining the Public Library book club.  Having a conversation with a lady at my garage sale.  Going for a walk and finding an estate auction. One thing that led to another.

I really can't imagine what I will be like ten years from now. Aside from the extra 10 pounds each decade though, I feel really optimistic about the future.  I know that there will be times of pain, but there will also be growth. And hopefully, better haircuts.

A Giant Leathery Hug

Ok, like a year ago, I won the Pioneer Woman's photography contest and got a big ol' gift card to J.C. Penney. And I toyed with using it for this couch...remember?

But of course, we used that for Christmas and the couch once again, became just a dream.

But as we were cleaning out the house this past week, I turned this mental corner in my mind. I just thought, you know, it might be time to stop acting kind of pathetic and buying cheap crap now. We can save up for something better. Everything was selling so well at the garage sale, I called and asked Robb if I could get rid of our couch. I figured we could live without one for a while and it would be good motivation to save for a new one.

Of course, everyone thinks my relationship with couches is so funny...well it IS a little odd. But your couch is like your clothes and your car and when it doesn't fit your personality, it's just kind of annoying. Seriously, in the grand scheme of life, I know it is just a thing, but it is a thing you sit on a lot and invite other people to sit on, and spend time with your family on, etc. etc.

So one of my friends casually mentions, "Hey, have you tried the Lucky Horseshoe?" Nope, never heard of it. It's a scratch and dent furniture store out on 412. So on Monday, with that much information, I meandered out that direction, after stopping and looking at my other gyp-joints and junque-piles...which were well stocked with UGLY couches.

In my mind I knew a couple of things for sure: Robb would need to love anything I picked out. Not that he's so difficult, but I have made him live with a lot of things he hates over the years, and I just really wanted him to be happy with what I picked out. Secondly, I would not pay retail, not even at an outlet store. I know the markup on furniture and I just flat out refuse to pay it. With where we are in life and who we are trying to honor with our resources, I just couldn't justify paying full price or even close to full price for anything.

The Lucky Horseshoe is a dusty, crowded, pile of furniture shoe-horned into a small store front, with about 50 different pieces of furniture out front that couldn't possibly fit inside the store....I have no idea what they do when it rains. They've been there for about 6 weeks and used to be in a location two towns north of us.

I squeezed in the front door and laid eyes on the prize. Not sure what to expect, I checked the price tag. It was so reasonable, I fulled expected the entire back of the couch must be ripped off. I inquired. A scratch on the back of the arm. Some dings in the wooden skirt. The obligatory furniture fabric underneath torn loose. That's all.
Robb came and looked at it, and it was simply, a no-brainer. At less than one third the original price, it was brand new, but not so perfect that we needed to scream at our kids continuously for even looking at it. As Hannah so eloquently put it, I didn't need to pay an extra six hundred dollars to put my own dings in it! And the best part? I already had that exact amount saved up.

So here it is: it is just like the one I dreamed of a year ago, only nicer! I'm not a health-wealth gospel person AT ALL. But I feel really blessed....it was nothing for God. It was the littlest thing in the world for the Ruler of the Universe to drop a couch into my life. It was a piece of cake for Him. But it's a really big deal to me. He actually cares about me. He actually cares if I have a couch that I actually like. I know...I know it's just a thing. I know there are other needs out there....way more important ones. I don't know why He chose to bless us, other than just because He's God and He is nice like that and wanted to encourage us a little bit with a nice thing. But I said it in the store and I'm saying it now....This was God setting this all up for us. I'm not trying to be cheesy. I don't think I deserve it. I'm just really grateful.

Now, if I could just figure out how to arrange the room....

Freedom

Friday. You blessed day, I thought you'd never come. Tonight, I'll make something fun for supper and Robb and I will watch a movie late into the night and we'll wake up when we want to on Saturday morning and go the Farmer's Market and get some FOOD. How loverly.

I have officially not been out of the house all week. I rather like to stay home, quite honestly. Today, I'll probably tinker some more with my secondary Etsy store The Rick Rack Shack, where I'm listing all the fabric and hundreds of patterns I've acquired in my journeys. And I'd like to mosaic. I have a thought in my head that's been simmering for a while, wanting to be made.

It's a relief to H, I'm sure, to know that I want to mosaic again. Having the gallery turn me down was a serious bummer and really took the wind out of my sails. She asked me yesterday if I couldn't enjoy making things if I knew I couldn't sell them. That was a great question and it got me thinking.

It's true that I'm always thinking about the sale-ability of an item I make or buy. I'm thinking about how to market it, and ultimately how to literally trade what I've got for what I want: kids clothes, good food, occasional eating out, garden supplies, redecorating supplies....

I found myself wondering if that was a good trait or a bad trait. Other people, I know, don't live and think this way. Robb took me for a much needed walk around the block last night and we talked it out. "I guess it depends on what you want the money for?" he asked. And then it dawned on me. Money isn't anything all by itself. Money means all kinds of different things to people. Sometimes it means a feeling of security. I would say, that making that little bit of extra money that I do, while puttering around, means the promise of freedom. And freedom is extraordinarily important to me.

That's probably why I've been so grouchy all week...with the kids sick and the budget tight, and the heat and bugs so oppressive outside, I told Robb I felt like I was living on a square foot of space and couldn't move. Knowing that I have all these limitations makes me focus too much on the limitations and not on what I do have to work with.

When I was a kid, I went to a school with essentially no freedom. They even tried to make having devotions mandatory. The rule book was already thick when each year, they would add new prohibitions to it based on the current worldly issues of the day...thanks to Madonna, we couldn't wear socks and panty hose at the same time. I'm not sure who the guys had to thank for the prohibition on pants with double stitching. It was insane. You also couldn't go to movies or dances, and I'm sure they would have frowned on Rock-n-bowl if they could have figured out a way to work that into the rule book. And don't even get me started on Pizza Hut because they served beer in pitchers!




But I never became a rebellious teenager. And I think one of the reasons for that was that at home, I had all the freedom I wanted. As a younger kid on three acres of field and woods, if I wanted to build something with Dad's tools, make something out of Mom scraps, learn to cook, go fishing, go exploring in the woods, catch crayfish in the creek, ride my bike, hang out in my tree house, dig in the dirt, or just generally lie around with a stack of fifty library books, that was cool. As a high schooler, I had no curfew. The car when I wanted it. Shoot...my senior year, I stayed out all night once because I didn't want to drive home in the snow from my boyfriend's house. It was already late when I made my decision, and I knew my parents would be asleep. So I didn't even call them. In the morning, they called me, where I was fast asleep in said boyfriend's kid-brother's room. All I got out of that was a laughing "Dumb Kid....don't do that again without calling us." Ok. It was as much freedom as I needed.

As an adult, the number one thing that began to scratch our hide at churches we pastored, was when freedom was cut off. When it was obvious any new ideas were going to be killed and the status quo was going to be worshiped, it was time to roll on out.
I've got absolutely zero interest in maintaining a garden of status quo. I thrive on the freedom to do things a little differently. Robb knows this about me, and does a great job of living with me. His one rule is that I let him know when I'm going to paint something, so he knows what to expect. He cherishes freedom too, so he's quick to give me as much as I need.

Money to me, is a means of freedom. The freedom to say yes when friends want to go out to eat. The freedom to do the things you like to do and are good at, instead of being hooked up to a job that you don't care about. The freedom to travel around a bit so you don't ever get too mossy and provincial. The freedom to try something new without it wiping out your bank account.

So how about you? What does money mean to you? How important is freedom to you? Or maybe money and freedom mean nothing to you and you cherish something else? I'm curious. What are you working for?

Blessed to be a Blessing

 

 

 

 

I'm pretty sure words will completely fail even me trying to explain how one minute I was vacuuming out our friend's car and the next minute this car with a big bow on it arrived and keys came flying at me...and you can see the look on my face here.

The short and beautiful story is that Friends of Vintage both near and far got it into their heads that a second car was what we needed. So they bought this for us. It is a 2004 Ford Focus with some crazy few miles on it. It was pretty much immaculate, and then Aaron went at it and made it immaculater! (No fast food will ever be consumed in this vehicle) They got an AMAZING DEAL on it at STEVE SMITH COUNTRY (They deserve all the free advertising I can do for them!) It came with a full tank of gas and brand new tires. I love it. I love the color. I love the sporty shape. I love that it has a floor shift. I just flat out love it. Oh, and just to make sure the icing was on the cake, taxes and tags are paid for as well as two new tires on the Aztek that were completely bald. Yeah, that's right...they went all Extreme Makeover Style on us.

The kids, by the way, very quickly realized, "WE DON'T HAVE TO WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL IN THE SNOW!"

I can't tell you how it feels to have people give something so amazing to us and to have our friends stand by and be so completely happy for us. I can't get over that. I don't think I'm supposed to.

Because Hannah has absolutely forbid me, on threat of beating me, from feeling guilty and saying other people have greater needs, I'm holding on to the idea that Aaron preached about...We have been blessed to be a blessing. I don't know yet what kind of ministry opportunities are open to us now, but I am so excited. I have mentally dubbed it, The Vintage Mobile. The timing of it all, the way people gave, the changes God has been making in our lives...it all has God's fingerprints on it.

And We're Off

I'm in one of those vortexes of faith. I want to desperately believe that God will take care of us, but on the other hand, I doubt very highly that He is willing or likely to drop the cash for tires, a broken computer and travel expenses for this wedding in our lap. And I confess I have no idea what He wants us to do...I feel like a caged little animal, with God poking at me, saying "Now what are you gonna do?" Of course, God is much better than an 8 year old kid who has trapped a mouse, but I still feel like He is trying to illicit a holy response from me.

I gave up wine. Probably NOT permanently. But it didn't feel right to me to purchase something so comforting and luxurious to placate myself when we have "not been able" to give as much as we would like to Him. I was piqued during Aaron's sermons on money not once but twice about this. Far from giving me a high five or a "You go, girl!" God instead greeted my resolve with more financial stress.

I don't know the right answer and if you try to say you know, I will think you are a real jerk. This is my little challenge.

Here is what I do know for sure.

God is good, but that doesn't mean He owes me something.
Even when I am doing the right thing, He doesn't owe me anything.
There is no dance I can perform to get what I want/need from Him.
He knows our needs.
He knows our hearts.
I want to respond in faith, not fear.

So that's the heart of it all. Around that swirl all the details that have to be taken care of today...the ebay boxes to pack with no packing supplies, the fuses that need to be fixed in the car so the kids can watch movies during our 18 hour car drive, small group tonight, cleaning and packing, email to answer, thoughts to think, being really present at this wedding, and present in our own lives.

"He remembers that we are dust."