saying yes also means saying no

I'm not sure if it's simply that I'm a victim of my culture, or that I'm a victim of my own guilt and/or pride, but I have trouble saying, "No." (Let's be honest: I'm probably a victim of both.)

The problem with this is that too many Yes's later, I am either having a personal breakdown or have now got myself a long list people I've let down.

The end of pregnancy is always a very humbling time for me. I literally cannot keep saying, "Yes."

I can't.

And ouch! does it hurt to realize that.

The other day I was telling Daniel tearfully about how I feel like I'm not doing enough here and that I've dropped the ball there and, oh, what about them? and you know what he said to me?

"You've said, Yes, to this baby, Brietta. And that means saying, No, to other things. And that's okay. In fact, it's more than okay. It's the way it's supposed to work. You are not infinite in your time, abilities, strength, and energy. It's important to be tangibly reminded of that."

It sounded very reassuring in the moment, but when I have to look someone in the eye and say, "I can't do that, sorry," it's a whole 'nother story. I have learned to just say it, but I feel wracked with guilt, completely insecure, and extremely humbled for days afterwards.

Maybe I'm the only one.

But I've been doing lots of thinking about this concept of saying Yes and saying No and what it really means.

Because sometimes I fool myself into thinking that I can keep adding.

Oh! that's a good idea, let me add that to my day!
So and so needs help? Sure! I'll do it!
Maybe I could ask _______ to do that, but why ask someone to do something that I'm perfectly capable of doing myself; that doesn't seem right!

The truth is that, for the most part in life, none of the things I'm adding are actually so huge that I immediately feel the cost in my time and energy elsewhere. But whether or not I see it right away and for what it is, the bottom line is that for each thing I add, something does get lost.

The investment opportunities abound and even scream at us for our attention, have you noticed? The extra science experiment, the music lessons, the 24-hour soaked grains, the ministry at church that is short on workers, the baby shower here and the bridal shower there, the list of books that are all so appealing and seem so necessary, the one-on-one dates with the kids, the people to invite to dinner, the birthday celebrations, the counseling, the play dates, and on and on and on it goes.

None of them are evil.

But none of them are intrinsically God-for-me either.

And if I fill up my time with the looks-good investments, at some point the God-led investments are suffering and being neglected, and what then have I done to myself and to the ones (and the One) I am trying so very hard to serve?

So these days, as I'm physically and emotionally limited more than usual and am confronted almost instantaneously when I take on too much, I am asking the Lord to teach me an important lesson for always: give me the wisdom to recognize and the perseverance to make the God-led investments and to not be distracted by the looks-good investments. This is something He wants to lead me (and each of us!) very personally in. The God-led investments vary from person to person, and even from season to season. One month obedience requires that I say, "No," to a request or a need; the next it requires that I say, "Yes." There is no formula, no magic equation I can apply to know once and for all where I ought to spend my resources. I have to stay close to the Holy Spirit, and I have to remain sensitive and flexible.

And I must stay always remembering: I am not infinite in my time, abilities, strength, and energy. He alone can be the Source, the Answer, the Enough for each person, each situation, each need.

these days...

... we are about 1/4th of the way through our school year. To be perfectly honest, so far it's been a smashing success and dismal failure all rolled into one. The success part is seeing how much the kids grow and learn and explore despite my own inability to stay as far ahead of them as I'd like to stay. The failure part is me losing my cool with the interruptions from Claire and Elliot and all the times I start to panic that because we're not covering what I planned, it somehow isn't enough.

I'll get it someday.

I hope.


... the gardens are all cut down, the lawn is mowed for the final time, and I have one more dinner planned using the grill before we bring it inside for the winter. The temperatures are fluctuating enough to remind me that fall is quickly coming to an end, and the early darkness that wraps itself around us each evening only confirms what the weather is trying to help me comprehend.

Thanks to Bronwyn's urging, we pulled out the final Thanksgiving decor the other day. It was worth the 30-minute delay to our school morning.

Pinterest-inspired chalkboard art, dried lantern flowers, a banner made with my friend and neighbor Nancy 6 years ago, favorite figurines, candles and candles and candles,.

... Daniel is generously letting me catch as much as sleep here and there as can be managed. Most nights find me tossing and turning from about 2-4am, and often I just get up and do something productive during those hours because sleep is so evasive, despite my constant exhaustion.

Hormones.

And so the man gets up every morning he is around to do the 5:30-6:30am shift with Elliot (and an occasional Claire and/or Aubrey) and to let me sleep that extra bit. I come downstairs as the sun is already starting to break through the night sky-- the smell of coffee and the sound of forced air enveloping me-- hug a freshly changed and fed Elliot, and all I can think is: how did I get so lucky?

It seriously brings tears of gratitude to my eyes.

Can I just say that there is nothing about this parenting/motherhood thing that I am doing alone? Daniel is in it every step of the way with me, bearing the burden and easing my load in every way he possibly can. He is the definition of sacrificial leadership.

The definition, I tell you.


... I am realizing what a tablecloth kinda girl I am. If such a kinda girl exists.

I know they're not practical, what with 6 kids who regularly spill food and drink on them. I've tried to convince myself to go without.

But they're pretty. And they're special. And it's not like I can't turn around and get them cleaned within 24 hours of a meal. I do laundry pretty much around the clock.

Tonight, even without Daniel here, I spread out a table before we set the table for dinner and I smiled a happy little smile. It warms my heart. It's often the little things that do, you know.


... the nearness of meeting our newest little one is dawning. December felt so far off that's it really just now occurring to me that even in light of how laid back I tend to be when it comes to baby preparations, there are some things that need to be figured out and settled beforehand.

(I haven't even thought yet to ask the midwife how many people I'm allowed to have at the delivery, for example.)

With a family wedding and Thanksgiving between now and then, the end of November doesn't look like it will afford much time for settling, so today I began with the simplest, at-home stuff.

I hoisted my too-large self up the trap-door attic ladder and crawled around a too-small crawl space, retrieving the bassinet and bouncy seat. I pulled out the infant clothing and blankets and got them washed. Gabriel helped me move a dresser from the guest room/Elliot's room to my bedroom so that I could fill it with said clothes and blankets. I ordered some diapers and started looking online at infant car seats to replace our expired one.

 A whole lot of white and a little pink and a little blue so that we're ready for whoever this baby is!

 

... I'm thinking more and more about my baby sister's upcoming wedding. I had my hair colored and trimmed yesterday and today I assessed the clothing situation for the 8 people I am responsible for making sure look decent on the special day. It's a little over 2 short weeks away.

Unbelievable!

She was just a little girl yesterday, you know.


... we've been talking as a family about idolatry. Anyone/thing I look to as savior besides Jesus. We have been evaluating, taking hard looks at our hearts, asking the Lord to make us wholly and completely His, reminding ourselves that He is the only way.

Not that event. Not that food. Not that possession. Not that relationship. Not that feeling. Not that argument. Not that reputation.

Nothing but Jesus.

And we've been talking about what a gift repentance is. Oh! it seems hard in the moment. Sometimes harder than others.

But it sets us free.

Those words that shouldn't have been spoken.; that attitude that soured the moment; the selfish pursuits, the unkindness, the ugly ulterior motives, the idolatry that caused us to run to someone or something else when we felt trapped or hopeless or despairing or in need of renewal; these things that so easily beset and bind us up: we bring them into the light, we call them what they are, we ask for forgiveness-- His and others-- and we are set free.

Bit by bit, moment by moment, He sets us free. Free to choose Him.

And He never, ever, ever fails or disappoints. He is better. Always better.

Baby Bear

Four years ago she entered our world: soft, sweet, mild-tempered, easy.

Even her actual delivery was easy. At about 11pm on October 31st, the doctor told me following a non-stress test (I had gone in with some unusual bleeding two hours earlier, but I was not in labor as far as I could tell!) that he wasn't leaving the hospital because he was certain the baby was coming and coming soon, and that I shouldn't leave either. I scoffed and protested and whined to Daniel that I just wanted a good night's sleep in my own bed.

Wouldn't you know, at 1:19am Claire Evangeline was born, dimpled and chubby and healthy and just perfect in every way.

She slept 5+ hours at night from the first night we were home. I tell you: easy. She has been a delight, a healing, a source of affection, and a riot everyday since we first met her.

Tonight we celebrated her with Nana, Aunt Camilla, Merrick, brothers and sisters, and special friends (Benny and Mrs. Whalen, specifically!). Between some sniffles and coughs, she indulged in the requested chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, opened gifts, and played well past her normal bedtime.

Our very own Baby Bear. We couldn't love her more!

little graces

This has been a doozy of a week month. I am in a constant state of feeling behind, having to pull back, being certain I'm in over my head, losing my cool, and crying. Blame it on hormones, blame it on anemia, blame it on homeschooling, blame it on busyness, blame it on what you will: at the end of most each of these days, while I'm too tired to even figure it out, I'm not too tired to fall into bed, cry some more, and think, I don't want my kids to remember these days as frenzied, harried, unpleasant days. Jesus, help me tomorrow!

We have been in survival mode and as much as I'd like to think that would simplify things enough to bring some accompanying peace, it hasn't worked as well as I'd like. And when I was reading a book to my littlest ones the other night, Claire asked me very sincerely, "Mom, do you even know how to make cookies?" and I realized how long it's been since I took time for many extras. It just about broke my heart.

Combine those types of prayers, those sorts of realizations, and my melancholy disposition, and you get a mama who is frequently convinced that she is ruining her children's lives.

(I'm not dramatic at all when it comes to self-analysis. Ha.)

About a week ago, though, I felt the nudge of the Holy Spirit, the reminder to start taking pictures again. Not because I'm a good photographer. (I'm not.) But so that I can see again. See the everyday things, the moments that sneak in when I least expect them, the small provisions that remind me of His love, the little graces woven throughout my day by the One who holds it all together.

Peace, after all, isn't a certain amount of order, productivity, or accomplishment. Peace is a Person. A Person who has made Himself present in my reality, who has chosen to be close to the weak. There is tremendous comfort to be found in this, and when I stop long enough to let it soak into my heart, I find that I can look around again and overflow with how abundantly rich each day is.

 Stolen leaf fun on a busy day.

This man coming to my rescue with finishing a job that I just didn't have time for... again.

 Beauty all around me.

All around me.

 Meals that keep getting made I don't know how. Honestly, each evening when we sit down at the table, I'm not quite certain where the energy for even the simple offerings (I am rocking the one-pot meals these days!) came from, except to say that most afternoons when I am sure I just don't have another ounce to give, Jesus supplies and the veggies get chopped and the meat gets browned and the rice gets cooked and the table gets set and the candles get lit and--just wow-- thanks, Lord, for meeting me in the very, very basic moments of life.

Big sister and little sisters and precious memories being made.

Tenacious little blooms hanging on even as I cut down the dead plants and rake out the gardens.

Reminders that even if we're not getting as much math done as I'd hoped, and even though the last science experiment was a flop, and even despite the constant interruptions in our schooling thanks to the busy 18-month-old, they are learning and they are growing and they are discovering-- again, all thanks to Him and the curiosity He deposits in their little minds and no thanks to me.

A promise kept from generation to generation, testifying of the goodness and holiness and graciousness of my God.

Friends who love on and invest in and encourage my kids.

Beautiful apples at a cheaper-than-expected price and the best kind of help in putting up jars and jars of applesauce for the long winter months ahead.

The privilege of homeschooling these kiddos. I am so, so, so, so thankful that I get to be the one sharing in their daily discoveries, struggles, accomplishments, and growth-- and I do not take it for granted!

Finding time to bake an apple crisp and to include this special, growing-too-fast girl in the process so she can know for sure that, yes, even Mama knows how to make something special every once in a while!

Dinners with the ones I love. Even though the food is simple and although mealtime can't always include that favorite face at the opposite end of the table, we laugh and we break bread and we gladly scarf down every bite because, well, this family can eat.

Chipping away and halfway there in one quick afternoon. Gratitude for when tasks go more quickly and effortlessly than usual.

re-calibrating

Tonight, I breathe a deep sigh.

Five children are tucked in bed, the littlest ones sleeping and the bigger ones reading. Gabriel and Daniel are out at Monday Night Classes. Right now, it is quiet and it is peaceful and I am alone with my thoughts.

But earlier couldn't have been more different. Earlier was loud and earlier was chaotic and earlier was me saying faster than I was thinking, barking orders quicker than I could even process the necessity of them, caving to my emotions instead of Truth.

The other night she asks, "If someone were with you 24/7, would they still want to be like you?"

She didn't ask it in a, "Get your life together, honey!" sort of way, but in a, "Would they see Jesus in the midst of your everyday-ness," sort of way.

And I can't stop thinking about it.

This evening, before the husband arrived home and took the 20 minutes he had before needing to leave again to patch me up and put me back together, I was a hot mess. And that question quickened to my mind again and angry tears smarted in my eyes that it would even dare come into my consciousness in such a moment.

Why does the bar have to be set so high? I cry.

And sooner than I can even ask, I know why.

He has been reminding me often these past weeks.

So that you will know it isn't you that holds things together, and so that you will know it is My power that transforms you from the inside out.

Oh, but it stings. It stings to be reminded yet again of how just frail I am on my own; just how rotten and sick and  helpless. It stings to even be in this season of very practically coming face to face with my own physical limitations, of realizing once more just how finite my strength and stamina are.

In fact, it even shows me how little faith I have. Because at times like this I realize how much I doubt, how often I wonder, Can you really do what you say You will do with me, Lord?

The thing is, when I step back and I am honest and tearfully confess my unbelief and I ask Him how it will be different tomorrow, He reminds me that I am His. He reminds me that it is His Gospel at work in me that is the difference-maker. He reminds me that those things, those sins that I so often return to, have no power over me any more. He reminds me that He never tires of me throwing myself upon His mercies, again and again and again and again. He reminds me of how present a help He wants to be in times of distress and in times of weakness. He reminds me that peace is not order, it is not cleanliness, it is not meeting all the needs around me, it is not my having it together-- He is my peace.

And you He made alive, who were dead in trespasses and sins, in which you once walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit who now works in the sons of disobedience, among who also we all once conducted ourselves in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, just as the others.

But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up together, and made us sit together in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, that in the ages to come He might show the exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grave you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.

twelve years

Twelve years ago, on a chilly October evening, we said I do and pledged ourselves to one another.

We didn't know what we were doing.

I don't think anyone really does, regardless of whether they are 19 or 29 or 49.

But he loved me, I was sure of that. And I loved him.

And I knew we would serve Jesus together.

Twelve years later, I am more certain of his love for me.

I love him more than I did then.

We have served Jesus together, and He has walked so faithfully with us.

When we said I do, He said I do, too.

I am thankful for Daniel, for our marriage, and for our covenant-keeping God.

the babe update

We are full-fledged pregnant these days.

Not that I wasn't before, but it took a while this time around for the symptoms of pregnancy to really kick in. At this point, I am enjoying all the side effects (or "collateral damage," as I am more prone calling them) pretty much daily: insomnia, pelvic aches, indigestion/heartburn, trouble reaching my toes, dizzy spells, etc. While it continues to humble me that this is all the more I have to contribute to the amazing process that's taking within, there is the increasing awareness that I am making contributions to what's happening.

31 weeks and grow-ing!

At my 24-week appointment, I measured 4cm shy of where I was "supposed" to be. At my 30-week appointment, I was only 1cm shy. We are taking a lot of ground in the past 2 months, as evidenced not only by the measurements that are rapidly catching up, but also by the numbers on the scale, my increasing sense of "big," and the never-ending hunger/cravings I seem to have.

Between hunger and heartburn, food manages to be both my best friend and worst enemy.

My iron levels are low again. My hemoglobin dropped from 11.7 to 9.4 in a short seven weeks and my hematocrit is down to 28% (for reference, "normal" is 12-15 and 38-46%). I'm trying so hard this time around, yet anemia seems to simply be part and parcel for me when pregnant. It's discouraging when my efforts have been so heightened. I'd be lying to say I don't mind the weakness, dizziness, and heart palpitations that accompany anemia (I actually hate it all), and perhaps what's even harder than the physical affects are the emotional ramifications of this increasing exhaustion/weakness. Particularly in the past two weeks, I find myself easily overwhelmed, overly sensitive, and quickly done in. Frequently of late the Lord has had to remind me that there are always seasons in life when I "run out," but that He doesn't.

Good reminders, I tell you.

And I'm trying to keep perspective: this is worth it.

SO worth it!

Before we know it, we will meet this little person. A season of 12-ish weeks of being abnormally tired and weary is altogether short in the grand scheme of things. The joy of a new life, a new destiny, will overwhelm any memories of the small price I had to pay.

Don’t you see that children are God’s best gift?

the fruit of the womb his generous legacy?

Psalm 127:3