Something Was Missing...

There's nothing quite like Sunday, is there? The day is glorious, as it should be. My heart is just so full as I leave corporate worship. Recently, as I considered that, I wondered how I might make my own personal worship, bible reading, and study capture some of that. I quickly realized that an element that was missing from my personal time with God was music. And not just background music as I go about a task (although that's wonderful, and a way I bring a soothing spirit of peace into my home when tensions tend to run high, like during the morning getting-to-school rush or the "witching hour" right before dinner), but thoughtful singing where I reflect on the words. Have you incorporated music into your personal worship time? How do you do it? I can do something as simple as pick up the hymnal and play and sing, or I can use my phone and find a song on YouTube and use that (I admit, that works nice when the babies are napping). Lately, I've just been finding that Speak O Lord by the Gettys just puts me in the right orientation to God. What are your favorite personal worship songs?


   

Introducing Baby Boaz

Our precious eighth child and fourth son, Boaz Laurent, arrived on Friday, April 14th at 3:24 pm.  He weighed in at 8lbs 3oz and was 20.5 inches long.  His birth story began on Thursday evening.  I finished up my last teaching appointment before starting my maternity leave at 7:30pm.  At 8:30 I felt like I just needed to take a walk.  It was getting dark and it was pretty cold, but I felt like it was a good idea.  After a 30 minute walk, I felt restless but settled into bed and felt drowsy enough to put down my book and try to go to sleep.  That wasn't happening though, and as 11:00 approached I felt increasingly restless and uncomfortable and decided to take a shower just in case.  I felt like maybe this was going to be the night...  And then I fell asleep.  Well, that was disappointing.  But around 4:00 I woke up again to some painful contractions.  I woke James up at that point and the contractions persisted for a good hour, about 7-8 minutes apart.  We called my doctor's answering service and they suggested going to Labor & Delivery, but shortly afterwards, the contractions fizzled back out.  So, at 5:30 James and I headed out for another 30 minute walk in the neighborhood, this time in the light rain.  That kept them going for a while, but again they faded out, so we got the kids ready for school and decided we could just head to my scheduled 9:20 appointment and speak to my OB.  We packed up our hospital bags just in case and headed downtown.  At our appointment, oh glorious news - I'd made progress from 2.5 centimeters dilated last week to 4 centimeters.  That, combined with my sporadic contractions and bloody show, was enough for my OB to say the magic words "Why don't you head on over to Labor & Delivery and I'll meet you there during my lunch break?".  We were SO excited - this was exactly how I hoped this baby's delivery would go, slow and controlled.  So, we went across the street to the hospital, got checked in and the IV started (no 30 minute drama this time, she got it in right away, which was crucial if I was to get the epidural I so wanted this time) and moved from triage to our room.  Contractions were sporadic and weak, so we walked the halls for an hour or so.  After that, my OB popped in and asked if I was open to her breaking my water and I said absolutely.  As soon as that happened (about 1:00), the contractions started almost immediately.  I asked for and received a perfect epidural within 30 minutes of true labor starting (yay!).  Unfortunately, at that point, my perfect labor took a bit of a detour.  Baby wasn't responding favorably to my contractions.  He showed serious decels through the duration of every contraction - his heart rate getting down into the 50s.  His recovery after the contractions was good, but it was easy to see that, as shifting positions didn't help, the room was getting a bit tense.  After about an hour and a half of this, I begin to feel real fear, something I've never experienced during a birth.  I remember praying hard - promising God that I no longer cared if they had to do a c-section, even under general anesthesia, none of that mattered so long as my baby was fine.  Fortunately, my doctor has a very calm personality, and prevented me from panicking too much.  She did, however, want me to start pushing a bit prematurely (I was about 9 centimeters) and get the baby delivered.  That's how I knew that, although the staff was all very reassuring, they were concerned.  The pushing was intense, moreso than some other labors.  I had to work really hard this time!  After about 20 minutes, the OB called for the vacuum (baby was just super displeased about this whole process).  But I was finally able to get him under the pelvic bone on my own, and pushed him out about 5 minutes later all on my own. The epidural did wear off during that phase, so I was so lucky (haha) to get to experience the whole ring of fire again.  He came out much more purple than any of my other babies, and his apgar scores were the lowest too, a 7 and an 8.  You could tell the whole process of labor and birth was difficult on him.  He was born with a nuchal cord (cord wrapped around the neck), which is pretty common and usually not much of a problem, but in his case, it absolutely was a problem - it had been badly compressed during every contraction, especially as he moved down.  I'm so grateful that this was not my first baby, because it would have ended in a true emergency c-section because I wouldn't have been able to have the fast labor that I had.  I can see in all of this story so clearly the hand of the Lord.  He ordained that I would have a weird labor pattern of fitful stops and starts that has never happened before.  He knew that Boaz needed to be born now, and that he needed to be born in a controlled but fast manner.  As I write this, I tear up a little still, one month later, out of gratitude for God's goodness that brought this much-loved baby into the world safe and sound.  He is good, always.

The Criticism Trap

As someone with perfectionist tendencies and an innate desire to please people and be well-respected, learning to accept criticism gracefully has been one of my struggles in spiritual maturation.  I don't know that there is anyone out there that really ENJOYS criticism, but for me, it went beyond that.  In my younger days, criticism was a personal affront.   I could spend hours and days stewing on a criticism, no matter how mildly-given, blowing it up in my mind to epic proportions.  But the beauty of daily through-the-Bible-in-a-year reading that James and I have done annually for several years now, is that the more subtle scriptures that maybe you missed last time stand out to you in a fresh reading as you grow up in your salvation.  Unbeknownst to me, this time around, the Lord has been plowing over my heart (and yes, that visual is not a comfortable, gentle thing - because it's not MEANT to be) to learn to be a wiser woman who can accept criticism and use it to grow in obedience and spiritual awareness.  Of course, one doesn't become more skilled in anything without practice, which means, yes, I've been given charitable instruction on how I might do things better (because we are new missionaries on deputation, there's PLENTY of room for learning and mistakes, that's for sure).  And the lusts of the flesh are still there.  I still feel the sting of offense and rejection at first.  But the Lord has been gracious to still my tongue and immediately remind me of the many places in Scripture where we are reminded that accepting rebuke with joy and humility is a requirement of the mature believer.  I'm continually reminded of God's great grace in working through me -- a broken vessel who, on my own, can do nothing but continually disappoint the very people I love and am ministering to.  Thank God we have a merciful Father, a loving Son who accepted the penalty due us for our grievous sins, and a Spirit who is given to us as a Comforter and Counselor.

 

How I Keep My House Tidy Without Going Crazy

This is a paraphrase of Romans 12:13, but it's a good one, I think

I feel a bit strange to be writing this, because I'm far from a master housekeeper. In fact, I would say I'm just very average.  I prefer an organized, tidy space, but I'm not super fussy about details.  But I've had people ask me before how I keep my house mostly clean, most of the time, and I finally decided that maybe an average person can be a good resource for most of us.  First of all, routine is super important to having a clean house more often than not.  If I get thrown out of my routine, my house is NOT going to stay tidy, and will require a more time and energy intensive cleaning at some point.  And those days are not my favorite.  So, I mostly try to do the same things on a rotating basis, especially during the weekdays, when my schedule is quite predictable.  For me, there's a magical time when I'm most motivated and most productive.  I think most of us probably have that period.  Mine falls between when I get home from dropping the older kids off at school until lunch time (8:30-11:30).  So, that's the time I have to tackle the house, baking, and most of my other chores/responsibilities.  Many days I can just dive right in, but on the days I'm lacking discipline, I resort to ye old Timer method.  It works for kids, and I think it works for adults too.  I force myself to stop the "fun" stuff (whether that's being online or reading) and set my kitchen timer for just 10 minutes, and turn on some music.  I start in one corner of my kitchen and work my way around.  I can usually finish up the kitchen in that first 10 minutes, but there's something strange about at least getting started to me - more often than not I regain my motivation and finish up a full tidy of my lower level.  I might just go for it all at once, or I might do a 10 and 10 minute mashup of rotating cleaning interspersed with 10 minutes of leisure time.  And let me tell you, it feels SO good to have that clean-enough house.  It's not pristine.  With 9 (soon to be 10) people living in this home, and a busy and full life, that's just not even something I particularly desire.  But it's homey and inviting, and I'm never ashamed to open my door to an unexpected visitor (which is such a biblical but unWestern concept).  I'll share a few photos, taken just today after my morning sweep that shows what I mean in terms of "livable, hospitable tidiness".  If I can do it, you can do it too!

Music Room - the room our front door opens into.  As you can see, there's still work in progress - some ironed clothing on one chair that I'm in the process of taking pictures of in order to list in my eBay store (I do this twice a year, so it's not a normal thing, but you know what, right now it's what I'm working on, and that's nothing I need to be ashamed about)

Kitchen - Again, it's lived in.  Everything is put in its place, but there are some sticky notes on the counter that have the kids' chores written on them and a bowl of cornflakes that some unknown child poured but didn't eat that will stay on the counter for said culprit's afternoon snack

This is the dining room.  It's not swept (sweeping is a never-ending chore because of our dark wood floors that is more difficult at 8 months pregnant, so it doesn't always happen and I can live with that) and there are boy shoes at the door into the backyard, but the table top is cleaned off, which is big to me - I don't like anything on the table if we aren't eating

Living Room - This room right now looks the most "lived in".  Today is boys' laundry day.  So, one sofa is my laundry station.  There's also some stacks of clothes that are outgrown but need to be put out in storage in the garage up by the tv and some clothes that need to be ironed.  Again, this is a working house, so that's okay!

Office/Playroom - This room unabashedly is a home for the kids, with toys and books.  They all have a storage place, and I try to keep them in there multiple times a day (the kids do too), but I wouldn't have been frantic if some were on the floor either.  The table you can partially see has folded clothes on it that is waiting to be listed on eBay.  Again, it's a workspace, and it's tidy, but there's stuff there waiting to be done. 

Facing Discouragement

Over my 38 years, I've grown to "know myself" a lot better.  I know, I know, that sounds mighty corny.  But bear with me for a moment.  I am an empathetic "feeler".  Being an introvert, people might not know that immediately, as I also place a high value on emotional modesty.  And that's not all bad.  In fact, I think it's often a beautiful thing, and I wouldn't trade it in order to feel less.  But the flip side of that is that I'm easily prone to discouragement.  And, I'll admit, January's been a month of struggle for me.  The weather, the homeboundedness, the political climate, my partner in life being gone for two weeks.  Probably the biggest struggle I've met with is spiritual discouragement.  Not with the Lord or the Word, mercy no!  But the pre-field ministry has been hard this month.  I've seen so many great successes by fellow pre-fielders.  And that's a glorious thing, praise God! I wouldn't begrudge them that in a heartbeat.  But sometimes, in private moments, the smile slips and discouragement seeps into my heart.  What are WE doing wrong?  What could I do better that would more readily communicate the need to those around me? But that's the trouble right there.  I'm spending too much time thinking about me.  I must keep my eye on the prize, which is to run the race that's been marked out for me, the course that God mapped out specially for ME before the foundations of the earth were even layed.  Although all followers of Jesus Christ share the same end goal of growing in holiness and Christlikeness, my race is not the same as anyone else's race, so why compare?  As Teddy Roosevelt (or maybe Dwight Edwards, but that's neither here nor there) famously said, "Comparison is the thief of joy".  And it's so true.  Here's the best news of all, the antidote to all the discouragement, comparison, and sadness - I don't have to deal with that all on my own and neither do you!  Jesus promised us a Comforter.  The only true and perfect Counselor - the Holy Spirit.