week one of summer vacation has come to an end. seven more to go. i feel kind of terrible that i just said that- but it points to my, of course, lack of planning.
i try. i try to be that mom. the mom with the schedule- the already researched art projects, the every thursday swimming afternoon, planned meals, always a plethora of healthy snacks.
but. i have to admit, i'm just not that mom. i'm the other mom. the one with a list of summer ideas scribbled on the white board, along side of other things i'm afraid i'll forget if i don't write them down like "buy new whiteboard markers" because i can barely see my list.
summer vacation, with out the schedule of school, shines a nasty light on my other-mom-ness. it brings it screamingly out into the open for all of us to experience- and suffer the consequences of. every morning begins with this comment from the peanut gallery: "mooommmmm, what are we going to do today?"
me: "umm, i don't know but maybe i can have a cup of coffee first."
them: "it says on the board, horseback riding today"
me: "no it doesn't- that's just a list, it's just things we could do sometime."
them: "no mom, it's fifth down on the list and today is friday, so we should be doing it today."
me: "it's not a schedule! it's suggestions!"
them: "but we haven't done anything yet!"
me: "summer is a long time. if we do that list this week- we'll be all done! we need to stretch it out."
but i looked at their little bored, desperate eyes and thought of my day at home with them- batting each other with whatever stick they could find, the revolving kitchen door in search of food every 15 minutes, and thought maybe today would be a good day to ride because today had started off badly for me.
i didn't want to get up because i was afraid to check my email and hear bad news about my very sick friend. i wanted to hole up under the covers and just not have to deal- because "not having anything to do" seemed like a pretty pathetic complaint compared to me losing a dear friend on the other side of the world. today i didn't really feel like being a mom and having to plan and entertain, i just wanted wanted to be taken care of.
i don't think i even realized how deeply i was carrying the sadness of this far away potential loss until i snapped at the ugandan version of a metermaid for asking me to pay (what mike pointed out was 8 cents) for leaving my car for 2 minutes to go to a bank machine. i literally argued by the side of the road and did the math- explaining that i really owed him only 10 ugandan shillings, not the 200 he claimed. he refused my crazy 1/2 penny offering and i drove away-having to explain to the four kids why he wasn't a jerk for asking for money- that actually i was. oops.
the stable was great- the three older kids rode- rosie was too scared to even pet the horses- but it was a good time.
but then we went for lunch at a local ugandan roadside place- and it was more of the meter maid scene.
i was having a rough time. things that shouldn't have set me off, did set me off. instead of listening to my inner voice, i ignored her. i chose the paths of most resistance- i actually asked them how it's possible to run out chapatis? not a good moment.
i surely set the tone for that meal- no surprise it didn't go so smoothly.
but what i found so amazing was that i'd started that day asking God to walk with me. even though i got out of bed cautiously, i'd read my bible, i'd prayed, i'd asked God to hold those i love and to help me through this day. so just imagine if i hadn't? it would have been a full disaster!
the night before i'd read something, from somewhere about a jesuit priest who was writing about our constant search for Gods' will in our life- and how we need to realize that Gods will for our lives is found in what happens to us every day. the here and now of our days is the living will of God. so it's what we do with our moments- the ones in front of us- that matter. not our big plans, our grand ideas, the exciting stuff. God's will is there too, but mostly it's hiding in the conversations with meter-maids and waitresses who run out of chapatis.
doh.
reflection is so good, and humbling and hopefully realigning- and often, for me, embarrassing- but that's okay.
i'm off to bed. tomorrow i get to return to luweero - to our mobile village clinic- to hopefully allow the will of God to be in the doctoring small places. to let the day be what it will be. and to keep accepting it when i get home to four small children who wonder what on earth we'll do tomorrow.
i try. i try to be that mom. the mom with the schedule- the already researched art projects, the every thursday swimming afternoon, planned meals, always a plethora of healthy snacks.
but. i have to admit, i'm just not that mom. i'm the other mom. the one with a list of summer ideas scribbled on the white board, along side of other things i'm afraid i'll forget if i don't write them down like "buy new whiteboard markers" because i can barely see my list.
summer vacation, with out the schedule of school, shines a nasty light on my other-mom-ness. it brings it screamingly out into the open for all of us to experience- and suffer the consequences of. every morning begins with this comment from the peanut gallery: "mooommmmm, what are we going to do today?"
me: "umm, i don't know but maybe i can have a cup of coffee first."
them: "it says on the board, horseback riding today"
me: "no it doesn't- that's just a list, it's just things we could do sometime."
them: "no mom, it's fifth down on the list and today is friday, so we should be doing it today."
me: "it's not a schedule! it's suggestions!"
them: "but we haven't done anything yet!"
me: "summer is a long time. if we do that list this week- we'll be all done! we need to stretch it out."
but i looked at their little bored, desperate eyes and thought of my day at home with them- batting each other with whatever stick they could find, the revolving kitchen door in search of food every 15 minutes, and thought maybe today would be a good day to ride because today had started off badly for me.
i didn't want to get up because i was afraid to check my email and hear bad news about my very sick friend. i wanted to hole up under the covers and just not have to deal- because "not having anything to do" seemed like a pretty pathetic complaint compared to me losing a dear friend on the other side of the world. today i didn't really feel like being a mom and having to plan and entertain, i just wanted wanted to be taken care of.
i don't think i even realized how deeply i was carrying the sadness of this far away potential loss until i snapped at the ugandan version of a metermaid for asking me to pay (what mike pointed out was 8 cents) for leaving my car for 2 minutes to go to a bank machine. i literally argued by the side of the road and did the math- explaining that i really owed him only 10 ugandan shillings, not the 200 he claimed. he refused my crazy 1/2 penny offering and i drove away-having to explain to the four kids why he wasn't a jerk for asking for money- that actually i was. oops.
the stable was great- the three older kids rode- rosie was too scared to even pet the horses- but it was a good time.
but then we went for lunch at a local ugandan roadside place- and it was more of the meter maid scene.
i was having a rough time. things that shouldn't have set me off, did set me off. instead of listening to my inner voice, i ignored her. i chose the paths of most resistance- i actually asked them how it's possible to run out chapatis? not a good moment.
i surely set the tone for that meal- no surprise it didn't go so smoothly.
but what i found so amazing was that i'd started that day asking God to walk with me. even though i got out of bed cautiously, i'd read my bible, i'd prayed, i'd asked God to hold those i love and to help me through this day. so just imagine if i hadn't? it would have been a full disaster!
the night before i'd read something, from somewhere about a jesuit priest who was writing about our constant search for Gods' will in our life- and how we need to realize that Gods will for our lives is found in what happens to us every day. the here and now of our days is the living will of God. so it's what we do with our moments- the ones in front of us- that matter. not our big plans, our grand ideas, the exciting stuff. God's will is there too, but mostly it's hiding in the conversations with meter-maids and waitresses who run out of chapatis.
doh.
reflection is so good, and humbling and hopefully realigning- and often, for me, embarrassing- but that's okay.
i'm off to bed. tomorrow i get to return to luweero - to our mobile village clinic- to hopefully allow the will of God to be in the doctoring small places. to let the day be what it will be. and to keep accepting it when i get home to four small children who wonder what on earth we'll do tomorrow.
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