i used to write a lot. that was 6 years ago. i would sit on my back porch at 5pm, with a cold glass of white wine, listen to pandora and i would write. my kids were 3 and 5 and 11. the homeschool day with zoe was done. the boys had had their naps, eaten their snacks and everyone would play outside or sometimes watch 'noggin', which was fine with me and far enough away from the porch that i didn't hear it. i would run here to write. for solace. i would write because i had a lot to say. i would write because i needed to. i would write because i could.
i. miss. that. hour. truth be told, i miss that glass of wine and i miss pandora's music. i miss that porch and those giant water oaks that shaded it. i miss those ages when people didn't have 'devices' and didn't talk back and came to me for a hug not with a request for something else to eat. i miss not having to run back and forth to school to pick up kids from sports and play practice. i miss not having house help and not having guards- the spaciousness that comes from just me and my kids.
that hour was a time for me to breathe. to remember. to appreciate. to make lemonade with life's lemons.
right now, i am in the house alone. completely alone. it happened accidentally and it's fantastic. i can't remember the last time i was completely alone, but in sitting here alone, i have realized how much i have missed it. i also realize how constantly noisy my life is.
last sunday the sermon was on sacrificial giving. primarily financial giving. about tithing and giving to others. it was a challenge to think about what sacrificial giving would look like. living in africa, we are surrounded by opportunities to give. we are surrounded by need. my perspective of 'enough' is in comparison to 'not enough', not in comparison with 'more than enough'. we are constantly bombarded with people who have less than we do, and with the knowledge that one latte is someone's daily wage. it's a hard thing to live with. we are all called to tithe and we are called to give on top of that. we do the best we can. we try to listen to the Spirit and be obedient. i'm sure it seems schizophrenic at times, but for me the greater challenge is not having a hard and fast rule about extra giving but inquiring of God and listening. we are also missionaries. we've given up some things to come live here, there has been sacrifice, and people are making sacrifices to support us. so what do we do with sacrificial giving?
i began to pray about it. and as usual, God had a bunch of good things to say. He reminded me that it's not about my money, it's about my heart. it's about detachment from things. things that i may cling to. it's about trust- and trusting Him not myself to meet my needs. it's about living intentionally not fearfully or defensively.
so i asked if He could please be more specific and as i reflected on what i'm attached to or what i crave and cling to, for me it's not money, it's time. He asked me to look at how i could sacrificially give my time.
now my kids are 10, 11 and 17 with special needs. and there is another one who's 7. now they are big and the house is smaller and they take up a lot of room and a lot more energy. they have these amazing opinions about everything- all of which must be shared- even their opinions about me (not usually asked for). they want to tell me about every single dream they ever had in great detail, they want to share each minute event in their plants vs. zombies game, and they want to recount every tv show they've ever seen, and quiz me on the ages of various actors. honestly, i love them, but 'i don't care!'. it's painful! they still give hugs but there is a lot more asking for another bowl of cereal or a ride somewhere. but for me, mornings have become the worst. i stumble out of bed after jude has woken me and before i even have coffee i am immediately expected to listen to three people telling me there is NOTHING to eat, and asking the location of lost uniforms for the game that day, or help with a costume for 'spirit week' "but what am i going to doooo? i have to leave for school in 15 minutes!" (i don't know why didn't you figure that out last night when i asked if you had everything ready, instead of yelling 'of course i do!' when you clearly didn't). the noise of life.
sacrificially give your time. give it to Me. give it to them. that is what God said and these days i'm all about obedience because i've tried the other way and it doesn't work. so today i got up at 5:30. that's an hour and a half earlier than usual. i had coffee before anyone was awake. i got myself ready for the day, read and prayed and watched the sun come up- in silence. i figured out breakfast and lunches before anyone was awake. i was totally ready for the chaos- uniforms, spirit week, bring it people! and they did. but it was fine. it was calm (er). it was an opportunity for true giving and in doing that, i was given the gift of stillness, of that sunrise, of a quiet cup of coffee.
people grow and life happens and sacrifices look different at different seasons as i cling to different things and then am reminded again, of the letting go of them. in the sacrifice, the release, is the freedom. and maybe in starting my days like this- i will somehow find my way back to here. back to the porch at 5pm with a glass of wine, beside the banana plants, with my now big children coming and going. to breathe. to remember. to appreciate. to make lemonade with life's lemons.
i. miss. that. hour. truth be told, i miss that glass of wine and i miss pandora's music. i miss that porch and those giant water oaks that shaded it. i miss those ages when people didn't have 'devices' and didn't talk back and came to me for a hug not with a request for something else to eat. i miss not having to run back and forth to school to pick up kids from sports and play practice. i miss not having house help and not having guards- the spaciousness that comes from just me and my kids.
that hour was a time for me to breathe. to remember. to appreciate. to make lemonade with life's lemons.
right now, i am in the house alone. completely alone. it happened accidentally and it's fantastic. i can't remember the last time i was completely alone, but in sitting here alone, i have realized how much i have missed it. i also realize how constantly noisy my life is.
last sunday the sermon was on sacrificial giving. primarily financial giving. about tithing and giving to others. it was a challenge to think about what sacrificial giving would look like. living in africa, we are surrounded by opportunities to give. we are surrounded by need. my perspective of 'enough' is in comparison to 'not enough', not in comparison with 'more than enough'. we are constantly bombarded with people who have less than we do, and with the knowledge that one latte is someone's daily wage. it's a hard thing to live with. we are all called to tithe and we are called to give on top of that. we do the best we can. we try to listen to the Spirit and be obedient. i'm sure it seems schizophrenic at times, but for me the greater challenge is not having a hard and fast rule about extra giving but inquiring of God and listening. we are also missionaries. we've given up some things to come live here, there has been sacrifice, and people are making sacrifices to support us. so what do we do with sacrificial giving?
i began to pray about it. and as usual, God had a bunch of good things to say. He reminded me that it's not about my money, it's about my heart. it's about detachment from things. things that i may cling to. it's about trust- and trusting Him not myself to meet my needs. it's about living intentionally not fearfully or defensively.
so i asked if He could please be more specific and as i reflected on what i'm attached to or what i crave and cling to, for me it's not money, it's time. He asked me to look at how i could sacrificially give my time.
now my kids are 10, 11 and 17 with special needs. and there is another one who's 7. now they are big and the house is smaller and they take up a lot of room and a lot more energy. they have these amazing opinions about everything- all of which must be shared- even their opinions about me (not usually asked for). they want to tell me about every single dream they ever had in great detail, they want to share each minute event in their plants vs. zombies game, and they want to recount every tv show they've ever seen, and quiz me on the ages of various actors. honestly, i love them, but 'i don't care!'. it's painful! they still give hugs but there is a lot more asking for another bowl of cereal or a ride somewhere. but for me, mornings have become the worst. i stumble out of bed after jude has woken me and before i even have coffee i am immediately expected to listen to three people telling me there is NOTHING to eat, and asking the location of lost uniforms for the game that day, or help with a costume for 'spirit week' "but what am i going to doooo? i have to leave for school in 15 minutes!" (i don't know why didn't you figure that out last night when i asked if you had everything ready, instead of yelling 'of course i do!' when you clearly didn't). the noise of life.
sacrificially give your time. give it to Me. give it to them. that is what God said and these days i'm all about obedience because i've tried the other way and it doesn't work. so today i got up at 5:30. that's an hour and a half earlier than usual. i had coffee before anyone was awake. i got myself ready for the day, read and prayed and watched the sun come up- in silence. i figured out breakfast and lunches before anyone was awake. i was totally ready for the chaos- uniforms, spirit week, bring it people! and they did. but it was fine. it was calm (er). it was an opportunity for true giving and in doing that, i was given the gift of stillness, of that sunrise, of a quiet cup of coffee.
people grow and life happens and sacrifices look different at different seasons as i cling to different things and then am reminded again, of the letting go of them. in the sacrifice, the release, is the freedom. and maybe in starting my days like this- i will somehow find my way back to here. back to the porch at 5pm with a glass of wine, beside the banana plants, with my now big children coming and going. to breathe. to remember. to appreciate. to make lemonade with life's lemons.
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