Messy

 "the sweet wind of the Holy Spirit does not flow only through tidy lives."

My entire yard is a big swap. Sitting water everywhere. Mud. Ground is squishy when you walk.

Peanut hasn't met a mess she doesn't love. She spent this morning splashing in the puddles, chasing the leaves in the river stream running through our front yard, and creating concoctions with stuff she found and the rain water sitting everywhere.

By the time we came inside for lunch, she was a MESS.

She was wet, covered in mud, sidewalk chalk and dirty water.

It's nearly impossible to clean a short person without ending up messy yourself.

In the list of (MANY) parenting things I've done differently with the wee one is the area of MESS.

I've not only embraced that being six is messy, but I've encouraged the mess. I've nurtured the sensory play, made the cloud dough and moon sand. I've give her baking soda and vinegar and all the expired household stuff to experiment with. We've mixed shaving cream with all kinds of things and explored the texture. I've chased her in the rain, let her splash in every puddle.

I've said countless times "It's okay - that we can wash."

I want her to know in her soul that I'm a person that will climb in the mess with her. And when we are ready, together we will figure out how to clean it up. How to move forward.

Mess is okay.

A confession.

These Mama Warrior posts are facebook hidden from everyone related to me.

It's the reason that they aren't "shareable" (you are welcome to copy and paste - you just can't the easy share).

I realized a few years into writing these that not everyone is comfortable with my mess.

Not everyone can read my mess for what it is - my mess.

Some people feel the need to be critical. Some people feel the need to comment on my oversharing. Many people think I should have this "suck it up" mentality about the ins/outs of my days.

After walking some mess with our own teenagers, I sort of get it.

It's HARD to watch the mess unfold. It's impossible to support without getting messy too.

Because when you truly walk hard with someone, I believe it changes YOU. And change is never pretty.

It's messy.

I think when something some else does bothers YOU - it's about YOU, not about them.

I started changing what I wrote based on how I thought the people closest to me would react.

And then I realized - I'm not called to hide my testimony. My walk.

I feel deep in my soul that I'm called to share my messy with you.

We don't share enough mess as followers of Jesus.

We whine and complain. We create this mom world of "if we can just get to bedtime." But with a smile emoji which somehow makes it all okay? We share the funny mess our toddler made or the lost phone charger meme for our teenagers.

We stay very surface.

Because that's where we are comfortable. In our unchanging comfort zone.

I feel like our greatest joy is found in our biggest mess. And until we learn to authentically walk our own mess, we will never feel the great joy.

And not everyone wants to walk your mess with you.

Honestly, not everyone deserves to walk your mess with you.

Boundaries folks- which is a whole different post.

Mama Warriors, I write these posts for ME.

They are how I process and grow. They are the exhale to the breath I hold most of my day.

I hope sometimes you see a glimpse of your day in them - that you feel seen, heard, valued. That you remember you are loved by Jesus.

I hope you have a place where you walk hard authentically.

If not - message me. I'm an awful housekeeper, a not so great cook but man, I'm a good listener.

I want you all to feel the deep joy that comes from being okay with your own mess.

And I want you to find the people who don't mind your mess.

(hint - they might be over 40 )

Say something

“For those willing to keep heaving themselves toward the light, things can change. What has been lost gradually becomes less important than what is to be found. Curiosity pokes its green head up through the asphalt of grief, and fear of the unknown takes on an element of wonder as the disillusioned turn away from the God who was supposed to be in order to seek the God who is." Barbara Brown Taylor, The Preaching Life

For years I fretted over, prayed over, worried over Peanut's lack of friends.

In our home, we value Peanut's uniqueness.

We love her theatrical approach to life. We are amazed by her creative art. We enjoy her avid love of reading. We are confused by, but appreciate, her dedicated passion for a book series, a character, a collection, etc.

In our home, the fact that Peanut is different is celebrated.

Unfortunately, the reality of life is that kids, or grown ups, who are different are not always celebrated in social circles.

While it's always been okay with Peanut if your interests are different than hers, it's not always the case with other kids.

A little over a year ago, we finally found Peanut's tribe.

They all have many interests in common BUT they also have differences.

And they celebrate and appreciate the differences.

They don't all watch the same shows, listen to the same music, or worship in the same denominations.

Interesting isn't it?

That a group of middle school girls can figure out that the character of someone's heart far outweighs any likes or dislikes?

As I sat and watched them yesterday, I was reminded that helping Peanut become a person of character is one of my most important goals.

And we do that by modeling.

And by talking about hard things.

I'm aware that I'm often in group settings where I'm different. Unique you might say . I'm also allergic to small talk and only know how to overshare.

Therefore I tend to choose what I share based on my audience. How close are we? How comfortable am I with you? Have you earned my trust?

Recently I shared something in a setting I thought I was comfortable in. A setting I thought what I shared would be received at minimum with grace.

The person said nothing.

Couldn't even make eye contact with me.

I've been mulling over this.........now, my mama always said "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."

I'd wager that there are times when saying nothing is worse than saying something "not nice."

I shared this with Peanut because I think there are times when we say nothing because we don't know what to say.

When someone shares something with us, we don't have to pass judgement. We don't have to offer advice.

We can literally just say "Gosh, that must have been hard FOR YOU." Or "Thanks for sharing that with me."

We can say something.

I shared this with Peanut because as one unique soul to another, we are going to be in rooms where what is on our heart is not going to be the common opinion.

And hopefully we are both spaces where people feel safe to share a thought that may be unpopular. Or maybe just hard for them to share.

I hope we both will find words.

Mama Warriors, navigating friendships and differences is something that has to be taught. And practiced. Just like multiplication facts.

Let's be people who can look others in the eye and appreciate that we don't have to agree but we can be kind.

Let's be people who find words for others.

VHS

"God's will isn't about the things we achieve, it's about the people we become."

There are several things I've found that are a true test of marriage. 

For us, one of them is a yard sale. There's the getting ready for the yard sale (how many tshirts does one person need? is the 1992 Shiloh Generals one REALLY a need?). There's the dragging all your "treasures" onto your yard. Then, there's the sitting in the heat all day haggling with strangers over 50 cents. 

During one such yard sale, I hear an older woman ask me "Which wedding is this?" I'm guessing she thought I'd taped a royal wedding. 

Nope. My wedding. 

My husband heard me say "Let's get rid of all the VHS tapes." 

And so MY WEDDING ended up in my front yard. On sale for 50 cents. 

In sorting boxes this weekend, I uncovered that rescued VHS tape (which has since been converted to a DVD) and had to laugh at the memory (a decade gives you perspective). 

As I'm unearthing all kinds of memories in this Tidying Up adventure, I keep circling back to Matthew 6. 

19 “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20 But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

While I want to save a few momentos here and there, I want to make room for the future. 

I want there to be so few THINGS that I don't have to be the keeper of that knowledge. That everyone will now know where things are. Amen mamas? 

Space to breathe. Time to spend with my family rather than constantly battling the mess of our home. 

I feel this way about my spiritual walk too. 

I feel heavy some days from carrying around the past. 

The shoulds. The regrets. The guilt. 

We weren't designed to be so burdened.

We are saved so we can live a life only carrying with us what sparks joy. 

So, as I touch every single item in our house, I've been mentally walking myself through the last few years. The challenges. The struggles. I'm carrying a backpack full of negativity. 

I'm asking myself what of those times do I want to take forward with me?

The guilt of the mother I wasn't when I was too sick to be that person? 

Or the joy in knowing that it made me have compassion for others, and my kids too? 

The should haves in the hard teen years? 

Or the knowledge that I've been authentic and transparent with my kids - I've showed them how to walk the unknown? How to apologize?

I'm setting free boxes of stuff sure. 

But I'm also setting free that which I do not want to take forward. Fear. Guilt. 

Mama Warriors, it's okay to tidy your soul. 

To set it free. 

To re-frame how you remember the challenges. To change your inner self talk. It's important. 

It's a LONG process. 

It's slow. 

But you are worthy of putting that backpack down.

Pressure

 “Faith, for me, isn't an argument, a catechism, a philosophical “proof.” It is instead a lens, a way of experiencing life, and a willingness to act.”

― Sara Miles, Take This Bread: A Radical Conversion

Every 4- 6 months I take Peanut to the orthodontist.

Each time, for the last two years, they've said the same thing.

"Definitely needs braces. But not yet."

This past week we went, and out of habit, I think she and I were both expecting another "not yet" experience.

When instead we learned, "yet" had finally arrived.

Peanut asked the kind employee "Will they hurt?"

A common question I'm sure.

She was truthful in answering "yes, yes it will hurt. But, you will get used to it and in time it will hurt less."

I let Peanut make this choice.

Many people go through life with an overbite and crooked teeth. Not the end of the world.

If you CHOOSE to change this, it will be UNCOMFORTABLE.

I reminded Peanut that she can do hard things BUT she has to want to.

As I sat in the waiting room while the tech put her new braces on, I thought about that question.

"Will it hurt?"

How many times would I have declined something if I had known that in fact, not only yes it would hurt, but it might be the most painful season ever?

My first year of teaching?

Worst year ever at the time. Some definite bright spots, but in general those children, and the admin, ate me alive. I was woefully unprepared for both. Did it hurt? Most definitely.

Marriage?

Goodness the things you promise when you are young and hopeful? Again, I was likely woefully unprepared. I had never experienced marriage done well. No idea what that looked like. Have I experienced emotional hurts in the 24 years? Most definitely.

Parenthood?

Has parenting been unbelievable hard? Has it hurt to give so much and feel like you receive so little? Most definitely.

Religion?

Has developing a relationship with Jesus DESPITE religious folks influence been hard? Most definitely. We are not presenting the gospel in a way that is congruent with "what would Jesus do?" most days in many places.

If I had known how hard all the major things in my life would be, if someone had said "Hey this will be hard" - would I have still chosen them?

The thing about growth is that it's uncomfortable.

We are moving Peanut's teeth and jaw. Shifting it all.

That doesn't happen without a little pressure.

And pressure feels uncomfortable.

Pressure, discomfort, that's a sign of growth.

Each time Peanut complains about how her mouth hurts, we try some of the strategies on the list from the orthodontist and we remind ourself "growth is uncomfortable."

I'm thankful for each of my growing seasons. Teaching, marriage, parenthood, faith - those have all been hard earned, hard fought for, hard seasons.

But they have absolutely been worth it.

I'm a better teacher, wife, mother, and follower of Christ for each of those. For all of those.

Mama Warriors, in order for our kids to grow - they have to be able to be uncomfortable.

We can't follow them around stopping the uncomfortable from happening.

We have to allow the uncomfortable or we stop the growth.

One of the best ways to do this is to model our own uncomfortable growing seasons.

Say out loud "Gosh, this is hard but I can do hard things."

Growth doesn't come without a little pressure.

Blisters

"Drowning means suffocating. And if we choose to stay underwater without kicking our way to the surface, we eventually forget how to swim."

Our Xman started baseball practice with a new team last week. By the end of the second practice, his hands were covered in blisters (that picture is a week of healing - I spared us all the visual of the early days). 

New batting gloves, bad bat tape and a motion he hasn't done in some time created the perfect trio to tear up his hands. 

He hasn't missed a practice. 

See the only way to really heal those hands is to push through. We need the blisters to callus over and for his hands to toughen up. 

You know how you get tough? You keep at it. 

Each day before practice, we cover them in liquid bandage, gauze, and athletic tape. Each night after practice, we slather them in antibiotic ointment and give them air. We prepare as much as we can, but he still swings a bat MANY times every practice. 

"When you know your WHY, you can endure any HOW."

You see - Xman wants to have a great season. He already feels a sense of commitment to these new kids, to this new team. To do his best. To be ready by game one for the competition they will face. 

I've been thinking this week that there are many parallels between his walk and my spiritual walk. 

Growth is frequently painful. 

We are not a people that embrace change. We like the comfort of the familiar. 

Discomfort is often taken as a sign that something is wrong. 

But what if it is a sign that something is RIGHT?

What if in your discomfort you embraced the idea that God is preparing you for the big challenge you will face? 

What if God is roughing you up a bit so you will be stronger? Tougher? So you develop the kind of roots that withstand any storm? 

What if we thought - this is preparing me for what comes next? 

Mama Warriors, growth is inevitable. I vividly remember telling our now 16 year old that I was going to freeze her on her 4th birthday. But yet the birthdays kept rolling.

Growth is evidence of LIFE.

Is He alive in you if you don't see evidence of growth? 

The blisters will hurt for a bit, the discomfort can be staggering. 

"being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:6

But the discomfort of today reveals the possibilities of tomorrow.

I made chili the day he died

 "Bring us peace , God,

enough for this quiet moment.

Enough to quiet the questions with no answers.

And, while you're at it, pencil us in for tomorrow, too." Kate Bowler

I made chili the day he died.

I didn't remember that when I made my menu plan for this week.

I didn't remember that as I grocery shopped for the ingredients.

As I dumped the cans of chili beans in the crock pot I remembered.

I made chili the day he died.

I don't know why I remember that miniscule detail of that day.

The minute I dumped that first can I could see the doctor's face, hear my mother's wail, see my siblings arrive one at a time and have to give the news again and again.

I don't know why it came rushing back, along with fresh tears, on Wednesday morning.

In the days, and months, after his death I've learned that grief is overshadowed by the daily living.

There's paperwork to fill out. Decisions to be made. Bills that are due.

The sadness has to come second to all the tasks that have to be done.

I've attended two funerals since his death.

Grief doesn't pause death either it seems.

I'm finding grief acts as a "scratch and reveal" chipping away at things long buried.

Family dynamics. Childhood baggage. Trauma.

Death is like a copper penny scratching away at each one......reminding me of all that is there. To be dealt with.

Or not?

Death reminds me that relationships are complicated.

And causes me to evaluate my current ones.

Emotional me just wants to take chili off the menu.

If I never make chili again, do I have to remember the vivid details of that day?

If I never make chili again, can I take my penny and put it away? No more scratch and reveal?

I'm pretty sure the only way through a hard thing is through.

I haven't unpacked all of this yet.

For now, I made chili the day he died.