Chasing Joy

Psalm 100

A psalm. For giving grateful praise.

Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth.

Worship the Lord with gladness;

    come before him with joyful songs.

Know that the Lord is God.

    It is he who made us, and we are his;

    we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving

    and his courts with praise;

    give thanks to him and praise his name.

For the Lord is good and his love endures forever;

    his faithfulness continues through all generations.

My son thinks our dog is hilarious. Dayton's first true giggle was at Bode jumping around the yard and barking. And this Indian summer when we would walk around and around the pond, just to escape the claustrophobia of our house, we would watch Bode chase butterflies. I'd never actually seen a dog chase butterflies before but leave it to our dog to do it. And then Dayton wasn't the only one giggling. It was hilarious. Our enthusiastic border collie would bound and leap after the butterflies leading him on an erratic chase around the pond. But eventually Bode would lose sight of the butterfly...or interest. Something else interesting would catch his attention or it just wasn't that much fun anymore to chase something so elusive as a butterfly.

I chase joy in the same way. Around and around in circles, bounding and leaping with no methodology to straighten my course, no plan to ensure success. And always, inevitably, I lose interest. Something more interesting and easier to catch steals my attention. Or I just give up all together. It's too hard, this joy thing. It's a nice idea but it's just not me. I wasn't made that way. Some people just can't be joyous...or joyful...whichever.

But that just isn't so. It can't be so. 

First, because the Bible says otherwise. And second, because if that's true then I'm doomed. I'm stuck in my Eeyore to Tigger to Eeyore cycle of my own nature. 

A drama queen since birth, I see the world through a dramatic lens. Gloom! Doom! Stress! Worry! Anxiety!!

EVERYBODY PANIC!!!

But I'm the only one squawking. My mother once said my brother is a duck, the rain waters just roll off his feathers, it doesn't rattle him. I, however, am a trumpeter swan...graceful and peaceful when the weather's just right, but when the rain starts to fall it's time to panic. A swan having a cow. A lovely sight.

And while Christmas is supposed to be all peace on Earth, good will to men, and joy to the world...I'm over here wringing my hands and biting my fingernails. I'm a Scrooge in Nephew Fred's clothing. I seem to embrace Christmas but underneath I'm really fretting and fussing and bah-humbugging about plans and people and people who get in the way of my plans. My plans, my plans, my precious plans. Like Scrooge and his gold, no one better interfere with my plans. Or else the squawking begins. This is not joy. This is not Christmas.

I could list you a thousand reasons excuses for this irritating behavior. I could get all Dr.Phil on you and explain from a psychological point of view why Christmas is now wrapped up with anxiety, why my tinsel is perpetually in a tangle. But there's no real point in it. Talking about what's wrong, doesn't do one blessed thing to move toward what is right. Or perhaps more importantly...righteous. 

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, 

by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, 

present your requests to God.

Philippians 4:6

So recently convicted of this ridiculous, self-centered behavior I've started chasing joy again.. But not in an erratic chase of circles where I'll eventually just get bored or tired or both and give up. This time I have a plan. And I have some tools.

1) I'm reading Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts. It's a book I've been avoiding for almost two years because I knew it would blast me from my comfort zone. And while I hate my comfort zone because it's stinks...I'm comfortable there. But I'm embracing the uncomfortable to move toward God and His joy.

2) I'm starting my own list of one thousand gifts. One thousand blessings from God, one thousand things I'm thankful for, one thousand things to celebrate. And the thing is...now that I've started counting, I see them everywhere. I would like to share this list on here because it may inspire somebody else, but I just can't commit to that. I don't have time to log into this blog as often as I'd like and I'm afraid that I will use that ask an excuse. Can't write in the blog, not worth writing down at all! (I know, because I did that before two years ago...)

3) Instead of asking God for things, even the right/rightoues things, I am choosing to only thank Him instead for the next two weeks. A friend of mine did this and she said it changed her life. I believe her. Because it's been a mere 24 hours and I already feel a change. I think this must be what detoxing feels like.

4) In a similar vein, when my instinct is to complain, grumble, nag, or otherwise squawk, I'm choosing to thank God for that very circumstance instead. This is hard but it is the very re-training and re-shaping that I need. It is taking every thought captive and making it submit. It is choosing to be thankful in all situations. Because the fact of the matter is, I am one of those people who will cry (ah-hem, flip my lid) over spilled milk. And that doesn't honor God, draw me nearer to God, or bringing me any closer to catching that butterfly.

5) Last, I have community and this means some accountability. I've always shied away from accountability because I like to hide. But I won't succeed and I'll never change unless I bare my soul and all my ugly and ask for some help. We are communal creatures, especially women, especially me. So here I am, ready to accept some love and help and prayers from my own community. And my community is pieced together through Facebook and emails and blogs and text and face-to-face friendships. This is community for a postmodern mom chasing joy.

And this time I'm not just chasing joy, but choosing joy. It goes hand in hand. When we choose joy, we catch it and then we give it away. I must choose to be thankful, to celebrate, to wear joy on my lips and harbor it in my heart. And then I will have caught it. It will be mine, no longer an elusive butterfly.

This blog started out being my journey towards a merry heart. And if you've followed me from the beginning, despite my long periods of silence, you know that I've wrestled with this. One minute I'm chasing the butterfly and the next I've seemingly given up and moved on with life. And I have no delusions of conquering this once and for all, I will always struggle. But this feels more like a real change. The real re-wiring of my heart that I have craved for so, so long. And what better time than Christmas?

I imagine that the shepherds, feeling a bit foolish, were chasing joy when they went from stable to stable in search of a babe in swaddling clothes. The wise men were chasing joy as they followed that mysterious star toward the child savior. Mary and Joseph must've been chasing joy as her belly grew swollen with the life of the King inside her. They couldn't have been the type to fuss and fret and squawk so they must've been chasing joy. Anna and Simeon caught their joy at the temple when Jesus came to be dedicated to God. Elizabeth and Zechaeriah caught their joy with the birth of their son, the prelude of the Messiah. These people didn't only chase joy but they chose it in their obedience. Joy is everywhere in the Christmas story, from the lips of Mary in her magnificat, to the returning of Zechariah's voice, to the alleulia of angels. Joy abounds at Christmas time.

And this Christmas, I am choosing joy.

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, 

and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: 

and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them, 

Fear not: for, behold, I bring you 

good tidings of great joy, 

which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day 

in the city of David a Saviour, 

which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; 

Ye shall find the babe 

wrapped in swaddling clothes, 

lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel 

a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

Glory to God in the highest, 

and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Luke 2:9-13

A Few Brief Weeks

Last night I was sitting on the bed with Bode, he had just finished drinking the milk from my cereal bowl and was staring at me with his big brown goo-goo eyes. Bode has this way of looking at you with this expression that just says, "you're so pretty." There's a reason every girl that comes into our home falls in love with this furry rascal. But anyway, I was petting him and talking to him and I realized--in a few brief weeks I won't be doing that. In a few weeks Bode will be wondering what the heck in the world (a favorite phrase borrowed from one of my favorite five year olds) is going on. In eight weeks or less everything will change.

I have to admit I'm scared. Excited. But scared. I've never even held a brand new newborn, let alone diapered one or fed one. I know that no matter what happens--a natural birth or a c-section--I will not have experienced pain, adrenaline, and anxiety like that. It's all so new. We didn't end up taking birthing classes as our schedules conflicted with the only session our hospital offered. Part of me wishes that we could have and part of me thinks that maybe it's a good thing. There's enough for me to get wound up about and I tend to take information and run with it, rather than simply being informed.

As I'm writing this I'm getting ready to go see a hematologist because my blood work looked 'unusual'. On one level, I'm not worried and on a whole other level, I am. I don't really have enough information about what was unusual to be worried, but anytime a doctor is sending you to a specialist because they don't understand the results seems like an okay time to be at least a smidge concerned. I bring this up because it's these experiences and others that make me join the club of third trimester women who just want to have the baby and move on with life!

But there is this other part of me, a larger part of me, that wants to hold on to this for as long as possible. Not only because I feel and fear that I'm not ready, but because I love knowing that he's so safe and secure in there. There's no doubt about it that my son is strong and healthy, all of the tests and double-checking is to make sure that I'm okay. And I feel okay most of the time, so I'm pretty sure I'm fine. So I like having him all safe and contained. And where my body just does what it's supposed to do to take care of him. Maybe that's the most incredible part of being pregnant. I don't have to think about it. Sure, I have to make some safe and smart choices, but it's not up to me to think about growing his spleen, or transporting food through the umbilical cord. I don't have to feed him, change him, or rock him to sleep--it just happens inside of me. And when this is over...when he's born and joins the human race...I will have to meet his every need.

Thank God (literally, not figuratively or flippantly) I have Curtis. I have no idea how single moms or military moms do this alone. Curtis has been and will continue to be this wonderful rock. Sure, he's made his fair share of dumb remarks, as all husbands do, but for the most part, he's kept his yap shut when I've been crazy and supported me when I've been scared. He's helped me get the nursery ready and gone to as many appointments with me as he could so far. That bit is getting harder because of his new job--in fact, I'm going to the specialist alone today--but I know if he could, he would go with me. And I know he's going to be an incredible father. New, like me, and probably unsure, like me, but he'll be hands-on and excited and exactly what our son needs. I just know it.

So maybe I have to give myself the same credit. Curtis has no more experience with babies than I do really but I know he'll be great. Because he loves him, he'll figure it out. Because we both love him, and we love each other, we'll figure it out together.

And poor Bode...I know that eventually he'll be crazy about his little baby brother. I figure when our son starts eating cheerios and throwing food everywhere. But until then, I might need to find some little doggy ear plugs...and write myself a few reminders to throw him an extra treat every now and then. He's such a good boy and I'll miss our cuddles, even if I am upgrading to baby cuddles.

Changing of Seasons

I've never been an Autumn enthusiast. It may go back to this one time when I jumped in a pile of leaves and landed in a pile of dog poop. Totally traumatizing. But this year I've been downright anxious to be able to flip the calendar to September, thereby making summer officially over. I even changed my blog background early to ring in Autumn's approach. (Don't you just love the owl? I'm really digging this owl trend for Fall this year)

We've got a surprise pumpkin patch growing around our flagpole so I'm looking forward to carving pumpkins this year and roasting the seeds. I want to make some Thanksgiving decorations for the house. I'm so excited for apple cider and doughnuts. We have a bonfire planned for the youth group.

And I have to confess, I'm already preparing for Christmas. I know, I'm as bad as Wal-mart trotting out the Christmas things with the back-to-school supplies. But this year I am bound and determined to make some gifts. Last year I was full of plans and good intentions but very little materialized. By starting in September I should be able to get a few things completed at least. At the top of the list are stockings for Curtis, me, Shiloh, and Bode. I think Bode will enjoy Christmas and I want to have a special New Year's Celebration since we adopted him last New Year's. Last night I pulled out all of my Christmas fabric and anything else red or green. I envisioned turning it into all sorts of things--wreaths, stockings, yo-yos, garland, ornaments. I can't wait to get started. I'm sure I will share some of my crafting adventures on here!

I think this summer was hard for me. In fact, I know it was. Stress crept in from all sides and I'm very ready to put summer 2011 in the books. I love the changing of the seasons. Each new season with its change of shoes and coats invites a change of mind and perspective. As the temperatures cool and the scenery changes I'm invited to change, too. I don't have a favorite season, I love the beginning of them all and I find that I am always ready to see them end.

Perhaps this is true about the seasons of life, as well. It's exciting to begin a new stage of life, but the readiness to move on seems to come just as the change is necessary. I feel like I'm just here on the edge of a life change, fidgeting and jumping so ready for the next season of my life. But I can't rush that anymore than I can rush the coming of Fall or Winter. Each must come in its time.

But in the meanwhile I can celebrate the changing of leaves from green to reds and oranges. I can relish the dropping temperatures and strain my eyes for the glimpse of that first precious snowflake. I can drink up all the sounds, smells, and flavors of Autumn and the promises of Winter. And eventually my season will change, and oh, how thrilling it will be.

Confessions of a Perfectionist

I remember being 14 or 15 and making plans for my life. I was working at the history museum with my mom, it was summer. I was in the old meetinghouse, kept cool and dim by the long shades over the windows, all alone with my thoughts and my dreams. Pensive by nature I delved deep into my own heart, trying to make sense of what I felt and what I wanted. And I made a bunch of plans for my life, for the man I would marry, for the family I would have. It seemed like a necessary thing to do. These were plans I resolved deep within myself, plans that would prevent pain and harvest happiness. And, truthfully, there is part of me still clinging desperately to those plans.

With some distance between myself and the old me I can see what I was really trying to do. I was grasping for control, I was groping for some order. And the only thing I felt that I could control was my own future, my own family of someday. This was a reaction to my parents' divorce, that I am sure. It's strange, there is a distance of years and forgiveness between the divorce and now. I've let go of so much, I've stopped letting this singular event be the lens though which I experience every other event of my life. And it seems that as the big wounds heal, I find smaller scars I never noticed before. Thankfully, when I find these scrapes and scars it doesn't devastate at me, as in years before. I puzzle over it, I ponder it, I hold it at a distance and figure it out. It doesn't define me, I won't let it. Instead, I define it. And this is what I've been thinking about.

This desire for control, for plans, for creating expectations that aren't fair or altogether reasonable to expect. It's that grasping for sense, for something to hold onto, for something over which I alone can be sovereign. But it's a fallacy. There is nothing over which I alone can be sovereign. There will always be other people contributing to my world and to my experience. For that matter there will always be weather, traffic, and bad Internet connections interfering with my plans. I truly cannot control my world.

And I cannot manufacture the family I always wanted, the one I planned. At twenty years old I sacrificed my dreams for the husband I had imagined. Broken-hearted and devastated for the second time I decided that whatever I had planned for at 14 was an impossibility. I gave it up. And within six months I met my husband. Not the man I had planned, but the man I needed. Not a Cary Grant, but a Jimmy Stewart. Practical, down-to-earth, compassionate and sweet. Never mind that books bore him to death and his favorite part of musicals is always the part where someone fights. He's the man I couldn't have planned for, the one I couldn't have imagined. But I had to release my expectations to find him, and release them again to let him have a fighting chance.

I tend to choke the life, the chance, the joy out of everything in my life with my lists and plans and expectations. Planning my wedding was more of a nightmare than a dream. I ended up in tears when I watched most of our guests leave before our first dance. This wasn't what I planned! People weren't following my script and I didn't know how to cope. Our honeymoon suffered the fate of my over-planning. I had over thought things and it didn't work out how I had imagined. My thinking about things too much had led to making a stupid choice to save some money, and when it didn't work out, I was again in tears.

Every time my husband and I plan to go somewhere I get sick to my stomach. My mom says I get too excited and my system can't handle it. And it especially can't handle the devastation I feel when things don't go well. Our trip to Cleveland to see Les Mis prompted this discussion and this post. We think I got food poisoning from the restaurant in the hotel...but then again...maybe I was just sick with expectations that couldn't be met.

Now, and this is important,  I can't and I won't renounce the whole thing. There is something to be said for making plans and being prepared. Dreams are a good thing, perhaps even a gift from God. They inspire us, keep us going, and give us a method by which to achieve.But the fanatic and frenetic energy with which I do the whole thing is what causes the damage. I create expectations that cannot be met, and I am only left with varying degrees of disappointment. I rejoice in what worked out, but I always notice what wasn't quite right. This makes everything bittersweet, every glass can only ever be half full. Or perhaps full but smudged with fingerprints. Never perfect.

I think spiritually we all long for perfection because we had it once. There are echoes of Eden crying out that this imperfection isn't what we were created for. We were designed for perfection but must live in brokenness. No one feels that crippling reality more than the perfectionist. But we have been given an out, a way to freedom...accepting that perfection simply will not happen this side of heaven, but life can still be beautiful.

Some of the best memories I have are from the messiness of life when things didn't go as planned. When we had to improvise to make the best of things. When life takes you off script you can melt down or you can improvise. I am learning to improvise.

I still dream of my someday family. I still have plans and ideas for those little ones I've yet to conceive but pray for everyday. But the deepest prayer of my heart is that I will learn how to stop this great expecting. What I want most of all for that someday family is that they will not have a mama mired down in plans and expectations. I don't want this scar of mine to become hereditary or contagious. I don't want my husband to tiptoe around his frenetic wife and feel that his plans will never be as grandiose as mine, and therefore, not good enough for me. I want to be free to plan but not control, to dream but not build my world in those dreams.

That girl in the meetinghouse at the museum12 or 13 years ago...she meant well. She was hurting, probably scared, probably angry...not just at the divorce...but at being a teenager, at being young. Those years were full of disappointment and frustration (as well as beauty, laughter, friendship, and fun, I must add). Teen years always, always, always are, if we're all honest. And I look at her with compassion, but I can't honor her plans anymore. She simply didn't know what she was talking about, she didn't really know what she wanted. She didn't want control, she wanted security, she didn't want compulsive plans, she wanted safety.

And here she is today. A woman safe and secure in spite of the plans which didn't come to fruition or the ones which changed shape several times. A woman ready to let go of one more hurt in order to be stronger. A woman, wobbly like a toddler, learning how to step into uncertainty and embrace the unexpected, trusting the strong hands of the Father who alone controls.

This post doesn't signify the end of the lesson, it is not the reflections of triumph, but the promise of a future change. More like a caterpillar entering the cocoon then the butterfly leaving it, more like that wobbly toddler just starting to step than the adult resting from the run. My inspiration, I feel compelled to explain, is my five month old niece, not even able to crawl just yet...but trying, flexing those muscles, noticing new strength every day. If she can learn, so can I. She's got her whole life ahead of her, and so do I. A life of beautiful dreams and just-right expectations. I want her to learn from me. There are two ways we learn things from older generations. Looking at them and saying, never will I be like that. Or looking at them and saying, I hope to be like that.

Here's to becoming the latter.

(Sign)Posts on A Journey

Commit. My word for the year. Unlike words such as 'joy', 'patience', or even 'prayer', my word doesn't speak to one specific goal or attribute. And I think God designed it that way. He pressed the word on my heart, I know it's the one word in all the words I know that He wanted me to focus on and filter all my prayers through. Commit. But to what?

1. To being committed.
• Serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord, not people. (Ephesians 6:7)
• I tend to be non-committal. Sometimes I just look for a way to flake out. I suppose that is the curse of modern society, but I am called to be above that. If I say I will do it, do it. Because whatever I do it's for the Lord. Even if it doesn't look or feel like it.
2. To believing with the purest most refined belief that anything is possible for she who believes.
• But you must really believe it will happen and have no doubt in your heart. I tell you, you can pray for anything, and if you believe that you’ve received it, it will be yours. (Mark 11:23-24)
• That Even I Could Receive a Miracle
3. To loving
• No one has ever seen God. But if we love each other, God lives in us, and his love is brought to full expression in us.(1 John 4:12)
• 'To love another person is to see the face of God'--LesMis
• Loving my husband the way God intended, loving my family the way God intended, loving my friends, my students, the youth, my neighbors, my enemies. Loving the way God intended. Not the same for each person or relationship, but the way that God designed.
4. To teaching
1. The teaching of your word gives light,so even the simple can understand.(Psalm 119:130)
2. Until I get there, focus on reading the Scriptures to the church, encouraging the believers, and teaching them. (1 Timothy 4:13)
3. But anyone who obeys God’s laws and teaches them will be called great in the Kingdom of Heaven. (Matthew 5:19)
4. Teach, encourage, give light. I must be committed to sharing what I know, what I have been taught or else it is hiding my light under a bushel. And that would be pointless.
5. To writing
• God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another. (1 Peter 4:10)
• I write because it's what I was created to do. I know this now. I've stopped fighting it, or wanting to change it,  or believing that I have to be writing something important to be writing at all. I write because it blesses God.
6. To leading
• But Moses protested to God, “Who am I to appear before Pharaoh? Who am I to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt?”  God answered, “I will be with you." (Exodus 3:11-12)
• "Give me the wisdom and knowledge to lead them properly, for who could possibly govern this great people of yours?” (2 Chronicles 1:10)
• Although I've resisted and fought against it, God has given me some leadership qualities. There are areas where I need to be committed to forging ahead, perhaps forging a new path, and lead people. It's a terrifying thought, and really very humbling because like Moses and Solomon, I realize I can only do it with God.
7. To making the most of every opportunity to do good in these evil times.
• So be careful how you live. Don’t live like fools, but like those who are wise. Make the most of every opportunity in these evil days. Don’t act thoughtlessly, but understand what the Lord wants you to do. (Ephesians 5:15-17)
• Seize the day the way God intended. Use every opportunity to share the truth of the Good News. Don't wait to live the abundant life that Christ came to give.
8. To repenting of my negativity.
• We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.(2 Corinthians 10:5)
• Committed to breaking my chains of negative thoughts and words. I'm one of those people that despite the joy in my heart the words on lip are negative. Not always critical as much as laced with disappointment. I have great joy, I just struggle to express it and dwell on it. Negative thoughts can be so pushy...so taking them captive until they can behave!
9. To embracing gratitude
• Because you are my helper,I sing for joy in the shadow of your wings. (Psalm 63:7)
• I will shout for joy and sing your praises,for you have ransomed me. (Psalm 71:22-24)
• This is the day the Lord has made.We will rejoice and be glad in it. (Psalm 118:24)
• I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:13)
• Always be full of joy in the Lord. I say it again—rejoice! (Philippians 4:4)
• I've struggled with this in spite of my desire to notice and record my blessings from the Lord. I find that in the busyness of life I've been unable to stay committed to really celebrating what I've been given and embracing gratitude as a way of life.
10. To studying His word so that it might change me
• “Listen, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength. And you must commit yourselves wholeheartedly to these commands that I am giving you today.Repeat them again and again to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up.Tie them to your hands and wear them on your forehead as reminders.Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. (Deuteronomy 6: 4-8)
• God's word is living and active. It has the power to change, even me as stubborn and thick-headed as I am. By studying, memorizing, pouring of His words over and over my life will change. He will speak to me, He will change me, and I will actually be able to commit to all these things.

Because by no means have I been able to do that. I probably never will be fully committed to each of these things at the same time. But that's why this is a journey and a prayer. It is the prayer of my heart to learn what it means to commit all I do to the Lord, and allow Him to tell me what I need to be committed to. I've linked up many of my previous posts because it is a testimony to this journey, this revelation on commitment. And I am certain there will be many more posts along the way. (Sign)Posts on a journey so I can look back and see how far I've come.

Surround Yourself With the Things You Love

I love it when I start to think about something---really think about it--God throws reassurances in my path to gobble up. Like Hansel and Gretl, but without being almost cooked and eaten in the end. ANYWAY--that has absolutely nothing with what I'm going to write about but...I had to share. Because the God part is sorta connected. The cannibalism is not.

Okay, now that's we've got that settled, let's put on our serious faces and get down to business.

I saw a decorative wooden sign recently that said: Surround Yourself With the Things You Love. And I thought to myself, I should buy that sign, to remind myself of that. And then I had to laugh at myself because that's my problem. I love too many things! So I have to buy myself a sign to remind myself to only bring in to my house that which I love the most...and I don't really love that sign...so it would be counter intuitive. Oh, sigh...oh, me.

But instead I committed that little phrase to memory and I am capturing it for time immemorial on this blog. I have a lot of stuff. I always have. My brother and I were the long awaited grandchildren, the much hoped for next generation. So when we came along, there was a load of 'stuff' waiting for us upon arrival. Our whole lives we've been given and collecting things. My brother doesn't seem to have the same addiction for sentimental stuff that I have but nonetheless, he hasn't been able to completely escape the STUFF!

So as a child, my room was always filled to capacity. Then when we started all the moves from apartment to apartment it got boxed up for 'someday'. Well, getting married and have a whole house to decorate seemed like 'someday' had arrived. Except that...there was more stuff on top of the original stuff. And we got wedding stuff. And Curtis has stuff...albeit not very much stuff, not like me. And our house is just stuffed with stuff already. And we don't even have kids yet.

I feel claustrophobic just thinking about it. And the clutter is out of control. I think I'm secretly running a Clutter Factory and someday the Clutter Elves will bring me a fat paycheck for manufacturing so much clutter. There's clutter on every flat surface...the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, the computer room, the bathroom, the bedroom! CLUTTER, CLUTTER EVERYWHERE, and not a drop to drink...or something.

Frankly, I can't take it anymore!!!!!!!! So I'm trying to de-stuff and de-clutter the house. I've read many magazine articles and searched for tips online. I've tried several methods and plans in my battle against stuff and clutter. But the problem is--what works for someone else, Martha Stewart, my mom, whoever--might not work for me. The solution to stuff and clutter is apparently not one-size-fits-all.

So I'm overhauling my views about my house. Shifting my paradigms of housekeeping. For example, we have a ridiculously small closet in our bedroom. Ridiculously. Small. So my dresses and skirts have been relegated to the Nursery closet (so named because someday that room will be a nursery) and the Guest Room closet. So whenever I wear a skirt or dress I have to go all the way to another room to get it out and put it away. Now, really, this isn't that big a deal but clearly, it's not working for me. My skirts and dresses end up draped over the balcony railing above the dining room. After months of this behavior I realized--it's broken, fix it! I went through all our clothes and filled a huge garbage full of items we just don't wear. Or don't need. My husband had 3 blue long sleeve dress shirts, almost exactly the same. Really? And then I moved all my skirts into the closet. My next step is to try on all my dresses and donate what doesn't fit anymore along with all that other stuff. De-stuff which leads to de-clutter. Love it.

I'm looking around my house and trying to see why there's clutter. The answer is because there's too much stuff. So by eliminating the stuff, there's room to put the clutter away. Thus far I haven't spent a dime but I've managed to empty one large storage bin and two or three smaller boxes. It feels good to purge the house and elimintate the things we don't need or don't really and truly love. Life is too short to fill it with a bunch of stuff I don't love and have to dust around.

And my goal isn't perfection (gasp!). It's to make our house a home. Gee, I've said that before, haven't I? Ann Voskamp' s blog today speaks to this very idea. A 'perfect' home is not a perfect home. Museum quality cleanliness isn't warm and cozy. But neither is clutter and stuff oozing from every closet, nook, and cranny.

And remember how I started this post with God throwing out the crumbs? Well, the aforementioned blog is one of them. So is this blog which my mom sent me. Another is the following verse which I read last night:

Don’t store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal. Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.--Matthew 6:19-21

So what matters to me most? Having a bunch of stuff because it brings back a memory or I just 'had to have it'? Or emptying out so I can be filled up with things I love? Because my house is like my heart. I can hold on to the stuff I've always had or always wanted, or I can let God fill it with His gifts.

So...go clean out a closet or something! Or read Hansel and Gretl and think about how messed up children's stories used to be. Seriously.

Every Activity Under Heaven

Since January I've been working full time at my job. I work 2 or so hours at our county office before going out to the school to finish up my work day. For those of you that don't know, I run a before & after school-care program for one of the local school districts. I went from six hours to eight hours a day. Not a big deal, right? Just two piddly hours.

Yeah. Right. I suddenly feel like I have no time.

This is feeling reminiscient of my previous post about making time for what is important. That post along with devotions and other blogs I've read have caused me to spend some time reflecting on how I view time. I want to manage my time, spend it will, save time by doing things efficiently, and I've come to hate feeling that I've wasted time. All of these are the same words I would use when talking about money. Time and money. Some people say time is money, and that may be true for lawyers or stock brokers but not for me. 

I've been creating pretty to-do lists to keep me motivated. I take time to decorate and illustrate my lists which sounds like procrastinating but I've noticed that the more I like the aesthetcs of something the more likely I am to stick with it. I've been thinking about re-organizing my house and re-structuring how things get done. I'm trying to come up with an efficient way to keep up with things. Housekeeping, paying & filing bills, and keeping track of things shouldn't be the daunting task it has somehow become. There should be a simple way to do things. I just need to find it.

I've read about creating rituals for daily things to make them meaningful instead of ordinary. My post on True Womanhood had me thinking of this in terms of housework. Seeing it as a rite of passage, beng indoctrinated into the club of True Women with every dish I wash. I also plan on making playlists of cleaning music, driving home from work music, and getting ready in the morning music. I want to create a morning ritual to prepare myself for the day--beyond the dash to get dressed and throw some make-up. I want to make the little things of everyday meaningful, even spiritual.

The Bible tells us to do everything without arguring or complaining, and that everything we do is (or shoud be) glorifying to Him. God cares about how I do what I do. I don't think He cares if I vacuum  up the puffs of doggy fur and toy-stuffing everyday, but He cares if I do it with a grudging spirit.

So, I think what I'm trying to say is this: by restructuring how I think about time, I'll be able to restructure how I use time, and my attitudes about how my time is spent will be restructured as a result. You might want to read that again. I did.

The first step is to re-focus my ideas of time. I realize in writing this that I think primarily of myself. What I need to do, what I want to do, what I think is important. I've got "I-trouble" (a song from a kids' program I was in as a very little girl, Angels Aware). What I need to realize is that God has given me this time to use as He directs. And I'm sure that will include much of the same things but I need to let Him make the call on when and how those things get done.

I have to empty my box of pre-conceived notions and let God decide what gets put back into the box. Throw away some things, add in some new, I'm sure. But it's God who needs to do this work. And I have a strong supsicion what God will show me is that there is plenty of time to do His work and do it gladly. And that all I do is actually His work.

Then, hopefully, when I'm getting ready for bed at night (another ritual to create, I think!) I won't be feeling all the failures of what I didn't get done. I can rest in knowing that God is in control of my time. Yup, that sounds much better to me.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven. ~ Ecclesiastes 3 (love this, one of my all-time favorite passages)

Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.~ Ephesians 5:15-16

Commit to the LORD whatever you do, and your plans will succeed. ~ Proverbs 6:3

The sluggard craves and gets nothing, but the desires of the diligent are fully satisfied. ~ Proverbs 13:4

Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails. ~ Proverbs 19:21

"She had a merry heart," he said...

"She had a merry heart," he said, and then, after a moment,

"She will add to the joy of the saints." - Mr. Edwards

"...And Ladies of the Club" by Helen Hooven Santmyer

The first time I read these words I lingered over them. And then they lingered with me. These brief lines describing a minor character in a book over 1,400 pages have lingered with me for nearly three years. Inspiring me. At last, changing me.

Dictionary.com offers these definitions for the word 'merry'

• full of cheerfulness or gaiety; joyous in disposition or spirit
• causing happiness; pleasant, delightful

"She had a merry heart."

I must be honest with you, I covet those words. This is why I read them over and over again, rather than turning the page. This is why they have lingered with me even after turning the page. Because I covet them.

I crave to be a woman full of cheer, joyous in disposition and spirit, causing happiness. I want desperately to be considered pleasant and delightful.

This is so much more than fun or carefree. Those words are only skindeep. I want a word that speaks to the essence of a person, perhaps even can describe a soul, not only a personality.

And it finally occurs to me, after three years of mulling over these words, how to get that which I covet so greatly. I've been laboring under the misconception that wanting these things is enough. That merely desiring to be merry would be enough to generate merriness within me. How many times have I foolishly and so densely believe this?

But slowly and surely just as the ocean can erode a rocky shore, the Spirit has eroded away the density which had built around my heart. Not my emotional heart but my spiritual heart. The heart which could contain and emit merriness. And now, as He's breaking through, I am understanding what it will take to get what I desire.

If it is ever to be said of me, "she had a merry heart", then I must allow Him to continue this erosion. The breaking through to my heart was not the end, but merely a means to an end. This has only been the first step in the remaking of my heart. Now the work will begin. And if I let Him shape and polish me He can create in me that merry heart. A heart which illuminates with joy and cheerfulness.

So this is my journey to have a merry heart. And this will be an expression of my heart--what I am learning, how I am changing, and that which I love. You can expect a variety of topics to be explored. Everything from the spiritual to the practical. Not evey post will be like this one--afterall, a heart can be expressed in so many ways--but this semed to demand a special introduction, a formal explanation. Or maybe I simply needed to put it in writing, a contract with myself.