Sunday, May 13, 2012

To: Mom

My mom is a beautiful woman. She is smart, first off. She is a counselor, and she dedicates her life to others. Need I say more?

Yes, I do.

I remember a lot of things about my mom from when I was young. I remember her cooking in the little matchbox of a kitchen we had in Waterloo. I remember peonies and walks. I remember being read to and tucked in.

Later, I remember her typewriter that was in her office in Traer. She was a music teacher, and I don't know why they had a typewriter in that office, but they did. I have typed on a typewriter in my life. My kids should know that.

I remember watching her in awe as she played trumpet in the symphony. I remember sitting up in the top row of the auditorium and listening to her part. I remember she had to wear black for that. A black, long dress.

My mom made lists for us with chores we could choose from, and she left notes on our table if she left early in the morning. She made beautiful dinners and created fabulous Christmases for us. I remember the year that all I wanted was a black leather jacket in high school. I never dreamed they would buy it for me, but it was there. I still have that jacket, and I love it. (For the love language people out there, I'm a gifts/acts of service type of person). :)

I have warm memories of my mom. One where she is laying out behind our white privacy fence in Traer, with Skin-so-Soft slathered on her body and cotton balls over her eyes. Our strawberry patch and our pantry. The routine she created for me and my pogo ball for the talent show. What's a pogo ball kids? I don't know that I can adequately explain that. Google it. 


I remember once when I was so, so sad. Life was unfair. I was a teenager. I was sobbing uncontrollably in my bed. I had never been so sad, or felt so alone ever before. I remember she came upstairs and sat next to me while I cried. She said nothing at all. No lecture, no life lessons. She was just there.

Over the years, this way that she has of just being there, has continued to change my life. She has been there for each birth of my children. She has been there, holding my hand each time through the pain and tears and joy. She has seen each baby's first breath.

She has come when I've been sick. She has come when I have been overwhelmed by the world and the mess around me. She has come to celebrate. She wouldn't miss a birthday for the world. She has come to plant gardens and flowers and trees and to beautify land that was dead before. Not for her, but for me.

My mom has taught me the kind of mom I want to be. She has taught me the kind of person I hope to be.

I want you to know that I love you Mom! Thank you for all that you have done for me, for us, for everyone. Thank you for always being there.


Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Everyday I'm shuffling

I realize my last post was extremely boring and mostly for me. It's possible that most of them probably are come to think of it. So if you haven't completely written off reading this blog, I'm shocked.

I drove Sophie to the ortho this morning to cast her broken arm. Yep, a broken arm. This is a mothering first for me, which is surprising considering I have three (=1,000,000) kids, none of whom have a care in the world for their own safety or well-being. So we ventured out together on this new adventure, only to find out Sophie doesn't need a cast, just a brace and that she can....wait for it....SWIM with this brace on and even play soccer again! We stepped outside the clinic after this news and placement of the brace and she began to dance in the parking lot. At first, I was confused by this because this was Soph, not Olivia. I shrugged as we started to skip and dance to the van and I said, "What are we doing?!" And Soph said without missing a beat, "I'm shuffling!"

Everyday I'm shuffling.

She was happy. Joy. 

There were many reasons to shuffle today. The cool Iowa morning. The beautiful sun with big billowy clouds. The blooming flowers and the smell of freshly cut grass. The perfect HOMEmade iced caramel latte that I consumed, made with love for me by me with my brand new espresso machine.

You see, life is good.

There are moments in my life when things look so dark, and I'm overwhelmed by the disaster I've become. My life, too busy. My priorities, not right. My weight...sigh. And it's funny what a difference a few days can make, a weekend, a Sunday, a renewing of spirit. Where my reverse anorexia is back and I'm mentally extremely good looking and skinny. Please don't shatter my reality with a picture or anything. Thanks. Things seem to eventually get sorted out once the shake up is over and my vision is cleared. And then...whoa. The world just seems right. The days and the nights, so beautiful. The gifts in my life, overwhelmingly generous. The problems I was so consumed with worry over, small and out of my hands.

It is always hard for me to remember that God isn't surprised by my shortcomings. He doesn't slap his hand over his mouth aghast at my mothering failures or my flaws. He knows me, inside and out. And he loves me. Yep, I don't get it either. It seems that it takes me a while to remember these things, and during the process, it's dark in here. But then the shake up is over and the dust settles and I can see the truth.

My good friend's grandpa had a bad disease as he grew older, and it changed his memory and the personality he was once known for. I remember, and always will remember, the song she told me reminded her of him and where he was now. "I can see clearly now the rain is gone. I can see all obstacles in my way. Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind. It's gonna be a bright, bright, bright, bright sunshiny day." When he died, his clouds were gone and he could see again. And I think that maybe I'm like that too sometimes, in a different way.

Even though it isn't always easy to do, as life is sometimes, very dark....I think God wants us to see joy, to think about things that bring joy, to bask in the light he has so graciously provided. To shuffle, if you will.

And we will.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

Philippians 4:8

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Definition: an educated person


I wrote this final paper for a class I've been taking. The instructions were to use texts we've read so far to define yourself as a student and to form your own definition of an educated person. I don't know why I'm posting it here, but for some reason, I wanted to remember this. If you are horribly bored and alone, read on. Otherwise, I'll save it for whatever use it might have for me later in life.
However, if you arrive at the end of this story, please feel free to add to my definition of an educated person as the thought of what it really means, actually, continues to elude me still.

Prior to taking this class, I had not thought much about what it meant to be an educated person. I knew it was necessary to get the job you wanted, and perhaps for the sake of having the respect of those around you in your community, but aside from those practical purposes, I had not given it any deep thought.
                Throughout this course, I have been struck by the beauty of what education offers us. Although knowledge is out there in abundance, we must be willing to seek it out in places like history, architecture, art, religion, and science. The amount of information available to us is vast and nearly immeasurable. This class has offered us an overview, a summary perhaps of each, and since only a summary, has left me wanting more. It has also taught me that the well known quote is truer than ever before: “The more I know, the more I realize I don’t know."
                A passage that comes to mind that demonstrates this point is with the reading of Lying Awake, by Mark Salzman. This book had a surface level meaning to it that any person could grasp. However, it also had another level that raised deeper questions about faith and knowledge. It dared to shake the fundamental foundation of Christianity and did not necessarily leave the reader with a definitive answer either way. I believe that this was the author’s intention in the end: to make the reader choose faith or definitive knowledge. No matter which side we choose, in order to be truly educated, we must have at least considered the question.
                To me, the last few paragraphs of the book were the most poignant. Sister John is being asked to be the new novice’s mistress but she feels inadequate. She says, “I don’t feel I know anything about God’s will, Mother.”  Sister Teresa replies, “Yet you’re still here, trying to do His will anyway. That’s the kind of understanding I meant. The doing kind, not the knowing kind.” 
                I love this quote. It could be used to define the way I look at my education. The more I learn and the more knowledge I obtain, the more there is to question. Some of those questions are unanswered and are supported by faith.
                The Unnatural Nature of Science, by Lewis Wolpert was another text that inspired me to consider my education and what it means to be an educated person. Specifically, I was interested in how he defined science. When science is defined it also defines all that science is not. I had not considered a distinction between the two before, and it was an interesting distinction to make. Taking note of the differences between what is science and what is not is key to understanding what can be considered reliable information and what cannot, but only if you fully trust and believe in what science tells us it is. I was especially struck by the author’s statement on page six,
                “Scientific ideas are, with rare exceptions, counter-intuitive: they cannot be acquired by simple inspection of phenomena and are often outside everyday experience. Secondly, doing science requires a conscious awareness of the pitfalls of ‘natural’ thinking. For common sense is prone to error when applied to problems requiring rigorous and quantitative thinking; lay theories are highly unreliable.”
                In particular, this quote made me consider how much of what we believe is actually “lay theory”, and how many of the beliefs we hold are the same. There are some issues that cannot be placated by our best guesses. But they deserve much more as Wolpert suggests: problems that require rigorous and quantitative thinking.
                Lastly, I want to speak to the simple beauty that knowledge combined with inspiration delivers. This beauty is evidenced by the works of the hands of the architects, for example, that produce visual projections of their knowledge and inspiration for the world to see (and to appreciate if it attempts to do so).
                The Architecture of Happiness by Alain de Botton was a lovely representation of what the combination of knowledge, education, and skill can accomplish. The author describes why architecture can move us. He says on page 22, “We may need to have made an indelible mark on our lives, to have married the wrong person, pursued an unfulfilling career into middle age or lost a loved one before architecture can begin to have any perceptible impact on us, for when we speak of being ‘moved’ by a building, we allude to a bitter-sweet feeling of contrast between the noble qualities written into a structure and the sadder wider reality within which we know them to exist. A lump rises in our throat at the sight of beauty from an implicit knowledge that the happiness it hints at is the exception.”
                These words hold more truth and beauty and do not need an explanation in my own words. However, I do want to say that I believe that knowledge produces an unavoidable external beauty for the world to take in. The offspring of the two, knowledge and inspiration, can be found in the skillful suture of a surgeon, or an unforgettable novel written by the hand of the inspired author, or in the harmony of a soulful piece composed by its author musician. Knowledge combined with inspiration produces, in various ways, visual, tangible, and beautiful projections. To me, this is the gift given to us by our Creator.
                Assessing myself as a learner, I would say that I am eager. I am eager to consider things I haven’t before. I am eager to be better than I was yesterday. I am challenged by my calling in life to be a nurse and a mother and a student, but I will continue to struggle to carve out the time needed to be successful at all of the above. Continuing education changes who I am.
                My time at Grandview has given me a broad view of what I need to be a useful part of society. Relating to my career as a nurse, I am just beginning the core of the BSN program and thus have not reached the material that will be most applicable to my career. However, the broad based knowledge that I have gained from this class and others will forever inspire me. They have given me the will to learn more. Grandview has a way of challenging me as a student, but removing the fear and distance that you feel at a larger university. Grandview has a way of making each student matter.
                The two classes that stand out to me from Grandview are this capstone course, as it gave a beautiful overview of the general education core.  The second was a caring class for nurses that I took a few years back. This was a class that reinforced in me the reasons I became a nurse and the reasons why I needed to be the best nurse I could be. It reminded me of the depth of my calling and the responsibility we have to our patients to be skillful and integral. It inspired me to do more and work harder to give more to the nurses of the future. It further inspired me to teach others. It is the reason why I am still working toward that goal today.
                My definition of an educated person is as follows: A person in awe of the unknown, who consciously seeks out truth and is transformed by that truth, evidenced by the works of their hands, their words, and their mind.

Ouch! I pulled a muscle on that one.

I took all 3 to church alone today. We were stuck in the middle of a row, but the kids did great! We only left 5 minutes early. Normally, Eli is out after the songs.

My inner mom cheerleader is doing toe touches and some kind of booty dance (something I'm no longer able/willing to do).


I think she just pulled a muscle.

Happy Sunday!

Friday, April 20, 2012

I Blame Eve

I just finished reading the third and latest book that I've read by Susanna Foth Aughtmon, I Blame Eve

 

I know I always say this, but this one was my favorite! I think. No, I love them all for different reasons.

This book explores the aftermath of the oh-so-famous choice that the first lady of human-kind made on behalf of all of her successors and what these means for us as women. Once again, Aughtmon is dead on, nailing the similarities between us and Eve blow for blow. Through Aughtmon's words it was made obvious to me that if Eve hadn't made the fatal choice to walk away from God's law that day in the garden, the next gal would. You would have. I would have too. 

One of my favorite illustrations that Aughtmon makes is in the chapter, "I Want to Hide From God." She says, 
"We have all been there. Afraid. Hearing God come near. Asking us what in the world we have been thinking and why we are hiding from him. It is a scary place to be. Terrifying, really. But here is the thing. There was no help in the trees for Adam and Eve. All they have on hand is their fig leaf skirts and their fear. And just like them, there is no help for us either when we stay hidden, keeping our hearts and lives from God, tucking away our sins, and peering at him from behind leafy branches. When we stick to the trees, when we harbor our sins in secret, we remain separated from the only One who can help us, the only One who has a solution for our dilemma. When God calls us out, even with knees knocking and our palms sweating, we have to come out . I don't think it's a coincidence that the Greek word most often used in the New Testament for church is ecclesia, or "called-out" ones. God has been calling us out by name, one at a time, since the time of Eden. He knows we can be changed only when we come out of hiding into his presence."

She goes on to tell the reader that God calls us out by name because he loves us. He knows there is healing and grace where He is and not in the dark places we hide, (as if we really could hide from God). He calls us out because he loves us, and reading this revelation from Aughtmon was a refreshing reminder of this. 

I'd really like to talk about every chapter in this book in depth, but that's not possible here AND I'd rather you buy this book and share it with a friend. But before I let you go and buy this, I want to highlight my very favorite chapter....the one that brought tears of recognition into my eyes. A necessary, but stinging revelation as she painted a picture of what she called the "Eden Gene". Basically, the Eden Gene is the gene within our beings that make us believe we deserve more....a little more pampering....just the best of everything...perhaps a life on a beach somewhere...servants attending to our every need. It's the feeling that the grass is greener. We deserve that soft green turf. It's the feeling that lurks within us that tells us that we deserve something more than what we've got. Why isn't God giving it to us? Aughtmon says this is where the snake comes into the picture. She says, 

"Into this place of wavering and discontent slithers the insipid snake, prodding and poking us with his words. 'Wow, are you really going to wait that long to get the life you want?' or, 'Why don't you make your life the way you want it now?' This line worked so well the first time on Eve that he figures he'll give it a second shot with us."

Wow. This hit home, as I can vouch that these thoughts run through my head most days of the week. I must also have the Eden Gene. 

However, Aughtmon also speaks of the plan that God has for our lives and the promise He has for us that his plans are good. She says we know that one day things will be grand in heaven. There will be no more "cellulite or taxes or gossip". We know this is true, but we truly lack patience as a people she points out. 

I felt like she was calling me out on this one. Like I finally had a diagnosis for my disorder. I have the Eden Gene!

Once again, Susanna Foth Aughtmon's whole book is overflowing with insight, humor, and honesty. Her writing is infectious and heartwarming. You just get the overall feeling that Aughtmon and you, the reader, well, you go way back. She gets you from page one. You're left wondering how she got the dirt on you in the first place. This book is God-breathed and necessary for any woman walking the planet. You'll find yourself in every page. I guarantee it.