the s-word

4 01 2012

Submission. or, the s-word as some Christian women call it- can raise feelings of anger, injustice, pain and resentment. For me, submission recently brought the word ‘gratitude’ to mind. As some of you may have seen from the picture I posted on Facebook, I inadvertently dyed my hair royal blue five days before Christmas.

 

"it looks cool, but this isn't Lollapalooza 1994" -my brother Matt's response to my blue hairdo.

As I was watching blue foam drip off of my head as I shampooed out what I thought was toner that would give me a more platinum blonde do’, I peeked out from behind the shower curtain to look in the mirror and saw myself in unexpected smurfette glory. I posted the picture online for my friends to laugh at because as I said then “better to laugh than cry, and even better to make your friends laugh than wallow in shame.”

I quickly called my salon, Crazy Mullets to see if my stylist could rectify my hair so I wouldn’t have a blue Christmas. My stylist being on vacation & unavailable that week I booked an appointment with another stylist.  In the back of my mind I was thinking- “this is going to cost $80-$100. We really don’t have extra money this month because of Christmas. Oh well, having cute hair is worth it.” I explained the situation to Dave when he got home amidst Reuben’s exclamations of “your hair  looks so pretty mommy!”  and that I had an appointment at the salon that afternoon.

You know those scenes in action movies where two characters who are about to fight just stare at each other while dramatic music plays in the background? It was a little like that as Dave and I faced off in the battle of “back to blonde.”

well, maybe not as bloody as the Kill Bill movies......

Dave presented two problems with my proposed scenario. 1. He had a lot of work to do that afternoon and didn’t have time for me to spend hours at the salon rectifying my beauty blunders.  2. Fixing my self-inflicted problem would cost $80-$100 we hadn’t budgeted for the month.  ”Where do you plan to have this money come from?” Dave calmly asked as I told him I was unwilling to cancel my appointment, had no idea how to dye my hair back, and that a professional should really be the one to fix my mistake. Before you judge me for what I said to him, take a quick look back at my blue hair. I had BLUE hair! There was no way I was going to have family Christmas pictures with BLUE hair.

“I thought we could use some of the money that we’ve saved for our 10-year anniversary trip.” I replied (not even a bit sheepishly- oh! what a jerk I can be). Dave looked at me, shook his head and sadly sighed- “now that’s just cold.” He had to ask me three times to cancel my appointment, to look up hair-dying accident remedies online, and to take responsibility for fixing my own hair. “you made one mistake today dying your hair blue, you can make a choice not to make a second mistake by being committed to our financial goals and not using money we don’t have.”

In the end I submitted to his wishes. I looked up home remedies for removing hair color and proceeded to wash my hair seven times with laundry detergent. I Mixed baking soda with dandruff shampoo and washed it another 5 times and still I had blue hair. After my numerous unsuccessful attempts to remove the color, we decided that I should check Sally Beauty supply for a more potent color remover. I ended up spending $20 instead of $100 and didn’t piss off my husband (for too long) in the process. And my hair is back to blond.

One of the most difficult scripture passages women and men have grappled with is Ephesians 5:22-33 where it talks about wives submitting to husbands and husbands loving wives.  As I thought about what this scripture meant in this particular context it seemed especially funny that Paul, the author of Ephesians wrote about a husband being the head of the wife, and a husband loving his wife as his own body. I’m sure he didn’t picture both spouses having blue hair. I chose to submit to Dave’s request that day because I love him. More importantly, I love Jesus and know he wants and has the best for me as I submit to him. In Paul’s instructions to spouses, I know I can trust Dave to love me sacrificially because Jesus leads his life.  Dave was loving me through remaining me of the financial goals we had made together to benefit our family.  He was loving me by asking me to take responsibility for my mistakes and not doing something stupid because I’m ridiculously vain (my words, not his) and didn’t want to have to explain my blue hair to people. I chose to submit because I know my husband wants the best for me, and I want him to know I listen to him and respect him.

I know I’ve been writing recently about marriage & relationships but as the subtitle of my blog says- it’s ordinary interactions like this that reveal what it means to follow Jesus, to submit to your husband and be loved as a wife. It’s times like this where our the feet of our theology hit the cold hard cement on the sidewalks of life. And it’s the ordinary interactions like this that reveal Jesus in extraordinary ways.


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wife points

28 12 2011

“you don’t get wife points for calling your husband a butt” our babysitter Nita guffawed after my derogitory derriere related remark directed at Dave while frantically racing around the kitchen trying to load the dishwasher with cereal bowls, put away the milk and get out the door to get some work done.

A few weeks before that I had been at Nita’s dorm room to pick up the kids after she and her roommate Rachel had kindly watched them so Dave and I could see a play (the perks of working with college students!).  Rachel, Nita and I have ongoing conversations about gender roles in society, the church and marriage- the fun things you talk about in college when you’re trying to figure out- “what does it actually mean to be a woman?” and “what sort of a woman am I/do I want to become?” “what sort of wife will I be?”

On their dorm wall a piece of notebook paper was taped with both of their names on it, and a series of tally marks.  ”What’s the chart for?” I asked, glancing at Rachel as I loaded Oswald into his carseat.  Nita’s face began to turn red and she started laughing as Rachel smiled and said- “that’s our wife training chart. We give each other points for doing things that will make us good wives someday.”  Knowing that neither Nita or Rachel, funny, smart, ambitious, hipster students came to college to get their M.R.S. degree, I curiously asked, “so what kinds of things do you get wife points for?” Inwardly I was thinking:  there has to be an off the charts wife point tally for having sex with your husband when you don’t feel like it but decided it probably wasn’t a good idea to suggest adding that to the chart for two unmarried college students.

After regaling me and laughing together about their list of doing dishes, changing a diaper for the first time thanks to my 5-month old son, dressing stylish, and cooking/baking I drove home that night recalling doing something similar in college.  My roommates and I, trying to imagine what it would be like to be a wife someday dressed up in a bubble-gum pink Lawrence Welk-esque dress and took turns posing for pictures with a pan of meatlof ready to load into the oven. I’m away from home currently and don’t have access to the picture but the one above is pretty close to what we looked like (complete with heels).

Their wife points chart made me think about what I thought it would be like to be a wife when I was in college.  And then it made me reflect on what life has actually been like for nearly 10 years.  Shakespeare wrote in Hamlet; “there is always truth in jest” and though posing with pans of meatloaf and making tally marks for changing diapers  is an amusing way to try and envision what life as a spouse looks like, it points to a deeper fear of constrictive gender roles.  The questions lurking in the back of my mind all those years ago, and I suspect in Nita and Rachel’s ask “will I be able to be both feminine and powerful?” “Can I be both ambitious and loving?” “will I have a spouse that encourages me to pursue my dreams and gives me the freedom to do so?”

My list of “wife points” would be very different than when I made that proverbial list in college. The list would include things like:

  • Picking up pumpkin bagels for your husband just because he likes them. Wife points: 10
  • Forgiving your husband when he breaks a lamp while using it to illuminate a wall where installing an outlet instead of using a flashlight. Wife points: 15
  • Listening to stories about sports/kung-fu/hunting/electronics/star trek and being glad to hear about it because it’s something your husband loves and you want to care for him. Wife points: 25
  • Sampling your husbands home-brewed beer or other creations with believable enthusiasm (aka- I’m happy you have a hobby). Wife points: 40
  • Successfully navigating creating a three-month schedule of events, childcare responsibilities, and work travel while remaining kind and peaceful. Wife points: 50
  • Choosing to love your husband and bake him cookies for Valentines day even though you are still smarting from the hurtful things he has said the day before and not holding a grudge and actually being happy to see him. Wife points: 75
  • Respecting the committments you have both made to be financially prudent and stick with a budget, sucking it up and returning the killer ankle boots that were 70% off and resisting the mental sound track of “I deserve these.. he never lets me buy…he just bought a….I need these…” Wife points: 125
  • Having sex with your husband after a day of cleaning poop off of children, making dinner, cleaning the house, having a 2-hour conference call to plan an event, writing a talk that you have to give the next day and choosing to emotionally engage with each other while being intimate. Wife points: off. the. chart.

Being a wife is far harder than I ever imagined it to be. Actively forgiving is more difficult than scouring a pan crusted with burnt-on grease.  Choosing to love requires much more than the effort than putting on a pink chiffon dress and looking pretty. Believing you are each others advocates instead of enemies requires the kind of love Paul talks about in 1 Corinthians 13:4-  “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

For many those words have long been forgotten after they’ve been read by your second cousin who your mom required to do something in your wedding ceremony. Yet they become much more potent in the years after the honeymoon is over. Especially on the days where you call your husband a butt because you’re mad at him. So friends- my question to you is what would make your wife points list?  How is being a wife more difficult or better than you thought about before you got married?


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things to do while waiting for a baby

15 07 2011

No such luck having baby fick #2 arrive on his due date like Reuben!  Yesterday was my due date & no sign of the little guy yet.  For the past two weeks there have been days where I have been in false labor, even going to the hospital once to be sent home, which was a major bummer.  So here is how I’ve been passing my time.

Baking:

Blueberry-raspberry pound cake

Blueberry-raspberry pound cake for the 4th of July.  It was like fruity fireworks in a cake! I didn’t take a picture of mine but you get the idea of what it looked like from this other one. It was great to enjoy a slice with our friends Joyce, Mark, Pam & the crew hosted for a BBQ at our friends the Fell’s. Check out the  recipe if you’re interested in baking your own.

Espresso Carmel bars

Enjoyed last year at a friends bridal shower, these espresso carmel bars are the upscale equivalent of a homemade twix bar. Thankfully I had book club last week which deterred me from eating the other 1/2 of the pan. This is a food network recipe you can check out here.  I subbed in a Starbucks via packet for the instant espresso and I didn’t use a candy thermometer, just let the homemade carmel bubble until it looked gooey enough.

Almost Starbucks Blueberry Oat bars

A few years ago after enjoying one of these blueberry bars at Starbucks, I realized it would probably be pretty easy to make them myself. Turns out, it is pretty easy especially when blueberries are in season and are abundant where you live. If you’ve got some blueberries that need to be used and your onerous tooth is demanding some sweets, check out the recipe.

Though I’d love to paint the rest of my dining room, starting a big project like that when I could go into labor at any moment seems crazy.  Stopping mid-recipe seems much more practical and is helping me to inch towards my important goal of hitting 200 lbs- woo hoo!

Working:

Though I was supposed to stop working last week, I couldn’t bring myself to stop even the few things I have going for work right now.  So, fund development, reading, and scheduling for the fall have helped to take my mind off things as well. I really enjoyed reviewing On The Verge for Zondervan’s blog tour of the book- you can check out other reviewers here.

Watching movies: old Sophia Loren movies, Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows pt. 1 & Knocked Up. I am not typically superstitious, but since we had watched Knocked Up the night before Reuben was born we had an encore. Plus, there was a full moon, also a factor that was present the night Reuben was born. No dice with baby #2. Consolation prize? Getting to go see Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows pt. 2 today!

Thinking of snarky replies to people who make comments about still being pregnant: Though I rarely say any of the things I’m thinking, I have little tolerance for Debbie Downer/pessimistic people’s comments.

“you’re still pregnant?” no I’m just still fat.
“aren’t you frustrated the baby hasn’t arrived yet?” Not as frustrated as I am with your comments.
“Has the baby arrived yet?” Do you really think I’d post random crap on facebook if I had pictures of our baby to post?
When we went to the beach last Saturday after being sent home from the hospital the night before a guy at the beach asked me when I was due- “next week” I replied, to which his only comment was, “oh my God!” I just had no idea how to respond to that. Did he think that I shouldn’t be at the beach so close to my due date? That I was too big to be at the beach? That I was crazy for not being at home sitting around and waiting for the baby to come? I have no idea, so I just dove into the cool waters of Lake Erie to wash away all these annoying comments.

It’s also been great to enjoy time with Reuben before my attention is divided among two boys- there have been lots of Cars 2 lego escapades, coloring, going to the pool and playing trains together.

So, while we wait for little guy, I’ll be enjoying yummy desserts and watching good movies and hopefully keeping snarky comments to myself.


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sawdust in my underwear

24 05 2011

There are strange moments when I’m struck by how much of an adult I’ve become. And most recently, I had a moment where I was grateful that one of those moments no longer included sawdust in my underwear.

Six months after Dave and I were married, we moved into our first home.  Little did we know that we, like many others were caught up in what would become the “handing out mortgages like bubble gum” craze that contributed to the economic crash in 2008. So, like two young kids eager to be adults we bought our house and got to work making it a home- painting, gardening and eventually remodeling the whole kitchen.

At our wedding Dave’s brother Joe joked that the first time he walked into my apartment he knew that I would be a perfect match for his brother who also wasn’t known for his fastidious cleaning skills. So there we were, two messy people, in love, surrounded by piles of dishes and laundry. We weren’t as bad as April & Andy from Parks & Rec eating off frisbees so we wouldn’t have to do dishes, but we weren’t that far from it.

The most cluttered and messy area of our house was our dungeon of a basement which was both Dave’s woodshop and our laundry area.  Often when we would work on projects we would either be too tired or lazy to clean up after ourselves; not rinsing paintbrushes, putting tools away, or sweeping up sawdust.  Though we’d throw drop-clothes over things in the basement so they wouldn’t get covered in sawdust- inevitably those tiny little wood fibers would get everywhere. Including the piles of laundry in the basement. Little pieces of wood stick very persistently to delicate fibers of shirts, leggings and underwear even if they have been washed & dried.

I’d be getting dressed in the morning happy that I’d not only washed and folded the laundry but actually carried it upstairs when I’d feel the uncomfortable prickle of sawdust in my underroos.  This would typically result in cursing Dave, our laziness, vows to sweep up the sawdust eventually and discomfort all day because there would always be a piece of sawdust that I missed.

hello, welcome to our basement.

This past weekend when the sun finally emerged in the weeks of cloudiness Dave and I felt uber-motivated to get some house projects done in our home here in Cleveland- scraping and painting our front porch railing for me and doing some carpentry work to repair our 1/2 bath for Dave.  Though we were sweaty and tired from our various projects at the end of the day, I clicked on the shop-vac to suck up the piles of sawdust on the floor (which were not too far away from laundry baskets) and help him clean up.  The familiarity of the situation made me smirk with nostalgia at the days of wood-fiber covered clothes and ask Dave if he remembered all the times I had yelled at him in our old house about the sawdust.

It’s funny how small things can make you realize that you’ve become an adult, or at least that certain things have matured about you- visiting your old haunts to enjoy some of the pub food you loved in college only to realize it was actually kind of crappy (sorry Miller’s Thriller @ MSU’s Harrison Roadhouse- the thrill is gone), choosing to work for yourself rather than someone else & feeling the exhilarating fear of starting your own business, or as one of my girlfriends experienced when a teenager hit her car- being the calm adult who knew how to call the insurance company, AAA and worked to soothe the panicked kid who was worried what his dad would think about his messed up fender.  Or in my case, having sawdust-free underwear as we’ve slowly learned that life really is nicer when big kids clean up their own messes.


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I’m not the girl I used to be

7 04 2011

Twigs + logs + matches + newspaper = fire. At least for a girl who spent the first 17 years of her life growing up in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula where I’d wager that many kids learned the skill of how to build a fire amongst other skills like ice fishing, downhill & cross-country skiing and how to swim in Lake Superior just long enough until your toes feel numb.

Say yah to da U.P. eh!

Recently my friend and colleague Grace spent a weekend in a lovely log cabin, tucked in the back of a generous person’s property, overlooking a stream and surrounded by woods. Though the two of us usually run the gamut conversationally from what’s happening in our respective jobs as regional coordinators with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, to our kids, to what the latest celeb fashions are, to what we’re reading on blogs or in books, this weekend was set aside to spend some time in silent reflection, journaling, prayer and listening to what God might have to say to each of us. Bonus to not have to be woken up in the morning by our children and be able to enjoy coffee and omlets together!

When I saw that the cabin had a fireplace I envisioned sitting in the rocking chair, reading or journaling while letting my thoughts drift as I gazed into the dancing flames of a fire, I of course would successfully build.  Though it was a little damp that day, I gathered twigs for kindling, brought in logs from the stack outside the cabin to dry off a little and got the fire going in the late afternoon so we could enjoy it as the sun set.

yesss, perfect on a damp spring evening!

I got to work crumbling newspaper, building a web of twigs under the logs and strategically lighting the newspaper so that everything would catch, which it eventually did flaring up into yellow flames.  And then it flickered out. Repeat newspaper, twig web, log shifting. At least four more times. As I’m hunkering down sticking my head into the fireplace to try and help the back of the fire catch, I mumble an apology to Gracee for how loud I’ve been building the fire as she’s been silently journaling. With a slightly concerned look on her face, she simply remarks, “uh, no problem, it’s actually kind of fascinating watching you do this.”

At last the fire seems to catch. “Success!” I exclaim as I settle into the rocker with my book and mug of tea. “I’m impressed” Gracee nods as she looks up from her journal. “White girl skills!” I reply to my bi-racial friend who grew up in Detroit and once told me that she thought werewolves were simply a breed of wolves.

The logs burn for awhile, but all the time I’m thinking- “this fire looks like it’s about to go out any minute. Mother of pearl, I just want to sit here and enjoy it and now it looks like I’m going to have to get up every 10 minutes to stick in some more twigs, shift the logs and basically keep this thing going.”  And because it’s a silent prayer retreat I start asking, “Is there some deeper meaning here Lord, like, it takes continual effort to follow you or something like that?” Because when you’re on a silent retreat, you start wondering if there’s meaning in a splenda packet because you go expecting to hear from God. So when the fire starts to fizzle after about 20 minutes, burning the log only in one place I decided to concede, just let it go and look at those stupid ashes in the hearth reminding me of what a failure I’ve become at building fires. I eventually moved to another couch so I wouldn’t have to look at the charred logs.

stupid half-burned log.

Though in high school or even awhile into college I could successfully blaze it up with the right tools those skills seem long gone.  On our drive to the cabin, Grace and I talked about how when you get reconnected with someone or something from your past it can spark nostalgia and even an urgency to want to reconnect with who you once were or the things you once did.  In my fire fail, it made me think about all of the skills I’ve left behind in becoming who I am today. While there might be some sadness that I’m not a wilderness mom, I’ve traded those fire building skills by choosing to focus on a lot of other areas in my life that I’d rather see bursting into sparks and igniting into flames.

It’s thrilling to see a light dawn on a student who begins to realize how much God loves them and begins a relationship with Jesus. It’s amazing to see the spark of an idea of helping to raise awareness about and money for human trafficking on the college campus turn blaze across InterVarsity nationally to help students live out and speak about their faith in holistic ways.  It warms me to see my son’s eyes squinched up as he prays before meals, “God bless the food, bless the people in Japan whose houses got washed away and cars got washed away” after seeing video footage of the destruction in Japan.

Have you had any of those nostalgia moments recently? Where you wonder- how the heck did I change so much? Why the heck can’t I do these things I once was good at any more? How did you respond?

Next time I'm getting a duraflame log. Or just bringing my woodsy husband along.


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weekend to remember

24 03 2011

Most of us don’t wait until the transmission of our car blows up before we take it to the shop, so why do so many of us wait until our marriage looks like a rust-bucket spewing smelly gray clouds into the atmosphere as we try just to make it from here to there?

I wish I was a little bit taller, I wish I was a baller, I wish I had a rabbit in a hat, and a 64' Impala

While I wouldn’t say my marriage to Dave is lookin’ like a broke-a** hoopde, we certainly aren’t crusing thorugh life in a shiny new rolls either. I don’t think we would have considered going to the Family LIfe Weekend To Remember conference had it not been for some of our kind donors who bought vouchers for each of the missionary couples they support.  Though we didn’t have to pay to attend the conference, could choose anywhere in the country to go, I was still a little hesitant.  Would this be some weird touchy-feely thing where we had to share our deep, dark marriage sins in small groups?  Would it be some uber-conservative “men go kill meat to bring it to your wife while she stays home making sure your cave is spotless and your spawn are fed?” Would there be things that made me realize that things were a lot worse in our relationship than I had thought?

Despite these fears, we decided to go and with a little help from friends, the kindness of grandparents to watch Reuben we were able to get away for the weekend.  I figured, if it was lame at least we would still have space to be together & we could just make fun of the things we didn’t like about the conference.

I am so glad we went. Weekend to Remember exceeded my expectations, challenged me and surprised me with how thoughtful, funny and moving the content was.  No weird small groups, just time for you & your spouse to talk, pray and work through the “projects” you’re assigned for the weekend to discuss how your relationship is going mentally, emotionally, physically & spiritually. Life is so full that to have space to reflect individually and one another was one of the most valuable parts of the conference, in addition to it being hosted in the beautiful, historic Renaissance Marriott in Cleveland.

"the arcade" one of Cleveland's grand old malls of the golden days of the city.

While I won’t go into detail about all of the content of the weekend, I will say we felt affirmed in areas in our marriage that we’re doing pretty good at.  Though it was scary to bring up some areas that aren’t doing so great, we were able to do so while enjoying coffee from Erie Island Coffee, over a hearty breakfast at the Brownstone Inn in Cleveland, or while walking through Little Italy on our way to dinner at La Dolce Vita- without interruptions from our 4-year old, scooting out to send a late email, or getting wrapped up in folding just one more basket of clothes.

the front door of the wonderful Brownstone Inn


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mailman alex

3 03 2011

MAILMAN ALEX!!! DO YOU HAVE MY HENRY TRAIN!!! Reuben belted out whenever he saw our friendly mailman Alex heading down our sidewalk wondering if his missing train had arrived in the mail. (thank you carole for sending it!)  This summer I noticed our mailman sitting in his mail truck munching on a sandwich reading sports illustrated on his lunch break. At times I was a little irritated that he’d park in front of his house, guilty that I was inside enjoying air conditioning while he was sitting in a hot mail truck, or wondered if anyone ever invited him in for a meal or glass of water.

rain or shine, Alex always comes through and brings my weekly fix of Entertainment Weekly!

While I was still on sabbatical one of the most significant differences I noticed in my life was the ability to spontaneously care for and serve the needs of others.  Though I was writing papers and reading a lot, my thoughts weren’t occupied with the next talk I had to write and deliver, the next set of fundraising appointments or meetings to attend.  I found myself being much more attentive of the small ways I could care for people.  It felt great to cook a meal for a friend and her family after hearing she had thrown her back out. I enjoyed time to stop and talk with my elderly grandmother without needing to rush off to the next thing.

 

On one of those days we saw Alex the weather had turned colder yet he still sat huddled in his truck, eating his sandwich listening to his iPod.  We had some leftover soup and Dave was home for lunch that day so I asked him to invite Alex in for lunch with us.  Though it wasn’t much, Alex seemed glad to share a meal with us and tell us a little about his life. Turns out he has a son a little older than Reuben that he had with his ex-wife so we had a lot to talk about what it’s like to have a preschool boy. Reuben also thought it was pretty cool that Mailman Alex got to eat lunch with us.

so much of life happens around meals. even if you're a vampire who doesn't actually eat food.

Now that I’m back at work, pregnant and managing all the other areas of life the mental and emotional space to spontaneously care for others seems to be squeezed out by deadlines, errands and the feeling that I won’t be able to accomplish all that I have in a given day.  Things like being able to invite our mailman in to eat lunch with my son and husband seem like one extra thing to do in the day beyond all that I already have going on.  But that’s the difficult thing about caring for others- it’s rarely convenient.  This was probably the biggest thing I learned during my sabbatical year- my ministry often gets in the way of my witness. Though I am doing good things with college students what happens when I’m off the clock?  What about all the people around me that need to see Jesus demonstrated in practical ways, want someone to genuinely listen and care for them and simply recognize that they are present? I know I can’t do this all the time, but each time I see Alex’s mail truck in front of our house I find myself wondering what it will take to invite him into our lives again without running through the mental to-do list first.

How about you? Where do you find yourself struggling to make space for spontaneous service? What are ways it’s just become a normal part of your life?  There are so many people I know that do an amazing job of just making it a priority like they do with any other important thing in their life.


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the support network: life as a working mom

21 02 2011

Even more profound than the support power of Spanx to make a jiggly booty smooth is the unbelieveable support network that God can provide for working moms.  I tip my proverbial hat  to the following groups of people who make life not only manageable but enjoyable.

1. The Husband: Dave has schlepped our baby around to meetings I’ve attended  just so I could continue to nurse, has watched Reuben solo for weeks while I’m away for work, taking M.A. classes at Wheaton, is savvy to the story-times, play-dates and free times for the zoo,  children’s museum and local attractions to keep him entertained. He is a superior and creative cook who had hot meals ready for me when I’d get home from long trips. He has willingly sacrificed his time, energy and ambitions to support and enable me to pursue what God has called me to in life.  He encourages me and prays for me when I get stressed out and overwhelmed.

Dave & Reuben on a recent expedition to the frozen shores of Lake Erie

Life as a working mom is entirely doable with amazing husbands who don’t simply tolerate their wife’s career, but are willing to make sacrifices to serve them.  Check out this great article by a dad who invites other dads to consider helping their wives by staying at home with the kiddos.

2. The MOPS group: Or other groups of supportive moms.  I’ll admit it- I was hesitant to go to MOPS when I lived in Grand Rapids.  I was worried that I’d feel ostracized because I worked, would be bored by endless conversations about baby stuff & wouldn’t be able to connect with other women. At the first meeting Lorilee, a working mom who is a journalist was telling us about attending the Def Leppard concert the night before to cover it for the local news paper. She had me at Def Leppard & I attended ever since then. These were women who could laugh and cry about kids, marriage, jobs and a slew of other things.  They were my support network as they prayed for me, talked me through the stress of moving and sometimes just let me cry. Other moms who know what it’s like to work and take care of kids seem more than willing to jump in to help out because they know what it’s like.  I miss my MOPS friends terribly now that I’m in Cleveland!

Though we often think of church as the building where we go for a couple hours on Sunday, the MOPS group I was part of was the church to me the other six days of the week. And they helped me to take snarky comments in stride from other people I’d hear on Sunday mornings “that must be SO HARD for you to be gone all the time!” Yes. Yes it is. Thanks for pointing that out. “What does Dave do while you’re away?” Umm, parent his child as a great father. This was a frequent comment when Dave began working part-time. “I could never do that.” Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult? Even though these responses would be frustrating to say the least, I tried to have thoughtful responses to help people see that God can call families into all different situations that both honor him and care for the child.

3. Family. While it is a huge support to have a eager grandparent take care of the kiddos while you work, this isn’t always an option.  While we lived in Grand Rapids, both my parents were able to jump in on days when I had a long trip, to watch Reuben so we could go out for a date or even just be willing to have us over for dinner when both of us were too tired to cook.  I’m hugely grateful for my parents and sister for sacrificing their time to care for our family over the past four years.

hanging with the cousins is also pretty spectacular

In moving, I felt like one of the things God wanted to do in our lives was to expand our definition of family.  When you follow Jesus, you belong to a community who is committed to sacrificially loving and serving one another.  Living in Cleveland has opened our eyes to the love God demonstrates to us through his larger family- InterVarsity students and staff, friends and parents at Reuben’s preschool have all cared for us and for him in innumerable ways. It’s also been a good and humbling experience of asking for help- with family it can often feel easy to ask for help, with friends you’re often not sure of the boundaries.  Thankfully the offers to help have not been polite (but empty) attempts to make us feel more welcome.

4. Women you’ve never met (aka, good books).  I have always been a huge reader, so naturally when I got pregnant I scoured all the resources I could to help me learn about being pregnant and what life as a working mom would be like.  Two of my pregnancy favorites were “Sippy Cups are Not For Chardonnay and Anne Lamott’s Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son’s First Year.

I was a little embarrassed of how loud I was laughing in the library when I checked this book out.

5. An amazing community of working mom colleagues. The working moms I know with InterVarsity are some of the most helpful, supportive, empathetic & encouraging crew.  Once when I was staying in the Chicago area for me to take a class, Dave and Reuben came to visit for the weekend & unfortunately Reuben got sick. The next night, an InterVarsity staff Christmas party was being hosted at the home we were staying.  Reuben ate one small slice of chicago-deep dish & promptly harfed it up all over the kitchen floor.  All of the other moms sprang to attention, grabbing paper towels, comforting Reuben (I was still at class), and asking Dave if they could help with anything. My friend Lisa who also works for InterVarsity has remarked on numerous occasions how refreshing it is to have colleagues who don’t look at her like she’s crazy when she tells them that she and her husband are both pursuing degrees, working and raising their two kids. Other friends have lent maternity clothes, given helpful suggestions about how to attend work conferences with young kids, or even just offered to stay with them during a meal.

I know I’m likely forgetting a lot of people here.  Other working moms- what have been some of your helpful support systems?  What do you wish you had more help with?


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the double-blessing: Life as a working mom

11 02 2011

While there are many challenges to being a working mom, there are a lot of great things that come with the territory.  Research such as Sally Heglesen’s book The Female Advantage cites that moms learn to have an integrated approach to work life and home life in being forced to be more resourceful with their time and energy. Heglesen writes: “Increasingly, motherhood is being recognized as an excellent school for managers, demanding many of the same skills:  organization, pacing, the balancing of conflicting claims, teaching, guiding, leading, monitoring, handling disturbances, imparting information.”

Though I haven’t’ yet read Heglesen’s book, a fellow working-mom colleague Anne Hong cited it in a paper she wrote on Issues of Leadership Development for Women in their 30′s which was recently posted on InterVarsity’s staff site. With Anne’s permission she’s made her paper available to any of my blog readers who want to read more on the topic beyond these posts. .IssuesofLeadershipDevelopmentforWomeninTheirThirties-1.12424

This week I’ve been away at meetings for my work with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship.  Spending time interviewing new staff candidates, making decision about how to reach more students in our region, and presenting my plans and ideas about how to grow evangelistic efforts and innovation feels like a worthwhile & life-giving investment though I’m away from home.  It also is a vast departure from how I spent my time last week watching Dinosaur Train, playing with play-doh, and helping my little guy recover from the flu.  Though there were various points last week I felt stressed about the work I wasn’t getting done because of Reuben being sick and Dave being away for work I remembered the words of Marcus Buckingham.

In Marcus Buckingham’s book Find Your Strongest Life: What the Happiest and Most Successful Women Do Differently one of his best points was to focus on the type of time you spend with your loved ones or kids rather than feeling guilty about the quantity. In other words, when you’re with your kids or (your husband) be present to them fully and make it a high quality time together.  Make memories and be present to your child whether you’re putting together a puzzle, playing at the playground or having an adventure building a snowman. I feel the worst about being a working mom is when I’m strapped for time or childcare and am unsuccessfully straddling checking emails on my iPhone while I make lunch for Reuben, reading staff applications between setting up train tracks for him to drive Thomas, James and Henry around, or taking phone calls while I ask him to play quietly (does this ever work like you think it does?) in the next room. Typically I am able to segregate my time well- when I’m not on the road attending meetings, speaking at chapters across our region, I leave the house with my laptop to inhabit the coffeehouse and get my work done.

Being a working mom the double blessing that I’ve realized over time is that if I’m able to have healthy boundaries I can spend quality time with Reuben and enjoy productive time with my job. While I’m outside the home working it feels like a refreshing break to put my mind, energy and creativity towards concrete, measurable goals that influence thousands of people. I love being with colleagues who challenge me, engage in thoughtful conversations and are working together for a purpose we all believe in.  When I’m away, I feel like I’m able to be in work mode and by the time the meeting ends I’m ready to go home and spend some quality time with my family. Being a working mom provides an opportunity to develop my skills and abilities, make a difference in the world and be refreshed intellectually, spiritually and professionally.

During my sabbatical I had the helpful realization that I’m a pressure-prompted, projects driven person. When I have a lot of time on my hands, I feel like I’m a bit aimless, get depressed and overwhelmed by the amount of options of how I could spend my day.  Dave actually forced me to go speak at an InterVarsity chapter during my sabbatical because he saw how much I was languishing not using my gifts of speaking and evangelism.  For whatever reason, God seems to have created me to enjoy juggling multiple roles, relationships and projects.  I think if I wasn’t working outside the home, I’d still want to fill my time with volunteer roles.  If I’d do this anyways I might as well get paid for it. Whether it is a 1/2 day or a multi-day trip for work I feel refreshed and ready to enter life back at home with Reuben, ready to play trains, read as many Curious George books as he requests and snuggle together while watching Despicable Me.

Reuben's latest favorite movie.

Fellow working moms, what are things that you enjoy about the double roles of managing life at home and at work? Last week I wrote about the challenges, but there are a lot of other things that are great about working and having a family.


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the double-bind- life as a working mom

4 02 2011

Confession- at various points in my life I have thought all of these things: kids are speed-bumps on the career path, being a mom seems lame, God is a jerk if he wants me to have kids and give up a job I love. Maybe you’re in the other camp entirely and have been waiting to have babies since you went through puberty. I have never stepped foot in that camp.  Now that I’m approaching having not one, but two children it’s made me think and pray a lot about how my life will change when spawn of Fick #2 arrives this summer.

It’s been a hesitant path to motherhood for me- Dave married me hoping that I’d want to have children someday. I can distincly remember being at a meeting to present about my work with InterVarsity to a committee who would decide if they wanted to give a grant to our work.  Since I lived in West Michigan at the time the committee was made up of all older, white Dutch men in suits.  The only women in sight were the ones who cooked and served our lunch of ham buns and jello, and the mom who straggled into the meeting toting her baby on her hip and toddler in tow to drop off a form her husband had forgotten at home.  When I saw the tender looks on the mens faces as the haggard mother walked into the room  I remember thinking to myself “I never want to be looked at like that.”

you know it's bad when even Heidi Klum looks stressed out taking her kid grocery shopping.

To me, their looks were conveyed pity, condescension and an attitude of “look at this poor mother just trying to manage a day with young children while we men do all the important work and make the big decisions.”  I realize now that there was a lot of projecting of my own fears going on there about how I was viewed as a woman and sadly, some misogyny as well.  Who knows what those men were thinking? Maybe they were wishing they could ditch the suits and play in the sandbox and eat some popsicles instead of being in a stuffy meeting?

When I had my son Reuben, Dave and I decided that he would stay home part time while I would continue to work full time.  In part this decision was because we make the same amount of money and have the freedom to make decision based on what we’re passionate about and feel called to rather than salary.  However, I know that another part of me was terrified as being seen like the mom in the meeting. I didn’t want to disrupt meetings, I wanted to run meetings. I couldn’t fathom what it would be like to be away from the action of seeing God work on campus with students and staff and to be influential in shaping how students encounter Jesus.

yes, yes, we can do it all. or so we're told.

After all, if Jesus gave me gifts of preaching and teaching why the heck wouldn’t I use them?  For me, continuing to work full time was both a faith-based decision of asking the Lord to give me strength to do the work he was clearly calling me to and and prideful personal decision that I could prove that I was able to serve as a leader even with a little baby.

Now that I’ve worked for 10 years with InterVarsity and serve in a job I love I’m starting to think more about the quality of life I want to have and not just about my career ambitions.  The difficult thing about being a working mom is it seems you are constantly trading one kind of guilt for another. This is what is referred to as “the double-bind” the constant pull of how to navigate career development and family obligations.  When Reuben was little, I was thrilled to get a brief break from mommy life while speaking to or training students I still guiltily thought to myself “there goes 1-week of the only time in his life he’ll be 4-months old” and felt like a bad mom.  While I was at home with him and was still in the nursing phase every few hours, I guiltily thought “I am never going to get any work done! Why the heck did was I promoted with a 4-month old baby? I’m letting down the people I work for!” Then there’s the guilt of being too tired to want to engage emotionally with your kid or your husband, though you forgo the nap to play trains with your son. And when you juggle that for a number of years, you begin to wonder “is it worth it?”

For the month of February, I’m going to be posting once a week on this topic. I’ve talked to many other working moms and stay at home moms who struggle with guilt, are worried that their choice to stay home will limit their career options, or are worried they’ll mess up their kids if they work. I’d love to hear the things you struggle with, what you wish were different, and helpful ways that you’ve learned to navigate the double-bind.

So here is my question in response to this post: what do you feel most guilty about as a mom?

For me, I feel awful when Reuben asks “will you come play with me?” when I’m trying to clean up the house or shoot off some emails for work.  Though I often do go and play trains with him, I know that there will be work left undone and also that it’s o.k. for him to play by himself occasionally. I know we spend quality time together every day and that I don’t need to make every second of his childhood a magical playtime. Maybe it’s just his cute voice & those big blue eyes that get me. (In my best Admiral Akbar voice) It’s a trap! Guilt! Guilt either way!

oh admiral akbar, if only you could help me steer the mothership.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Categories : inner world, jesus, mom blogs

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