Tonight

Tonight my heart is heavy and sad. It’s Lent. I think that is what my heart is supposed to feel like. In light of the Lenten time I decided to go balls to the wall and give up complaining. Now, this is something that I have purposed in my heart not to do anyway so it should be easy peasy, right? False. Oh, so terribly false. In this time of reflection I’ve come to realize that most of what I do all day long is complain. It may almost never escape my mouth but on the inside I almost never stop.

I complain about the children, I complain about my weight, I complain about the mess, I complain about cleaning up the mess, I complain about my house, my yard, the neighbor’s beagle, I complain about Mister’s complaining, money, other humans, PBS, politics, wars, etc., etc.. I complain all the time. All of it. It makes my heart heavy I do it so much.

By nature, I’m a cynic and a pessimist but I always have hope. In recent months, I have felt my hope bubble diminish and wondered why. When I felt like the Lord was asking me to give up my whining for Lent, I didn’t understand but now I do. My whining is edging out all of the space for hope in my soul. It’s taking over.

My complaints have been formed from my perception of my life and the realization is painful. Most of the time I say and believe that my life is magical. I have an incredible husband, 3 completely stunning children, a beautiful home, amazing friends, lots of family who love me, the list is endless. But still, there are days when reality is a cruel, cruel thing. My goals are not being accomplished.

I am not in school, I am not a doctor. That blows.

What makes it more painful is often times when I get this way I don’t see the other things that are being accomplished in our life. I have 3 healthy babes that we have thus far raised on organic food and attached parenting. Considering where I came from, this is a serious accomplishment. I have a marriage that makes other people want to get married. That is a BIG deal, a really, really big deal. And even though in reality I haven’t truly studied the Bible in over a year I love Jesus, and in return His kindness to me has been immeasurable. He prompted me to give up complaining for Lent and now I know the source of my troubles. His grace is sufficient for everyday and His mercy is truly unceasing.

I love Lent.

Marriage: A Lenten Reflection

*Note: With my other blog being where I write most of the time and it’s focus being our life with the children, this has become the marriage/Lent/Advent blog.  I actually wrote this piece for a local periodical published by a young artistic community who love Jesus but thought I couldn’t let them have all the fun, so, enjoy.

I am married to an amazing man.

Marriage in our day seems like it could use a little definition.  By married I mean joined in covenant with and by God to an earthly being who is called to first and wholly love me.

When I was single, I had an odd definition of marriage based on observation.  The most prominent example I had of marriage did not reflect the glory and revelation that it was meant to but instead brought confusion and aversion.  If this is what marriage was, I most certainly did not want it.

However, the inevitable happened.  I met that ever imagined “someone” that is often spoken of at holiday hooplas, children’s birthday parties, family gatherings, super markets, walks in the neighborhood, coffee dates with friends, spa outings with the bestie, basically, anywhere you come into contact with another human, your “someone” is generally present whether you’ve met them or not.  My someone’s name is Jesse.

Jesse was weird.  He seemed like a mess of a human.  He ate Hostess cupcakes and Jones soda for lunch.  He would scale 2 stories to get to my balcony for the purpose of giving us ladies a fright.  He was loud, he was intriguing, he was flirtatious, but most of all, he was a mess.  If you had told me on the day that I met him that he would be my husband I would wonder why you didn’t like me.  While these observations may seem harsh, they are true.  They are a part of our story.  They are something that we have come to treasure.

As time went on I learned many more things about Jesse that made me realize he was more than I had surmised during the first couple of weeks that I knew him.  He was actually quite a deep well.  Jesse while he appeared to be flighty and flaky was truly someone who had built an interior castle.  When we would talk well into the night I was amazed that this was the same person who would without a second thought strip to his boxers upon the yelling of “Fancy pants and Steve!” by one of his brothers or the same person that would fit the contents of a three foot long pixie stick in his mouth all at once later resulting in heart palpitations.

I’ll spare you all the details, but 10 months after we met, Jesse on a floating platform in the middle of a lake after dark surrounded by fire and Frank Sinatra asked me to be his wife.  The only answer I could give him was yes.  His kindness had mortally wounded me and I would never again be the same.

After the initial happiness and euphoria at the thought of being married drifted away I remembered my aversion.  What have I done?  Marriage is not something I ever wanted to do, it was a stifling poison that ruined the partakers and jaded those around them.  I had made an awful mistake, and while this man seemed like the answer to a life long hope alive only in the deepest corners of my truest self I was not ready to oblige marriage, it would not take me alive.

As time wore on and our fateful day grew closer I was more confused.  I wanted to marry Jesse.  I wanted to be his partner in life forever.  I wanted to pursue our Creator together and create an environment of life and love around us that those we befriended would always know they would have a place in our love.  We decided to go to premarital counseling, because that is what Christians do, they seek the wisdom and counsel of those that have gone before in hopes of avoiding rookie mistakes and needless arguments.  We sought out a recommended couple in our community who agreed to meet with us.

When we arrived for our first session, we sat outside their home in our car for a solid ten minutes.  We were scared.  What if they told us we weren’t right for each other?  What if they told us not to get married?  What if they told us that we had heard wrongly from the Lord and the person who’s hand we held was not intended for us?  We summoned our strength, gathered our ridiculous fears and walked to their door.  Aside from all the silliness, there was a real issue that needed to be dealt with.  I didn’t like the idea of marriage.  Plain and simple.  I didn’t know what “submission” meant, what it was to be a “good Christian wife”, why Mr. cupcakes and Jones soda got the final word on all the important stuff and above all, together, those three things summed up to be the scariest question of all.  In marriage, would I still get to live my life?  Would I still be me?

In the model of marriage I most closely observed the answer was no.  The two parties involved were constantly trying to change the other.  Their language was harsh and demeaning and the more the demands were met or more likely, perceived to have been unmet, the more change was demanded.  The existence was misery, the union poison and the partakers constantly spent as year after year one tried to fit themselves into the mold of the other.  With this in mind, I sat on a plaid couch next to the man I would marry.

Our counselors were friendly, they greeted us with tea and warm eyes, their voices brimming with excitement over our decision to commit ourselves one wholly to the other.  We exchanged pleasantries, and over the course of the next 3 hours we told our story.  When we came to the end of our googly-eyed ramblings, the Mr. of the duo wiped his eyes and looked at us with love and told us very simply that “Your marriage is going to be a ten.  It will provoke to jealousy those around it and make people feel warmth in your home.”  The collective sigh of relief betwixt us was palpable and we all smiled as we cleared away our joyful tears.

As the weeks wore on a new picture of marriage was painted for me.  Submission of wife to husband was simply and beautifully explained to me by my mentoring Mrs. As the duty of a wife to let her husband love her.  “You must come under his mission.  What is his mission?  What did Paul say it was, to love you as Christ loved the church and gave His life for her.  You must simply, let him love you.”  Her words put peace in my soul beyond all understanding and it happened week after week.  Jesse having final authority was put in the light of wives being a husband’s golden hearing aid.  A mouthpiece of God given to him as his true helpmate, she would provide the pieces to the puzzle of life that he lacked and with her knowledge and understanding weighed equally, a husband could only then truly make the best decisions.

With my previous preconceptions melting away each week I felt more prepared to be Jesse’s wife.  I had a more accurate picture every day of what it meant to be joined to a loving man who with all of his faults above all, loved Jesus and secondly loved me.  However, my previous assertions about marriage not taking me alive and my fears of demanded change I would soon find out were quite just.

On our last night together the couple that had become our heroes left me with the most profound thing to ever impact me.  Mr. F. turned to me and while pointing to Jesse he said simply “You will be crucified on this cross.  Everyday will be another step closer to the death of yourself, marriage, will kill you, and at the end, you’ll look like Jesus.”

I’ve carried these words in my soul everyday for 5 years.  In this time of Lent I too walk to Calvary, every step, a death to selfishness and self-preservation.  Every lash a removal of that which asserts itself against the Uncreated.  I am married.  I am dying.  The things to which I used to cling and hold as my own have fallen by the wayside as I press on towards my goal of loving Him the Creator and being loved by him the created.  Five years later I know that Jesse’s love is changing me, but this change has not been demanded by harsh words or demeaning threats nor is the change itself for his personal gain.  The change that has been wrought in my heart and soul in our five years together has been a gift.  The gift of glimpses into heaven, a reflection in a mirror dimly of what our days lived out married to the Lamb will be.

In this Lenten season my reflections are filled with gratitude.  I am beyond thankful for my journey to Calvary upon the cross of love.

I’ve Been Neglecting you Horribly

This poor blog, it has fallen prey to the fate of many a cyber space journal, it has been sorely neglected. As I usually do, I would like to take this moment to say something about my mister, spurred by a few things.

First of all, my Gram passed away yesterday. This event has made the world look different to me. My Gram has always been, always. The earth feels strange without her, almost unfamiliar, she has always been here and even though we lived 500 miles apart the last several years that hasn’t mattered, knowing she existed was a comfort to me. So now, I’m a little lost, but comforted knowing that Gram loved Jesus and now loves Him more than ever. Now, my Gram was married to my Gramp for 57 years. Let me say that again fifty seven…fifty seven. My Gramp is not as comforted as I that Gram is with Jesus, he is now without the biggest part of his life. Since I saw him last nearly 2 weeks ago he hasn’t really stopped crying, knowing that he soon would be without Gram.

On the other end of the scale I have some friends who are getting married at the end of April and have been together a little over a year. Their love is fresh and tumultuous, easily upset but quickly forgiven. They both exhibit the tension of getting married in different ways but are simultaneously stressed and excited and neither can stop saying wonderful things about the other. They are new at this game. And it’s a wonderful mess.

Now, observing these 2 couples recently made me think about where we are. If the scale ranges from Seth and Reese to Gram and Gramp, we’d be considerably closer to Seth and Reese, but I feel more like Gram and Gramp.

Jesse always says he feels like we’ve been married forever. Our five year anniversary is in June but he always says that he won’t feel like we’ve been married for long until we hit 20 because to him 5, 10 and 15 are just implied. We just are.

I read this article the other day about brain chemistry in couples. It is generally accepted that after a period of time couples move from being madly in love to just being, but there are those that claim to still be madly in love years and even decades into their relationship. A study was done on a sample of these people and sure enough, when shown a photo of their spouse the dopamine still flowed through the VT area in their brains like the wine flows in Spain.

This is probably the most accurate description of us, I think that is why Jesse won’t feel like we’ve been married a long time until we hit 20 years. Because our love feels new yet aged. We work hard to keep it that way, to ensure it doesn’t go stagnant, or “companionate” as it were.

I’m in love and plan on being so for many years to come.

Other Selah

My last post here was about the baby girl, Selah Hope, with hydraencephaly.

Early this morning she went back to be with Jesus.  You can read her story here.

Picture Update!

Here are a couple of pictures for your viewing pleasure.

TQ trying to convince me he doesn't need to nap yet.

Noah. My sweet, sweet Naboo Bear

Selah. I think she is going to be a dancer.

Those of Whom the World was not Worthy

I recently discovered a new blog to follow. This one. This couple have adopted 11 children…ten and under. The most recent is an infant girl born four weeks ago with hydraencephaly.

This family has given this beautiful girl a home. Somewhere to be loved and wanted for however long she is on the earth. Her mother prays everyday for her to be made whole, where ever she is.

Please join me in also praying for their Selah Hope. That she would be whole.

The Little Things

Our life is crazy.  We have 3 children 18 months and younger.  3.  They are wonderful but breaks are needed and usually not all that possible, however, we have some amazing friends who help us out vastly along the way.  Jesse has been pretty overwhelmed for a couple of weeks.  The girls are keeping us away from sleep so it’s hard to feel good during the day.  I myself can live off of disturbingly little sleep while Jesse would still be dragging if he slept a solid 10 hours a night.  So, I decided it was time for a little surprise.

One of our very favorite couples are expecting their first child and like to “practice” with our brood.  These lovely people volunteered to watch the girls while I surprised the boys with a little party of three time.  I made this killer beef curry dish I’ve been tweaking lately (they eat beef in south east India because of the Christian/Muslim population), packed the picnic basket and told the boys that when they got out of the shower, we were going on a date.

Being that my day is rather full generally speaking I was super proud of myself to arrange anything other than diaper changes, feedings, cleaning, dressing, cooking and drinking copious amounts of water.  It was a big accomplishment.  Especially considering that all Jesse does all day is “work” at his “job” where all he does is unload heavy appliances from semi trucks and move them around a suspended concrete jungle inside or out in 112 degree heat index.  Yeah, he has it easy.

The three of us headed to the park near the “lake” where we ate our curry and sat on a blanket under a tree whilst a giant thunderstorm closed in on our position.  I didn’t care, just an hour was all we needed.  After dinner, despite the rain, Tae and I climbed on the playground equipment until we deemed it unsafe.  Unsafe like the wind knocked Tae over and the pea sized hail assaulted my skin.  It was alright though, we played in the rain while we could, which we all love and then headed for the safety of our car.  At this point our dear friend called and said that Lala had been crying for the entire time and they were sure she needed to eat.  Which she didn’t.  She is just who she is and her emotions needed to come out.  When we pulled in the driveway, she was asleep.  Not a big deal, that hour was all we needed.  All we needed as three.

As I changed out of my soaking wet clothes I thought of what mister should surprise me with next.  A hair cut and color, a new pair of shoes, a date (GASP!), a vasectomy, a day at the spa, any of these would be wonderful,  but, as I dwelt on them all I thought was “Why didn’t HE surprise ME?”  After all, he only does serious manual labor all day long, he has more time to come up with this stuff than I do, what was HIS deal?  At this point I began to get annoyed and list the ways I have sacrificed for him.  For us.  For the kids.  And as the list grew I realized something that changed everything.  He wore his Lovedrug shirt.  It’s my favorite.  I think he looks amazing in it.  And he shaved.  Both were done solely because he loves me.

My annoyance melted.  These little things were enough to remind me of everything.  My mind raced through snapshots of our wedding, hours spent in our blue room in Dale’s house, eating take-out on our bed on our anniversary which also happened to be the day we closed on and moved into our home, two positive pregnancy tests, countless road trips, walks around the neighborhood, baby showers, weddings, funerals, painting rooms, buying furniture, making dinner, paying bills, waking up early, going to bed late, baking, mouse hunting, laughing, crying, loving.  Life.  Our life, the one that we have made together and recently filled with children.  All I could do was pray that I never discount the little things.

New Blog

I’ve started a new blog to document the adventure that is having three children under 18 months. Should be a good time. Check us out here.

Update, bullet points style

Hello friends,

It’s been a bit since I offered any kind of communication to the greater internet community so here goes.

-The girls are 8 weeks old.  Eight weeks.  That means 2 months…we’ve been doing this thing for two months and no one has evaporated, exploded or been arrested.  I could also mention in a funny way that in 8 weeks the yard has been mowed one time.  We are the scourge of the neighborhood.

-A couple of weeks ago at church I heard nearly an entire sermon and I didn’t even have a child in my arms.  It was amazing.  I can’t even remember the last time that happened.  More importantly in that sermon our pastor offered a bit of a challenge.  To read.  Read?  What is that?  Unless we’re talking subtitles on a pixar movie or my bio text book I haven’t read anything in a long time…like a year and a half.  But, I figured I could read The Way of the Heart this month.  It is less than 100 pages and large print.  I think I can.  Jesus is something that still very much interests me.  It’s time He and I had a little time together in 45 second to 1 and half minute intervals, I feel like that is a good goal.

-Yesterday at church a friend who didn’t know that I had had twins looked at me like I was a mutant crazy person.  It was a look that said “I couldn’t be more glad that I’m not you.”.  That is the most infuriating look that we get…I hate it.  I truly do.  It says so many things like “What makes you think that you’re going to survive this?”  I think that even though some days I wish I had a different life that my three kids are amazing and when I’m 40 and empty nesting y’all are going to be so jealous that you’d wish you had 3 kids in 18 months.  BAM!

-2 HUGE parenting milestones for Jesse and I occurred in the last 2 weeks.  The first was as trip to urgent care on a Sunday when we noticed that Tae’s left leg was swollen twice the size of the other with heat and a red ring of irritation.  I couldn’t find a bite though so I assumed it was staph and spent the rest of the night making sure that he didn’t have a fever and then in the morning finding a place that would work in conjunction with my pediatrician’s office…it was neato.  As I thought, it was staph so began Tae’s first ever course of anti-biotics which make me more nervous than anything, anything besides immunizations which brings me to parenting milestone #2.  Tae went to his 18 month check-up last week where I finally bit the bullet and had them give him a shot.  You see, Tae is as much boy as a boy can be so the bumps and the bruises have multiplied the point where I am super nervous that he is going to fall on a rusty piece of sheet metal (where he’d find one I don’t know) so tetanus it was.

-In other Taegan news, he is 32 inches tall, 26 pounds and has a giant head, as per usual.  Also he did something awesome.  We were at a friends house who had recently replaced their carpet with brand new extra plush cushy stuff.  They had it all the way down the stairs into the basement.  Taegan was constantly touching the carpet, jumping on the carpet, running his feet on the carpet, which I thought was adorable until it happened.  You see, Taegan was about to take a calculated risk.  When we got up the next morning he walked to the top of the stairs, hand in mine and then turned around and THREW HIMSELF DOWN THE STAIRS.  Yeah.  All the way down.  He apparently thought it was the best thing that’s ever happened to him.  He did it several more times to a symphony of screams from mommy, daddy and hosts.  It was actually kind of amazing.

-Neither Jesse nor I are going to school this fall.  We have three kids.  18 months and younger.  I googled that the other day…apparently no one else has ever done this before.  Therefore I plan to start another blog about parenting 3 very young children which will eventually get me a book deal and in turn pay for the raising of our children.

-I want to go to work so badly I can taste it.  I love working.  Not that I don’t love my kids because I do, I love them with all my heart, but at this point I have been out of the house by myself 1 time.  One time in nearly 9 weeks.  So in the next month or so I hope to start hostessing at Blanc.

-”Life is long.”  This is something that my second mom said to me not that long ago.  “Char, life is long, you’re still going to be a doctor.”  I believe her but I also believe it is going to happen later, much later.  “Life is long” has also become my rule to live by.  It’s what I say to myself when the walls are closing in, when all three kids are screaming, when Taegan throws a fit because I won’t give him a cookie.  Life is long, and this, this is only a moment in that long life, a moment that too shall pass.

-I always find myself needing to say something about my husband in these posts.  The blog is technically charandjesse but he contributes more in spirit than in actuality.  In all honesty, I was the worst version of myself when I was pregnant this last time.  There was estrogen seeping out of my pores and it was bad.  For everyone.  On top of the mood problems caused by the estrogen my poor gallbladder also fell victim to it’s evil.  I was down and out a lot of days.  Jesse had to have an active IMFLA (intermittent family leave act) for my whole last trimester so he could leave work to take care of Tae when I would have an attack.  Once he ran out in the middle of the night to get me pain pills and then took care of Taegan the next day when I slept for 15 hours.  Yet, I still treated him badly.  Now that the girls are here and we’re not sleeping you’d think it would be a continuation of the same.  But my gallbladder has improved greatly and estrogen has been replaced by other hormones so I’m much more myself.  And in that, I am so grateful and so in love with my mister.  He has gone above and beyond for our family and in the midst of the little sleep, the screaming kids and being super poor (diapers alone may bankrupt us), we are thriving together.  God is so good to us.

-We have driven both to Minnesota and St. Louis with our lovely children.  Minnesota to celebrate my sisters’ graduation from high school and St. Louis to say farewell to a close family friend who is with Jesus now but much sooner than he should have been.

So that is our bullet-point update.  I’ll post something when the new blog is started.

You’ve got your hands full

This is a sentence I hear a lot.  From anyone.  Strangers, friends, acquaintances, doctors, professors, etc..  This sentence is generally followed by a question.  The question of course being “how do you do it?”.  One day at a time, and if a day is too much then we do it an hour at a time.  Or some times we need to take it a minute at a time but this is how we do.  Now 5 weeks old the girls are doing wonderfully.  Selah some times will sleep through the night while Noah who was smaller at birth will still eat every 2-4 hours around the clock.  My most beloved Taegan is adjusting well.  He always tries to be helpful with the girls, it usually ends with a screaming infant but he tries.  We try to let him know that doesn’t need to be a big boy yet, just big brother which consists of being very cute.  He has that in the bag.

Today so far has been great.  9:30am and Tae and I are watching Ratatouille while the girls have not yet woken up.  Tae and I are both dressed and fed and I may even have put on some make-up.  In moments not quite as peaceful, when I feel myself succumbing to the thoughts that my hands are too full, that my life is completely out of control, that my days are never going to get easier I take a deep breath, I put the dishes in the sink and tell myself it can wait.  It really is amazing just how many things truly can.

Well, Tae just became unsatisfied with the movie and is re-writing Mozart’s piano sonatas so I am going to go join him.