It all started with the dish brush...

It all started with the dish brush.

You see, I have a brush used for dishes. There's one for dishes, one for scrubbing the sink, and one for scrubbing veggies. They are clearly marked. Except, of course, the dish brush.

One day, I wasn't feeling well, and my beloved husband, who is fantastic about doing the dishes so I don't have to, decided to scrub the sink--the job I usually do. But, he used the dish brush.

I was nearby and within three seconds, I had an argument of epic proportions in my mind. To correct or not to correct. I know, I know. The man was helping me out. I needed to keep my mouth shut. But, you know I couldn't. Those were my extra neat dish brushes from IKEA and last time I tried to get more they were gone and it's 3 hours to IKEA!! And he was getting sink crud all over it. Do you know how many germs are in a kitchen sink?

According to MSNBC, "Kitchen sinks are dirtier than most bathrooms. There are typically more than 500,000 bacteria per square inch in the drain alone. Plus your sponge, basin and faucet handles are crawling with bacteria as well."

While I'm on the subject, please go wash your dishrag. Within two hours of use a dishrag has 30 million germs. By the next day, it has 18 billion! Can't even count 'em after 3 or four days. Nasty!

But, I digress...

So, you probably already figured I spoke up. I tried in my three epic seconds to come up with a way to say it in a way that wasn't too jerk-like. I said, "You know there's a brush for the sink, right?" and I even said it with a smile.

You know what my husband heard? "Why are you doing it all wrong, idiot?"

This led to a great conversation. Once we all calmed down. ;o)

This reminds me of something my dad used to say all the time. "I know you believe you understand what you think I said, but I'm not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant."

You know what we learned? We think completely differently from each other. That's not exactly new information, but our discussion was. He let me know that his brain works like the traffic in the many lanes that circle the Arch de Triumph in Paris. No real rules or organization. Everyone just goes.

My brain? Oh, my. It has traffic cops and well-organized lanes and everyone knows the rules and obeys them.

I'm a planner. It's true. Prior proper planning prevents poor performance. I believe it, and I live it. I wake up planning everything that makes our world go around. I have two meals planned at the beginning of every day. I have calendars and lists and reminders and a constant voice in my mind telling me what needs to be done. It's the hamster on a wheel that I wish I could turn off when my head hits the pillow.

I can, however, definitely and very happily, fly by the seat of my pants. For example, we do take off frequently and unexpectedly on road trips and I don't need to have a plan or map or schedule. I thrive that way as well. But for twenty-ish years, keeping my home running smoothly has been my job, and I really do try my best.

I know that a lot of people plan better and are much more organized than I am. I have too many messes around me to fit into the world of the ultra-organized, and I just now got my first label-maker. One such ultra-organized person I know was known to say that God is in the planning. Hmmm...not too sure about that. Not that He can't be, but I think that often I can plan Him right out of things. He doesn't need my schedule or my ideas. He doesn't need me to keep a list for Him or play traffic cop.

The Bible would read quite differently if it was based on human thinking. When Moses arrived at the Red Sea with bad guys chasing him from behind, he was told to step in faith into a situation that made NO sense. With human thinking, there would've been a boat-building committee and a project manager and a few dozen meetings about how to get the people across. With God working it was GO. Just go. And He took care of the details. And, didn't He?!

When it comes to the big stuff in my life, I have totally learned to let GO. When you know love, you can fully trust.

I do not know what my future holds. Our family is in the process of standing at the edge of our own Red Sea and waiting for the GO. We don't know exactly what it looks like, but we are enjoying watching the puzzle pieces start to take shape. And we dream and hope and wait. But faith doesn't look like a plan. Faith is non-sense. It doesn't look like a list or a project. It has no definitive shape. It's stepping forward into all and whatever when God gives the word.

It's like a road trip with no plan or map or schedule and no savings account. Can you imagine? I sure can. We did that a couple years ago and made it 13,000 miles and had the time of our lives. And it was such a beautiful picture of the word GO. Perhaps we needed to see it played out like that so for the rest of our lives we would take Him at His word, and know that there is simply no such thing as God dropping the ball.

And, life's a lot more fun with a few surprises isn't it?

Leave nothing but footprints...

I heard a quote this morning as I took some time to myself to watch a movie. The story was about a mother who is conflicted between her own needs and dreams, and the need to follow through with the choices she had made and do what she knew was right.

She said, "When a woman makes the choice to marry and have children, in one way her love begins but in another way, it stops. You build a life of details and you just stop, and stay steady so that your children can move and when they leave they take your life of details with them. Your expected to move on again, but you don't even remember what moved you because nobody has asked in so long. Not even yourself."

Every single woman has a story. The grandmother you knew with gray hair and a worn-out body was once a woman with plans and dreams. She became a mother at some point, and if she was a good one motherhood became her world. Loving and serving those around her replaced the things that she had envisioned once upon a time.

It is the constant laying down of self that looks the most like love. Every mother that stands out in that role has succeeded this way.


“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”
― Joseph Campbell

It's so easy to get lost in the shuffle of details. I lose myself all the time. I get so busy making everything happen for everyone that I forget Alison. I leave her in the dust somewhere wondering how to find her way back. And then I do exactly the opposite of my intention to do everything right by making the family around me miserable instead of creating the happiness I'm working so hard to create.
But, I must say, I have never felt like I've lost any dreams along my path. What God has given me became a dream that I never knew I had. As my children grow and are at the very edge of the nest, it sure does make a girl think about who she is and will be after all the commotion.

At this point, I find myself daring to dream some new dreams. It's a fascinating view.

Now, I'm going to be honest here. I think there is a generation of mothers and wives that have begun to think of the commitment to being a wife and/or mother as a hobby. They've left themselves an opt-out clause in the back of their minds. These women are bent on the pursuit of their own happiness above all else and have no qualms making sure that their own needs are met.

It's a far cry from the kind of woman I want to be. I made a commitment to be a wife and there is no opt-out. I chose to become a mother and until these children of mine are firmly established on their own two feet, I am here for them. Above all else, God has given me the responsibility to love Him, my husband and my children--in that order.

It's the balance that's the rub.

The other day, I was hiking in some of God's most beautiful wilderness with my family. As I walked, I thought of the hundreds of walks our family has taken together all over this country. I thought of mountain trails with snakes, and beaches with dolphins. I remember taking home with me a beautiful acorn or seashell or stone and hoping that that token would be a reminder of that moment.

I then remembered a sign I had seen in some national park that said, "Take nothing but memories. Leave nothing but footprints." There is no item that can magically transport me back to a time I'd like to revisit. Although I've told God several times that I hope in heaven we get to revisit a favorite moment or two. What I wouldn't give to snuggle one of my toddlers again and smell their little necks and get a big, ol' sticky kiss. But, for now, I take with me the memories, tucked safely in my heart, and pull them out every now and again and roll them around in my mind like so many seashells from so many precious moments.

As I walked behind my husband on our hike, I tried following in his footsteps for a few minutes. I could do it for a short while only since my stride isn't quite the length of his. As I walked, I hoped he'd walk in a way that I could keep up. That he would consider me behind him, and make sure I was taken care of.

Don't we owe that to these children we've committed to blazing a trail for? To find the balance in such a way that they are not our burden, but our gift. And that we are committed to walking in a way that honors them and makes a way for them to be all they are called to be.

To consider them as we create the path

Today, I want to thank my friend, the single mother who has shown me what sacrificial love looks like as she blazes a trail hand in hand with her God and leaves clear footprints for her son. She has chosen to find the balance between her dreams and the commitment she has to being the kind of mother her son will always be thanking his God for.

I honor my friend, the mother with several little ones. Juggling her work, the constant needs of a household and her babies, the needs of her husband, taking care of an elderly grandparent, and fending off the ever-present option of getting lost in the details. She does it with selflessness and love and it shows.

The proof is in the pudding on this one. When you look at the children, you see the love of the parents. When you get one of their hugs, you can tell the love they get from their mothers.

My prayer is to love. It's that simple. To love and not get lost. To love even a fraction of the way my God loves me.

Hats off to you, moms. And Happy Mothers' Day.