Well that just happened.

Sometimes all the beautiful celebrations of life come in packaged clusters.  

In these moments, you have no choice but to ride out the crazy schedule, throwing sanity to the wind and sleep for another day.  For it's time to celebrate! 

My latest overabundant cluster lasted all of three weeks.  It began with the joyous celebration of a sister's wedding.  Then the fun of hosting my little sister and showing her life in China (i.e. the mundane beauty of motherhood).  Next came a party that celebrated the fact that Dave and I have a thriving one year old (i.e. we survived as parents for 365+ days!).  Soon after, we were welcoming a brand new baby cousin into the Evans family!

  

As each event morphed into the next and was sometimes fogged by jet lag, I didn't have the time or linear thought to reflect.  And if I tried, it just came out like this:

"Well that just happened."

And then move along I went.     

But now I sit here back in my house with no visitors, no itinerary, and no parties to plan and I take in this quiet.  I take in the quiet realizing that this is my chance to build routine again and revisit the stacks that have been piled, moldy food left in the fridge, or unpacked suitcases sprawled in my bedroom.

 "An overwhelmed schedule means an underwhelmed soul".  

-Lysa Terkeurst 

I read this recently and was reminded that in all the busyness, our hearts are vulnerable to the most sacrifice.  That is...if we refuse to acknowledge Him in the crazy.  I can say I'm tired, but not burnt out.  Craving routine, but not hopelessly lost on where to start again.  I think the only difference to other times of busyness is gratitude.  While I really only had the mental ability to muster "Well that just happened", those few seconds were enough for me to feel overwhelmed with His blessings of family, new birth, proud completion, and community.  I wonder if living a life fully acknowledging Him could change that quote to: An overwhelmed soul has joy in an overwhelmed schedule.

Try as we may to seek out simplicity, there are seasons of life that we just can't help but be busy.  Let Him be there...glorified in your crazy schedule.

Mei ban fa.

"Mei ban fa" (May bahn fa)

There is nothing to be done.

One can't do anything about it.

By far one of the most frustrating yet freeing phrases I'm still trying to learn how to breathe through.  The phrase that can make the most sensible person come emotionally undone.  No one wants to hear there is nothing...you...can...do.  

We don't like to hear it because most of us were raised with the inner dignity of taking things into our own hands and letting hard earned perseverance work it's magic.  We pride ourselves in figuring things out and going against the odds.  Yay!  We did something that we were told could not be done!  Living in a culture where customer service is not their publicized forte, I have experienced many a moments where I received a "mei ban fa" only to figure it out myself and prove them wrong.  Where there's a will, there's a way, right?  

But what about the other times in life when you're not trying to convince a new taxi driver that a particular road does in fact lead to your house?  What about the times when you're not persuading the store owner that all of your groceries will fit into your shopping bag?  

The "mei ban fa" moments of life when...

-flights are canceled

-babies refuse to sleep

-luggage gets lost

-children get sick

-countries hold tight to new policies 

-you're at the mercy of corruption

-babies still refuse to sleep

-pollution surrounds you

-important paperwork processes slowly

What about THESE things?  Will our perseverance and savvy ideas make a child sleep?  Maybe.  But it definitely won't bring a flight back, or clean the air, or make luggage magically reappear.

I just recently saw a handwritten doodle from a friend that said "And if not, he is still good".  My seeing that could not have come at a better time since I was so consumed with all of these nothing to be done  moments.  This couldn't have been a sweeter tail end for me.

The next time I feel hopeless as I hold my feverish child for the 5th day...He is still good.

When my dear friend has luggage lost in airline abyss...He is still good.

In the moments where hope for reconciliation seems lost...He is still good.

Not sure really how to close this out.  Cause how do you follow the words "He is still good"?  It kind of trumps everything I could ever want to say.

... 

His Poeima

If right at this moment someone asked me my greatest wish, it would be to get inside of her little mind and see what she's been pondering about.  

At 11 months, she takes in the world with wonder, silence, stares, and caution.  She's not the type to fling herself at new people or new experiences with wild abandon, but instead prefers to watch and tiptoe her way into the world.  When she is crawling and meets a new surface, she taps on it for a little while before proceeding.  As she takes bites from an unrecognizable food, she holds it in her fingers and nibbles it before letting the whole piece in.  When she picks up something and hears a "No", she practically flings it across the room and then wants a hug.  Gentle, dainty, and quiet.  

   

 Every day feels like an opportunity to uncover who she is.  The more I know her, the better I feel I can love her well.  I want to grasp now that Nora will never be a duplicate me, or a duplicate of one of her future siblings.  Even with her life only 11 months long, I must daily awaken myself to the truth that she is His handiwork. Sure...my body carried her those long 9 months, but I had nothing to do with knitting together her personality, inner desires or quirks.  I'm not nearly as creative.

 Lately I've been reading this book  called "A Million Little Ways: Uncover the Art you were made to Live" by Emily Freeman.  She talks about how the words workmanship or masterpiece used in the Ephesians passage "For we are His workmanship..." are translations from the Greek word poiema (poem).  

"God calls you his workmanship, his poiema.  What happens when God write poetry?

We do.  We happen.

We are walking poetry, the kind that moves, the kind who has hands and feet, 

the kind with mind and will and emotion.  

We are what happens when God expresses himself."

My precious almost one year old was created first as a poem to display the glory of God.  And He does it through everyone else by their diverse personalities in a million little ways.  I feel blessed to see His glory through her personality so untainted and pure.  Full of wonder, slow speed and observation. She is His perfect poem when she is completely herself.  So be shy Nora, stay cautious, and continue letting people know when you've "had enough" of being held.  Cause that's you.  

The Amazing Race to the States

Two thirds into our trip back to America, Dave and I lay wide awake at 3:00 am.  We were camped out in an unplanned stay at a Travelodge already having traveled across the ocean and longing to officially ARRIVE at our final destination. As both of us were half laughing/sighing as we processed our trip thus far, I couldn't help but find some semblance of an analogy:

"I feel like we are running the Amazing Race...with a baby."

The moment I made the connection, everything we had gone through over the course of the previous day and a half started transforming into "Roadblocks", "U-turns", "Speed bumps", "Detours", "Pit stops"...all the lingo they use on the show!  I just couldn't help myself.  Only God can use this humorous connection to begin healing my frazzled, exhausted, overemotional heart.  

If you're not familiar with the show Amazing Race, I apologize if my connections are confusing.  Just ignore the references, and laugh about the misfortunes all on their own!  The host of the show, Phil Keoghan, will be helping to share this story, so just imagine his New Zealand accent with everything in italics. 

On this leg of the race, teams will depart from Shenyang, China and make their way to the United States via stops in Beijing, China and Newark, NJ.  The first group to depart is Team Evans at 6:30 am.  Team Wheeler, Betts and Evans were all on the first flight out, ahead of the other teams.  

At this point, if we were on the show we would have looked like those perky backpacker types all jumping up and down just ready for the adventure.  We felt fresh, were showered, and had huge smiles. 

   .

Once teams landed in Beijing, the Evans were sent through a U-turn and were required to go BACK to baggage claim, recheck their luggage and get ready for their international flight.   Little did they know they would be U-turned again and recheck their luggage upon arriving in the States.

On this detour, at the half way mark of the 12 hour flight, teams will be required to take turns soothing a screaming baby.  In order to perform this detour successfully, teams must try out at least 3 of the given props (finger puppets, Ergo baby carrier, baby books, finger foods, airplane barf bags and your own singing voice) to help calm the child.  When the head stewardess sees that you have attempted your best efforts at not waking the entire cabin, she will hand you your next clue. 

 Syracuse, New York is the Pit stop for this leg of the race.  However, in this roadblock, teams will be required to brainstorm how to get to the pit stop most efficiently after discovering that their 9:00 pm flight out of Newark, NJ has been canceled.  Teams may choose to stay in a hotel, rent a car, or take the next flight out at 4:30 pm the next day.  None of this will be covered or reimbursed by the airlines, so teams will need to be creative in how to fund their decision.    

Double Road Block (I just made that up).  All luggage that was intended to be on the canceled flight is locked up and may not be retrieved until the next day.  If the desk clerk thinks teams have spoken to her without excessive emotion, she will hand them their next clue and send their luggage to their final destination within the next two days.

For this speed bump, all teams that chose  the rental car option will find that only 1 of the 5 rental car options will have cars left.   This may or may not add an extra hour to their journey.  The only cars that will be in their affordable price range will be slightly bigger than a mini cooper.  All teams needing anything like a car seat will be extra squished ;). 




After having already traveled 24 hours with a fussy baby, I wish had an EXPRESS PASS so I could just skip all of this and get there already!  But alas...there is more left to this "leg of the race".  If I had a camera in my face at this point like the true reality show, I would be that girl sobbing and crying looking like the world is over.  Just picture it: I'm in the back seat of this tiny rental car at 11:00 pm sitting on my legs because of no space, crying: "I'm...just...so...tired!"  "Now my legs are all squished, and we have to sit in a car for four hours, and you're going to fall asleep...we're going to die!"
I have discovered something: Exhaustion makes me look like a child.  So glad there was no camera in my face.  I'm glad the world doesn't define my identity by my one fleeting moment of weariness.  But back to the story...




As all the other teams wanted to save their money, they chose to risk waiting for the free flight at 4:30 the next day.  Team Evans decided to take the rental car + hotel option and rest for the night at a Travelodge  to drive fresh and awake the next morning.  They enjoyed a complimentary breakfast and were on their way the next morning at 8:00.

Picture our little family at this pit stop.  And the cool thing was that Dave's mom was waiting for us there to help take us to our final destination (2 more hours in the car).  I can just hear Phil say "As the winners of this leg of the race, you have each won a free vacation to the Adirondacks.  There you will stay directly on the lake with boats to use, trails to hike, and screened in porches to nap in!"

As I type this, I realize that it really wasn't THAT big of a deal.  But everything with a baby feels 10X more intense (at least I think so), so it felt like our journey lasted a lifetime.  We were able to rest in the Adirondacks for 2-3 days but then we are back in the car for a 10 hour journey to Michigan for my cousin's wedding!  Crazy to be traveling again, but looking forward to seeing family!

Richardson/Spoelma/Chase family, you are our next "leg of the race"!

Attached

I've really been searching for a redeemed perspective to this whole "Mom attached" phase.  I understand it is a developmental mark and therefore should be something that reassures me.  Yet hearing my child scream for the entire 2 minutes of my bathroom escape, or for the 5 minutes to prepare her lunch, or the 10 minutes to grab a shower, makes it...difficult.  

"Ummm...where do you think you're going?"  

Being the verbal processor that I am, most of my convictions come when I'm sharing my heart with someone.  Just the other day I happened to be explaining this whole "phase" to my mom and I had said something along the lines of:

"It's like she constantly needs to be reassured that I love her or something!  Even though I just got done tickling her, smooching her, and cuddling with her..."

The very moment those words left my mouth, I felt a pang of guilt.  Wow, Lauren...what a terrible thing...to reassure your daughter of your love, over and over and over.  Why is that such a burden to you?    

Babies have this innate way to make fools of adults, shame the wise, and humble the proud.  They just don't know their secret power.  The very moment we get aggravated by something they are doing, we are most likely guilty of the SAME exact thing!

"I'm going to play and keep one eye on you at the same time..."

We as adults (at least myself), are constantly seeking approval...all...the...time.  Whether we verbalize it or just long for it deep inside, there is this forever "attachment" to being loved, feeling appreciated or being accepted.  We either incessantly ask other people "Do you think this is okay?" or we let the thoughts of "I hope she isn't mad at me" consume us.  

"Don't you go making any fast moves, Mom!"

At how intense I thought my daughter's attachment was to feeling reassured, mine is that much stronger.  And I know better than to think I'm not already IMMEASURABLY accepted, loved, and appreciated.  Whenever I allow myself to be attached to the approval of others, may I remember the truth that I AM approved, loved, and accepted.  And that's coming from someone who has perfection as His standard!   

The prize winning look as I go into the kitchen, or the bathroom, 
or any other room for that matter.

I don't have to freak out when I don't sense His presence.  Cause I know better.  He loves me the same that he did 5 minutes ago, accepts me the same as he did 10 minutes ago, and longs for me to embrace that every waking moment.  So bring on the shrill screams, Nora.   For with each one, you are allowing our Heavenly Father to reveal to me how ridiculous I look when I forget His love for me.  Like your precious Jesus Storybook Bible says: "God loves His children - with a Never Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love."

But this look is my absolute favorite...aka "Daddy's home!"

I feel like an astronaut.

There is nothing more nauseating to me than feeling like I am spinning wildly out of control. It could be as literal as being flung around by an amusement park ride and as emotional as desperately searching for joy. 

The deep breaths.  Inhale...exhale...finding a clear train of thought in the midst of tantrums.  Surrendering to the fact that my new neighbors probably think I'm neglectful from how much my child screams a day.

The delirium of singing lullabies to my husband, thinking it's my daughter that I'm soothing for the 5th time that night.

The reality that I have talked more about bowel movements (not mine) in the last month than I ever care to in a lifetime.  

The out of body experience when I allow bitterness to rule and my city walls of self control have seemed to crumble.

Unraveling.  Spinning.  Wildly clinging for something to hold me still, for I'm getting sick. For right when I feel like I can stand again, something else comes and spins me around.  If you've ever seen the movie Gravity, I feel like I'm Sandra Bullock (an astronaut) frantically clinging to something that will keep me from aimlessly floating and drifting off.  

You see, they only had about 90 minutes before that same flying projectile would take it's orbit and hit them again.  For them it was destroyed space craft that flung them into the abyss.  For the past 2 months, our flying projectiles have been ALL the emotions that come with teething, constipation, transition to a new house, and extreme mommy attachment.  Oh yeah, and all at the same time.  

  Spinning, grasping, longing.

The beautiful thing about experiencing something like this as a family is that always one of us is stronger than the other.  And it's in those moments we cling to.  In the moments when Nora is the strong one, Dave and I lay comatose at an early 5:00 while Nora sits up between us beating her hands on our bellies.  Stay happy, sweet child...as you let us rest, we are regaining our strength.  Or maybe Dave is the one a little less frazzled and comes home to stand in the middle of her moodiness and my impatience.  

But see that's just it.  I don't want to live life just spinning wildly in between the time frames of flying projectiles.    The phases that baby's journey through can surely feel like you're in a constant orbit of no sleep, tantrums and nursing strikes.  When you finally recover from one round, there is more coming your way.  It's either more teeth, another new environment, bigger personalities, or stronger more persevering lungs.  

In the middle of all this, I can't help but think of this quote from dear Ann (seriously I feel like she's my friend, so she gets a first name reference):

The spirit to spirit combat I endlessly wage with Satan is this ferocious thrash for joy. He sneers at all the things that seem to have gone hideously mad in this sin-drunk world, and I gasp to say God is good.  The liar defiantly scrawls his graffiti across God's glory, and I heave to enjoy God...and Satan strangles, and I whiten knuckles to grasp real Truth and fix that beast to the floor.

-Ann Voskamp One Thousand Gifts

So...even though my knuckles feel white today.  I will rest knowing that when I draw near to God, He draws near to me.  When I allow it, He is the gravity that pulls me toward himself saying "Look, just look at my glory!"  

So while every now and then I will also spin, flail, gasp, scream...and then get hit again with the same thing as I did yesterday, I will gaze at His glory.  For it is bright, overwhelming, and draws me in.

    

Drip, drip, drip.

Drip.  Drip. Drip.

Oh how I'm resisting the urge to be an Israelite right now. Resisting the urge to completely forget where I used to be.

But right now all of this dripping in my kitchen is making it far to easy to forget. If I am a so called Israelite and my last apartment was my Egypt, then this dripping in my kitchen is my hunger in the desert.    An "affliction" only caused by one thing...forgetting.  Forgetting that this side of heaven life isn't supposed to be perfect.  Forgetting that He is always with me and it's me that needs a corrective lens.  He may not be a cloud by day or fire by night, but He is beauty in ALL things.  The ordinary, the simple, the slow.  Even the droplets of water currently collecting in my mixing bowl.  

So in this new oasis from mold, I haven't found perfection.  Praise the Lord.  I'm up for the redeeming challenge of searching for His beauty before I let out another complaining sigh.  For He is working in the loud things like quick apartment moves and in the quiet moments where my daughter pinches her little fingers to grab.  I just need to open...my...eyes - and give thanks.