Nag Less, Pray More

Author: juliesc@pacbell.net (Page 11 of 12)

A Different Kind of Easter

Our children up at Grandma Lu’s house on Easter, 1996.

 

It’s Easter afternoon, and just my husband and I are home.  We did not have an egg hunt or a make your own pizza party as we have in years past.  We gave the kids and significant others their Easter gifts in reusable bags on Tuesday when we met for lunch.  We’ve napped on and off this afternoon.  I am just beginning to smell a delicious glazed ham baking in the oven.  It has been such a peaceful day, focusing on why we celebrate this holiday.

It may seem odd that we aren’t spending it with our children.  For the first Easter in her life, our daughter does not live in the same town as we do.  She and her fiance are involved in church activities, and school resumes after Spring Break tomorrow.  They have enough going on in their lives without insistent parents demanding that they come up to visit for the second time in a week.  Our son does live in town, but he is involved at his church and is a staff member in a college ministry.  His day was busy, and hanging out with mom, dad, and the pets in his childhood home isn’t the most exciting way to spend Easter.

We could have driven the 90 miles up to my in-laws’ house in the rain, but my husband had a busy morning helping with children’s ministry at church.  He ran sixteen miles yesterday, and I ran ten.  Our bodies are tired.  It feels so good to rest.   Monday morning will start with a bang in just over 14 hours, and we are finding that our weeks run so much more smoothly if we have taken the time to fully decompress and prepare for the coming weeks on the weekends.

We do look forward to many special times spent with our children and the families they will create, but we have learned to choose our battles in parenting. whether our children are three years old or 23 years old.  We treasure the memories we have of all the Easters we have spent together, but for today, it feels wonderful to put our feet up, savor the silence, and thank God for sending His Son to pay the penalty for our sins and triumph over death.   Happy Resurrection Day to each of you, however you celebrate it!

 

Sundays at 10

The last picture of my father and I, February, 2015

I had an appointment every Sunday morning for well over a decade that I seldom missed.  I kept this appointment in airports, car rides, hotels, and outdoors, but I usually was at home.  As the clock displayed 9:59, I would make myself comfortable and dial a Kansas phone number with my father’s words about curfew when I was a teenager reverberating through my head, “When I say 10 o’clock, I don’t mean 10:01.  That’s not good enough!”  As soon as the clock struck 10, I would connect the call and hear my father’s booming voice on the other end.  Our Sunday telephone calls would last up to two hours as we discussed everything under the sun from gas prices to family life to health issues to Shark Tank, one of his favorite television shows.   We never failed to tell one another that we loved each other before we completed the call.

My father was a  good and brilliant man, but he was not easy to please.   One of his favorite sayings was, “Be reasonable.  Do it my way!” and one of his favorite books was “Winning through Intimidation.”  He was emotional and passionate bout many things, such as real estate lending, his dog, saving money, and his family.  I was the youngest of his two daughters, and by the time I was born, my parents’ marriage was already disintegrating.  My mother and sister were extremely close, so Dad would often spend extra time with me.   We bonded over reading the newspaper and taking tandem bike rides.  He moved out when I was 6 years old and remarried when I was 7.   Over the course of the next 10 years, he moved to three different states.  I would spend summers and every other Christmas with him.  I came to live with him and my stepmom, Marsha, for my last three years of high school.  I really got to know him better during those years.  By the time I graduated, Dad had already moved from Ohio to Arkansas and he and Marsha were divorcing, so I came back to California.

We never lived closer than 2000 miles apart for the next 27 years.  We would visit him, and he would visit us, and we always had our Sunday morning chats.  It was the perfect way to stay connected and current with him.  In March of 2004, he called during the week, which was quite abnormal.  The news he shared was urgent and devastating.  He’d just been diagnosed with multiple myeloma, cancer of the blood plasma.  Over the next 11 years, he fought the cancer hard with chemotherapy, stem cell transplants, and frequent discussions with his doctor.  His final year was very hard on both of us.  He fell many times and needed to be placed in skilled nursing care as his body weakened.   My phone calls became more frequent.   My husband and I flew out to visit him in February of 2015.  He still believed than someday, he would be released from skilled nursing care back to his own home and resume living independently.  By the end of our visit, he came to the sad realization that he would never drive or live on his own again.   He chose to receive hospice care shortly after we returned to California.  I called him almost every day after that just to check up on him and hear his voice.  The last time I called, his voice was so weak that I could barely understand him.

Two years ago today, as I was driving across town on a busy day, I received a phone call from a hospice nurse.   My heart sank as she asked me to pull my car into the nearest parking lot.  I asked her in a whisper as I was pulling my Camry into a Starbucks, “Is he dead?” and she confirmed my suspicions.  She reassured me that his passing was a peaceful one, and he was now free of the pain that had plagued him for over a decade.  I never thought that day would come, and when it did, I felt lost.

Two years later, I still feel lost.  Being an orphan sucks, to be gut level honest!  I wish I could have one more phone call or visit with Dad to let him know that I love him and miss him.   My world will never be the same, especially on Sundays at 10….

The Day My World Hit the Cement

This past Monday started out like any regular day, but I don’t think I’ll forget it for the rest of my life.  I woke up and began preparing for a full day when I received a text from my mother-in-law that she would be in town.   We only see her 6 or 7 times a year, so we wanted to make her visit a priority.  My husband had already made arrangements to take the day off work because we had more than the usual activities going on that day.  My daughter’s fiance’s parents were coming to town for lunch, to look at the wedding venue, and to scout out a place for the rehearsal dinner, and we were joining them.  In addition, my husband had a doctor appointment, a lawn care person coming to the house to help us rescue our lawn, and a late afternoon training run for his upcoming marathon.   I had my usual Monday schedule of walking 3.75 miles with the moms from my Mornings for Moms group at 8:30am and meeting with two friends for Bible Study at 10:30am.

It was a beautiful day for a walk through Bidwell Park’s lush foliage.  We had never seen so many butterflies in one morning.  My three friends and I were engaged in conversation about the joys and trials of family life. I tried to stay in the moment, but I was a bit on edge with our late start to our walk and the full afternoon awaiting me.  As we rounded the last corner before heading to our cars, I stumbled over a piece of bark, causing my ankle to give way and hurling me  toward the sidewalk face first.  I didn’t have time to react before hitting the ground with a sickening thud.   I pushed myself up to a sitting position and noticed the scrape on my sunglasses, the concerned looks on my friends’ faces, and the  blood dripping onto the cement from my mouth and chin.  I ran my tongue along my upper jaw and felt two teeth dangling precariously.  The pain throbbed throughout my body.

My friends sprung into motion as Carol called her dentist to see if we could rush me in, Tiffany gave me her baby wipes and prayed for me, and Lori bandaged my largest wounds.  Within minutes, I was in Carol’s Suburban heading to the dentist, stunned by how my day had derailed.   The next hour was spent in a dentist’s chair as the dentist and his assistant fought to save my teeth and stitched up a gaping hole inside my mouth.   My mind raced with thoughts of the effect this would have on my week and life.

I did not join my daughter’s future in-laws on the afternoon outing, but I did visit with my mother-in-law and her best friend.  I expressed my hope to be teaching again by Wednesday morning and have everything back to normal.  I awoke Tuesday with a groan as my body shouted in protest from head to toe.   My reflection frightened me with abrasions littering my face.   I knew it would be a long week.

Two days later, muscle relaxants are my friends.  I have not yet resumed my normal activities and am not sure when I will able to again.  Sleep is uncomfortable.   I have only left the house to go to Prompt Care and the chiropractor.  I still don’t look like myself.   Eating is difficult at best.

We never know what will occur in our lives from day to day.   We can’t emotionally budget for the unexpected, but we have to accept it as it comes.  When hard times come, we have to look for the lessons in them and how much worse it could be.

How was your life changed by unexpected circumstances this week?

 

 

Priorities

It was on my to-do list to complete a blog post yesterday.  I had set aside an hour yesterday afternoon to create and publish.

As I prepared to sit at my computer, I heard the sound of a key in my front door and the creaky hinges as the door opened.  4:08pm.  Strange.  My husband doesn’t get off work for another hour, and my daughter lives an hour and a half away.  I warily called out a greeting and was met with the deep voice of my 24-year old son who has lived in an apartment on the other side of town for the past six years.  What a delightful surprise!  We see him at least once a week at a local restaurant for family dinner, but I couldn’t remember the last time he’d stopped by unannounced in the middle of the day.

He grabbed a Gatorade and sat in the chair across from me in our family room.  The next hour or so  was filled with laughter, conversations, questions, and a quick meal as we caught up on all the happenings in our lives.  He filled me in on his plans, the highs and lows of his week, and how he was feeling about a variety of topics.   Shortly after 5, he looked down at watch and slowly rose, announcing that he needed to get to band practice.

I knew from the second that I heard his voice that the blog post would not happen yesterday because my priority is relationship with my son.  I have nothing tangible to show for the time that I spent with my son yesterday, but I grew more in my knowledge of him and he grew in his trust for me that I would be available to listen when he wanted to talk.  Both of those are priceless commodities in my book.  I never want to get so wrapped up in the completion of tasks on a list that I fail to make time for those I love the most.

What would you consider your top priorities?  What would make you set aside your to-do list?

 

Meal Planning

Dinner time has changed in the Clark house over the course of our 26 year marriage.  It began with painful attempts on my part to cook and a stubborn refusal to accept my efficient husband’s suggestions for improvement.  Then came the years of distracted dining with newborns, infants, and toddlers, as we went from spoon feeding our children to teaching them how to feed themselves.  The longest era of Clark dinners were the busy ones carved out between children’s activities, full of chatter and family-friendly foods.  Slowly, the times when all four of us could eat dinner began to diminish as our children obtained jobs and social lives away from our home.  When both children moved away, I tended to still cook as they were home, leaving many leftovers of foods that weren’t nutritionally best for us.  I definitely needed to change the way we planned for meals in our home

Now, each week, I print out a grocery shopping master checklist I developed on Microsoft Word, containing our favorite ingredients in the order we like to shop for them in the store.  The different headings include:  Produce, Meats, Cheeses, Refrigerated Items, Dairy. Frozen Foods, Canned and Bottled Goods, Dry Goods, Paper Products, Beverages, Breads, Toiletries, Cleaning Supplies, and Hardware.  Then I determine how many dinners we will be eating at home as well as the staples we need for breakfasts and lunches.

During the past two years, I have worked to reduce fat, sugar, and carbohydrate intake while increasing protein for my husband and I.  I have also been diagnosed with dairy and soy food sensitiviies .  My favorite recipe websites are those that contain recipes submitted by other people just trying to put dinner on the table like I am.   Reading reviews on each recipe from others who have attempted the recipe alerts me to any problematic elements of the recipes as well as tweaks I can make to enhance the flavor.  I have also enjoyed those sites that allow searches based on either ingredient, length of preparation time, and health parameters (calories, amount of fat, grams of protein, and more).  I love that all the nutritional values from these websites have already been entered into https://www.myfitnesspal.com/ so I can track my caloric intake and my nutritional value with the click of a button instead of painstakingly thumbing through calorie counting books every single ingredient as I remember my mother doing during many of my growing up years.  My two favorite recipe websites that I use on a weekly basis are https://recipes.sparkpeople.com/ and http://allrecipes.com/ . I then print out the recipes and transfer the ingredients I don’t have to the shopping list.

As my husband and I sample each recipe, we evaluate it and decide whether we like to use this recipe again in the future.  We also talk about changes that we would make.  We have expanded our culinary horizons and discovered many new foods that we can enjoy together.  What are your favorite recipe websites and ways to plan for dinners in your empty nest?

Bon Appetit!

 

 

Celebrating the Empty Nest

Almost everything I have read while anticipating and newly experiencing the empty nest defined it in negative terms. When Googling the empty nest, words surrounding it include syndrome, coping, grief, depression, loneliness, loss of purpose, worry, and stress.  It sounded horrible and something to be avoided at all costs.  I briefly debated between never allowing my children to leave and bracing myself for the onslaught of this dreaded affliction, but I knew I would be stifling my children if I didn’t allow them to experience the independence that they were designed to attain.  The fact that children have the confidence and knowledge to move beyond the four walls of their childhood home is a testament to our success as parents.

I have found the empty nest to be a time of joy, freedom, and celebration.  I am not lying awake, listening for the key in the front door in the wee hours of the morning.  The clutter and laundry only belongs to my husband and I.  When we get together with our children, it is because they want and choose to spend time with us.  We love hearing tales of their new adult lives, and we have new tales to tell them as well. We have the freedom to travel without much forethought about logistics surrounding the children.  We no longer have bathroom wars over anyone taking too long or leaving it in poor condition.  My husband and I enjoy each other and the extra space.

While we will always miss our children and treasure the memories of the years they were under our roof, it’s time to take an optimistic look at a job well done in raising our children to successfully fly away from the nest.

 

Those Dates that Stick Out in your Mind

David grew as tall as his father about the time he obtained his driver’s license.

As soon as I wrote the date this morning, I scratched my head, trying to recollect why this date stuck out to me so much…  I know that March 23 is my paternal grandfather’s birthday, but he passed away when I was four years old, so that didn’t explain the draw.  Then Facebook reminded me that eight years ago on this date, my firstborn obtained his driver’s license.

I remember the grin on his face after his successful exam, as if he could do anything in the world.  I was so proud of him, yet I hoped that it wouldn’t mean that he felt that he outgrew his need for us.

This piece of paper or the date, March 23, 2009, may not seem like that big of a deal to most people, but it represents the beginning of my children’s independence.  David no longer had to ask me for rides in the trusty family van, and he could give his sister rides where she needed to go.  I missed the conversations we would have while driving places, but I confess it was so helpful to have an enthusiastic and capable substitute when I couldn’t drive or didn’t want to.  It was also the beginning of my independence.

Each time that he pulled out of the driveway, I would marvel that my boy was old enough to drive and say a silent prayer for his safety.  Eight years later, I still marvel…and I still pray.

What are the dates that stick out in your mind?

 

Resisting Busyness

Image result for stop the glorification of busy quote

It is the middle of the afternoon, and I am wearing slippers.  I am so tempted to throw on shoes and run errands.  After all, I have Kohl’s cash burning a hole in my wallet and a major sale at Family Christian Stores beckoning me.  But it’s Wednesday.

Wednesday mornings are one of my favorite mornings of the week.  I have the honor of teaching 11 four, five, and six year old children from the Bible book of John for two hours at Bible Study Fellowship.  This morning, we drew,  built with Duplos,  talked about all that had happened since before Spring Break,  flew like jets to and from the bathroom, did fingerplays, heard a story about how Jesus prayed for us just before he went to the cross, had an indoor snowball fight with pantyhose stuffed with cotton, worshiped God, ate snack, shared a few quiet moments before God, played Looby Loo and Mulberry Bush, and skipped.   As my children were waving goodbye, a group of four two year olds came in to play for a few minutes while their loved ones finished cleaning their classrooms.  Needless to say, my body complained the whole way home.

Wednesday evenings are one of my favorite evenings of the week.  We get to eat dinner with our son who lives in town and any extra college students he brings.  We haven’t seen him in two weeks and love laughing and catching up with him and his friends at family dinner.  Then my sweet hubby and I head off to Wednesday evening church.  After we get home at nine, we wind down by watching Jeopardy and Survivor.

In order to live life at full speed for my Wednesday mornings and Wednesday evenings, I must make the decision to keep my Wednesday afternoons quiet.  I texted my friend, Nancy, in the early afternoon to tell her of my temptation to run errands and my resolve not to do it, and she commended me for “resisting busyness.”  I like those words!

Busyness is a status symbol for today’s women.  How often do we answer, “Busy” when asked, “How are you?”  Is busy best?  If we have fifty events on the calendar this week, are we more spiritual or better than those who only who have five or three or one?

My father taught me the acronym for busy when I was a young woman, and I am still learning this for myself and applying it to my own life.

Buried

Under

Satan’s

Yoke

I am so guilty of getting on my own hamster wheel and thinking I will progress if I just run a little faster, but the faster I go, the more I have to keep up with a frantic pace.  This is so unhealthy for my body, mind, and soul!

How do you resist busyness?

Rest for my Soul

Image result for matthew 11:28-29

The above verse flits into my mind often.  I remember feeling so weary and burdened as a mother of infants and receiving comfort for by sleep-deprived self.  I remember clinging to this verse as I walked through the dark valleys of painful circumstances.

Now that the infants have grown and flown and the dark circumstances have passed, I expected that my soul would feel completely rested at all times.  I thought that having reserves of time and energy were the equivalent to rest for my soul.  Not so….

Some days, when many appointments fill my schedule and sad circumstances, my soul feels rested and at peace, and some days that have gaping holes in my datebooks, my soul feels worn out and burdened.

As I read this verse, I see some instructions I must follow in order to find rest for my soul.  First, I must come to Jesus.  That is not my natural bent.  When things are going well or life seems stuffed, I foolishly occupy myself with anything but the pursuit of God.  Second, I must take His yoke upon me.  I confess that my first reaction to this direction was, “God, can’t you see that I’m already busy enough?  Another yoke?  I can’t handle anything else.”  I didn’t realize that God was willing to take the heavy yoke of seeking others’ approval, disappointment over unmet expectations, and self-condemnation and replace them with His loving care.  Finally, I must learn from Him.  Jesus spoke those words over 2000 years ago, knowing that I would desperately need them.  Jesus came to earth to be an example for me of gentleness and humility, two character traits that have always been a struggle for me.  My pride keeps me from admitting my need for God’s help.  Without His help, I become impatient and frustrated, which comes through in all my relationships.  Jesus left us His Word, the Bible, and His Spirit to constantly remind us of those words.  I have so much to learn from Him!

I’m still learning what full rest for my soul looks like, but I’m can now see the importance of coming to Jesus, taking His yoke upon me, and learning from Him.

How would you define rest for your soul?

 

I Don’t Feel Old Enough

Tomorrow I am going to drive myself down to Winters to the childhood home of my daughter’s fiance, Joe, to spend the day with Joe’s mom for her birthday.  We plan to go out to lunch and try on dresses for our children’s wedding coming up in July.  After we finish our fun day together, I will drop her off then drive over to my daughter’s house to spend the night with her.  All of it sounds very wonderful, and I’m really looking forward to it.

Then what could be the problem?

Although my outward appearance proves otherwise, inside I barely feel old enough to be married, let alone old enough to have a daughter getting married.  I’m not one of those women who normally does the whole “lunch and shopping” kind of day, yet I know that this will bring Joe’s mom and I closer together and help us get ready for this wedding.  I am still surprised I am considered grown up enough to be out on my own, yet my 23-year old daughter is living in a different town, successfully navigating her way through her first year of teaching.  I still feel so young and uncertain inside, much like a young teenager.

But in a few short months, I will be celebrating my 50th birthday!  The wrinkles congregating in the corners of my eyes and my cracking knees testify to this fact.

I’m wondering when I will ever feel fully grown up in my heart of hearts.  When will I have the confidence to believe that I am really an adult?

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