the heart wants what it wants

this stuff has been swirling around in my head for a week or two, working itself out in my heart as the Holy Spirit has been whispering, prodding, and convicting…

 “the heart wants what it wants.”

 i was listening to “adult radio” the other day when my son wasn’t in the car (our local top 40 station), singing along to these lyrics, when the wheels in my brain started turning. my first thought was that i should probably change the station…and my second thought was that i agreed with selena…the heart does want what it wants. our hearts are sinful and wicked, concerned only with ourselves, and we want what we want when we want it. but while the song was talking about this from a love/romance/sexuality perspective, i saw it differently.

we are created in the image of Christ, designed and built to desire relationship with and provide worship to Him. ultimately, that’s what our hearts want. it’s what they were created to want. sin doesn’t change that fact. our hearts crave communion with our Creator, and we search for it vigorously. we just don’t look in the right places. we use earthly relationships, jobs, hobbies, money, sex, and a multitude of other things to try to satiate the ache that our hearts cry out with. we are hungry for more of our Savior, thirsty for living water. but we fill our minds, our hearts, our homes with the things of the world that cannot satisfy us. and so, our hearts want. (see Psalm 42:2, 63:1, and 143:6…even king david’s heart thirsted for more.)

 as Christians, we guard against the sinful desires of our hearts. we spend time reading God’s word, we spend time talking with Him in prayer, we practice living in ways that are pleasing to Him. and yet, we cannot fully rid ourselves of the sin in our hearts. we just can’t. it’s not that these efforts are fruitless or hopeless…drawing nearer to the Lord always brings blessing. even a little bit of Christ is better than all this world has to offer…and our hearts will always seek Him, or something else in place of Him.

i’ve seen this in my own life lately… my husband and i have been working on some things in our relationship, weeding out some issues, learning to love each other better. i’ve never been more aware of my selfish heart than during these conversations with him. even in my desire to be less selfish, to be a more godly wife, i see flesh, self, and stubbornness. another song has been playing in my head on repeat…

”burn away” by meredith andrews…
“burn away everything that breaks Your heart, everything that is not love. purify my every thought. take away everything that comes between us, everything that is untrue. Jesus make me more like you.”

 even as i’ve been singing this, i’ve wondered if i could really honestly pray these lyrics. do i really want to be rid of everything that breaks God’s heart? what would that look like? would there be anything left of me if all of that was gone? and the Lord has answered with a resounding “then you would look like ME!” and that thought is like a rush of overwhelming, life-giving, crashing on the shores of my heart water. i’m not sure that there’s anything in me that would be left if everything that comes between me and Jesus were gone. and i know that that’s where i want to be. as much as i hold onto my pride, whatever i think i deserve…none of it matters. because my heart cries out for more Jesus. i long to love my husband, my family, my friends, my church, the way that He loves them. if He will only continue to break and tear and consume and burn away at my heart…not to stop wanting what it wants, but to seek hard for what it really wants.

start with me

this is not a "new year's resolution" post. let's just get that out of the way now. i'm not really into those. mostly because i don't ever stick to any of them (like most of you, i'm guessing), and i really hate not doing something that i say i'm going to do. so i just don't make them. but i am working on some things, or rather, God is. again.

 my heart needs constant re-breaking, re-shaping... i'm so thankful for a God who keeps at it, who sticks with me, who fulfills His promises. He's been at it for a while, now, working through some friends and family to help us love each other better, parent better, and get really honest about the state of our hearts. particularly for me, it's uncovered some ugliness i'd rather not really admit to. i've spent a lot of time asking the Lord to make me aware of the state of my heart, to show me where i'm not honoring Him and to give me the strength to deal with what needs to be different. twice in the last week, as He often does, He has placed some specific songs in my ears to help drive home some of the finer points.

the first came earlier in the week. i was thinking about how being a stay-at-home mom is such a blessing. how hopefully my son will be better in the long-term because of the time we spend together now. of how much i enjoy being at home with him. how good it is for my soul. and i've always been somewhat staggered at how great of a responsibility that entails. i'm responsible for his behavior, his emotional health, his safety, and most importantly, teaching him about our Jesus. it's a lot that sometimes overwhelms me. and then i heard "start with me" by meredith andrews, and the chorus says: my life is an empty cup. fill it up! fill it up! i wanna hear every rescued heart cry "You're enough! You're enough!" break what needs breaking until You're all we see. and start with me. start with me. and the Holy Spirit began speaking to me...staying at home isn't just about making and molding brooks. it's about making and molding me. teaching me to give Him my entire day, the good moments and the mundane. showing me how to trust when i don't have the answers. honoring Him with my time, my effots. praising Him for all the little blessings that come each day. i can't impact my child's life for Christ if my own heart isn't completely surrendered to Him...

and so my prayer began to "start with me", Lord. i even wrote it on my chalkboard. and then yesterday, during worship, i heard myself singing "my heart will sing no other name...Jesus, Jesus". and again the Holy Spirit pricked my heart, saying "well? does it?" i had to stop for a moment, because the truth is that my heart sings a lot of things. it sings of my husband and son a lot of the time. sometimes my friends and other family. it sings of my church. but a lot of the time it just sings of me. a flat, selfish, out-of-tune note that i try to make sound ok... when my heart was created to sing only of Jesus. everything i do at home, at church, anywhere, should sing of Jesus. as a mother, as a wife, as a friend, a daughter... my call is to be broken before the Lord and to set my own strong will aside for the will and plan of Christ.

i don't have any easy answers to making this happen, but i pray that my house, my family, my heart will glorify the Father, that we will be a picture of His grace, His love, and the miraculous change that only He can bring about. start with me, God. tune my heart to sing Your praise. bind this far-wandering heart to You. break what needs breaking until You are all that i see. and start with me.

wisten!

i don't know how people who work full-time and still function as mothers do it. i don't know how people with more than one little person do it. i don't know how single parents do it. i have it easy...and i can barely do it!

i'm amazed at how "busy" i am...with nowhere i have to be, nothing i have to do...still, i am busy. my little one wakes up and asks "where are we going today, mommy?", and i cringe a little bit inside. granted, we're doing fun things, important things. things like going to see grandparents and great-grandparents. helping at church. visiting friends. going to the playground. and don't forget about the occasional not-fun grocery shopping, doctor's appointments, etc. seriously...how do other people do all of this?

i'm not complaining. i'm just saying that it's tricky to be a parent. there's a lot to juggle. some days i get into bed and i think, "yes! i did ok today!". and other days i pray, "Lord, may today not have caused too much permanent damage..." I think everybody does the best they can do, and sometimes that's good enough, and sometimes it isn't.

but it takes a village. like, for real.  a village.

my village is my husband and family, my friends, my church family and MOPs group... i don't know what i would do without any of them. from babysitting duties to advice, from an ear to vent to and arms to hug...they do it all. recently, we started our third attempt at potty training our 2 1/2 year old (he will be 3 in december). the first two attempts were, shall we say...terrible. they involved a lot of pee on my floor, a lot of frustration on my part, and a whole bunch of words in my head that i can't say here. with brooks showing multiple signs of "being ready", i did the only thing i had left: i asked for help. it's not that i don't like asking for help...truly...i just was raised to try to do it myself first. and sometimes, that's painful. this time, my sister-in-law graciously gave me all the wisdom of having done this three times already (with a fourth soon-to-come). she kindly showed me that i was doing the opposite of what worked for her (although i was doing what "all the books" told me to do), and encouraged me to give this new way a try.

i won't lie and say it was easy. but it sure as heck was easier and exponentially more successful than my previous attempts. we are on day three today of no diapers (can i get a "whoop whoop!!"), and there have been some ups and downs, and a little more pee in the floor, but nothing like previously. i'm amazed at how much of this process was simply a learning process for ME! getting to know my child better, watching for his cues and signals, and definitely embracing and changing things about my own reactions and expectations. i joked on instagram that it should be called patience training instead of potty training, but in all reality, that's what it's been for me. i am not, by nature, a patient person. and this whole journey of parenthood...that's a huge part of what it's about. learning to be patient. learning to be present. learning to be less busy. while my boy sat on the potty, i got to watch him turn his hands into airplanes, listen to him make up silly songs, and we've had a lot of time to just sit and read and talk. i've had hours (no exaggeration) to stare at his long, beautiful eyelashes, wipe his tears, and cheer him on as he says "wisten (listen) mommy! pee-pee! wisten!" we've had large amounts of sugar, been through a lot of laundry and wet wipes, and i can't believe how much differently i feel about him, about parenting, and about our time together as compared to three days ago. many times over the last few days, i have wished for help, for chocolate, for wine...but there's something to be said for going through a battle together. just he and i. well...he and i and aunt tida's genius advice...

we did it, little sugarbear. we made it. we'll keep learning together, i know. be patient with me, as i am learning to be with myself. you are my gift, my miracle. and thank God you're at least halfway potty trained.

a sad tale

i'm getting old. seriously.

allow me to present my case.

in the last two days i have done/said/thought multiple things that i feel typically reside w/ the elderly population. it started yesterday with a not-at-all graceful fall. and by fall, i mean that i ended up in the splits. i haven't done the splits in 23 years. and now i have a purple kneecap and a sore toe. i may have broken a hip.

start watching for good deals on wheelchairs for me on craigslist...

today i remarked that a teenager's dress was "way too short". i did love her shoes, but then remembered that i had chosen comfortable, sensible footwear for the day. i actually tried on a cuter pair with my outfit. and then consciously chose the ones that wouldn't cause me to limp at the end of the day.

get my tapioca pudding ready...

i was hungry for dinner at 4:30pm. this never happens. unless you're old, of course. which i am. i ate casseroles at a baptist church at 4:30pm. i got home at 7 and wanted to go to bed. but i have heartburn, so instead i watched a piano concert on PBS. and i liked it.

someone buy me a life-alert bracelet...

what is happening to me?! i've always been a little older in spirit than other people my age...i say i'm an "old soul". i love antiques. i read books printed on paper. i send snail mail. i own "vintage" clothing. i shop at goodwill.

so there you have it, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. i completely skipped middle age. 35 is the new elderly.

new things

so we know that our kid loves dirt. he's all boy, for sure. dirt, trucks, cars, trains, construction vehicles, and more dirt. he is most happy playing with some combination of those things. but it's fun watching these interests evolve, watching him learn, hearing him speak more articulately about them, discovering new things.

today was beautiful, so out we went. the box of dirt is a favorite hang-out, and i obliged him once more. i can't resist those big brown eyes. but today, we discovered some new fun...dandelions and worms! 

dandelions and dirt were eaten...he survived. he laughed. he said dirt is "yucky" (thankfully..). the dandelions in his mouth were especially hilarious. he was not a fan but was totally fascinated. and then we found the worm.... after the dirt and dandelions, my first instinct was to say "don't eat it!". he obeyed, fortunately, and then we got to talk about it being an animal, why God made worms (because they help the garden? right?), how we have to be gentle with them. then i found myself offering to pick it up for him (what?! that unconditional love kicked in, i suppose. i just wanted to see him smile!). he held it in his hand for a few seconds and then quickly shook it off. we watched it wriggle for a little bit, covered it back up with dirt, and started digging for more.

it was such a fun little snippet of time. watching his amazement. his wonder. i will do anything to make him happy. even pick up worms.

reminders

i'm making dinner, looking out our kitchen window. i see our raised beds that i'm hoping will be full of vegetables later this year. one already has shoots showing of snap peas, lettuce, and spinach. the other is full of dirt, waiting for me to plant some seeds.

my little one has been in that raised bed today, the one that's full of cow manure and dirt. i see his blue bucket with the yellow snap-on handle. his faded red spade. the red, yellow-handled shovel. the yellow dump truck with the big wheels. the evidence of the fun he had today is all over my floors. hard little brown clumps of pure joy, shaken out in bits and pieces from his shoes, his pants.

as i look at the toys, i smile. as i sweep, i breathe a thousand thank-you's. i hear glass break in his little "kitchen", a little jar he was using to make me "coffee" now in pieces; i sweep some more. ann voskamp speaks of voicing even the smallest of joys. dirt on a floor that says my child experienced gladness today. laundry piled up that tells of one more day i got to spend with my family. dishes that need to be done, proof that we are fed and are not hungry today.

my husband asks if i want him to go get the toys outside and bring them in. i tell him no. i like my reminders.

midnight

"let's go get him", he used to say. when brooks was tiny. when everything was new. we would go get him in the middle of the night, just to hold him and watch him sleep. he was so little, he wouldn't even wake up. we hadn't done it in so long.

"let's go get him", he said last night. "absolutely not", i said. and then, "oh yes, let's" as my better judgment left in favor of enjoying the important moments. i scooped him up, thomas blanket and all. as i carried him to our bed, he mumbled "my bed....want my bed." i smiled as he settled down between us on our pillows. his little mouth that used to make the tiny "o", his arms askew. he's bigger now, but still the same in many ways. we watched him for a few minutes, breathed our prayers of thankfulness.

as i put him back in his bed, he asked for a song. twinkle, twinkle. i sang. he slept. thomas kept him warm. i kissed his warm cheek, smelled his brooks smell, nuzzled my face in his hair. "night, night mommy." night, night brooks. momma loves you.