A Day in the Life Archives - Page 11 of 12

February 28, 2013 by Karin Leave a Comment

Why Don’t You Play More?

His sky blue eyes peered up at me.

Mama, why don’t you play?

I looked up from my very important I-don’t-even-remember-what.

Play what, sweetie?

He slightly shrugged while the blond wisps of hair sheltered his puzzled expression.

You know, games.

Why don’t you play more?

Deep breath. My hand took his small chin and focused on this young precious son of mine.

I don’t know.

I should play more.

Could-a, would-a, should-a.

No good reason. Endless unimportant reasons.

Oh, I know why. I don’t play more so I can gather more stuff, arrange all the stuff, clean all the stuff, organize all the stuff, and do it all again the next day.

Do you ever feel like you spend your time chasing your tail? Then at the end of the day, you are mighty proud that you caught your tail for just a second, realized that you were in an impossible position ~ holding your tail, so you let go, and started chasing it all over again.

Isn’t this the way it is with the endless chores and to-dos? The must-dos and gotta-gos.

All the while, the little ones you love to the end of time are wondering why you don’t just chill out and play.

It is definitely easier said than done. We, after all, must care for, feed, wash, clothe, clean, teach, and on and on and on.

But, maybe, just a little more time should be made to play. Just play.

It’s something that I have struggled and wrestled with for over a decade of motherhood.

It’s easy to say,

Forget the dishes and spend time with your child.

Until the dishes begin to spill out of the sink onto the floor. Never mind all the other tasks, and chores, and places to go.

But… maybe… it’s not as complicated as it seems.

There is a time for everything. Everything important.

I read a study that stated that children only need 15 minutes of devoted one-on-one time per day.

15 minutes.

That’s it.

Some things just are more important than other things.

I dread the day I have a clean house… and silent rooms.

So, today… I will play.

Forget the mess. For just one day.

Embrace the little arms, pull out the toys, add to the mess… just play.

P retend you are that little kid again. It’s one of the gifts of motherhood. To be little again.
L eave the mess alone. It will be there tomorrow. We are here today.
A ppreciate the view in front of you. It doesn’t have to be perfect to be perfectly beautiful.
Y es. You can do this for one day. It is one day. One day is a long time for a kid… remember?

Psalm 33:3

Sing to him a new song; play skillfully, and shout for joy.

February 1, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

Just When We Think We Are Good To Go

Who knew it would hurt so much?

I mean it’s been almost a year and I feel like a thick scab has been ripped from an unsuspecting wound.

Who knew grief would haunt you when you least expect it?

I didn’t know. I thought I was good to go.

I don’t think so much about her suffering. I think more about the days before the word cancer ever entered our conversations. I think about who she was. Not this victim who needed treatments, radiation, chemotherapy, meals for her family, get well cards, and wigs. I think about her radiance before a vicious disease tried to claim her.

She gave a speech once. She knew what her prognosis was at this time. She said that she was a survivor. She was surviving the attack of the vicious enemy. She would survive the attack… even when it took her last breath.

I remember the priest at her funeral telling us that she wanted answers for the suffering.

Don’t we all want answers for the suffering?

Don’t we all want to throttle the suffering until it can no longer take one more victim?

The priest spoke words I will never forget. He told her that Jesus’ story is about the suffering. His very purpose was to come here, to claim us, through His suffering. The culmination of His earthly story, the story that rattles us and tears the human skin from our souls, is His story of suffering.

She walked this suffering, bearing her cross. She was gracious, and beautiful, and loving, and kind. Her humor split my sides. She did not understand her suffering, but she bore it.

Face to face with death, how does a soul bear it?

I thought I had made it through. The memory of birthdays, Christmas cards, texts, phone calls. It’s been almost a year. I expected the anniversary of her home-going to hit. The same day as my little one’s birthday. My plan… focus on the birth. The birth of my baby. My friend’s birth into perfection.

I didn’t think the wound would ooze tonight.

But, here it is. Bleeding. All over a screen.

Life is good. Life goes on. She would want that. Then, this shot of pain… right through the heart.

Checking old text messages. Listening to old voicemail. Just her voice… one more time.

Grace like rain. The wound torn open to wash clean again with grace. Just when I think I’m good to go. He reminds me of grace.

We are not good to go here. We are far from good. We are covered in grace. Just like rain.

She would tell me this.

It will always be ok.

All because of His grace.

This grace raining over me. Me raining all over this keyboard. His grace all over… all of it.

This reign of grace.

There will be no more suffering… no more victims… all because of grace.

Romans 5:21

so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

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January 18, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

What Are You Worth?

I am worth a load of something today.

Productive, productive, productive.

I’m a (recovering) people pleaser. I don’t particularly love that about myself.

Today, I pleased a whole mess of people. Most of them are under the age of 11. Nonetheless, they were pleased.

School work taught, play-time allowed ~ plenty of play-time, pies baked, floors swept, carpets vacuumed, laundry folded, lightbulbs changed, bottles filled ~ and re-filled, diapers changed, breakfast cooked, grilled cheese grilled, hotdogs broiled, dinner prepared, kitchen cleaned, children bathed… Mary Poppins ain’t got nothin’ on me today.

Productive super mom. (no such thing)

I am worth innumerable gifts, diamonds, vacations… you name it. I am worth it… today.

What about last November? I was flat on my back after surgery for a week, followed by pain for a month.

What about February two years ago? Again, flat on my back for two weeks with the flu and the most horrific ear infection… while pregnant.

What about all the other times I didn’t or couldn’t prove my worth?

People pleasing. A tough and foolish undertaking.

I spent much of my life, and honestly still do, trying to please people. We please our friends, our kids, our spouses, our parents, our bosses, our co-workers… please, please, please. PLEASE STOP!

So, my self-worth is defined by what I do for others. What about when I can do nothing?

Does that make me worthless?

Or maybe just a little bit less valuable?

All this doing, doing, doing.

You know what my kids like?

My little ones like it when I am just with them (and giving them popcorn and drinks…).

My girlfriends like it when we just hang out. My warrior just wants to spend some time… with me.

Sure, there are plenty of things, things, things to be done. The things never stop. Never. But, we will.

So, how do you define your worth?

Our worth has nothing to do with what we do, or whom we do it for.

Our worth doesn’t even come from what we do for God. He doesn’t need us to do for Him.

Our worth is one thing. Our worth is defined by only one… only One.

Not what we do, not who we are… but,

Whose we are.

We are His.

What am I worth? What are you worth?

Price paid.

Priceless.

Luke 12: 6-7

Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

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January 16, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

When You Don’t Like Someone

I didn’t like her when I met her.

I don’t even like to say that. It seems so, well, mean. I suppose a better word would be judgmental.

I did think she was pretty, even cool looking. Like someone I could hang out with. Not that I perceive myself that way… I just thought she appeared fairly laid back. I am fairly laid back. My dad has even joked that I am so laid back I may fall over. But… that was before the six pack. Is anyone ever relaxed again after kids enter the picture? Compared to others, we may be relaxed. Compared to our former selves, well, completely relaxed is a notion I see in the rearview. There are six little ones carrying pieces of my heart. Who can relax when a heart is spread wide and worn on the sleeve?

Comparison. It can inflate the ego… falsely. It can deflate a soul… foolishly.

Then, she told me about herself.

And she told me about herself.

And I learned just a bit more about herself… herself… herself.

Got it. She’s great. She knows it. I am definitely not cool enough to hang out with her.

So, I decided. I didn’t like her.

I tried for just a little while longer to like her. Honestly, I barely tried, and not for very long.

After all, if she liked herself so much, she probably didn’t need me to like her, too.

So, that was it. I decided that she was not for me. I really did not know her, but I am a good judge of character, and I knew she was a little too full of herself. Not for me.

Compared. Judged. Stamped with a big, fat

No.

Little did I know.

Here I was teaching my own young ones

accept, don’t judge, don’t compare

you just don’t know the whole story

Did I practice what I preached?

Not this time.

And, then, God.

He always shows up to show me where I am wrong, wrong, wrong.

And I am… grateful.

He, and she, caught me off guard one day. One day, she showed up, just to help, just to serve. She wanted nothing in return.

Oh.

The chilled corner of this heart chipped… and began to melt.

Could I be wrong?

Could it really be that there was something about her… that threatened me?

Made me feel… not quite good enough?

Did I compare myself… to her?

Did I fall short… in my own eyes.

That human response we want to outgrow when we outgrow our training bras… there it was.

Jealousy.

She drove away; I hung my head in shame.

I’m sorry, God.

I’d like to dress it up and eloquently name the feeling, but I just felt like a… jerk.

I’m not a fan of the moments that He points out the worst in me. That whole discipline thing.

Here it is. That chipped and chilled corner of this heart… warmed.

I actually liked her. In fact, I appreciated her. Even more, I saw this woman with her own insecurities. She carried an imaginary, giant cut-out of her “perfect” self to hide behind… to hide her own feelings. The I’m-not-good-enough-so-I’m-gonna-talk-myself-up method.

Just one of many methods we use to defend, to measure up, to fit in.

We compare ourselves, and we miss the opportunity.

We miss the chance to see each other, and ourselves, as we are.

He has perfectly equipped me to be me; He has perfectly equipped you to be you.

He is perfectly able to (painfully) press out our imperfections (plenty of those here).

I wonder, when I fall short, if maybe it’s because I’m trying to be like someone else?

Trying to be like someone else, and missing the chance to be a better… me.

Lesson learned… again.

Romans 14:13

Therefore let us stop passing judgement on one another. Instead, make up your mind not to put any stumbling block or obstacle in your brother’s way.

January 10, 2013 by Karin 6 Comments

One Good New Year Goal

It’s only 9 days into the new year.

The momentum of a turning calendar page rushes us into the new.

New goals, new ideas, new resolutions. Yes, new me.

This fire set and titled “I’m-finally-gonna-get-it-right.”

Only 9 days into the new year… and the fire is doused with reality.

All the lofty goals for time management, clutter reduction, quality kid time, dedicated husband moments… all the goals set in motion on day 1… have popped and fizzled. An ember remains.

Where did the fire go?

I was determined.

What happened?

Hanging on to the frayed ends of a the New-Year-Goal rope… it slips from the hand. Fingers left burning with the memory of the plan.

Is that it?

The big fail?

One bad day, bad moment… and that’s it?

We were running late. This is not necessarily unusual for mama and a sixpack. We were running late.

Then, the sight before me zoomed perspective.

Same old banter, same old breakfast, same old hurry up… hurry up… hurry up.

The ember, this ember of goals planned and unaccomplished… the ember ~ sparked.

This is where the goal is born. Not in dreams of perfect organization, perfect scheduling, perfect dates, perfect moments. The goal lives right here in the mess of it all. The goal to stop. Breathe. Enjoy. Live.

I. Did. Not. Yell. Now, I’m sure there are those who never raise a voice in the madness of a morning kitchen (or claim not to). For many of us, the words repeated in the hustle of a household… and repeated… and repeated, these words take on a life and drain every drop of goodness. These words take on a volume of their own, hastily followed by scowls, furrowed brows (we know these mama-lines etched between the eyes)… and finally, tears. The yelling begets… more yelling. Frustrating. Pointless. Crushing.

Today. Today was different. I did not yell. I knew the softening of my demeanor would calm the masses… and make us late.

So what?

So, we would be late.

Would this matter in 10 minutes? 10 hours? 10 years?

Nope.

Would my mama fury bring peace, teach love, enable joy?

Not so much.

What if the yelling stopped? What if the moment was just plain… lived?

We were late. The kids laughed. My heart rate slowed.

The joy was born.

The dear tutor looked up from the young faces peering into hers. Her eyes smiled at mine.

Oh, we are so happy to see you all are not sick. We’re glad you made it.

I grinned, trying to keep the disruption to a minimum.

I’m sorry we’re late. I decided not to yell today.

Wisdom-soaked eyes glistened at me from this mama soul with children’s children.

Good choice.

There it is.

The goal.

Yes, the organization, time-management, quality-togetherness goals are good. They are good, valid, honorable goals. There is one that trumps any of these giant leaps. One goal.

Soak it in. Let it be. Live it now. Stop yelling (yes, I know, much self-grace required).

Stop yelling.

Let the goals begin.

Proverbs 14:29

A patient man has great understanding, but a quick-tempered man displays folly.

Why Don’t You Play More?

Just When We Think We Are Good To Go

What Are You Worth?

When You Don’t Like Someone

One Good New Year Goal

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