I know I think too much. Obviously, since I am someone who thinks so much I must know that already, right?
I make everything about something. Instead of just "being".
I need to learn more from him.
And from her.
They don't think too much. Of course, they are young and learning, so they do think--but its about the logical things. How to put clothes on, how to eat well with silverware, and how to be a good listener (okay...sometimes).
Young minds generally don't question much. They don't question where their next meal is coming from or if they will have a blanket to sleep with at night.
Why is that? Because they have faith. Faith in their parents; that we will provide them everything that they need.
I need to spend a bit more time following their example. I have a Father who is going to provide everything I need, as long as I believe in Him and his power.
Instead of taking so much time thinking about how I am going to live or how I'm going to change, I need to take the leap and make the change. Live the life I've imagined. And have faith that there is Someone looking out for me. Who is putting each rung of the ladder where it is supposed to be, at the time it is supposed to be there.
Just last Thursday I wrote this about 'trying'. And then this weekend happened.
And that whole idea went in the rubbish bin.
"I have missed out on a lot of freedom because of my fear of rejection. We may call it "people pleasing," but it is entirely self-serving because it is really all about keeping myself comfortable. Boiled down, it could be more accurately called, "me pleasing". (Emily Freeman, Grace for the Good Girl Chapter 8)
And I was going to write a little bitty blog post about not having blogging 'mojo' right now, so I'd be taking a break. But that isn't true. That'd be me fearing what ya'll would think about what I am writing here today.
So this is what is happening...
* *
I've been reading and hearing a lot recently about being vulnerable. About taking off masks.
I haven't finished Emily Freeman's Grace for the Good Girl: Letting go of the Try-Hard Life yet, and for some reason, I'm not attacking it {even though I LOVE it}. Probably because I feel like I could have written it. Seriously. I've highlighted about half of what I've read already. And I'm guessing that means there is going to be something very revealing for me, possibly life changing, that I'm going to read. And that makes me just a bit nervous.
Got me right at the core. It's about 20 minutes long, but definitely worth a watch; and you can be quite sure the next book I read {which I hear is also life changing} will be her Daring Greatly.
* *
So I keep finding distractions from finishing Grace for the Good Girl. And honestly, right now? It's easy. Stay tuned for just a sec.
This is where I raise the question: When does showing your vulnerability and taking off the masks of being a good girl or being 'fine' just change into plain 'ole complaining and whining?
My husband is out of town. Both of my kids are sick. One of them, at least yesterday, was the puking kind. We don't have a car here so if I had to figure out how to go to the doctor {which since I'm pretty sure they both just have a good 'ole cold/flu combo I won't} it would probably have to be by taxi, because I haven't really made any friends close enough here that I feel like I could call to drive us. Maybe they could watch one of the kids while I took the other to the doctor. BUT the kids are sick-and all of my friends have kids, so I can't really ask them to watch my sick kids and risk getting their kids sick. And then when one is puking? The other is in the bathroom and needs my help.
And I just wish my mom, or my mother- or father-in-law or brother and sister-in-law where here to help "relieve" me.
And wah, wah, wah....I think you get the idea. And I could go on, and on, and on. Trust me on that one.
* *
So I guess I need to keep reading these books. Maybe at some point they will tell me how to be vulnerable without complaining?
* *
Or how to just let myself be vulnerable without feeling like I'm a doofus.
Because I live in Scotland. And my husband just has to travel now and then {not be away for months, years or a lifetime}. And about 350 days a year {my son DOES go to school...sicknesses come in the house} I have two of the healthiest, cutest, smartest kids in the world.
Why the heck should I even get to be vulnerable {not 'fine'}? Why do I get to complain? I shouldn't be allowed.
* *
Okay, so I'm thinking the definitions of vulnerable vs. complaining are fundamentally different. But when I think of putting myself out there? It isn't the positive stuff I'm afraid of putting out there; I feel pretty comfortable with doing that.
It's the deep down feelings...the sadness, the frustrations, the anxiety, the feelings of inadequacy...that's what makes me vulnerable. And that's when I come to the question of where being vulnerable ends and complaining begins.
***
And now I've decided its okay to not be devouring Emily's book, because I'm joining in over at Wild & Precious for an online book club of sorts, and this week the link up is about chapters 9 & 10, and I'm on chapter 11. Perfect timing.
And on Thursday, I'll be joining over at Royal Daughter Designs for Desire to Inspire. Although I'm not sure how inspiring this post is. But, its not a 'fluff' post, that's for sure.
The other night, my son sat down in his room at bedtime and told J#1 and I that he (my son) was going to read us a story. And he did. {well, he didn't read it, but he told us the story}
Last Wednesday night, my son said "I wuv you mama" in reply to me when I told him that I love him...and he's been doing it ever since.
If you know me in real life, you know how big of deal these two things are. And daily, he's saying new words, repeating everything {uh oh} and communicating more.
Up until recently, I was plagued by comparing. Comparing him other kids his age. Reading statuses on Facebook and wondering why HE wasn't telling us the funny stories other kids were. I was doing that comparing even though he was jumping, running and being altogether fun and goofy without words.
I've read blog posts by other moms who already had their kids in speech
and language therapy to help them talk at J#3's age or even younger. I
wondered what we should be doing.
I took him to speech and language therapy here in Scotland, and she told me that he was too young for them to work with one on one, and that it was likely he'd develop more communication very soon, likely when he started nursery school. That was last Spring.
He went to nursery school.
And his communication? It exploded.
There are reasons I shouldn't have been comparing in the first place.
As a wee one, I didn't talk until I was three.
We spent a year in a foreign-speaking country. While the speech
therapist said that didn't have an impact, in my head? Spending a year
where people talk to you in words you've never ever heard before has to have an affect. Comparison doesn't solve anything.
It's not up to us. It's up to Him.
I did not design the human mind to figure out the future. That is beyond your capability. I crafted your mind for continual communication with Me. Bring Me all our needs, your hopes and fears. Commit everything into My care. Turn from the path of planning to the path of Peace. {Jesus Calling, September 17}
I am SO, so grateful to know that He has it covered.
I'm grateful for J#3 having become a fountain of words. I appreciate his {sometimes endless} babbling more because of the time I waited for it.
I'm grateful that I've had this experience so I can ease other mother's similar fears, and be able to tell them "I've been there".
Springtime is approaching. I can feel it. I can almost smell it. We've had a few days where the sun has been shining big and bright (well today, it just started in the afternoon, but still...).
And we got out and enjoyed it. When it is nearly 50* in February and you have a park a block from your house? There shouldn't be any excuses.
Sun is good for us. Obviously.
And living in Scotland, where they evidently suggest everyone {not just infants} take Vitamin D supplements? It is a commodity.
Around these parts, we are all taking new steps...
Tentative steps. A little girl taking her first steps outside, changing terrains, holding herself up and moving on.
And the big girl {me}. Coming to the realization that my life is my job right now. And jobs? I take those seriously. So even though I don't love being responsible for all of our housecleaning, all of our cooking and all of our planning...I'm going to love it.
Because it means I get to watch those tentative steps. I get to make life easier for my husband, my #1.
I get to see this sister with her brother on a see-saw for the first time. If I love ALL of it, I get to love life.
Right here. And now. How can I not be grateful for that?
Today was one of those days I've spent the entire day pondering "trust". How do I write about it? What do I write in five minutes about the word trust?
I considered writing about the trust I share with friends {lucky}, the trust I have in my husband {even more lucky...and loved}, the trust in God {of course}. So many people that I share trust with.
But I'm started out the day crabby. You know how it is, right? So the mood to write anything wasn't there.
Then...the afternoon and evening came. My husband returned from his work trip. I was no longer alone with the kiddos. The mood started to lift.
It happened a few other times today. But by the time Daddy got home, her first move to get somewhere was to get up and walk.
Awesome.
And that is when I am reminded that it isn't just people that we need to trust. We need to trust in the fact that there are always "good times". There are always exciting, thrilling and memorable moments.
And those far exceed the bad ones. Because those are the ones we will remember.
We might remember a time of sadness, depression, or despair.
But the moments that will overtake those? That will shine forever in our minds, our photos, our scrapbooks?
Those will be the good times. I trust in that.
STOP
Interested in writing for five minutes? No editing, just writing. Visit The Gypsy Mama by clicking on that button down there, and while you are at it take a sec to read about how others are trusting today.
A little over a year ago, we were a small family of three living in the Netherlands.
Content. But not yet complete.
And then she joined us.
Now we are a family of four, living in Scotland. And we are complete AND content.
* * *
A little over a year ago, I had a son. Full of spirit, energy and well...boyness.
And then she joined us.
And I developed a fondness for pink and hair bows.
* * *
A little over a year ago, on February 1, 2011, I thought my life would change forever.
And then she joined us.
And my life DID change forever. She has touched my heart in a way no one has before. I never thought I'd have a bond like the one I feel with her. I want all the best for her in her life. I want all of her hopes and dreams to come true.
She fills our lives with smiles, belly laughs, giggles, finger points {that's one of her trademark greetings}, blown kisses and that special open mouth kiss {you know the one, right?} too. She's loves to "dance" and wrestle with her brother.
She is cruising and taking a few steps here and there. Saying hi, mama, and dada. Eating just about anything we set in front of her.
Filling our hearts with more love every day.
* * *
A little over a year ago we had only celebrated one FIRST birthday.
And then she joined us.
And now we have celebrated two first birthdays.
* * *
We extended her celebration, so it lasted about four days. And it will last even longer with presents from the U.S. finding their way to Scotland. And that is the way it should be, right? Especially for a first {and golden} birthday.
And now I have another thing to add to my bucket list. Learn how to make pink frosting. Mine turned out orange. Hmph.
