You know how in certain seasons of life it seems like everyone is getting engaged (except you)? And then getting married? and then having their first kid? their second? their third?

Dale often told me when I was beginning to want a wee one that most his friends were on their third baby.  We tried to relate with our three corgis.  Didn’t work very well.

The last few years it seems that while all Dale’s friends have established family lives, my friends were all getting pregnant. This month alone I know of four good friends who are about to give birth (Shout out to my friend, Becca, who managed to have her baby Carter on 10.10.10!).

Juggling bags, mail and Finn on the way to the house. This is before Dale told me this stroller isn't really designed to hold this much weight on the handle. I had to agree because Finn nearly tipped backwards after this picture.

For my peer group, it’s baby time. It’s sort of cozy, like a warm coverlet, a common experience to snuggle down into because it seems I’m doing something other people are doing, too.

So for this golden moment, I want to zoom in on motherhood, to note what motherhood has done to change me (Shout out to Melissa Welch for asking me to think on this!). I’m going to add several things motherhood has not changed about me, too, as a hip-hip-hooray for personal identity THROUGH childbearing years (if you’re curious about this and want to read a wonderful God-fearing book on the subject check out Caryn Rivandeniera’s Mama’s Got a Fake I.D. I highly recommend!).  I hope this will put some shiny smiles on those of you who do not or cannot or will not have children.  There is more to us than the children we bear.

Motherhood has Changed Me, no doubt about it.

1. I know why “juggle” is so commonly used by parents.  I leave the house amazed that my little arms can hold that many loops of that many bags, AND a 25 lb baby in car seat for the lovely, but meandering (why did we make it so meandering?)
   

   Notice Lady Jane is on the newly designed meandering path

   path from the cabin to the car.  Juggling would be my life if not for . . .

2. I’m slower, I’m learning how to be willing to wait. I pause at store’s doors and look around hopefully for someone, anyone to help me open them. I’ve let Finn check my frenetic, furious pace.  I don’t mind people writing checks in Walmart’s checkout stand half as much as I used to.
3. I don’t wear perfume and make-up or heels as much.  Kissing Finn with lipstick is sad for him, rum raisin isn’t really his color. The perfume makes him sneeze and the heels, well, seriously now, you try balancing with extra weight and still walking straight as an arrow. I will NOT be one of those people who stumble around in her heels.  Heels and make-up come out for speaking (sometimes only the latter), girl’s nights out and dates.
   

   Ruby Slippers, again

   The one date Dale and I took, I was so pleased with the heel- affect I actually took a picture of myself in the ladies’ restroom.

4. I see my body in more accurate terms. I think of it as my trusty companion for this life, it’s splendidly strong and surprisingly weak, too.  I’m not convinced I’m such a knock-out, but I’m also quite pleased with how I can smile into people’s eyes, laugh so that my face isn’t the model of serenity. You know what I mean? My vein pops out of my forehead and my laugh “dents” show in my cheeks, my eyes crinkle and when I cackle you can see the fillings in my teeth.  Do you want to see a picture? Next time, I’ll see if I can get Dale to stop making me laugh long enough to snap it.
5. I don’t rush at God in my prayers with my wants as much.  I weigh my requests, I stop and ask myself or him first, “What does God want me to be and do?” Late at night my prayers changed, somewhere at about Finn’s 2 month mark. I no longer prayed, “God, make him sleep, please, please, please, make him fall asleep, relax him, soothe him.  Let him go back to sleep,” from my warm bed. Slowly, I began to pray differently.  As I heard Finn ramping up to belt out, “God, give me the strength to leave this bed, to not be angry with myself, or Finn, give me energy to feed him.”
6. I’m less judgmental toward “moms” in general. Like the woman who looked, well, matronly, but who was quick as lightening to summon cold water, cloths and kind words when I let Finn pull my hot tea down on his leg in Starbucks.  These women are vessels of stored, tried and tested wisdom. My favorite kind of matronly types? The kind who don’t just insert their opinions, but ask how they can help. I love them, love that I can admire them better, now.
7. I’ve become out of touch with what my body naturally needs to eat. I eat the amounts I used to and find I’m hungry in two hours and feel royally annoyed that the food couldn’t sustain me longer because LIKE I HAVE TIME to make another meal!! hmm, so maybe I’m not really all that patient! =) So I eat more and then feel too full and then more annoyed.  Nursing means I’m not totally sure how much food I need. I’ve become a better cook and more reliant on trailmix, powerbars for those surprising hunger grumbles when in town or on a plane.  But then I’m bugged because if I’m hungry I want to make something really yummy and enjoy it. Meal times, for me, feel cheated if they’re eaten either on-the-go or standing up? How can you enjoy food while standing?
8. Eight hours of uninterrupted sleep has become a beautiful luxury, the silver lining, but one I can function, even speak and write, without.  I have found that lack of sleep is not really a good excuse to be unkind. I used to think it was.
9. I’m less scared about being home alone at night without Dale.
   

   Hiking the White Woods

   Okay, having training to shoot handguns helped a lot, too (read more). But, I also feel that a little guy is relying on me to keep my wits about me. I don’t have that Anne-of-Green-Gables luxury to get all deliciously scared and freak myself out.

10. I’m less surprised when things don’t get done.  For instance, right now, Dale is hunting so the entry way is a muddy mess. As I tip-toed across it in my pjs this morning I had a weak memory flash that this would have exasperated me in pre-Finn days (e.g. “How can you expect me to let the dogs out when my feet get all dirty? Now I have to wash my pjs!”). This morning I filed the dirt into the “observed but less important than writing” file. I had this blog to write this morning and besides, the elk that I hope Dale tracks, must be paid for in some inconvenience. I’ve opened myself to inconvenience in exchange for the sake of something good, for a goal.  I can live with more “chaos” (for me this means unvacuumed floors, undusted counters, dirty windows, unstocked pantry, mice in the basement, clothes and 1/2 of my kitchen in storage) but two or maybe three things I really wanted to do are–not done–but begun.
11. I’ve let all those “tried and true” methods slip through my fingers if Dale and I believe Finn needs something.
12. Getting accustomed to people telling me the best way to do things and not saying a word. I’ve gotten good at holding my peace.
13. I’m starting to want comfier, lovelier pjs.
14. This one surprises me. I’ve gotten better at throwing things away. All of Finn’s clothes, once he outgrows go to his buddy, Sawyer.  (unless, of course, they’ve been hand-made)
15. I wrote less at first, but now, with co-parenting, I can write nearly as much.  However, I’ve cut back on my verbose emails.. I’m trying to get to the point more swiftly. Sometimes I turn it into a game to see how poignantly and briefly I can write well.
    

    Finn and Sawyer

16. I’m less worried my dogs are an inconvenience to others with their excitement and more easily put them “away” when we have guests around. They’re not the only show in town, now.
17. I’m not as willing to let Finn “cry it out” or to let him be babysat as I imagined I’d be.
18. I’m less delighted by the prospect of lots of traveling and speaking, though by the end of every event feel it’s still necessary work in this time.
19. Sex is unappealing when VERY sleep deprived. But so is everything else I like to do: eat, read, hike, cook, organize.  I remember afternoons when I could feel SOMETHING was wrong with me. I’d eat something because it sort of felt like a sugar imbalance, a slight dizziness and ache inside.  It wasn’t until a few days went by that I realized what I was hungry for . . . sleep.
20. I now know why women would not want to have children. I get that. Yes, even with my hungry hippo, laid-back, prince of a baby, I get that.
    

    Prince Charming

    I see why a child means change and I see why some women (and men) don’t want that change. I can respect, honor and even encourage that for many friends.

21. I know that God was good when he gave me Finn.
22. I feel more content (not  less) with having one child, like Finn is sufficient for me to feel filled up.

Being a mother hasn’t changed many things, these are, to my mind, the essentials of what I love in life.

• I still garden.
  

  Never did play basketball, but feel like I COULD when I wear this shirt!

• I still read.  See “Books I’m Reading” at right.
• I still knit and organize, cook and hike. Just with Finn on my back.

Hiking the White Woods with Emily and Sawyer - Oct 2010

• I still travel and speak and write.
• I still stay in my pjs when I have writing to do in the morning.
• I still want to write a book on women’s friendships.
• I still love being with my husband. A lot.  A lot.
• I haven’t felt “over touched” by Finn so that I don’t want to be cuddled or touched by my spouse.
• I still feel glad to be living in Colorado, even though far from family.
• I have never thought, “I was so selfish before I had Finn.”  I don’t think wanting to do the things that I’m good, to use my gifts is selfish, not then, not now.

Home on Earth

Last night as the days sighed its last breaths, I climbed upstairs where Finn was sleeping in our bed.  He lied resting on his back. I slide my hands under his little shoulders and leaned his weight up, onto my shoulder.  I felt his chest rising and falling in sweet, sustained rhythms.  He heaved a big sigh and shrugged down into the crook of my neck.

I couldn’t just lay him down again.  I held him for a few seconds longer, thinking how good it feels to be home to someone on earth.

I’m glad my nearness feels like safety to my son.  This motherhood time is sweet, not the best thing I’ve ever done, not the only thing I will ever contribute, but good, so good.

The night I found a sleeping baby giraffe

How about you? How has motherhood (or fatherhood) changed you?

For those women and men who live, as Dale likes to put it, “child-free”, how have you been able to do and give more?

Syndicated from Gifted for Leadership

Food, glorious food! It’s the time of year for eating. I imagine most of our Thanksgiving turkey gobbled up and the leftovers transformed into dishes like Real Simple’s recommendation: turkey barbeque sandwiches.

Food and Power

Food has power over our health. Earlier this week my husband, Dale, re-lived the poisonous side of food. His favorite meal, pizza, was ruined. It was, unfortunately, during the wee hours of the morning, at the start of our long drive from Los Angeles to home in Colorado. The food poisoning he experienced completely overhauled his body, leaving him weak, annoyed by the embarrassing inconvenience.

Food has power to unite us. Earlier this year Dale and I started a house church with another family. We have three rules, we eat together, we pray together and we share spiritual and financial resources together. The church has since doubled in size. Every week we rotate who will host, who will provide the main dish and who will cook up our “soul food.” So far, I’ve learned more about how to follow Jesus, more about love and unity than I’ve learned in years spent in my church pew. Even the kids participate.

Food and Gossip

One week after discussing gossip during house church, I was giving piano lessons to the youngest member, a ten year old boy named Peter. He told me a story about an annoying neighborhood dog, imitating the dog’s yeowl so convincingly that we both burst into giggles. Then, he paused and sheepishly looked up at me. “I guess I’ve just gossiped about him.” I explained that I wasn’t sure gossip applied to dogs, but I was glad he cared about speaking unkindly about others.

Our house church’s conversation of gossip took place in one of our first meetings. It was while we were polishing off these amazing crème brûlèe desserts. We ate and struggled together to come up with a definition for gossip. One teen daughter defined gossip as saying anything behind a person’s back that you wouldn’t say to their face. Two of the fathers agreed that gossip was that speaking when you’re not part of the problem or the solution. I read a few verses to share a Biblical idea of gossip.

One from Proverbs has since stuck with me, “The words of a gossip are like choice morsels; they go down to the inmost parts” (18:8 and 26:22). We batted around that “choice morsels” phrase trying to live in the metaphor. One twenty-something, made the observation that “choice morsels” of food go down into our bellies and are then distributed throughout our bodies. Just like food actually becomes part of us, so gossip becomes part of us. Gossip is often delicious. But like poisoned pizza: tasty when it goes down yet runs havoc through our veins.

When I gossip it changes me. What may have started as a small misunderstanding grows larger the more I share it. I become more vested in my point of view. Since that house church meeting, I’ve been using the Tasty Moral Test to watch my motivations before I speak of another person.

Tasty Morsel Test

1- Am I hungry for a treat or for a meal? I’ll often share or listen to something because I’m excited about a tasty little nugget, not because I’m really hungry to help, hungry to forgive, hungry to lay down my life for this person.

2- Will this knowledge sit in my soul as poison or nourishment? Once I share or hear this, will it help me love and sustain the people involved? Or will it leave me with a sour taste about them, poisoning my ability to help them?

3- Will I roil, churn and want to belch this stuff out? Crude as it may sound, one tried and true test for gossip is how quickly I want to unload it.

We need hearty soul food. With Christmas pressure to ramp up family and ministry activities we will be sorely tempted to put tasty little tidbits in our souls. Let’s nourish our souls with meals that sustain us so that we are healthy enough to share

I’m not critical of Beth Moore, but I am of us. My feelings towards Beth Moore are like my feelings about eating out. I have this ambivalence: I’m glad she’s around and that she’s speaking and passionately propounding the beauties of Scripture, I’m also troubled by how easily her Bible studies become our bible studies.

Last week I felt tired and uncreative almost every evening. When 7:30pm rolled around and both Fincher bellies were empty, the last thing I wanted to do was scrounge around in the fridge for some suspicious smelling leftovers. Mostly, I opted to eat out, because it was made-up, served-up and cleaned up and over with in about a 1/2 hour. Since, we have to eat, let’s go out. Panera is a lot simpler than home-made paninis.

Don’t get me wrong, I love eating at home (even if it’s just a microwaved meal with carrot sticks). The home-cooked meals offer me a chance to customize, to notice the details, to present the food and to make sure it’s really good for us. Though with our schedules it’s becoming more rare (One of the things I miss on the road is cooking our own food, yet when I get home, where’s the time?!) when I cook our meals, both Dale and I can sigh with contentment afterwards.

There is a dying tradition of mining out the good foods at the market, feeling the tomatoes for their quality, smelling the melons for their ripeness, then lugging it all home, unloading, putting away. Then, a few hours ahead of your hunger pains peeling, dicing, paring, simmering, sauteeing, baking, cooling, slicing, serving. Eating is just the last part of a longer process.

Eating out all the time is like doing another person’s Bible study all the time. Sometimes we need to eat-in.

There is a dying tradition of mining out the old, old stories from Scripture, of poring over long passages at a time, or of meditating on one verse for a half an hour, wondering what one word means and cross-referencing it with your concordance or looking it up on Bible Gateway.com to see what other versions say, of getting caught up with what one passage means and following it like Alice followed the white rabbit, losing all track of time. Few people set aside hours to read Scripture, if we’re really disciplined we get 20 minute chunks a day, or 2 hours of frantic filling the the blanks the day before Bible study. But if we do spent this type of time with Scripture, we will get a satisfied feeling in our souls. This food was something we dug for, something we found, a first person, un-mediated experience of the God we want to know better.

I’m an old-fashioned believer in the goodness of the process. That when I take time to cook, the eating is better. That when I take time to be with the Triune God, he will show me something about the passage that will be a long-term satisfaction, lasting me through the weeks. I’m not saying don’t listen to Beth Moore anymore than I’m swearing off eating out (though I have in the past and it was a good season). What I am saying is that if we rely on a Bible study to find out about God and never approach him one-on-one, we might miss the quality of Scripture, just like we miss the quality of a home-cooked meal.

Once in a while we need to shop and cook and eat for a meal at home. It will be a lot more work, but we will be glad we did. Once in a while we need to meet God as our only Bible study companion, no book, no list of questions to guide us, no video to propel us. We might get frustrated that we’re not in and out in 30 minutes (home-cooked meals usually take a good 1-2 hours) or that we cannot find the right measurement tool (we may get stumped with the mysterious places of the Bible–that happens to me every time I study it). Regardless we need to do it. Why? Because Bible studying shouldn’t always be an eating-out experience, with pre-packaged, mass-produced bullet-points and meditation questions. God can customize for us better than that.