Embracing the chaos…

My husband and I are pretty boring people, and when we found out I was pregnant, naming children became quite the enjoyable pastime for Jeff and me.  Having 5 children gave us plenty of times to get out the baby name book and experiment with different names we could use. To make name choosing easier, we came up with some categories of our own.

1. Themes

Jeff and I joked about naming our kids after outlaws, like Jesse James or Billy the Kid. But after we thought up those two outlaws, we were kind of at a loss, since we weren’t familiar with any other outlaws.

We also thought the planets might be an interesting way to name kids…Saturn, Venus, Mars…but Uranus might be in bad taste, and Pluto kind of implies being stupid.

I heard of one family naming their kids after the month they conceived…my thought in all that was that they might have to explain sex way too early.

But we got a good chuckle out of thinking of naming our kids after civil rights leaders just to tick my mother off…Martin, Malcolm, Mandela, Mahatma…

We ended up naming all of our kids some kind of Bible name, even Julia. Her name is found in the last chapter of Romans as someone Paul greets…yeah, I know, that was a stretch, but it still counts.

2. Alliterated names (all beginning with the same letter)

We didn’t intend to alliterate our children’s names really…I always thought it was kind of dorky especially after the children became adults. We originally had our first three sons’ names picked out before they were even born (I guess I had some inkling that I was going to have mostly boys and that they were going to come in fast succession). We liked Jesse (the outlaw in me kind of stuck), and Jonah came from the movie “Sleepless in Seattle.” Jake, we thought, was suitable for a third boy because it was tough sounding, and we figured our 3rd son would have to be tough.

But, when we had our 4th child, we had the opportunity to veer away from the alliteration because she was a girl, and so it would have been completely appropriate to not name her a “J” name, but we were like moths to the light…we couldn’t help but go there. I really considered naming her Journey…I’m not so sure that Jeff was sold on it, and my mom was horrified, and even the baby books make fun of this name.  But we went with the name Julia, which happens to be a Beatles song, and that was what finally sold it for me.

We had a fifth child, and even though there are an abundance of names that begin with “J,” we were beginning to run out of options we liked. And you can’t have Jesse, Jonah, Jake, Julia, and Fred…it just doesn’t quite gel with the rest…so we were stuck with “J” names unless we planned on having a 6th child, which we weren’t and aren’t. So our last and final name was Jeremiah…how we ended up naming our last born with such a long name, I’ll never know. All the other kids will be out at recess while he’ll still be writing his name on his paper…

3. Popular names

When naming children from the popular name list, know that popular named children will always know their last name exceptionally well (which can be a good thing if lost in a store) or will need to attend a very small school. The names Jeff and Kim were both extremely popular back in the 60’s and 70’s, so Jeff grew up being Jeff D. while I was one of the three Kim’s in my graduating class of 37. Jeff and I didn’t intentionally name our third son from the popular name list, but it seems Jacob has been the most popular boys’ name for 9 years running, and our son turned 9 in January, but we call him Jake…so maybe that will help.

I taught fourth grade several years ago. Out of a class of 18, I had three Hannah’s. And remember all the Kaitlyn’s spelled any way you could possibly imagine or come up with yourself…

4. Family names

We always wanted the middle name to be a family name. Jeff’s family had many names to choose from, but my family ended up with the short end of the stick simply because I have a very small family; I only have one cousin. There are only a handful of people in my family, and three of these people have the name Thomas in all its various forms of Tom, Tommy, Thomas. We didn’t want to overdo an already overdone thing.

My mother was convinced we needed to name a girl Gillette after my grandmother’s maiden name…and for obvious reasons we didn’t want our daughter to be known as ”the best a man can get..” Earl is also a family name on my side, and I really tried hard to make it work, but Jeff was pretty adamant that Earl was just not meant to be. Ronald is yet another name, but we just couldn’t do that either…sorry, Dad. My mom also had some relative that was named Wilhemina…yeah…,no. Consequently, all the middle names came from Jeff’s side.

So there you have it. This is what two married English majors sit around and do for fun, and this actually makes us laugh out loud. So what’s in a name…more than you can possibly imagine.

Yesterday, Jeff and I celebrated our 16th anniversary. Sixteen years…5 kids later…it seems a little surreal. Sixteen years ago, we honeymooned at Hilton Head for a week, and then we worked at a camp as Staff Directors for the summer, where we slept on a mattress on the floor in an old kitchen and had to use the bathhouse along with everyone else. I believe when we agreed to take on this adventure, I was thinking it was going to be like some kind of an extended honeymoon, which it was not. I wouldn’t recommend newly married couples working at camp, but as I review back over our journey it was where we needed to be…where we were supposed to be…I can spend endless hours reviewing all the things I wished I had done or should have done or could have done, but it’s really all very pointless, and dwelling on that stuff just doesn’t help me live in the here and now. Real life is happening all around me, and I miss it if I’m stuck in the past or consumed by the future.

Jeff and I had an argument the day before our anniversary…well, it wasn’t actually an argument…it was more like I got mad and just didn’t talk to him, and when I finally did talk, after slamming things around in my kitchen for a while, I was just mean. What I said to him that he couldn’t refute was my use of the word typical. I don’t think I’ve ever used that word in an argument before. But once I threw out that particular word, he knew he couldn’t argue about the 16 years of his “typical” behavior. When I assigned the word typical to him, I was dredging up everything wrong that he had ever done in the past, and the poor boy didn’t have a chance, and he knew it. He said to me later that I don’t forgive easily, and he’s right. I never really let things go…it might seem like I forgive at the time, but it just means I’ve filed it away for later use.

We’ve had 16 years together…that’s a long time to grow and to learn about another person. Some years have gone relatively smoothly, and some years we’ve struggled and limped along…that’s just the way it is. In the book Real Sex: The Naked Truth About Chastity, Winner says this about married life, “We will argue, and feel broken, and wonder why we ever married in the first place-and it is God who will sustain us in those spells.” I think I personally signed on for the fairy tale marriage which I found out rather quickly doesn’t exist.

But this is the man…this is my man, and I’m learning how to love him little by little…and once again, I’m also learning that it’s really not about my feelings or my perceptions at the time…they’re not trustworthy, and they change. There have been times when I’ve thought Abba must have made a mistake when he gave me this man. But I’ve come to the conclusion that Abba always knows what He’s doing, and it’s always good, whether or not I choose to see it that way at the time. And my heart is filled with gratitude for an Abba Father who sustains me at all times…and who has gifted me with Jeff for this lifetime.<

I’ve had a few rough days lately, days that I just don’t want to get out of bed or somehow end up getting back in. It’s been dreary outside, and my house and yard look like they’ve been turned inside out…I’m sure my neighbors appreciate that about my yard…but then who am I trying to impress anyway…

The last couple days I haven’t taken my morning walk which I should always do, no matter what. It seems to give me perspective and appreciation and helps me see outside of myself. Yesterday, after I got up, I went into Julia’s room and saw that she had swiped some thermometers off my dresser, and for some reason, this sent me over the edge. I started yelling, and then when I reached down to pick up one of the thermometers off the floor, I smashed my head into the windowsill. And that, of course, made me yell louder and made me even angrier than I already was, and now I have a nice lump with a bruise on my forehead…I love it when Abba gives me a visible reminder that some things just don’t matter all that much, but I wasn’t really appreciating my reminder at the time.

This incident just led me to get back into bed where I tried to sleep off my irritability. But sometimes sleep doesn’t help that much. And when I woke up, I was still sad and irritated. Some things are soul issues that don’t go away with sleep.

I don’t handle transitions well, and now my three older boys are home from school. And, middle school boys are in an amazing category all their own. They pick at each other and run around and shoot rubber bands and steal hats and just generally cause a big ruckus and a mess that I don’t think I was ready to take on yet. A friend of mine told me years ago that you have to keep this age busy or they become really out of control. I guess it’s kind of like having really active toddlers who get into everything but with bigger bodies and bigger mood swings…how that is possible, I’m not sure. But it’s chaotic, and I just haven’t felt like embracing this chaos yet.

I think what I’m coming head to head with on a daily basis is my complete and utter selfishness. It’s a little scary to look at so openly and honestly and realize that some days I’ve made everything really all about me, and it’s ugly…real ugly.

I keep having this recurring dream of walking around topless. I wouldn’t even actually call it a dream…it’s just a sense of having done this…a really strong sense. I actually asked my husband if I had ever done this and more specifically had I done this in front of his parents. I’m sure Freud would have a heyday with this. But I know this has to do with being vulnerable, and I’m feeling vulnerable, like I’ve revealed too much about myself…like people are shaking their heads at me. It shouldn’t really matter, but sometimes it just does. However, I’m realizing my feelings change a lot, and I really can’t count on them to tell me the truth.

I’m going to keep writing these things, because I think this is all part of being human. And in confessing my weaknesses and my humanness is where the mask comes off and the façade fades and where Abba reveals Himself to me in my need. Having it all together is overrated and a lot of hard work to keep up…quite frankly I don’t have that much energy to expend on presenting something that’s false…so here it is…the good, the bad, and the ugly…but thank goodness today’s a new day, and Jesus is alive and working in me, whether I feel like it or not.

I wish I could remember exactly when I stopped climbing trees. It was probably when my family moved after I was in sixth grade. I don’t remember doing it after that. And maybe that’s also when I misplaced my child-like wonder and curiosity of the things around me. But a couple summers ago, I began the process of awaking from my deep sleep, and started taking notice once again. It’s still such an effort to stop and look, but it’s worth it. My children, on the other hand, seem to experience everything fully, and their gratitude shows in their simple excitement of what Abba’s created for them to enjoy.

When I was growing up, every summer my brother, sister, and I would just have to climb the only tree in our yard that was climbable. Unfortunately, this tree was covered with  poison ivy, but we braved it anyway, then paid the consequences later. But for some reason it was always worth it to us. Our memories of scratching and itching and being coated in calamine lotion seemed to lessen in our minds when the urge would hit, and we would climb, because there’s something about being a kid and having both feet off the ground.

About a week ago, the urge once again hit, and I climbed a tree when the boys were at school and the two little ones were napping. There’s something a little unusual, perhaps downright frightening about a 30 something climbing a tree, especially when there are no kids around to excuse this kind of behavior.  When I first attempted to climb, I thought I was going to have to get out a ladder just to get to the first branch, which kind of defeats the whole tree climbing experience. But somehow I hoisted myself up and actually found myself sitting on a limb. That’s as far as I got though. I was afraid if I went any higher and fell out of the tree, I might have to drag myself across the front yard like a wounded soldier. It was a little embarrassing to think that my neighbors might drive by and see me climbing a tree. But what can they say? “The crazy lady with 5 kids climbs trees when her kids aren’t around.” Yeah, just a little odd. But in my quest to see Abba in all things, especially in nature, I think I’m becoming a little less inhibited…and hopefully in this process of becoming fully alive I’m more in awe of who He is and what He’s put here for me to enjoy. When the boys got home from school, I climbed again with them…I’m amazed at how they can move so quickly around the tree with no shoes on while I sit contentedly perched on my branch.

A couple days ago, as I was getting back from my morning walk, I thought someone left a radio on because I heard singing, but I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. As I was looking around, I noticed something red in one of the trees. There, sitting high up in the tree in his school clothes was Jonah, and he was singing.

I recently came across this passage in Ecclesiastes 9. “Seize life! Eat bread with

gusto…God takes pleasure in your pleasure! Each day is God’s gift. Make the most of each one! Whatever turns up, grab it and do it…heartily!” I felt God’s pleasure as I sat up in the tree and felt the wind blow and heard the leaves rustle. There’s something freeing about no longer being grounded…I felt a little bird-like.

 5 essentials when traveling with kids:

     1.  Wet wipes

They’re good for everything even if you don’t have kids.  They are especially good for wiping sticky faces and hands if you were foolish enough to have taken anything that contained sugar, which not only makes a sticky mess but also hypes kids up beyond belief. Wipes are also good for cleaning up vomit (although you need massive amounts for this).

     2. Towels

I learned to carry towels with us when my first son routinely got car sick all over his car seat. Towels can be used to catch vomit or clean it up, but they can also be draped over cloth seats (which is unfortunate to have if you have kids) and car seats (which unfortunately are always cloth).

3.  Plastic bags  (preferably not Walmart bags)

I have found that they are very good for catching vomit if handed out in time. Walmart bags however do not serve this purpose since they almost always have holes in the bottom. I recently had to use one myself and am glad I checked the bottom of the bag first. If you don’t hand them out in time or don’t have children old enough to use them properly, then these bags can be used for the clothes or towels that have now been vomited on.

4.  Large cups with lids

Restaurant cups work well for boys who just can’t hold it any longer. But be sure to get rid of the straw after you put the lid back on, so you don’t accidentally take a swig later.

5.   Jackson Browne CD’s

This can be used for children who have been given sugar in any form (juice boxes included) and are now bouncing off the walls. These same children are bored with the DVD’s that they themselves picked out.  I must say, this music had an unexpected, but welcomed drug effect on my children…Jeff and I were like, “Hey, where did the kids go?”

This past weekend Jeff and I made a quick trip to Tuscaloosa for a high school graduation, and we were able to see a lot of our friends. This is the third time I’ve been back to Tuscaloosa since we moved to Nashville, but this time I finally accepted that we’re supposed to be where we are.  For me, the fog is finally beginning to lift, and I’m experiencing a peace within that I haven’t had for some time.

I’ve been wandering in the wilderness for a while, and wilderness living isn’t much fun. I can totally relate to the children of Israel. Even though Abba’s been providing the manna and the water, there’s been a lot of complaining and griping on my part. Just like them, I can see the hand of God all around me, but I’ve chosen to live for a while just focusing on the sand, the heat, and on myself.  

Growing up, I always heard the story of the children of Israel crossing the Red Sea, but I don’t remember much being said about them crossing the Jordan River…maybe crossing two rivers was just too much to emphasize, but our God is big, and one river was most certainly not enough. God brought the Israelites to the Jordan River during flood season when the Jordan was overflowing its banks. After He parted it for them to cross, God had one man from each of the twelve tribes pick up a rock from the middle of the Jordan to take to the other side as a memorial of what God had done for them. Ten months ago, I was supposed to pick up my rock as a memorial, but I kind of got stuck standing in the middle of my Jordan looking back, thinking at times that maybe I could make a dash for the side I had just left. I’ve been so wrapped up in looking back and longing for what I had that I haven’t been able to move forward, to embrace life where I am. I’ve been paralyzed and isolated and have felt quite sorry for myself. 

This weekend, a friend of mine gave me a word from Abba, and I am just grateful that He would speak to her on my behalf, because honestly, I’ve been a little hard of hearing lately. Those words spoke encouragement and hope to my soul. I had begun to doubt the things that Abba has done in and through me. Songs that we sang in church also spoke Abba’s love and power to me, and I’m grateful that He is Lord in this place…in Nashville, in my home, in my heart.

I still miss my friends terribly, and I always will, but it’s time…time for me to stop looking back with regrets and begin the process of moving forward, as painful and awkward as that is.  It’s time for me to enter the race again. I’ve been sidelining too long. I think I’m finally ready to embrace and receive what He has here.  Yeah, I’m a little nervous and anxious…stepping out is hard for me…but right now I’m fixing my eyes on Jesus and crossing my Jordan one step at a time with my rock lifted high toward heaven.

This past weekend, one of my neighbors gave my third son Jake a turtle which he named Jerry.  Jake left Jerry outside in too small of a box, and by the time we got back from a walk, his turtle was gone. We were all in a panic and looked all over for Jerry. Our cat ended up finding him underneath some weeds a couple feet away from where the box was. Whew…close call.

When Jake plays outside, he takes Jerry out of his box and lets him hang out in the grass. Last night was no exception. But last night was very chaotic, more chaotic than usual.  Jeff brought one of the other teacher’s kids home with him, so we had seven kids running around the yard with Jerry smack dab in the middle of it all. By the time the other children were picked up, there was piano to do, teeth to brush, and we’ve been ending our nightly routine by playing a rousing game of foosball. Not until this morning before Jeff and the boys were leaving for school did we realize that Jerry was not in his box. Left outside all night, Jerry could have been anywhere. . .Jeff and I both realized we might be spending the summer looking for Jerry.

Jeff and my other two boys left early for school, but I let Jake stay home and look for his turtle. At one point he screamed out, “It’s just a stupid turtle anyway!” But for Jake, who loves all animals, he was heartbroken as only a 9 year old can be over a lost pet. In fact, in Jake’s back pack I had just found a picture Jake had drawn of Jerry…I was glad Jake had documented Jerry’s short life with us, because we’d surely seen the last of him.

Jake didn’t want to be late for school, so I went outside to tell Jake that we needed to leave soon. As I was talking to Jake, something caught my attention because I glanced over to my left. There in front of our shed was Jerry craning his neck at me…just waiting for us to find him…well, that’s what I’d like to think.

So, once again, Jerry had been found. I’m sure Jerry will escape again or be forgotten or lost, and there will be more tears and perhaps another search and rescue, but it’s worth it. It’s worth seeing my son hang out with his turtle and take care of something that makes him so happy. There will be disappointing, heartbreaking days for Jake…I’m just glad today was not one of them.

I’ve been climbing the hill at my house for almost a week now. I’ve been trying to do it once in the morning and then once again in the evening. Rumor has it that Garth Brooks owns a house at the very top of the hill…but I can barely see the house from the gate, and there’s a camera, so I haven’t investigated further.  We live at the bottom of the hill on the other street…we’re his friends in low places…

When you get to the top of the hill, there’s an incredible view of the entire city. There, in the middle of the city is the famous Batman building, which my oldest son insisted we all had to touch one night when we were in downtown Nashville for a concert.

I’ve been really sore from climbing the hill, and I was beginning to think I was quite the wimp. Even though I had taken a month sabbatical from exercising (sabbatical…makes it sound like it was planned; it makes me sound like I’ve just run a marathon or something and need to rest…actually I just got a little bored and lazy), I honestly didn’t think I was that out of shape to be so sore. Jeff assured me I wasn’t as much of a weenie as I thought I was, that it actually is quite a steep climb…I mean, you can see the entire city, and Garth must have an incredible view from his back porch…

I’ve found I like climbing the hill for three very different reasons. I like walking by myself in the morning…it gives me a chance to exercise and to talk with Abba away from all the chaos. I haven’t gotten up early enough these days to see the sun rise, but I discovered last fall that that is a breathtaking sight. One morning, I was excited to see a rabbit though. I like going again in the afternoon with Jeff because it gives us a chance to talk and hang out without “little ears” around.  But I think I especially like climbing the hill with my children…they notice the many things I wouldn’t necessarily notice by myself. When I walk with my kids, I have no agenda, other than keeping my children off the road when cars go by.  We get to stop for every caterpillar, cool stick, bird, butterfly, honeysuckle, and keys (which my second son has informed me is the name for those helicopter twirly things)…we take the time to stop and really enjoy Abba’s creation with child-like wonder and amazement that adults have to work hard to understand and relax enough to truly enjoy…maybe that’s why Jesus liked little kids so much…they get it…the wonder of it all…

Jeremiah, my 3 year old, was asked this morning at church what he wants to do when he grows up. He answered, “Feed the chickens.” I think when I finally grow up, I want to feed the chickens too…

Today, I’m wondering once again if Abba was even in our move to Nashville…I look at the stuff going on around us, and I’m confused why He would choose this for us. But when I start to doubt that Abba is sovereign and that He ordained all my days for me before one of them came to be (Psalm 139:16), that’s when I review my story. I look at the details and think, only Abba could have done that. This time, I think He made it so obvious that when I begin to question how I got here, there is little room for doubt that He is in control. I think He usually makes it obvious, but sometimes in my striving, I lose sight of Him, and my actions distract me from what He’s already in the process of doing.

Our pastor is doing a series called “Plan B: What to do when your dreams are shattered.” In other words, what do you do when life doesn’t turn out the way you wanted it to? I’ve come to realize my Plan B, or C, or D has always been God’s plan A. But just because I know He’s in control, and I can see that He is at work doesn’t mean it’s going to be an easy path or one that I necessarily like all that well. I guess that’s the part where trusting comes in. I have to trust that He absolutely knows what’s best for me, and eventually at some point surrender…

I guess these days I’ve been looking back a lot. I’ve been doing a lot of comparing, comparing the way my life used to be to the way it is now. In looking back, it’s funny how you forget the bad and glorify the good.  When I was in high school, a new girl came to my school. All she could talk about was her old school and how much better it was than mine, and it got really annoying after a while…right now, I’m that girl…and just like her, I don’t really think my wallowing in the past has actually been doing me any good. Abba didn’t give me a song this time, not yet anyway; he gave me a book, a fiction book, in fact. The character in the book described me well, painfully so. It was hard to see myself as I truly am, and it also woke me up to my lack of honestly about the past.

I know why the children of Israel had memorials, so that when they began to look back they could remember the things God had done for them. An honest look back at the past and a true gratefulness about what Abba has done can be beneficial. I think I’m going to write a memorial of the things Abba has done in my life in the past year…it has been an amazing, wild, terrifying ride…I didn’t always surrender and trust, and along the way I ignored a few danger signs about being too close to the waterfall and came close to plunging over a few times…but I’m still here…and Abba’s still leading me…

When you grow up “un-athletic,” people don’t expect much from you…but they do get aggravated when you make their team lose. I would always try really hard…but I always seemed to choke when the pressure was on. In junior high, I tried out for softball, basketball, and volleyball…I made the volleyball team but only because everyone that tried out made the volleyball team…my volleyball career ended quickly…I didn’t actually get to play in any games, and I think I sat the bench during most of the practices…

I never looked athletic either. I was kind of gangly, and I had big owl glasses up until the 10^th grade. I also had buck teeth. I didn’t have the opportunity to wear the embarrassing headgear that some had to wear, but I did have to wear a contraption called a bionator which was used to pull my jaw forward since I had a serious overbite. When I had it in my mouth, I was unable to talk since it connected my bottom teeth to my top teeth.  When I was in 9^th grade, several of the boys in my class nicknamed me chicken…for me, it was a term of endearment. My mom taught us all English, and they graced her with the name buzzard…I definitely know that that was no term of endearment. But the summer between my 9^th and 10^th grade years, I got contacts, and my teeth were finally straight…and for some reason, the boys stopped calling me chicken…I actually kind of missed it though.

Even though I began to look more “normal,” my non-athletic status remained. A person can change their looks to some degree, but in my case, the clutzy part just kind of stuck with me. I ended up becoming a cheerleader.  At that time, being a cheerleader at my school did not require a whole lot of skill. You pretty much just had to act excited, jump up and down, and flap your arms around…maybe that’s where the name chicken came from…probably not…

During summer vacation, I would always go to camp for a week.  I absolutely hated playing the games at camp. The first night there, we always played big ball volleyball. My goal was to try to stay out of the way, but every once in a while, I would get stuck in the middle of 200 brutal girls all trying to hit the ball…I felt like I was being squished between several bumper cars…I certainly would have preferred to watch from the sidelines. One summer at camp, we played the dizzy bat game where you put your head on the top of the bat and spin around and then run…I was one of the last ones to go, so I was running as fast as I could, but I ended up slipping on the wet grass, falling down, and breaking my arm the second day of camp. I actually considered this a good thing since I didn’t have to participate in any more games.

My husband Jeff is coaching a YMCA soccer league that two of our boys are playing in. There is a boy named Tracy on the team that would probably rather be doing something else…he gets a little distracted and sometimes forgets to run.  When he gets hit with the ball which has happened more than once, he does a dramatic slow motion fall to the ground.  But if Tracy makes deliberate contact with the ball, we parents on the sidelines go berserk cheering for him. Not long ago, he kicked the ball two times in a row near the goal, and though there was not much hope that the ball would go in, there is something about cheering for the underdog because sometimes they surprise you.

One summer during college, I worked as a counselor at a camp.  Again, I wasn’t crazy about playing the games, but at least I was bigger than my campers since most of my campers were under the age of 12. One afternoon, we were playing pole basketball, a game where the goal is to knock the ball off the pole with another basketball. The ballgame was tied, and it was getting late, so they decided to have a sudden death. Each team started by picking the best, most athletic counselors, but no one could knock the ball off the pole. By this time, it was getting really late, and since I was the only one left to go, no one was really hopeful that the game was going to end any time soon, including me…But somehow that afternoon, the ball I threw made contact with the ball on the top of that pole…it was surreal…even members of the other team were jumping up and down cheering. I think I was picked up off the ground and carried by some of the counselors…I don’t really recall, but I’m almost positive I was…

But back to Tracy…I hope Tracy scores that goal some day soon because his team members and the parents on the sideline will cheer like that is the greatest goal ever scored. That will be the triumph of the season…at least in his heart and mind. He’ll carry his one shining moment with him forever…it’s been almost 20 years and I’m still talking about mine…J