At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
We just returned to Boston from Prince Edward Island. I fell deeply in love with the place, though I think somehow I already was through my childhood love of Anne of Green Gables. On the long drive home, we listened to an audiobook of the first Anne book. So many memories of my girlish self came back. I have always resonated on a profound level with the Anne stories and it doesn't seem to wane with age. I'm not quite sure how, but these got me thinking tonight about my own future family and the many fears and sorrows I harbor concerning them. I think it might have started with the way the Anne stories have always stirred up my longings for "place." As a child who struggled terribly with identity and a sense of home, and as an adult who spent almost an entire decade on the move, Montgomery’s sense of belonging to a place and a people has always struck a deep nerve with me – tonight I've once again been pondering my own inability to claim a "home." As I think about my siblings, my parents, and myself and the unlikelihood of us all living in the same place again in life, and as I contemplate the general roaming, caravanning way of life among my generation, the more I long for the certainty of the location of life past generations enjoyed. I often feel like it will be necessary for my children to know stability. But really, wherever we are and whatever degree of locational sameness we give our children, they are only with us for a short time. All we can provide them is the proverbial wing to shelter under, and then they are gone, whether it is to the other side of the world, or the next street over. They will leave us, and they must leave us, and geographic proximity can't reduce the process. Vacationing with my parents earlier this summer, and Daniel and Bethany just this past week, has really caused me to think about the next "level" of adulthood that it seems God is pushing me into. I've been on my own throughout my twenties, sometimes very much so. But it seems like my thirties will really be the time in which I will not just be figuring how to live and operate on my own, but also come fully into womanhood. It's time for me to "become my own man." Doing so is not and will not be a severing of familial ties; but, it will change them. It will reduce my fear of disapproval and disagreement. It will empower me to imagine the life I believe in and strive after it. It will reduce my unconscious attempts to placate and replicate my parents, letting go of things I truly disagree with and embracing those that I wholeheartedly embrace. For me, geography and independence are inexplicably intertwined. My guilt for leaving often resurfaces in my attempts to keep things exactly the same. But it is not good for children to stay under the wing prolongedly, whether physically or metaphorically. My children will do the same to me wherever I raise them. They will be with me for a time, and then they will leave, and then they will change. Life will go on. The important thing is that I have a life that will go on.
0 Comments
At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
Last night I had the weirdest dream. I dreamt that I had a baby. But the father was already married. The baby was the sweetest thing ever and much of the dream had to do with taking care of him. But then I had to address the issue that I was a single mother who had a baby with a married man. Yuck. It felt horrible. At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
I wrote the following for my Jonathan Edwards class and I want to remember it here. “‘Being sensible that I am unable to do anything without God’s help, I do humbly entreat him by his grace to enable me to keep these resolutions, so far as they are agreeable to his will, for Christ’s sake.’ With these words from Jonathan Edwards as a reminder of my complete dependence on Christ to attain not only my salvation, but also sanctification, I list here a set of twenty-five resolutions. May these resolutions work for my spiritual benefit, and may I avoid creating a law unto myself; for the law ultimately can do no good for my eternal state, apart from the power of the Holy Spirit in me to regenerate and renew my will to live for Christ.
At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts I've realized two things recently. First, I am incredibly jealous of people, particularly those close to me. I have a pervasive and unsettling inability to rejoice with those who rejoice. When someone close to me experiences something good, my immediate and first reaction is to feel insecure, as if this good thing for someone else is by default bad for me. It causes me to think that people do not like me, or that I am dumb, or that others never want to include me. It's like FOMO, but incredibly twisted and sad, and it causes me to stress constantly about people, trying to evaluate them and perceive if they are doing better, or getting more out of life than me. I need two things. I need to learn to be deeply and truly content. I need to remind myself daily that if I cannot be happy with what I have now, then I will never be happy. If I cannot cherish the people and the material gifts and the opportunities I have now, then I will not cherish those things if they change. Additionally, I need to learn what it means to rejoice with those who rejoice. I am quite good at mourning with those mourn. My life is a constant “mitgefuehl” with the woes of the world. But I do not know how to be happy with those that are happier than me. I am missing an entire half of the equation of what it means to love people. All of this has struck me recently because I've struggled greatly with jealousy concerning those closest to me. I've been jealous of family members having fun without us. I've been jealous of my sister's beauty and talent, even though I am incredibly proud of her. I've been jealous of my husband’s intellectual abilities, even though those abilities will support and provide for our family. I've been jealous of numerous people very near to me for numerous silly reasons. And as I thought about all of this on the T ride back from the Athenaeum today, it struck me - I will struggle with jealously of my children. If I am jealous now of these silly, petty things when I am in the prime of my life, what will I be like when I am aging and my children are not? I need to learn contentment. The second realization I've had concerns my mother and my fear of motherhood. Just the other day, Trey was teasing me about how much I will worry over our children, or in fact, how much I already worry over them without having any! I admitted to the fact that I already frequently worry about our future children and pray for their souls. We laughed together, but in the midst of the laughter, it struck me that the degree to which I feel anxious over our children, my mother has felt similarly anxious and more for me. It became real and tangible to me in a way I've not known before that I am my mother's anxieties. I am what worries her, has worried her for 30 years, in the way that I worry for my own children. It was staggering to think about, and fearful. I always say that it terrifies me to think of having a child like myself, and it was as if I could feel the anxieties of my mother for me as her reality and my reality merged with each other for one brief moment. Motherhood seems like a frightful thing and I am glad for my mother's endurance in it. (Image by Gertrude Käseboer, "The Heritage of Motherhood.") Momma and Daddy's Flat, The White House Guesthouse, Glasgow
I really want to live abroad with my children whenever I have them. In particular, I would love to live in Edinburgh. Some of the greatest treasures of my childhood were my experiences living overseas and in various places around the county. As with most things in life, this is also funnily the most painful aspect of my childhood. For so much of my life, I longed to have a sense of place. But now I look back and am deeply thankful for the way my world was always a much bigger place than it would have been if I had just lived in one location. I hope I get the opportunity to share this aspect of who I am with my children. B. and V.'s Flat, Shoreditch, London
I want to listen to my children if I have any. And by that, I don't mean adhere to them, but rather to take them seriously, to engage them, and above all to remember what childhood was like. I want to hear their souls. We went to see Matilda tonight and it brought me to tears. Though my childhood was of course nothing at all like that depicted on stage, the point of the play hit home. So many things about childhood are deeply painful and adults too often feel distant and terrifying. Children think that growing up will give you the strength to overcome the multitude of fears you face and the loneliness you feel. Childhood in many ways is essentially lonely, even in the very best circumstances. Children may be dear playmates, but they are never less than competitors, and adults may be deeply loving, and have no clue how to communicate with you or hear, really hear, what lies underneath the seemingly simple exterior of your childhood. Children are never simple and what may seem petty or foolish is usually only a simple expression of a very serious and complex emotion within. I observe many parents who don't understand their children, especially if they have moody children, and it makes me sad. These kids are simply dealing with all of the things we deal with now as adults, but in childish terms. If only more adults could remember, truly remember, what their internal lives as children were like, and from that starting point try to engage their children. This won't make their children any less sinful, but I imagine it would enable those children to feel less like growing up will solve all of their problems, and in turn create less adult exasperation that all of our problems haven't yet been solved. Families are always messed up, and they always will be. Children will always have a rough time. Growing up will always suck. There were many things I loved about homeschooling and I still want to try to do it myself; but, if there is any charge that I level against the homeschooling movement of my childhood, it was the idea that homeschooling would fix families. Yes, I know (as so many parents have told me) that our childhoods were nothing like their unhappy experiences in the school system. I do not challenge that. But just because something is better than horrible does not mean it cannot also be painful. My siblings, my friends, and I all grew up in what were, all things considered, idyllic homes. And we all have deep turmoil in our souls over many things concerning our childhoods. Does this mean that our childhoods weren't good? Of course not! But it is a fault of homeschooling to fail to understand that even in healthier contexts we could have our own issues within childhood. If we can't openly talk about the pain of our experiences, we cheapen something that was good in a broken world by turning it into a false ideal. When we argue that something was better than the alternative, we sometimes fail to recognize the traumas of our own ways. We are all broken people with very real and significant pains – every happy homeschooling family included. And this is why I want so much to really hear my children. Whatever paths we choose for and with them, their lives will be painful. They will be broken. I will cause that brokenness. And the worse thing I could do would be to think that I can create a system that would offset the brokenness, when really the best thing I could do is just actually get to know my child's heart. At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
This morning as I showered, the greatest sense of peace came over me regarding having children. I thought in passing about how much I haven't been stressing over the issue recently now that everything with school is pretty much decided and I'm only a few weeks away from starting. It's like someone has pressed the "play" button, and now that everything is in motion, it's all ok. My next thought was a premonition. All of the sudden, I felt very certain that Trey and I would not be able to conceive. But rather than panic, I immediately knew that was ok, too. We would keep trying for a while and then eventually adopt. And I was totally, completely happy with the thought. It would be a very different life than what I've ever imagined, for sure. Thinking of myself as the 35-year-old mom with a career, multiple degrees, and newly adopted child is definitely not what I ever imagined for myself. I've always loved the idea of adoption, but not necessarily this way. Yet there was deep peace in all of these reflections and I knew it was ok. After my shower, I continued to reflect on it. Disappointment started to creep in at the possibility of never asking the question, "Who does our baby look like more?" That would truly be difficult. But then I also thought about the joy of redemption that adoption uniquely offers and I knew that there are aspects about both that the other doesn't share. Working hard, making money, and accomplishing certain things wouldn't be bad. And the mothers I know who have adopted are no less mothers in my estimation. I've never once lumped them into a different category in my mind. I would still be experiencing the fullness of motherhood. In the end, though, I'm glad to be able to say, "What 'er my God ordains is right," and leave it at that. I'm excited to be a mother and I am excited to know peace in whatever manner motherhood comes to me. Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, South Hamilton, Massachusetts
I've started buying clothes that will double as maternity clothing. I know this is about the most ridiculous thing ever, and I haven't bought these clothes specifically for that purpose. But I really like "comfy" clothes and have found myself gravitating towards and purchasing more and more tunics. Whenever I do, I find myself thinking, "Oh this is cute now and it will be great when I'm pregnant!" And then I get a little thrill. Last week, I almost bought my first piece of clothing with maternity truly in mind. I was at Anthropologie looking for a dress for Trey's Baccalaureate dinner. I found a nice dress for the dinner, but also tried on a stretchy dress that would be really unusual for me now. I was pretty bloated that day and my normal stomach pooch looked a little more baby-bump-like than normal, and I realized the dress would look amazing on a pregnant woman. I couldn't think of a time or way to wear it not pregnant, so I didn’t end up buying it, but now I'm doubting myself because it would have made the cutest maternity dress. At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
How do you pray when nothing in your life is particularly bad, or particularly good? The things on my heart all pertain to success in work for myself and for those that I love, and somehow this seems fundamentally selfish. I know that God is said to care about all aspects of our life, but is it really not selfish to pray for success and blessing when my brothers and sisters are dying for myriad reasons? I don’t mean this as a trite question. It is often difficult for me to pray for myself and my family at all when I feel like there are so many other things God ought to be paying attention to. Trey is truly struggling with finals, my dad's has work frustrations, J. has to pass quals this second time around, R. has a job interview. Without God carrying all of these things to completion, very large and significant changes will be wrought in our lives and the work we've been given up till now will end. So I want to pray, desperately, for success. But I can't figure out how to pray for success. If we fail, isn't that supposed to mean that God has something else in store for us? But aren't we supposed to work hard to succeed? But we all seem to be at points where there is no pretense that anyone else other than God can bring about our success in these areas. But what if God doesn't give success in these areas? On what basis do I go to God to petition him for success? On what or whose account do I petition for success? I can't petition on my merit or the people I love's merit - we are all meritless. I think it is on Christ's merit that I approach the throne, but does that apply to success in work? "God give us success in this work on behalf of Christ's work" doesn't seem right, but rather shallow and silly in the light of so many other bigger issues. And there I am stuck. On what basis can I go to God to ask for the things that I desire? They seem like good things, but I am not God, so how can I say what is good? I dare not barter with God. The only thing I can ever land on is simply asking. Petitioning the Lord simply because I want something. And that is where it seems petty and selfish. Is the best thing to just not want anything or desire anything? Is it best not to care what work you do or what God gives you? I just don't know. At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
Today was so good. The Lord provided so abundantly for Trey, and I couldn't be more proud of him and thankful to God. Trey got top honors in his graduating class from Gordon-Conwell. On one level, I'm kind of frustrated with him because of how much he always talked as if this was just not a possibility. But that's only a very small part of me. Most of me is just really happy. And really really relieved. I know everything would have been good too if he had not received this honor, but I've been praying practically the entire time we've known each other for him to excel, not for his own merit, but for the blessing I think he will be to others. I believe in the work he wants to do and his fitness for it. But since we got home, I've been feeling anxious again. I don't really know why, but as I was driving around doing errands today, it occurred to me that sometimes God's blessings are scarier than his discipline. I know this is twisted, but when the Lord blesses us, I often feel like asking, "When is the shoe gonna drop?" When is God going to call in the debt and discipline us? So many people I know believe that suffering is integral to the Christian life – and a necessary fruit of the Spirit. I know the Spirit is at work in me, so when is the hit coming? Most of the time, I find myself assuming it will come in the realm of our family. We won't be able to have kids. The kids will be a disaster. There must be something huge and horrible in my life; it can't all be blessings. I know this is faulty thinking, but it is so deep down in me that I don't know how to change it. God’s blessings scare me because they render me powerless and defenseless. They remind me the scales cannot be balanced - there is a debt, but is infinitely tipped in one direction, forever to remain so. I don't know why God ushers some into suffering and others into blessing. But I do know I want and need to learn to accept the goodness that God freely extends my way. |
About the ProjectThis is a very personal project. It tracks my growth and development as I journeyed toward motherhood over the recent years. It doesn't document every experience I had, and probably neglects my more joyful and peaceful moments in the frenzy of trying to communicate my fears, anxieties, and doubts. If you are a friend or loved one, please do not let anything you read here overshadow what you know of me personally. If you are a stranger, please remember that a living and flawed person stands behind these words. To all my guests here, please understand these are not political statements and try to extend me grace, even as I share my failures and foibles - I have repented of much of what I share. I don't share this journal as an exemplar, but rather out of the desire to share my hope that entrance to motherhood does not need to be a fearful thing - despite the very real fears I have fought against. Motherhood is simply a part of life and one through which I am discovering more of myself and my God. Archives
May 2017
Categories
All
|