Wednesday, May 23, 2012

The Maturity of Silence



Some of us have a lot to say. It's not that we have hoards of advice to give, it's that we think so much that we feel the need to think out loud. It drives my husband nuts. At first, he thought that everything I said was a conclusion of a well thought out idea. Not so. In fact, my rambling is usually the process of working through an idea, exploring all sides and leaving opportunity for his input. Eventually, I come to a conclusion or opinion, all the while sending listeners to the moon and back with a migraine. People like my husband, do much thinking, but not aloud. They carefully and privately work through ideas, as we (the ramblers) ask them for the third time, where the car keys are or what they think of our new shoes. They sometimes appear slow and stupid, but really, they are preventing the inevitable label of being impetuous that I often earn. I have learned to count to five after asking Guy a question to give him time to finish his important thought before responding to me. I appreciate it now. Loading...loading...

Learning the art of silence is very difficult. It's often out there before I think to reel it in. It is something I am working toward and want very much to master. There is a time and place for ramblers to indulge in a word marathon and I believe it is best to save it as a response to a direct question...not after someone makes a statement and I assume they want to know my opinion on the matter. Even still, I try to give short responses to questions and only expand on the matter if I am invited to by a second question. Then, I am pretty sure they are not forming their shopping list while I am talking...sounding like the adults in the Peanuts cartoons.

Some of the most admired people I can think of are the quieter ones...like my Mom, my husband, my dog and Mr. Bean. 

I have been learning a lot lately from Dr. Paul Tripp on the topic of words. Silence allows me to let go of the need to control a conversation, trust God with the outcome and save my words for the benefit of someone else. It also makes you look really mature...whether you are or not. I thought I would share a clip on the topic:



Now blogging, on the other hand, doesn't count because all anyone can hear is my clicking of the keys and Il Divo singing in the background. Plus, the beloved delete button has saved a reputation many a time.

That's all I have to say about the matter...thanks for asking :)


Saturday, May 19, 2012

Whopper of a Week

May has to be the busiest month of the year here at the Myers Farm...or Myers Academy...or the Myers Institution for the Mentally Unstable. Call it what you may, it was MAYhem this week. Actually, no one was injured except maybe my pride for not keeping up with Martha Stewart in the "beautiful home" category. Doing Sunday dishes on Wednesday can be really hard on the ole' homemaker ego...and that's after the men in the family already did some! My stress fractured foot is aching a bit...supposed to be resting and healing...hahahaha. It will be my excuse to sit and paint a lot in the near future. The twisted truth about the matter is that in the midst of the whole drama, I realized something. I liked it.

It is a reluctant confession, nonetheless it is the truth. After getting 3 history projects packed in the van, lunches for 5 made and hygiene checks all around and then spending the afternoon with 15ish teenagers, trying to teach about our 22 fascinating Prime Ministers, it was 4:00pm...very late for afternoon coffee. As I lifted the cup of grace and pleasure to my lips, the truth hit me...I enjoyed the activity. I didn't enjoy misplacing the tape and scissors every 5 minutes as the projects were madly reassembled, nor trying to stop my bleeding fingers (scissor confrontation) from messing the church floor as I carried project displays and a foam igloo under my arms into the foyer. My empathetic, fellow homeschool mom rescued me with baindaids before I got the request out of my mouth...and any blood on the brand new flooring. However, I did enjoy the activity. There is great pleasure in doing something different and productive. In between the two school fair appointments that day, my four male, teenage companions and I made a visit to a special friend, delivered 15 dozen eggs, picked up a few groceries and grabbed a Whopper at Burger King...rare treat for Mom. Why do I get such a rush out of packing huge amounts of activity into a small frame of time?! 

On the other hand, trying to pack huge amounts of information into my brain in a small frame of time makes me bust my buttons, turn green and want to throw people long distances. I like to think, mind you, just at my own pace and at my own convenience...don't push the thinking buttons. The physical pace was at a high this week...and that's OK with me. I wouldn't want to do it every week though. The day before this one had me working an election poll for 12 hours and the day after, I was privileged to join in the "March For Life" event in our capital city and enjoy a visit with my parents. Needless to say, I crashed somewhat in the middle of it all, just enough to get me through to Friday. I am not 20 years old anymore. 
The concentration of activity for the next two weeks is uncertain, but if I can get through this week, I can get through anything. Hopefully, I will be reporting lots of hanging laundry in the sun, school paperwork neatly prepared and no throbbing in my foot. This activity junkie could use a little slow motion for awhile...a short while :)

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

No Capes Please


I know it's not true, but I feel like a terrible mother tonight. My house is messy, I forgot to make son #3 brush his teeth before he went to bed, my oldest should probably be doing more school work this evening, and I just can't seem to remember all the things I'm supposed to remind them to finish today...and I just don't care. That's the worst part. My little mind is aching and leaking. It's a traffic jam in there with honking horns, anxious drivers and lights flashing everywhere. I don't even know if I'm going in the right direction either. So, I stall. I just pull over to the side of the road, turn off the radio and the engine...and just sit. All of the commotion before my eyes and ears passes by, ignored. It's like  when someone has the TV remote and is quickly flipping through the channels...about 100 of them...and never stays on one long enough to actually get a story. Just flipping. Aimlessly flipping.
There are energetic, confident moments and then there are moments like these, when I want to hand God the keys and say "You drive for awhile...I need a nap...or a vacation...or a straight jacket". I take great comfort in the knowledge of the fact that the world will not fall apart even if I do for a moment or two. I'm sure other people have much crazier lives than I do, so why should I feel this way? It'll be totally different in the morning. I really should just skip evenings. 

It's OK though. I have coping skills. I don't panic anymore. Been here enough to know how things go. Put kids to bed...put earphones on with "truth tunes"...stare at the mountain in my backyard with sun setting behind it...remember who is in control and will rise the sun again in the morning. Pray for my friends who have it worse tonight...and I know it. Pull out a black leather jacket and a Popeye Cigarette and pretend I'm a rebel. Rebel against thinking I have to perfect...again. Let His grace flow and do what it is meant to do...cover me.

It's so funny how some people think that being a Christian means rules, regulations, legalism and slavery. It's just the opposite. Accepting Jesus and His rulership in my life allows me to throw off my tendency toward perfectionism and focus on His. Eventually, He'll help me get it right. No need to rush and panic. He's got me covered.

Sure, mothers are wonderful, but we are so desperately human too....some of us a little more desperate than others. Desperately needing my heavenly Father's wisdom, patience and power...which He gives generously. It is sometimes difficult to accept the responsibility that goes along with motherhood, but I want no other job. Things aren't always as peachy as they appear with us moms. It would be much easier if we didn't love our kids so darned much. It's part of the potion that drives our desire to do the job well and the curse that makes it so difficult too.

Receiving all the glory and gifts on Mothers Day is awkward when you feel this way. I sometimes want to throw off my cape and yell "I'm not who you think I am! Give these gifts to Mrs.Duggar, or Mrs.Tebow!" Although, I'm pretty sure they would know exactly what I'm talking about too. But, we humbly accept them as acts of love from our sweet  little bundles of total depravity and thank God for their hugs.

I am a mom because God made me one...not because I'm so gifted and qualified.
I'm still a little girl with fears and dreams.
There are no capes in my closet.
When I am weak...He is strong :)