Sunday, April 25, 2010

And Then We Were Five

One year ago, you entered our family.

Due to what would happen just days after your birth, I never did get around to writing your birth story.  And I'm not about to let the fact that you're the third, or that Mama nearly died when you were a leeetle baby, or any other reason keep you from having what Kelsey and Colton have - my candid record of just how you came into this world!

(As an aside; this is not in lieu of a birthday letter, because that is coming too - will be up before the week's end)

You were born on a Saturday.

The Wednesday prior, I had my 39 wk check-up, and just about cried in the doctor's office.  I'd had a few episodes of contractions and had signs of impending labor for weeks, yet had only made, maybe, .5 cm progress in 3wks.  We discussed induction at that appointment, but opted to wait and see if the doctor roughing me up a bit would suffice at getting you on your way out.  Later that night, it appeared that it was going to work.  I had contractions 5-8 minutes apart for HOURS and threw up my dinner before church due to the pains.  But it was all for naught.

On Thursday, Daddy and I walked, and walked, and walked, among other things, but uh, you probably don't want to think about that!  And I contracted, but nothing regularly.  By day's end, we'd called the doctor's office and scheduled your eviction.  We would induce on the morning of Saturday, April 25th.  You were "due" on Monday the 27th, but our doctor was sympathetic to our plight.

I nested all day Friday with Daddy's help.  The excitement built.  It was so different.  With your sister, I went in with complications and we had a medically necessitated induction.  With your brother, he poked a hole in his bag of water somewhat early but then had second thoughts about coming out.  With you, we picked the day and knew you'd be here that day.


On the big day, knowing that we were headed to the hospital to meet you, I got up, showered, and put make-up on.  I told Daddy that since I knew what the drill was and hadn't with your siblings, I figured at least my "just delivered" pictures with you should at least be pretty!  I asked him if he thought that was silly or vain, and lucky for him, he assured me that he thought it was perfectly rational and understandable.  It was his third time around the pregnancy block, he knew that hormones needed appeased by now!

Nana and Papa had come up and stayed the night with Kelsey and Colton, so we said goodbye and took a picture before leaving.

Daddy and I drove to the new hospital in which you were born and wondered aloud how things would go.

We checked in at 7:00 am.

After paperwork, undressing, getting hooked up and all the other rigamarole that is hospital admissions, it was about 9:30am before the pitocin began to pump.

The doctor on call was not my normal doctor, but she was ok.  We didn't really see so much of her as we did of Brenda, the amazing L&D nurse we were assigned for the duration of the induction.

Nana and Papa came in (they'd gone to a health fair with the other kids), and soon Grammy and Gramps followed.  We watched tv and played games.  Kelsey left to go to a friends' birthday party in the area.

Around noon, the doctor came in and asked how I was feeling.  Pretty decent, I told her - the contractions were really not bad.  She frowned at that and told me she'd hoped to hear that I was starting to get uncomfortable by now.

At 3:00, I was starting to really feel the contractions and was breathing thru them rather than just riding them.  I'd told Brenda how with Colton I fought the pain for so long, avoiding the epidural because I was progressing slowly and I feared stalling once an epidural was administered, yet once I finally had gotten the epidural, I went from 4-10 in an hour and a half.  It was at this point that she reminded me of this, as well as the fact that since I had low blood pressure, I would have to take IV fluids prior to an epidural being administered (to avoid me passing out as BP dips with an epi) and that would take a minimum of 45 minutes.  She encouraged me to stay ahead of my pain, and not let it go to a point that that 45 minutes of IV would be too much.

The doctor came and checked me, and I had gone to 3 cm, I'd walked in at 2.5 cm, in the 5 1/2 hours of pitocin.

Brenda's words won out.

I got the IV, and at 4:15, my epidural was administered.  They broke my water at that point, and I immediately dilated to 4 cm.

4:55 - check, great news, you're at 7! 

Before Brenda got to input the data from the doctor's examination into the computer, I told her that I was feeling a lot of pressure.  And that was because in just 2 seconds* I was at 8.  She was going to call the doctor back in, because she had a feeling I was going to go fast from here.

* that's what it felt like anyway.

Sure enough, I was at 10 before the doctor's equipment was fully laid out.

Your heart rate had some decelerations during the peak of the contractions leading up to this point, and after I began pushing, the doctor and Brenda exchanged a Look that frightened me.

"Heather, you need to push this baby out as fast as you can, ok?" ordered the doc.  "This is baby number 3 and should be old hat."

I pushed, 3, maybe 4 times? 

You crowned and there was a hush in the room.

And then you were out.  It was almost effortless, which seems an oxymoron for any labor.

But it the triumph of an easy delivery was overtaken by the fact that my baby was silent.

My heart palpitated in limbo.

Why isn't he crying?  Why isn't my baby crying?!?  C'mon baby, just cry!

They took you away and rubbed you and spanked you and suctioned when, F.I.N.A.L.L.Y. you cried.

I realized I'd been holding my breath.  My heart surged with joy.  The endorphins pushed play from their paused state and my body buzzed with elation and fatigue.  I looked over at your Daddy and we cried.

At last, they placed you on my chest, and I kissed your face.  You shivered and trembled on my torso as I too became wracked with tremors.  You were devoid of the waxy vernix and carried the rusty musky scent of the sanguine birthing fluids you'd just bathed in.  You had so much hair, and clearly red hair at that too.  The wives tale about heart burn held true on this one!

Your skin was so dry in appearance, cracked and flaking off with scratches everywhere.  We'd find out later that your appearance was that of a post-term baby - so who knows if you were actually overdue or if I just cooked you a little warmer than appropriate?
The doctor questioned how I felt, and I told her that I felt great - that it was the easiest birth yet and of course it was great to be holding the prize at long last :).  She told me that a lot of women hated people like me, that she didn't just mean the easy birthing part, but that she bet you were over 9lbs and here I was saying it was easy.  I thought she was off her rocker because you seemed small-average to me.  We have this on video tape, too.  Which is funny because she was way off - you weighed in at 7 lbs 2oz.

You did give us a scare though, the heart rate decelerations were because you had your cord around your neck twice and also around your chest and tucked up under your armpit.  Your early APGARs were low, but the second ones were good, thankfully.

You nursed like a champ when we got to it, which was when Kelsey and Colton came in to meet you.  And your grandpas, and uncles, etc.  Grammy and Nana were in the room at your delivery, so they let everyone get a good look at you before they held you.

Kelsey gave you your first bath, with the aid of the nurse.  And, while I was already in love with you, it was breathtaking to see her give her heart to you in those moments.

Colton's "moment" came with you the next day.


You captured our hearts forever on the day you were born.

From thenceforth, we were five.

Happy Birthday Christopher.

 




© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Friday, April 23, 2010

His Only Redeeming Quality


This is Porter.

He is our 2 1/2 y/o, balls still intact (hopefully not for long, however, muahaha), springer spaniel.  He is a PAIN. in. the. :insert word of your choice here:.

I've written about him before.  And never very lovingly, because I TRULY hate this dog about 99.9% of the time.

And I'm a dog kind of gal, really.  I love my Gracie girl.
She is mature, well trained, and docile to a fault.

Porter is like a doggy version of Cornholio. (On a particularly unrelated sidenote: Kelsey has recently taken to wearing her shirts over her head a la Cornholio, though she is totally ignorant of the significance, and it has caused me moments of great comedic relief)He is manic, has no spatial awareness (the dog steps in his own crap in the yard when there is just ONE pile - every other dog I've ever known will step around, regardless of speed), poor table manners and is generally sociopathic.

Lately, he's taken to flying out the door as an introduction to the dog equivalent of a high speed chase.  Only I'm usually barefoot, wearing flip flops, or dealing with some other major speed obstruction, which makes it more like a tank chasing some dude on a crotch rocket.  Yeah, that's fair!  And this is, without fail, always, ALWAYS (why yes, it isterribly redundant to precede two, increasingly emphatic always' with the words "without fail," but you see, I am trying to make. a. point. here!) Right. Before. We. Must. Leave.  Whether we are seconds from dashing to the bus stop or about to load into the car, invariably these are the times when the door gets opened by one of my errant children, and Porter makes his break.  And, some 15-20 minutes later, adrenaline coursing thru my veins by way of unadulterated FURY, I am finally able to return with my vagrant canine.  And inevitably late.

These escapades have me feeling even less love toward my wayward mutt.

But last night, while cooking dinner, I caught a brief glimpse of affinity for him in the back of my mind.

Christopher was giggling, those baby belly laughs that make everything in the world stop, and I stood, transfixed, as I watched my baby claw, pull hair, bite, and lay on this dog whom I loathe.  Porter just layed there and took it, with a twinkle in his eye and an occasional lick to renew the gusto with which Christopher played.

Porter is not my dog.  Nor is he Seth's.  No, we got him because he was meant for Christopher.

Thus, like a mother-in-law, I love Porter because my son loves him and is made happy by him.

(Aaaargh...would insert a melt-your-heart picture of Chris w/Porter here but it is on my Laptop's harddrive, and Laptop died this weekend!!!)


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

How Blogging Made Me a Superhero to My Son

So, I've been trying to get back into serious blogging, right?  And jump into commercial blogging for the first time ever (after 4 years).

This means lots of social networking (which I've been very slow at - how do people with kids do this?) and commenting/participating on other blogs and giveaways.

When my dear bloggy friend Piper had a giveaway last week for the video game of How to Train Your Dragon, I decided to bite and play along.

Colton walked in the bedroom door just as I was leaving my comment - and wanted to know immediately what I was doing.  I explained that I'd entered a contest and that I could but no guarantees that I would win a free video game of HTTYD.

Every day thereafter, he has asked me, "Did you check the mail?"  Followed by, "So did our game come?"  Son, apparently we need to talk about probability and the meaning of the word could.

But, his positive thinking apparently paid off because we did in fact win a video game!

And now, he's like, "So Mama, are there any more contests you can sign us up for?"



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Brain Dump - Intimacy

It's been FAR. TOO. LONG since I last blogged, and that was such a downer of a post I left y'all with too, huh?

I have a BUNCH of things that I have been meaning to put into well-thought, organized, themed posts, but I fear these thoughts may wind up lost so I'm dumping them into one tangential, rambly, brain-dump of a post.  Y'all will still love me anyway, right?

1.  Re: Intimacy
There are a few things to say here, the very first of which is to say that things here are reliable, they are okay, and consistent.  And my post last Tuesday was not to say that there is a lack of fire or desire, but rather that my... er... appetite... has increased, and not been completely satiated of late, which has left me wanting more, and to address that would require a change.  And change is hard, particularly change that is communicative in nature.

We've been attending a Song of Solomon class at our church on Wednesday nights this quarter.  It's not our first trip thru this video class with Mr. Tommy Nelson, but the third time in 13 years that we have gone through it.  It's THAT good!  Last week's class was on the wedding night (Chapter 4-5:1) and the thing that hit me squarely in the heart is how tender the man is and how much he expresses to his wife what her body does for him (flock of goats vernacular aside, when decoded it is quite erotic and very to the point).  And this is not a cheap, trashy romance novel, filling women's heads with some unattainable image of Prince Charming who is so romantic, THIS IS THE WORD OF GOD!!!  Meaning, God knew that women needed reassured by their spouses that they are in fact beautiful, so he devoted a whole book in the Bible filled with examples of a godly man doing so.  Someone made the point that a woman is very vulnerable when sharing her naked body with a man for the first time, and thus a man ought to honor that and reassure her with his realization that she is sharing her greatest treasure with him.  And I agree.  BUT....and this will give you a peek into my heart's struggles, I contend that a woman is vulnerable EVERY time she is naked (or nearly so while wearing some gauzy/lacy/fill-in-the-blank underpinning designed solely for her husband's eyes) particularly after the effects of gravity and/or childbearing have taken some toll on her body, and especially when she's worked her tail off to reverse some of those tolls and taken care to showcase them in the bedroom.  :ahem:

When such efforts seem to be taken for granted, or not even to make a difference, insecurities begin to creep in.  And so, if there are any men reading this, here's your homework: Tell your wife what her body does for you.  Even if she's on the saggy and baggy side of things, if you tell her that you love that her belly is where she housed your children and from where her greatest gifts to you came, it is appreciation and some affirmation.

Finally, our weekend away in Estes Park was Awe.Some.
We were surrounded by some of God's great creationary beauty
great lodging
fabulous friends
and had some really good, thought provoking teaching and discussions about our relationships with each other.  I treasured the break out session for spouses to cover their personal Top 5s from His Needs Her Needs (disclaimer - I think that the needs, as laid out in the book, are fairly gender stereotyped, but the exercise we did let us personalize them and rank them for ourselves...my top 3 was typically a "male" need, lol), which was not new to us (having done a Dynamic Marriage course in 2005) but needs change as your environment does and it had been awhile since we'd "checked in," with each other on this.  It also gave me the ability to share some of what I wrote above with Seth in a relevant, intimate, and non-hostile context/setting.

Hmmm...well on second thought, this looks like a singular post rather tied up on intimacy, no?  I guess the other stuff will have to wait.  That's it for me now.


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Circular Arguments



Scene:

Casa del Meyer living room, after children have been put to rest for the night.

Book from the library, with a rather pointed title, pointing to the same issue which the Missus has made several passing comments about over the past month, which has really been an off and on again issue since Christopher's birth, lays on the coffee table.

Me: So, uh, I got this book [nods in direction of the coffee table] at the library yesterday.  I, uh, was looking for this other book and saw it, and thought it might be helpful in sparking some discussion, as my attempts to clearly have dead-ended.  I'm frustrated that we can't talk, constructively, about this issue and well, I thought maybe we could read the book together?

Seth: Well, uh, I'm not really a book kinda guy.

Me: I'm aware, but I'm asking you to be.  Or to at least dialogue with me about the issue.

Silence.

More Silence.

I open my mouth to say something.  But don't - the air catches in my throat.  A few times.

Then.

Me: See?!?  That's what I'm talking about!  I'm trying to go about this the "right" way [this is replete with air quotes from me because I'm really frustrated at the lack of dialogue when I've tried to initiate conversations on the subject several times before and this is just turning out to be an encore performance] and you still won't talk, or even acknowledge that you might, someday, eventually talk with me about this.

Seth: Well, I don't really get the big deal.  And., it's not really very fair to me that you stew all day or all week, or what have you about whatever the issue of the day is and then I have to have all the answers for you the minute you want to talk about it.

Me: I don't really see that it's me stewing about it when I ask you to think about it and we can discuss at a later time, but hey, that's just me.

More words are said, but I go to bed feeling defeated.

And more unattractive and undesirable than ever.

Because really, should it be this hard [sorry, double entendre there] difficult?

A few days later.

Me: So, I get that you're not a book guy, and I said that's cool, if we can at least talk about it, and I was wondering if you will talk with me now?

Lather, rinse, repeat.

I do not feel that the issue, which is not a make-the-marriage-or-break-it issue [right now] but is nonetheless important to me, is resolved.  In fact, it just makes me feel as if anytime I bring an issue to light, need not be this issue per se, and get the ole "I haven't had time to think about it," response that basically means we will be fighting the same circular arguments thru time immemorial. We really are doing pretty good with each other, but I feel like this is foundational erosion and we need to be on guard.

And it makes me feel disconnected from my husband.

And not pretty/attractive/desirable/feminine despite significant efforts :ahem, 40 lbs and counting! weight loss: over the past year to be those things.

And disregarded - that I have had the willingness to make myself vulnerable and share my heart with him, and he has, in essence, ignored me.

I am fairly certain like 99% sure that his disinterest is not due to the same things it has been in the past - which is a huge blessing - but this unwillingness to change the tides is really frustrating.

Especially since I'm peaking, so to speak.  :blush: 

In the meantime, we do have a retreat we're going to, sans kids, this weekend in beautiful Estes Park - so maybe there will be sparks in the free time we have ;)



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Monday, April 12, 2010

Heavy Hearted

How do we see horrible things such as the African children who are dying, and within hours continue with our lives, complaining that we don't "enough," as defined by the American way of life?  It's only money and a ranking of creditworthiness, it's not like you are watching your children starve to death while you have nothing to combat it with.

How do we hear that a friend of our brother's was found by his wife with a bullet in his head, put there by himself, and within hours resume a marital spat that began earlier in the day?  At least you still have your husband, with whom to argue.

How do our children see someone else exclude another child and feel comfortable not saying anything to either party, within hours saying, "Well I didn't lock her out?"  No, but you didn't let her back in either.

How did two men, charged with doing God's work as their livelihoods, pass by one of their own, injured on a stranded highway?  How was it that an outsider was the one who did right?

"A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. 31A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. 32So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 34He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him. 35The next day he took out two silver coins[c] and gave them to the innkeeper. 'Look after him,' he said, 'and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.'

It's the human condition, I fear, to come back to self and attempt to preserve self, at the cost of others often.

Trying not to be that way....


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Friday, April 9, 2010

Catch Up and Keep Up

When I worked for Neighboring City, my office had just had a Housing Needs Assessment done, particularly focusing on supply and demand of housing that was affordable to households earning 80% or less of the area median income.  One of the things the consultant who conducted the needs assessment created was a schedule to catch up the housing stock needed at certain price points (with which the city was to incent developers to create) as well as keep up with projected demands based on industries that were growing, etc.

It was scintillating reading.  Or maybe scintillating is in the eye of the beholder.

All of that to say I'm in need of a lot of catching up and keeping up myself.

Household chore wise - ha!  I've never gotten to where I feel "caught up" for very long, much less kept it up for any period of time.  Suffice to say with me being sick last week, and the kids having been out of school, that things are bit behind right now, and I'm slowly digging out.

Financially - this is the hard, gut-wrenching part for us. 

We've been in a constant struggle for just at a year now and it's wearing.  A year ago, I was just about to have Christopher and Seth's work had been through a slow spell which left us juggling a bit.  Then we had Chris, Seth took one week of unpaid leave, and two weeks later, I had my 12 day stint at the hospital.  Well, then we were REALLY strapped, and that was just with our regular bills. 

The medical debt hadn't started to hit yet.

Our church helped substantially, which helped us steady ourselves and gain some composure.  We submitted a claim to AFLAC for both the birth and my subsequent hospitalization.

But, as things trickled in, as it took several months for all of the medical bills to make themselves known, it became clear that it wasn't enough.  We called several of the first creditors we had and tried to make payment arrangements as best we could.  Some wanted their money in total by 4 months, others would spread it out a year, and so on.  But we didn't end up calling all of our creditors and making payment arrangements, because quite honestly, there was no more money in the month to give in the way of payment installments.

In October, we used Seth's annual bonus to catch things up, both domestic and medical.

By November, we needed help again, and we borrowed against Seth's 401k plan.  We paid my surgical bill off completely and once again caught up on the priority bills; mortgage, car, doctors, insurance.

We hadn't made a payment on our Home Depot account in quite some time, and those medical creditors with whom we'd never made payment arrangements sent us to collections.  But what could I tell them, "Gee, I know we owe you money, but we have to pay this stuff down before we can pay you because we just don't have it right now?"  Yeah, that's gonna go over well.  And, as soon as those things wound up in collections, we got a note from our auto insurance that basically said,
Since your credit now sucks balls, we're afraid you're not going to pay us 1.) in a timely fashion or 2.) ever again.  Therefore, your monthly payment is going UP $40/month because we believe in the tool known as the self-fulfilling prophecy.  Good day!

We attempted Christmas gifts for everyone - mostly on the cheap and homemade end - but perhaps we shouldn't have.

Because at this time, we got behind on our mortgage for the first time in all of this, and then everything has seemed to spiral out since. 

Our [sizable] tax refund came and went - going to tie up medical debts (paid off my OBGYN, paid off the hospital, paid off some other doctor's fees), a large payment to Home Depot (they'd made an offer to us of making a "matching payment" on our account if we could pay $x), two mortgage payments, utility catch up, etc.

I started talking to our mortgage lender about a modification and have been working on getting all of the documentation together for it. 

And putting numbers down on the paper, I now see why we haven't been able to stay afloat:  We have more expenses than income.  And by quite a lot.

It's hard, because now we're to the point of looking at another 401k loan, to catch up.  And the AFLAC claim hadn't paid out properly, so we're waiting on a copy of my surgical report to send to them, which will trigger an additional payment to us.

To keep up we're hoping the mortgage loan modification goes through and that we'll be able to allocate some of what was going to the mortgage amount to our medical debts and eventually pay them off. 

Our health insurance premium is going up another $100/month due to "increased costs in healthcare overall."

It just sucks. 

My husband works his tail off to provide for us, 50+ hours a week of physically and mentally demanding work - and he makes decent enough money.  I cut costs where ever possible, and we do not live an extravagant lifestyle.  I mean, I've taken to baking our breads (including hamburger buns) and making our own laundry detergent to pinch pennies!  And yet we struggle through.  We're not "poor" enough to be eligible for any kind of assistance (though I just discovered we may be eligible to get the kids on a state health care program, which could decrease our health premium - which is killing us, but you can't not have insurance these days) and yet we certainly aren't rich by any stretch of the word.

We have some toys, the motocross bikes and gear, that if worse came to worse, could probably be sold, though the "cost" of my kids and husband losing their main recreational outlet would be pretty large.  But really, there's not a lot to just liquidate of value around our house.  Our computer is old.  Our TV, though a flat screen and of decent size, is dated (it's 4 yrs old now I think) and not competitive with what is available at the big-box stores.

What do y'all do to cut costs?



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Monday, April 5, 2010

Things That Do *NOT* Happen When Mama Gets Sick



Easter 2010 was more than a little "off" at Casa del Meyer this year.

For starters, we definitely were NOT so broke that we neglected to even dye eggs this year, let alone do any of the other fluffy Easter traditions that have nothing to do with Christ's resurrection.  And we surely didn't avoid addressing the kids about this breach in custom, only to eventually give a lame talk on how even the Easter Bunny is cutting back these days.  We would NEVER be anything but upfront with our kids!

Yesterday, I did NOT wake with a gurgling in my tummy at 5:45am.  I did NOT roll over and panic that I had to wake Seth so he could ensure that Christopher didn't wake and roll out of our bed - because our baby is almost 1 and he definitely is past the whole waking-in-the-middle-of-the-night-because-I-can-only-get-to-sleep-and-stay-asleep-in-Mama's-arms thing.

Seth did NOT play possum as I frantically tried to wake him while willing my stomach contents to stay put, because he's a great husband who knows that I wouldn't wake him at o'dark-thirty for just any ole reason!  When he did finally, reluctantly, arouse his senses, he did NOT snap at me and roar, "What are you doing?" because, well see the previous statement about what kind of husband he is.

I then rushed to the bathroom.  And again an hour later.

Around 7:30, Colton came in and they were watching cartoons.  I did NOT nag them that they ought to be getting ready for church (9:00 classes!).  They did NOT bounce on the bed, knowing that I was having GI distress, because I have more sensitive children than that!

I got sick once more.  Oy.

They left, and I slept.  The whole time they were gone.

At 12:30 they were home.  And they did NOT wake me up to announce they were home.

Seth did NOT obliviously hand me a poopy Christopher and ask, "Can he lay down with you?"  Because he has a sense of smell, last I checked, and he would really be more sensitive than that, now wouldn't he?  So I did NOT get up and change the baby, because there would be no need for me to do such work when I was so ill seeing as how attentive and others-focused my family is, only to be faced with that familiar gurgling.

I did NOT have to shove Colton out of the way on my way up the stairs, because he totally heard me when I said, "Move!"

I slept more - until about 4:00, when Seth really needed a reprieve from Christopher and asked if I could get him to take a nap.  Which I did.  He did NOT only take a 25 minute nap, however, because he is an intuitive kid and usually knows when we really need a break.

I did NOT go downstairs and see our living room and kitchen in complete disarray, because the kids and Seth knew that I couldn't tend to it all today.

Mamas do NOT get sick days, do we?


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Friday, April 2, 2010

It's Good Friday, Y'all

And I didn't get a Foodie Friday put together for this week since the kids were on Spring Break.  And hoo boy, am I tired!  Three kids all day every day is serious work!

And laying all of that aside, today is a day of remembrance for me and my fellow Christ followers. 

I have been meditating on the 53rd chapter of Isaiah today, and have much to say about it, but lack the time - so I'm just gonna put it up for your reading pleasure.  I really like the Message's paraphrase, so that's what you get, with my emphases.

1 Who believes what we've heard and seen? Who would have thought God's saving power would look like this?
 2-6The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling,
   a scrubby plant in a parched field.
There was nothing attractive about him,
   nothing to cause us to take a second look.
He was looked down on and passed over,
   a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.
One look at him and people turned away.
   We looked down on him, thought he was scum.
But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—
   our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.
We thought he brought it on himself,
   that God was punishing him for his own failures.
But it was our sins that did that to him,
   that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins!
He took the punishment, and that made us whole.
   Through his bruises we get healed.
We're all like sheep who've wandered off and gotten lost.
   We've all done our own thing, gone our own way.
And God has piled all our sins, everything we've done wrong,
   on him, on him.
 7-9He was beaten, he was tortured,
   but he didn't say a word.
Like a lamb taken to be slaughtered
   and like a sheep being sheared,
   he took it all in silence.
Justice miscarried, and he was led off—
   and did anyone really know what was happening?
He died without a thought for his own welfare,
   beaten bloody for the sins of my people
.
They buried him with the wicked,
   threw him in a grave with a rich man,
Even though he'd never hurt a soul
   or said one word that wasn't true.
 10Still, it's what God had in mind all along,
   to crush him with pain.
The plan was that he give himself as an offering for sin
   so that he'd see life come from it—life, life, and more life.
   And God's plan will deeply prosper through him.
 11-12Out of that terrible travail of soul,
   he'll see that it's worth it and be glad he did it.
Through what he experienced, my righteous one, my servant,
   will make many "righteous ones,"

   as he himself carries the burden of their sins.
Therefore I'll reward him extravagantly—
   the best of everything, the highest honors—
Because he looked death in the face and didn't flinch,
   because he embraced the company of the lowest.
He took on his own shoulders the sin of the many,
   he took up the cause of all the black sheep.



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, April 1, 2010

I'm Writing This Without a Pinkie

Or at least I ought to be.

I promised you some of the conclusions I'd drawn re:my recent funk, or at least the now conscious awareness of things that likely will never resolve, so here goes.

1.)  The whole serving the poor, social justice thing is not just about helping others. 

But, it is not necessarily all about me feeding my ego and deriving fulfillment and self-worth from it, either. 

The first one is what I clung to when I was more married to my work than to my family, and yet the second premise is what many women at church saw in me while I was working.  Some called me on it, and it used to make me so very angry - I felt judged for wanting to use talents for a godly cause simply because I happened to collect a paycheck for it. 

It was a blindspot of sorts, because I was rather liking the feedback of doing good and important things.

So the truth of the matter is that this drive in me is complex and fueled by a number of motivations, all of which I can now admit to and accept.  Period.  After all, do we censure men who get a lot of fulfillment and self-identity from their careers, be they turning wrenches, crunching numbers or leading societal missions?

2.) I'm not dissing on SAHMotherhood by having these convictions to do more.


I realize that my impact on the world is not just what I myself do, but what I teach my children to do as well. 

I get that, and understand that fully.  Which is part of why I feel a need to find a way to do more for others rather than just our family, because if I model living a life where we simply take care of our own, what are my children likely to do?

Exactly:  lather, rinse, repeat.  And so a cycle of insular living is perpetuated.

3.) Spiritual implications....

I was pretty convicted by the scriptures in our class Sunday.

...true religion is this, caring for the widows and the orphans....

...but Lord, when did we see you thirsty?...naked?...hungry?...

And so on. 

But that's not to say that doing kind things for the poor is what saves us.

And it's not to say that everybody is going to be called to or led to ministry to the poor.  Ya know the whole which part of the body of Christ are you, and not making everyone into the SAME person/part, right?

But I ought to evaluate where I am laying up my treasures.  And where I have become complacent.

And, there's still more....but kid duties call.....




© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved