Post Category → faith

counting joys

When the alarm went off, I was already exhausted. It was one of those days.

Several hours later, several loads of laundry had been cycled, lists of errands and to-dos and must-pack items had been made, the house had been pulled together after a very busy Sunday, the boys were dressed and even looking cute, and I’d found every return and receipt I needed. We all headed out to the van, got buckled in, and — nothing. The car wouldn’t start. As Ryan was discovering this fact, I tripped on an uneven brick and twisted my ankle (but did not drop the baby: points for me.)

I calmly collected the kids and got started on a Christmas craft instead.

Ha! Nope, that’s not true, actually.

I quietly got the kids out of the car and waved to Ryan as he set out (on foot) to work, but inside I was seething. I could tell a volcanic eruption was near. I was thinking something along the lines of, I don’t know WHOSE IDEA OF A JOKE THIS IS, BUT IT’S NOT FUNNY!!

I stood on the stoop with bags in hand, a three year old asking repeatedly, “What are we doing now, Mama?”, and a teething baby crying and clawing at my legs, and I suddenly remembered James 1.

Count it all joy…

And I know that a spoiled morning doesn’t compare with a lot of other trials and tribulations, not even close. But I do know that these everyday furnaces test us and try us and prepare us — if we let them.

Would I let it?

In tears, I managed to say, out loud, “Thank you, Lord, for this opportunity to grow in patience and trust in You.”

(Naturally, Jameson asked who I was talking to, why I was crying, and when lunch would be ready. This is the current soundtrack of my life, and someday I’ll miss it.)

Since that morning crisis, the day has continued in the same pattern. (I was hoping that a quick response to the Holy Spirit’s promptings would usher me into a few hours of ease and happiness, but not this time, I guess.) William has cried all day. He pinches my skin when he nurses, and I’ve almost lost it a couple times. Jameson has been a peach, but an energetic one. None of my lists have been touched, and if that weren’t overwhelming enough, that awful devil has started in with nagging thoughts about how filthy the kitchen floor is and what a lousy housekeeper I am.

It’s that sort of day.

It feels unproductive. No, make that counterproductive.

But that’s not the whole story.

The Bible says that even this sort of day can be hugely productive, if I “let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

And so.

So I repent, repent, repent. I cry out for Jesus over and over and over. And I count even this crisis of the soul as joy, knowing that the testing of my faith produces endurance.

Some things just don’t come easy, but faith that endures is worth the pain.

sowing.

I love to find beauty in my days. I love to notice little moments of loveliness that might easily be rushed right past and forgotten. I work hard to make each moment something — books, crafts, chores with Mama, candles at supper, clean pj’s, tickles and kisses on bare bellies. Those things are little seeds.

There are some hours, even days, when it’s harder to see life as beautiful, as sowing seeds. And when life is less than beautiful, I find it hard to not blame myself for failing. When there is an hour of repeated blatant disobedience and a baby crying hysterically in the background, and two parents are finding it hard to not lose it in the emotional pressure-cooker of the moment, I most likely am thinking, “This is awful. What am I doing wrong?”

Sometimes? Nothing.

Why does it surprise me, when I live with three sinners (plus the one within), that there are messy hours? When these darling little babes are born into the world as haters of God, rebels from the get-go, why does it surprise me that faithful parenting sometimes means coming face to face with sin’s ugliness?

That awful hour of tried patience, multiple offenses and meted consequences, crying baby and general upheaval — is that any less sowing seeds than the quieter hours of reading and singing and dusting? In the midst of that chaos, isn’t it possible for me to hear a whisper of commendation: “Keep up the faithfulness; you’re doing great”?

From the right perspective, isn’t it even possible for me to see something beautiful — to see that my little men are having seeds of righteousness planted in their hearts? To see young parents who know so little about grace and patience learning the ways of a perfect Father?

It may not be the most fun sowing — but it is sowing. Necessary and invaluable sowing.

And I don’t need to flog myself for having failed; I don’t need to feel like I’ve let God down. Sin coming to the surface — that’s part of His plan, and part of the crazy adventure called Family.

In fact, if I’ve failed at all, it’s because I’ve hated those moments and wished them gone instead of being glad that grace is at work. I, too, want to see beauty in the ugly.

sums.

Sometimes I find myself with a lull. Both boys are napping, and I just don’t feel like jumping right into household chores. Usually it’s because I’m super tired. So instead of working, I decide to ponder. (When you’re super tired, work is ALWAYS a better option than pondering.)

I ponder my current life. I contemplate how the weeks, days, hours are being spent. I reflect on the grand goal of my life — to glorify God — and visualize the trajectory of my actual life and the bulls eye of said goal.

You know where this is going, right?

Yeah. I come to the conclusion that I’m clearly way off the mark. I’m never going to hit it. How can

1. getting dressed
2. getting two more people dressed
3. helping my son make his bed and brush his teeth
4. nursing the hysterical baby
5. making pb&j
6. cleaning up the spilled milk
7. removing the pb&j plastered to little arms and hands and mouths
8. changing a diaper
9. reading a book
10. not losing my temper when my nose get bashed while little people get comfy for storytime
11. starting the book again
12. settling disputes over who touched who
13. taking care of the kid who disobeyed by not laying his head down
14. praying for the 3 year old as loudly as i can because the 1 year old has totally lost it
15. wiping the huge tears off chubby cheeks
16. nursing the baby to sleep
17. deciding to tackle the day’s demands (i.e. washing dishes, vacuuming, making dinner, folding laundry…)

amount to glorifying God??

I certainly don’t feel like I have to be living in Africa in a hut in order to be living a radical Christian life, but don’t I have to be doing more than the above? I’m suddenly panicking. How am I ever going to see the glory of God in my life doing this? I want my kids to know and love Jesus. I want the fruit of the Spirit to ooze out of me. I want our lives to be spent in service to the Church and the world around us. I DON’T SEE THIS ADDING UP!!

(I warned you, there’s panic involved.)

My head is hurting, trying to figure it out, trying to decide what radical thing I need to start doing in order to get a radical outcome. There are tears.

And then there’s a whisper:

Faithfulness.

Oh. I’ve heard this before. In fact, I’ve been here before. (Would you believe that young motherhood is NOT the first time I’ve found myself in a hum-drum sort of season? It’s true!)

Be faithful. Do what you know to do… faithfully.

And I suddenly realize what this is: a challenge to faithful sowing. Faithfulness is obviously a highly-valued attribute, but I forget that being faithful doesn’t necessarily mean doing some Really Big Hard Thing. It usually means doing Some Little Thing Every Single Day No Matter What. That’s what faithfulness means.

It means that even when I look at what I’ve accomplished today and some niggling little voice says, “Feel like a hamster in a wheel yet?”, I don’t cave. I don’t quit sowing these plain-jane little seeds in search of a huge glamorous job — because that would be unfaithful.

And it’s sowing those plain brown seeds with eyes of faith, knowing that there’s some sort of miracle inside that befuddles the human mind. It’s knowing that the sum is greater than its parts. It’s being content to just trust and obey.

“Trust in the LORD and do good;
Dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness.
Delight yourself in the LORD;
And He will give you the desires of your heart.
Commit your way to the LORD,
Trust also in Him, and He will do it.
He will bring forth your righteousness as the light
And your judgment as the noonday.”

“Do not be deceived, God is not mocked…” — psalm 37; galations 6

being family

It’s been more than four years since we said “I do”, started this crazy adventure of blending (and bending) and becoming a family. Four years later, it feels like we’re still just beginning to figure out who this family is — and it’s fun. It’s fun to learn each other, add a few kids, try something new, let something go. (The more I let go, the more we become something unique, fun, useful.)

It’s still funny to hear people say, “We’re going to the Dunphey’s;” I only see us as Ryan and Danica, with two kids, learning to be a family. What do we look like from the outside looking in? I have no idea. And I have no idea how long it will be before I answer the phone, “Hello, Dunphey’s,” the way my mom says “Sinclair’s,” and Judy says, “Tomford’s.” I have a feeling it will creep up on me while I’m learning the art of loving this husband, mothering these children, making this home.

All of that to say, Ryan decided several months ago that rather than buying a medium flat latte every single morning at Peet’s, he would buy an espresso machine. But of course, not a push-the-button espresso machine; we’re talking weigh the beans on a scale, change the grind for every new roast, precisely 30 pounds of pressure with a very nice tamp, set the timer, and pull that shot in exactly 27 seconds. (27? I think.) It’s his new hobby. He takes care of this stainless-steel machine like it’s his car, spit-shining and all. In the evening, when the boys are on their way to dreamland, he makes me a decaf latte. Can you say spoiled?

And all of that to say, we have a new Saturday morning tradition: homemade chocolate chip scones and lattes for breakfast. I light the candle, set the table, and we gather around a plate of warm yumminess while Ryan pulls shots, giving us nothing but the best. It’s slow. It’s crazy one minute and calm the next. Sometimes we’re showered and dressed for the day, sometimes it’s a pj party. Mostly, it’s just one little thing we do that helps us stop and say, hey! We’re a family!

(You’re welcome to drop by and join us, of course. Just let me know, and I’ll pop a few more scones into the oven!)

books: little heathens

Last spring, I finally got my hands on a book I’d been eyeing for awhile: Little Heathens: Hard Times and High Spirits on an Iowa Farm During the Great Depression. It’s an older woman’s memoir, and reading it was very much like sitting on a front porch, rocking alongside Mildred (the author) as she reminisced in a very prosaic, very simple way. I was completely charmed. What a fabulous window into a life I’ll never know.

Having her childhood memories tucked away was also fun when I later read Parenting by the Book, as John Rosemond refers regularly to “Grandma’s common sense” style of raising children. His reference was fresh in my mind, having just read about young children who knew how to work, respect, would never dream of throwing a tantrum, and loved life.

On the flip side, her story made me a bit sad and acutely aware of how completely dead the form of religion is. Her family had gone to church for generations, but by the time she and her siblings arrived on the scene, that was about all there was to their Christianity. Knowing how to tell the truth and work hard without complaint is nice, but knowing Jesus is even better.

(I’d like my kids to know both.)

thinking out loud

Thinking about:

— “For I am convinced…” (Romans 8.38)
— “…we overwhelmingly conquer.” (Romans 8.37)
— “Happy is the people…” (Psalm 144.5)

— About joy. About living out Good News. And how it boils down to this conviction — this being convinced — of God’s love. How that sense of being convinced needs to be my first response to life’s situations.

There are so many ups and downs — that’s just the way life is. But living Good News means that somehow my “downs” are framed by this joy, happiness, conquering, and conviction.

And I think that first response needs to be learned every day, a discipline of the soul. It won’t just appear on the day when my world gets turned upside down. My feet need to already be familiar with this Rock. I need to be well-practiced at choosing joy, being persuaded, living happy.

— Thinking that there’s a lot to all this. It’s a lot of work. And my soul isn’t always very responsive to disciplines. (Well, it is responsive. Digging in your heels and increasing your scowl is a response, I guess.)

— About how I’d rather be convinced of God’s love for me than sulk in my corner about how tired I am. Doesn’t that just sound much more fun? (God’s ideas are always the best ones, I tell ya.)