Minefield

Mostly, I go ok. Ish. But last night we didn't have a good nights sleep. So we are tired. And weary. It has been a week of firsts and new and change, and I just don't wanna anymore.

You think motherhood is babies, and reading stories, and talking to kids about flowers and animals, and yeah you know there will be rough stuff, like having to talk about sex, and hard friendship stuff, and toilet training, and sleepless nights. It's cuddles in bed, inhaling childish loveliness. But sometimes, you have tiny humans who are actively fighting against you. You have tiny humans who are irritating, and don't appreciate the fact that you've tried. You don't think about the day to day life hard, about having to put food on the table every night, or standing in a toilet cubicle in a restroom while a little person does number two and you nearly want to gag at the stench of it, you're just so desperate for it to be over, so you can get out of that tiny, smelly, prison. You don't think about how irritating it is to have to pull over and fix car seat belts, or retrieve lost water bottles, or do school drop offs in the pouring rain.

It's a series of curveballs. Some people, they thrive on spontaneity and the unknown. They relish change and rise to meet new challenges. I avoid them. And motherhood is so many curveballs. All the time. Baby. Teeth. Toilet training. Sleep. Food. Tantrums. Kindy. School. Friendships. Education. Am I making the right choice here? Have I prepared you well enough for this? They shouldn't be watching so much television. No TV in the mornings before school. Here is an iPad, just be quiet for 5 minutes. Don't scream at your brother. Stop hurting the dog. For the love of God, why did you throw dirt at your sister just after she got dressed into her school uniform?

It's just hard. 

And then. You hear the garbage truck trundle down the street, and there are no tiny people to tell "look it's the rubbish bin man!" and they don't rush to the window to watch the garbage truck empty the bin, because they aren't there. And pretty soon, even when it's school holidays, they won't rush to watch the bin being emptied, because they will have grown up. And, and, and.....

You want them to grow up, and it's so nice to have some space. But what if they aren't coping? What if you don't cope? How do you learn to be a person again, when all you've been is a mother? And a tiny human is sitting, scared, fighting back the tears at her desk in school, trying to be brave. And you walk away. You have to walk away. Even though every fibre of your being tells you not to. You know this is necessary. So you smile and wave and chirp "Have a great day!" while you drag another tiny human shouting "I don't want to leave the playground, I don't like you mum!"

Oh it's just so many contradictions, and ALL of the feelings. I think it's time for a coffee. And today, cake.

Just something I want to remember...

My sister is pregnant, and having a baby soon. Today, we had a baby shower for her. This morning, when I was getting ready to go, Charlie asked Shane "will Aunty Lizzie keep her clothes on when she has a shower?" Shane, confused asked "what do you mean" and Charlie replied "when she has the baby shower with the ladies, will she keep her clothes on in the shower?"

That boy does make us laugh!

Beautiful brokenness

So, I have found much of 2016 hard. Christmas was looking to be so great, but it kinda went a little pear-shaped. On Christmas Eve, Shane was painting the outside of the house, standing up on a trestle, when he lost his balance and came off it backwards. That was one of the most terrifying moments of my life, racing outside to find him lying on the ground covered in paint while he screamed in pain. Fortunately, my sister Cathy was home with us helping Shane paint, so she quickly took charge of the kids and I called an ambulance. Those few hours when we didn't know what had happened, how bad the damage was, were pretty awful. 

But we were very blessed in how prompt his assistance was, how many people were around to help, and the fact that he was discharged and home again that night. It took us a little while to find out what exactly his damage was. He needed more scans a week or so later. But finally we were told he fractured a vertebrae in his back. However it was so much better than it could have been, and we are so very grateful for that.  Suffice to say though, that Christmas was rather stressful for us this year. I don't think I've ever been so glad to see the back of it. 

He was flat on his back for a couple of weeks afterwards, (which was really hard for him) but he was able to go back to work, and he is slowly healing. Much slower than he would like, but still, I can't be ungrateful for this, when at the time we had no idea how badly he might have damaged himself.

However, this last month has been a bit of a challenge. We did celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary, which was great! Especially because we weren't sure if he would be well enough for it. My mum looked after the kids for two whole nights while we went away for a trip to the Sunshine Coast hinterland, and it was beyond lovely. It was so nice to just be us, especially in such a beautiful location. 

I have a little boy who has just had his first day of kindy this week, and it went pretty well for him, no tears at drop off, and according to the staff he went really well, but there plenty of tears when I picked him up. I think he was just so relieved to see me, and so glad it was over. He doesn't want to go back, but he knows he has to. I'm really hoping he copes ok with three days next week! 

And my girl, my Georgie-girl who I started this blog for, is going to school tomorrow. I am so glad, but I really hope that this new world is good for her, and is a wonderful adventure.

So, yeah it's been all happening here. Honestly, it hasn't been that bad. Parts of it have been good. But I am a little bit stressed. We all know how well I cope with change. (Ha!) Mostly I am looking forward to settling into a new routine, and I know I will be much, much better when everything settles down into the new normal. 

You know how sometimes, you just stop and take a moment and you just try to just make sense of stuff? I had one of those just before while doing the dishes. I had a bit of reconnection with God, and there was a song playing on the radio talking about how he makes the broken things beautiful. And I think it just clicked. 

Sometimes it's really easy to just look at everything through my own eyes. To look at life and things that have happened the way the world does. It can be hard to make much sense of things when we examine them from our point of view. But there is so much more going on than I can comprehend. God is always, always sovereign. He is always underneath every surface, working at every situation. We are not lost, or alone, or ugly. Regardless of our struggles, our failures, and our flaws. Our hurt, and anger and pain. He works in all things, and he sees what we don't. He makes the broken beautiful.

'Cause I am a sinner

If it's not one thing it's another

Caught up in words

Tangled in lies

But you are a Saviour

And you take brokenness aside

And make it beautiful.

Beautiful.

(C) All Sons and Daughters, 2012.

And so it is Christmas...

So tonight I went and did my pre-Christmas grocery shopping. I thought I would try and be clever and do it while the grocery store was 'quieter' (ha!). But I didn't have my kids with me, so it was a peaceful time for me. On my way home I was listening to the radio, and the presenter was describing the Christmas story, focusing on how horrible the experience must have been for Mary. I've heard people go along that vein before to be honest, so I wasn't really paying attention.

But while I was listening, I was suddenly struck with a realisation. I knew that God sent his son to be born in a stable to fullfill prophecy, and I understood that he did it without any human pomp and splendour to seperate himself from earthly glory. But I don't think I ever really grasped another important reason why Jesus was born in a stable with farm animals. 

The presenter was elaborating on how awful the stable would have been, with animal excrement everywhere, and he really hammered home just how much of an unpleasant, filthy, horrible place it was. I guess I have become desensitised to the whole thing, having heard it for years. Plus, It's also easy to develop a nicer idea of a manger in your head, especially when you imagine it like it's done in a nativity story, with tiny children dressed as sheep and other animals.

But, when I started to ask God 'why was it a stable, one of the most unpleasant places in the world (in a physical sense)?' all of a sudden I understood the symbolism behind it. He had to have Jesus, the most pure being ever on the earth, introduced to the world in a filth-encrusted place. Because that's how it is. This world is shockingly depraved and filled with the vilest evil. But Jesus, the purest saviour came to us in all our filth, to rescue us. 

I was struck anew with gratitude and love for my God and my saviour. And I really needed that. Christmas seems to get busier every year, but I must never, never get so busy that I don't pay attention to my God and saviour, and the reason I can celebrate and live.

Holidays! (And letting go of the word should)

I thought I'd write a little post about our holidays. Mostly because I really love going back over the blog every now and then... It's my favourite way of reliving memories. I do apologise if you follow me on Instagram, as most of my photos here are from there.

We went back to Burrum Heads a few weeks ago, and it was nice to get away. We did lots of shopping, lots of taking kids to the beach. The usual, but nice all the same. One of the highlights of the trip, for me, was going up to Bundaberg and visiting a friend of mine who has moved up there. Our kids played madly on the beach all afternoon, and just picked up right where they left off, and it was beautiful.

One of the very nicest parts of the holiday was Shane. He is a completely changed person compared to the way he was when we went away to Burrum two years ago. He was so calm, and unstressed the entire time. He spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to keep two children entertained in shopping centres, while I tried to get everything we needed, and he did it without complaint. And he was just so nice to spend time with. It made me realise how much better he is, and we as a family are. I know by many people's standards, we might not be everything we ought to be. But I promise you, our family is so much stronger, and healthier, and our relationship is so much better now than it was when we were putting on a show, being people we were 'supposed' to be. And I think that's what God wants.

I've really started to question things lately (in case the last few blog posts aren't any indicator!) and while I am most definitely not giving up my faith, I think I am very much in the process of reshaping it. For a very long time, I had a very concrete idea of what a Christian should look like. I had a very set path of what my own faith had to look like, and I'm starting to realise that that path may not be what I need, or what God wanted from me. I've spent a ridiculous amount of time comparing myself and measuring myself up against a stick that I was never supposed to.

There are some absolute truths I know must always be true. But I guess I'm realising that everyone's walk is going to look different. I have had trouble with the big church machine, but I've come to realise that it's ok to have trouble. I really used to look at church leadership through rose coloured glasses, and I think I drank deeply of the kool-aid in Pentecostal churches that can uphold leaders and singers and speakers a little too highly, and works so hard on the shiny lights, and the great music, and the draw people in culture. I'm always going to be more concerned with keeping people around than drawing them in, and I've realised that that's ok. There are many rooms in my fathers house.

 I never want to be that bitter Christian who bad mouths pastors and church leadership, and does their best to subversively tear people down. That's not of God, and I want no part in anything like that. But I am working on letting go of a lot of expectations I had on myself and my family that were actually, no good for us.



Anyway, sorry if this is all a bit disjointed, I didn't set out to write about all that, this was supposed to be mostly a post about holidays.... But you get that! Back to the holiday, it did have a few bumpy bits, there was a huge heatwave that went through the state on our last few days, and it was pretty hot- especially without an air conditioner. But mostly, it a good holiday. We have kind of come back to earth with a bang, as the week after we came back, Georgie had her ballet concert, and there has been much associated Christmas and end of year hoopla. But, kindy is finished for the year now, and Shane has another two whole weeks off at Christmas! It's kind of great.

So. Photos!

Tonight, this bible verse spoke to me, and it really helped confirm that I am headed in the right direction.

His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor his delight in the legs of the warrior; the Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love. (Psalm 147:10-11 NIV)

Square peg, round hole

I really wish I could not be me sometimes. I hate the anxiety that makes me break into a cold sweat at the idea of small talk. I hate that I disappoint my social butterfly daughter because I just don't cope with people and I have to leave right now, so I don't cry in front of them all, and can dissolve in the privacy of my car, with the wiggles turned up loudly in the backseat so the two little people behind me don't hear. I wish that I could stop the fear that suffocates me, and I wish I could silence that voice that keeps screaming about my inadiquacies inside my head. I wish I could be enough, and do enough, and I hate this pitiful, afraid creature I have become, with sharp edges, and anger and bitterness balled up inside. Why don't I just fit?

I'm sorry. I have doubts and questions, and my passion waxes and wanes, and I am opinionated and hard at times, and I make other people uncomfortable, and I'm not skinny, and I'm often wrong and sad and unhappy. But I believe Jesus loves me too. I believe that God doesn't mind if I don't win, as long as I try, and as long as I'm always looking for him. I trust in the one who loves me when I am least able to love myself, but need it the most.

I don't really think it's other people's fault. They aren't really the reason I can't talk to them. I mean, sure, I wish cliques weren't so excluding, and I wish it wasn't quite so easy to fall off the radar. I wish I didn't get overlooked because of who my family is, and I wish it had never gotten to this point, because I don't really know how to come back from here. Part of me blames them and gets hurt and upset, at things that have happened, all the bricks in the wall, but my particular brand of crazy seems intent on destroying its host. So mostly I wish I was different. 

I wish I could go back to being that version of me, who said all the right things, and was exactly what the culture told me to be. But I don't think that's even possible anymore. I want to be shiny and happy, and fit in with the perfect veneer. But nothing seems the same anymore. Mummy the emperor is naked. I don't even know who I am or where I fit anymore. Very round peg, very square hole.  I wish I didn't care so much about what other people thought of me.

I must admit though, that I am a bit tired of a culture that tells me I have to be all that I can be, one that tells me I have to give all I have got. I've given, and I am used up. How about teaching us how to go to the well that will never run dry? Because I've lost my way.  I believe in a church that equips the saints and makes the broken feel the love of Jesus. Not one that uses you up and then spits you out when you have nothing left to offer. I believe in knowledge and wisdom, and theology and truth and love and compassion, and Lord, let there be grace.

Im sorry. I'm wrong again. All this is wrong, all of me is wrong, and I just need to get over myself and trust in God and fix my eyes in Him. But I am trying. How long, how hard do you have to try before things get better? Can someone please tell me? How much longer do I try before I can't anymore? I know, my mind is fixed on me too much. I know I am stuffed with faults and sins and good intentions. But I am trying, all the time I am trying. Why can't that be enough? Dear God, why can I not just fit in?

Mess in my head

Goodness I am battling so much right now. With lots of things. Don't get me wrong, in many ways I am happy. Life is chugging along well, and some things are great. But I've also been tossing and turning many nights, internally stressing and processing. I don't like church. I don't want to go anymore. I want to want to go. (Oh I want to so badly!) and I still go, but it's pretty much all for my children and out of my love for God, and definitely not because I enjoy it. I'm feeling very weary of it. There's lots of stuff, and I won't go into detail. But my own church doesn't feel like home anymore. And it makes me very sad. Because it's always been my home. 

I'm also really struggling to accept the way we do church, and how it actually relates to God. I feel like the two don't really connect. What is the purpose exactly? You go, and there's so much effort and stress put into the show and the talking, and the food, and the smiles on our faces, and the prayers, the right words, and the pretty clothes, and the misbehaving kids who we are just not coping with, and the singing, and there's just this big gaping emptiness inside that's eroding away like cancer and we are pretending it doesn't exist.

Now don't misunderstand me. I believe some of it is genuine. Some of the kindest, most genuine, generous people I know are in church. But at the same time, it just feels like there is so much effort being poured into things that don't matter, that so much of it is meaningless. Give 'em the old razzle dazzle.

There are people in this world desperate for safety, life, and hope, and none of us ever seem to mention them. Why? There are so many people headed to hell. How does the thought of that not destroy me? And then there are thousands of people internally screaming who are dying slowly on the inside in the western world, in our churches even... and we are missing it. I know I am missing it. I am not trying to place blame here. I really am not. I will put my hand up, guilty too. But I don't want to be. I guess I am searching for authenticity. I am trying to figure out what loving God really looks like. I know there are no perfect churches. Maybe it's more about finding an imperfection you can live with? At the moment for me though, it really does feel like we could do better.

I will freely admit my relationship with God isn't great. I know I could try harder with people. Maybe it is all my fault. It's hard not to feel like it is. But I wish people would try with me too. Maybe it's all in my head? I get really scared that it is all in my head. But I don't think so. I do believe in fellowship. I believe that a church family can actually feel like family. I've seen it before. But now I just feel... Guilty mostly. And sad.

If you asked me to pinpoint the problem, tell you exactly what happened, and when, (as some are so fond of doing) I couldn't tell you. But it just feels like there have been an awful lot of stones, some enormous, some tiny that have created this huge, wall of unhappiness. I know I could scale that wall, climb right over it... And I do, I have been. It's been a constant daily climb. But lately I'm feeling kinda... done. The wall has gotten too high, too big, and I'm just too hurt, too weary, too broken, and  I don't really feel like anyone wants me on the other side anyway. I know I worship the One who looses chains, the breaker of walls. But somehow, every time He seems to get a chance to chip away at it, a few extra rocks get added. It feels like He doesn't think I'm worth it either. I know that's a lie, but why does it feel so true?

I don't really know why I am writing all this here. Mostly I'm just feeling like a giant-attention seeking fool. But... Spiritually, I'm just having a hard time lately, I'm sad, and I'm weary, and I guess what I'm saying is, please pray for me and mine.