A Work In Progress: Learning to Obey...

It was another rough day, with both of us fighting colds. It's very easy for me to get frustrated and overwhelmed by the whining and the crying and the tantrums and the general neediness, but I am so very thankful for the little glimpses of growth God lets me see in my beautiful daughter.

I've been teaching her what "obey" means: "to listen to mommy and do what she says." We've been talking about it and "practicing" it for weeks. She usually just ignores me, then throws a fit when I assert my will (usually by picking her up and moving her out of harm's way). Occasionally she listens and really seems to understand what's expected of her. You can see her pondering her next move. On rare occasions, she decides to comply, and I rejoice as if we'd found a cure for cancer. More often she decides to follow her own way, and the battle of wills ensues. It often feels like we're getting nowhere, but I know it's one of those things where the fruit is a very long time coming! Fighting these battles now will hopefully produce results later on, and that is the hope that keeps me going.

Today, we were out on a walk, and she was headed straight for a grimy puddle. I called out "STOP!" and she stopped!!! Glory, hallelujah, she stopped!!! I praised her up and down for doing such a good job obeying, then I told her to go around the puddle. She paused. I held my breath. She looked at me, smiled, and, pointing to the puddle, made the sign for "water." Well, she's not going around, but she's not plowing through it either, that's a start! Tentatively, I explained to her "Yes, that is water, but it's yucky water. Go around, please!" And without another thought, she cheerfully circumvented the mud.

There were hugs, and kisses, and thanks, and praises, and all manner of professions of love and pride and hope from this one little act of obedience! I held my child in a warm embrace and explained to her: "I love you when you obey, and still I love you when you don't obey, but I make these rules to keep you safe. I tell you to do these things because I love you and I don't want you to get hurt. When you obey me, that's your way of telling me that you love me."

Tonight I am reading 1 John. Chapter 5, verse 3 says "this is love for God: to keep his commands. And his commands are not burdensome." Oh, how is it that I still need to learn the same lessons I am teaching my little one?! I can hear my Heavenly Father now: "I created you to walk in my light. If only you would just listen to me and do what I say! I know what is best for you because I designed you, and I tell you to do these things because I love you, and I want to keep you safe."

When my daughter obeys me, I'm not happy because I can control her, or because I got my own way. I'm happy because she is listening to me, and values what I have to say. When she hears my voice and does what I ask, it tells me that she trusts me not to lead her astray. What could be better than that?

Lord, teach me to listen to you, and value what you say. I know you love me. Teach me to trust that you only want what is best for me, and help me to follow your will.

There's a hymn my mother taught me when I was very young, and now I sing it to my own daughter. I didn't understand it then, but these days it is making more sense:

My little puddle-jumper!

"Trust and obey,
For there's no other way
To be happy in Jesus,
But to trust and obey."

--Text by John H Sammis
(full lyrics can be found here)

A Work In Progress

***This is the first post in a series on lessons I'm learning through motherhood. The posts will probably be very spaced out (I don't have a great track record on regular posting), and there might be other posts in-between, but every once-in-a-while I hope to put up another post on the topic! Look for the tag "Work In Progress"

A few weeks ago, as I was wearily pushing the stroller at a brisk pace in frigid weather, bracing myself against the brutal Chicago wind, wishing I had remembered my hat and scarf, all in a desperate attempt to help my sleep-deprived little one get some kind of nap (she has always slept better in the stroller, but wakes up as soon as I stop moving or go inside), I began to reflect on all the things I've learned since becoming a mother. (phew! How's that for a run-on sentence?)

As my sweet daughter continued to sleep, I had ample time to tabulate a surprisingly long list. I believe I've grown more in the last 10 months than any other "stage" of my life. I would also have to say that these first 10 months of motherhood have easily been the hardest of any stage thus far.

And that was when I started to wonder why I always seemed to grow more in times of trial than I ever did in success. Honestly, my first thought was "How come God can teach other moms the same lessons and still give them babies who sleep through the night?!" My initial response was something along the lines of "Wow, I must be a really slow learner if God had to resort to such extreme methods! Maybe I should be praying for a more teachable spirit!"

But then I remembered how often God does exactly what I ask, but in a way that is terribly different from what I had in mind. For instance, I once asked for an extension on a midterm project and a break from responsibilities for about a week, never actually believing it would happen. But the next day I contracted shingles and wound up with a doctor's note for--guess what?--A week off of school (and yes, I got that extension, too)! Then there's all those times I've prayed for a humble spirit, only to turn around and get utterly humiliated. Yeah, sickness and public disgrace are certainly not what I had in mind, but you know what? I got exactly what I asked for. God's methods are always effective. Be careful what you pray for!

I have long believed that people are more willing to learn in difficult situations. Think about the classes you took in school: Which ones drove you to study harder and seek help? Easy classes are easy because we know most of the material already (or we think we do, at least). We study more in those difficult classes because we realize how much we have to learn. It's the same in life: When things are going smoothly, it's easy to believe that we have all the answers. But when things go wrong, we realize how much we need help. People are the most receptive when they are the most desperate. God sends trials our way not because He's a vindictive god who delights in watching His creation squirm, but because He cares about our character and education, and wants to make sure we learn His lessons well.

Well, that answers my first question ("why I always seemed to grow more in times of trial than I ever did in success"), but not my second ("How come God can teach other moms the same lessons and still give them babies who sleep through the night?"). I think I was heading east on Superior, into the wind, when I realized "We all learn essentially the same lessons, but in different times and different ways." Any good teacher will tell you that one method does not fit all. You have to tailor your approach based on factors like age, ability, classroom dynamic, learning styles, resources available, number of students, timeframe, and many, many others. One of the baby books I reference frequently ("What to Expect the First Year) repeats this adage in every chapter: "All babies are different." Well, all people are different, too, and I am so very thankful that our God knows and loves each one of us individually. Who better to tailor our curriculum than the One who made us, and took great care in every detail (Psalm 139)? I don't know what lessons those other moms need to learn, and I don't know what and how He has already taught them. I'm glad I don't have to. It is enough for me to trust that God is teaching them and teaching me. My job is only to learn. (Psalm 131)

As I was reflecting on these things before writing this post, I wondered if sometimes God uses difficult methods to test how willing we are to learn. It's easy to ask for humility, but you have to really want it if you're going to stare humiliation in the face and accept it as an opportunity to grow! I am fond of saying "it's not our circumstances that change us, it's how we respond to them." If you don't want to learn, you probably won't. But that doesn't mean God won't continue to teach you.

I want to throw in a disclaimer here: I'm not saying that the only reason we experience hardship is because God has something to teach us. He has many purposes for trials, and I never want to give the impression that all you have to do is "learn your lesson" and the hard times will stop! In fact, that is rarely the case. What I am saying is, no matter what your situation, God can always teach you something. Romans 8:28 is an often misinterpreted passage that reads "And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose." A lot of people assume that the "good" refers to things in this life, but if you keep reading, you discover what "His purpose" is: "...to become conformed to the image of His Son." (Romans 8:29) That verse doesn't mean God will make sure everything turns out all right in the end. It really means that our infinitely wise and creative God can use anything as an opportunity to help us grow to become more like Jesus Christ.

I guess I'll just continue to pray for a teachable spirit, even though I know that probably means I'll continue to learn my lessons "the hard way."

I'd like to share some excerpts from two of my favorite hymns. I have sung these to my baby girl every day since she was born, but I know I need these words far more than she does at this point. Both hymns were written by Karolina Sandell-Berg (a Swede!) and translated to English by Andrew L. Skoog.

Children of the Heavenly Father (verse 5)

"Tough He giveth and He taketh

God His children ne'er forsaketh.

His the loving purpose solely

To preserve them, pure and holy."

Day by Day (portions of verses 1 and 3)

"He, whose heart is kind beyond all measure,

Gives unto each day what He deems best...

"Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,

E'er to take, as from a Father's hand,

Willingly, the days, the moments fleeting,

Till I reach the promised land."

Ode to my crazy baby girl

Warning: You are about to read my feeble attempt at poetry. Continue at your own risk!

Add some cutesy illustrations of baby animals and you've got a children's book! ;)

I love you when you're happy,

I love you when you're sad.

I love you when you scream,

Even though it drives me mad.

I love you when you're wet,

I love you when you're dry.

I love it when you laugh,

I still love you when you cry.

I love you when you puke on my dress,

I love you when you pee on the floor.

Even though you make a mess,

I couldn't love you more.

I love you whether rain or shine,

I love you when it doesn't rhyme.

I love you, Baby, all the time.

I love you, just because you're mine.

Orchestra Dreams

I'm told it's pretty typical to dream you show up to class only to discover there's an exam on material you haven't studied, or that you go to give a speech and you're up on stage completely naked, but I've never had any of those dreams. I have dreamed of being late for orchestra, though:

Last night I dreamed I was playing in the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Except instead of Robert Chen, it was Pinchas Zukerman (one of my favorite violinists) in the concertmaster's chair, and I was sitting next to him! I'm not sure which I would be more nervous to play with...

Our conductor was a young, very dynamic Ricardo Muti look-alike, and we were playing some non-existent but very cool sounding modern piece (I swear, my unconscious brain is 100 times more musically creative than my conscious self. Either that or I have poor taste in music when I'm asleep!). It must have been a special rehearsal, because there were tons of people observing it.

We went on break, and somehow I ended up talking to former music director Daniel Barenboim, who was one of the observers. He asked me what I did for a living (an odd question, considering the circumstances), and I gave him my real-life answer (I teach theory on the weekends, but most days I stay home with my adorable baby girl). He seemed a little confused that I didn't mention playing in a professional orchestra, but was polite enough not to mention it. We ended up having a lovely conversation about teaching, and before I knew it, I was LATE for the second half of rehearsal!!!

As I was rushing back in (sure enough, they were already tuning!), who should greet me at the door but my former violin teacher Stefan Hersh! He scolded me for being irresponsible and told me I was fired. I tried to tell him I was talking to DANIEL BARENBOIM, but that didn't seem to impress him. Rats! I guess I'll never find out how the piece ended!

********************

This may be the most elaborate orchestra dream I've had, but it is by no means the first:

I remember when I was 12 years old, having a nightmare that I showed up to Youth Symphony, and just minutes before rehearsal started, I went to get out my instrument and opened the case to discover I had forgotten my bow! I could have redeemed the situation by finding someone with an extra bow I could borrow, except there was no time, and I was sitting in the front row with no way to be discreet. Mr. Tham (I've never been more afraid of a conductor than I was of him) was going to kill me!!! Thankfully I woke up before he could tear me asunder.

Of course, we won't go into the time when I showed up to a real rehearsal without my instrument! Talk about my worst nightmares come true! I was a soloist, too! But that's another story...

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So, what about you? Anyone else out there have strange orchestra dreams, or am I just completely neurotic?

On Love and Sacrifice

This post was inspired by a discussion of this quote:

"We have meekly agreed that the kitchen sink is an obstacle instead of an altar... The routines of housework and of mothering may be seen as a kind of death, and it is appropriate that they should be, for they offer the chance, day after day, to lay down one's life for others."

-Elisabeth Elliot

Let me put it this way: First, while I find housework rewarding (as unpleasant as the chore may be, there is a sense of satisfaction in the final result), it is rarely my first choice (I have yet to meet someone who looks forward to doing dishes). But it is something that has to be done, everyone has basic needs that must be met through cooking, cleaning, and other chores. As a wife and mother, I have made the choice to provide not just for my own needs, but also for the needs of my family. And, as is true in so many areas of life, to choose to do one thing, is to choose NOT to do a host of other things. We make these kinds of choices everyday, when we choose to go to work rather than sleep in (we regard maintaining our employment at a higher value than a few extra Z's), or when we choose onion rings instead of french fries with our Happy Meal (totally worth the extra charge). In High School, my choice to be involved in marching band and youth symphony meant I couldn't participate in other extracurriculars like the cross-country or speech teams. Sure, it was a bummer I couldn't do those things, but I wanted to play music more, and I don't regret it.

So sure, I'd rather read a good book, or hang out with friends, or sleep, or watch TV than do laundry or change diapers, but I choose to do these things, becasue I know that providing clean clothes for my family will be far more rewarding in the end. The death is not mine, rather my choice to love and serve my family necessitates the death of other activities I may have enjoyed.

"Sacrifice" is defined as "an act of giving up something valued for the sake of something else regarded as more important or worthy." That is what my status means. I have sacrificed some of my valued activites for the sake of my family, which I regard as more important. While sacrifice is never easy, this is not a death to be mourned. Rather, I have given of myself in order to receive something greater. In this case, a happy, joy-filled home. How could I regret that? Thinking in these terms takes mundane, tiresome chores and turns them into something greater, something filled with meaning.

Jesus said "Greater love has no man than this: that he should lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:13)

We revere as heroes the soldiers, police, firefighters and numerous others who made the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of another, yet we ignore the fact that so many women willingly and happily "lay down their life" day after day for those they love.

Don't worry, this is not a tragedy forced upon me, this is a choice I am proud to have made, and I know my husband and daughter will appreciate this gift of myself.

Now, everyone go hug your mothers! ;)

Love is...

I've been thinking about this for a long time, but I have been really hesitant to write this post, because I am so afraid it will come out sounding preachy and self-righteous. I DONOT want that! In fact, this post is partly for me to come forward and communicate just how lost and helpless I have felt in the last several months.

Before we were married, my husband and I took a marriage-prep class at our church. I heard one of the pastors define love as "zealously guarding the happiness of another." I had never heard it put that way, and I liked it. After mulling it over, I made a few tweaks of my own and came up with something slightly more complicated, but I felt it rounded out the concept in my mind a bit more: "Zealously guarding the well-being of another at one's own expense." I like that definition, I feel like it covers many different aspects. I shared it with my father tonight, and he gave me his simplified version: "putting others ahead of yourself." I love my Dad's way with words. Somehow, he always manages to communicate thoughtfully and efficiently.

I also remember the "blessing" he gave to my husband and me at our wedding. He quoted a Clint Black song called "Something That We Do." The lyrics continually return to the title message that "love isn't something that we find ... [it] isn't something that we have ... [it's] not just something that we're in ... Love isn't just those words we said ... [it] isn't someplace that we fall, it's something that we do."

I have heard many people say that marriage is refining. Sixteen months in, I can wholeheartedly agree! I have learned so much about how selfish and impatient I tend to be, and I have had so many opportunities to practice "putting others ahead of myself." I am fond of saying "it hasn't all been easy, but it's all been good." It's not always pleasant, but I am so thankful to be slowly learning how to love.

Then I had a baby.

Yikes.

I won't mince words, that first month was torture. Our poor baby was (and still is) terrifically fussy. She cried so much in her first few days that even the nurses were astonished. She was only 2 days old when she lost her voice from all the screaming. It was horrible, but it was to become a regular occurrence: she lost her voice about once a week until about a month ago when it went away and never came back. Our poor baby has been hoarse for a month, but that's another story. If she was awake, she was crying. She wouldn't sleep unless we were holding her, and even then she needed to be rocked and nursed.

Now, I want to reassure you that this is exceptional behavior, not the norm. Approximately 20% of babies fit into this "extremely fussy" category, and our little one's condition was exacerbated by undiagnosed acid reflux which was causing her pain. Please don't let this scare you away from babies, they really are lovely!

In addition to the fussy baby, I was recovering from a C-section and was weak, sore and had a difficult time getting around. It was a good two weeks before I was able to manage anything more than shuffling around the apartment. Usually after major abdominal surgery you are told to rest and take it easy, but I had an infant who needed to be cared for and comforted constantly. She didn't know I was supposed to be resting. I was also experiencing extreme pain while nursing (another story, the details of which I will spare you. Suffice it to say that this too is abnormal), and this made me dread the task of feeding my baby--the one thing which seemed to calm her down!

Add to all this the fact that my husband is in his medical residency and was on overnight calls at the hospital every few days and was absent most of the time, and exhausted when he was home.

The first two months were a nightmarish ordeal. I was in excruciating pain, utterly exhausted, emotionally drained, and very alone. My only company during those long days and even longer nights was this tiny, needy creature who just. Wouldn't. Stop. Crying! I have never felt more helpless, more defeated than I did then.

I often find myself candidly telling people about this, describing my frustration with a child who refused to be comforted, the infuriation of a baby who screams when there doesn't seem to be anything wrong. I decide to be honest and tell them how many times I wanted to shake her and yell at her to shut up (which I never did), and I am met by shocked and horrified stares.

"How could you say such a thing?!" they ask.

"Don't you love your baby?!?!"

Yes.

Yes I love her.

I love her dearly.

I love her so much I would do anything for her.

I love her so much that I DIDN'T shake her.

I love her so much that I bounced her around the apartment, even though I could barely stand.

I love her so much that I nursed her every time she was hungry, even though the pain was so great that it often caused me to weep.

I love her so much that I held her through the night, watching the moon make it's lonely way across the night sky, just so that she could sleep, even though it meant no rest for me.

I love her so much that I gave her absolutely everything I possibly had to give. I poured out my life and my soul and my strength day after day, even though I got nothing in return except more fussing.

If love is warm fuzzy feelings about someone, then no. No, I didn't love my baby during those first two months.

But if love is "zealously guarding the well-being of another at your own expense," or more concisely, "putting others ahead of yourself," then yes I do love her.

I love her more than I will ever be able to express.

And yet I still lose my patience, I still get frustrated, I am still terribly selfish. Every day I get a little taste of just how much more I have to learn, how very imperfect I am. And every day I become more thankful that there is Someone who loves me in spite of all of that. Someone who loved me enough to take all the consequences of my shortcomings upon Himself. Someone who loved me enough to die for me. To learn more about this, ask me, or click here.

It's like candy for my mouth! Oh wait...

There are some words that are just fun to say.

The word that came to mind (or rather, came to mouth) today was "Snuggles." It's my new nickname for my 4.5 month-old baby girl who is responding to the cooler weather by becoming very clingy (it's hard for me to complain when the solution is lots of baby hugs).

I then began wondering if similar words would be just as fun (what else is there to do when your hands are full of a cuddly baby?).

Wiggles: ends the same, but to me, it just wasn't as good.

This made me wonder if it was less the "-ggles" suffix, and more the vowel preceding it.

Puddles: This one makes me happy, but I wonder if I just really like puddles...

Bubbles: Again, very positive associations with this word. Who doesn't like bubbles???

Buckles: This one gives me pause. Buckles aren't as fun as puddles or bubbles. In fact they can be downright annoying when you're in a hurry, so no positive associations there. Also, the "ck" sound is a little harsh. Yet, it's still rolling off the tongue satisfactorily.

On a scale of 0-10, 0 being "axe" and 10 being "snuggles," I'd say this is an 8.

Puggles: NOW we're getting somewhere! Yep, definitely fun to say, and fun to play with. Hmm, we're back to our "-ggles" suffix. AND it has a "u!" Okay, I'm definitely sensing a pattern. I think words ending it "-uggles" are my favorite! This leads us to the ultimate, smile-every-time, fun to say, funnier to think about...

THE BUGGLES!!!

(video killed the radio star!)

Yep, can't stop smiling.

Heehee, Buggles. :D