Tale as old as Time.

My poor little girl spiked a high fever today out of nowhere (she is the queen of high temps and no other symptoms. What gives?!), so we had an impromptu movie afternoon. She's usually so busy that she doesn't have time to slow down for cuddles, so I secretly relish sick days where I get to curl up with her on the couch. Is that selfish?

Trying to get her to broaden her horizons beyond all-time favorite Studio Ghibli (Totoro and Kiki are totally awesome, but we know them by rote in 2 languages now), I proposed Beauty and the Beast. Here's how I pitched it to her:

"It's about a girl who loves to read books, and loves to help her daddy. She goes on an adventure with her horse, and makes lots of silly new friends!" She took the bait. I know how to play to my daughter's interests, all right!

She did NOT like the "'cary wolves," and was uneasy about the Beast, too (though she thought the talking clock was great!). We used the movie to talk about being kind to others, and what a difference that makes for people's feelings. Who knows how much she took away, but she did notice that both Beast and Belle were choosing to help each-other more and more throughout the film. It was neat.

Out of nowhere, she turned to me and said "Mommy, do you know that Belle loves the Beast?" I asked her how she knew that, and she said "Because the Beast takes care of her." Curious, I asked if she thought the Beast loved Belle, and why? She said "Yes, because she helps him."

It was interesting to hear her say that. We often talk to her about how Mommy and Daddy do things for her because we love her, so it's neat to hear these ideas percolating in her mind. Of course, her definition seems rather self-focused (not surprising, considering she's two. And human). She says each loves the other because the other does something for them. But I hope that eventually the true definition will come out and she will realize that love is not self-seeking. Someday, maybe I'll ask her how she knows Belle loves the Beast and she will reply "Because she helps the Beast"

This has always been one of my favorite Disney stories. I loved that Belle was a reader, and a daddy's girl (and daddy is an engineer, how cool is that?!), and totally NOT interested in boys! I found her the most relatable "princess" in my childhood as a tomboy/nerd. But that's not the only thing that resonated with me.

Everyone makes fun of this movie and says it's just "Stockholm Syndrome," but here's what I saw:

Belle willingly gives herself up as a ransom for her father. She thinks she's going to be chained in a dungeon for the rest of her life, but that doesn't stop her from sacrificing herself for her father's sake. That's love.

What follows is a series of sacrifices Belle and the Beast make for each-other without expecting anything in return:

Belle has broken the rules and gone into the forbidden wing where she is confronted and flees the castle. She is about to be eaten by wolves. The Beast is furious and could have left her to die, but he comes to her rescue, and in doing so is injured and collapses.

Belle chooses to bring him back to the castle and tend his wounds. The monster was incapacitated, she could have run home at any point, but chose not to.

To thank her, the Beast gives her his library. If that's not a grand gesture, I don't know what is. ;)

Then there's this sweet little scene where the Beast shoves his face into his oatmeal until he notices a shocked Belle staring back at him. He tries to please her by using a spoon, but his massive claws can't hold it. Belle sees him struggling and suggests they both just drink from the bowl. See that? Each making compromises for the sake of the other. Awww!

Even the song "Beauty and the Beast" gives a good picture of the story:

Tale as old as time

True as it can be

Barely even friends,

Then somebody bends

Unexpectedly...

...Tale as old as time

Song as old as rhyme

Bittersweet and strange

Finding you can change

Learning you were wrong

I've always felt like this was the most realistic of the Disney love stories because it required so many compromises from both characters. They each had to get over themselves and let go of their expectations to make the relationship work. There is actual character growth on both sides as the relationship develops.

Of course, each of these gestures was a response to a previous one. They had to start somewhere, and the first one may not have been as altruistic as I'd like: the Beast probably went after Belle with the intention of bringing her back and locking her up, only accidentally saving her life at great cost to himself.

My motivation to love is also a reaction to something that came before. 1 John 4:9-12 and 19 says 

"This is how God showed His love among us: He sent His one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us... We love because he first loved us."

The True tale as old as time...

Our Home

I looked around at our apartment tonight, thinking about how cluttered it was, listing all the projects I wanted to try, looking at the floors that need to be refinished, wondering if I was ever going to fix the organizer that got ripped off the wall, sighing as I saw the chaotic piles closing in on me from every corner, realizing how very different this place was from the way I thought it would be.
Then I looked around at our home and saw our life.
I remembered the brand new wood floors, put in just before we were married, and I saw the ground-in dirt at the entryway from all the guests and family we've welcomed into our home, and the scuffs and stains around the table from the meals we've shared.
I remembered the pristine walls, freshly painted, giving a clean, open, serene feel to the room. Then I saw the pictures of our lives together, the messy artwork our toddler so proudly taped up herself, the stains behind the couch(!) from the food our daughter devoured so happily, the gaping hole from that poor organizer, torn down by a child we took in for a month so his mother could get back on her feet.
I remember how spacious and airy our living room once felt, then I saw how full it has become from all the furniture, books, and toys which inevitably come when you add more people to your family.
I remember how I spent the first few months of our marriage meticulously organizing every nook and cranny, a place for everything and everything in its place. Then I thought of our toddler sleeping in the walk-in closet, our valuable storage space now holding something far more precious.

It's so easy for me to look around at this place and see the mess, the clutter, the scars, and the lack of space. So often I grow discouraged at how out-of-control the mess feels, how poorly decorated our apartment is compared to my friends, how I just don't have the time, space and resources to do with this place what I would have liked.
This place is so very far from what I imagined it would be when we first moved in as newlyweds, but our lives have turned out so very different from what we expected.
Tonight, I remembered that this apartment has been our home for the last three years. We have lived our lives in this place, not some fantasy daydream life where everything fits perfectly in lovely bins bought with coupons at the dollar store (and now you know what I daydream about...). This place has been our home through the exhaustion of medical residency, the sleepless nights with a colicky baby, loss of loved ones,  the heartbreak of miscarriage. This has been our home when we held each-other and wept, and when we jumped around laughing for joy. It has seen insecurity, sickness, fear, depression, defeat, bitterness, and sacrifice, but it has also seen healing, comfort, growth, hope, unconditional love, and faithfulness.
It has welcomed family, hosted dear friends, been a home-away-from-home for college students, taken in at-risk children. It's where our marriage started, and the only home our daughter has ever known.
It may not be as pretty as a magazine, but to me, and I hope to the many others who have graced it with their presence, it is a thing of beauty.

Our lives have not been serene, but they have been full. Our lives have not been organized, things did not happen "as planned," but praise God, we are learning to be flexible and receive each moment, each new adventure or challenge as a chance to learn and grow in Him.
This is the story of our family, this is a reflection of our lives together, this is a testament to the goodness and faithfulness of our marvelous Creator.
It's not pristine, it's not pretty, but it is magnificent. It is a thing of wonder, and there's no place I would rather be.

And the best part is, we're just getting started!!!

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.

Interesting quote...

From a sermon on marriage:

"My goal is to make my wife believe that the best thing she has ever done is to marry me."

Looking back now on what I just typed, I can see how it might look self-centered ("I'm so awesome, aren't you glad you married me?"), but that's not the context in which it was said. What he meant was: "I want to be the best husband humanly possible, supporting and loving and caring for my wife so much that she will never have cause to regret her choice to spend her life with me. In fact, not only will she not regret it, she will be more happy with that decision than with any other she has ever made." He followed it up by quoting Philippians 2:3

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves."

He didn't dwell on this, and I don't think that his quote was intended to be a pithy statement, or even the point of the sermon (which was titled "Lasting Love"), but that sentence is what stuck out to me. I like it. I think more people should adopt this goal. I once heard love defined as:
"Jealously guarding the well-being of another." Lots to think about. What a huge goal for a marriage: defending the happiness of my husband, putting his needs before my own, loving him in such a way that he will never have cause to regret his decision to marry me.

If you want to listen to the sermon, click here.

"No time to say hello, goodbye!"

On the radio this morning, I heard a woman identify busyness as the main cause of loveless marriages. I stopped to listen closer, thinking that surely there had to be other, more ominous reasons she was overlooking, but what she had to say made sense to me. She continued to describe how two people, though married, can fill their schedules with activities which they carry out separate from each other. This means that work, errands, exercise, leisure, and time with friends are all activities performed as individuals, not as a couple. When one spends the majority of their time acting as an independent person, without spending significant quality time with their mate, they run the risk of losing their connection. Over time, that strong emotional bond wanes until the marriage relationship becomes more like that of roommates or business partners. Hardly what I would want from a marriage!

I immediately thought of a book written by renowned marriage counselor Dr. Gary Chapman entitled "The Five Love Languages" (http://www.fivelovelanguages.com).
In this book he sorts expressions of affection into 5 broad categories:
1. Words of affirmation (saying nice things)
2. Acts of service (doing nice things)
3. Physical touch
4. Gift giving
5. Quality time
Chapman says that while people use and accept all five of these categories, most people tend to have one or two which they prefer over the rest.

My primary love language is quality time, so the talk about busyness on the radio really resonated with me: More than anything else, I want to spend time with the people I love, and I feel most loved when those people choose to spend time with me. Other methods like gift-giving or words of affirmation mean very little to me, all I want is to be close to my friends and family.

Of course, I also am an overachiever, getting myself involved in too many projects, constantly filling my schedule with more activities. For instance, I'm currently a full-time nanny, teaching 4 private music students, working in the computer lab at my alma mater on Saturdays, playing in my community orchestra, and teaching Sunday School at my church. Every single day of my week is spoken for, and at least three, sometimes four evenings are also taken. I have become so busy that when I do get a spare moment, I just want to take some time for myself and decompress. This makes it really hard to get together with friends, spend time with my family, or even see my fiance (who has an equally busy schedule, might I add).

I understand that spending large amounts of time with people is probably not absolutely necessary in order to maintain friendships. A quick phone call, email, note on facebook, card, present, or something else could probably help fill the gaps between the times you see each other, but my principal mode of communication when it comes to friendships is time. Everything else seems second-rate (this may not be true for you, if your preferred love language is not quality time).

I am really starting to feel the effects of this in my life! When I am around my fiance, I am so happy, things just feel right. When I'm going about my week, however, working my jobs, not seeing him much (if at all), just doing my own thing, I almost start to feel like I'm single again. The less time I get to spend with him, or the longer I go without talking to him, the weaker our bond starts to feel, at least for me. Don't get me wrong, I love him very much all the time, I never doubt that, but the reality and significance of our relationship starts to fade unless I get to see him, and not just see him, spend time with him. It doesn't matter what we do, we don't have to go to a fancy restaurant or do something exciting. I'm usually more than happy to go grocery shopping, take a walk, sit and read with him, whatever, just so long as we're together.

It works this way with friends, too. This sounds obvious, but my dearest friends are the ones I spend the most time with. When I spend less time with my friends--even my really close ones--we start to drift apart. I find it's harder to talk to them, harder to feel the same connection. But of course, after I get to hang out with them again, I feel much better.

This really forces me to think about where my priorities lie. I know that my busy schedule can be detrimental to my relationships, so I have to decide which is more important to me: my various jobs and other activities, or my friends and family? So this month I am pausing to consider my schedule. While I love what I do, and find all of my activities to be fun and fulfilling (I wouldn't do them otherwise), I hope that the things and activities I love will never take precedence over the people--living beings, with hearts and minds--that I love so much!

What about you??? What do you think about busyness? What is your primary love language? I'd love to know! :)