Yesterday, She Dawagna and I were talking about the ridiculous things we often say to our children. A prime example? I said to my Sohl son, "Don't eat things off your feet."
She and I decided a blog is in order for just such utterances. So, when you utter some completely unexpected phrase, visit me here (click it) and let me know about it. I'll post your moment, and mine too, with minimal details, and together we'll have moments of brevity and levity.
Trust me, it'll be fun. Besides, God gave us a sense of humor, so let use it.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Me, re-defined?
It's interesting. Not having grown up geographically close to my extended family, I was always known as Janel. No one's sister, no one's daughter, or niece, or granddaughter. I wasn't anyone's second cousin, no one usually knew both me and my parents. So this will be unfamiliar territory to those of you who didn't have similar childhoods, or weren't the oldest (so I'd guess, anyway).
When I got married, I expected a name change. I expected to be referred to as someone's wife, someone's significant other. I was looking forward to having a shorter, more familiar-sounding name. I was excited about the degree of anonymity it would bring. No one knew this new name. This was a new person. Me, redefined. Me, with a clean slate, an umblemished past, and an open future.
I wanted this new person to have a new personality. I would be upbeat, easy-going, and fun. I'd be light-hearted, personable, and hospitable. Above all, I'd be trustworthy, dependable, and giving. And with some major exceptions I've been this person.
When I started teaching, I was again redefined. Mrs. Sohl was to be fun, exciting, challenging, and understanding. But still, trustworthy, dependable, and giving. I was ready for this redefintion, too, and welcomed my students with my new focus. Better yet, each year I had a new chance to be that woman I'd defined as "perfect."
The redefinition I wasn't expecting came after my Sohl-son left my home for periods of time. He had friends at school or at day care, and I was redefined as, "Carter's mom." I hadn't planned for this woman, for this version of myself. Who was this person? What should her expectations be? How should she act? What kind of mother would she be? Could I be that perfect mom? The calm, patient, home-cooked meal mom. The one who made cute montly scrapbooks, who planned weekly playdates with homemade cookies and playdough? The one who knew all her kids' friends and was friends with their moms?
I've been this woman for over three and a half years now. So have I become my definition of a "perfect mom"? On some levels, yes. I've had the playdates, made the playdough, and done the home-cooked thing. I'm growing, I'm learning, but I'll the first to say that God's still teaching me patience and calmness. That fruit of the spirit is a learned trait when it comes to my mom-ing.
On other levels, no. I'm still the person I've always been. If I'm fair with myself, I've always been personable, trustworthy, and dependable. Though I wanted to get rid of what I viewed as blemishes are the things that have taught me, grown me, and shaped me into the woman I am. So, I'm not so focused on trying to redefine myself. I'm allowing myself to be who I am right now, and recognizing how God's changing me into who He's called me to be: Me.
When I got married, I expected a name change. I expected to be referred to as someone's wife, someone's significant other. I was looking forward to having a shorter, more familiar-sounding name. I was excited about the degree of anonymity it would bring. No one knew this new name. This was a new person. Me, redefined. Me, with a clean slate, an umblemished past, and an open future.
I wanted this new person to have a new personality. I would be upbeat, easy-going, and fun. I'd be light-hearted, personable, and hospitable. Above all, I'd be trustworthy, dependable, and giving. And with some major exceptions I've been this person.
When I started teaching, I was again redefined. Mrs. Sohl was to be fun, exciting, challenging, and understanding. But still, trustworthy, dependable, and giving. I was ready for this redefintion, too, and welcomed my students with my new focus. Better yet, each year I had a new chance to be that woman I'd defined as "perfect."
The redefinition I wasn't expecting came after my Sohl-son left my home for periods of time. He had friends at school or at day care, and I was redefined as, "Carter's mom." I hadn't planned for this woman, for this version of myself. Who was this person? What should her expectations be? How should she act? What kind of mother would she be? Could I be that perfect mom? The calm, patient, home-cooked meal mom. The one who made cute montly scrapbooks, who planned weekly playdates with homemade cookies and playdough? The one who knew all her kids' friends and was friends with their moms?
I've been this woman for over three and a half years now. So have I become my definition of a "perfect mom"? On some levels, yes. I've had the playdates, made the playdough, and done the home-cooked thing. I'm growing, I'm learning, but I'll the first to say that God's still teaching me patience and calmness. That fruit of the spirit is a learned trait when it comes to my mom-ing.
On other levels, no. I'm still the person I've always been. If I'm fair with myself, I've always been personable, trustworthy, and dependable. Though I wanted to get rid of what I viewed as blemishes are the things that have taught me, grown me, and shaped me into the woman I am. So, I'm not so focused on trying to redefine myself. I'm allowing myself to be who I am right now, and recognizing how God's changing me into who He's called me to be: Me.
Friday, August 24, 2007
I'm trying...
I'm trying. I AM. I'm beautiful, and I'm smart, and I'm capable. I'm talented. I'm a treasure.
I'm trying. I AM. I'm telling myself to find reasons to be joyful. I'm striving to give my frustrations, my concerns, my worries to God.
You know, it's like that skirt that looked so cute in the store, so I bought it, even though it was more than I wanted to spend, and brought it home for my own fashion show, even though it didn't really go with anything I already had, only to realize that it looks completely hideous. So I take it back.
I'm trying. But I find all these ridiculous reasons to be frustrated with myself or with my loved ones, to be worried about this or that thing that probably won't matter in a week or a month. While I'm walking God's path, there's an alternate bread-crumb trail satan's laid that the carb-aholic in me can't resist (he knows where I'm weak). So even though I know it's not where I want to spend my time, and I know that it doesn't go with what God has already told me about myself, I follow this trial of hideous "treats," which encourage me into self-doubt, sadness, and isolation.
But I'm trying not to. I don't want to this to myself, and to Him. I don't want to have this pity party. I don't want to have to turn around and find my way back to God's beautiful, warm, sunlit path. I didn't want to leave in the first place. I need a dustpan. Where's my broom? Who has a leaf blower I can borrow? I've got a path to clear, and I'm using the tools God's placed around me to keep myself on track.
I'm trying. I am. I'm trying to listen to that voice God's placed inside me, the one that says that I'm beautiful, capable, and smart. I'm a good mom, a good friend, and a good wife. I am His daughter, striving to be who He created me to be. And when necessary, I have to whip out my gas-powered leaf blower He's provided for me to clear the many forms of temptations from my path.
I'm trying. I AM.
I'm trying. I AM. I'm telling myself to find reasons to be joyful. I'm striving to give my frustrations, my concerns, my worries to God.
You know, it's like that skirt that looked so cute in the store, so I bought it, even though it was more than I wanted to spend, and brought it home for my own fashion show, even though it didn't really go with anything I already had, only to realize that it looks completely hideous. So I take it back.
I'm trying. But I find all these ridiculous reasons to be frustrated with myself or with my loved ones, to be worried about this or that thing that probably won't matter in a week or a month. While I'm walking God's path, there's an alternate bread-crumb trail satan's laid that the carb-aholic in me can't resist (he knows where I'm weak). So even though I know it's not where I want to spend my time, and I know that it doesn't go with what God has already told me about myself, I follow this trial of hideous "treats," which encourage me into self-doubt, sadness, and isolation.
But I'm trying not to. I don't want to this to myself, and to Him. I don't want to have this pity party. I don't want to have to turn around and find my way back to God's beautiful, warm, sunlit path. I didn't want to leave in the first place. I need a dustpan. Where's my broom? Who has a leaf blower I can borrow? I've got a path to clear, and I'm using the tools God's placed around me to keep myself on track.
I'm trying. I am. I'm trying to listen to that voice God's placed inside me, the one that says that I'm beautiful, capable, and smart. I'm a good mom, a good friend, and a good wife. I am His daughter, striving to be who He created me to be. And when necessary, I have to whip out my gas-powered leaf blower He's provided for me to clear the many forms of temptations from my path.
I'm trying. I AM.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
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