Growing in music

I decided yesterday that I need to learn to play a new instrument.  My grandmother, a piano teacher that was of the thought that perfection is the goal of music, would shudder at the thought of me attempting yet another instrument.  I will agree that I play 2 instruments and I'm not an expert at either.  I do, however, thoroughly enjoy both so why not add a third?

I'm encouraging my older boys to start piano lessons next fall.  I've told all 3 boys that my dream for them is that they all can play the piano better than I can.  Granted, I play well.  I can sight read well and accompany at my bible study.  Not perfectly, but I do a darn good job.  I can also transpose into any key.  Very helpful to our guitar player on the praise team.  If they play as well as I do I will be a very happy mom.  But who's stopping me from dreaming big?

Aaron and I both love music.  He is interesting with music.  He loves to analyze how all the parts of an orchestra fit together to make the beautiful sound.  I'm more right brain with it--I love the poetry of music and how it makes me feel.  It's my favorite way to worship the Lord.

As I was talking to the boys about them learning their first instrument, I thought it would be a great time for me to undertake a new instrument as well.  Since I've been married to Aaron, he's taught himself to play the tuba as well as the banjo.  He had piano lessons as a boy and played the trumpet well in high school, but just before the twins were born our church orchestra's tubist was graduating and going off to college, so the call went out for a new tubist.  Aaron decided to be it.  He worked hard to learn bass cleff and he succeeded in playing the tuba.  I love that about him.

About a year ago he watched me play the guitar with the boys.  I hold my fingers on the frets and I let them strum as we would sing.  Aaron wanted to be a part of that, so he decided to learn to play the banjo.  He has.  I've become a better guitar player as we play together from time to time.

A regret I have about high school is that I didn't play in the band or orchestra even though many of my friends did.  I sang in the show choir (jazz hands!) my sophomore year because I wasn't good enough to make the cut for jr and sr year.  (I couldn't do back hand-springs.  Seriously.  It was a huge high school). 

As an adult, I want to play the cello.  I don't want to play it in the church orchestra;  I just want to play because I love the richness of the sound.  I told this to my family at dinner last night and Aaron thought it was a great idea.  He asked why the cello.  I told him that its music makes me feel like a butterfly.  That coming out of the mouth of a 35 year old woman should illicit a laugh, but it didn't.  After dinner, he found a cellist on You Tube to show the boys.  We discussed all about the instrument.  He looked up online how much this ridiculous plan will cost.  I need to save my pennies, but it's doable.

He's also happy because a bluegrass band he likes has records for banjo and cello duets.  He thinks we should tackle one.  Big dreamer, my man.

I love that I'm married to a man that encourages me to be my best.  I love that we share a passion for music.  So much of what I do is drudgery.  That's just life.  Yes, I could say no to more things and that could help.  But this life will have sorrow, toil and gross stuff.  It will miss the mark to perfect happiness.  I know this earth can't give true happiness but I like the thought of doing something so totally just for me. 

I also love that Aaron wants cheer me on to be a butterfly.  What more could a gal ask for?

Lessons learned

As I'm working through this book, Restless, I can say that reflecting back on my happiest memories was way more enjoyable than reflecting back to times of suffering.

I loved listing proudly my happy times.  Who wouldn't?  I'm not going to do the same with times of suffering.  Suffice it to say that in comparison to how evil this world can be, my road has been very easy.  Not perfect, but I have much to be grateful for.

The author pointed out a beautiful point that justified going down the not fun paths of memory lane:  "In the messiest waste of our lives comes the most fertile soil."  --Jennie Allen from Restless.  Wow.  That's a really profound statement.

I was adopted as a baby.  My parents were unable to have children and were thrilled to be able to adopt my older brother and me.  I know I'm loved by them but in my heart of hearts I've always felt like I had to earn their love.  I'm a people pleaser and I think it's because I want to earn the acceptance of those around me.  This often includes God.  In the faith versus works discussion, I really like works.  I can make a checklist and check those things off.  Yes, I know my legalistic bend isn't of God.  As I've matured in my faith I've found that it's sinful. 

I love that I married a non-people pleaser.  It's wonderfully freeing to watch him say no and feel no guilt.  He confuses my mom who really believes all people are people pleasers except those who choose to be rude.  Sons 1 and 3 are pleasers.  Son 2 often confuses her as well.

My love language is words of affirmation.  It should be no surprise that I offer words of encouragement to people very regularly because it's what I want to hear.

My heart breaks for the lonely, the sad, the downtrodden, the one just on the outside.  I asked my husband once what part of the body of Christ I am.  My friend Jenny is clearly the heart as she mercifully helps in any way she can.  Anna is the smile as hospitality and offering true warmth is natural to her.  He replied in a way that made me glad I married him, "You're the arms.  You open your arms to all and make them feel welcomed."  How beautiful to be understood.

It wasn't fun to recall those sad and painful moments in my life, but it helped me see that they've had a part of shaping me into who I am.  God uses all for good, even the dark blots we wish weren't there.

Saying no

Living on a budget is a blessing, but it sure it hard.  My husband and I have a good system (thanks to Dave Ramsey) in which we have a discussion at the beginning of each month and we assign where every dollar will go.

This month, an event came up that I really wanted to do, but when I came time to register for it, the money just wasn't there.  So I said no.  It was a color run for our school's benevolent fund.  What a cool concept.  My 2 oldest boys were going to do the 1 mile walk with me.  What a great moment to share with them!  But part of being an adult is recognizing that we can't always do everything we want to do.

Bummer.  The silver lining is that our family is going to a birthday party later that afternoon so I know doing both events in one day would have been a stretch.

I may get lucky and boys #1 and 2 won't notice we're missing the color run.  If they ask, I'll be honest but non-dramatic.  I don't want them to get the message that we have so little money that they have to worry, but I do want them to learn the message that money, like time, energy and many other things, is limited.  We used our entertainment budget for camping and other things. 

I was challenged recently to focus on the donut and not the hole.  With budgeting, that hole sure is pretty.  So many things I want that I just don't have the money for. 

Lord, thanks for all the blessings I have.  Help me be content this day and give me the wisdom to teach it to my boys.

Taking time to celebrate

I'm working though Restless by Jennie Allen.  It's a wonderful book that is taking me through a journey to figure out what I should be doing now.  Very reflective and a great thing for me at this point.

Yesterday I wrote about feeling apprehension about taking my youngest to a new MDO as well as dropping off the job application.  Both events went well.  #3 loves his new teacher and even had a friend already in the class.  He's very excited about his new school for fall.

I love blue bonnets.  Here in Texas, they bloom for a few weeks every spring.  When I married, I had a good friend take pictures of me in my wedding dress and cowboy boots in the blue bonnets.  We were a sight--Kathryn, my dear, sweet friend doing dress control so that the flowers or grass wouldn't stain my dress (my mom's nightmare) while my friend snapped photos.  The pictures are some of my favorites.

Anyway, when we went to my new school to drop off my application, there were blue bonnets!  Tons of them!  I chose to see that God was using His beauty to remind me that seasons change, children grow, opportunities for growth come our way and He is still God;  He doesn't change.  A dear friend, Kimberly, sent me a text with verses from the Bible that reminded me of the same thing.  God is very good.

I believe worship means to take a moment and see the fingerprints of God.  I worship corporately through music at church often and love it, but I also worship when I see blue bonnets and am reminded of God's love.  I worship when I laugh with my sons as we plan our water gun wars this summer.  The more I worship the closer I am to God.  I remember hearing before that thankfulness should be like the sound track for our daily lives.  What a lovely thought.

Anyway.  As I'm working through Restless, yesterday the challenge was to journal a highlight from each life stage.  Moments that made me proud and satisfied.

This particular moment isn't one--#3 should be in "room time" in which he doesn't nap anymore (boo) but he's expected to play by himself while I have some me time.  He just came in my room to let me know I need to get the plunger to work on the toilet in the boy bathroom, but he can talk me through it because he's seen Dad do it before.  Lovely.

I had some time to myself yesterday and over a cup of coffee I reflected on favorite moments.  What a wonderful exercise.  It was kind of hard to get started, but once I got going I was surprised by how wonderful and rich my list was.  I thought I would share a handful here.  I don't know why, but we don't seem to be a culture that celebrates the little moments often.  It's too bad.  The little moments are the ones that make us who we are.  And yet the moments like the toilet are the ones we seem to talk about.  Hmmm.

Here are a few of my moments:
0-6 years:  swinging on the swingset, swimming at the city pool at my Grandma's house, having blueberry muffins for special occasions

7-12 years:  playing in piano recitals, winning 5th grade class president

13-18 years:  being in the high school musicals, excelling in drama and speaking competitions, enjoying time with the girls in my youth group at church camp, mission trips and spending time together, going to OU basketball games with my dad

19-24 years:  getting my first job, becoming fluent in Spanish after lots of hard work in grad school, living in Spain for a year, meeting and falling in love with Aaron, becoming a teacher

25+:  loving teaching--the joy of watching children grow, the fun of bonding a classroom family together, the laughter, the challenge of helping each child reach his/her potential--, the moment when I knew I was going to be a mom, the moment when we saw we were going to have twins, learning to lean on God and admit I wasn't "enough" to do all this on my own, figuring out that God never promised me that this life would be a rose garden, having good friends to be real with and share the ugly moments with, tent camping with my family, seeing the pride on son #2's face when he figured out how to use the potty the first time, watching #1's pride as he told Aaron, "Dad, I can read!", singing "Low in the Grave He Lay" during breakfast with the boys last Easter...

And the list could go on, but room time is at an end. God is good.  How beautiful to take a moment to celebrate some of the good moments I've been blessed with.  The next assignment is to write about deep hurts.  I'm taking a few deep breaths before I delve down that path.

Frosty windshield

I have just a few moments before #3 and I head out to do errands, but in these moments I'm going to collect my thoughts.

As I write, I've given little guy the VBS Oriental Trading Co catalog and he's to mark anything he loves with a sticky note.  He's in hog heaven.

Yesterday I thoroughly enjoyed writing a submission to MOPs about what my mom taught me about beauty, but it left me frazzled.  I'm not a deadline person.  I know women who are, but deadlines stress me out.  Today I'm not feeling rested or relaxed and to be my best for #3, I need to be.

Added to it, today as a part of our errands, we're going by #3's new MDO next year.  I've taken boys to the same MDO since my twins were about 18 months.  They're now 6 1/2.  6 years I've had kids in this program.  I've made the decision for #3 to go to a new program next fall for a few reasons.  The biggest is that with his late birthday, he would be in the program's oldest class again next year.  That was fine for his brothers because they were catching up, but not this guy.  I think a new program would just be good for him--new toys, new expectations, etc.  It's also closer to where I'll be working on the days he's there as well as it starts 30 minutes earlier which will also work better with my schedule.

See, this is a great choice.  So why do I feel sad?  I remember bawling when I first visited our current MDO.  Friends watched the twins when I went to meet the director and I cried before I even spoke.  She was so loving and kind.

We're also taking my completed application for my new job.  We're just dropping it off, but I still feel nervous.  Also I know it's right, but my heart and head are not really agreeing.  Yet.

This morning there was frost on my wind shield.  We were 2 minutes later getting in the car and I had to scrape the window.  It really ticked me off.  At who?  Not sure.  My husband because I remember my dad doing that for me when I lived at home (pesky expectations in marriage!) or at myself for not checking ahead of time.  I think the emotions just needed to boil over.  We made it to school just fine, not even tardy. 

I've learned this year through my bible study of the Old Testament that the Israelites felt like God didn't love them when things were rough.  This missed the point that God loves us always, but we still face adversity.

God is with me today as I'm feeling unsettled.  He was with me when I threw my mental tantrum about the wind shield.  He's here as change is coming my way.  Time to take a deep breath, surrender my desire to control everything and accept His love and support for this day.  And get packed up to do what needs doing, gracefully.

Pretty is as Pretty Does

This afternoon, I read on the MOPS website that they needed submissions for their summer magazine about being a woman.  Lots of topics were given and writers were encouraged to submit a 450 word piece by...today.

I read the email at 2:30.  As I waited in line for dismissal, I did a web of my thoughts.  When we got home, I let the boys watch Wild Kratts while I wrote out my piece.  I emailed it off, did homework with the boys and now I'm posting it here.  I wish I could have had a bit more time to polish it and make the idea a bit clearer, but hey, it's done and I'm pretty darn pleased with how it turned out. 

Hope you enjoy.  The prompt:  A beauty legacy:  what your mom taught you about being a woman

My mom taught me many things:  how to cut my meat, how to shave my legs and how to be pretty.  I remember her saying (usually as a way of correcting me) that “Pretty is as pretty does.”

At the time, I found this phrase annoying.  I just wanted to be pretty but I didn’t want to have any responsibility for it.  Now that I’m an adult I have a deeper understanding of what prettiness is to others and what I choose it means to me.

We’re in a season of life that isn’t very glamorous.  Our clothes are stained, they rarely fit and me time includes have the luxury of trimming toe nails.  If we’re really lucky, we slap on some polish.

I asked my son what the prettiest thing about me is. Happily he told me, “Your pretty red hair, Mommy!”  I’ll admit it:  I really like my hair. Mom’s comment about prettiness being internal is more reassuring to me now that I’m watching grey take over.  I’ve made peace with the fact that aging is slowly finding its way to me even though I still would give the whole process a big “thumbs down.”

That being said, I understand at a deeper level know my mom’s sage wisdom about beauty because I’ve known plenty of beautiful women whose actions detract from their appearance.  Actions reflect a person’s true nature; physical beauty is just a happy coincidence.  It makes me think of a beautiful painting that is breath taking, but if you scratch the surface you quickly find that the beauty ends at the canvas.  In the same way, you can put on a show for a while, but true internal beauty will be revealed by what you do.

What reflects a beautiful character?  A love of Jesus that reflects His goodness to others.  Seeing a need and doing something about it, like taking a meal to a mom, mowing the lawn so her husband doesn’t have yet another thing to do on his day off or just showing up when she says she will. 

There are lots of things I can’t change.  My appearance is pretty much set.  I’m a short redhead until I’m a short grey-head.   I can’t make choices for my children, even though I sure try to.  I can’t change that there’s injustice in this world.  But I can choose not to give up.  I can choose to be Nice Mommy during the morning rush of getting the family out the door instead of being Mrs Cranky Pants.  Not easy, but the right choice because pretty is as pretty does.

When do I get a turn?

This posting will be whiny.  If you're not in the mood for that, check in another day.  I'm like a pressure cooker (which I've never acutally used, but I have the basic concept in my mind).  I get all this pent up emotion and it just has to come out.  A favorite way is to just talk, talk, talk and talk to my husband about it, but he's not such a fan of that.  So here we are.

I've spent a bit of time today designing a Shutterfly book for my mom for Mother's Day.  I really do enjoy scrapbooking, but digital scrapbooking isn't as fulfilling for me.  I like to actually feel the paper on my fingers.  But for her, I'll happily do it.  I decided to make it a chronological book of our joint Mother's Days since I've become a mom.  Very sweet project that I know she'll love.

I even decided to go ahead and design my own gift from Shutterfly that the boys will give to me.  I've never done that before, but there's a great sale on, shipping will already be paid and why not?  Better than the gift that Aaron would not even get for me if I didn't nag him.

Wow.  That sounded angry.  Since my posting here about my exsistential (I don't have the patience to correct my spelling there) crisis, a whirlwind of running into a friend who knew about a job led to an interview and a job offer.  I accepted.  Yikes.  Now I'm in this weird land of "What did I do?"

I liken it to being a baby bird in a nest.  For the past few years I've been home with my boys.  It hasn't been a tea party and I didn't want to stay there forever, but I was comfortable.  Now I can see that this stage of my life is going to change.  I know I'll still be a mom and I know my role in my boys' lives will still be crucial, but my time will be spent differently.  I'm grieving that time has passed.

I was at MOPs yesterday and I was struck by how much life has changed since September.  We started the year with many pregnancies and now how lots of babies.  I'm happy for them, but I reminded me that they're still very much in MOPsLand.  I'm not.  And it's OK.

The other day Aaron asked if I want another baby.  Kathryn, a dear friend, had baby Allison and I got to hold her last weekend.  Beautiful baby girl.  Yes, I would love to have a girl; a sweet redheaded little angel to wear matching dresses with and paint my nails with.  But, I have a peace that 3 is a how many children I need.  With my luck, if I were to get pregnant again I would just add another boy to my brood and he would be louder and smellier than the rest.

No, a baby isn't what I need.  I just need time to accept that time passes and it's OK.  Worry is hard for me.  With going back to work looming in the future I worry.  I told Taylor, a sweet friend who works very successfully part-time while she has 3 sons, about my worry.  When I told her my biggest worry--when I'll go to the grocery store--she laughed.  Actually chuckled.  It was a light moment that made me see that in the light of eternity, I'm being silly.

I thrive on routine.  No, I thrive on control.  Routine is just wanting to control everything around me.  I even love scrapbooking because it's a tangible way to make order of chaos.  I realize that sounded super hoaky considering it's my hobby and my pages are far from being works of art, but I like order.

Aaron has this weird theory that all Muppets are order or chaos Muppets.  They either create havoc or they try to make order of it.  Miss Piggy?  Chaos.  Kermit?  Order.  Animal?  Chaos.  Crazy chef guy?  Chaos.  Two of my sons land firmly in the chaos camp and son #1 and I live happily in the Order part of the world.  Take my order away and I get cranky.

This new job is an exciting opportunity and the logical part of me knows it's going to be wonderful.  A way for me to grow professionally and positively impact young adults.  Super duper cool.  But I still have to figure out when to go to the grocery store.

When I was at Baylor, we taught at Welcome Week that there are 4 parts to a person:  intellectual, spiritual, physical and emotional.  All parts to the wheel have to be maintained.  Adding motherhood to the burden of the wheel makes the balance of those things so difficult.  It seems the emotion part of the wheel overinflates as the intellectual part shrinks.

Part of me is excited that the intellectual part of my brain will be challenged again.  I've missed using Spanish and I'll be teaching it.  I know I will enjoy it.  The other parts of the wheel will still be there and I know I can figure out how to balance all this.

Especially when I can write whiny posts like this one.