A Modern Sabbath

Sitting with friends last week, someone smarter than me shared something that had impacted their view of the Sabbath: it doesn’t depend on our participation. Whether we participate or not, God created it, and so it is.

That got me. A needed reminder that God has created for us, given us, this day. And for years, I’ve maybe at best half participated. We try to slow down on Sundays but we’ve never been intentional about it. Until this past week.

Now, if you are any kind of legalist, any grading of our efforts will be harsh. Unless you plan to follow the Orthodox guidelines, pretty much any activity is up for debate on whether it’s rest or work.

Instead, I did something my husband sometimes wishes I wouldn’t: I sat with my feelings for a while. I thought through our typical day and decided what felt and didn’t feel like work. Then, I gave Chuck some space to do the same. Here is the Sabbath we decided on:

• No alarm
  
• No screens
  
• No chores
  
• Attend church
  
• Eat at home
  

Chuck was quick to remind me that the Israelites mostly laid on mats and I think what he may have meant is that I was missing the point. Whatever. Fail to plan and you plan to fail. And actually, planning is the part of this experience I could have done better.

What I forgot until Saturday night is that Sabbathing (new verb) actually takes some real sacrifice, at least in the days leading up to it. I had already prepared meals we could easily assemble on Sunday so I wouldn’t have to cook, but, I forgot that lunches still needed packed for Monday. I had casually mentioned to people we’d be doing this, but, forgot to remind anyone (sorry mom and dad) that my phone would be off all day. These are the kinds of things you can learn as you go I suppose, but, I also think there’s a spiritual principle to preparation. Better preparing our hearts and minds here would have looked like not just picturing ourselves and our Sabbath, but where Sunday is situated in our week and where we are situated in our community. The way I planned for Sabbath was very detail-oriented and reactionary, so, I missed some opportunities to be intentional… As I often do.

To this point, I think I’ve probably helped you completely miss the point… Our Sabbath was not the product of rules. The few things we decided not to do created all the space for the things we decided we should do: we slept extra, we ate well, we worshipped, and we played. Probably the sweetest part of this Sunday was when our son asked us to teach him how to count by 5s, and so, we did. These are the kinds of things Charlie and I do out of the abundance of time we share Monday through Friday while Chuck is at work. It was a reminder that we probably haven’t left enough time in the weekends for Chuck to experience these moments, too.

This is the part where I should tell you, I’m so busy, I never rest, and I learned my lesson… But that’s actually not true. The true story is I still mostly subscribe to that “sleep when the baby sleeps” theory except my baby is 5. But what I amguilty of is viewing rest as my time. Rest has never been a Sabbath for me. It’s looked less like finding the quiet place and more like stomping up the stairs and closing my bedroom door.

Here is what I learned today: God is already doing the work, but it works best when we give Him the space. We hold so tightly to our schedules and our wants that we confuse our needs. Until today, I thought I needed a break… But God already has a name for that need and honestly, Sabbath was so much better than a nap. (Duh.) We have a creative God and we are a created people, and so, we know there is something to creation. I saw that today. The work required for Sabbath is so small compared to the work God does when we give Him the space. And we should. Because it’s His anyway.

Making that Work-at-Home #momlife Work.

It’s time to talk about an undersung hero… And I’m not talking about dry shampoo (this time.) I’m talking about Work-At-Home Moms, or WAHMs if you’re short on time. But since we live in an Internet with many a #momblog, let’s start here: There is no one or best way to mom.

That said… Here I am. Stuck in the middle with you. As a WAHM. And I need to break it down before I have a breakdown.

The sun is never up at 5 AM when you live in the contiguous United States…
But sometimes I am. And it isn’t because my child is crying; he’s almost 3 and with some exceptions, that stopped a long time ago. Rather, it’s because mama has to #DOWORK. Literally. When I was a salaried, “8-5″ employee, there were times I had to login at 5 AM. But I’m going to be honest, it was usually failure to plan on my part. Now, I work at 5 AM because some days it’s the only time I’m guaranteed a quiet work space and enough time to get it done.

Confession: If I wait until he’s in bed, there’s a real risk of falling asleep on my keyboard and accidentally sharing whatever embarrassing celebrity gossip I was reading to my wall.

Work slows when the toddler is sick but stops completely when everyone is sick.
If you are a parent, you know the dread I feel when a cough starts in this house. First I try to reason that it’s something benign. Then once the fever starts, I know no amount of Lysol is going to prevent the inevitable. We are all going to get this and at some point, we will all be sick, and I will still have to adult. Dishes pile up, laundry takes up residence in the hallway, and I start panicking about deadlines. Somehow it gets done between the cuddles and clean-up, but it is the hardest.

I miss personal development. A lot.
When I was a cubicle-dweller, there was an unexpected highlight at the start and end of every week. LinkedIn would send me an article tailored to my industry and position. I would go make an extra cup of coffee, sit down with some headphones, and learn. I learn a lot these days, but it’s more along the lines of how many seconds it takes to rewarm that first cup of coffee. And headphones? Moms aren’t allowed to wear headphones, I don’t think. In fact, Charlie wears my headphones.

You can’t really answer “no” to the question, “Can I call you?”
When you freelance, your value is determined by how quickly you can execute a project. That requires you to be available… But work calls and toddlers can’t happen in the same room. So, this is my exact face every time I read the dreaded “can I call you?” question in an e-mail:

I have the same thought each time, “How much screen time has Charlie had today?” If it’s none, I give myself way too much credit and run for the iPad. If it’s some, I start negotiating with the perfect mom in my head who has something to prove. “He won’t get any tomorrow. Or ever. Until college.” But I still run for that iPad… Because how ELSE can you talk to someone who pays you to be responsive but can also hear the toddler yelling, “I DID A POOP” in the background?

In between story time and snacks, sometimes my plans fall apart…
Sometimes a babysitter catches whatever we had last week. (Sorry!) Sometimes a day spent working ends with a night of revisions. (The writers feel me!) But sometimes, there is this:

The best interruption. And the reason us #WAHMs keep hustling.

Notes to Charlie.

If I stop to think about it for too long, it makes me sad that you won’t understand my love for you until you have a baby of your own. But until then, I want to make sure I keep a few notes of the times I loved you so much it almost hurt. Today was one of those days. I was watching a video of a man finding out he was going to become a grandpa and it reminded me of when we told your grandmas and grandpas that you would be joining us soon. There were tears and laughter and now I know that moment probably meant much more to them than it did to us, though I didn’t know it at the time. They knew that you were about to change our hearts completely. You have changed my heart completely. I live fuller and love deeper because of you, and not just in my own small world… I’m capable of feeling so much now for people I will never even meet. Thank you for making me better in that way.

Recipe: Pumpkin Pantry Bars

By the time this posts, I will have already had a pumpkin pantry bar for breakfast. (With some coffee that isn’t Starbucks because I have to break that habit.)

Pantry bars are my version of granola bars, a recipe I adapted from granola bar bites à la Witty in the City that I first pinned, I don’t know, 2 years ago?

So why do I call them pantry bars? Well, I discovered something magic: So long as you keep the ratio of oats:banana:usually applesauce (we’ll get to this in a moment) the same, you can pretty much get away with anything else you have in your pantry. In this case, I substituted canned pumpkin for applesauce because I don’t care how over pumpkin all of you are, I’m not.

So, let’s get this pumpkin party started:

Ingredients

• 2 ripe bananas
• ½ cup canned pumpkin
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• ¼ tsp nutmeg
• ¼ tsp ground ginger
• Dash of salt
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• ¼ cup maple syrup
• 2/3 cup brown sugar
• 4 cups rolled oats
• 1 cup chocolate chips
• ½ cup crushed nuts*
• ½ cup raisins
• ½ cup dried coconut

Step 1: Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.

Step 2: Peel your bananas, pop them in a mixer with your canned pumpkin, and start a-mixin’. Don’t have a mixer? I suppose you can mash them in a mixing bowl, but I’m just going to keep it real: I am literally in love with my Kitchenaid. Some people, before they have children, have pets; and they love them like children. I had a Kitchenaid. Like Charlie, she also has a family name: Gladys. Let me introduce you…

Step 3: Add your spices, salt, vanilla extract, maple syrup, and brown sugar. Mix until well combined, brown sugar has dissolved.

Step 4: Add the oats, combine, then add the rest of your ingredients. *For chopped nuts, the recipe usually calls for slivered almonds. However, I only had a ¼ cup so I used another ¼ cup of chopped pecans to complete the ½ cup. This was especially appropriate for pumpkin, keeping the flavor seasonal.

Step 5: Prepare a muffin tin with baking spray. Witty in the City suggests a mini muffin tin, but that’s just silliness. 1. I eat these for breakfast and a mini muffin just would not suffice. 2. There are chocolate chips involved which necessitates the largest portion size I can reasonably get away with.

Step 6: Using a medium cookie scoop, scoop the mixture into a greased muffin tin circle. Press the mixture firmly into the bottom of the circle like so:

Step 7: Bake for ~20 minutes until the edges are browned, let sit for 5 minutes, finish cooling on a rack. (Repeat! I get a little more than 2 dozen.)

Another reason I love this recipe: Sounds strange, but they’re actually best cold. Witty in the City says the same thing. Once they’re cooled, I pop them all into a gallon size freezer bag and just grab one for breakfast on the go.

Now, go raid your pantry and get your pumpkin on.

Another letter to you, at 7 months…

I knew that you would teach me things, but I guess I thought I’d have an opportunity to teach you a couple first.

So long as I can recall, I have suffered from the same fatal flaw. With little understanding or appreciation for God’s will, I held tight to what I thought was right. How I should look, how clean my house should be, and most dangerously, how others might perceive me.

I have always known that I needed to learn to “bloom where I was planted” and to embrace my life right now with all of its blessings. But instead I found myself doing what we all do… Worrying about how to reach the next goal, pushing myself to cross once more task off my list.

You, Charlie, have taught me how to show myself grace.

In things big and small, whether it’s working toward our next home or getting one more load of laundry done at the end of a long day, I have learned how to smile in my current circumstances because I know all too well now how fast the time goes.

And it’s all because of you. Watching your littlest days pass so quickly, I have been given the gift of perspective. I now know that no matter what we have or don’t have, what we’ve done or still have yet to do, today is so short.

Most days, just after dinner, I have two choices: I can start getting ready for tomorrow, or I can spend another hour with you.

Every time, I choose you… And I know I will forever be grateful that I did.

My Charlie,

These are the days I’m going to want to remember. You woke up at 9 a.m. ready to play with a smile on your face. We sat next to each other on the couch and you talked to me about the news, I watched you learn and discover in your exersaucer while I had my morning coffee. We spread out your toys and laid down on your playmat. I helped you reach your favorites and tickled your back. You laughed and I smiled. Then, just a short hour later, you started getting tired eyes. I scooped you up and carried you upstairs while you twisted to see everything around you. I changed your diaper, put you into something warm, and fed you a bottle while we rocked in the dark on this cloudy day. When the bottle was finished, your eyes were closed, and I thought about how perfect your little face is. When I laid you down, you didn’t even move or make a noise. You were already asleep, safe and sound.

I LOVE being your mom.

Goose-n Morgen.

If nothing else, these kinds of situational comedies that seem to happen to me on the daily might just keep my blog alive…

So this morning, I drop Charlie off at his grandma’s per usual. I give him his kiss goodbye and exit through the garage. As I get out of the garage and walk toward my Jeep, I hear a noise. I literally jumped up because it definitely sounded like wildlife.

At first I decided to disregard, then, it happened again and it sounded closer. Panic set in. I started to think about what might be making this noise, decided it must be a goose, and prepared to meet my match on the driver’s side of my Jeep.

As I’m about to turn that corner, AGAIN, just to my right… Was my back windshield wiper, scraping across the dry window, sounding exactly like an angry goose.