God

For My Thirtieth…an Attitude Adjustment

lindseygendke12 Comments

IMG_1580For my thirtieth birthday, I got a makeover…of my attitude. I haven’t blogged for two months because I took time off, intending, in fact, to come back a “new woman.” But when I said “Goodbye for July” (and August, as it turns out), I only intended to revamp my website and my writer persona—not my whole person. God had other ideas.

The makeover God wanted to give me was not primarily professional. It was more, shall we say, domestic? He wanted to make me into a loving, attentive mother. Self-sacrificing, patient, and wise, like Jesus was as he dealt with his children. This is not the woman I was focused on becoming as I signed off for July—at least, not the woman I wanted to be full-time.

I wanted to have this separate space in my life for the writer persona that has emerged through this blog and my other projects in the past two years.

On my new (but hardly dazzling) website, I have branded myself thus: “Lindsey Gendke: Writing True Stories for His Glory.” I wrote that tagline for potential memoir publishers, and maybe even clients one day (and because it describes my recently published works). I also wrote a lovely bio to characterize this blog and direct my future writings: “I am a happy writer, wife, teacher, and mom who doesn’t mind sharing that she used to be depressed,” et cetera, et cetera.

But after I signed off for my break in July (and after life got really busy, and Sam got really mobile), I couldn’t find time to write. I became unhappy, and I didn’t  want to share that with this audience. Ironic, huh?

It didn’t even matter that my first book, The Hidden Half of the Gospel, was published during those weeks (more in my next post). I still felt rotten.

Suddenly I became hard to live with because all I could do was complain about the lack of time I had to write. I found myself repeatedly apologizing to my husband for my nagging and hurtful words, and vowing to do better the next day. But the next day I only repeated my word crimes again.

Confession: sometimes when I’m stressed, I swear, and these negative months were no exception. Buc told me I better get my sporadic swearing outbursts under control before Sam was old enough to know what I was saying. But I knew I needed to get more than my words under control. I looked around at my life—beautiful baby, loving husband, nice house, good friends, PUBLISHED BOOK!—and I could not understand all the negative words flying out of my mouth.

I tried to write this post a few times…but found the words coming out so negative that I just couldn’t publish them, not in their totality. Here is one paragraph of clarity that slapped me in the face, though:

“I am disturbed sometimes by my lack of patience for Sam, my annoyance at how he disrupts my plans. I hate the wrong attitude I see in myself. Where is that love that conquers all? The love that doesn’t mind beginning the day at 4:20 because your sick baby is ready to get up? The love that is happy to put someone else’s needs before your wants? Sometimes I hate what motherhood shows me about myself. I hate how selfish it tells me I am.”

Yikes.

There it was, in plain black and white: I needed an attitude adjustment. That’s when I started doing everything I could think of to redirect, and correct, my thinking, flooding my mind with positive influences such as Christian radio programs, Scripture, books on mothering, and encouragement from my mommy friends.

I did not feel an instant change. Over a period of weeks, I had good moments and bad. But little by little, God spoke to me, until finally one day, He gave me a breakthrough.

As I tried to write this blog post one last time, and as I looked at the negative words I had previously penned, a switch tripped in my brain.

Wow, I thought to myself. Why am I complaining so much?

Suddenly, God brought to mind all the prayers he had recently answered.

  • I asked him for a book published by age thirty—he gave me one.
  • I asked for a baby—he gave me one.
  • I asked for a calling to touch hearts—and I believe he gave me one through the writing of my memoir.

With the realization of these answered prayers came instant repentance, a prayer of thanks, and my much-needed attitude change. Really, just like that.

I suddenly understood that it was time to rest from writing—at least in the professional sense. I understood now that writing more books might happen during later seasons of life, but right now is not one of those seasons.

I also suddenly remembered telling Buc, before we conceived, that I wanted my thirties to be a decade of relaxing from work and enjoying family. Now, I felt absolutely convicted that my first duty was to my family, and I regretted that I’d brought so much negativity and resentment to that sphere, treating my home duties as burdens rather than my calling. I understood that I had entered a new season of life—family, motherhood—and while I might find a moment here or there to write, writing could not be my primary focus right now. Not when my baby needed me, and not when my husband needed me.

It felt so freeing to hear God speak to me that way, and I’ve felt peaceful ever since. Over a week has gone by, in which time I didn’t do any writing, but I was okay with that, because I was taking care of my family—my primary job.

So, now that I have undergone my attitude adjustment, what happens with this blog?

I have decided to keep the “Writing True Stories for His Glory” tagline, because it describes the professional work I have completed, and one purpose of this site is to promote that work.

IMG_1647But as far as future posts? Right now I am a mother at home with my baby, trying to work out my faith through the trials of everyday life, and hoping to find a little writing time on the side. In a way, I guess my blogging counts as a story for His glory, because humans need to see faith worked out in the mundaneness of everyday life—otherwise, what good is faith?

God is doing something beautiful in my life, and it doesn’t exclude writing. It just means writing is not the end goal of my days right now—not for this season. That said, I hope this blog will be a witness to God’s continuing transformation in my heart and my mind. Specifically, I want to become more Christlike through my role as a mother, and I think that’s a story worth telling.

 

 

Goodbye for July, and What’s Next for this Writer (Including a Thirtieth Birthday)

lindseygendke7 Comments
This pic doesn't really go with this post, but why not? A cute baby is always in season, right?
This pic doesn’t really go with this post, but why not? A cute baby is always in season, right?

This post may be my last for the rest of July. I need to take care of those neglected areas of life that I referenced in my last post. But I wanted to say goodbye; I will miss connecting with my readers until I get back. Here’s what I’ll be doing the rest of the month.

Facing my Fears of Technology

I’ve put off two things I need to do, just because I don’t really know how to do them: making prints of Sam’s first six months so I can start photo albums and give relatives baby pictures, and turning this blog into a website. The longer I wait, the bigger, hairier, and scarier these things seem, and it’s ridiculous.

I’m a bit embarrassed, especially of my failure to print baby pictures. Shouldn’t I know how to do this? (The issue is getting them from my iphone—which I don’t know how to use very well—to the computer, to Wal-mart’s printing center, then deciding which ones I want to frame and give away. It would have been a lot easier with only one or two months of photos—six months is burying me). I’ve often said I would have fit in a lot better in Victorian culture—you know, the Jane Austen picture of women sitting around reading books, playing piano, writing letters. I would be awesome at this life! But alas, I live in the twenty-first century, and I must adapt.

As for my website, I’m going to start by purchasing the domain name “Lindsey Gendke” from WordPress. Beyond that, I have sketched out what I want my website to look like, but I don’t know how to get there yet. This will require some hours spent studying the resources put out by the friendly WordPress staff. It’s a very doable task, judging by the wealth of resources available, and I’m a pretty good student; I just don’t like doing research of this nature. However, as an author, it will be a good investment of my time now to be able to maintain my site later, hopefully when I have a book or two published. On that note…

Wrapping up My Book Projects

In anticipation of the soon release of The Hidden Half of the Gospel: How His Suffering Can Heal Yours, I am helping Paul Coneff write promotional material, like our author bios (for the book website) and a “super article” conveying the book’s thesis. I have been working with this project for two years and am more than eager to see The Hidden Half in its final form—as is Paul. This is definitely a priority right now!

Now that I’ve proposed my own book, my memoir, to a certain publisher God led me to, I want to ready the rest of the manuscript, should they ask to see it. Whether or not this publisher buys the thing, I’m determined to place it somewhere, so it needs to get done one way or the other. I know my husband, for one, wants me to finally get this book out of my bones, because I’ve been “talking his ears off” about it for years! I’m ready to release it, too.

Celebrating Thirty Years

This month I am celebrating thirty years of life, an accomplishment I am pretty proud of, considering I tried to depart this life round about a decade ago. Five years ago I made it a personal goal to do two, maybe three, things before I turned thirty: I wanted to get my master’s degree—check; I wanted to publish a book—my hopes are on the Hidden Half making the cutoff; and I maybe, kinda, sorta, considered having a kid—check! All in all, it has been a successful past half decade, and I am very happy with my life overall. I continue to marvel everyday at the “spacious place” into which God has brought me, and I look forward to telling others about that for the rest of my life.

To celebrate my thirty years, we have planned a birthday party at my church that will include playing volleyball and eating a Dairy Queen cake—two good memories from childhood. Yippee! I also, with mixed emotions, lined up my mother-in-law to babysit Sam for three days while my hubby and I get away to a little cabin in the woods. I will miss the little squirt, but I know I will REALLY enjoy the down time, and the quiet time.

So that’s what’s in the works for me this month. It’s probably enough to do without trying to maintain a blog. Please wish me luck with my technology goals, and please send up a prayer for my book projects if you’re into those sorts of things (prayer and books starring God, I mean). Thanks so much, and happy July!

 

 

Post-Traumatic Stresses of Growing up in a “Messy” Home

lindseygendke5 Comments

photo 2It’s hard to move on with life when your home is in shambles. I say this because of the never ending construction going on in my house right now—but I also mean it in the emotional sense.

Did you grow up in a home with lots of fighting? Uncertainty about the future? Fear that Mom and Dad might split? Then you might know what I’m talking about. It’s hard to move on, it’s hard to grow up, when your home life is in shambles.

Today I had trouble focusing on my to-dos, primarily because my house is a wreck and has been for almost two months. When I finally got Sam down for a nap, I had to pray extra hard and reread my index cards of Bible promises just so I could move on with the day. My brain felt so cluttered I knew I could not be productive unless God cleared things up. The verse that most calmed me: “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee” (Isa. 26:3). As I concentrated on God, my scattered thoughts, well, scattered. And then, Sam woke up…an hour and a half before he was supposed to (grr). Glad God calmed me beforehand!

I wish I had learned to rely on God earlier in life. When I was a teenager, my home was in shambles, in the emotional sense, and I suffered in many ways, for many years to come.

I didn’t rely on God. I relied on keeping busy to numb my pain. I relied on building up myself and my skills, determined to acquire things that no one could ever take from me. In the early years, those things included a straight-A record, a good reputation, and lots of experiences to pad my college applications. In my adult life, they translated into two college degrees, a full plate at church, and a teaching career: AKA, resume builders.

photo 3

These things aren’t bad in and of themselves. But they’re bad when you do them to avoid confronting your pain. Life gets lopsided really quickly when you do those pain-stuffing behaviors to the detriment of everything else.

I’ve come a long way from the life I’m describing. I finally gave up the career chase to have a kid, for one. And I’m making a concentrated effort to relax in my thirties (wait, did I just contradict myself?). But I still feel myself lagging behind in plenty of areas.

Because I married when I was twenty, I’ve been able to shunt many adult responsibilities onto my husband’s plate: paying bills; navigating home, life, and car insurance; and setting up internet service, to name a few. I don’t know the cost of our monthly bills, and I wouldn’t know who to call if our electricity went out. Perhaps, most shamefully, I still don’t understand how to read and/or fill out a W2 (or is a W4?) when I start a new job. I am always embarrassed at needing help to fill it out. (But amazingly, I don’t take the time to correct this lack of knowledge).

For that matter, many, many things around me go unnoticed, things I should know just by virtue of living on planet earth or living in Texas.

Exhibit A: When I was twenty, I voted in my first presidential election without knowing the difference between Republicans and Democrats.

Exhibit B: When my parents visited from Minnesota and we walked around my neighborhood and they asked, “What kind of tree is that?” “What kind of plant is that?” “What kind of bird is that?” I had to repeatedly answer, “I don’t know,” “I don’t know,” “I don’t know.” I did not know, and I did not care.

Exhibit C: Sam was born with a large birthmark on his shoulder (I mean LARGE), which turned out to be an “infantile hemangioma,” or a benign tumor, according to his skin care specialist—and when my friend asked me about the long-term effects and other basic questions, I had to answer, “I don’t really know, but the doctor said not to worry, so I’m choosing not to.” Shouldn’t a mom be curious about these things? Shouldn’t she bother to know? Nonetheless, I still haven’t done any research.

Why don’t I bother to know more about my surroundings, or my son’s skin condition?

Probably the biggest reason is I feel my brain only has so much room, and to overload it is to risk meltdown. (That must be a lie, a bad root, I gained in adolescence—I’ll have to pray about that one some more.) Similarly, I have trouble adding new things to my routine: for instance, everyone tells me I need a Pinterest account—”It would make life so much easier”—but the thought of having to regularly check one more website confounds me (keeping up with my blog is hard enough!).

photo 1I simply don’t have room in my brain to accommodate one more thing. Which is why I used to be oblivious to the news. My husband would ask me what I thought about some really big news item, and I’d respond with a blank stare. Happily, caring for Sam has helped me to turn on the news almost daily (I get bored with bottles and diapers all day), so my news knowledge has increased about 100%.

My point is that I’m still decompressing from growing up in an emotionally messy home. For many years it took all my energy to put one foot in front of the other and take care of myself (I didn’t realize that God already had my back)—how could I care about the world around me? It’s only by God’s grace that I’m here today, somehow swimming in the current of adult life.

God has been gentle with my transition back into the world, giving me a loving husband and plenty of guardian angels to guide and protect my uninformed, oblivious steps. It’s hard to move on, it’s hard to grow up, when your home life is in shambles. But by his grace, people can do it. And because of his goodness, I am.

 

Duck Dynasty, my “Mommy Coworker,” and other Goings-on in my Crazy, Busy Life

lindseygendke4 Comments

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I am thankful this morning for unexpected good things, including my new Ford F150 (our first family vehicle) and Duck Dynasty. That’s a sentence I never thought I’d write. I never pictured myself driving a truck as my primary vehicle, or watching those “silly” rednecks by choice. My main focus for now is still working on my book during naptimes—now I’m on to my book proposal, with a particular editor in view. But in the meantime, God continues to fill my life with other interesting stuff, and I’m glad for it.

For instance, I’ve made a new friend in my next-door-neighbor, who gave birth to twins two weeks before Sam was born. She has been such a blessing to this homebound mama, because she has become almost like a “coworker” (in the business of mothering babies) to commiserate with and compare stories. (We SAHMS miss that coworker/adult banter.) We take the babies for walks once or twice a week, swap books, discuss those books (a built-in book club! What could be better?), and text each other. Tonight we will attempt a movie night at her house once the babies go to bed. God has given me lots of friends over the past few years, and I love their awesome uniqueness equally, but there is something to be said for having friends, and family, close by. Logistically, you can do so much more with family and friends who are physically close.

Construction, and reconstruction, on parts of our house continues—now we are moving into month two. I skipped writing about it when it began, but the short version is that a plumbing leak led to gutting a bathroom and a hallway, and the resulting insurance money spurred us to proceed with other home improvements we’ve wanted for five years. So lately most days around here are noisy and messy, with subcontractors tromping in and out of my backyard and the back rooms of the house. Included in the work are new walls (to replace sliding glass doors), a new window, new carpet, and new paint. I’ll be glad to get this over with, but with the mess around me, my next home project may become purging more of our junk.

Duck Dynasty. I rolled my eyes a couple years ago when some family members described the show, but now my husband has introduced me, and I’m hooked. This is the only television I watch besides a half hour of morning news, mind you. I could easily live without a television. But this show makes me laugh at the end of a hard day; plus, I am encouraged by the Robertsons’ strong example of family togetherness and their un-ashamedness of their faith.

Speaking of faith, my new neighbor friend asked if I would like to read through the Bible with her in forty days to refresh ourselves on the big picture of God’s Word. I said sure, but it definitely won’t get read in forty days! More accurately, I read from two to five chapters a day (I’m almost to Leviticus, and I’m thinking of skipping it this go-round…anyone want to hold that against me?). The more I read the Bible, the more new insight I get. This time I’ve picked up on a couple new things. One example is in Exodus 20, where, directly after God gives the 10 Commandments, he repeats the injunction not to worship or make other Gods—making a special point to warn them of the exact sin he knows they are about to commit with the golden calf! In the instructions for building his temple, I am reminded that God pays attention to detail, and he cares for the details of our lives. In his instructions to hire skilled workers, I take encouragement for my book project that God wants us to be skillful in our trades, and thereby glorify him.

P90X. The weight loss effort continues, with s-l-o-w success. I am still twenty pounds away from my goal (pre-pregnancy weight). But I am working out 3 to 4 times a week after Sam’s bedtime, usually with one of these extreme workouts, so I resist feeling bad about the weight that won’t (yet) come off. I’m doing my part—also trying to eat right—and I can’t do more than that (unless I give up chocolate like my neighbor…and I’m not quite ready for that!).

What else? Sam is doing great. He’s had a few bites of rice cereal, so that will probably become part of the routine soon, to keep up with his nutrition needs. He is spitting up A TON…but I hope that will level off soon with him taking some cereal. Also, my one-day-a-week babysitter, my sister-in-law, is done now that her kids are out of school. So Sambo and I get lots of quality time! Hubby took Monday and Tuesday off for the holiday weekend (which was so nice for our family!), and when he had to watch Sam from about 2 to 4:30 one day (Sam’s fussy time), he asked me how I do this every day! Like with anything and everything else in life, the answer is with God!

This post has been a hodgepodge of goings-on, and I want to end by thanking my Creator (and Re-Creator) God for all of them. My life is so full right now I almost don’t know what to do with myself! But once upon a dark time, I didn’t even want to see the light of day. When I think of the depression he brought me out of years ago, there is only one conclusion to be made: God is worthy of my worship, every single day, and every single moment of this crazy, busy life!

 

 

 

 

The Writing’s Going Well

lindseygendke4 Comments

The last two weeks have hosted a flurry of creative work…during naptimes and on the days my sister-in-law watches Sam (thanks so much, Joanna!). I’m hesitant to publish my high hopes, lest I’m getting too confident…but, of course, here I go.

In the last two weeks, I’ve basically rewritten the last third of my book, or created 80 new pages. This is my first big change since I rewrote the first third of my book last fall. So, now I have a different book from what I had last August. Same story, different book.

I’m not all that sad to have hacked up the first draft. That draft was very repetitious and wallowing. I see it as having cleared the pipes for what really needed to come out. Plus, I’ve saved all that cut material in a word document, and I envision it fueling numerous short articles. This new third, which still needs some organization and editing, focuses much more on Jesus and my healing. It explains the prayer process that changed my life, and shows those changes through new scenes of me reaching out to and praying with other women.

Now that I have the scenes in place that I want in the final draft (meaning I have a reliable outline), I will proceed with writing a book proposal and polishing the first three chapters. I’m not going to set a hard date for sending out the proposal, but I’m hoping for within a month. (I will only be sending to one publisher for now—a press within my faith community which God has laid upon my heart.) While the proposal is being reviewed (or sitting in a slush pile), I will polish up the rest of the book, and possibly get one more edit from my excellent book consultant, Trish Ryan.

I have prayed long over this memoir, and I feel God has delayed its progress so that I could make the recent changes. Now, I believe my book goes beyond telling a sad story women can identify with to showing how Jesus can bring beauty from ashes.

Happy to Be a Mother

lindseygendke6 Comments

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I was married seven years before I decided I wanted kids. Don’t mistake me. I was not married seven years before I got pregnant by accident, or before we could financially support a child. I mean I was married seven years before God, one day, gave me a talking to, and utterly changed my plans.

One October day in 2012, I was simultaneously poring over my career options and getting flustered, as I did so often in those days. I was two months from finishing my master’s degree, after which I planned to get a doctorate and teach college…but I wasn’t happy. I hated graduate school, and the thought of four to eight more years of it constricted my heart like a vise grip.

“Okay, Lord,”I prayed, sitting at my desk, I need your help. Before me sat my list of possible graduate schools, and a blank notebook. These items represented the choice that had dogged me for months: grad school, or writing? Farther back in my mind was a third option, but I had never really been able to voice it. Deadlines were approaching. If was going to get my doctorate, I had to apply soon.

“Lord,”I muttered through clenched teeth, “This indecision has gone on long enough, and I can’t take it anymore. I’m asking you to please, make clear, once and for all, what you want me to do.”

Even as I spoke the words, I felt the answer thudding in my chest.

You know what to do, God said.

And as the tears started, I realized I had known for months.

“God!”I cried out. “This has been so excruciating! Why has it taken so long to decide?”

Fear, came the instant answer. You fear that Buc will die, or abandon you someday. You fear that one day you will be alone again, without support, without resources, and without a clear path.

“Oh, Lord!” I sobbed. “You know me so well. You know that my constant motion for the past few years had to do with protecting myself in case of future abandonment—it wasn’t just about being organized and ‘highly effective.’ You know that I’ve overextended myself at work and church to keep from feeling what was really underneath my skin. You know I struggled over the PhD because it led to a safe and predictable place.”

I stopped talking aloud then, and just sat, letting it all sink in. I was finally admitting to myself: my desire for the PhD was all for fear. It was never what I wanted.

I slipped to my knees and bowed at my desk. With tears still trickling down my face, I acknowledged and embraced my fear, and I prayed: “God, you’ve gotten me this far. It’s time to let you lead, fully. I can’t ignore my desires anymore. And it doesn’t make sense to try to keep forcing a shoe that doesn’t fit. I don’t want a PhD. Teaching I could take or leave. But writing? I can’t leave it anymore. It’s got to come out.

I slumped on the floor for several minutes more, as if held there by God’s hand, because I knew there was more to this prayer. There was something else God wanted to bring out of me, another fear he wanted to replace with his truth. And I knew I was finally about to articulate it.

After composing myself, I called Buc at work and urged him to come home early, saying, “We need to talk about our future.”

When he arrived home, I said, “Let’s drive to the state park and talk while we walk.”

I didn’t have a speech prepared, but when we started our nature walk, words started tumbling out of my mouth. I admitted to Buc that I was not going to find a PhD that would suit me, because a PhD—and the isolation that must come with it—was not the life I wanted.

Voice quavering, I told him, “Honey, I keep looking at my life in the last few years—how I’ve been running around, keeping so busy, trying so hard—and I just don’t know what I’m striving for anymore. I’ve lost sight of what I’m doing. I mean,” I added, voice climbing to hysteria, “I just don’t know who I’m trying to please anymore. Why am I trying so hard?”

Scenes of recent years flashed in my mind. My nose-to-the-grindstone approach, my endless lists of to-dos. My shuffling from here to there. My busyness. My endless pursuit of the next rung in my career ladder, my continual motion. The mere thought of it so exhausted me that I had to stop and catch my breath. Again, these realizations had hit me hard. But the one that next burst from my mouth almost knocked me over.

“I want to have kids!” I blurted.

Like a crashing wave this realization came. In all the years we’d been married, I had never been able to say that I wanted kids. The closest I’d ever come was to speak of it as a distant hypothetical.

“Is it possible,” I marveled aloud to Buc, “that all I’ve ever really wanted was to get back to having a family? To have kids? Is it possible that the one thing I’ve been so scared to embrace all these years is the one thing I’ve really just wanted to get back to?”

I was flabbergasted by the thought. As I talked about our future—a new future—I felt a weight lifting. Was it possible I was really letting go? Just letting the debris of my broken past settle, and finally settling myself? The thought was comforting, even as it brought new fear. To follow this impulse was to completely shift gears, to suddenly grind to a halt plans we’d been setting in motion for years.

I cringed as I looked up at Buc. Would he approve of this change of plans?

“Honey? What do you think?” I shifted my eyes down, as if to deflect a coming glare. “What would you think if I decided to stay home and write, and maybe have some kids?”

His eyes were soft. He clasped my hand. “Honey, I think that sounds nice. I like the idea.” And that was all.

Whoosh. My breath escaped in one glorious release.

“I just have one question,” Buc said, swinging my arm as we trounced through the brush. “Why now? Why after all these years are you finally ready to have kids?”

I thought for a moment before answering, letting the happiness of the moment sink in. Then I realized: happiness was the answer.

“I think I finally understand something.” I let my free arm drift across the tree leaves, feeling like a little girl again. “The best parents—I mean, the people who should be having kids—have them because they are already happy. They have them not to make themselves happy, but to share their happiness. To invite someone else into their special, intimate joy. They don’t ask their kids to bring their lives meaning, they ask to be able to share meaning with their kids.”

“Well said,” Buc beamed at me. “I think I’ve got a wise wife.”

“Not that wise,” I smiled back. “I’m just learning to take God’s lead.”

And that, I thought to myself, is something worth passing on to my kids!

 

Epilogue: A year and a half has passed since that day in the woods, and I thank God every day that he redirected my plans and gave me my (almost) four-month-old blessing, Sam Michael. Happy Mothers Day, Moms!

 

*This post was adapted from a chapter in my memoir manuscript.

Mind of a Mom

lindseygendke4 Comments

IMG_0680Someone asked me recently what it’s like to be a mom, and I said: “It’s like having my mind scattered in pieces all around me.” Gone are the days of setting my mind to one task and hammering away until it’s done—or one idea and thinking it entirely through.

When you sign up for mom-hood, you sign away your ability to focus entirely on any one thing, except your child(ren). What results is a scattered bunch of thoughts flitting through your mind—and a smattering of baby toys, burp cloths, laundry, and paperwork dotting your furniture—that hang in limbo for days on end without resolution.

Just because (mostly because I can’t think of an otherwise coherent post), here are a few pieces of my mind lately:

I’m really sick of not fitting into anything but yoga pants. Despite daily walks with baby and exercise videos a couple times a week, I’ve only lost half of what I gained during pregnancy. (That puts me at twenty-five pounds to go. FYI, Sam is three months old now.) So it’s time to bring out the big guns. Hubby and I are going to (try to) start doing P90X four times a week after baby goes to bed.

He (the baby) is doing pretty well on that front. I’m happy to report that he’s sleeping a seven- or eight-hour stretch every night, with a 3:00-ish feeding, then sleeping two or three more hours. Can’t complain about that.

But I do still complain. I really wish he’d sleep until 7:00. He gets up anytime between 5:30 and 7:00. My hubby gets up for work at 6, and I get up with him to have my morning devotions—if Sam hasn’t gotten me up first. Until Sam stops the middle-of-the-night feedings, I told God I really don’t want to get up before 6; so if he (God) wants me to spend time with him, please let Sam sleep long enough for me to do it.

On that note, I still obviously have control freak tendencies. I still want to control my life entirely too much, not letting God be God. So that tells me I better NOT skip my devotion time. I need God to set me straight every day.

I am constantly toying with when and how to accomplish my to-do’s during the day, including Bible time. I still haven’t figured out when to write on any weekday but Monday, when my sis-in-law watches Sam. By the time I’m done with baby care and basic household upkeep, there’s no time left for writing. I’ve been logging Sam’s naps and feedings for the last week, hoping to spot patterns around which to build my day. Happily, he has some, but they are “loose” patterns—really too loose for much scheduling.

Most frustrating for me about being a SAHM (stay-at-home mom) is that I feel my talents are going to waste. My weaknesses, not my strengths, are called forth every day. As I’ve written before on this blog, I get little to no satisfaction from housekeeping, because it’s a never-ending task with non-lasting rewards. Anything I accomplish is quickly erased by more dirt, dishes, dogs, or laundry. The blessing here—and it’s a big one—is that my investment in Sam is and will be rewarded. I get to watch him grow up (smiles and laughs are awesome rewards right not), and then, hopefully, to become the godly kind of a man my hubby and I are trying to raise.

I suppose these special moments with Sam cancel out the maddeningly mundane ones. A child changes a person like nothing else can. It’s hard to believe that when he was born, I felt awkward talking “baby” to him. Now, it just flows out of me. What’s more, I can’t be away from him for a few minutes without picturing his chubby cheeks and bright eyes. Hubby and I got a sitter today for five hours so we could clean out our garage, and by the end of it we were both dying to see him.

So, what to do with these pieces of my mind? Right now I tote them around, trip over them once in awhile, and pick one up to do something with when it’s imperative (before tossing it back onto the scrap heap). But for the most part, besides damage control and baby care, I don’t get much done.

It’s a love-hate life. I love caring for my baby. I hate having my mind cracked into gazillions of pieces.

What does it mean that I started seriously thinking about a second child last week? I told hubby it meant I wanted to get our target two kids out of the way so I could return to other parts of my life more quickly. He told me it meant I was selfish. But I already knew that. Just look at my divided mind!

Ah, me. I hope I won’t look back on these years only to realize I missed out on the good times.

And that’s a look into the mind of a mom.

He Slept Through the Night!

lindseygendke4 Comments

IMG_0633

This is a headline every new mom wants to publish, but my announcement is even more gratifying because it came as an answer to a Bible promise I claimed two weeks ago. You see, two Sundays ago I sat down and wrote a blog post about lack of sleep that I never published…because I got too busy to polish and then too tired to post it. (As I’ve written more than once, sleep deprivation is one of the biggest drains on new mothers.) But now I can publish that post with a happy ending.

Two weeks ago…

In a recent post I wrote that I was having trouble with my God time, so I fasted from secular books and TV last week. The fast is over, and it was a blessing, but I also realized it’s not enough to fast. You also have to refill what you’ve taken away. As if mothers have a need to fill any more time! This is where it takes a conscious effort to include God in your day.

My husband took Sam for the afternoon, and I was tempted to take a nap. However, after lunch and a delicious lactation smoothie I’m trying this week [after two weeks it sadly hasn’t helped much], I was revived enough to sit down and talk to God. I told him that I was frustrated. It’s hard for me to focus on the Bible right now. The Bible seems too vast, plus, unrelated to my daily mommy mire. I told him I wished there were a Bible, or a gospel, specifically for mothers of young children. Sometimes I don’t want to sift through the biblical language to find a personal application.

I asked God what he would have me do. He told me he wasn’t asking me to be a Bible scholar, just to be faithful with the time I have. I was impressed to continue reading through the Psalms like I’ve been doing, and to memorize at least one verse from my reading each week.

In the past, the Psalms have spoken to me even when I had little mental energy for Bible study. The themes are simple—God is in control; the righteous prosper, the wicked die; God created me and cares for me intimately; God is the creator of everything—but beautiful and reassuring. Just like they were good for a frazzled first-year teacher six years ago, they are good for a tired mommy today. And you know what? As I looked over the Psalms I read last week, searching for one verse to memorize, one jumped out.

“I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety” (Ps. 4:8). My Bible commentary told me this section pertained to when David fled from Absalom and feared for his life. The fact that he can lie down and sleep shows absolute trust in God.

As far as I can tell, my life is not in danger; but with a two-month-old, I crave to sleep in peace. It occurred to me that I could claim this verse for myself. I can trust God that he will help me sleep in peace, because he provides for my needs, just like he provided for David. I know it’s a somewhat silly comparison, but this verse made me feel loved by God.

I recited that verse several times a day for over a week…and within two weeks, Sam, eleven weeks old, slept 9 ½ hours two nights ago and then 7 hours last night. I was able to sleep in peace. God came through!

I am so thankful to serve a God who meets me where I am—even when that is a pathetically sleep deprived and droopy state. May he help me to continue honoring him with my time. If Sam keeps this up, it looks like I’ll be getting some quiet morning hours back—and I will do my best to spend them with God.

 

Reexamining Priorities as a New Mother

lindseygendke4 Comments
Photo Credit: "Chalkboard Numbers" by mimwickett
Photo Credit: “Chalkboard Numbers” by mimwickett

One great thing about a baby is that he forces you to reexamine your priorities. As the mother of a two-month-old, I’m reconsidering mine, and I’m ashamed. I’m talking about the fact that Bible study feels foreign to me these days.

Maybe that’s not surprising. Everything from my former life—exercise, writing my memoir—feels foreign. The exercise video that was once easy has become difficult. The memoir that seemed nearly sewn up now has gaping holes. The daily devotion that came as a joy now poses frustration. In short, my abs were not the only things left flabby by childbirth.

Feedings, Facebook, and the Today show replaced my morning devotions. Bottle washing and diaper changing ousted my daily workouts. Rocking, singing, and mad dashes to shower during naptime replaced the writing. And with all that breastfeeding, as you might remember, memoirs became my reading material of choice. Yes, I’ve had time to read, but I haven’t had the focus, a little voice inside has said.

That’s not good. In my former (pre-mother) life as a Christian, I learned where certain little voices come from. If it’s not the Holy Spirit, it’s, well, the other guy.

This is a tough truth to face. On the one hand, I want to plead, “But it’s not my fault! I wasn’t getting any sleep, and how can you expect a zombie to focus on her Bible?” Even now I feel this argument holds water…concerning at least the first few weeks. Just like one cannot be expected to function without food or water, I believe one cannot be expected to function (at least optimally) on inadequate sleep.

Concerning new parenthood, and I suppose other life upheavals (such as moves and new jobs), there has to be an adjustment period, and it’s bound to be rocky. If you don’t have someone spoon-feeding you your Bible lessons—or bottle feeding your baby, putting him to sleep at night, changing his diapers, holding him when he cries for the zillionth time (you get the picture)—it’s unlikely that even the most devout new parent will have a robust devotional life.

But then.

Then, that infant settles down a bit, so that you can expect a decent naptime each day. Then he sleeps to the extent that you are no longer a walking zombie. Then you have the time and the faculties available to reconsider your priorities. Then you are once again accountable for your actions.

So, I’ve decided I need to regroup. I need to get back to the Bible.

Being a good Christian doesn’t exclude some of the things I’ve been doing lately (perhaps with the exception of the Today show—I can’t help but notice how the worst of pop culture is always applauded, never condemned) but it means those things never take priority over Bible study or prayer.

Because I’ve had trouble hearing God’s voice lately, I decided to fast this week from secular books and TV. Until I am again comfortable with God and the Bible (although a Christian really should never get comfortable) I’m not turning on secular TV or picking up a memoir. So far this week I’ve bathed myself in the Bible, other inspirational reading, and religious programs such as those aired on Amazing Facts TV (If you want a spiritual boost, I recommend Amazing Facts; the speaker/director Doug Batchelor is a favorite of mine). Similar to my “Damascus Road year,” I’ve been convicted that I need to keep God front and center in my life. When I don’t, life is upside down, even more so than new motherhood makes it.

Listen, new motherhood throws your whole identity up in the air. It’s hard to redefine yourself, especially in relation to your work, if you were formerly career oriented. But I’ve decided that there is one aspect of my identity that need never be shaken, and that is my identity as a daughter of God. In Christ, I am called to be Christlike wherever I am in life. Maybe I don’t have the luxury of many uninterrupted minutes of Bible study. Maybe most of my prayers can’t be made with the backdrop of silence. But I can be faithful with what I have, be it five minutes of quiet time in which to read, or a whole noisy, busy day in which to converse with God.

 

The Tears of New Motherhood

lindseygendke9 Comments

Each time I think back to the moments of my son’s birth, these lines of poetry (which I studied in high school) come to mind:

My father groaned! my mother wept.
Into the dangerous world I leapt

(The real poem, “Infant Sorrow,” by William Blake, transposes the mother and father, but I remember the mother as the one weeping.)

IMG_0772See how I wept? I tried to hold them back, but as soon as little Sam exited the premises, the tears gushed.

I had what could be considered an “easy” labor and delivery, with an epidural that worked like ecstasy. But towards the end, I felt the tears on tap.

When he arrived “helpless, naked, piping loud,” these signs of life undid me. Finally, it was over. He was alive, he was healthy, and I could relax. Later, when I lay back watching my family gush over the baby, my eyes watered again. I felt a sense of love and pride thinking, “We made that!”

IMG_0797Was there any better feeling in the world?

Those early tears were for relief and joy, but as two weeks have worn on, other tears—of frustration, bewilderment, and sometimes resentment (when I’m running on vapors of sleep)—have followed. After a few days, I wasn’t sure I could do it anymore. (You should never trust your instincts when running on three nonconsecutive hours of sleep or less.)

In the first days, visitors and callers broke up the monotony, distracted from the sense of helplessness I otherwise felt when alone with baby Sam for several hours. A friend emailed to say she made it through the first two weeks just fine, but when the commotion died down, postpartum depression set in. The D-word. A word I was once well acquainted with. But I’m not D these days, unless D stands for (sleep) deprived.

My tears (which are becoming less and less), and the periodic panic that “I’ll never find time to write or finish my book or blog again” are just par for this course, especially for a new mother who took almost thirty years to decide on this course.

IMG_0230 Amidst all the crying, feeding, sleep deprivation, and diaper changing, there are moments of every day I find myself just gazing at this new baby—our little miracle. It helps to look down at my son, even during one of the eight to twelve daily breastfeeding sessions (this alone is a full-time job!), and remember that the creative power of God that brought this precious, heart-stealing baby into being, is the same power that animates me, both physically and mentally. It is the same power that animates these other dreams I have–the dreams of writing and publishing that sprouted long before my dream of a baby. I must trust God that he will teach me how to live this new life. He will bring peace out of this (sometimes) chaos. One day, he will help me marry these two wonderful parts of my life. And one day I will again sleep through the night. Until I do, I won’t worry too much about the tears of new motherhood.