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Last year, I spelled out the word “Steward” with our Scrabble letters and set them upon my kitchen windowsill to guide my intentions throughout 2014. When I chose the word “steward” as my focus, I remember thinking that I really needed to be a better steward of my time at home, as I had lots of aspirations for my creative business, but often became derailed too easily. This was the year that I would not allow things like Facebook and internet surfing to steal precious time. I would set business hours and art hours and stick to them! I even bought Julie Morgenstern’s book, Time Management from the Inside Out, to give myself an added boost.
By mid-January; however, it did not take me long to realize that God had a different vision of what it meant for me to be a good steward of my time last year. The power struggles between my girl and me had reached an all-time high and I was failing miserably at being the calm, loving mom that she needed me to be. The anger I felt inside felt a little scary some days and I knew it was time to ask for help. My time this past year was meant to be spent in healing.
I spent a good 4-5 months working with a counselor, just healing my spirit. Allowing myself to grieve parts of my life journey, my boy’s autism diagnosis, and my girl’s unique struggles. As I released the trapped feelings from my brain, their physical grip on my heart loosened, as well. With a new found sense of calm, I was then able to move on to other aspects of our current situation that needed attention.
As a preschooler, my girl had been diagnosed with sensory processing difficulties, an anxiety disorder and ADHD. I often describe all these diagnosis as the “leftovers” of autism. While we sought interventions for my girl when these things first became apparent, the symptoms lessened over time and I guess I just pushed those very real struggles to the back of my mind, as we were still heavily in the throes of addressing my boy’s autism. That said, it was now time to better understand and address my girl’s needs.
So, my husband and I began meeting with a counselor together to hone our parenting skills. While we share a number of strengths in our marriage, we also made the realization that we needed to communicate and be more assertive about our own individual needs. We both felt like “martyrs” for our family, working somewhat independently to survive. Recognizing the importance of validating and supporting each other so that we can function better as a unit has been big for us. And, as you can guess, a happier, calmer Mom and Dad sets the tone for a more loving, peaceful household. Apart from our counseling, my girl is now receiving occupational therapy each week to address her sensory needs and we are in the process of completing some educational evaluations to see if there are any other areas that we might be missing. Lots of hard work going-on here!
As our family continues to heal and move forward together, I have decided that my word for this year is going to be “Trust.” Trust the process. Trust that life will reveal itself and unfold just as it supposed to. And while I keep dreaming and setting goals for myself, I will hold these things loosely, allowing God to gently guide my path. He’s got this. I just need to trust Him.
If you want to stay close to Me and do things My way, ask Me to show you the path forward moment by moment. Instead of dashing headlong toward your goal, let Me set the pace. Slow down, and enjoy the journey in My Presence. -Sarah Young, Jesus Calling
The holiday season seems to have snuck-up on me this year and I feel rushed. Rushed to put-up decorations. Rushed to shop for gifts. Rushed to write and mail Christmas cards. Rushed to get into the holiday spirit. I lay in bed this morning, praying for an attitude adjustment. That I might replace my shortness with my boy and girl with a loving, gentle disposition. My boy and girl are just about to burst with anticipation while I snip and snap at them, trying to maintain some sort of control. At our house, the normal childhood excitement mixed with autism and ADHD produces some pretty intense energy around here, usually in the form of fast, incessant talking, impulsive little bodies, and an insatiable desire for attention and entertainment.
Needless to say, I’ve been a bit overwhelmed with all this unbridled energy, desperate to slow the pace down just a hair. I need to slow-down for me. I need to slow down for my family. Since becoming a mama, I’ve always tried to make sure that the birth of Jesus stay right up there with the arrival of Santa. Surely, an uptight and irritable mama is not the best example of Love come down on Earth. My boy and girl happily decorated our tree this afternoon (I didn’t move even one ornament!), I finished a batch of cards to be mailed and now that the majority of the gifts have arrived via USPS (Thank you, God, for online shopping!), I gratefully feel myself beginning to relax into the Season.
Each year, I find myself in this same conundrum – Part of me really does enjoy the hustle and bustle of the holidays. And the other part of me, screams for quiet and calm. Thankfully, the latter part usually gets to settle-in once the initial preparations are made. Now that the advent wreath graces the dinner table’s center, I enjoy watching the flicker of the candle each evening as we follow Mary’s journey to Bethlehem. And thanks to my friend Cheryl sharing her family’s tradition with me, we have started our very own “20 Books of Christmas.” All of the holiday books collected throughout the years are now individually wrapped and lovingly sit in a basket near the hearth. Instead of devouring all the books at once, as in the past, my boy and girl look forward to choosing one book to unwrap each evening when we can cuddle together on the couch and rediscover an old favorite or maybe even a new one. Llama Llama, Holiday Drama was quite a hit yesterday evening!
I imagine that most of us mammas carry an extra load of stress around the holidays. At the same time, if we can intentionally weave quiet moments amidst the busyness, we allow our hearts to truly prepare for the coming of our Savior. So, go ahead and take that bubble bath, sit-down for a cup of tea, close your eyes for a few moments, and remember to breathe. It’s all good.
I remember hearing women talk of “nesting” in the weeks and days right before their children were to be born. Madly cleaning and organizing the house from top to bottom. While I reveled in this nesting process pretty much from the moment I found out I was pregnant, I think I’ve always been a nester at heart, with or without expecting a child. I simply love organizing and arranging my environment in a way that works for me and my family. Aesthetically, spiritually, and functionally. And, when I encounter transitions and change, my nesting instincts tend to kick-in at a frenzied pace.
Take last week, for instance. Just two weeks before my boy and girl will be home from school for the summer months. I felt an urgent need to install those extra towel bars in our bathrooms (I’ve only had them sitting in the corner of our bedroom for, well, almost a year!), clean-out the guest room closet, donate 5 bags of “stuff” to the Goodwill, take a bulging bag of books to the used bookstore, rearrange the art supplies in the dining room, purchase shelves for the garage, organize the crates of outdoor toys and supplies scattered across the garage floor and stock-up on supplies for summer projects. I was driven.
I am quite aware of this pattern of mine. A woman on a mission to check-off the remnants of her to-do list, squeezing-out every minute of “me-time” before the last day of school. Perhaps this is my way of trying to feel in control. Or, perhaps, I am clearing the way for summer, both physically and emotionally? I expect each of these hypothesis hold some truth.
Whatever the reasons may be, this week, I am trying my best to slow-down before summer “officially” starts. At our house, summers laced with autism and ADHD can be tiresome. This is just a reality for our family. At the same time, when I am able to put my agenda aside and simply “be” with my children, I create more room for joy and less stress. Joy in climbing trees. Splashing in the waves and in the neighborhood pool. Reading books. Playing games. Creating art. Riding Bikes. Joy in spending time together.
Will I lose my patience when my brain cannot take-in one more moment of compulsive talking? Probably. I expect that some days will look pretty messy. At the end of the summer, though, if I can recount more days of joy than despair, I consider myself a blessed woman.
The Blue Mug 