Four years ago, I was a junior in college, signing up to take the GRE, starting to think about grad schools for my master's, enjoying life. Looked forward four years from then, I saw myself finishing my master's this spring, looking for jobs, ready to go out and pay off student debt, find a place of my own - maybe Boston or San Diego, travel (eventually) to Italy and Greece.
I didn't always want to be a career woman.
Once upon a time, my sole goal in life (other than being a missionary to China like Gladys Aylward or a horse rancher) was to be a wife and mother. The problem with my dream was that high school ended, and no requisite husband showed up.
I took a year off of school to become a licensed piano teacher.
Still no applicant for husband.
Then I took two years of college while dating a young man.
That didn't work, so I got a job for a year.
Still no man.
So I went off to school again. "Plan A didn't pan out," I thought, so I moved on to Plan B.
Then, life blew up (quite literally) three and a half years ago, catapulting me back to Plan A.
Now, here I am, preparing for my hugely anticipated promotion to the position of mother.
From the outside, it might look as if I've settled.
Instead of looking for promising career opportunities, I am looking for new recipes for supper.
Instead of driving to classes or a job every day, I walk a few blocks to a part-time job that doesn't pay much above minimum wage and busily page through books of prenatal and postnatal information in my down time.
Instead of writing research papers and reading peer-reviewed journal articles, I am writing grocery lists and researching the best way to contain dirty diapers until they can be washed.
Yeah, that might look like settling.
But to me, it's living my dream!
Showing posts with label home. Show all posts
Showing posts with label home. Show all posts
Thursday, March 31, 2016
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Christmas Decorating
I was so excited to start Christmas decorating this year! Putting up our own ornaments in our own home . . . wow! It felt like an adventure to figure out where I wanted what, and my husband was so kind as to participate - it made for a relational memory that did my feminine heart good.
Except, I knew we were going to have a bit of a problem with the Christmas tree. The problem looked something like this:
Yes.
I had pulled our tree up from storage a few days earlier to see how Louis would interact with it, and it wasn't long before he let me know.
He had so much fun scratching that "bark" and rolling its papery substance around in his mouth! And of course he had to climb it once and tip it (I was surprised that it was only once, actually).
As you can imagine, I was starting to see visions of broken, bitten, scratched, and otherwise destroyed Christmas ornaments that represented many happy memories in my life.
Houston, we had a problem.
Well, as my husband is so fond of proudly saying, I am an engineer's wife, and with a little thought and a little of his muscle, we engineered ourselves a solution.
Ladies and gentlemen, our cat-proof Christmas tree!
You may notice in the foreground a small, carpeted structure meant for cats' enjoyment and relaxation. Louis had never paid it a whole lot of attention, but it is now his favorite place to sit, eye-level with the lace tree skirt, looking wistfully at what he cannot have.
Of course, I supervise his visit with the tree (he's already stolen one of the pine cones from off the skirt), but - all things considered - I do believe we have found the best of both worlds: that of owning a cat and an intact Christmas tree!
Except, I knew we were going to have a bit of a problem with the Christmas tree. The problem looked something like this:
I had pulled our tree up from storage a few days earlier to see how Louis would interact with it, and it wasn't long before he let me know.
He had so much fun scratching that "bark" and rolling its papery substance around in his mouth! And of course he had to climb it once and tip it (I was surprised that it was only once, actually).
As you can imagine, I was starting to see visions of broken, bitten, scratched, and otherwise destroyed Christmas ornaments that represented many happy memories in my life.
Houston, we had a problem.
Well, as my husband is so fond of proudly saying, I am an engineer's wife, and with a little thought and a little of his muscle, we engineered ourselves a solution.
Ladies and gentlemen, our cat-proof Christmas tree!
You may notice in the foreground a small, carpeted structure meant for cats' enjoyment and relaxation. Louis had never paid it a whole lot of attention, but it is now his favorite place to sit, eye-level with the lace tree skirt, looking wistfully at what he cannot have.
Of course, I supervise his visit with the tree (he's already stolen one of the pine cones from off the skirt), but - all things considered - I do believe we have found the best of both worlds: that of owning a cat and an intact Christmas tree!
Thursday, October 16, 2014
The Joys of Homemaking
Well, we have been settling into our new house!
Unpacking didn't take long, but every now and then I find a box of items in a closet that need an official home. My husband and I are settling into a routine of sorts, filled with work, dishes, cooking, cleaning, making little changes and fixes, etc., etc.
Dave Ramsey would be proud of our budget meetings. Money issues scare the starch out of me, so my favorite plan of attack is avoidance; but the ominous "M" on the calendar's last Tuesday of each month keeps us accountable, and I am finding out that things are much less stressful when we know how much is coming in and when/where it's going out. Still, I have had to adjust to a new way of thinking of money - I used to deal with it in terms of tens of dollars. Seventy dollars for groceries, twelve dollars for my monthly share of our family phone plan, forty dollars for a school text book . . . now, however, money tends to leave in hundreds, whether it is for groceries, insurance, mortgage payments, house bills, and on and on.
Living in town hasn't had a steep adjustment curve, and the folks here have been so kind. We have felt so welcomed by our neighbors - I especially enjoy chatting across the lawn when a neighbor and I are both outside at the same time.
Having our own home makes us feel so rich - and aren't we? Sure, things might be tight and we save for what we want, but to have four walls around us that have our name on them . . . it's just cozy. I marvel at all God provides. As Thanksgiving draws near, I become more and more grateful for the refuge we have found in this place - a place of healing from yesterday, of hope for tomorrow, and always, always of gratitude for today.
Unpacking didn't take long, but every now and then I find a box of items in a closet that need an official home. My husband and I are settling into a routine of sorts, filled with work, dishes, cooking, cleaning, making little changes and fixes, etc., etc.
Dave Ramsey would be proud of our budget meetings. Money issues scare the starch out of me, so my favorite plan of attack is avoidance; but the ominous "M" on the calendar's last Tuesday of each month keeps us accountable, and I am finding out that things are much less stressful when we know how much is coming in and when/where it's going out. Still, I have had to adjust to a new way of thinking of money - I used to deal with it in terms of tens of dollars. Seventy dollars for groceries, twelve dollars for my monthly share of our family phone plan, forty dollars for a school text book . . . now, however, money tends to leave in hundreds, whether it is for groceries, insurance, mortgage payments, house bills, and on and on.
Living in town hasn't had a steep adjustment curve, and the folks here have been so kind. We have felt so welcomed by our neighbors - I especially enjoy chatting across the lawn when a neighbor and I are both outside at the same time.
Having our own home makes us feel so rich - and aren't we? Sure, things might be tight and we save for what we want, but to have four walls around us that have our name on them . . . it's just cozy. I marvel at all God provides. As Thanksgiving draws near, I become more and more grateful for the refuge we have found in this place - a place of healing from yesterday, of hope for tomorrow, and always, always of gratitude for today.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
A Place Called Home
I wonder why I don't feel more adrift.
The acreage that has been my home since my sixth month of life is drifting away as Daddy nears retirements. The thought of losing that place used to strike a note of feral fear within me. Now, I see God gently shaking its soil from my roots.
I am in my last thirty days of living with Grandma, this place of Grandma's care and cooking which carved a home amongst the stress and pleasure of learning.
I am headed to a place that is not guaranteed to me and my husband-to-be; it could be yanked away upon the whims of others.
Yet, among the uncertainties, there is peace. The peace originating in a God who knows, who sees, who understands. His comfort to me is that He already sees what lies ahead, and He is handling it even now.
The place He has for me in this moment is my home: this is where He loves me and where He has asked me to serve.
Forgive a rant, but that's one reason I don't like the song, "All I know is I am not home yet/ This is not where I belong . . ." I understand the general sentiment behind the words; I've felt it. The problem is that it is bad theology. The Bible promises a time and place for all things in out lives (Ecc. 3:1). Just because things are rough doesn't mean we get to ignore them. We Christians have to engage. Jesus spent time warning His disciples of things to come on earth, but He never told them to pull away or to "hang in there" until better things arrived. He told them so they could have peace in Him right in the middle of all the craziness (John 16:33)! Paul hit it right on the head: we don't have to be afraid of anything this earth can dish out - even death - because it all belongs to Christ (Philippians 1:21)! He gets it all in the end! We aren't chasing pie in the sky. We have it. We have Him. His name is Jesus, and His presence is my home.
Right here.
Right now.
And wherever tomorrow finds me.
The acreage that has been my home since my sixth month of life is drifting away as Daddy nears retirements. The thought of losing that place used to strike a note of feral fear within me. Now, I see God gently shaking its soil from my roots.
I am in my last thirty days of living with Grandma, this place of Grandma's care and cooking which carved a home amongst the stress and pleasure of learning.
I am headed to a place that is not guaranteed to me and my husband-to-be; it could be yanked away upon the whims of others.
Yet, among the uncertainties, there is peace. The peace originating in a God who knows, who sees, who understands. His comfort to me is that He already sees what lies ahead, and He is handling it even now.
The place He has for me in this moment is my home: this is where He loves me and where He has asked me to serve.
Forgive a rant, but that's one reason I don't like the song, "All I know is I am not home yet/ This is not where I belong . . ." I understand the general sentiment behind the words; I've felt it. The problem is that it is bad theology. The Bible promises a time and place for all things in out lives (Ecc. 3:1). Just because things are rough doesn't mean we get to ignore them. We Christians have to engage. Jesus spent time warning His disciples of things to come on earth, but He never told them to pull away or to "hang in there" until better things arrived. He told them so they could have peace in Him right in the middle of all the craziness (John 16:33)! Paul hit it right on the head: we don't have to be afraid of anything this earth can dish out - even death - because it all belongs to Christ (Philippians 1:21)! He gets it all in the end! We aren't chasing pie in the sky. We have it. We have Him. His name is Jesus, and His presence is my home.
Right here.
Right now.
And wherever tomorrow finds me.
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