Discontent: A Post in Two Parts (Part II)

So you may ask, why all the pics of Baby E?  Well, they were from that day – decked out in her little “monster” fleece from the Gap – but really everything leads back to her.

We’ve been attending a wonderful church here in Frisco called Hope Fellowship.  Even have a small group – everyone is lovely and have young kids and we look forward to getting to know them better.

On Sunday Pastor John started a series about Elijah.  And oh my gosh – it was like God was speaking directly to me.  It was all about how God uses us in times of strife – how we don’t always know why things are happening but how God sees the whole picture and how we have to learn total dependence on Him.

Going back to Saturday, it was a normal weekend day for us, except that Vann was at my grandmother’s house helping my family with the estate sale.  I stayed at home with the girls, and for whatever reason both of them were getting on my LAST nerve.  Baby Ella is: cutting multiple teeth, a nightmare in the high chair, seemingly whining ALL the time, and not quite steady on the tile floor, which causes a lot of bumped noggins and a lot of crying.

I’m sitting there, feeding her baby food, again, and she’s spitting everything out.  Ok, I think, I’ll try some shredded turkey.  Or some cheese.  Or green beans.  Spitting.  It.  All.  Out.

“Fine!”, I shout at her, “If you aren’t going to eat anything I give you then you can just go to bed hungry.  I really don’t care.”

More crying.

Something else to point out: Daylight Savings Time is a gift for all people except parents of young kids.  You may think you are getting an extra hour, but nnnnooooooo.  Not when your children are up at 6 am.

So naps are all screwy and she is seemingly ready for bed and it’s only 5:30 pm.  Bedtime isn’t for another hour and a half.

Still crying.

I’m looking at her as she’s crying and this wave of anger comes over me.  I feel out of control.  I feel an amazing amount of resentment towards my sweet child and I realize that if I don’t get a moment to cool down – well, I would never hit my children but let’s just say that I understand how people can get to that place.

I plop her in her crib and close the door.  She’s out in two seconds.

I give Charlie her dinner and tell her that I’m going to go do something upstairs and to eat and I’ll be back.

And I barely get up to the playroom before I’m collapsing on the couch with my head in my hands.  Screaming in my head – a deep longing for my child to have some independence. 

The soonest Early Childhood Intervention can get out to the house is the day before Thanksgiving.  I had called already prior to my episode on Saturday.  I’m glad they’re coming.  I want to know how she’s doing, eating and all.

Look, Ella is a bright and happy baby.  She’s super curious and loves to giggle and LOVES her older sister.  She plays and picks things up, she does all the things babies her age are doing.

Except for feeding herself.  Except for clapping.  Except for pulling up on anything. 

I can’t help that these three things concern me.

And in my heart, I am resentful towards my baby.  I want to tell her to buck up, to be like other kids her age, to pick up a frickin’ cube of CHEESE for goodness sakes, anything!

So back to Elijah, I realized that for whatever reason, this situation with Ella is my Kerith Brook:

1 Kings 17

Elijah Announces a Great Drought

¹ Now Elijah the Tishbite, from Tishbe^[a] in Gilead, said to Ahab, “As the LORD, the God of Israel, lives, whom I serve, there will be neither dew nor rain in the next few years except at my word.”

Elijah Fed by Ravens

² Then the word of the LORD came to Elijah: ³ “Leave here, turn eastward and hide in the Kerith Ravine, east of the Jordan. ⁴ You will drink from the brook, and I have directed the ravens to supply you with food there.”

⁵ So he did what the LORD had told him. He went to the Kerith Ravine, east of the Jordan, and stayed there. ⁶ The ravens brought him bread and meat in the morning and bread and meat in the evening, and he drank from the brook.

As Pastor John said, God put Elijah in a place of isolated pain - he had to have total dependence on Him.  God put Elijah in the Kerith Brook. 

And right now, that’s what I feel.  God has me in this place – He’s trying to teach me something, about myself, about selflessness, about being a mother.  And all it feels like right now is a series of isolated pain.   

Check out Pastor John’s sermon here.

What is your Kerith Brook??

Discontent: A Post in Two Parts (Part I)

I had a really tough day on Saturday.

But I guess I should go back to the beginning.

Last Friday the girls and I decided to strike out and walk the distance from our house to the nearest Target. I thought, why not get some exercise and fresh air, take a stroll through the posh neighborhood next to ours, and end up at my favorite store as the hard earned reward??

Almost 5 miles later, my trip to and from Target was more eye-opening than I imagined.

It was awesome to walk as if I was still in the city – having a destination always helps, in my point of view – and it brought back so many memories of my weekly trips up Lincoln Ave. to the Trader Joe’s. It was crisp outside and the sky was as blue as it could be. We even stopped at a park so that Charlie could play for a bit. I sat on a bench and took in all the sights and sounds of my new surroundings.

And as we left Target and started our trek back home, I took my time strolling through the neighboring subdivision.

The homes start in the 450’s. Start. Meaning that they go upwards of a cool million.

To be honest, I’m used to seeing these kinds of homes in the city – single family homes are not uncommon where we used to live. But here in Texas, where bigger is (I guess) better, a cool million gets you a home the size of a football stadium.

I tried not to stare – and as Charlie pointed out all the trucks of men hanging Christmas lights on various homes (yes, apparently a lot of folks hire people to do this, which puzzles Vann to no end) – I found myself lingering in front of the beautiful tudor-style homes; pale, pale stone, turreted rooms, 3 car garages with yards that go on for miles…and presumably custom all the way – chef’s kitchens, hand-scraped hardwood floors, you name it.

I bring this all up to say that it dawned on me that as I was walking I was coveting what these people have. Truly. Coveting the next thing – totally ignoring our own beautiful new (to us) home and all of our dreams for it – and thinking, “So in our next house…”

I called Vann, breathless, as if I’d discovered the cure for cancer, talking a mile a minute about what I was seeing.

And you know what I learned??

It’s never enough.

And my perception of these people in these million dollar homes? Well, chances are it’s never enough for them either.

This past year I’ve spent so much time pining for the simple pleasures of owning a home: my own washer and dryer, a parking spot that we don’t share with someone else, a fireplace.

And all I can think about…is what I don’t have.

The devil LOVES that, doesn’t he??

He loves making you feel small…making you feel as though what you are and what you have is never enough, doesn’t he??

And so the myth of this financial perfection lives on…and I fall for it every time. If you live in a house like that, you must be perfect. Your life is perfect.

If you are a celebrity, you don’t have to shop at Ikea.

If you are dropping thousands of dollars shopping out of the Neiman Marcus Christmas book, well then you must have more than $100 in your savings account.

All lies.

All pieces of the devil’s puzzle of discontent. Sounds like a movie, right? Or a novel…

At any rate, as I pulled around the corner of our subdivision and walked up my street, I looked at our beautiful house and wondered what person needed more than that. Truly, how can that not be enough?

Pebbles

We never got any great shots of Baby E during our Trick or Treat extravaganza.  Good thing Ms. Marla had Kelly and Ryan’s party the following week – it gave Baby Pebbles another opportunity to shine.  I’d say she’s a pretty cute cavegirl, wouldn’t you??

This makes me think…

…that maybe this jumper should be retired.  Short, are we???