Emily Cook's Blog, page 37

When little lips speak of things buried inside a mother-heart

My little girl is in tears, in the arms of her daddy. 
I have gone to bed early, before my husband, before even the oldest children. My body simply gave out, and I had no choice but to lay down.  I am frustrated that my body refused to live up to the standards in my head. There is a frying pan covered in hamburger grease in my kitchen, and I hate that I will wake up to it tomorrow. 
Daddy sent the girls to bed, but one did not go quietly. Teeth brushed, she rushed back into his arms, in tears.  It's bedtime, but she has two more math problems to do.  She thinks her father is heartless, unfair, for making her go to bed with things undone. 
He and I have talked about this- how her wonderful work-ethic pushes her near perfectionism. 
He sits with her on the end of our bed.
"Honey, it's ok to go to bed with two problems left undone. You will have plenty of time in the morning."  She doesn't believe him, though the problems are simple.  Leaving loose ends, even if they can be tied in under three minutes, is torture to her little soul. "Your body needs rest my dear. It's OK not to have everything done. Daddy still loves you, and mommy.  And Jesus loves you too, and he wouldn't love you any more if your jobs were done.  Go to bed, dear.  It really is OK.."  
She sniffs and nods.  She tries to believe. She hugs her mother and rushes off to bed.
I imagine her crying small tears while she waits for those words to take root in her heart.
I love my husband and those words of comfort he speaks. But still, I almost ask him if he wouldn't mind going back into the kitchen and cleaning that disgusting frying pan.  But I know he would laugh, thinking I must be kidding. How can such a request come after such a lesson?  
Motherhood, like taking your heart out of your chest and watching it walk around, indeed.  These walking hearts of mine, they say things I couldn't say. Is it pride or the forgetfulness of age that causes me to keep these things buried? 
I put my head back on my pillow, and I wait for those words to sink down into my heart.

Part of me made an Overly Ambitious Reading List, while the other part of me is making fun of her.

After screen-free week, I am determined to carve out some technology-free time this summer.
I want to make reading a priority.



Well, part of me does. Part of me is making big plans, setting goals and gathering ideas and making lists.  Part of me is looking forward to summer. Part of me thinks I will actually finished the unabridged version of Les Miserables AND read several chapter books to the children. Part of me can't wait to potty train the 2 1/2 year-old, give drawing lessons to the 7 year-old, help the 8 year-old run her cleaning business, learn how to bind books with the 10 year-old, work on fair projects, tend to my garden, etc etc...

The other part of me is laughing-
you can't even keep your house clean? Why bother coming up with all this other stuff?

Our summer routines will be decided by the winner of the wrestling match between my two selves.

Or, more likely, my two selves will take turns being in charge, and we will all live in confusion.
So basically, summer will be normal.

But part of me is still hopeful that "normal"includes lots of reading this summer.
So I thought I'd share my reading lists with you.

My overly ambitious reading lists

To Read (All by myself, preferably in a lawn chair while I soak my feet in cold water)
To-Read to kids (chapter books)

Need more ideas for your lists?
Books I love (you can browse by category)
Pictures Books we love
Children's Chapter Books We Love

Can we read them ALL?What's on your reading list?

Desperate for sunshine

It was raining, and the morning crawled along.  How can it be only 8:00?
I sipped coffee, and made a hearty effort to be fun mommy. The activity was a good one, in theory, but someone hit someone, and the markers spilled, and one was in tears, and nobody was listening to me, and then, my patience was completely gone.  
It was 8:05.
God, how are we going to make it through this morning?


But God causes the sun to rise on the evil and the good. And so, by grace alone, the rain stopped and the sun came out.  
Desperately we went out into the rain-soaked world.And, as He so often does, God distracted us from our complaints by overwhelming us with beauty.
It was everywhere.


I took a picture of him smelling the flowers, and he consented, but then he made sure that I stopped to smell them for myself, too.I love when they care for me in this way.


And to me, the smell of roses mixes in my memories with the taste of red raspberries,because my Grandmother nurtured both in her yard,and she shared the sweetness and the beauty with me.Raspberries and roses.


Why is this one different than the others?Wonderfully odd.


I never get tired of the beauty of water on things.Thirst quenched.
And mine is, too.
My heart expands again, as I behold His works.

 My  heart expands, filled with the beauty of spring around me, and once again,filled and grateful for the beauty of the little hands and noses and feet that explore this world with me. 

Messy Mommy Jobs #11 & Link Up

Messes. I wish I could ban them while my foot heals. But no. They want to paint.


That helpless feeling when your kid is covered in paint,and you can't move quickly!

Good thing this girl is kind to her mama.

And she cleaned up her mess, too.
Smoothies-
fun to drink, even more fun to spit all over your brother.

 Hey boys wanna help me make bread?
(Yay, mama!)Ok just let me put away these 2 dishes....(What? They were bored for those 5 seconds. They had to do something!)

Ok, now help me carry the wheat.Don't spill it, don't spill it, don't spill it, don't....



If you have a blog, link up with me below! ( Links back are always appreciated!)Your post can be anything at all mess-related; cleaning tips, organizing tips, thoughts on a messy life, a messy craft project, or just fun pictures of your kids doing something messy!

mono-tasking

Food for thought this weekend...


What I learned from a Buddhist monk
The word "mono-tasking" will forever stick in my brain.  I pray that God help me learn to do this!
It may not be possible all of the time (especially with small children!) but perhaps I will learn to be this way  at least some of the time!


And now, I am turning off online distractions for the weekend.

When I mother, I shall mother.
And when I eat, I shall eat.
When I nap, I will nap.
And when I see their little gifts, I shall truly see them.

(with the help of God!)



Join me?

The perfect dose

Afternoon sun, children playing, but my Little Man is grumpy.He climbs up, snot-covered, begging for a place on my lap. I wrap him in my arms and my jacket.He rests, a content comfort-taker, in my arms.
He is wrapped in the warmth of mom and God.
We hide together from the cool breeze.  The perfect dose of sunshine rests on us, and we see no reason to move.  My wedding ring reflects rainbows, but I think of this boy, and his forever-life, made to last longer even than the diamond I wear.  I hold this life in its small beginnings, this little, eternal life.  
A gust of wind reaches his bare legs, and he complains.  I fix his small problem, gladly, and he rests again.
On my lap and in my care I feel the light weight of a little boy. But what is the weight of his life, his eternal soul?  I cannot comprehend the gravity of this moment, this vocation. I fear it would crush me if I could.
Yet at this moment, his heaviness does not oppress.My son and my God have surrounded me with gentle, forever-warmth.
I receive the sun in its perfect dose, and I am also a comfort-taker.

(Book Review: The Shallows)

Do the tools we use change us even as we use them?

The author makes a compelling case that they do, and he urges us consider how the Net is changing our brains.

He provides a brief and fascinating overview of major technological changes throughout history- the map, the clock, the printing press- and explains how these inventions have forever changed society and even the way we think. He explains neuro-plasticity and argues that new technologies even change the physical shape of our brains- as we learn new abilities, we lose old ones.

”Our indulgence in the pleasures of informality and immediacy has led to a narrowing of expressiveness and a loss of eloquence.” 108

The author is not an alarmist or a radical. He is not urging his readers to unplug, move to the mountains, and hide from the evil Net. 

However, he makes a strong case that our online lives are changing the way we think and interact, and some of these changes are not good. He urges us to reflect on these things, and even as we use this technology, to use it wisely. We must guard our ability to read deeply, to connect emotionally, and to think logically about complicated issues. 

A personal note: As I read this I wanted to prove the author wrong, to focus completely on his ideas with all my attention, to prove to him that though I am almost always online, I am still capable of "deep reading." Yet, I found the urge to share what I am reading with those online IMMEDIATELY impossible to resist (hence my frequent goodreads updates and a few facebook quotes.) I also typed notes as I read, as I know that I rarely retain more difficult ideas if I do not get them "down." 

Yes, I am as he says, a word processor.

As I read through chapter 3, I also answered five texts, put in a movie for my children, and handed the kindle to the 2yr old because he was bored with the movie.

And I asked myself, is this just life nowadays? Why should I fight it? 

After reading this book, I have decided that yes, this is modern life, and yes, I should fight it. I will not hide from it, but I am newly motivated to fight it with strict boundaries, and to exercise my brain in more focused ways. I do not want to be one of those thoughtful people who "comfortably into the permanent state of distraction that defines the online life." p.112

Do you relate? Read this book. 

And now, a few of my favorite quotes- with my comments in italics.

Whether I’m online or not, my mind now expects to take in information the way the Net distributes it: in a swiftly moving stream of particles. Once I was a scuba diver in the sea of words. Now I zip along the surface like a guy on a Jet Ski. 7

And the speed is exhilarating, isn't it?

It wasn’t just that so many of my habits and routines were changing as I became more accustomed to and dependent on the sites and services of the Net. The very way my brain worked seem to be changing. It was then that I began worrying about my inability to pay attention to one thing for more than a couple of minutes. At first I’d figured that the problem was a symptom of middle-age mind rot. But my brain, I realized, wasn’t just drifting. It was hungry. It was demanding to be fed the way the Net fed it—and the more it was fed, the hungrier it became. 16

Hungry for data, for connection, for fast-paced life... even if my real life around me is fast paced already!

Even the earliest silent readers recognized the striking change in their consciousness that took place as they immersed themselves in the pages of a book. The medieval bishop Isaac of Syria described how, whenever he read to himself, “as in a dream, I enter a state when my sense and thoughts are concentrated. Then, when with prolonging of this silence the turmoil of my memories is stilled in my heart, ceaseless waves of joy are sent me by inner thoughts, beyond expectation suddenly arising to delight my heart.” Reading a book was a meditative act, but it didn’t involve a clearing of the mind. It involved a filling, or replenishing, of the mind. Readers disengaged their attention from the outward flow of passing stimuli in order to engage it more deeply with an inward flow of words, ideas, and emotions. That was—and is—the essence of the unique mental process of deep reading. 65

Yes! and this is why an hour of surfing around the internet does not refresh me like an hour of reading a book!  

“The Net’s interactivity gives us powerful new tools for finding information, expressing ourselves, and conversing with others. It also turns into lab rats constantly pressing levers to get tiny pellets of social or intellectual nourishment.” 117

They are yummy, but  yes, they are tiny.

Imagine filling a bathtub with a thimble; that’s the challenge involved in transferring information from working memory into long-term memory. By regulating the velocity and intensity of information flow, media exert a strong influence on this process. When we read a book, the information faucet provides a steady drip, which we can control by the pace of our reading. Through our single-minded concentration on the text, w e can transfer all or most of the information thimbleful by thimbleful, into long-term memory and force the rich associations essential to the creation of schemas. With the Net, we face many information faucets, all going full blast. Our little thimble overflows as we rush from one faucet to the next. We're able to transfer only a small portion of the information to long-term memory, and what we do transfer is a jumble of drops from different faucets, not a continuous, coherent stream from one source. 125

What an analogy. This makes me think.... I often do feel like the one rushing from faucet to faucet...

The development of a well-rounded mind requires both an ability to find and quickly parse a wide range of information and a capacity for open-ended reflection. There needs to be time for efficient data collection and time for inefficient contemplation, time to operate the machine and time to sit idly in the garden. We need to work in Google's "world of numbers," but we also need to be able to retreat to Sleepy Hollow. The problem today is that we're losing our ability to strike a balance between those two very different states of mind. Mentally, we're in perpetual locomotion. 168

What do you think?
The Net is here to stay, and there are many reasons to celebrate this.  But consider the possible negative effects as stated above- are you noticing similar things in your own life? Is it worth fighting against the tide, or shall we just learn to be content here in the shallows?

Interested?
Read this review, too.
and also, read the book

His Words make good earplugs. (Hobbling Mama #2)

There are books on the floor, but I need to ice my foot. I sit here, trying to quiet the voices of things left undone in this house. They don't understand why I'm not listening to their demands. I usually do. The crooked, broken, sticky messy things nag me, not caring about my injury.

The little boys are aware of my injury, so much so that they are using it to their advantage.  A mom who cannot move quickly does not have to be obeyed quickly.  A mom on crutches might let it go, just this one time, and maybe a few more.

Things are slipping out of control.

Yet they are finally sleeping, and it is raining.
I sit with my Bible and my laptop, and I try to grab just one little moment of peace.

The things undone laugh at me.
Peace cannot be found in all this clutter.

But distraction can.
I open my email, my blogger dashboard, my facebook.
And it feels like more clutter.  More nagging. No peace.
I close the laptop.



1 Peter
Peter, and apostle of Jesus Christ,
to those who reside as aliens, scattered throughout Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia, who are chosen....

To those who reside as aliens, who are scattered- yes, I am part of this. I am part of God's family, promised life but living in a dying world.  I am not at home here.

Who are chosen.
Chosen.  My thoughts rest in this word for a moment.
I am chosen. Loved.

...according to the foreknowledge of God the father, by the sanctifying word of the Spirit, unto obedience and sprinkling with His blood: May grace and peace by yours in the fullest measure.

Yes, His precious blood, His body given for me.  His death means forgiveness for me. His blood means grace. His grip on me...
His grip means peace.
I am caught up in the work of the Trinity.

The boys sleep. The rain from heaven falls gently, and from my window I see the thirst of the earth satisfied.  I see quiet growth, and green, cared-for life.

And I want to take a picture of it, but my foot and my God remind me to be still.

I am still.
And my ears are full of His Word, so I cannot hear the jeers of the things undone.
I listen to the soft rain shower, watch His kindness to the earth.  I consider how much more He cares for me.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to his great mercy has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to obtain an inheritance which is imperishable and undefiled and will not fade away, reserved in heaven for you, who are protected by the power of God, through faith, for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.  

In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials...

1 Peter 1:1-6

Thank you Father, for the joy and peace that is found in Your grip.
Love, your daughter.

Troll Mama Workout

Troll mama workout (by Carrie Cook)

1. Move sofa out of the way.
2. Replace Disney DVD with exercise video.
3. Explain to biggest troll that the ladies on the video aren't being naughty, exercise clothes sometimes show bellies like bathing suits.
4. Shoo baby troll away from cords.
5. Praise middle troll for trying to exercise too.
6. Pry baby troll off of your legs any time you stand still for longer than 2 seconds.
7. Answer no fewer than 15 questions (some repeated) for middle troll.
8. Request that the biggest troll pull the baby troll off your back.
9. Keep reminding big trolls that you need space so you don't injure them.
10. Restart DVD when baby troll commandeers the remote.
11. Chase down weights / any other gear that trolls have confiscated when you're not looking.
12. Watch out for trolls using you as a tunnel.
13. Hug any trolls you accidentally bump or knock over.
13. Perform various exercises throughout while the big trolls tell you that's not what the fitness ladies are doing.
14. Collapse on the floor at the end of the cool-down with exhaustion that has little to do with exercise.


[image error]The Trolls

Hobbling mama #1

Here I am, with my foot in the air, resting.A minor stress fracture or muscle strain, I think.Rest is in order.
[image error]


This wouldn't be so bad if I could actually handle it with grace.

It barely hurts.
I am helped by my children, husband, friends.
I am commanded to be still.
It wouldn't be so bad, if only I could handle it with grace.

Yet I am restless in my rest.
Last week, slowing down and turning off the screens, was rest for my soul even in the busyness that filled our days. This week, my body is not allowed the normal busyness, but my soul wiggles and fights within me.

I sit with my feet up while my daughter makes dinner.
While my friend cleans my kitchen.
While my husband puts children to bed,
and children go to sleep without mommy tucks. And they understand, sort of.
They bring me stuffed animals to comfort me, and I feel forgiven for not getting up.

I receive grace with skin on, and I am grateful, but I hate it.

The Martha in me writhes in agony. 
And I could go to the screens, I could busy myself with countless digital distractions.
It almost feels like a way to rebel from this forced rest.
Artificial busy-ness. But it is not rest, nor is it productivity.

I lost myself in a wonderful novel yesterday, and that was good.
But it was not rest.

I try to rely on the little people for this and that, but it requires so many words. I am worn out from parenting from an armchair.  "Please bring me the red book on the floor, on the FLOOR, the BOOK, the RED book, no THE RED ONE!"
If only they knew how difficult it was, perhaps they would not wrestle around like kids instead of listening, and perhaps I would not erupt in angry words, words directed at them but anger flowing from my unrest.

And I fear even putting words to the emotions because they are ridiculous, overblown, sinful.  Yet I find myself angry:

at the "injustice" of being less than 100% healthy and mobile.
at a family for not seeing what I see in this house, the never-ending list of things to be done, for stopping to chat with me instead of doing, doing, doing the things that should be done around here.
at the ridiculous sympathy offered to me by others.
at being an object of help, of charity
at the fact that I actually need that help and charity.

I am cared-for.
And I fight it like a baby fighting a nap.
I contort my body in all directions, squirming and moving away from the help I need.

This is a minor inconvenience, and I am a big, big girl.
I should be able to handle this without my sin flaring up so bad.

This wouldn't be so bad if I could actually handle it with grace.

And it's funny, in a way.
One would think I would know how to be weak and loved by now;
to worry less about "handling it with grace" and lean more heavily on His grace.

Sometimes, I think the Christian life is simply learning the same lessons over and over again.
Ever feel that way?

be a charity case