May As Well Enjoy (Part Deux)

I'm coming back to apply an add-on to Sunday's post...mostly because honesty is important to me and balance is a necessary ingredient when we talk about perspective (which is a theme that keeps cropping up for me here). I realized that my original post just needed a little more fleshing out, so bear with me.

This afternoon, I took the kids back to base housing to let the twins and Twinkle play on that little playground I mentioned Sunday and let the big boys enjoy the basketball court next door. We'd been there about fifteen minutes before I noticed: the sand where the playground sat was covered in broken glass shards leftover from the hurricane. I am not talking, "There were a few broken beer bottles that I easily picked up and threw away." I'm also not talking, "The sun glistened on the broken glass, its rays reflecting to create a beautiful rainbow blah blah blah fantastic life lesson blah blah." I'm talking, "I am letting my five year olds and two year old slide into a sand pit full of broken glass, and someone is going to die or at the very least get sent the the ER, at which point, protective services is going to take my children away from me forever...and I'll probably deserve it."

It felt like a slap in the face.

And I'm not going to lie, it especially felt like a slap in the face because I had literally just written a super positive post about embracing where you are. So let me caveat: if where you are is covered in broken glass, embrace with caution. At the very least, maybe keep scouting for another playground.

But I also want to say this: I had someone tell me this week about how they could never do what I do (RV living with five homeschooled kids in a disaster zone, I guess) and how they are amazed at how positive I am. If this thought has ever crossed your mind or some version of this thought in relation to some other person, let me say this: God calls us to different kinds of hard. And this is a hard season that God has clearly called me to. He has something else for you.

Just like I don't need to embrace a playground covered in broken glass, so you don't need to force yourself into hard situations that are not intended for you.

With that said, I am not always positive (far from it), and this is not always easy. Just this morning, I was making pancakes (nothing so hard about that), and looking around our RV and had a complete panic moment about being there for another year. Another year without accessing any of the things we threw into a storage unit (that are hopefully not covered in mold), things that most of our friends lost outright in the hurricane (so, note that I'm aware how petty this is). Another year of emptying out black tanks and gray tanks. Another year of the washer/dryer cheerfully shrinking our clothes and leaving them nice and wrinkly. Another year of hoping we don't run out of gas before I've made my coffee in the morning. Another year of wanting to hide in the RV because I don't want to see the destruction around me.

And then, very quietly, I heard in my heart, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Even this. I can do small things like fry a batch of pancakes. I can do hard things like fight back tears day in and day out so that I can be emotionally available to my kids. I can do impossible things like choosing joy when the world around looks incredibly bleak. All things through Christ. Who strengthens me. Whether or not I deserve it. Whether or not I remember to ask for it. Whether or not I make the wisest choices with my time and energy. He is always there (Emmanuel--Christ with us) offering to strengthen me, offering to revive me, offering to hold me up in his everlasting arms.

So yes, embrace where you are and who you are with and enjoy, but know that you are not doing it because you are some positive, effervescent embodiment of spirituality--you are doing it because Christ strengthens you. But that doesn't mean you should let your kids go play in broken glass.

May As Well Enjoy

There is a tendency, for many of us, to go into survival mode when things get rough. We concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other and find ourselves with hardly any energy left for anything else. Survival begins to feel like all we are capable of. If you are there: this is not me judging. 90% of the time, I am there too.

But the last couple of weeks, there has been a little voice in my head saying, "You live here. You may as well enjoy it." So we've started occasionally walking the dog on the beach near where the RV is parked. We have to drive, but it's still a beach. There's a lot of debris around, but the water is beautiful. And we took a picnic down there last week and played on a playground that is miraculously still standing.

Today, I drove the kids back into base housing. They aren't mowing any more, of course, and so the fields between houses have been taken over by wildflowers. We picked a vaseful and found another playground that was (miraculously!) also stable. And this afternoon, I broke my own rule about not going to the beach unless it's at least 75 degrees, and we drove back to the old neighborhood and snuck down to our old beach. I say snuck, but there's no one there to notice.

It was fascinating walking on the sand and seeing the tracks of bear, raccoon, heron, and deer, but not a single footprint other than the ones we were leaving behind. Someone had abandoned a couple older kayaks, and the kids had a great time paddling them around in the shallow water, using their hands for oars. They're hoping the Man will buy them a real paddle next time. Or two.

But today, as I've been thinking about enjoying where I live (to the best of my ability--broken windows and half torn off roofs aren't terribly picturesque), I realized that this applies to so much more than just setting. It's looking at my kids and asking myself: do I enjoy them or am I just enduring until they move out of the house at 18? It's looking at my husband and asking myself: have I forgotten how much fun he is? When was the last time we went on a date together? Are we just co-parents and roommates or am I remembering he was my best friend first? It's even asking about my relationship with Christ: was my quiet time just a check mark for the day? Am I fully reveling in his joy? Do I truly treasure him?

And sometimes, it's in small ways. I poured that cup of coffee. Let me sit down and enjoy it, instead of racing around washing dishes and starting the laundry and sweeping the floor while it gets cold. I picked up that book from the library. Let me really savor it, instead of forgetting that it's there while instead mindlessly surfing the internet. I washed those sheets. Let me take a quick shower and put on clean pajamas so I can really enjoy the one night this week when I will be sleeping without an extra blanket of pet fur.

Enjoyment doesn't take very long. And it takes hardly any energy at all. But it is sometimes so easy to miss out on when we've been in survival mode for too long.

I guess this is just a little reminder to myself for later down the road (and possibly for you too, if you need it), you live here: you may as well enjoy it. You have those kids: you may as well enjoy them. You married that man: you may as well enjoy him. Slow down (even if not for very long). Really look around you. Savor. Enjoy. Don't miss the good gifts God is giving even in the midst of the struggle.

But maybe don't enjoy it quite this much.

A Garden of Should

We have now lived in the RV half of the amount of time that we lived in the actual house on base here. It's redefining the way I see permanent and temporary. It's also been making me think some about the way we put down roots...or intentionally avoid putting down roots...or think we should be putting down more roots than we actually are.

This last week the kids and I bought plants, which always seems to me to be one way of planting my flag and saying, "Here, I stay! This is home!" Admittedly, I brought a potted gardenia bush down from my mom's last month, but she gave it to me while tactfully informing me that it was already dying so I couldn't do any worse. I was really excited that it seemed to be sprouting new leaves in the last few weeks only to notice it looking a bit scraggly the last couple of days. Turns out Bee was stealing leaves from it to make "soup" having been banned from pulling up the newly growing grass. She is now banned from all "soup" making endeavors from here on out.

Anyway, we have now added two small pots of succulents for the inside of the house (place your bets now on how long it will take me to kill them) and an herb garden that the kids conned me into. But this is just one kind of roots.

I knew we were putting down an altogether different kind when we went to the library on base the other day. I was last in line, herding the kids up the stairs and around the corner to the library when I heard footsteps and a male voice saying, "Well, hi there!" Followed by a brief pause. "And hi to you too! And you! And hi to you!" I rounded the corner, holding Twinkle, to see a pair of men walking past my line of children, and I said to them, "They just keep coming, don't they?" The men laughed, and we proceeded down the hall to the library only to hear, faintly drifting up from the stairwell, "Oh, that's the Frizzells!"

Yes, that is the Frizzells. We may be infamous.

We are on a first name basis with the librarians (at both libraries). The office workers at the RV park expect Trigger to come in with us to get a dog treat when we check the mail. And they even brought our mail by for us when we'd been out of town for a week. But honestly, aside from the Man's work, our homeschool co-op, and our immediate RV neighbors (who can hear shrieks of glee and sometimes bellows of rage emanating from our trailer at all hours of the day), this is it. It is a small life.

And it feels kind of temporary. I guess that's what happens when you are living in an RV. And maybe that's as it should be. People here are busy rebuilding their lives, and we are just hanging on until the next assignment. Hanging on sounds like we are just barely surviving, and that's not what I mean. I bought plants, for goodness sake. But we know that this is not forever. You can do anything for a year (and some change). Even put down tiny tentative roots.

I find myself thinking, sometimes, about all the ways I "should" be putting down "real" roots. In my mind, I should be planting a metaphorical vegetable garden, with flowering borders and well-labeled signs, instead of being content with succulents and herbs. But oftentimes our "shoulds" are more a reflection of our own guilt and not really a reflection of reality.

I don't know if you are in a season of planting trees (and watering them well) or buying small succulents (and occasionally spritzing them with water while crossing your fingers and hoping for the best), but may we be faithful to walk in the right way...and then to ignore our own voices telling ourselves that it's not enough. May we remember today that it is enough to be faithful to what Christ calls us to do...and not try to unnecessarily add on more. The cross he has given us to bear is enough. Plant what he has called you to plant. Be where he has called you to be. Serve where he has asked you to serve. And be content to be small and let him be large, knowing that it's not about you, but about him, and the roots that hold us best are the ones sunk deeply into him.