I Know Who I Am

27 Days to a Happy Mom - Day 3 

Being the only girl in my family, much of the task of cleaning out my mother's things after her death has fallen to me.  I go over and visit my dad often, keep him company, encourage him to exercise and eat, and check up on his Parkinson's medications.  He's not ready to part with much yet - the task is too sad, too daunting.

We looked through her cedar chest the other day.  I pulled out her wedding veil, a blue garter, and baby clothes from when my brothers and I were tiny.  Two unused, hand-crocheted baby blankets.  A cheerful yellow quilt.  And several sets of fine linen tablecloths and matching napkins.  They must have been wedding presents, more than 40 years ago.  But they were never used.  Never even taken out of their packaging and ribbons.  Never loved.  I guess Mom was waiting for a "special" occasion, or felt that these linens were too fancy for regular use.  "Special" never came.

How "special" do I have to be before I can pull out the fancy napkins or the china dinnerware?  How wonderful must I become before I can simply accept a sincere compliment without trying to deflect it?  How important must I get before I can think that I am something else?  How important are you?  Don't answer that yet - women especially have a knack for devaluing themselves.  We just need to quit it!

To me, self-worth is quite different from self-esteem or self-confidence.  I used to know what self-esteem is, but because the term is now so over-used, it has lost much of its specific meaning.  In general, it is what we think of ourselves.  Self-confidence is our assessment of our own competency.  Our true worth, however, has nothing to do with anything we think or  do.

J.K. Rowling, in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, put it this way:

"We're all human, aren't we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.” 

I am of worth, simply because I exist.  I believe that God made me, and I am His daughter.  THAT, just that,  makes me awesome.  And you, too.  This is the great thing about religion.  I get to believe that there is a God in Heaven and that He is the Father of my spirit, and that He loves me no matter what.  How comforting is that!

Thinking this brings a little bounce to my step.  It helps to part the clouds on a dreary day.  I am of worth - infinite worth!  I am a daughter of a Heavenly Father who loves me.

I love this quote from Toni Sorenson, from Women of Christ: Of Infinite Worth:

“We are spiritual children of God the Father. We preach it. We sing it. But do we really understand it? Sometimes it’s easy to tell others they are loved, but not so easy to believe it of ourselves — not because we don’t think God loves His children, but because we may feel undeserving of His love. The adversary loves to remind us who we are not. Not pretty. Not smart. Not strong. But God would not have sacrificed His Son to save us if we aren't worth saving.” 

Or how about Brennan Manning, in Souvenirs of Solitude: Finding Rest in Abba's Embrace:

“Lord, when I feel that what I'm doing is insignificant and unimportant, help me to remember that everything I do is significant and important in your eyes, because you love me and you put me here, and no one else can do what I am doing in exactly the way I do it.” 

Amy Jones wrote more descriptively of a beautiful worth-defining moment in "Dancing in the Light of a Christmas Tree:"

"For a moment, I saw myself through God's eyes, and it was glorious. I was completely myself. Not the self that others expected me to be. Not even the self that I was 'supposed' to be. The self that God knew was in me - the truest part of my soul. What freedom I felt then. I was of worth. I was worth something because I was myself. Me. God loved me, not my skills or my looks. I was beautiful and precious just because I was His daughter."

And no quote fest is quite complete without a quip from Dr. Suess:

Just for today... look at your beautiful, wonderful self in the mirror and tell yourself, "God made me, He loves me, I am His daughter, and I have gobs and gobs of worth (and even more than $112K a year!)

And that makes me happy. 

Do You Really Want to be Happy?

27 Days to a Happy Mom - Day 2

image credit

Before we talk any more about being happy, I have to know if you WANT to be happy.  Are you content being miserable?  Do you think you will be taken more seriously if you are glum?  Are you worried you won't get your point across if you aren't angry?  Is being a martyr too satisfying?  Are you so deep in depression that you don't think it will ever change, so you've given up trying?  

These are real feelings, folks.  Have I felt this way?  Let's see:  yes, yes, oh yes, no comment, and a big depressed YES.  But yes, you can be happy and win arguments, you can happily stick up for yourself, you can be happy and important, and it is completely possible to dig out of depression and get to happiness.

If unhappy is where you really want to be, I can't do anything for you.  Just keep doing whatever it is that you've been doing that got you where you are.  I can't change you - only you can.  If, on the other hand, you do want to try something to help you breathe easier, or if you just tell people that things are ducky (while inside you're crying to get out of your dim emotional dungeons), then let's see what we can do.

Think for just a moment about being happy.  Remember that we aren't necessarily talking about Mrs. Cleaver or Mayberry happy here.  Just a peaceful, smiling satisfaction about ourselves, our families, and life in general.  If that's what you want, or what you might be willing to try, then you have to try something different.  We have to change something in order to change where we are, and this change isn't scary - it's exciting!

We'll have to murder the martyr.  We'll put away the sackcloth and ashes, and lock away the long faces.  We can do this, and it is worth it.

Just for today... smile.  Smile as much as you can.  Smile until it hurts - we are building happy muscles here, folks.  It doesn't matter how tiny it might be to start with, or even if you have to plaster on a plastic smile because you don't feel like working up a real one.  Just pull up the corners of your mouth and smile.

27 Days to a Happy Mom

Welcome to our lively, crazy, maddeningly marvelous home!  I've been coming out of my cocoon of depression for the last year, and I'm finally figuring out how fun it is to be happy.  Not the giddy junior high girl kind of happy, or the Prozac kind, either.  And I'm not promoting happiness just for the sake of being happy.  Quite the contrary:

As I have been discouraged, I found that trying to be happy just made me more discouraged that I wasn't happy yet.  But I'm slowly learning that life is better when I am happy.  Just the peaceful, smile-on-my-face, quiet, life-is-good kind of happy.  Other people find it easier to be around me when I'm happy.  My home runs more smoothly when I'm happy.  I make and keep friends more when I am happy.  My husband is happy when I am happy.  And how better to teach my children to be happy than... you've got it.

So I'll be writing this month about how to be a happy mom - because not only is it possible, but wonderful!  Join me for:

Week 1: Happy With Me
     Day 2: Do You Really Want to be Happy?
     Day 3: I Know Who I Am
     Day 4: Let Go of the Past
     Day 5: Happy Today
     Day 6: Happiness Through Hope

Week 2: Happy With Hubby
     Day 7: Why Are You Married, Anyway?
     Day 8: So Stay Married
     Day 9: Accentuate the Positive
     Day 10: Cups, Boxes, and the Steering Wheel
     Day 11: Happy in the Bedroom!
     Day 12: Marriage Bucket List

Week 3: Happy With Children
     Day 13: I Like Being a Mom!
     Day 14: Best Job in the World
     Day 15: Be There
     Day 16: Clean Up Your Act
     Day 17: Share Mom Connections
     Day 18: Parenting Resources

Week 4: Happy Through Service
     Day 19: Give Yourself Credit
     Day 20:  Helping Makes Happy
     Day 21: I Don't Have to Help
     Day 22: Looking to Help
     Day 23: Spread Sunshine
     Day 24: The Graceful Receiver

Week 5: Happy Forever
     Day 25: Happy to Be
     Day 26: Families Can Be Together Forever
     Day 27: Happy With Him

I'm joining in with the Nester and, oh... hundreds of other online writers (Anita is listed at #727.  And there are over 1200.  Wow!) who are taking the  "31 Days" challenge.  Mine will only be 27 days because I won't be writing on the Sabbath.  Hope to see you all the other days!

So Happy

I just got home from a women's conference with hundreds of beautiful women.  It was broadcast to hundreds of thousands of women across the globe.  The vision and unity were impressive; the musical numbers awesome; the talks inspired.

This meeting is held every fall, and in my neck of the woods we have a nice dinner beforehand.  For years, I have asked, begged, my mother to come with me.  In her poor health, she always told me that if she had to walk more than 30 steps, she would pass on the offer.  So she never came, and I always missed her.

I knew I would miss her all the more today.  I knew I would miss not only sitting with her and enjoying her company, but I would miss all the future times that we could have been together.  Losing a loved one is not only in the now, but in the quashed future opportunities, as well.  I had a picture in my head of arriving just a pinch late - enough so I wouldn't have to visit with anyone before the dinner started - sitting by myself and my memories, and wallowing in my grief.

Instead, a neighbor spotted me standing near the door.  She pulled me in and we sat at a table together.  She told me that she had been thinking of me, remembering that this conference was hard for her to attend after her own mother had passed away.  After the dinner, another three neighbor ladies joined us for the meeting.

I think the Lord gently placed that sweet neighbor in my path to remind me that wallowing is not why we are here.  It's hard to do much of anything when we are sad.  And not that we shouldn't grieve, and miss our loved ones, but that His love can fill up the empty and broken parts of our hearts.  He means for us to be happy.

And I am happy.  My heart is full.    In fact, I think I'll take on a writing challenge annually thrown down by the Nester (one of my favorite online writers) to write about something for 31 days - the whole month of October.  I won't write on Sundays, so my writing will be for a mere 27 days.

And my topic?  I choose happy.

Night Games

We have a big yard.  A large lot was one of the things we were looking for in a house.  I thought half an acre would be big enough for our brood, but Trent wanted more.  Our yard is one of the biggest in the neighborhood, and I think we're starting to regret it.  A large lot requires more work and money to keep up than we had anticipated.  Nevertheless, the kids love it (except on work days).  And the neighborhood kids love our yard, too.

The folks who lived here before us were the sweet, but distant, grandparently type.  The first weekend after we moved in, the doorbell rang.  It was a bunch of kids, wanting to know if they could come over and play night games as soon as it got dark.  They'd never played in our yard, and thought our grassy spaces and mature bushes would be great to run and hide in.  They were right.

They've been playing night games on the weekends ever since.  Some weeks the numbers are sparse, and the boys run around the neighborhood to drum up players.  Some weeks it turns out to be the younger teens and tweens.  Some weeks it is the younger elementary set.  Some weeks there is a veritable mob.

Tonight there was a good group of kids running wild around our yard.  They yell and scamper.  I love watching them.  It was fun to see a tall, lanky boy duck out from under the bushes, followed by an older girl shepherding her little brother along.  It's just fun.  They have so much fun playing.

I wish I could go and play so lightheartedly.  Wouldn't it be fun?  And irresponsible?  And fun?

Don't Give Up

My mother loved music.  She played the organ at church from when she was in high school until just recently.  She taught us and half the neighborhood to play the piano.  She encouraged and paid for percussionists, trombonists, a violinist, and singing in choirs.  And marching band.  That one deserves its own sentence.

She loved to listen to music around the house, too.  She and my dad had lots of vinyl records, then cassette tapes, then CDs, and then she put it all on iTunes.  Josh Groban was one of her favorites.  She loved his music so much that she inadvertently bought two copies of one of his CDs.  When she realized her doubling up, she laughed and gave the spare to me.  I loved it, but only listened to the songs a time or two before the CD disappeared.  Things do get lost around here.

As we have been packing up Alec's room, somehow the CD resurfaced.  I guess my boy loved the music, too.  I couldn't wait for a quiet moment to listen to it again, but things were so busy - so crazy.

It had been a demanding day, and I was worn out from giving.  It was one of those days that you can't seem to end soon enough, and you dread having to repeat in the morning.  I didn't know if I had the strength to face everything again.  I popped the CD into my stereo as I was getting ready for bed.  The first song is breathtakingly gorgeous.  But the second song made me grind to a halt.  I sank into a chair and just sat and cried.

"You Are Loved (Don't Give Up)" Josh Groban

Don't give up.  It's just the weight of the world.

When your heart's heavy, I will lift it for you.

Don't give up because you want to be heard.

If silence keeps you, I will break it for you.

Everybody wants to be understood; well I can hear you.

Everybody wants to be loved.

Don't give up because you are loved

Don't give up.  It's just the hurt that you hide.

When you're lost inside I will be there to find you.

Don't give up because you want to burn bright.

If darkness blinds you, I will shine to guide you.

Everybody wants to be understood; well I can hear you.

Everybody wants to be loved.

Don't give up because you are loved.

You are loved.  Don't give up.

It's just the weight of the world.

Don't give up.

Every one needs to be heard.

You are loved!

I heard my mother as I listened - loving me, encouraging me.  She spoke right through to my heart.  She was always my biggest cheerleader.  But as I listened more closely, I could hear that she was just quoting our Savior, as if they were saying the words straight to me.

"Keep going.  I know what you are going through.  I have infinite love for you.  Follow Me and I will show you the way."

And I think I will continue to press forward.  Because now I have the strength again.  Thanks, Mom.  Thanks, Lord.  I needed that.

The Rebel

I took Santa Claus my dad over to the barbershop today.  He's been growing out his beard since my mother died.  Before we left, he wanted me to take a picture of the beard, because it was time to shave it off.  "Are you getting sick of it?" I asked.  He thoughtfully replied that he had been tired of it a while ago, but that since he had made his point, he could shave it off now.

As I talked to him, I learned that he had been growing the beard because my mother didn't like it.  Now that she is gone, he can grow one if he wants to.  That was the point he felt like he had to make.  He said he was a little bit of a rebel with it on.

My sweet, gentle, model-train-playing dad - a rebel?  The thought makes me smile.  But I nod my head with love and understanding because I've been a rebel, too.  After my husband, Jay, died, I did a lot of things I didn't do when he was with us.  We ordered in pizza.  We went out for dinner and ate greasy burgers at fast food joints.  I even let the boys have races up and down the hallway in the wheelchair he wouldn't let them touch.

I don't know that I was acting like that because I was angry with him, or to spite him.  It's just that when someone leaves - especially someone you have spent a lot of energy caring for - you naturally expand a little bit.  Don't we go out to dinner more after our babies are old enough to have a babysitter?  Don't we stay up a little bit later (or maybe a lot later) after we aren't under our parents' curfew?

Or maybe we are naturally a little bit rebellious.  We like to do things our own way, and chafe when we can't.  We rebel a bit against the speed limit, or the 20 items limit at the checkout, or the amount on our property tax bill, or the spouse who doesn't do things the way we like it.  And we rebel against God, by telling Him that our way of living is just fine, thankyouverymuch.

Maybe it's time to shave off the rebel beard.  Yes, I an choose what it is that I want to do each day.  My agency is one of God's greatest gifts to me.  But I can do what I do because I choose to - because I want to - instead of in reaction to anything or anyone else.

Yup, clean shaven and in full use of my own ability to choose feels real nice.  And Dad looks great, too.