The week after Christmas, my sister texted me to find out how our holiday in North Dakota had been. It was good, I told her. I got sick on the way there and didn’t feel like myself most of the time, but it was nice to get away.
Then I added this:
“I think this whole year has sort of finally caught up with me … a week in a secluded mountain cabin sounds really good about now.”
Last year, Molly’s school had a weekly program designed to help students become more comfortable discussing issues such as sadness and anxiety that can often lead to bigger problems like poor school performance and substance abuse.
While the “Everyone Struggles” sessions may have been useful for kids who enjoy talking about their feelings and troubles in front of their fellow sixth-graders, Molly hated them. My reticent daughter knew she could “pass” on any question that came up, but the very idea of sharing about such personal things in front of people at school frustrated her to no end.
I usually love writing these quarterly posts, but I had to work a little harder on this one.
It’s not that I haven’t learned anything lately. It’s more a matter of life coming at me so fast from so many directions that I’m still processing most of it.
I’m a bit worn out, a bit shocked by how quickly time is passing, more than a bit ready for gardening season.
Maybe you can relate. If so, I hope you take comfort in knowing that you’re not the only one. (That always makes me feel better, anyway.)
Without further ado, here are a few takeaways from this past season of my life.
• Spiritual warfare is real.
I already believed this. But I was reminded of it again when I found myself preparing to speak at my church’s annual Christmas Tea in December.
I’m usually the one who asks people to speak at this event, and some day soon, I’ll share how I ended up behind that podium myself. For now, though, I’ll just say that in the days and weeks leading up to the tea, struggles I thought I had left far behind started plaguing me in exhausting, discouraging ways.
I wanted to quit before I even started, and maybe I would have if I wasn’t the one who would have had to find my own replacement.
I’ve been down this road before, and I had a pretty good idea what was going on. But I’ve never been more thankful to hear from friends who understand the havoc that unseen spiritual forces can wreak when God is working.
“You have been in my prayers constantly the last couple of weeks,” one said in a text. “Praying a hedge of protection around your heart and mind,” wrote another.
The tea talk went well, but it took me awhile to recover. Which is why …
• It’s OK to leave when everyone else comes.
All of my out-of-town siblings, along with many of their spouses and children, came to Kansas in December to visit my parents. We saw many of them the week before Christmas, but a couple of days before Dec. 25, we packed up and drove to North Dakota.
It’s been several years since we spent Christmas with Randy’s folks, and even with so much of my family here, it just seemed like a good time to do it again. As the sibling who is most closely involved with my parents on a daily basis, I’m learning the value of leaving when others come home.
I don’t do it all the time, of course. But sometimes, it’s just good to get away.
And as someone who has hosted more holiday meals than I can count, I also can attest that nothing beats a Christmas dinner that is entirely prepared by one’s mother- and father- in-law. (Thanks, Northern Flowers.)
• Especially now, I love talking to my parents about their courtship.
My mom often can’t remember what she just ate for lunch, but her recollection of the role America’s pastor played in her own personal love story is as sweet and clear as ever.
The year was 1957. She was an Italian girl from the Bronx; he had come to New York from Milwaukee to attend graduate school. They met at a youth rally right before Billy Graham began his lengthy crusade at Madison Square Garden.
Together, they sang in the choir and served as counselors at the historic revival that went on night after night for almost 16 weeks. My parents didn’t meet Graham personally, but both have fond memories of the influence he had on their early days of “going steady.”
And hearing them talk about it—six decades later—makes me very happy.
• Watching Jane Austen movies with your teenage daughter makes a lovely experience even more enjoyable.
Until recently, Lilly much preferred Middle Earth to early 19th Century England, Jack Sparrow to Mr. Darcy, and Princess Leia to Lizzy Bennett.
But after she watched the Pride & Prejudice movie starring Keira Knightley, I convinced her to give the six-hour BBC miniseries a try. And now she’s as hooked on Jane Austen as I am.
So far, we’ve watched the two versions of Pride & Prejudice, Emma, two different takes on Sense & Sensibility and Persuasion (along with Jane Eyre to add a little flavor by a different author). Mansfield Park and Northanger Abbey are up next, as soon as other Austen devotees return them to our local library.
My girl’s newfound interest in Jane Austen hasn’t replaced her love for Lord of the Rings, Pirates of the Caribbean or Star Wars. She did, however, name the car we just bought for her to drive after a character in Sense & Sensibility.
That’s saying something, I think.
• Elbow grease can be just as satisfying as Demo Day.
We’ve been updating the bathroom in our basement this winter. If this room was on an HGTV show, the abundant cornflower blue tiles on the floor and bathtub walls would likely cause the room to be deemed a “total gut job.”
This is not HGTV, though. Our all-in budget of as little as possible allowed for a fresh coat of paint and new light fixtures but no new flooring.
That was OK with me—I didn’t want the mess that comes with tearing out tile, Randy didn’t want to do the work, and neither of us wanted to pay for it. But once the walls were painted (a lovely shade called “Stillness”) and a sparkly new light fixture installed above the sink, it was obvious that something had to be done about the nasty grout lines on the floor.
Over the course of many years, what used to be bright white had turned into dirty gray, and no amount of mopping (or wishful thinking) could make that gray go away. I searched online for a quick fix—some miracle potion I could simply pour on the floor and wipe off 15 minutes later—but found nothing.
I could have just covered up the nastiness with a white grout pen, but we’d always know what was underneath. So armed with The Works Foaming Bathroom Cleaner and a tool that looks like a large electric toothbrush, I started the painstaking process of scouring that grout.
I’d spray about two square feet, let it sit for 15 or 20 minutes, and then scrub away. It took me several weeks, but the closer I got to the finish line, the more satisfying it became.
I love shows like Fixer Upper as much as the next person. But in the real world, not everything has to be torn out to look good. Sometimes, all you need is persistence and some good old-fashioned elbow grease.
That’s my (not-so) short list—now what did you learn this winter?
♥ Lois
I love shows like Fixer Upper as much as the next person. But in the real world, not everything has to be torn out to look good. Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with Purposeful Faith, Emily Freeman, Coffee for Your Heart, Chasing Community, Faith on Fire, Faith ‘n Friends and Grace & Truth.
From an editorial standpoint, overusing words is an obvious no-no. There are times when repetition works well for dramatic effect, of course, but it’s usually better to eliminate words or phrases that appear more than once or twice in a paragraph.
That said, I’m glad the Apostle Paul wasn’t fixated on editing rules when he wrote the first chapter of 2 Corinthians. In the space of six sentences, he used some variation of the word comfort no less than nine times, including four mentions in these familiar verses:
In waiting rooms and living rooms, bedrooms and examination rooms. In the garden, the shower, the pickup line, the checkout line.
Love prays.
Through windshield time, nap time, crunch time, white-knuckle time.
Love prays.
On vacation days, sick days, project bid days. On beautiful days, hard days, tired days,
Love prays.
With anguished cries and whispers of praise, with a gush of words or no words at all.
Love prays.
When tears are flowing and stomachs are churning. When thankfulness is flowing and happiness is growing. When hearts are pounding and pulses are racing.
Love prays.
When the road is long, when the path is smooth. When the diagnosis is clear, when the outcome is uncertain. When the surgery is successful, when the procedure fails.
Love prays.
For wisdom, for healing, for strength, for protection. For peace, for comfort, for understanding, for faith. For redemption, for conviction, for boldness, for patience.
Love prays.
For what’s good, for what’s better, for what’s best.
Love prays.
When the future shines bright, when eternity shines brighter.
Love prays.
In the face of fear, of rejection, of discouragement. On days of grace and hope and change.
Love prays.
When the answers are obvious, when there’s no end in sight.
Love prays.
Across the miles, across the street. In the dead of night, at the break of dawn. Over the years and minute by minute.
Love prays.
When it’s hard to let go, when it’s hard to hold on.
Love prays.
During testing hours and weeks of blessing. During moments of rejoicing and seasons of grief.
Love prays.
When there’s too much to do and nothing left to do.
Love prays.
♥ Lois
When it’s hard to let go, when it’s hard to hold on ... Love prays. Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with Purposeful Faith, #TellHisStory, Coffee for Your Heart, Chasing Community, Faith on Fire, Faith ‘n Friends and Grace & Truth.
It’s a story that lives on in Flowers family lore.
Molly was little—still young enough to sleep in a crib and take afternoon naps.
Our sweet girl usually woke up from her siestas quietly. She’s always been resourceful and imaginative, so there’s really no telling what all she did when we thought she was sleeping. Knowing her like we do now, it’s safe to assume she spent a significant amount of time playing around in her bed before she ever let us know she wanted to get up.