Litany of Humility

At one point in my life, I thought that memorized, repeated prayers did not have as much meaning as a "real" (as in extemporaneous) prayer. But I've now come to love common prayer. It's a blessing to be able to sink into the carefully crafted words that have been uttered by many before me that so often express the things my heart knows even if my head wasn't ready to confess them.

A dear friend recommended the (Roman Catholic) Litany of Humility to me during a conversation about my struggles with motherhood, but really lifelong struggles that are just made more apparent as I endeavor to somehow lead by example.

I probably need to set a timer and just say it every 30 minutes. It's a good one.

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.

From the desire of being esteemed, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being loved, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being extolled, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being honored, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being praised, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being preferred to others, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being consulted, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being approved, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being humiliated, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being despised, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of suffering rebukes, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being calumniated, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being forgotten, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being ridiculed, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being wronged, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being suspected, Deliver me, Jesus.

That others may be loved more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be chosen and I set aside, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be praised and I unnoticed, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be preferred to me in everything, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

Yes, grant me the grace to desire it.

Your Exotic Life

When I was living in Melbourne, I met another American who'd spent some time in the San Francisco Bay Area. We got to chatting, and she asked if I'd lived in San Jose proper and a nearby Aussie sighed wistfully. "San Jose," she repeated dreamily. "It sounds so exotic."


Recently another Australian friend came through our area, and I can't tell you how much good it did my soul just to feed off of her youthful enthusiasm. It was her first time abroad, and she took me back to my first time traveling. I went to Italy. I was convinced the plane was going to crash because that was far more imaginable than the thought of me--ME traipsing around the Colosseum for heaven's sake!

My favorite thing about traveling is how small it makes me feel. The feeling that you're just a blip in history and a speck on this globe even in your own time...it's such a healthy smack upside the head to my worrywart, self-absorbed nature. But then there's also the novelty--somebody else's everyday seems so magical. Laundry hanging off clotheslines in an alley that echoes with the sounds of Italian daytime television.

Occasionally when I lived in San Francisco I'd nearly run over a tourist as I rushed off the bus to work, and my feeling of exasperation would wash away when I'd see their upturned faces, that feeling of smallness clearly written on them. And I would look up and around and remember.

But San Jose...San Jose is not exotic. Still, as I drove my young friend around and she exclaimed over the postman, and the street signs, and the American houses, the scales fell from my eyes for a moment and I saw the beauty of my everyday.

Sometimes I just need to remind myself to look up and feel small.

How I Fired My Housecleaners and Regained My Sanity

Reposting this from the old blog because it was a favorite and because I've got a follow-up post and another tangential post in mind...

I'm totally ahead of myself on this one. Totally smug. Clearly going to all fall apart as soon as I hit publish.

But I wanted you to know that I'm feeling better about mothering and housewifery in general (though I'm sure more valleys are on the way). And it all started when my housecleaners stood me up a couple of weeks ago.

I'd been planning my pathetic life around the housecleaners. They came every other week, and I tried to avoid having people over on the weeks that they didn't come. Because while two weeks is too long to go between cleaning sessions in this house...well, I did. I mean I did the dishes and wiped counters, but nothing that I considered yucky. Or inconvenient.

I'm not one of those fabulous women (bless their hearts) who say things like "I just can't rest knowing that the kitchen is a mess."

There are many times I cannot rest...I've had insomnia since I was a kid. But things that keep me up are worries that I made a mistake at work and will be fired and eventually end up homeless. Or regrets about how I phrased something I said to someone. Or wondering whether awesomesauce/awesome sauce is one word or two. But dishes? Dishes actually make me tired.

Anyway, the day I was stood up, in a fit of fury, I cleaned the kitchen. And while I worked, I cooked up a plan (heh, see what I did there). Having our babysitter come for four hours would be $20 less than the cleaning fee, and if I could manage to keep up the house better and finish cleaning in less than four hours, I might have some time left over to just BE.

And suddenly cleaning seemed to be a means to an end. An end that I liked (because the whole clean house as an end just doesn't completely do it for me). So I set up some morning and evening routines, and THEY WORK, y'all.

It's really amazing how little time it takes me to get through my list, and yet how magically clean the house stays when I do my list. And now I'm keeping the house clean on my own, and I somehow seem to have more time. Time to do things with the kids without feeling like I'm failing in the other part of my job description. And people can drop by any time and I'm not furtively shoving a dirty pot into the oven.

And I realize most people already do these things and can't believe there are people like me who are late to this party, but there it is. I'd plugged the wrong directions into my GPS, but I think I'm on my way now and I'm hoping you have one margarita left for me.

For those of you who are wondering what all this list entails, here ya go:

Morning Routine

Song, Ladybug, Prayer

Get Dressed

Unload Dishwasher

Cook and Eat Breakfast

Clean Up Dishes, Feed Kona

Start Laundry

Make Bed

 

Evening Routine

Dinner (6:15)

Clean Up All Dishes & Toys (6:45)

Bath Time (7:00)

Bible Reading (7:30)

Kids' Bedtime Routine (7:45)

_________________________________________

Start Dishwasher

Wipe Counters & Table

Swiffer Floor

Yup, pretty basic. But when I'm feeling overwhelmed by the house after we've hosted a big group or something, I just make sure I do the checklist and after one morning and one evening, things are usually back to normal.

Also, when I'm running on little sleep and feel like I should get a break, I tell myself I MUST do the things on my list and then I can...have another cup of coffee because there are no breaks in motherhood, sucka!

There are a few more things I do during the day: I fold that load of laundry. I wipe down the bathtub as I'm setting up for bath time each evening. We're in the bathroom a lot lately since we're potty training, so at some point each day I wipe the counter in there and several times a day I wipe up the toilet or else it would look like it belongs in a frat house. And I vacuum once a week. But do you know what the great thing is about vacuuming? You can't hear the kids whining! I fire it up when Gus is asking to watch TV.

So I share this purely in a spirit of sharing, and not in a "you should do this" kind of way, because what do I know of your life? I like to hear what's working for other people, but lately I've noticed a trend of bloggers who want to position themselves as experts on various things, but hold on...that's a rant for another post. Let's just say that I'm not trying to brag here; just mentioning that I feel like I've gone from bad to sort of okay. And that's a Good Thing. Only I just typoed "God Thing" which is probably more accurate.

Besos, kittens.

My Own Lane

Lately I keep coming back around to this idea of swimming in your own lane.

I know I saw it on a blog somewhere (ETA: this is the post, thanks, Jesse!), and unfortunately I can't remember which one. Sometimes I don't realize that something will stick with me until after it's stuck, and I can't Pin everything (though I do my best).

Samantha French

I have this unproductive back and forth that I do: Sometimes I look at people who have much, much more than me, and I start to take stock of the "inadequacies" in my own life. I think about what life would be like if I had more money, help, energy, creativity, intellect, whateva.

Then--and I can make this transition in a heartbeat--I think about people who have much less, and I feel guilty. And I'm not talking about healthy, thinking about others and giving back feelings, but an anxiety about why I have so much when I'm so undeserving.

So lately when I start to go there, I remind myself to swim in my own lane.

It's a great shorthand for essentially what that gratitude post was about--imagining yourself in other situations keeps you from being grateful for what you have. Oddly, even imagining myself having less keeps me from being grateful. Because all I have is grace, and if I had less, I'd still have grace. And if I had more, I'd have grace AND...SWIM IN YOUR OWN LANE!

See? It works.

Also ETA: A friend suggested carrying a whistle because sometimes you can't hear the coach yelling when you're under water. Brilliant. Do you suppose Tiffany's carries a tiny silver whistle charm? Because how cute would that be...

Frothiness

After a six-month letter writing campaign...

Dear Semblance of a Metabolism,
Please come back to me. Was it something I said?
Muchos besos grandes,
S

...I finally dropped a couple of dress sizes.

This has made getting dressed a little more fun again, and I've been looking for some inspiration. Fashion bloggers kind of crack me up because they're so cute and they can't seem to decide which cute pic of themselves to post, so they post like five full body shots of the same outfit + detail shots.Can't forget the details.

A couple of the ones I started following are:
http://www.puttingmetogether.com/
http://www.kendieveryday.com/
http://www.aintnomomjeans.com/


Any good ones I'm missing?

I promised myself when I was a slip of a girl and had time for such things that I wouldn't let myself get stuck in one decade of fashion. Unfortunately, as I stand here trying to think of an example of something that I wore in college that I would never wear now, I'm at a loss. That seems like a bad sign.

HOLP!

Talented

Most  of the time I have this self-deprecating schtick. And, yeah, that's not going away.

But while I'm usually joking (with the ever present kernel of truth), occasionally I start to fully buy in. And I think it makes others wonder if I'm really that lazy/self-conscious/awkward/depraved/slow/etc.

And I'm not really. Except for the awkwardness. I am every bit as awkward as I say I am.

Lately, though, it strikes me that it is a disservice to myself but more importantly to others if I choose to dwell in the place of the things I fail at rather than using the gifts I do have and being grateful for them. There's this one quote...Oh WAIT...I bet it's on Pinterest in pretty .jpg form...

Yup:

Source: knackstudios.com via Sarah on Pinterest

So here are some things--by the grace of God--that I'm actually pretty good at:
1. I love my kids. They get a surplus of hugs and kisses. I truly want to know who they are. I'm not perfect, but I apologize when I've wronged them.
2. My kids are cute. Genetically, of course, which I was 50% involved with. But I think they are sharp dressers. Who dresses them? Their mama. And not only that, I'm totally frugal about shopping for them. I'm like a consignment/thrift store ninja.
3. I make hot breakfast involving eggs nearly every morning for the whole fam. Yeah, like it's the effin' 1950s or something. I make healthy meals, usually from scratch, nearly every night. It takes a lot of planning and work. I exhaustively research optimal ways of eating and recipes to support my findings.
4. I have really long-term friendships that have matured and evolved over the years, and I enjoy fostering those relationships. I even think I manage to encourage others on occasion.
5. I'm a pretty decent writer. I hate even typing that, but the facts are that a.) I used to earn my living (and it was a decent one) from my writing and b.) I get compliments on my blog from people who have no reason to compliment me. It's hard for me to see beyond my need for improvement, but apparently I'm not too shabby.
6. I share our home with others on a pretty frequent basis. I work hard to make it a pretty, pleasant, neat(ish), and welcoming place.
7. Even though I would naturally be a hermit, I intentionally make time for people in my life and prioritize community.

I don't say any of these things to make you feel bad (if you do) because I guarantee that you are rockin' your own thangs that I struggle with. Maybe you should make your own list. If you need help getting started and I know you personally, I can probably help because...oh!

8. I have a knack for telling people clearly and honestly what their strengths are.

BOOM!

And you're welcome.

On Community

I love big long tables of people...

I'm an expert on developing community, so now I'm going to give you five bolded steps on how to build it with some commentary on each step.

Just kidding!

I, clearly, know very little about how one develops a strong community that is open and honest and supportive.

But I do know one thing: You have to show up.

You have to show up when you're sad. You have to show up when you're glad. You have to show up when you're mad.

You have to show up when some jerk channels Dr. Seuss. It's a bonus when you show up with chocolate mousse.

Captain Obvious reports: You cannot get to know someone who isn't around. And knowing and being known is an essential part of community.

So, step one--show up.

Guess what?

NAILED IT!

I'm a total shower upper most of the time. Wasn't always the case, but I learn, albeit slowly.

Now. Anybody got the next step?