• So very sorry! Jeremiah wrote this several days ago, and I’ve been procrastinating adding the pictures.

    One of the seemingly harsh realities of growing up has hit me over the last few years. Nobody remembered to warn me about it, so I felt blindsided. I can remember being in school and having that really big test or project that you were dreading. Finally as the day approaches you tell yourself to just keep pushing because soon it will be over and you can relax and have nothing to worry about. I loved that feeling the afternoon after a test in college, when you knew there were days ahead without expectations or responsibility. How about the holidays where you had days and nights of whatever you wanted to do and nobody expecting you to perform or produce anything? I guess I subconsciously assumed this is the way it would always be, but I have since realized that life proves to be more of a continuous challenge, still marked by some big tasks that require endorphins to get you through. However, that post-test sense of ease doesn’t come as easily once you are all grown up.

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    It is similar to the practice of medicine. As a kid you think a person gets hurt or sick and the doctor fixes them up and they get well and forget about it. So when a kid decides to become a surgeon, he thinks, “I can fix people up, patient after patient.” At least I somehow thought that was how it works – you operate on someone and they get better and it’s done. Then I started my training and began to observe what is meant by the term “practice of medicine”. A patient comes in with a problem that needs surgery and they get it. Hopefully, they get well and move on but there are those cases of unfortunate complications – infections, persistent pain, surgical errors etc. This is hard to swallow – I thought you could do your best for a patient and then relax in a job well done, but sometimes the “test” doesn’t end that day. You may follow that patient for years trying to help them but never have that nice “mission accomplished” feeling we grew up with.

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    Medicine is one place I see this but only a small part of it. I think raising kids may be the better example. I have seen that women don’t usually get to get up in the morning, perform a task well, and then immediately see the results. They don’t get to climb the mountain of tasks and then sit back and bask in the break from responsibility. Instead, they work daily, making investments of time and effort that will hopefully be successful in their children. The work doesn’t really ever stop – always a kid who is sick, hungry, misbehaving, needing questions answered, and nightly baths and stories. So as parents, it seems impossible to get that reprieve we used to know. Maybe we could leave the kids with the grandparents a couple times a year but nobody wants to spend their lives desperately waiting to get away from that feeling of responsibility – we would be unhappy or bitter 90% of the time.

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    I think there is a way out of this. We can live a very safe life and keep our responsibility to a bare minimun. Keep ourself protected from expectations and relationships and keep that wonderful feeling void of responsibility we knew growing up. To me, this is not appealling but I have seen some people living that way. Since I don’t want that kind of life, I have had to ask myself where to go from here. The problem is that the more responsibility you allow yourself, the more potential anxiety. You could handle it growing up because whatever task you had to complete was always followed with that period of reprieve. With every new responsibility comes a potential risk. For parents – will the kids turn out the way you hope, or for leadership – will you let people down that are counting on you, or for any challenge – how will this turn out? So what do you do with that potential anxiety because the challenges keep coming and the breaks don’t?

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    Lately, we have been studying Luke with a group of friends here in Seattle. Much of Luke talks about anxiety. There are a few applications here. Jesus repeatedly emphasizes that he does not want us to be anxious. So what do we do with all this responsibility? If we know we are supposed to cast our cares on Him, how can we practice this? I think what we have to do is be Aware but not Anxious. No we shouldn’t ignore the risks and responsibilities that we face by the lives we have chosen. However, I think the danger is on focusing on those things instead of what we are trying to do. So what if we could learn to be aware of those risks but not experience any anxiety because we don’t focus on them? I think we have a choice to be Worriers or Warriors. May sound cliche, I know but I can’t get this out of my mind and though Webster may not agree, I think they are perfect antonyms. In Luke, Jesus asks a question about which of us, before going to build a tower, doesn’t first stop to consider the cost and if it can be completed. Obviously, there is a place for measuring the cost of each responsibility but that is where you become a worrier or a warrior. I think a warrior stops and kisses his family before going to battle. They cry together at the thought of possibly not seeing each other again and then he turns his horse and rides full speed and doesn’t look back. The worrier considers the cost, rides a few feet and stops to reconsider and then rides a little further and then stops again to reconsider the costs and risks and eventually is anxious and paralyzed by anxiety and fear of the responsibility. It would be better to either ride back home and relax or to ride on into battle; but to stay in the middle world of the worrier would be miserable for anyone.

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    So the point is that we can’t reasonably get away from responsibility and we really probably don’t want to. The pertinent thing is how we deal with it. We have to learn how to enjoy life and enjoy our responsibilities, being aware of them but not anxious about their cost or outcome. Then I hope that we won’t spend our lives living for that carefree post-test feeling. Instead, maybe we can learn to enjoy our responsibilities because of how we approach them as aware warriors instead of anxious worriers….



  • Just look at the winter wonderland we awoke to find this morning!
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    Can you see the Space Needle peeking through the storm?
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    The girls preschool was not cancelled, so I got to brave our STEEP hills covered with snow. I was talking to the girls about leaving their seatbelts securely fastened, because Mommy had never driven in snow before…As I cranked the car, guess what came blasting through my speakers, “Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow!” It took my nerves away :), and made the drive to school feel more like a sleigh ride.
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    Thanks, Aunt Taylor for our Sou’Westers. Since they came from England, Mommy thinks they are the coolest things ever. And she just realized they are on backwards… 😉 They were perfect for our first snowy day (and Dapples refused to take hers off once she got to school). Be back soon with a more substantial post (or maybe Jeremiah, I’m trying to get him to come back this week).


  • …But I can’t remember when.

    Today we’re going to talk about Pace. My first-born, my right-hand lady, my truth-seeker, my tender-heart. At her current stage, she can be hard to spend long periods of time with. It’s not that we don’t get along, and it’s not that I don’t firmly believe we have a beautiful lifetime friendship spreading out before us. It’s that right now she is burdened by questions…and I get to field 95% of them. They aren’t just questions that leave me wishing I’d saved my eighth grade science book (although there are plenty of those); they’re questions about intricate heart matters–that I often cannot answer (Like, “When is God going to give me a perfect body and take me up in the sky?” Guess they’re studying Revelation in Sunday school??). She hates the, “I don’t know,” response and usually comes back at me with, “Ugghhh, Mom, we are just not understanding each other right now.” Well no, FIVE-YEAR-OLD, I guess we’re not. I guess you’re just talking right over my head. It’s humbling and maddening at the same time.
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    Because of this daily diatribe, I have vowed to answer any question I can truthfully and to the best of my ability (As long as I’m not having a “Mommy cannot take ANY MORE questions right now. No, don’t even ask if you can have more milk. That’s a question.” I hit that wall at least once a day; let’s keep it real.). So recently, Pace has started asking me what different meats we eat are made of. Like the ham sandwich I pack in her lunch every day–“Mom, what’s ham made out of?” “Pig.” Yes! That was an easy one. “Mom, is an egg really a baby chicken?” I’m gonna tell you that answer got a bit more complicated–trying to be truthful (it is an egg and not a baby, right?) without launching into the birds and the bees at five.
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    Anywho, this had been going on for a couple of days when I went to pick her up from school and her teacher pulled me to the side and said, “I thought you should know that Pace is refusing to eat her sandwiches any more because they are made of pig.” “What??!!!” My first thought was, “Dadgum Seattlites and their diets! What kid is turning my child into a vegetarian?” After questioning her, however, I discovered that the only dadgum Seattlite turning Pace into a vegetarian is…me.
    She very innocently and tearfully explained to me that she did not know anyone else who didn’t eat meat, but she never wanted to eat it again. She said that she loves all animals and can’t bear the thought of eating one ever again. When told to eat her dinner that her mother made her, she had a gag reflex trying take down her baked chicken and apologized to me for not being able to eat it. When I explained that God gave us animals so that we could eat them–that eating meat is what makes her strong, she asked if God wanted people to eat Locks too.
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    Out of nowhere, my deer hunting, meat-loving, “It’s not dinner if there’s not meat on my plate” family had created a true convicted vegetarian–who has never even heard that word spoken. I’m sure stranger things have happened…but I can’t remember when.
    What Jeremiah and I have come to, I think, is that she is not old enough to make a decision like that for herself. However, the fact that she is so sweet-spirited and apologetic about the whole mess makes us want to work with her when we can. I’ve started making hummus roll-ups for her lunches instead of ham sandwiches, and if she wants the black bean and corn quesadilla at the Mexican restaurant instead of chicken, it’s ok. When we have dinner at home as a family, she has to eat some of everything I cook–just like always.
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    How about I leave you with one last strange happening with Pace? Jeremiah and I came home from a date last weekend and our babysitter said, “I don’t know if this will be an issue, but I just thought you should know… I was putting the girls to bed and Pace got really upset when I would not say prayers with her. I tried to explain that different people have different bedtime rituals, and I brush my teeth–just like her–but I don’t say prayers. She then said, ‘You mean you don’t know JESUS?!'”
    Try fielding that one from a career nanny with good references that you hired….Aggghhh!
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    [These pictures are of the girls riding the new bicycles they got for their birthdays. They saved up chore and birthday money and bought them with their own little stash (Thank you family for the money gifts!). It was a sweet day and Pace still goes in the garage on the days she can’t ride “just to look at it for a little while.”]