The Discovery of Rohan

Today marks the day I was craving a Georgia Mud Fudge blizzard from Dairy Queen. After the past three years of becoming quite ill after any milk or ice cream consumption, I always avoided these old favorites. But this day was different.

As we were talking about the relaxing time we had in Maplewood State Park with my sister and her husband that weekend, Tyler commented that I slept a lot…maybe too much. I was a tad insulted. I worked full-time too and commuted to Fargo each day, not to mention I carted around a three month old everywhere I went. I had the RIGHT to be tired. Then he said something rather silly, “It’s like you’re pregnant or something.”

That was absurd, I thought. There was no way! I told him there was not a chance that I was pregnant and that being outdoors, next to a lake, just does that to me.

We got home and we hauled all the camping stuff inside. Unpacking ALMOST makes me despise camping. Before I started the cleaning up routine I thought I should just check. Just check to see if I really was pregnant to prove my point. Like the nurse with Tosten told me often, “stranger things have happened!”and I had about a billion extra tests…who would it hurt?

While Tyler was lugging the remaining things in, I went to the bathroom and… WHAT? I WAS PREGNANT?

A million things raced in my mind, bouncing like flubber or bouncy balls in my brain. Yes, Tosten was so young. Yes, I just started to slow down my breastfeeding. Yes, I haven’t had a period. Yes, we had no help to get pregnant and had not even been trying or thinking of trying.

I walked into Tyler’s office. He was, of course being the organized and the responsible one, recording all our weekend expenses in the checkbook and I stood before him silently. Finally I blurted out, “Tyler, we’re pregnant…again.”

He turned around. Looked at me. Nothing. I said, “Aren’t you going to say anything? Aren’t you excited?”

He replied, “Of course I’m excited, but…” and didn’t finish this thought.

I brought Tosten in and and handed him to Tyler with a smile. Tyler wrapped his arms around him and said, “So you’re gonna be a big brother!” I saw a little misting in Tyler’s eyes and my spirit soared.

Joy was oozing out of my every pore. Another baby. Another child. Tosten was not going to be an only child.

Can I sit here tonight with you and reminisce of the joy it was to have conceived and discovered and to have fallen in love IMMEDIATELY with my little Rohan. Even though she’s not here in my arms right now. I want to celebrate her without mourning her.

The Decision

I went home today. All of my dad’s tractors and trucks and his combine were parked on the lawn as a couple of his friends were putting a new steel roof on his machinery shed. This is a bit unlike my dad. He is one of those obsessive, tidy farmers and everything is always put away or in its place, or at least as much as he can accomplish being a lone farmer of his farm. But the roof has been in need of repair for years, so everything came out.

Of course Tosten was bewildered…a toddler boy’s fantasy! His new favorites have been anything with wheels, and that definitely includes both daddy’s toy Case tractors and his mama’s toy John Deeres. You could tell he was excited. His eyes widened and his steps quickened as he raced to each contraption parked.

A piece of me came alive too. I remember being that awe-struck by my dad’s “toys” and by his ability to work these massive machines. My way of playing with them was a tad different, however. I would spend hours being a gymnast on his tractors or a tight-rope walker on his combine. I remember doing flips and putting on shows on the augers with my sister and riding bike in his shed (it was the only concrete on the farm to ride bike on) around vehicles he was repairing. I remember being amazed at the parade of machinery rolling down the driveway every late harvest night and the strong puffs of exhaust filling the air. I remember all the wonder of the farm life…and I loved it…I missed it…a part of me had forgotten.

Going back today awakened something in me. It’s not like I’ve been gone from home for years or that I have been so far removed from the farm or country life that I have misplaced all I loved about it, but my heart was right to receive something this time. A little gift of some sort. A realization and maybe some answers I had been searching for. Something broke open as I walked from the house to the newly roofed shed. I thought to myself, This is what life is about. Simple. Uncomplicated. Beautiful. Alive and real. I am content here.

Stresses about trying to pay bills, buying groceries, commitments to other people, and even the delivery of this new baby seemed so trivial. I was at peace and everything seemed right. Everything seemed clear.

I guess that’s what the country does to you. There’s no room for over-complication of life. The robins seem unworried about their next meal and the oaks continue to grow no matter how the clouds glare. It is simple. It is beautiful in the raw, honest meaning of the word. Granted, the farmer would say it’s never been easy to live off the land, but I know my daddy wouldn’t trade it in for a million dollars and a huge piece of real estate in town.

I know that same heart my daddy has beats in Tyler. He is fully farm boy. It still is his dream to farm someday and it crushes my spirit that he can’t have that…at least for now. It breaks me even more to know the farming lineage for him and for me both stop with us. A part of me still prays that Tyler will be able to live his dream, even if it is a smaller version of it. I even hope Tosten Lee will fall in love with the land as much as his daddy and his grandpa have. They say you’re born with it, and from what I see of my little boy, he’d rather be outdoors, digging in the dirt for rocks or corn cobs than to be anywhere else…that gives me hope.

It’s easy to get lost in the stampede of life. Our society has lost the honest beauty of what it means to live, and I can see the slow fade of the same in my own self.

It’s a choice. Everyday. Life moves on and each individual must decide how to view their existence. Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen my dad not smile a day in my life. He’s been helping on the farm from age three with all its changes, ups and downs, and even almost losing his own farm twice…yet, he’s always has a grin with a forever optimism in his stride.

Each day I must decide how to live out my life. Do I let the mundaness and sometimes brokenness of this world dictate my joy and complicate my existence? Or do I waltz through my day with delight, simplicity, and the appreciation that I have the ability to accomplish things?

I don’t know. All I know is that going home was the best thing I could have done today. Not sure what made it so different, but I’m glad Tosten got to see his grandpa in his finest…I’m glad I got to see my dad at his finest too. Maybe that’s all we needed to see, someone who made the right decision for that day. Someone that has made the right decision every day.

Too Much Pink

I’m painting pink. Our office walls are pink and the letter A of our daughter’s name is pink, drying so I can hang it on baby girl’s new room wall.

I hate pink. I loathe pink. I would pick any other color in the universe before I’d wear pink, before I’d work with pink, before I’d paint with pink.

Well, so much for that. Pink is now the color of choice. My eye has slowly been drawn to fuchsia and magenta and my hands have been reaching for those once hideous light pink outfits with butterflies and ladybugs.

Hormones? Yeah, probably. But more than hormones, dreams of a little Manda painting her nails teal and wanting to try mama’s eye shadow, though I guess I don’t ever wear any. High hopes of tea parties and Barbie pool parties outside and maybe some creatively decorated tree houses. Dreams of Tosten and Daddy hunting or cutting trees and Olivea and I shopping or redecorating a little craft space of the house for us.

Yes. I’m excited to have a little girl. It won’t be as rosy pink as my mind invents, but I’m still excited.

But just as I’m anticipating all the fun and joy a mother and daughter can share, I realize this little girl will become a woman. A woman that will search for her value and her identity and her worth in a world that has all the wrong answers.

My mother is an amazing mom. She was supportive and constantly encouraging, but like every woman, she had her insecurities. She had (and continues to have) those “demons” that tell her how insignificant and unimportant she is. This complete picture of her has only become clearer as I have aged and have seen life in a less pleasant view. I see her bravery and strength and I am only proud to say I am a product of her life…she has never had it easy.

But as the world becomes more wicked every moment, I too struggle with what the truth is. I KNOW the truth. I have it inside and I hear His voice of affirmation and love everyday, but sometimes the world can be so alluring and can have quite the case for identity.

Thinner is best. Beauty is what matters for a woman. What kills me most is the idea that women are objects. When I say it blatantly like that, everyone easily disagrees, but when I see modesty thrown out the window and the fads and ads and the TV programs we watch on a regular basis, I know we are slowly fading into this ideology.

I have become so increasingly sensitive that I purposely avoid any movie, TV show,even locations and people that reflect this. It damages me. It slices something so deep that I just cannot bear it anymore. I think sometimes Tyler thinks I have gone overboard, but in my heart and my mind, I feel this right…this is safe. Women are not objects and should never be looked upon, treated as, or thought as being objects.

I have grown weary of the measure of a woman being in her size, her appearance, her sensual clothing. This has stolen my joy at times because I have not measured up, just as I remember seeing it steal my mother’s joy in her vulnerable moments (when she thought I didn’t notice).

I.
Don’t.
Want.
This.
For.
Olivea.
Or any of my daughters. So I must be the chain-breaker. I must DARE to be overboard in my idealogies and not even flutter my eyelashes in the way of the world’s measure of a woman.

Having a daughter is so much more than all the warm amd fuzzy feelings of bonding, but I’m raising a woman. A woman that will face a world that will be even more airbrushed and sensual. A woman in a world that has lost her voice to the obsession of sex and alluring men.

So I must face my own insecurities in this world. I must wrestle with the lies I know are lies, but are so convincing that I still somehow believe they are true.

I must dare to be brave and bold and zealous in my identity as a woman in Christ.

I must deafen my ears to the world and my own inherited “demons.”

I must do all these things because I have a little girl that is going to watch me in all I do. She will absorb what I absorb and believe what I believe.

So Lord, I need you more than ever. Raising this baby girl is such a gift, but it only forces me to stare my fears down and insecurities right in the face for the sake of future generations. May I be the chain-breaker. May I be the difference in a world of women that have sold themselves for evil and mediocrity. Lord, help me to find my real self in you. Lord, help my daughters and my sons to find their real selves in you. I rest in your truth and your love and your grace.

The Killers

When I am home alone with Tosten so often, I have a tendency to think. Thinking can be good, but it can lead all different directions, whether good or bad. I have never noticed my thinking patterns as much as I have lately, and what’s worse, how pitifully immature my thinking patterns can be.

Resentment. I have resentment buried deep inside. I think it has always been an issue, but I never had TIME to dwell on it. It would come and go and something would happen at work and it would quickly fizzle, but I have been finding it deep within and so rooted in some areas that I sob to get rid of it.

Resentment is not pleasant. When rooted deep and in anger, it poisons and destroys and kills the victim. It can go unnoticed or hidden for a long time, but while life carries on with its mundaness, it festers and spoils anything that was once good.

With resentment comes pride. Pride that says I DESERVE this. Envy that says I WANT that. Jealousy that says IT’S NOT FAIR. The more I hear those voices, the more I beg for release.

Our society strives on these emotions. To some, these are healthy and right emotions to have when competing with your peers. But yet again, there’s the other disgusting culprit…competition. Yes, competition can be great and wonderful, but it can become all-consuming and again, a destroyer of relationships and people.

It was the weekend of the fourth of July and I just woke up from a vivid dream with an individual that I had resentment towards for a long time. I had no reason to have it, but just because of all the deadening emotions listed above I thought it right to pass my own judgement on her. Somehow something shifted in my heart. I don’t recall anything that happened in my dreamland, but I woke up with a concern for her and prayed. For the first time, I felt I could breathe a little.

See, the only person resentment destroys is yourself. Competition. Jealousy. Envy. Pride. It only kills you and shackles you to mediocrity.

So as I sat that whole weekend in my newfound freedom, I started to search my heart even more. God, where else is there deadness? Who else am I shutting out because of my pride?

It wasn’t long and there was yet another list. This one even sorer and more painful than the last. What was different about this one was that I felt I HAD THE RIGHT to resent these people.

I prayed. I wailed. Even though I tried to mutter the words of healing and freedom, my heart wasn’t completely convinced. I did what many Christians do and just prayed a wordy prayer that meant nothing to me…just words with an unwilling heart.

As I continued to think about my stubbornness last week and pondered what would really happen if I just let it be and swept it under the rug, a very odd thought came to my mind.

I’m still not sure if it was a thought or a voice, but it definitely didn’t come from my treacherous heart or state of mind.

A list of my resented individuals scrolled through my mind and in that moment I realized, I was older than all of them.

You wonder what the point of that was? To me, everything. It. Meant. Everything.

It became so blatant at that moment that I was NEVER meant to be jealous or envious of these people. I was NEVER meant to resent these individuals in my life, but I was meant to be an example. They were put in my life as to merely love on and rally them for the cause of Jesus.

(I should say these truths are true whether people are younger or older or the exact same age as you, but for some reason, the fact that they were younger was the eye-opener for me.)

I was not to be some pious, godly saint that did and does no wrong, but to love, support, CHEER them on in whatever direction Christ was leading them.

If the devil could distract me enough and fill my heart with resentment so deep, and for reasons that even I could not understand, then he could deprive me of freedom in Christ and serving Jesus in this way. If Satan fogged my eyes enough, he could deprive even more of God’s children from encouragement that maybe I was meant to give and the love I was meant to pass down.

I’m ashamed. Even now there is a release as I pour this out to be read and to point my finger right at Satan and right at my dirty humanness. But the freedom is so intoxicating, I can’t bear to shut it in. The shackles off my heart and mind are a crazy good feeling…I cannot even summarize it in words.

OH Light, how glorious you are. Jesus, how gracious you are. Satan, how damned you are. Me, how free I AM. Sigh.

So I will continue to think. Yes, I will even dare to “think too much.” Sometimes beautiful things can result.