"He hath made everything beautiful in His time"

I've been reading the book It's All Too Much the last few weeks. It wasn't one I'd pick out for myself, but we're reading it for book club - it's all about organizing your home/life and figuring out why we keep the things we do, our relationship to the stuff we own, excuses for holding onto things, etc. I kind of dreaded starting it, mostly because I knew it would make me feel guilty for all the stuff (crap) in our house (tiny apartment), and organizing and throwing things away is always not just physically exhausting, but emotionally as well.

And that's exactly what happened. I read the excuses, checked them off one by one, said, "Yep, yep, yep...yep, that's me, too." Thus began the journey of organizing my home. I threw out bags and bags of clothes I haven't worn in months (but kept the fat clothes because eventually there will be more kids), I thew out boring baby toys and packed up ones Axton is "too old" for now, I sorted through the closets, under the bed, and the nightstand. I did it all without a second thought.....

Until I hit the bookshelves.

What is it about paper that I find so hard to throw away? I had books on my shelves I've read and didn't really like and therefore would never read again. I had books I'd been saving to read for years, and still haven't touched. I had books full of quotes and "words of wisdom" - and really, when would I sit down to read 100 pages of 1,000 quotes from different people? Um, never. I had my college anthologies, highlighted and thick with my handwritten notes. Oh they were beautiful.

Even worse to confront was the three-foot-wide stack of papers full of words that I wrote. I found the first paper I ever wrote for Brother Williams, which was also the first paper I'd ever written for an "English Major Class," which was the class that became the determining factor in me becoming an English Major. What I'm trying to say was, that paper was important to me. It had been returned to me covered in his green ink and cryptic editing symbols, the most hashed-up paper I'd ever received up to that point. But then at the end, he'd written the words: Your work is very promising. That's when it hit me: my college destiny, if you will, was to be an English Major. To take as many classes from this crazy-Nazi teacher as I could, and to show him that he was right about me, about my writing. I took every class he offered, and prided myself in each and every A he gave me (while peers would gush over a B from him, saying, "Getting a B from Ned is like getting an A in a 'normal' class). I couldn't throw away a single paper I wrote for him.

(The papers I kept)

The rest, I tossed into a bin to be taken to recycling.

(The papers I tossed)

Then I cried.

And I mean, cried. It was not just a few tears streaming down my face; it was full-on, shoulders-shaking-making-strange-gasping-noises-sobbing. I looked at that pile of papers and the hours of work it represented.  I saw the person I was during that time of my life - the freedom and the joy and the pride and accomplishments and compliments I received from it. I cried because it was over, and I would never again be that person and throwing away those papers proved it. I LOVED college. I was good at college - I was excellent at college. I could have gone on to get my graduates degree and my doctoral degree. I had the connections, I had the brains......and now what was I? A stay-at-home mom with mushy brains who hadn't accomplished anything important since December 2010. I had thrown it all away because I was scared and because being a mom was "easier," and now that he was here I would never get the opportunity back.

At least, those were my thoughts, and those were my tears. And yes, I realize I was throwing a pity party for myself. (And then Axton came over and put a green frisbee on my head and laughed and laughed and so I had to laugh a little bit too).

That night I sat down and typed out an email to that Ned Williams, wondering if he would even remember me. I was embarrassed with my sentimentality, my nostalgia; I also found myself embarrassed to tell him that "all" I'd done since graduating was move to Maryland, take a trip to Europe, have a baby, and continue to pursue photography. I thanked him for making me a better writer and student, told him I thoroughly regretted not doing the teaching internship while I had the chance. Then I said Mahalo for the first time in two years and signed off, not expecting a reply.

But, two days later, I received an email for Dr. Ned Williams. His words did my heart some good:

I have wondered what has become of you since you left Laie ...   Now I read that you have been wise in choosing motherhood, European travel, and photography during this season of your life.  Thoreau urges us to "make sure your footsteps are always pointed into the direction of your dreams."  Sounds like your post-Laie path would impress Thoreau. 

Do you see what I first saw when I read those words? During this season of your life. 

Those words soared into my soul: This is the season I am in now, Meghan. This is who you are, and it's okay. You had a season of college, you had a season of travel, and now you are in the season of Motherhood. 

Seasons, seasons, seasons. After I read that, now I see it's being whispered everywhere around me. I read a comment someone left on a blog that read: "Life is about Seasons." Another blog said: "I will allow myself to believe that there is a season for everything, and that opportunities and 'success' will come in time."

And then, of course, the scripture in Ecclesiastes that I had never really read until now:

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die .... A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance ... A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; ... A time to keep silence, and a time to speak....

He hath made everything beautiful in His time"

I think it's starting to sink in now. I was chatting with another photographer on Facebook the other day and I found myself telling her:

I also had to come to terms with the fact that, a lot of the photographers I tend to compare myself to, photography is their full time job. They either don't have kids or put their kids in daycare. I had to learn to be okay with the fact that I'm just not at a point in my life right now where photography can be a full time thing - it can only be a part time hobby. Right now I'm needed for a greater calling so I sometimes have to put photography on the back burner (and remind myself that one day they will be out of the house or in school and I will miss these days...right?  )

I think I was dreading organizing those papers because I knew that by throwing some of them away, I'd really be saying good bye to that season of my life. I had a good cry when I did it, and now I can move on. I'm happy to be in the season of life that I'm in now, and I honestly would not go back to any past "season" of my life if given the opportunity - because they are seasons for a reason! We need certain people, places, circumstances in our lives for different times. Change is good. Change is growth. Everything really is made beautiful in His time - and right now, my time is to be a mother. And it is gloriously beautiful. 

Joy to come

Not sleeping much is hard on the body. It's even harder on the mind.

Every night as I climb into bed, I have a moment of insanity where I allow myself to think, "What if tonight's the night? What if, by some crazy chance, he just miraculously starts sleeping through the night? I'll fall asleep now, la la la, and when I awaken, I'll stretch and yawn and say, My that felt good! And I'll look at the clock and - whatdya know?! - it will be 7am."

I think that same exact thought every single night. Sometimes I say it out loud to Adam and he'll laugh and say, "Yep. That'd be awesome."

And, every single night, I hear him cry within 30 minutes of that thought. I sigh, my wish dashed to pieces. And then I hear him cry again a few hours later. And again a few hours after that.
"Nope," I think. "Didn't happen tonight....oh well, what else can I do but just keep pushing forward?" So I groggily get out of bed and take care of my far-too-happy-for-morning baby, his gummy, open smile just daring me not to smile back at him. I always do, and, for the moment, my tiredness is forgotten. If I can, I'll take a morning nap with him. If not, I just zombie my way through the day, until night comes again.

Just like I thought my body would be completely healed by 6 weeks, I thought I'd be sleeping by 6 months. Neither of them happened, and the only solution I've found is time.

I was talking to someone else in a similar situation with their baby. She said something along the lines of: "It's like morning sickness all over again. I'm just waiting for it to pass. I wish I was enjoying this time more but it's hard."

She's right; it is really hard. Every age and stage comes with it's own joys and challenges, and it doesn't really get easier (well, it does get easier than the first 4 weeks with a newborn. Nothing is quite like that) but it just gets different.

Awhile ago, a friend shared this article with me. It's written by a mom of three (four?) kids, and she starts the article off by talking about the little old ladies at the store who always tell us Moms to enjoy every minute of this time, because it just goes by so fast! The author writes that thinking that way just gives her anxiety, it makes her feel like maybe she's doing something wrong if she's not enjoying every second of parenthood. Instead, she likes to cherish her Kairos moments.

She says there are two different types of time: Chronos, which is the time we live in, "the hard, slow passing time we parents often live in." Then there is Kairos time, the metaphysical time outside of this world...it's God's time - "Those magical moments where time stands still." These are the moments she cherishes.

I loved this article because, it's true, people expect Moms to be happy 100% of the time, to live in each moment, to soak up every memory. Well, the truth is, I don't want to remember every second of Axton's life. I don't want to remember the hours he's screamed, the tears he's shed, the tears I've shed, the countless hours of sleep lost to the night. I don't think it's fair that I'm expected to enjoy the hard stuff. Sure, I'll get through the hard stuff, but don't expect me to like it.

An older gentlemen asked me how parenthood was treating me - he asked what everyone else expects to be true: "Are you just loving every minute?" I was honest with him, because I have that type of relationship with him.

"You know," I said, "I don't love every minute." He raised his eyebrows at me and I continued,  "I absolutely, one-hundred percent, with every fiber of my being, LOVE the many, many lovable things about parenting." I paused, letting that soak in. I shrugged my shoulders and looked right in his eyes, "And I don't the things that aren't." He pressed his lips together and nodded his head slowly. "I think that's fair," I said, and he agreed.

There is nothing in this universe that will ever compare to being a parent, and I cherish the opportunity I have to be one. I often reflect on Chronos and Kairos, and if I've been living in too much Chronos time, then I try to stop everything and really look at my son (this typically happens when he's sleeping). Kairos balances things out for me.

Today I had a Kairos moment - one that seemed a little more sacred than normal. In fact, it wasn't just that I was living in Kairos time, God's time, I was actually hearing God' voice. I was rocking Axton to sleep for his nap, and I had just started singing Silent Night. I ran my fingers over his nose and cheeks and stared into his eyes, and my mind drifted to a time in the future - a time when Axton would be singing Silent Night to me. Perhaps it was a school concert, and his dad and I were in the audience. We, of course, were so proud of him, the goofy blonde-haired boy singing up on stage. Thinking about Axton as an elementary-aged boy......Right then, I got so emotional I had to stop singing. And that's when I heard a voice in my mind telling me, "There is so much more joy to come from him. Be patient with him right now, you will see."

I needed to hear that, and God knew I did. He knows I am tired, He knows I am trying to do my best. Axton already brings us so much joy, and I needed the reminder that the joy I feel now will only continue to grow as he does. He will bring so much more light and love into my life than I could ever have thought possible - so I just need to be patient through these sacrifices I'm making now. They are small and insignificant compared to the happiness he does and will bring to me.

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas...

Here is our list of movies to watch before Christmas:

Grinch

Polar Express

Muppet Christmas Carol

Elf

Serendipity

Santa Clause

Miracle on 34th St

Mrs. Doubtfire
White Christmas
Family Man
Christmas Vacation
It's a Wonderful Life

If you think of anymore good ones, let us know! We are using our free Netflix trial during the week of Christmas so we are COVERED.

I have decided to change my major (again) (at least I'm staying in the general subject area) from English Education to English. This was such an easy switch that now I can graduate in one year!!!!!! When I put it down on paper, I couldn't believe how fast it was going to happen, and how possible it was. This means Adam and I will be graduating at the same time: December 17th, 2010. So mark your calendars if you want to come watch us! I am so excited about my switch...I was not looking forward to all of those education classes and don't even get me started on the application process or the politics of education! I feel so good about this decision.

Last week as I was getting ready for church, I asked Adam, "Is it bad that I don't really feel like going to church? And not because I don't want to learn about God, but..." and he said he had been feeling the same way lately. We both determined it was because we still felt like we weren't fully "accepted" into our ward. It was difficult to make new friends when the "cliques" were already settled. It was hard for us to separate during Relief Society and Priesthood because we were eachother's only friends at church! We decided to pray about together, and ask for our ward members to take us under their wings and fellowship us as new friends!We were our scriptures together last night in Jacob 3:1. It says,

"Look unto God with firmness of mind, and ^apray unto him with exceeding faith, and he will ^bconsole you in your ^cafflictions"

As I thought about the past week, I realized the Lord had done just that. He consoled us, as well as answered our prayers! We had been invited, and gone to, a family's house from our ward to watch a soccer game, socialize, and eat good food. Another member had invited us to "stop by anytime" to visit them, and yet another couple had invited us over for a Thanksgiving dinner if we hadn't already had plans. I was so grateful that the Lord had answered our prayers so promptly, and also grateful for reading that scripture so I could recognize it too.