Kryptonite

In which I speak of my Kryptonite.

Life is very busy lately. We were averaging 2-3 medical appointments a week to clear up some recurring issues with my health and Eve's health.

And as any mother of young children knows, there are enough joys and duties to fill one's day without the doctor visits. I'm eager to get these health issues cleared up.

And then, of all things, last week an individual rear-ended us while we were stopped for an ambulance. I have to laugh when I think of the irony in that statement.

In any case, as soon as the truck hit us and I heard the terrible "crunch" sound of cars colliding, I immediately thought, "Ugh. Insurance forms and phone calls." (Is that weird that that was my FIRST thought?)

Eve doesn't remember the collision. If she could remember the day better, she would tell you that she got a lot of gum that day and toys. To be fair, I didn't MEAN to give her an entire pack of gum to eat, but I was talking with the officer and she found it in my purse. Three year olds crack me up with their resourcefulness. The toys were meant for another time but I knew the hours in the emergency room would be better spent if she was distracted.

The point of all this is that my mind is completely full of insurance jargon and feeding the faces of my family  and just living life.

And yet...

...while I take a few minutes to sit down at my computer, my mind goes THERE.

"There" is the evil that my mind goes to when it has no rein of thought. It starts innocently enough. My mind says, "I wonder how so and so is doing..." and then, if uncontrolled, it starts to think of someone who hurt me or someone who is complicated or a negative situation. It's always negative.

I steer my thoughts back to what I WANT it to think, a bit ashamed that my thoughts don't naturally go there. Actually, I'm very ashamed of my negativity. I have so many friends who seem to naturally ooze happiness from their pores; my happiness is baked to my specifications. It's often not there unless I put it there. It's the cross of being an artist, I think: being sensitive often means being negative.

I'm amazed that my full heart would want to dwell on something so small and negative and hurtful. Life is SO much more than that.

There are some situations in life that will never be resolved. If I keep thinking on them, my brain will fry. In order to reboot my mind, I need it to think on other things. Here's what I do:

1. I work on my design work. I take a page from the LionChaser's Manifesto and I "criticize by creating." My current design collection has taken about a year to create and I don't plan on stopping anytime soon. :)

2. I enjoy something new, especially if its artistic.
A new book. A new magazine. New music. I need my mind to see beauty in life.

3. I call a friend and see how their life is. I need to get out of my mind and my problems and think of others.

4. I go ape.
No really... I started making these "ooo-OOOO--OOOO" sounds like a chimp and I chase my three year old. She loves it and I forget what I was thinking about. It's win-win.

At the end of the day, I look to the Bible. It has something to say about my thought life:
"Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."

It's my Kryptonite: negative thoughts.  But it won't be my undoing.

I Love You, I Hate You

Dear Designs,

I love you.

I hate you.

You energize me AND wear me out.

You are my third child.

I need you to hush so that I can appreciate you.

Your needs are being met. Slowly, but still, they're being met.

Don't rush creation.
If you rush, it will show up in harried marks and cliché color combos.

Your colors are chosen.

Your forms are being perfected.

Your destiny remains to be determined.

But that's okay.

Just hush and be.

You're almost there.

-Emily

Easter Joy

During the Christian season of lent, I typically dismiss any type of fasting that many Christians observe. Some of my friends give up their favorite dessert. Some of my friends forsake entertainment.

For me, giving up, say, chocolate would be like giving up oxygen. Plus, it seems like laying down one's desires for sugar doesn't compare to Jesus laying down His very life.

But this lenten season was different.

Our new pastor at church invited us to read chunks of the gospels during this time. It was amazing. I had new eyes. I read stories about Jesus that meant something anew to me.
The way Jesus invited himself over for dinner at a creepy tax-collector's house.
The way He took care of one small, unimportant woman, recognizing her in the crowd, healing her from her flow of blood of 12 years.
And then, the way he spoke the hard truth:
"You must pick up your cross DAILY and follow me."

If there's one thing I've come to realize as a Christ follower, it's that when Jesus speaks a spiritual truth in the gospels and then it stirs in your heart incessantly, that means that God wants you to let it be planted in your life in order for growth to occur.
It also means He wants you to do it right now. Pronto.
Don't look for spiritual places. Grow right now where you are.
In your office cubicle where you report to a prickly boss.
At the restaurant where you work and never seem to find respect.
As a stay at home mother when the fruit you see is not there because it is long term.

It was clear: My "daily cross" was at home. And I knew what it was.

Each day was an exercise in futility. The coffee was never strong enough to overcome my threadbare body and soul. My gym membership only temporarily masked my signs of tiredness. All support figures in my life were unavailable. Each day I was running at a pace which can only be sustained by humans in short sprints, not long marathons. But I didn't know how to get off the cycle.

At the heart of my tiredness was a person. A very special, darling person: my three year old daughter, Eve. She is dimples and smiles and has mastered the art of boundary-line drawing with her very simple and loudly-spoken use of the word "NO". She is a typical three year old.

And yet, somehow, our sweet Eve is in not typical because a cadre of medical people have determined that she is in need of some therapy to help her communicate and accept instructions from other people. She is in "la la" land and refuses to come out.

So, every day, her momma uses all sorts of techniques to try to urge her little girl out of "Eve World" and into the world of the community.
I am filling boxes with things like cups and beans and rice.
I'm making soap water for her to play in.
I'm reading her books.
I'm reading books ABOUT her special behavior.
There's a lot of time-outs and other discipline.
A lot of little girl screams.
A mountain of tantrums.

As hard as it is for a mother to say this, I realized that my precious daughter's behavior had become my cross.

When I think of the cross, I think of death.
Of something so big it crushes you.
I don't think of dimples and pig tails.

So this lenten season, I gave up any regular use of Facebook, the place where I tell all my troubles. I replaced it with Scripture and prayer.

I'd like to tell you that I had some high and holy moments, but the first two weeks were brutal.
I'd read Scripture. I'd weep. I'd smile. I'd meditate on Jesus.
Then Eve would wake up.
"Good morning, honey," followed by 12 hours of, um, "behavior modification."
I wanted to Facebook my frustrations. But no.
Quietness instead. Prayer. And some good, old-fashioned self control.

By week four I wasn't craving Facebook anymore. I loved the quiet place in my mind. I needed quiet. I needed to BE quiet.

The lenten season was a lot of work. A bit of suffering, yes. But mostly a lot of cleansing.

When Easter Sunday arrived, I didn't jump on Facebook right away. I waited. And when I did, my quiet mind could only offer these words "Easter joy."

My difficulties are still present, but so is Jesus.
We can do this.