Widow’s Mite

This last week my camera broke. Sure, we’ve had it since before Silje was born, which in this digital age makes it prehistoric. Still, I’ve been saving up to get a good used digital DSLR camera, and had not finished saving yet. I spent some time wondering if I should spend the money I’ve saved up so far for a camera that I didn’t want, but would get me by, or…I don’t know. I’ve been saving the money I’ve made from Nerdy Gerdy and I’ve been bound and determined, since it is a “toy” to use this extra money to get something I’ve wanted, and not dip into our savings for it.

Still, when it rains it pours. First, we recently had to get our well fixed, and then we went on our trip which ended up costing more than we had anticipated, and then we got a new freezer. Did I mention our new freezer? With our bumper crop in our vegi garden this year, we finally decided to do what we’ve been talking about doing for a few years and bought an extra freezer for our cellar downstairs. This one is an upright that we got as a scratch and dent. It exciting to get something that will make my life so much easier and allow me to once again buy things in bulk when they’re cheap (which was getting tight with no more space in our chest freezer). Still, Knut and I were a bit depressed to be buying something so “adult” and “responsible” when if we had a say in it, I would have bought my DSLR, and he would have bought new ski boots.

At any rate, it’s no time to just go out and spend money on a camera that is way more than we “need” but something I’ve been wanting since I took a photography course in high school. Fortunately, one of my good friends has offered me the use of her camera that she replaced awhile ago but still works fine. When I get it from her, you’ll see all sorts of pictures again. Until then, bare with my rambling.

All that was a disclaimer to my picture-less post. Man, I’m long winded. How can I have 51 followers who put up with this?

This last weekend we did the traditional camp out at the lake cabin to say farewell to summer. Many of Knut’s cousins and aunts and uncles were there, along with parents and grandparents. We pitched a tent outside the very full cabin to sleep in, and sang the favorite campfire songs that they all amazingly know every verse to! (You know, like the one about the hair on the flea on the wing on the fly on the wart on the frog on the bump on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea?) We had s’mores and stayed up late.

I was a bit nervous about sleeping outside since it was supposed to be cold, and I’ve had a bit of a cough with this bit of weather change that seems to have hit us. I just didn’t want it to push me over the edge to full blown “sick” but Knut certainly couldn’t camp out alone with all the kids, and I wasn’t about to cancel the sleep-out over a little cough.

The tent held 2 queen sized air mattresses. Knut and I shared one, Silje and David shared the other, and Elias was in his pack ‘n’ play at the foot of Silje and David’s bed. He finally crashed before we got to the s’mores, poor thing, and was so over-stimulated from the day. When we got the older kids dressed and tucked in, Knut and I settled in as well, and then it hit me. The inevitable pregnancy heartburn.

I’ve only had heartburn with the boys and no hint of it yet with this one. I lay there trying to figure out what to do. I didn’t bring my Tums. I didn’t bring extra pillows to prop up my upper body for sleeping. Was there a bottle of Tums in the car? I asked myself. Hmmm…

Well, at any rate, even moving the zipper to the tent an inch would wake up Elias again, so I just lay there and stayed put. I don’t know how long it took me to fall asleep, but it was well over an hour. It felt more like two. Then my cough came along with it, which didn’t hurt my throat nearly as much as it did my stretched out tummy muscles that didn’t like to contract for my coughing very much. I tried to refrain my mind from going to that thought… “How did I ever let Knut talk me into this? This is crazy!”

It was about 3:30am when Silje woke up saying she had to go to the bathroom. Sigh. Knut got up, unzipped the tent (which woke Elias) and escorted her to the bathroom. I picked up Elias and hunched over changed his diaper in the pitch black on top of our air bed as it felt full. I rocked him in my arms for a minute, and then laid him back down when Silje was back in bed and run off to the bathroom myself. You know, since I’m already up. Uff da, now that I’m awake I feel my heartburn again. When everyone is back in bed, the tent gets zipped up again, and everyone is back asleep.

15 minutes goes by. Elias starts crying again.

This time I don’t get out of my warm sleeping bag, but just gently shush him, and tell him that Mommy is right here. After about a minute, he falls asleep again.

10 minutes goes by. He starts crying again.

Again, I don’t want to get up, I shush him and talk to him some more, only a foot from his bed.

This happens again, and again. I don’t know how many times. He had this way of timing it to just when I thought there was hope of falling asleep again, he would start crying again.

Thinking of the tents surrounding us outside, and all those poor relatives who were also trying to get a good night’s sleep, (and of course myself) I pull him out of the pack ‘n’ play and bring him to my sleeping bag. This means I can’t sleep with my extra pillow that supports my belly and I have to hold him in not the most comfortable of positions. However, after a minute, he quiets down, and falls asleep in my arms.

I try not to cough. For 2 reasons: I don’t want to wake him up again, and it makes my stomach hurt like nothing else. Still, I have a sleeping cuddly baby in my bed. Heartburn, discomfort, coughing and all…my little baby is in my arms…asleep.

It’s those little moments that I treasure. Motherhood is certainly not a life of comfort, but my heart is constantly overflowing. I want to take joy in every second.

There have been many many times from the very beginning, when Silje was born, even further than that, when I was pregnant with Silje, when I just told God “I have nothing left to give.” It’s those times when you’re sick and no one fills in for you. When you’re pregnant and are so hungry and weak but can’t keep food down. When you’re in labor and do not wish to give any more pushes. When you’re in the grocery store and have not one, but at least 2 screaming children and get looks of sympathy or eye rolls from everyone around you. It’s when your little baby won’t stop screaming after everything you’ve tried and it’s been hours. It’s when you’ve been touched and hugged and banged into and hung on by 3 different people all day and if one more person touches me or starts one more fight while I’m making supper they’re going to be sorry, kind of moments.

“Lord, I have nothing left to give.”

Well, that’s not the whole truth, actually. If I were honest, it’s more like “Lord, I have only one string left that I’m holding onto for sanity.” You don’t have nothing. You have this small little string. Not a scrap of good worsted weight yarn, but like a little thread that hangs from your sleeve. “Lord…this is all I have.”

When we decided to homeschool, I think a few people made comments about how crazy we were. Things like “I could never do that!” or the “Good luck” with that certain tone. Believe me, I wondered not so much if my kids would get a good education from Knut and I, but if they would make it without me killing them because we never got a break from each other. I loved sending Silje off to school and being one kid less. I love getting breaks from motherhood like any other red-blooded mother. I think that was my biggest worry. Being with them all day long…all year long.

One of the companies that we got a curriculum through sent me a gift with purchase that really struck me. I didn’t know we were getting a gift with purchase…wasn’t shooting for it or anything. I’d love to show you a picture but…well I digress again.

It’s a small silver pendant of a “widow’s mite” that the company owner picked up several of during her last visit to the Holy land. I’m sure it’s not worth much. It’s not like a priceless artifact that I got as a “gift with purchase.” It’s small, and beat up brown metal. It came with a note. The gist of it said:

“Sometimes we mothers feel like we have nothing to give…or nothing left to give. When you get to that point, remember the widow. She had very little to give, but what she did have, she gave it to the Lord.”

I know that this blog I show a lot of the “highlights” of our family, but rarely do I ever show the low-lights. First, I think it’s pretty culturally inappropriate most times. Second, I want my kids to look back on the things I wrote and remember all of these things. I’d hate to write something that embarrassed them completely that I just put it out for the whole world to see. I’d hate to dishonor my husband by trashing him on the blog after a disagreement in the name of “honesty” and I don’t always share my short comings because, well, who likes to do that?

That’s all to say that although it looks like I do a lot, when I say I’m lazy a lot, I’m trying to be honest. When I say that I sometimes stick my children in front of the television for a break, I don’t say for how long for a very good reason. There are many, many times where I feel like I just need to chase a bit of sanity so that I can keep going on.

That’s where the miracle of the widow’s mite comes in. I mean, I think I’ll always have my “sanity savers.” (For me, my knitting, sewing, etc.) I don’t think we are meant to throw our rest out the door. A verse that I found this last year really struck me in this point:

“In vain you rise early and stay up late, toiling for food to eat–for he grants sleep to those he loves.” Psalm 127:2 (and by the way, this whole chapter is full of amazing wisdom…and irony. For instance, after he talks about granting sleep, he talks about how sons are a blessing.)

It’s the idea of chasing sanity, or holding onto the present because you just can’t imagine that you can handle what the future is. It’s putting your time and body and sanity on the alter, and saying “Lord, it doesn’t look like much, even to me. Still, it’s all I have.”

It’s when we let go of that pathetic little string, fully expecting to fall straight into LaLa Land, and fall unexpectedly onto God’s strength, allowing you to do the impossible. Instead of running from your responsibilities for “just a little break” it’s settling in to them and asking God to help you several times a day.

Since I’ve realized this, as I refer to it as “letting go and setting up shop in LaLa Land” I’ve experienced more joy as a mother than I think I ever have. It’s when I stop trying to push my kids away, but ask them to come closer and sit in my lap a minute longer. It’s stopping and reading them a story when I’d really love to see what’s going on on Facebook. It’s wrestling with the boys when I’m tired, reading Silje one more chapter at bedtime when all I want to do is sit down alone and enjoy the ice cream I’m hiding in my freezer.

We all have weaknesses. Secretly, though, we think that’s what makes us strong. We call it survival. How many times have you heard “I know smoking is a bad habit, but I just can’t survive without them.” How many times have you heard “I know this is sooooo wrong, *insert understanding look from friend* but it’s the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

I know. I’ve said it. I’ve believed it. I still sometimes believe it. I’m starting to learn, though, that those little bad habits or as we call “escapes” aren’t the source of our sanity. It is what is robbing us from not just joy, but life. An abundant, full, God-breathed life!

So how do I do it all? First off, it doesn’t all get done. I’m still not perfect. Life isn’t perfect. But I’m learning, that what I can get done, what I will do with my time, may not be much…but I’m giving it to God. That means doing what he says to do with it. It’s only fractions of hours here, and a few seconds there. It’s not much, but it’s God’s. It’s amazing what he can do with such a small amount.