The Princess And The Warrior Housewife

This is kind of a Dr. Jekel and Mr. Hyde story except that it is all about my daily inner struggle. Some mornings I wake up feeling as though I could conquer the world or at least mine. Armed with my cleaning products, spanking spoon and my secret weapon, Starbucks, I start in the kitchen and I don’t stop until it sparkles. I have the whole house clean, dinner ready, and the boys whipped into shape by the time my bread winner walks through the door. I greet him in my pajamas with yesterday’s beauty supplies turned war paint under my eyes. I may not woo him with my appearance, but I feel like I have truly earned my position and title as Warrior Housewife on these days. 

There are many other mornings, usually following several seemingly unappreciated Warrior Housewife days, when I wake up needing a me day. I feel like I deserve to find my inner princess. On these mornings, I role over and go back to bed. I hear all the commotion just outside of my bedroom. I realize that there are messes in progress, but I pretend that they are not my problem. Dreams of fairy godmothers waiving their magic wand to return order to my kingdom bring a sense of comfort as I lay in bed. As the Princess I get to spend time enjoying my shower, painting my toenails and sending my little jesters away to play in the outer corridors while I get myself ready to remind my Prince charming why he married me. I will admit, it takes a big imagination to pull a day like this off and denial is a huge part of that. When my prince walks through the door, never quite knowing which one of us will be waiting to greet him, he will find that the servants nor the Warrior Housewife showed up for work on this day. But he will find me sparkling and beautiful just like on our wedding day minus the big white dress. There is no dinner waiting for him, just me and my less stressed face, waiting for him to sweep me off my feet and off to Pei Wei for our royal dinner. 

There may come a day when I am able to bring balance to these two parts of my personality. One day Princess Me may be able to channel Warrior Housewife just in time for Bread Winner, er, Prince Charming to find his princess and the house in order. But that would require a real fairy godmother.

Life In The Fast Lane

I have always lived my life highly caffeinated and on an adrenaline rush. Even if I am not running late to start with, I somehow find a little something extra to throw in my my daily routine that sets me back and gets me moving faster. Since having kids, I don’t have to look too hard anymore. Years of this pattern has led me to believe that I am subconsciously addicted to adrenaline. Fortunately, I don’t have a pattern of tardiness to go along with my disfunction, but even still, I may have trouble on it’s way to my mail box. 

While running late on Monday to my prayer meeting on an empty gas tank, I may have been cutting it a little too close with the new stop light cameras. There were at least three questionable moments. And today I could not rush Caleb through his books fast enough before heading out to pick up Isaac from the tutor’s. “Sorry Caleb, no time to look at the pictures and actually enjoy our time together here at Starbucks.” Driving eighty on the freeway as I approached an officer facing me at a turnabout, I threw on the breaks knowing I had been caught. It’s all over, Travis is going to lecture me and I am going to have to take it like a woman cause I deserve it. I watched as he pulled around behind me but miraculously never pulled me over. I can just imagine getting too many points all in one week and losing my license. That is probably not the funniest thought I have ever had, but I laugh anyway. 

Next on the agenda, get gas and run to the library to begin our fun day together. I was so tired by the time we got there all I could do was slouch in the oversized chair forcing long deep breathes. Are we having fun yet? 

You get the idea. I know I am not the stop and smell the roses kind of person. I struggle with the here and now of enjoying my kids, my friends, and family. I am frustrated with the routines of life on my quest to get to the finish line. 

I once heard that the natural coincides with the spiritual and if that is true, what has all this meant for my spiritual life? I wonder how often I have prayed to be changed and then despised the process that God used to answer my prayer? How many times have I treated my “quiet times” like a drive thru service? Or, have I said, “here am I God, use me”, but then walked away from the testing he set before me. 

We all know in our head that life is short. Kids grow up too fast. The duties will all be there in the morning, but the people, the children’s giggles and their hearts may not. We know it, we just don’t always live like we believe it. 

I hope that I can put to rest the “beam me up Scotty” mindset in my spiritual life as well. The last few months I have enjoyed drawing my strength from lingering in God’s presence. I would not have made it through this year if it had not been for the wisdom imparted by the Holy Spirit through the school of Hard Knox. There is a depth that flows from a life who has had nothing else to cling to but God. I have learned not to despise the processes, the hard times. I have seen how they bring forth fullness of life.

Kudos To All You Mother's Of Four

This was one of those morning when I woke up apprehensive about beginning my day. I knew I needed to prep myself to be flexible. It is our busiest day of the week. Most of it is meant to be fun, but still being the planner that I am, I can make things less enjoyable when we are not on schedule. 

So, today I had an extra almost 2 year old joining us on our adventures. Let’s call him Mavis. And, today my coach decided to step it up at my 5:30 am workout. And today my husband is home sick leaving me no option of canceling everything.

The four kids and I pile into the SUV running late to drop off Isaac at his tutor’s house. We arrived 2 minutes behind schedule and I am already forcing deeper breathes. We continued on just the four of us to our weekly Starbucks reading and cramming session. Caleb had one book left to read before we hit the library a little later.

I felt a rush of blood pump to my heart when I hit traffic. I began to rehearse my “I’m being flexible” pep talks until it cleared for my exit. 

Starbucks was busier than I have ever seen it! That is where the fun began. The children, including Mavis were practically angels…clumsey little angels, though. 

Caleb sat on the only available chair to begin his book followed by two of the cutest little toddlers ever! I ordered mini scones for the boys with kids steamers and the biggest coffee I could buy for myself. I ended up getting over charged and was waiting to get it taken care of when I had to jump into my Super Mom mode. A lady took a step back and began to fall on those little angels who were nearly sitting on her heal. I reached over and grabbed the lady pulling her back to her feet in the nick of time.

Now that everyone had been served I had hoped to recoup some sense of control, but then Mavis began to spill his drink while munching on his scone. Behind me Austin drops his whole steamer. Just as the lady is moping up our mess, I begin encouraging Mavis to finish his steamer forgetting that he has a little burp up problem. Well, I guess that will dry in this heat they are calling a cold front. 

To make a long story short, we all gave up and piled in the car. I finished reading the book to Caleb in the car and we were 2 minutes late to pick up Isaac. The rest of our day went much smoother with the exception of the double stroller I had to borrow for the library. It has been YEARS since I have had to push one of those things around. I had to take the long way to find the wheel chair ramp to the sidewalk. We lost a shoe along the way and the big boys had to go back for it while I waited with the beast…double stroller. If it had not been for all the southern hospitality, we never would have made it through all three sets of doors to get to this super secure Southlake Library. It took me and two other innocent bystanders to push the thing through the entrances as the wheels kept getting stuck the on the doorway and strangers feet were ran over.” Thanks again! Sorry about your toes.”

All in all, it was a fun day. I was able to laugh all the way through it as I planned my blog therapy upon my arrival back home. I don’t have anything spiritual to add, nor any words of wisdom learned from my day out. Sometimes laughter and knowing that someone else goes through crazy things too is all we need to bring a little piece of happiness.

Just Out For A Good Time

My super hot husband and I were in down town Fort worth last Saturday night acting young and fun like we use to be before we had kids. We ate at out favorite sushi place and then went to see a movie that was definitely NOT kid friendly, but quite hilarious. When it was over we were enjoying our stroll back to the car when I heard some commotion coming from across the street. It seemed vaguely familiar, like something I had filed away in my mind from my more evangelical days at CFNI.

I remember walking through Deep Ellum with a team of students, Bibles in hand and our pockets full of zeal. The diversity of people ranged from young college couples, frightening goth youth, to vagrants who smelled of stale alcohol and urine. We all came together to experience the down town streets, each with our own purposes in mind. Most were there to have a good time, others of us wanted to change the world for Jesus, while still others were only hoping to bum a smoke or some lose change.

I have come a long way since then. I had joined the crowd of fun seekers. A slight annoyance crept up inside of me to join my thoughtful judgments. I noticed all the people starring with contempt for this man with microphone in hand bellowing about God’s love and power. I could almost hear their thoughts. ” Can you believe this man actually thinks he is going to make a difference like this? He must be a religious freak of some sort. We should stay away from him.” I could hear them, cause my own thoughts were equally as ugly.

But then a new thought interrupted my own. It had not come from my heart, but from a gentle and powerful entity. I felt the Holy Spirit opening my eyes to see a man who is so passionately in love with God that he is willing to sacrifice all, even to stand up in the middle of Ft. Worth amidst mockers and scoffers if it means the slightest of chances to bring Jesus to the lost and hurting. I began to listen to this man’s words with new ears and was convicted by his message of God’s love for me. Oh, how far I have come that I would allow my heart to become so hardened to the gospel and God’s messengers. Who am I to judge what God may call another to do or his methods.

Judging is something I have prided myself on not falling into. But it goes two ways. We can either judge others who don’t hold to the same high standards that we pridefully hold. We can just as easily be someone who judges others for passionately seeking to please God because it makes us feel convicted, condemned or that they are too overly zealous. Either way, shame on us for our pride and arrogance. Let’s just let God be God in the lives of others. Only he is worthy of such judgments and yet I have found him to be more forgiving and loving then my imperfect friends. It is his kindness that leads us to repentance. It is only by his power that I am able to ever do the right thing, not because I am stronger than anyone else. I couldn’t make myself perfect enough to be accepted by him until I finally submitted to his loving grace. He wanted me just the way I was, drunk, promiscuous, needy, angry, and broken. I said yes and he did the rest. Anytime I think I am better than someone else, I might as well be spitting on his grace cause seriously, what did I really do to put myself back together again? Can any of us fix ourselves? Then why do make others feel like they have to. Let’s just lead them to the same cross that we first humbled ourselves before. Just a thought

More Than A Name

This morning I have once again been playing catch up on the computer while giving only a small portion of my attention to the worship music playing in the background. But one small phrase caught my ear and overwhelmed my heart.

I am SO not a poet. I am actually more of a logical thinker which makes it sometimes difficult for me to put into words the explosions of love and gratefulness bursting inside of my heart for my Lord and Saviour. Thankfully, God has gifted others to write beautiful worship songs which enable me to express my heart to Him.

In my busyness, I almost missed this thought that has now opened my mind to a new way of viewing who I am or maybe I should say Who’s I am. “take His Name” is all that I can remember from the last hour of music playing. But my thoughts have immediately shifted to my single years.

My maiden name bares much shame. My father was extremely abusive to my Mom in many ways. I spent the first 18 years of my life in fear and shame for all of the sexual abuse my ,suppose to be protector, inflicted on me. Not only could I NOT wait to get out of there, but even after I became a Christian I longed for a new name. I wanted to put my past in the past once and for all. I had even considered taking my beloved step fathers name, but knew that my time would come soon enough. And my patience paid off.

When I was 25 I became Mrs. Rebecca Gates and breathed a sigh of relief. The new Gates legacy began with my godly father in law. He is a man of prayer, mercy, integrity and faith. My husband has followed in his fathers footsteps. He honors me with his eyes and his affections and respect. I have taken on my husbands name and, in many ways, his identity.

And then I thought, “yes Lord, I do want Your name”. The idea of being called a Christian and finding my identity in him was not foreign to me. I’ve heard it preached my whole life. But the passion I have felt as I now imagine myself a bride standing before an awesome God is stirring change in my thinking. I picture myself as I was at 17 years old when I asked Jesus to take me as I was with nothing to offer, but shame, a young woman labeled dirty and unlovable. My life was hopeless, and yet God proved the world wrong. It was then that He changed my name. And I am forever changing more each day into His image of me. In other words, because of Jesus in me, God sees me as beautiful, wanted, faithful, worthy, godly, and anything else that is pure and good. This is who I am now since I have received His Son. I am so honored to bare His name.

Tags: christian, hope, love, marriage

My Challenge

I have wanted to write this for awhile now, but I have also wanted to do a lot of other things too. But before we get too carried away with ourselves, allow me to give you something to consider.

I think back to when Clinton was elected and how much I loathed him. I don’t need to go into my reasons why, that is not what this is all about. But, when he was in office I certainly did not hold back my feelings about him.

Then Bush was elected and I got to experience the other side of that. I loved and respected our president though I have never expected him to be perfect since I am not perfect. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I am quick to defend those I love. Even today, Bush continues to be not only criticized, but really, verbally attacked. And I have learned to hold my tongue because I have been humbled. I would be a hypocrite to say that I was not just as guilty.

Here is my resolution. I made it in the first year that Bush took office and now I get to put myself through the test. Regardless of how I feel about our new President, he holds the highest office in our nation. It is a seat of honor. Who am I to say whether he is worthy to take this seat. My job now is to pray for him and for our nation. My job is not to slander him. I know that many of us this morning have cried and wondered what does this new “change” really mean. We have experienced fear, regret, anger and defeat. But the only words that can bring hope are words in prayer. I think that if we can really search our hearts, and our Bibles we will see that Jesus never justifies slanderous talk.

Just in case anyone is confused about what I am saying, know that I do not mean that we don’t continue to vote, write political letters and make our “right wing” voices heard. But, simply complaining to our friend who can do nothing to change anything is not going to benefit anyone. Muling over the past, or angry blanket statements are only bringing more heaviness to the atmosphere.

One last thought, it is in times of controversy that the church is strengthened. Maybe this is our time to grow.

PS, I know that not all of my friends agree with me, especially on political things. I hope that we can agree to disagree. And I hope that our friendship is more valuable then these issues. I believe that if the parties could ever learn to trust each other enough to talk openly and candidly without being ruled by anger, we may be able to finally come together for a solution. It’s not about being right or wrong. Many of us have deep personal convictions. We were created different and therefore, we see life through a different set of eyes. Let’s either try to understand one another or let’s just chose to love anyway. That’s my prayer anyway.

Tags: christian, democrat, Political, presidential, republican

Mercy For My Mess

Mercy For My Mess
Yesterday was one of those days that left me hoarse and drained. It was busy
and stressful all day. By the time the boys got home from school all I
wanted to do was find a quiet moment to process my day, but instead I now
had to deal with their issues too.

I needed to address each of their teachers in a note. One letter was in
response to my son’s emotional breakdown about the bad day he had at school.
The other letter was in response to the zero my son was getting on a reading
project because I neglected to follow through with it. This only added to my
stress. I felt embarrassed, and ashamed. I felt sad that my boys had to go through these things and I was trying to fix it, all the while the little
darlings were stirring up chaos around me.

In my frustration I resorted not to yelling, but to screaming. I had not
been pushed to this level of anxiety in awhile, not since our days of home
schooling anyway. The baby was whining, the boys were fighting about silly
things that seemed important enough to them. The house was practically being
destroyed as I tried desperately to fix all of their school issues.

Relief finally came home from work. I took my dinner into the bedroom where
I sought shelter for the rest of the night. When morning came I wanted to
forget all of my frustrations from the day before, but the mess was waiting
for me to clean up all through the house. There were lunches that still needed to be made, breakfast to prepare, and children who needed to be dressed and ready to begin a new day.

I could feel the pressure building. It’s not like they were totally
misbehaving, but in my emotions, we were beginning where we had left off the day before.
Then came more screaming. By the time I got them dropped off at school I
felt completely defeated. Why couldn’t I have just let go and started fresh and new?

As I listened to the song, Mercies New by Nicole Nordeman God’s Spirit spoke to me heart. It says, “Fairer still my own free will
Is the better one to blame for this familiar mess I’ve made again

So I would understand, if You were out of patience
And I would understand, if I was out of chances

Your mercies are new every morning
So let me wake with the dawn
When the music is through or so it seems to be
Let me sing a new song, old things gone
Everyday it’s true, You make all Your mercies new”.

I realized that my kids needed this mercy as much as I did this morning. I wondered how my kids would be able to know of God’s tender mercies while my attitude demonstrates such unforgiveness to them. My heart now ached to receive this gift from God which He so freely began to pour over me.

Something amazing happens when we experience God’s love, His grace, His mercy in a personal way. It breaks through the resistant calluses of our heart and enables us to express His love, grace and mercy towards others. I was changed in that moment of worship. I looked forward to beginning a new day with my children. My prayer now, “Lord, clean up the mess I left for you with my kids”.

Tags: children, Mercy, moms

The Man Of My Dreams

The first thing I use to ask my roommates upon walking in the front door, “did the man of my dreams call?”. I have such a dry sense of humor, I always say silly things like that as I laugh quietly to myself. They are like half jokes. I had no idea at the time who he might be, but I was anxious to meet him. And, like most young girls, get married and live happily ever after. After Travis and I had been dating for awhile, I asked my usual rhetorical question, but this time I didn’t laugh. I felt a weight inside of my heart as I pondered for a moment whether I had now met him.

Travis and I are about to celebrate our ninth anniversary together so I have been doing a lot of reflecting. Sometimes, in the morning while he is sleeping, I look over at him and think about how far we have come. When we first got married, we barely new each other in comparison to how close we are now. We were two very different individuals and now sometimes it is hard to remember things like who liked sushi first. We use to have to buy his and hers salsas cause “one of us” was kind of a white boy. We worried about such things as whether our kids were going to be vegetarians like me or carnavors like Trav. We argued about finances, we held onto our independence, we had not learned to be a team.

So, I stare over at my tender husband who has now become my best friend. He is the only one that I can trust the most intimate parts of myself to, my body, my dreams, my fears, my insecurities. He has given me nine years of unconditional love that has built an unshakable foundation of trust for our marriage. He has stood with me when I have been at my ugliest and meanest. He seemed to not have even noticed when there has been so much more of me to love after having babies. After our miscarriage, I lay in bed unable to sleep, unable to escape the pain of my thoughts and emotions. He sat up with me most of the night and carried me back to bed when I finally fell asleep. Then, without complaining, he got up for work the next morning.

We have come a long way since our days of fighting for position in our marriage. I thought I was smarter and wiser. He was determined to ignore my input and prove me wrong. We both now rest in our God given roles. We do our part and lean on each other when we are weak. He has become the man of my dreams. There is no other man greater than mine in my eyes. He is the sexiest man to be found. He leads me out of my comfort zone and into greater places. His belief in me gives me the confidence to reach higher. He is honorable to me therefore I treasure his opinion of me.

We walked down the isle and declared our love for one another, but what was suppose to be the most beautiful day of our lives has become a shallow memory in comparison to the love I now feel for my husband. He makes my heart beat faster. With every year that goes by, he proves himself as my hero.

Tags: husband, love, marriage, travis

Wiped Out

It is common knowledge when preparing to become a parent that one must change diapers, but I was not prepared for what comes after potty training. I am thankful to be out of that stage in my life…at least for awhile longer before I have to go through it again with Austin. It has actually been long enough now that I am ready to talk about the traumas and maybe even share a laugh or two about it.

I was so excited when I could finally put away the diaper bag and the “moist toilettes”. No longer would I have to roll up my sleeves, hold my breath and remove human discharge from a wiggling child’s bottom while trying desperately NOT to get any on me. But then came the calls from the bathroom. “Moooommyyy”…..then even louder,”MOOMMMMYYYYYYY”. ” I need help wiping my bottom.” I doesn’t sound like that big of a transition, but the mess I use to remove with a handy dandy wipey is now much more difficult with a less sturdy piece of toilet paper. Darn, where are my plastic gloves when I need them! I tried to show them how to do it on their own, but when it comes down to the truth, kids don’t want the dirty job either. So the battle of the wills begins.

After months of the calling out from the bathroom and strained affirmation announced back by me, “you can do it, your a big boy now!” they finally gave up, but not without continued torture. Phase Two of the transition began when a naked child approached me, pants down, and fully bent over he says, “Mom, did I get it all?” Choking down the last bite of my lunch, I made the mistake of answering his question while staring into his “big brown eye” (if ya know what I mean). I really do not recommend this unless you want the phase to last longer. When I finally learned my lesson and refused to open my eyes and look anymore, the boys needed to find another way to torture me. Clogging the toilet with as much TP as they could possibly stuff into it was not enough. Nor was putting dirty toilet paper into the garbage. Come on, we don’t live in Mexico or Brazil. That is something I had only seen while on the mission field!

Phase Three, just when I think it’s all over, I find a child standing on the bathroom sink, bent over, butt to the mirror, several squares in hand ready for any missed spots that the mirror may expose. I really felt the mom part of me saying I needed to do something to stop this madness, but the lady in me went into self preservation mode. I picked my jaw off of the floor and quietly walked away. What I don’t know or go into denial about, won’t hurt me…I hope.

Tags: children, diapers, potty training, pullups, toilet paper

A Work In Progress

“If I had it to do all over again…”, my mom always says when the conversation turns to my childhood. Her countenance changes as the regret and condemnation she still struggles with fills her eyes with tears.

Today I did a little reflecting of my own as I talked to a long time friend about potty training. Austin is almost two and it is still the furthest thing from my mind. He is almost definitely my last baby. Friends and family often comment on how much my parenting style has changed since my last two boys. By this age Isaac had spent countless mornings on the potty. There was no action going on. He had not shown any kind of an interest. Nor did he exhibit any of the readiness signs. But, being an idealistic first time mother and comparing him to what my mother always said I was capable of at 18 months, I thought he should be ready. Even if he wasn’t I was determined to make him ready. So, I would serve him his breakfast on the potty if I had to, but he was not getting up until he went. I have pictures of him fast asleep on the potty. And I ask myself, “What the heck was I thinking!”

I was young, and selfish and stubborn. Poor little Caleb, I can barely remember him as a baby. I was so caught up in pushing Isaac to grow up too fast and with the issues in my own life, that I never really bonded with him until he was three.

I had always wanted to be a mom. I had dreamed about it all of my life just like most girls do. But, somewhere in my mind I thought it would be different. I imagined that having children would be like wearing my favorite fashion accessory. They would be almost a part of me, make me feel good about myself, but without being too much or getting in the way. You could only imagine my surprise as I discovered that my whole life had to change. I would have to find a new normal. Everywhere I go, everything I do requires much more effort and planning. I may somehow manage to get myself and the baby ready and to church on time, but that last diaper change just before service has left me with only 2 undesirable choices. Either try to make it home and back to change my clothes before the whole service is over. Or sit through the service wet with baby pee on my top. I would have to learn to be flexible, to plan ahead, but be ready to change everything at the last minute. Ultimately, I was going to need to learn to love and to see to my children’s needs above my own.

Fast forward six years later, a little older, a little wiser but geez, SIX YEARS later! Baby Austin was born. I rocked him, I slept with him….I enjoyed him. I stopped trying to produce an Olympic gold medalist baby, and just let him be our little blessing. He is a baby being raised under grace rather than the law. Not one day has gone by that I have not adored him and loved being his Mom.

One day Austin will have to thank his big brothers for making me the mommy I am today. They taught me to be more selfless…at least more than I use to be anyway. They taught me to relax, things are not always going to be in tip top order. They loved me unconditionally and showed me how to love them and Austin in the same way.

So today I thought, “if I had it to do all over again” and guilt and condemnation welled up inside of me, but God’s grace took over and showed me the way out. I sat my boys down and told them how special they are to me. I confessed how my selfishness had failed them and asked their forgiveness. We prayed together and asked God to heal and restore every part. Then the boys spoke a blessing over all of us that they learned in church. And it’s done. God does the rest.

I am far from being a perfect mother, but I believe that with help from the Holy Spirit, a humble heart before my children and a willingness to continue to grow, my children will grow up whole and strong.

Tags: children, faith, love, mistakes, potty training, regrets, siblings