A Lesson in Breathing

Breathe. It has two parts: inhale, exhale. Try as you might, it does not work to only do one. Which is better, to inhale or to exhale? Do not try to answer; it is a ridiculous question. Both are necessary. You just cannot survive if you only try to do one or the other.

At the recommendation of my sister, I recently started reading O2 by Richard Dahlstrom. I have not finished it yet, but just the first few chapters helped adjust my perspective to a healthier way of living. He talks about Christians who believe inhaling is the most important—spending time studying the Bible, in prayer, silence and solitude, etc. Then there are the Christians who believe exhaling is the most important—serving, ministry, evangelism, missions. Which is better, to inhale, or to exhale?

Stupid question. You need to do both.

It was not too far a jump to apply it to my life as a mom. I realized why I started burning out on the whole motherhood thing a while back. I was trying to exhale constantly. My children consumed all of my time and energy, and I did precious little to recharge, to inhale. I thought that was what good moms did. They served around the clock with no thought for themselves.

I have not actually gotten confessions from the moms who seem to pull that off, but I am guessing that most of them burned out at some point. Perhaps they had the strength of will to continue anyway, but I would wager that their joy and abundance of life was lacking.

Depriving yourself of oxygen will not make you a better mom. Perhaps for some moms, serving their children is inhaling in some way—some didgeridoo players can breathe in and out at the same time. I, however, cannot. I need to breathe in, then out.

Thankfully for me, I have a wise husband. When we realized I was precariously close to burnout, he helped me start creating time and opportunity for me to inhale. It was intentional—when you have two toddlers, time to inhale does not come by coincidentally. I began making a habit of getting up earlier than everyone else to have some time to pray and spend time with God, to journal and read the Bible. It meant getting to bed at a decent hour, even if I left the kitchen messy. Naptimes became sacred sanity-time. I would not do housework. I would inhale. Do art. Read, uninterrupted. Practice music, albeit quietly. Boulder. Write stories or poetry. Spin poi. My hobbies, the things that I love, that remind me I am more than a mom. Being a mom is a huge part of my identity—becoming a mom changed me on a profound level. But I am still me, and I do not want motherhood to consume all aspects of my life.

Once Kestrel was old enough and spaced out her nursing a bit, Robert began watching the kids and let me leave the house without them for a few hours. Actually off-duty. For real. While the other things helped, being out of sight and ear-shot of the kids was different. Generally, I get up early and go while everyone is still sleeping. Sometimes they are still asleep when I get back, but usually they have just had a few hours of dad-time. I go try out new coffeehouses. I go to creeks and practice my fiddle, whistles, and poi, or just string up my hammock and watch the dragonflies. I enjoy the silence. Sometimes I go to my parents’ and sit and drink tea with them and talk without bouncing a fussy baby or looking over my shoulder to see what Tiernan was climbing on now. A couple times I got to take a sister or two out with me.

When I return from one of those off-duty times, I feel refreshed. It is not hard to go back—I am excited to see my kids again. To hug them and help them. I want them. And you know, I bet they can tell, and like it better, when mom is loving being a mom.

Inhale, moms. Make a way. This is what works for our family. It will look different for you. But if you do not inhale, you will eventually pass out.

As a note, we also set aside hobby time for Robert. I take the kids out to the park or something for a few hours while he gets time to work on his music recording without interruption, or to crank his amp up and play his guitar as loud as he likes. Dads need to inhale, too.

Three Years of Motherhood

What metaphor is there
for something such as motherhood?
What image could capture
such glory and such pain?
What story could convey
the way that you are changed
from that moment when your child
first opens his eyes to see your face?
Perhaps there is nothing that can compare--
nothing that so binds your heart
to another's joy and hurt
nothing that brings you to so burst with pride
or so much menial work.
The endless tasks, the sleepless nights
the constant interruption--
the overpowering, endless flow
of love you've never known.
There's really nothing to describe
the fear of somehow failing them
or the days you feel you can't go on
and yet, somehow you do.
There's something amazing, quite incomparable
about becoming a person's very favorite,
to be the one they turn to
for comfort, in need, for praise--
to know that you, above all others
can fill their heart and body.
No simile exists, not that I can find--
to be a mom, though, I do believe
brings you near to the Divine.

Today is Tiernan's birthday--three years old, if you can believe it. There's something about his birthday; it marks not only his entrance to the world, but a shift in my life, too--the day I entered motherhood.

We will spend the day celebrating him--but now, while everyone else still sleeps, I indulge in celebrating my own milestone of three years of motherhood. It has changed me, deep in my core, in indescribable ways. It's been the hardest and most beautiful journey I can imagine. I had naive hopes that it would all be joy and delight, and there are overwhelming doses of both. But the pain and frustration; the blood, sweat, and tears of motherhood have been very real to me, as well. The constant questioning and self-doubt. Is this what is best? What if I scar them for life? From back when I was pregnant with Tiernan, I knew that this was a child that God loved, somehow, even more passionately than I did. And He has trusted me with caring for him, and now Kestrel as well. I am awed by this responsibility, and pray that He gives me the strength and wisdom to carry through with the task He has set before me.

Thinking about motherhood brings other people I know to mind. I'd like to say something to them.

I know many women whose very heart's cry is to become a mother, but as of yet they have been denied. My heart breaks for you, and I earnestly pray for you. I do not know what else I can do, but if there is something, please, let me know.

I know others who are mothers and are in those times they feel like they can't go on. You also are in my prayers. You are stronger than you think, and becoming even stronger. If you need to vent or pour out your pain, I am here to listen.

I'd also like to thank the mothers who have helped me through this journey, who have listened to me and encouraged and advised me through these years. Especially, (is there a stronger word for that?) my own beautiful mother, who taught me by example what it means to be a mom and has always been there to help in any way she can.

My Gypsy Heart

Today's an alright, decent fellow

I do enjoy his company

But Tomorrow is my favorite chap

For he's bringing adventure and change to me

Unlike a few years ago, I'm really pretty happy with life right now. I am pleased (most days) with where we are at in this season. That said, if this season were to drag on for the rest of our lives, I probably wouldn't be. As a season, this is great. We love Austin. 

Perhaps this is contrary to the norm, but I am a person of change. I need seasons, and I need them to change. As much as I love Austin, I have no desire to stay here for the rest of my life. Maybe it comes from having moved an average of once a year, maybe it something deeper in my blood. I cannot fathom staying in one place that long. I get antsy and discontent once things become too familiar. I crave change. I want to see the world. Experience different places and people. Taste their foods, sing their songs, walk their paths. This feels like one of those things that is a core essential to my being.

We have clear direction, a plan, to make this happen, and so I am content(ish) to wait another couple years in an awesome city like Austin while things unfold. We're actively taking steps to make that dream a reality. Our plan is to (eventually) sell the house and live in a travel trailer/RV so that we can move whenever and wherever God leads us. To live a mobile lifestyle. My desire is to join with various Christian communities and outreaches across the nation to learn and serve alongside them.

It brings up a number of valid questions and concerns:


How did you come up with this? Is it even possible?  I'll thank my parents for giving us the idea. Now that my dad is retired, my family is getting ready to do just this, and we anticipate being able to travel with them. There are quite a few people who are nomads, living in buses, RVs, boats, vans, you name it. Many have families, several with many more children than we have. Oh, and their blogs are amazing.

Does Robert want to do this, too? Yes, he does! He's amazing like that.


Small living space? Yup. But we don't need most our junk anyway. Besides, the idea is that we will do most of our living outside and with the people we are partnering with in that city.

Kids' schooling? We were going to homeschool anyway. Now we will be able to show them the world instead of just telling them about it.

Income? We've got a couple ideas there. Robert's field (software engineering) has ample opportunities for telecommuting positions. We do have dreams for making money pursuing our passions. Mine is to have a family circus to perform at Renaissance Faires as we travel. (Hence my hobbies of slacklining, songwriting, diabolo, dragon sticks, fire poi, etc.) Robert's is to record and mix music. His will probably make more money. But until we see if either one will be able to support us, he is a genius coder and we can fall back on that. One of the benefits of minimal living is that (in theory) it will be much cheaper, so it's possible we'll be able to get by with Robert only having to work part time.

If you have any other questions, do bring them up! We do need to address things, so if you come up with a problem we haven't thought of, we'd appreciate it.

Something Near and Dear to Me

It's Saturday morning, and my heart is full. Thanks, largely, to God, and His beautiful people at the Austin House of Prayer. Let me tell you a little about them.

Every Friday evening, we gather for a meal. Everyone brings something to share, and we sit and fellowship, talk and tell stories. Sometimes we have a skit from the kids or a brief teaching from a community member, a few announcements about events coming up or reports of what God is doing in the city or abroad. Then we clean up. At 7:30, we go into the prayer room, where the band is singing some worship songs. We sing, we worship, we pray.

Doesn't sound that remarkable, put that way. But it is.

A lot of times, I walk away from church or spending time with Christians with this thought: "I want to be a better Christian." I walk away from AHOP with a different feeling: "I want to love Jesus more." Suddenly it's not about doing stuff to convince God and myself that I'm sincere. It is, quite simply, about loving God, the first and greatest commandment. That is the essential foundation.

After years of convincing myself I was strong and unwavering enough to not be influenced by the people I hang out with, I've given up. I always tend to become more like the people I call my friends. When I found the people at AHOP, I knew I wanted them to be my friends, because they had something I wanted. They had pure, simple, passionate love for Jesus. They radiated it. You didn't have to worship with them to know it--it was evident in so many other ways. They are my role models. Now, one of the highlights of my week is bumping shoulders with these people as we wash dishes and talk about life.

I have learned a lot worshiping with them. They are comprised of Christians of many denominations, and for the first time, I witnessed a people draw together by their love of God who did not care about petty theological differences. Their heart is for reconciliation among churches. There's such beauty in the myriad of ways that people worship, and the open, accepting atmosphere there is uniquely precious. Though I hope it's unintentional, I feel like a lot of churches often give the vibe that they're pretty sure they have a monopoly on God, and that their way is (obviously) the correct way. That's so not true. Among the people I look up to most are several Catholics, a couple attending an Anglican church, and some of your non-denominational protestant types. The wonderful thing? They're not trying to convert each other. They're just spurring one another on to love God and love people.

There's so much freedom in their times of worship. Some people dance. Some sit. Some kneel. Some stand. Some draw or write on the walls in the back. There's a wonderful sense that your expression to God is just as valid as anyone else's. I love it. And unless I'm mistaken, God loves it too. I'm definitely under the impression that He spends a lot of time there. I, at least, have met Him there on many occasions.

If you are reading this and are from AHOP, let me say I am profoundly thankful for you and your influence in my life. Thank you for accepting us exactly the way we are. And if you're willing to put up with us, I'd love to find more times to hang out.

If you're not from AHOP and want to see for yourself what I'm talking about, come on down and join us. Fridays at the Seabrook Center, 2830 Real Street. (Not a fake street.) Dinner starts at 6:15. Bring some food to share.

A Quandary

As a mother, how do I find the balance between protecting my children from harm and giving them freedom to explore, discover, and learn about the world?

Yesterday is what got me thinking about it. We were climbing at Enchanted Rock. Tiernan face-planted on the granite. I had warned him to be careful, but should I have stopped him from running around? He was fine, but what if it had knocked his teeth out? Then later, he was stung by a scorpion. (Having only heard about the deadly scorpions of the Middle East and Africa, I spent a few terrifying moments thinking that he was going to die an excruciatingly painful death within the next hour. Thankfully, our climbing partners were able to inform me that the scorpions in Texas were not venomous and it was more like getting a bee sting. In comparison, that was something I could cope with.) I have to say, I'm proud of Tiernan. He cried for a few minutes, then sucked it up and went on with life. We frequently checked back with him and asked him how his hand felt. He just shrugged and said, "It still hurts."

Am I being a negligent mother to let these things happen? On one hand, I think it's great, even important, for my kids to spend time outside discovering things. I intentionally do not bring toys for Tiernan on these trips so that he will learn to explore and entertain himself using only the sticks, rocks, puddles, and trees available. But it was in this innocent playing with rocks that Tiernan uncovered the scorpion. At the time, we were a good hour hike from our car, and medical help was goodness knows how much further away. What if next time he finds a rattlesnake?

What mistakes is okay to let them make? Is it my job to prevent catastrophes? How much should potential danger limit our activities?