strange new title

I changed the title of my blog. When I made this blog, however long ago, I agonized over the grueling task of formulating some interesting, catchy, witty title. In hind sight, that was dumb. Alas, the desire to appear cooler than I am still dogs me.

I've been reading the book of Ruth quite a lot lately and I developed a new understanding and a deep love for one person I had mostly ignored before. Naomi. I had always thought of her as just the angry, bitter, old harpy in the background making cutting comments about life...which she is, in a way. But more than that, (oh, so much more!) she is brutally honest, sincere, transparent and real.

Naomi goes away from her homeland "full," to use her own words, and the Lord brings her back empty. Starvation, sickness, death and poverty strike at her all at once and like any human being, she is in anguish. Her soul is despairing over what the Lord has allowed to take place in her life. This is normal and I know I would be just as grief stricken as she if the Lord were to bring me into a dark valley such as that, but this is not what makes me appreciate Naomi.

What makes me want to throw my arms around her neck is her deep, sincere honesty. When she returns to her homeland a broken woman, she doesn't put on a brave face and falsely tell everyone, "Oh, I'm fine. It's a great day in the Lord! My husband and sons are dead. I am homeless and poverty stricken, but I'm doing fine." (I have come to hate that word "fine" but more on that later, if I remember.)

NO! Naomi tells her community, "I'm hurting! I'm angry! I'm bitter with the calamity that has befallen me!" But I have come to believe that her emotional tirade is not cursing God. I believe she is calling out for help. Instead of plastering a smile on her face and bleating mindless platitudes about the beauty of life and time healing all wounds, she gets real with the people in her life and cries out, "Help me! My burden is heavy. I'm drowning in my grief."

So this is where the change in blog title comes from...whether temporary or permanent. She tells her friends to call her Mara (which means bitter). Her sincerity shook my senses and caused my heart to melt for this dear woman. I don't actually want anyone to call me Mara, as if anyone even reads my incoherent ramblings, but it is the idea of total honesty with myself, my Jesus and my family and friends that I'm seeking to mimic from Naomi/Mara in my writings and my life.

Back to my loathing of "fine." What a bland, non-descriptive, fig leaf we have created to hide behind. Rather than sharing ourselves and our lives with those God has given us to walk through life with, we hide behind this neutered word "fine."

How are you?

I'm fine.

How is life?

Fine.

I heard your husband got laid off! I'm so sorry. How are you doing?

We're fine.

Blah! I'm the most guilty of all when it comes to the over/misuse of this word. I have to admit, I don't want to share myself with others. I've found my heart stays well protected behind the walls built from stones of detachment and the mortar of "fine" - until now I've never wanted to change my MO. I cannot claim I'll never do this again - I am thoroughly flawed - but I can say with confidence "fine" will leave a bitter taste in my mouth from here on out.

I'm not opinionated or anything.

A confession, an apology.

I haven't weathered this rough season of life well, at all.

My darling daughters, I have been distant and bitter with you both. Coping with the new challenges of Israel's Toddlerhood, Helen's intense desire to walk and explore everything coupled with the revolting all-day sickness of early pregnancy has left me physically exhausted. The fears of what life will be like with 3 infants age 2 years and younger has me terrified and emotionally drained. Instead of being content with the blessings God has (quite literally) piled on me, I have become embittered and resentful of the constant demands on my time.

I don't always feel like waking up early, fixing breakfast, cleaning up 2 messy babies and a messy kitchen only to turn around and do the same thing over again at lunch and dinner. I have come to possess an intense loathing for poopy diapers. This is mostly fueled by the fact pregnancy related sickness makes me vomit if I so much as catch a whiff of what dear Israel has named, "shtinkies." I have grown weary of the repetition, the lack of personal time, the reality that my time is in no way my own. I hate my inability to get all the chores done - the house always feels as though it teeters on the brink of falling into complete chaos. The laundry pile is insurmountable.

And as I reflect back on my long list of grievances against motherhood, I see how deeply self-centered I am. My time, my house, my rest, my peace, my picture-perfect clean home...

My dearest daughters, I beg your forgiveness at how I have squandered away the last 2 months of precious, precious (limited) time I have with you. My heart is breaking in light of my depraved selfishness. My soul longs to rewind the ever-progressing hands of time to try and retrieve the limited time I have wasted away with a bitter heart. My darlings, I am a deeply flawed woman. I pray you both can forgive your foolish mother, as I am sure to fall back into my sin every now and again.

You both are priceless treasures. I admire and adore you both and pray God gives me the grace necessary to find peace and contentment in Him. I still would never trade the immeasurable blessings of my amazing Israel or precious Helen - you 2 are my great rewards, which I don't deserve. And dearest Baby Nels, it's always been hard for me to feel joy during the "sick" phase of my pregnancies, but I still love you deeply. To be the blessed woman to bring your precious life into the world is an honor I do not deserve, yet cherished none the less.

Col 3:1-3