Well, it's 4:30am, and I've been up for an hour.
So, naturally, I should blog, right? Oh boy, this could be dangerous. I'm gonna warn you, I'm on a little bit of a soap box.
I just finished reading an article entitled "...because I'm a twentysomething." Go read it. Not because I agree with it, but because it really represents a lot of what I hear from my peers and those younger than me. It's the thinking that is going to shape our society if we're not careful.
It was a fun blog about not letting cultural expectations of what you should be doing at your age define what you think you need to be doing at your age. Have a "big girl job" but don't be bogged down by that big girl job. Get married. Or don't. Have kids. Or don't. And then when you're forty, fall in love all over again (with a child, a new friend, or a partner).
Got all that?
This sounds pretty good. Until you break it down and realize it's all romanticized and ultimately can lead to shirking responsibility and letting go of things that "no longer serve you." It's ok to think about your twenties as a glass-half-full kind of time, but don't let that lead you to living selfishly. Choose to quit your job and go back to school if that's the wise thing to do. But don't shy away from commitment, responsibilities, etc. just because you feel stifled by fitting the mold.
Here's the surprising thing: by sticking by your commitments, you may find out that finding contentment in the regular, every day humdrum of doing dishes, folding laundry, and working at your "big girl job" is actually quite fulfilling. But you have to chose to find contentment in it. The attitude encouraged in this article only leads people to do things like what Julia Roberts character did in Eat Pray Love. She "had everything a modern woman is supposed to dream of having - a husband, a house, a successful career - yet like so many others, she found herself lost, confused, and searching for what she really wanted in life." This line has always made me sad. Not because I feel bad for her that maybe she didn't have a perfect husband or perfect kids or a perfect job, but because I am sad she never CHOSE to find contentment in any part of her wonderfully imperfect life. Now, I'm going to admit I haven't actually seen the movie. The concept of it makes me mad, because at the time it came out I knew far too many women who did what she did - left their families to "go find themselves." They left destruction in their wake. So, I didn't go see it. So, I'm sorry (or maybe I'm not) if I just messed all over your favorite movie. Just think about it for more than 30 seconds. If she was someone you knew - maybe a friend or close relative - would you still find it so charming that she deserted everything and everyone she knew because she didn't want to be tied down and was bored with her overly-privileged life?
The funny thing about this whole "I'm whatever age I am so I can make my own life and do things outside of the norm and buy a plane ticket to Paris" mentality is this: It takes (a lot of) money to live this way, and living this way will eventually get really old really fast.
Paris will get lonely if you don't speak French, run out of money, and get bored with snobby Parisian chefs.
Ending "a relationship that no longer serves you," sounds like the right thing to do until you realize relationships were never meant just to serve you. They were meant to grow you. Sometimes when people take this advice, they leave their well-meaning, good-intentioned, hard-working husband in the dust. (Now, if "no longer serves you" means it's abusive, get out and get help.) If "no longer serves you" just means it doesn't meet your fanciful, romanticized expectation of what you thought being with Prince Charming would look like when you grew up, then you need to do just that: grow up.
I have no critique of her advice to drink tea and read lots of books. Do those things. And never stop doing them.
Saying "goodbye to all the things that have kept you stagnant," could be good. Or it could be really destructive and leave you and many others with a lot of regrets. Make sure you seek enough wisdom from older, wiser people to know the difference.
Here's my advice:
In your twentysomethings or at any age:
Don't shy away from commitment because it looks scary or feels like it might bog you down. When I was 21 and a senior in college I didn't know if I ever wanted to get married or have kids. I got married at 23 and had my first baby at 25. Those were the best 2 days of my life, and I'm thankful every day (even on the hard days) for those two crazy wonderful people in my life. Right after graduation, I took a "big girl job" rather than going to grad school. I got paid a decent wage to work at the best job I've ever had in my life. I worked with high school and middle school kids. It wasn't glamorous. It was self-sacrificing. I didn't spend my Friday nights at the club or downtown or with people my age. I don't regret a second of it. It made me the person I am today.
I'm not tooting my own horn. I'm standing on a soapbox saying "please, please don't shy away from things just because they seem boring, normal, or not adventurous enough." This is what I love about the movie "UP." In the movie, Ellie dies and leaves her husband a note that says "thanks for the adventure..." I remember seeing that the first time (bawling my eyes out) thinking nothing of it because it was so emotional. But if you think about it, they didn't DO anything to speak of. They were married for a long time. They lost a child. They lived a normal, everyday life. And it WAS an adventure. It reminds me of my grandparents and my parents. Normal, boring lives that really weren't/aren't boring at all. They've created and invested in a lasting legacy of people (me and all my siblings and cousins). Over the years, they've done a few cool things, but they haven't traveled the world. They have invested their lives in what matters. And I'm pretty sure they don't regret a second of it.
If you're single, I know I've talked a lot about things that apply to married people (and I understand the original blog post was written by a single girl), but this is for you as equally as it is for the married people. Commit to something worthwhile. Volunteer. Help your family. Adopt a grandparent at a local nursing home. Be a big brother or big sister to a kid who needs it. Don't use your single twentysomething or thirtysomething years for yourself. And when someone comes along that you might just maybe want to share a really amazing, mundane, everyday-for-the-rest-of-your-life adventure with, dive in. Give it all you've got and then some. On the hard days, remember how sweet and worthwhile your relationship really is. Remember the vows you made when you got married and how serious they are. Remember that being bound to a commitment isn't a bad thing just because the word "bound" is in that sentence.
...because I'm twentysomething, I choose contentment in mundane, wonderful things. Make that your mantra. It will change you and your perspective on what you need, deserve, and have to offer.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Saturday, July 27, 2013
90 days 'til 30
I met him when I was 18 and he was 21. He doesn't even remember meeting me. I didn't really care one way or the other about him that day, but now he's the best husband to me and daddy to our son that I could ever have asked for. This morning, he texted me this:
I remember his 23rd birthday when I made him cookies. That's back when I thought 23 was old. I don't know if I really think anything is old anymore.
But the point of this blog isn't to talk about age or to be overly nostalgic. It is to plainly say that the last 8.5 years of my life have been increasingly blessed by Andrew Pritchett. I guess it's a toast, of sorts, to my husband.
When we were "just friends," he was fun, loyal, and dependable. Now, he is those things and more. He daily fulfills Ephesians 5 and the vows he made on our wedding day.
"Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her..."
Andrew isn't perfect, but he is such a wonderful example of this command.
He gives himself up for me every morning when he goes to work and provides for us.
He gives himself up for me when I'm sick and look awful and he holds me and tells me I'm not gross -that, in fact, I am his wife and I am beautiful.
He gives himself up for me when the day is over and I'm exhausted and I still have dishes to do, but he sends me to bed and does them for me.
He gives himself up for me when I'm acting in sin and he patiently points me back to the Gospel.
He gives himself up for me when he acts in sin but humbly repents and asks my forgiveness.
He gives himself up for me when I'm sad and he gets up from his pile of papers and books to hold me.
He gives himself up for me when he comes home and sits with me on the couch and we're just together.
He gives himself up for me on Jamocha day at Goodberry's when he tells me to go get myself some frozen custard just because I love it.
He gives himself up for me when he watches basketball for the entire month of March with me even though he really doesn't like it that much.
He gives himself up for me when he cares for Bram so I can go have coffee and read a book in peace.
The list could go on...
Andrew, here's to you and the blessing you are to me and so many. Your friendship, your loyalty, your self-sacrifice, your love for others, your sense of humor, your dedication and integrity have been blessing me for many years. Here's to many more.
I love you.
"The countdown begins. 90 days and I'm 30."
He cannot WAIT.
I'm not kidding; he was born to be an old man.
(not that I think 30 is old)
I remember his 23rd birthday when I made him cookies. That's back when I thought 23 was old. I don't know if I really think anything is old anymore.
But the point of this blog isn't to talk about age or to be overly nostalgic. It is to plainly say that the last 8.5 years of my life have been increasingly blessed by Andrew Pritchett. I guess it's a toast, of sorts, to my husband.
When we were "just friends," he was fun, loyal, and dependable. Now, he is those things and more. He daily fulfills Ephesians 5 and the vows he made on our wedding day.
"Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her..."
Andrew isn't perfect, but he is such a wonderful example of this command.
He gives himself up for me every morning when he goes to work and provides for us.
He gives himself up for me when I'm sick and look awful and he holds me and tells me I'm not gross -that, in fact, I am his wife and I am beautiful.
He gives himself up for me when the day is over and I'm exhausted and I still have dishes to do, but he sends me to bed and does them for me.
He gives himself up for me when I'm acting in sin and he patiently points me back to the Gospel.
He gives himself up for me when he acts in sin but humbly repents and asks my forgiveness.
He gives himself up for me when I'm sad and he gets up from his pile of papers and books to hold me.
He gives himself up for me when he comes home and sits with me on the couch and we're just together.
He gives himself up for me on Jamocha day at Goodberry's when he tells me to go get myself some frozen custard just because I love it.
He gives himself up for me when he watches basketball for the entire month of March with me even though he really doesn't like it that much.
He gives himself up for me when he cares for Bram so I can go have coffee and read a book in peace.
The list could go on...
So, 90 days before your 30th, I want to raise a glass to my friend and wonderful husband.
I love you.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Remember the waiting mamas & daddies
This blog has been a long, long time coming. As of today, it's been about 2 1/2 years in the making.
Before you keep reading, please don't read this and feel sorry for me or anyone. Just read it, and if necessary, make changes in your life to be more sensitive.
In December 2010, Andrew & I lost our first baby. Many, many of you don't know this. We don't know how long I was pregnant - probably not long, because of my hormone levels. We were shocked by our pregnancy (only having been married 5 months at that point and planning to wait several years for children) but also really grateful for the life that was growing inside of me. We told our parents, best friends, and that was about it. I was bleeding so we wanted that to settle down before we started making any big announcements. It didn't settle down. I was in ER one day after we confirmed the pregnancy. They were pretty sure I was miscarrying the baby but sent me home to rest for a day before we would know for sure. The doctors confirmed it 2 days later. 2 days before Christmas. God poured grace upon grace on us that Christmas. Andrew & I spent it alone in our sweet little apartment. We cried together, and we grew closer. It snowed late that night, meaning Andrew had one more day off of work and could stay to support me. Like I said, grace upon grace.
I am sharing this for two reasons. Reason #1 is because after losing our baby, it seemed to me that most people around me had an easy time with pregnancy. The more I've been open with people about my miscarriage, the more I've found that to be untrue, and the more comfort I've been able to offer to and receive from other women.
Reason #2 is my main reason for this post. We, as a culture, need to be more sensitive in this specific area.
Losing our baby was the hardest thing we've experienced. We wouldn't wish it on our worst enemy. Unfortunately, the pain of miscarriage, infertility, or just waiting a lot longer than expected for children has been experienced by many of our dear friends. But I'm not writing this so anyone can feel sorry for me or my friends. I'm writing it because in the social-media/technology crazy world we live in, it is easier than ever to be insensitive to people - in this case, waiting mamas (and daddies -I write about mamas most because Mother's Day is coming up and because I'm a girl, so I track with the emotions of mamas more easily).
Whether she's a woman who lost a baby, who is dealing with infertility, who is waiting for her spouse to be ready, who is waiting for a spouse so they can one day have a family together, or who is waiting to adopt a baby, you know her. You may not realize you know her, but even if we just consider miscarriages alone, 1 in 4 pregnancies ends this way -- With a crushed hope, and a waiting mama. And unfortunately, facebook and social media in general is brutal to these women. Every other person seems to be having a baby and posting pictures. There's nothing wrong with that. During my pregnancy with Bram, we posted pictures - for friends and family far away. We should celebrate together, through the pain of waiting and loss. But here's what makes it hard, sometimes impossible, for the waiting mama to celebrate: complaining & careless comments.
Parenthood is hard. From the morning sickness to the nasty diapers to the stomach bug (which poor Bram is dealing with today), it truly is hard. But more than that, it's a treasure. It is so very, very rewarding. For mamas (and daddies) who have their babies here to hug and kiss, don't take that for granted. Don't post that status about how you "just wish this pregnancy would be over already so you wouldn't feel so sick." Hundreds of women would throw up every minute if they had to in order to bear a child. Don't post that complaint about how your child is acting today. So many women wish they had a child - even a child who didn't always behave.
For women (or men) who can't imagine being parents or wanting kids at all, try to at least imagine losing something you hold dear - something you always hoped for and dreamed of, not coming to fruition. Then, remember that's how it is for some of your friends who are waiting for children. And be sensitive to them. Don't ask when they're going to start having kids - maybe they've been trying for years. Or maybe the reason they tried to get pregnant so soon after getting married is because their chances for conception were low. Don't mock. Don't make motherhood or parenthood sound like the end of someone's life. When I was pregnant with Bram, several people made comments like "better you than me" or "he wasn't planned, was he?" or "watch out - you'll never sleep again." Little did they know, we treasured every day of my pregnancy and were simply grateful that Bram was healthy. I'm not mad or bitter at these people, but I've used the painful comments to remind myself to be more sensitive.
Obviously, we have to have grace when people say hurtful things unknowingly; however, wouldn't it be great if we could comfort one another rather than giving our friends one more comment to pour grace on. Rather than being the next pregnant friend on facebook that a waiting mama has to unfriend because of your constant complaints, why not be the sensitive friend who helps heal the wounds by being thankful - not bragging, just being thankful? Rather than faking a pregnancy for a good April Fools joke, pray for people who would never joke about pregnancy because the pain is too real. Or, if you're the older friend who never experienced difficulty in bearing children, be aware & sensitive enough to be gentle in your comments and not to ask prodding questions of a young couple about when they will start trying for their first or next child. Maybe they already are and are waiting.
I know I don't always get this right - even as someone who has lost a child. I'm sure I've said something hurtful to a waiting parent at some point. But if we make it our goal to be sensitive, to have a spirit of thankfulness for the children we have, a heart that treasures children (whether our own or not), and a spirit of support for the parents we know, fewer hurtful comments will need grace poured on them.
So, as Mother's Day weekend approaches, I'm praying for waiting mamas and daddies. Pray with me, and make an effort to be more sensitive, more caring in your comments - on social media or in-person.
Oh - and if you're going to be leading any kind of gathering at which mothers will be honored, be careful. Read this: http://messymiddle.wordpress.com/2012/05/10/an-open-letter-to-pastors-a-non-mom-speaks-about-mothers-day/
Before you keep reading, please don't read this and feel sorry for me or anyone. Just read it, and if necessary, make changes in your life to be more sensitive.
In December 2010, Andrew & I lost our first baby. Many, many of you don't know this. We don't know how long I was pregnant - probably not long, because of my hormone levels. We were shocked by our pregnancy (only having been married 5 months at that point and planning to wait several years for children) but also really grateful for the life that was growing inside of me. We told our parents, best friends, and that was about it. I was bleeding so we wanted that to settle down before we started making any big announcements. It didn't settle down. I was in ER one day after we confirmed the pregnancy. They were pretty sure I was miscarrying the baby but sent me home to rest for a day before we would know for sure. The doctors confirmed it 2 days later. 2 days before Christmas. God poured grace upon grace on us that Christmas. Andrew & I spent it alone in our sweet little apartment. We cried together, and we grew closer. It snowed late that night, meaning Andrew had one more day off of work and could stay to support me. Like I said, grace upon grace.
I am sharing this for two reasons. Reason #1 is because after losing our baby, it seemed to me that most people around me had an easy time with pregnancy. The more I've been open with people about my miscarriage, the more I've found that to be untrue, and the more comfort I've been able to offer to and receive from other women.
Reason #2 is my main reason for this post. We, as a culture, need to be more sensitive in this specific area.
Losing our baby was the hardest thing we've experienced. We wouldn't wish it on our worst enemy. Unfortunately, the pain of miscarriage, infertility, or just waiting a lot longer than expected for children has been experienced by many of our dear friends. But I'm not writing this so anyone can feel sorry for me or my friends. I'm writing it because in the social-media/technology crazy world we live in, it is easier than ever to be insensitive to people - in this case, waiting mamas (and daddies -I write about mamas most because Mother's Day is coming up and because I'm a girl, so I track with the emotions of mamas more easily).
Whether she's a woman who lost a baby, who is dealing with infertility, who is waiting for her spouse to be ready, who is waiting for a spouse so they can one day have a family together, or who is waiting to adopt a baby, you know her. You may not realize you know her, but even if we just consider miscarriages alone, 1 in 4 pregnancies ends this way -- With a crushed hope, and a waiting mama. And unfortunately, facebook and social media in general is brutal to these women. Every other person seems to be having a baby and posting pictures. There's nothing wrong with that. During my pregnancy with Bram, we posted pictures - for friends and family far away. We should celebrate together, through the pain of waiting and loss. But here's what makes it hard, sometimes impossible, for the waiting mama to celebrate: complaining & careless comments.
Parenthood is hard. From the morning sickness to the nasty diapers to the stomach bug (which poor Bram is dealing with today), it truly is hard. But more than that, it's a treasure. It is so very, very rewarding. For mamas (and daddies) who have their babies here to hug and kiss, don't take that for granted. Don't post that status about how you "just wish this pregnancy would be over already so you wouldn't feel so sick." Hundreds of women would throw up every minute if they had to in order to bear a child. Don't post that complaint about how your child is acting today. So many women wish they had a child - even a child who didn't always behave.
For women (or men) who can't imagine being parents or wanting kids at all, try to at least imagine losing something you hold dear - something you always hoped for and dreamed of, not coming to fruition. Then, remember that's how it is for some of your friends who are waiting for children. And be sensitive to them. Don't ask when they're going to start having kids - maybe they've been trying for years. Or maybe the reason they tried to get pregnant so soon after getting married is because their chances for conception were low. Don't mock. Don't make motherhood or parenthood sound like the end of someone's life. When I was pregnant with Bram, several people made comments like "better you than me" or "he wasn't planned, was he?" or "watch out - you'll never sleep again." Little did they know, we treasured every day of my pregnancy and were simply grateful that Bram was healthy. I'm not mad or bitter at these people, but I've used the painful comments to remind myself to be more sensitive.
Obviously, we have to have grace when people say hurtful things unknowingly; however, wouldn't it be great if we could comfort one another rather than giving our friends one more comment to pour grace on. Rather than being the next pregnant friend on facebook that a waiting mama has to unfriend because of your constant complaints, why not be the sensitive friend who helps heal the wounds by being thankful - not bragging, just being thankful? Rather than faking a pregnancy for a good April Fools joke, pray for people who would never joke about pregnancy because the pain is too real. Or, if you're the older friend who never experienced difficulty in bearing children, be aware & sensitive enough to be gentle in your comments and not to ask prodding questions of a young couple about when they will start trying for their first or next child. Maybe they already are and are waiting.
I know I don't always get this right - even as someone who has lost a child. I'm sure I've said something hurtful to a waiting parent at some point. But if we make it our goal to be sensitive, to have a spirit of thankfulness for the children we have, a heart that treasures children (whether our own or not), and a spirit of support for the parents we know, fewer hurtful comments will need grace poured on them.
So, as Mother's Day weekend approaches, I'm praying for waiting mamas and daddies. Pray with me, and make an effort to be more sensitive, more caring in your comments - on social media or in-person.
Oh - and if you're going to be leading any kind of gathering at which mothers will be honored, be careful. Read this: http://messymiddle.wordpress.com/2012/05/10/an-open-letter-to-pastors-a-non-mom-speaks-about-mothers-day/
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