One Thing at a Time

"Stressed" defined my days. Sure, partly tiredness was creeping in and adding tension, but it was more than that. While I was taking care of the laundry and meals and such, I also had all of these projects in my head that I couldn't stop planning. I lamented my mere forty minutes a day (the length my daughter will sleep without me for her nap) in which I could sit down and knit, read, write, sew, etc., because I had so much more I wanted to do!

Then I read something in Jerry Bridges' Trusting God, the book my small group is going through this semester, about the stress we feel when we have two conflicting agendas (ours and God's) instead of one (God's). The passage seemed to fit what I was experiencing. I thought, I need to get rid of the extra agenda in my life and just focus on God's agenda for me.

But what does that look like? What is God's agenda?

I don't know exact details of God's plan for my life down to the minute, obviously, and I don't think we are even supposed to try to figure out "God's will" and wait around until He gives us some kind of grand sign telling us exactly what the next step is. No; I must take care of daily needs of myself and family, do the best I can to prayerfully thank God for what He provides, and cultivate a gracious attitude towards myself and the people around me.

While I may not know God's "agenda" for my life in a specific sense, here's one thing I know: I can only do one thing at a time. God made me a finite human being, capable of truly focusing well on any one given task. When I spend my energy imagining a multitude of tasks I can't reasonably accomplish in my allotted time, I'm being wasteful, and I'm not helping my attitude or my family. If instead I focus on enjoying the one thing that's been given me to do in the moment (read with my daughter) or that I choose to do in my free time (knit a soft grey hat), I feel happier, and I feel more of a sense of fulfillment in whatever I'm doing.

For the past week or so, I've been hearing "one thing at a time" running through my mind, and the simplified approach has helped my attitude and emotional state, even though my circumstances have not changed. I've felt more productive, even though I'm probably not actually doing any more than I would have had my attitude not shifted.

Praise God that He asks us for simple (though not always easy!) things:

"Mankind, He has told you what is good
and what it is the Lord requires of you:
to act justly,
to love faithfulness,
and to walk humbly with your God." (Micah 6:8)

Micah 6:8 describes God's agenda for me and for everyone. How the agenda works itself out in the day-to-day, well, I hope I'll answer that question one thing at a time.

Learning from Jane

I finished listening to Jane Eyre the other day. Jane (as I like to affectionately call it) is my favorite book, and every reading it seems I catch something new in it, usually based on where I am in life at the time. This listen proved no exception; in fact, two elements stood out to me this go around - one an exhortation, the other an encouragement. We all need both of those from time to time!

Lately I've been a complainer. Realistically, I've always been a complainer. My personality tends towards pessimism and at the same time perfectionism. The combination of straining for gold while seeing only dirt can lead me to voice a constant stream of negativity. My complaining doesn't help anyone in my family, and it might hurt me most of all, since I am not content when I'm complaining. Constant lack of contentment eats away at me so that I feel downcast when, objectively, there's nothing wrong. Indeed, I have much to be thankful for.

The exhortation from Jane came over the course of the whole book as I paid attention to the bones of her life. Partly determined by time in history, partly by her station, Jane's life is simple. She doesn't have the expectation that entertainment should always be available at her fingertips. She doesn't begrudge hard work, diligent study, or the consequences of her own actions. In each stage of her life, she is satisfied with sometimes menial, day-to-day tasks and fellowship with a few people whom she calls friends.

Where is my satisfaction with the little things? If I have a roof over my head, food to eat, clothes to wear, and a few people to love and care for, should I not be content? If I have daily chores to accomplish and can even find time in my schedule, however brief, for doing something merely for my own refreshment, should I not call myself blessed?

Jane's encouragement, like her exhortation, deals with contentment. Since having a baby and leaving my full-time job, I've struggled with feeling like some part of me is being wasted and - what's more frightening - might be wasting away. Daily care of a one-year-old is, simply put, boring. There's nothing particularly intellectually engaging about singing silly songs, reading simple books, and mopping up messes from the floor under the kitchen table. Sometimes I hear a nagging voice telling me that I'm missing something in life now that I have stepped away from the adult, productive world into a world of little things.

When Jane accepts a humble teaching position from Mr. Rivers, she steps into a world of little things compared with what she has known previously:

". . . I accept it with all my heart."

 "But you comprehend me?" he said. "It is a village-school: your scholars will be only poor girls . . . What will you do with your accomplishments? What, with the largest portion of your mind - sentiments - tastes?"

"Save them till they are wanted. They will keep."

They will keep. Those words reassure me as I wonder if my "former life" is all pointless now. When will I again need to use what I learned back then? Maybe never in the ways I was accustomed to before, but probably in some unexpected ways my previous learning and experience will come into play again. If nothing else, I know God made me for Himself and put those learning opportunities, talents, interests, and work experiences in my path and in my heart for many reasons, even if I don't know now what the reasons will be in the future.

As a stay-at-home mom, may I learn to be content with the simple things, be thankful for the beautiful blessings God sends my way every day (bubble baths, tickles and giggles, tiny adorable outfits on my little one), and trust that the place I am now is important. Whatever is most valuable that God has woven into the fabric of my life is still being developed right now, and if any part is "on hold," it will keep.

Paddling with My Head Out of the Water

I've been wanting to write about the "rest of the story" of my postpartum depression for a few months now, but this past week my husband spoke a catalyst for my ideas (not an uncommon occurrence!). He was encouraging me about my mothering abilities and he reminded me of something he'd predicted before our daughter was born: He'd said I would take to being a mom like a duck takes to water. However, he reflected, now I was finally paddling with my head out of the water, able to see around me, whereas for the first eight months or so, I had been swimming in the pond with my head under the water the whole time (still paddling away, being a good mom, just not really enjoying it much).

What a funny image, a duck paddling through a murky pond with its head continuously underwater. That is rather what life felt like in the months after little girl was born. Though I was functioning (albeit at minimal levels sometimes), everything seemed muddy, thick, and dark. Some of what I was feeling I put into an earlier post, and now it's time to tell what happened that brought my head out of the water.

Midway through February of this year I got a terrible stomach bug. This thing was more like a stomach giant squid. I was knocked out flat (literally flat on the floor or the bed most of the time) for a few days, and my mom had to come take care of little one so I could rest and recover and suck on ice chips. After almost a week of dehydration and exhaustion, I went to the doctor, thinking I was also having panic attacks (turns out I was probably dizzy from dehydration). This sickness is what finally drove me to go see a doctor about not only the physical illness, but the mental/psychological/emotional one I had been suffering as well. The week that I was temporarily unable to physically care for my daughter showed me I needed help in other areas, too!

On the way to the doctor and throughout those few days I had conversations with my husband, sister, parents, grandma, cousin, and life-long best friend, who all encouraged me that medication for anxiety or depression could be the solution I needed. I was finally ready to be willing to go down that path if necessary, whereas I had always fought against medication as an option before. One thing that scared me about it now was that I was breastfeeding my daughter and our nursing relationship was very important to me. I knew that if we had to stop it suddenly, there would be a whole new mess of emotions tangled up in the weaning.

After seeing the doctor, whom I'd never met before (with my sister there for moral support), and waiting for a referral to a psychologist, something happened. My mom and sister and I had been planning on driving about five hours up to our old home town to attend a friend's baby shower at the end of February. I'd been a wreck about it (since traveling with my daughter that far seemed like an impending catastrophe to me at the time). I ended up deciding not to go. Then, the day before the dreaded road trip, something in me clicked and I got our stuff together and headed to my mom's house to get ready to do the road trip. The four of us made it through the weekend. Lots of brick walls in my mind crumbled during that trip. Forced to be flexible, I saw that flexibility could actually work.

For a couple of weeks after the trip, what I can only describe as a mini miracle took place in my mind and emotions. It was like a switch had gone off in my brain (my husband agrees). I'm not sure if it was biological (diet change?), hormonal (always in flux!), or just plain supernatural (God is at work, after all!), but God allowed me to have positive thoughts and feelings about my daughter, our life, and myself. I cannot remember the last time I'd had such thoughts before that week. I cannot completely explain the kinds of thoughts I had, but they were like visions of the future that were memories at the same time. I envisioned slumber parties with my daughter where we would wear matching pajamas and watch movies. I saw Thanksgiving family gatherings for which we'd be baking and setting the table together. I felt warm feelings like the ones I feel during Christmastime (the highest praise coming from me - if anything is comparable to Christmas, in my mind, it's essentially the best it could possibly be). In short, I caught glimpses of the potential "warm fuzzies" in my family's future, and these insights changed my feelings for my daughter and for myself as a mom.

After a couple of weeks, the "feeling memories" stopped happening (they had been almost continuous for that time - an amazing gift from my Father!), but my changed emotional attitude remained. I was finally feeling more like myself again. A tired and sometimes bored out of my mind version of myself, but myself nonetheless, I was able to look about and see the beauty of the pond where I'm now swimming. And God allowed me to feel better without the aid of medication, so I was and am still able to breastfeed my daughter successfully and without concern. This little duck is still paddling, by God's grace!

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Note: From doing a bit of research I've learned there are some medications to alleviate depression that doctors prescribe to nursing mothers so they are able to continue nursing! When postpartum depression requires medication to help you get back to yourself, it's OK to get help in that way. God provides through medicines, too.