Posted in Celebration, Family, Marriage

we forgot. we remembered. we were nervous.

We forgot about those letters we penned to each other on a marriage retreat.

A whole year ago.

But here they were, two envelopes in our mailbox, our own scrawl written on the front.

Our brains did not compute. What were these? (we are getting a little older, mind you)

“Oh my goodness.” I chuckled to my husband, remembering vaguely what they might be. “These are the love letters we drafted at the end of that great weekend together.”

Both of us just stared at the white rectangles, postmarks scrawled at the top and bottom.

Normally, I would have ripped mine open.  But this time, not so much.

Instead, my heart skipped a beat and my nerves came out to play.

Same with my usually very calm-cool-and-collected husband.

What had we written to each other when the new life stage in front of us was brimming with possibility and hope, a year later, our lives on a seemingly never-ending hold?

What promises had we made to each other that we did not keep?
What goals had we set that we hadn’t even taken a step toward?
What vows to change did we share that might have been broken?

What words were inside, threatening to mock us?

Making some kind of off-hand excuses to each other, I took those two holders of secret messages and tucked them into my “inbox,” out of the way of our curious minds.  We were not ready.

We set aside a special time when we would open them together with quick promises not to judge the other.

A few days later, having donned our emotional armor, we apprehensively pulled out the small sheets with words scribbled all over them.

Silence.  A long one.
Knowing smiles.
A kiss.
Tears (mine).
“I love you(s).”
A long, long embrace.

Relief washed over us.

We hadn’t made empty promises.
We hadn’t barked a bunch of goals.
We hadn’t asked for the other to change in “no uncertain terms.”

What we HAD done was gently remind each other all the reasons we loved each other.  STILL.

We HAD called out the beauty we saw in the other.  STILL.

We HAD thanked each other for our so-far marriage adventure.  STILL.

We HAD stated the simple words, “I love you.”  STILL.

We HAD written that we were so excited to venture ahead into the unknown future together.  STILL.

The words were pure grace.  Just what we needed.

Given openly.
Given freely.
Given lovingly.

Today, I am officiating a wedding over Zoom, standing by our fireplace, with this man I love right by my side.
We are all gussied up for the first time in forever.

Another couple is just starting their very own marriage adventure.

Promises will be made.
Kisses will be given.
Words of love will be exchanged.

They don’t know what lies before them.  JUST LIKE US.
They see beauty in each other.  JUST LIKE US.
They are heading into an unknown future.  JUST LIKE US.
They are grateful for the other.  JUST LIKE US.
They are excited too.  JUST LIKE US.

They are doing it together.  JUST LIKE US.

I’ve asked this cute couple to write a letter to each other that I will send them a year from now.

Maybe we will write another one today that we will “send” to our future selves.

Maybe won’t be nervous wrecks when they appear in the big green box at the end of our driveway.

Maybe we will rip them open right away, devouring the grace we will need once again.

And again and again and again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Childhood, Faith, Family, Marriage, motherhood

The Ta-Da List

17,000,000. The number of apps to manage to-do lists.

TOP priority. Get ‘er done.

The feeling of accomplishment.

Promised peace at the end of the day when it’s all crossed off.

I was trained from a bitty girl to spend time at the day’s end confessing my sins out loud and asking God for forgiveness. “I’m sorry I lied.” “I’m sorry I said mean things to my friend.”

No matter how much good I had given to the world, my final thoughts as I said my bedtime prayers were how I had MESSED UP and what I had NOT done well and who I had offended (in many cases, this happened to be the God of the universe…yikes). NO peace for sure.

Fast-forward to my adult years. Same. Same. Same. Just different stuff. “I’m sorry I screamed at my kids.” “I’m sorry I took a too-long lunch at work.”

One night, my little rebellious self changed it up. “What did you do right today?” I quizzed my husband as we collapsed into bed after wrangling four kids into their beds.

Crickets………………….

More crickets……………………

“I smiled at the store clerk,” he mumbled at long last.

I shook my head. I knew he had probably been kind, sought justice, served those he worked with, treated everyone with dignity and respect, along with all the daunting tasks he had crossed off his “to-do” list.

Lightbulb moment!

Realizing how much of our day (and night) was taken up with negative thinking, we decided to make this a best practice in the moments before we fell into slumber. “What did you do right today?”

We still began our days with a “to-do” list, but we ended them with a “ta-da” list.

It was STILL NOT the peace we were looking for, but at least a step in the right direction.

Help came in the form of what usually happened right before we crawled into bed, wiped out from the day.

Most nights, the last thing on my never-ending “to-do” list was to slip into each of my kids’ rooms and just watch them sleep (something I still do from time-to-time, even though they are giants at this point).

No matter what had happened during the day, both good and bad, it didn’t seem to matter any more. I would just stand there, gazing at their cute little heads barely visible above their comforters, completely and utterly in love with them, happy.

Yes. Yes. This must be how God feels about us.

While the “to-do” lists and “ta-da” lists matter to us, they don’t seem to matter much to Him.

At BOTH the beginning and end of each day (regardless of either of those lists), he gently reminds us, “I will quiet you with my love. I will rejoice over you with singing.” (Zephaniah)

TRUE, UNADULTERATED PEACE.

Posted in Family, Marriage, Thanks

Nitpicking

“Why did you pack the dishwasher like that?”
“You left the light on.”
“Go to the doctor. You’ve got to stop the snoring.”

Nitpick.
Nitpick.
Nitpick.

I am definitely the queen of nitpicking. At my husband.

It’s so easy for me to find all the ways he just doesn’t do “it” right.
Or the way I think is right. Whatever “it” is.

It’s so stinkin’ easy.

It’s also so stinkin’ harmful.

It perpetuates shame.
It silently mocks, “I’m better than you.”
It is a destroyer of connection.

I don’t want to be the queen of this.

I just DO NOT.

I want to bring grace.
I want to build up.
I want to foster deep intimate connection.

I want to be an agent of healing.

So today, I will call out my husband.
I will yell for the world, and mostly myself, to hear.

“He folded all the laundry.”
“He walked me through a very hard conversation, bringing me much wisdom and guidance.”

And guess what else?!?

Guess what else?!?

“He cut these flowers from our garden and placed them right next to my bed!!”

It is so stinkin’ easy to find all the things that are wrong.

But it’s so much better to see all the things that are right.

#grateful

 

Posted in Marriage, Mental Health

Manly, Girly or Me

Screen Shot 2020-08-05 at 6.46.07 PMI got a leaf-blower for Christmas.

Not a girly, light leaf-blower.

A manly, heavy-duty, back-pack, professional leaf-blower.

Last fall, we moved to a house in the woods and there were lots of leaves once the trees said “goodbye for now” to their petals of yellow and orange.

Lots of leaves.  Everywhere.  Constantly.

Enough to jump in and be lost for days in a pile of them.

You get the point.

I begged my husband for said leaf-blower and when I opened my bright shiny Christmas package, I giggled with glee.  My kids nodded in amusement because they just know.

What do they know?

They know some out-of-the-box, but very cute things about me.  Okay, not so cute.  More out-of-the-box.  Or at least out-of-the-gender-culture-box.

I like those things about me.
I like them a lot.

I am who I am.

I am not super girly.  Or more true, what culture says girly is.

I like NFL football.
I like being physically strong.
I like spreading mulch.
I like feeling powerful.
I like taking care of myself. 

IMG_2405

I really like rescuing people.  In fact, I just did it this afternoon when my husband texted and said, “I have a flat tire.”

I like being a little manly.  Or more true, what culture says manly is.

I am who I am.

You know how parents get a lot of things wrong?

This is a BIG DEAL one that my parents GOT RIGHT!!

They never ever told me who I should be.  They let me be ME.  Fully.  Always.

If that meant being strong, so be it.
If that meant traveling alone in Europe at 21, so be it.
If that meant moving to North Dakota on a whim, so be it.
If that meant loving football, so be it.

Yesterday, we had a huge storm.  Leaves everywhere.  Branches down.  The yard was a mess.

Guess what I did?

I woke up and declared mightily, “I am going outside.  Where is the leaf-blower?”

You know how spouses get a lot of things wrong?

This is a BIG DEAL one that my spouse GETS RIGHT!!

He never tells me who I should be.  He lets me be ME.  Fully.  Always.

If that means spreading mulch, so be it.
If that means having a fantasy football team, so be it.
If that means rescuing him on the side of the road, so be it.
If that means taking a picture of me donning my leaf-blower, looking powerful, so be it.

(SIDE NOTE:  My hubs chuckled with admiration as he watched me…maybe he thought I was sexy with this giant backpack, conquering leaves and sticks and yard debris.  I sure thought he was sexy when I went back into the house and found out he made the bed.)

One last thing.

Sometimes, I am not so strong.
Sometimes, I need help.
Sometimes, I am a girly girl.  Or more true, what culture says girly is.
Sometimes, I can’t pull the throttle hard enough to turn a leaf-blower on.

Guess what my husband did?

My tall, flower-loving, bed-making, likes-to-shop-at-cute-little-shops partner still let me be ME.  Fully.  Always.

“Yes.”  He said, “I’ve got you.  I can turn that on for you.”

I am who I am.  Period.

Manly.  Girly.  Me.

P.S.  Our yard looks beautiful again.  Driveways clear.  Walkways clean.  Sticks gone.  Leaves blown.  Yup.

Manly.  Girly.  Me.

 

Posted in Anxiety, Faith, Family, Grief, Marriage, Mental Health, motherhood

Which Voice Am I Listening To?

WHICH VOICE AM I LISTENING TO?

Inner Critic:  “You cannot stay on a workout regimen save your life.”

Inner Cheerleader:  “Start with 15 minutes again tomorrow.  You’ve done it before .  You can do it again. ”

Inner Critic:  “Your friends are probably so angry with you because you are not checking in with them as much as you used to.  It’s your fault if they don’t stick around.”

Inner Cheerleader:  “You have had to narrow down how much you are pouring out into people for your own well-being.  You’ve done that so that you can be a better friend.”

Inner Critic:  “You should NOT spend so much at the grocery store.  You need to stick to a list.”

Inner Cheerleader:  “It costs just a bit more to eat healthy, which has been a goal for you and your family.  Keep up the good work!”

Inner Critic:  “I can’t believe you are so racist?”

Inner Cheerleader:  “You are learning to listen to those who are not like you.  You will grow and change.  You always have.”

Inner Critic:  “Why do you tell people you have a good marriage?  You just had another fight with your husband.”

Inner Cheerleader:  “Look how far you have come from the early days.  You’ve seen how sometimes conflict brings closeness.  You have helped so many other couples because you can admit you struggle too.”

Inner Critic:  “You will never get to those boxes in the basement that need to be organized.”

Inner Cheerleader:  “You have been sorting through many things in your life, not all of them visible to the outside world.   You will get to it when you are ready.”

Inner Critic:  “You know that cookie you ate?  You blew it again.”

Inner Cheerleader:  “You know that cookie you ate?  Good for you for showing yourself it’s not about perfection, but about grace.”

Inner Critic:  “You didn’t set good boundaries again with your kids.  When will you get this right?”

Inner Cheerleader:  “Being a mom is a hard job, no matter how old your kids are.  Boundaries are tricky and complicated and you are really doing what you think is right in each different situation.  Also, you are really good at saying you are sorry when you blow it.”

Inner Critic:  “Why do you even bother to give advice?  To share your heart?  To try to make a difference?”

Inner Cheerleader:  “You don’t do it because you have it all together.  You do it because you are broken too and it’s in this broken place that we all heal each other.”

WHICH VOICE HEAPS SHAME AND DESTROYS?
WHICH VOICE WHISPERS GRACE AND BRINGS HEALING?

WHICH VOICE AM I LISTENING TO?

 

 

 

 

Posted in Anxiety, Faith, Marriage

2:30 AM

Why am I awake again?

Maybe it was that cookie.

Why did I eat that cookie at 9:30?

Sugar is not good for me that late.

It’s not the cookie.

There’s a lot to think about, and even more to worry about.

Who can sleep?

God’s got me.
I’m going to be okay.
Will I ever feel normal again?
The world is just not okay.
I can’t solve it.
I wish I could.
God can solve it.
Can He?
I can do my part.
What is my part?
I need to go back to sleep.
I’m going to be a mess in the morning.
I guess I should pray for someone else who is awake.
God, please bring peace to my friend who is super anxious and not able to sleep.
Wait a minute.
I am also super anxious.
My leg itches.
Why does my leg itch?
I hope I didn’t get poison ivy on our 400th hike.
Should I get up and check?
No. That will just make me more awake.
Try to go back to sleep.
It’s probably nothing.
I wonder why my husband doesn’t have any issue sleeping.
He’s very sweet, but it’s still really annoying.
I’ve been kind of a cranky in the house the last few months.
Well, duh. I’m not getting good sleep.
But I should try harder tomorrow.
Maybe if I turn over and face the other direction, I will be able to go back to sleep.
That light from outside is still on.
Should I get up and turn it off?
It’s just wasting electricity and we’re trying to save money every which way we can.
That reminds me. I have to call the electrician to fix our light fixture.
But maybe that should wait.
We are in the middle of a pandemic.
Stop being so ridiculous.
What are the chances of the electrician infecting me?
I can just leave the house and then Lysol spray everything he touches.
I hope Lysol wipes will finally get back in stock somewhere.
This pillow is just not comfortable.
God, can you please help me to get back to sleep.
There are a lot of people who don’t even have a bed.
I should be so thankful.
What is wrong with me?
I have everything I need.
What is wrong with me?
There I go again, heaping shame on myself. UGH.
I need to listen to that podcast on healing from shame tomorrow.
Am I ever going to be really okay?
Yes. I’m going to be okay.
I’m safe in God’s hands.
Nothing can happen to me that He won’t be with me.
That’s the truth.
I’m hanging on to that.
Maybe now I can actually go back to sleep.
Uh-oh. I have to pee.
Posted in Childhood, Faith, Family, Friendship, Grandparenthood, Marriage, Mental Health, motherhood, Thanks

I LOVE PEOPLE

I LOVE PEOPLE.
This whole pandemic has made me love them more.
My head shakes in wonder at their CREATIVITY.  Father/daughter duets from their family room.  Healing poems. Whole choirs singing via Zoom. Art classes online. Entire educational systems and their staff STILL teaching the next generation. Faith communities having services in cars, online, complete with music, prayer and words of encouragement.
I LOVE PEOPLE.
My heart bursts at their KINDNESS. Masks for strangers. Pizza ordered for weary hospital staff. Phone calls to the elderly. Smiles and “thank yous” dispensed across lawns and continents. Lysol wipes distributed to friends.  Round-the-clock prayers on behalf of the suffering.  KINDNESS.
I LOVE PEOPLE.
My mind boggles at their sense of HUMOR. Silly memes on social media. Comedy shows streamed free. Toilet paper jokes at family dinners. Videos that almost make me pee my pants. Hope disguised as laughter, the best medicine to cheer our hearts. HUMOR.
I LOVE PEOPLE.
My ‘fraidy-cat-self marvels at their BRAVERY. Medical personnel on the front lines. Small business owners fighting for their workers. Relief workers serving the marginalized. Delivery people handling packages from who knows where. Struggling patients clinging to the hope of going home. BRAVERY.
I LOVE PEOPLE.
My soul is enraptured by their GENEROSITY. Neighbors dropping hand-sanitizer in each other’s mailboxes. Donations (small and great) to food pantries. Countries sending medical supplies to each other. Firemen creating birthday parades. Moms and dads forgoing much-needed sleep for confused littles. GENEROSITY.
I LOVE PEOPLE.
My “hope-to-be-like-them” is fascinated by their WISDOM. Leaders navigating the nuances between freedom and safety. Podcasts generated by grief experts. Produce stands quickly figuring out “curb-side pickup.” Online counseling sessions to work through mental health issues. Texts between friends with comforting words.  WISDOM.
I LOVE PEOPLE.
My entire being is captured by their LOVE. Creative date nights planned by spouses. Video “chats” between grandmas and toddlers. Grocery store runs for the fearful and the shut-in. Parents wrapping arms and hearts around sad school-lovers. Teenagers forgoing freedom to protect the vulnerable. LOVE. LOVE. LOVE.
HAVE I SAID HOW MUCH I LOVE PEOPLE? I LOVE US.
We aren’t perfect and we are making lots of mistakes as we hobble down a path we’ve never encountered before, but I think we are doing just fine. We are learning and growing together in ways that will make us more CREATIVE, KINDER, FUNNIER, BRAVER, more GENEROUS, WISER, and better able to LOVE than ever before.
Hang in there, my friends! I’m hanging with you. We have GREAT HOPE!
Posted in Faith, Family, Friendship, Marriage, motherhood

The Place Where Love’s Root Can Dig Deep

“Like what I like.”
“Think how I think.”
“Do what I do (and how I do it).”
“Be who I am.”

For years, this was my life’s mantra.

Husband. Kids. Friends. Coworkers. Strangers.

“Make decisions quickly.”
“Enjoy watching football.”
“Be an extrovert.”
“Believe every doctrine I espouse about God.”

On and on the list went, my goal to transform everyone into the spitting image of myself. It wasn’t ill-intentioned, but it was just plain old yuck (for lack of a better word).

I was missing out on the beauty of diversity and the celebration of our mutual differentness.

What a gift when the “scales” fell off my eyes and I could see the truth of this crucial life lesson: these people are NOT me NOR should they be.

WHAT A GIFT of the OTHER!!

It’s where life can be truly enjoyed in all its fullness.

It’s where love’s root can dig deep and blossom into a bouquet of grace.

*********************************

It means discovering the life-giving rhythms of silence and solitude from my introvert husband. (This Esthergizer Bunny needs these desperately.)

It means processing math lessons with my teacher daughter, along with unearthing the compassion she has for the struggling student, allowing for my own heart to come alive in ways I would never have known on my own.

It means hearing stories about the latest sales strategies from my second-born and possibly implementing them into my own little life’s goals of writing.

It means asking (and then actually listening to the response) about the latest headphones on the market from my tech-savvy recent college graduate. (The current sound system in our family room is to die for.)

It means getting a late-night text from my California-dreaming daughter about how her dreams are coming true, which means mine are too.

It means allowing each of my friends to be perfectly themselves, right where they are, without an agenda in my back pocket. They bring gifts every single time I am with them, gifts I would never receive if they were just like me.

It means leaning in and learning from all of you beautiful souls who are so incredibly different from me. I thank God for YOU!

*********************************

“Like what YOU like.
“Think how YOU think.”
“Do what YOU do (and how YOU do it).”
“Be who YOU are.”

I will be much richer and fuller and happier because of YOU.

Posted in Family, Grief, Marriage

Broken Together

THIS HUSBAND OF MINE…

A man who with impeccable integrity.

A man who wants to be liked by all.

A man who gives his all until the end.

A man who wants peace (sometimes at all costs).

A man who keeps getting help.

A man who struggles to stay engaged.

A man who is kind.

A man who wrestles with anxiety.

A man who keeps fighting for healing.

A man who is broken in many ways.

 

THIS WIFE OF HIS…

A woman who loves fiercely.

A woman whose self-worth is often based on her performance.

A woman who wants others to have undeniable hope.

A woman who judges harshly (at times).

A woman who keeps getting help.

A woman who struggles with maintaining good boundaries.

A woman who is generous.

A woman who wrestles with anxiety.

A woman who keeps fighting for healing.

A woman who is broken in many ways.

 

THIS MARRIAGE OF OURS…

Two who love when it’s especially hard.

Two who hurt the other (even on purpose).

Two who muster up grace and forgiveness.

Two who judge and criticize little things even when we’ve vowed not to.

Two who voice our deepest fears to the other’s listening heart.

Two who keep trying to change the other.

Two who make space for the beautiful and the messy.

Two who share an unshakable faith in the Lover of their souls.

Two who keep fighting for healing.

Two who are broken in many ways.

 

BUT…

WE ARE NOT BROKEN ALONE.  THAT WOULD BE OUR UNDOING.

WE ARE BROKEN TOGETHER. 

STAYING TOGETHER. 

HEALING TOGETHER.

 


(Inspired by my friends at I Do Part Two and the song, BROKEN TOGETHER, by Casting Crowns.

 

Posted in Celebration, Childhood, Family, Friendship, Grandparenthood, Marriage, motherhood, Thanks

14 Straight Days

After 14 straight days, the Holiday Hoopla has come to an end. The annual “Goetz Games” have had their closing ceremony.
It’s been…
14 straight days of guests in the form of adult kids, significant others, a super busy toddler, cousins, uncles, and friends.
14 straight days of mayhem in the form of playing games, opening presents, chopping wood, dirty dishes, scattered toys, endless grocery store runs, sleepless nights (with said toddler), and trying to keep the puppy from escaping with all the doors opening and closing.
14 straight days of meals in the form of take-out, home-cooked, half-baked, childhood favorites, too many carbs, cookies for breakfast, and New Jersey Taylor ham, egg and cheese on everything bagels no matter what time of day.
14 straight days of skirmishes in the form of toddlers kicking puppies and puppies nipping at toddlers, couples struggling to find time to connect and getting a little annoyed with each other, family feuds about past Christmas traditions (“did we always go to the movies on Christmas Eve?”), and fun-loving, game-playing conflict about rules and all the lovely that comes along with playing Code Names.
ALL THIS TO SAY, I’M EXHAUSTED.
BUT, it’s ALSO been…
14 straight days of hugs.
14 straight days of “I love you’s.”
14 straight days of laughter.
14 straight days of “thank you’s.”
14 straight days of connection.
14 straight days of memories.
ALL THIS TO SAY, I’M BEYOND GRATEFUL.
#bothand #exhaustedandgrateful #holidayhoopla #ineedanap