Purging

This will be my fourth move since 2007. I realized this the other night before drifting off to sleep.  In these last five years I have, moved, provided home daycare, separated, went back to work as a teacher, divorced, moved to an apartment, met my husband, married, moved, and joined two families, quit teaching, and now am packing to move once again.

This is not just a purging week for me. It has been a purging month.  I have made at least four trips to the Goodwill, and I have another pile next to the door.

Make no mistake about it, I am a purger by nature and actually am thrilled to regularly look through my closets, bookshelves, and other hiding places to rid myself of items no longer cherished or needed.  But this purging is a little different.  Because after you finish the initial sweep to eradicate unwanted items and pack a box or two, you realize that there is actually more stuff still lurking, some of it awkwardly shaped items that you have no idea how to pack, some of it items belonging to your husband of uncertain identity and usefulness.  Just when you think you are finished, something else creeps up that must be dealt with properly.

It is somewhat like that point in time when you stop just being angry at someone else and start to deal with your own “stuff” that has put you in a difficult place to begin with.  Layer upon layer of hurts and lies-believed-truths must be faced and dealt with.  It’s when your spouse or friend says or does something that triggers the wound-buried-deep-thought-forgiven-and-forgotten.  “Oh, you’re still there?”  And it takes a great deal of perseverance to continue to address the issues and hurts that arise as you walk through life because it’s really easier just to fill the time with something else—anything, really, that will keep you from having to actually deal with what is inside you.

We pack this “stuff” deep into the hiding places of our hearts, so it will never see the light of day.  But light is exactly what it needs to see.  To see the light of God’s healing Truth which robs the lie of any power it once held.  Lain at the feet of Jesus, our insecurities, fears, and sins don’t matter.  We can give them away to one who washes us clean and heals our brokenness.

What lies have you held on to as if they were treasures?  What have you packed away in your heart instead of God’s Truth?  Listen to the song below and take these questions to Him.

Clothing and Insufficiency

Let me tell you that wearing only seven clothes for seven days was not a huge deal for me.  I liked not thinking about what I should wear and having very little laundry.  When I picked out my clothes from the rest of my closet this morning for the first time in a week, I almost felt disappointed that I needed to take the time to decide what I was going to wear. True story.  


When I was in college, we used to watch people (mainly girls) walk by and joke about what their major could be based on the their attire.  For example, a button-down blouse tucked in to a straight black skirt was most likely a business major, however, a long flowing earthy or jean skirt with a T-shirt and no make-up was probably a missions major.  Sounds awful and judgmental, but in truth we didn't mean any harm by it.  We were just 20-year-olds a bit full of ourselves with too much time on our hands between classes.


I'm letting you in on this little dark secret of my past to help you understand me when I say that I fall in between these two aforementioned categories.  I don't really want to look like a missions major (at least not most of the time), but I don't actually care enough to want to look as polished as a business major all of the time either.  Maybe this could be explained by the fact that I was actually a business major interested in missions who ended up becoming a bilingual education teacher after college.  I have the makings of a fashion identity crisis, people, somewhere in between not caring at all and extremely polished and put-together.


Despite (or maybe because of) my mostly nonchalant fashion perspective, I still had clothes lurking in my closet that I a) never wear b) don't like or c) shouldn't wear because it's too worn out.  It's so easy to tell my husband that shirt looks hideous, you need to get rid of it, yet not always so easy to motivate myself to do the same.  I'm envious of Bea at Zero Waste Home with her paired-down wardrobe.  I don't know that I could get mine quite that small, but I have done some purging this week (again) and have come up with a basic guideline:


7 tank tops (I live in Texas, people.)
7 short-sleeved tops
7 long-sleeved shirts
7 dress pants
2-3 sweaters
3-4 jackets
7 dresses
7 shorts/skirts/capris
5 work-out outfits
3 T-shirts
2 pairs pajamas per season


I actually have one or two more in a few of those areas, and I don't plan to get rid of the extra unless I don't wear them or they wear out.  The numbers are more-so a basic guideline to help me know when to say, "Enough."  When I think, "I have nothing to wear." I can take a hard look at what is actually in my closet and say, "No, I have enough," or, "Yes, I need to replace some things."


There is one little problem with this plan: I have had this basic wardrobe plan in the back of my mind for a while.  But then something happens walking through a store when I see CLEARANCE in red.  Especially when it's children's clothing.  The kids might need clothes so they're not running around half-dressed or naked.  (I have actually muttered in my head while walking through Target, "Curse you, Target and your inexpensive and cute but irresponsibly manufactured clothing," while avoiding said clearance racks.  More on this to come during spending week.)


This is a hard habit to break.  Because it's tied to fear.  Fear that if I don't buy the clothes now when they're on sale, I might not have enough to buy the clothes later when we need them.  Or, even worse and more of a reality for me, I might have to buy us clothes at full-price, and I will have completely failed in my responsibility as a mother to stretch our dollars for every penny they're worth.   You see, it's really all about me and my insufficiency and inadequacy as a mother.


Wow.


Which is why I need to hear the Father's voice saying, "I am your sufficiency."  And why I need to lay down my striving to be considered "enough" and allow Him to be "more than enough."


To put practicality to walking that out, I also feel like I need a boundary. Starting now, we're only buying clothes twice a year: October or November for fall and March or April for spring/summer with a couple of items for stockings/presents at Christmas.  Not to begin this with a whole list of caveats, but if a REAL need arises in between or the kids need a shirt for school or activities in between shopping I am not going to be the clothes Nazi. (Maybe I should recite that phrase over and over in my head.)

Harder than I thought

After much deliberation, I have narrowed my wardrobe down to seven clothes for the week.  (Wondering what I'm doing? Read this and/or this.  Wondering why I'm doing this?  Amy Bennett at Permission to Peruse explains it well here.)


Here is my list in no particular order:


One tan tank top
One pair of blue shorts
One pair of work out shirts
One gray T-shirt
Green sundress
Sandals
Tennis Shoes


My initial thought was to go for mix and match, but then realized there isn't a whole lot of mix-and-matching to be done with seven items--especially when workout clothes take up three of those items.  However, since I am counting my workout clothes, I've decided not to count my bathing suit should we go swimming this week.  It's really more like underwear which also doesn't count, right?


I also considered leaving the sandals out and going barefoot when I didn't want to wear tennis shoes, but I have a couple of things this week that I need to look somewhat presentable for (hence the sundress) and I don't want to wear my pink and neon green work out shoes to those appointments.  All of this to say I thought this would be easier as I am not a fashonista.


During this week I am also going to be purging our clothes closets, again, and my dresser drawers which always seem to get overlooked.  I have some other long-term ideas regarding wardrobes floating around in my head, but I think I will save those for the wrap-up post at the end of this week.


For now, I will tell you that I am wondering what my hubby's reaction will be if I ask him to choose seven of his favorite T-shirts and get rid of the rest...

Giving it up

I almost had a break down over food Tuesday night.  It came out in our dinner conversation that Ben had taken two of children who were already finished with school out to lunch. Which really isn't a big deal in and of itself.  Except that this past weekend we went to the grocery store and bought 3 pounds of lunch meat (which we rarely buy) and other items to feed our family lunch, and when I balked at the amount of meat he was buying he said that he would eat it this week because he would be home with the girls.  Plus, we had plenty of leftovers and other food in the fridge.  And he just took them out to eat the day before.


I wanted to let it go. But it really bothered me.  Because just a month or so ago he told me we needed to watch our spending because we are buying a house this month.  My little brain flew into survival mode--no spending on anything unless absolutely necessary and avoid eating out as much as possible.  The two days in a row of eating out were more than I could handle.  I'm also going to blame it on the fact that I went to Target twice last weekend and even Wal-mart the night before, two stores I try to avoid like the plague, especially the latter.


Lest you misunderstand me and think that I am bashing my dear sweet husband, let me explain that he is a very caring man who is actually conscientious of his spending and is extremely supportive and even on the same page with me 99.9 percent of the time in all of my glorious craziness.  And lest I come across as a saint and completely innocent in this account, I myself ate out with my girlfriends Wednesday night and then again with others Thursday for lunch.  But it's okay when I decide to eat out, and I don't need anyone to question my choices, thank you very much.  


Hello, my name is Alison, and I'm a hypocritical control freak. (Sorry, Ben.)


Anyhow... as Ben and I discussed the situation after dinner with myself on the verge of tears (dramatic, I know), I discovered two things.  First off, we had a slight communication issue on what "watching our spending" means.  Second, as we are trying to understand each other (because we have had the conversation on eating out for lunch before, and it completely mystifies me why he will go to get a sandwich from Subway when there are leftovers in the fridge), I came to the realization that I think about food. all. the. time.


What are we going to eat for dinner this week?


What am I going to feed the kids for snack?


Have the kids packed their lunch for school?


What am I going to pack for school?


What am I going to fix for breakfast?


Do we need to take a snack or a water bottle?


It seems that as soon as one meal is finished I'm thinking and planning the next.  In my defense I get really, really cranky when I'm hungry, and so do my kids.  Maybe this is a normal mom-thing.  From birth your primary responsibility is feeding your child. every. two. to. three. hours.


But then again maybe I go overboard and get a little OCD on this one.  And doesn't this sound a lot like my post from a couple of weeks ago???  Which leads me to believe I still need to address some things in the food department.


Going through this first week of the Summer of Seven, I've decided that I want to focus on each item for a week as planned, but then also have a take-away to either continue or start for a specific period of time.  This is my plan to try to undo some of this mess inside me:


I'm not writing a menu plan for the next week.  As a general rule, I'm only going to think about the food that is needed for today.  


I'm not making a big weekly trip to the store for the rest of the month with perfectly-planned-out grocery list in hand.  Instead we will base our meals off of what's in the pantry and fill in any gaps as needed on a daily basis. We will continue our bi-weekly produce coop and milk/egg run. (To be honest with you, this one is partly motivated by our upcoming move. Nevertheless, not having a detailed plan for groceries is a definite challenge for me.)


We will give generously and lovingly to those who do not have enough to eat as part of the way we do life.


Finally, I'm giving up worrying about food.  Easier said than done.  However, when I feel myself going down that path, I'm going to give it to God and ask Him to change my heart.

Rethinking Food

So after deciding to join the Summer of Seven, a blog challenge to reduce in similar ways as Jen Hatmaker did in her book Seven, I am now wrestling out the logistics of the process.  In a very uncharacteristic move on my part (see previous post), I have decided not to map out a detailed schedule of which area we will address when and how and why and the whole sha-bang.  Instead we’re just gonna take it a step at a time and see what happens.

Can I tell you I am so struggling with the food issue?   Not because it seems too hard but because I don’t know what to do about it.  I don’t know how to adjust it to go deeper.  In Seven, Jen Hatmaker only eats seven foods for one month.  I don't feel like that fits our family's current food journey.

We already buy our produce organically through a coop.

We purchase our meat, eggs, dairy, and other produce through local farmers.

We buy in bulk as much as possible.

We only eat “real” food the majority of the time. (I write a blog about it.)

We’ve made a conscious effort to reduce consumption and find more responsible options for food items tied to slavery such as coffee and chocolate.

Using up the freezer/pantry/fridge ingredients for dinner.

I just stocked my freezer with meals because the end of the school year is crazy busy and we are about to move.  We are also already using up our pantry because of said move.  

Two days ago I did another purge of our pantry and threw out anything containing soy lecithin and my children’s leftover Easter candy and any other candy lurking in our pantry.  Noah informed me the next morning that if I threw away his ring pop, they cost him 50 cents each.  I told him we’d discuss it later which is code for: oh, crap, I have no idea how to handle that, but we need to get out the door before we’re late for school, and this isn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.

I say all of this not to toot my own horn, but more so to say, “Where else do I go from here, since food is already a subject we are constantly working to learn more about and make more healthful and responsible choices in?”  And even as I write this I feel the tug in my heart.

Of course it has been in the back of my mind for a WHILE to give to the food pantry at church, but I haven’t actually done anything about it.

And I think about opening my home for others to share a meal whether they 

can return the favor or not.

And it strikes me that when we give, we shouldn’t just give our cast-offs or items of a lesser quality, but rather the same that we would buy for ourselves or our family.

Jesus had this to say, "...When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, otherwise they may also invite you in return and that will be your repayment. But when you give a reception, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, since they do not have the means to repay you; for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.” (Luke 14:12-14)  


And then there is that story we've all heard in Matthew 25 about the sheep and the goats--that when we feed, clothe, and care for the least of these it's as if we had done the same for Jesus.  You know, that story that caused you to pray the sinners' prayer a ba-gillion times when you were a kid because you were scared you weren't really saved.  Yeah, that's the one.


I have been the one in need while others stood beside me and cared for me when I was unable to stand alone.  These words of Jesus wrench my heart and bring tears to my eyes.  But being moved to compassion isn't enough.  We must also be moved into action.


Thinking in light of the Summer of Seven, I don’t know that any of these areas I mentioned above really fit into a week-long plan, but I think this is what fits what I need to address in the area of food.  This week I’m putting these areas on my to-do list to start and continue.  Additionally, I’m going to continue to pray for God to mold me in this area—to give my eyes to see and a heart to understand and for Him to move me to actually live the gospel of Christ.


Feel free to join in and add your blog to the blog hop bellow or just post your thoughts to the comment section!

Control

I’ve been rereading Seven by Jen Hatmaker.  It was one of those books I loved so much that I couldn’t put it down the first time.  It is also one of those books that challenges you to change, so this time I am reading it slowly and purposefully with the intent of asking God what He wants me to change in my life.  (By the way, this is a book I think everyone should read.  Click on the link above and scroll down to see what it’s about.)

In the first chapter of the book, Hatmaker discusses a sermon given by the missions pastor of her church.  Ben and I discussed these questions the other night on our drive home:

1.   What in my life, if taken away, would alter my value or identity?

2.   What causes an unhealthy change of attitude, personality, or focus when “it” becomes threatened?

3.   What is the thing outside of God that you put everything else on hold for?

It was the second question that gripped me.  You see, I have control issues. I am a very Type A first-born. I make menu plans. And grocery lists. And chore charts. And morning and evening routines. And lunch menu options. And a daily schedule for the kids in the summer.  (And during the week-long ice storm last year because they were starting crawl up the wall and drive me nuts.)

When I was in sixth grade I self-imposed making a complete outline as a study guide for a Science exam and showed my teacher the next day. (Kiss up, I know.)  He told me I should become a lawyer.  I didn’t.  But I married one. 

How two type A personalities get along so well, I don’t even know, except that we are uptight about different things.  He likes to pick apart language and meaning and intent.  I mostly just want my classroom and house and kitchen run a certain way.  We actually do enjoy cooking together—as long as we’re cooking different things.  If I ask him to help me with what I’m cooking, I have to resort to something akin to Lamaze breathing because he’s not measuring things exactly and with the right utensils.  And please don’t put dirty dishes in the rinse side of the sink or the neighboring countertop, thank-you-very-much.  I don’t even pay attention anymore if he’s doing laundry because it’s not the way I would do it.  (I know, most of you are saying “Shut up already, he’s doing the laundry,”—which is why I let it go. Most of the time.)

We have four children that we share with two other people to whom we are no longer married. (Aren’t you glad I cleared that up?)  My children have at least eight great-grandparents and nine grandparents between all of their respective families, and it’s too late at night for me to count their aunts and uncles and cousins.  We have managed to align the planets just so, cocking our heads ever so slightly to the right, and sticking our tongues out to the left, in order to have the four of them on the same normal schedule and mostly the same days over the holidays.  Unfortunately, I am normally unable to move heaven and earth to arrange to have all four or sometimes any of the children at events that do not fall on our regular days.  That’s just the way our life works.

That being the case, scheduling is absolutely necessary for us.  Plans keep us sane, food on our table, and our house in a livable condition.  On the other hand, with four children who have two different families and one combined family, two full time jobs, and all of the activities such as sports and church on the side, life does not always go as planned, as you can imagine.  This is where I struggle.  Between wanting to be flexible and go with the flow and feeling like I have failed because we didn’t follow the plan.  (That failure issue is a whole ‘nother post for another day.)

During our discussion in the car, I informed my husband that I am perfectly fine going with the flow on mission trips and the like.  Nothing ever goes as scheduled.  Plan B, or even C or D, is almost always what is executed instead of the original intent.  He was so kind to point out that I’m okay with this because the plan is to be flexible.  Ugh. Point taken.

Right now, I don’t know exactly where the balance is between planning and being flexible.  But I do know that when I feel crazy because things aren’t going as planned, and I feel like I’m losing my identity and value as a person as a result, I’m missing the big picture.  Not planning is so not an option, but neither is living life wound up so tight.  I'm sure it's a matter of perspective and attitude and relying on grace.  Proverbs 16:9 says, "The mind of man plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps."  In my interpretation: get ready for things not to go as planned.


Maybe for me that looks like applying the mindset I use in missions to my everyday life:  We have Plan A, but get ready to go with Plan B.  Be flexible. Go with the flow.  Walk in grace.  Be present and intentional with the people you're with instead of tied to your schedule.  


I'm still wrestling this one out.  I'll be sure to let you know when I've got it all figured out, but I wouldn't hold your breath...




Update: As it turns out, I stumbled upon a group of bloggers who are doing a "Summer of 7."  This seems like the perfect opportunity to wrestle out some of the stuff God is doing in my heart, sooooo I'm jumping in.  Care to join?

Worry

I traded in joy for pennies on the dollar—peace exchanged for worthless worry.  I drank the cup of bitterness, and it poisoned my soul. 

The double-minded man is like a ship tossed about on the ocean.  My heart was that ship tossed about on the ocean.

Isn’t that what it feels like when we worry?  At best it’s a nagging thought at the back of our mind.  At worst our stomachs perform acrobatic feats.  We are unable to think clearly or are paralyzed with fear.  The emotional roller coaster becomes so overwhelming it makes us sick.

Worry is a choice not to trust in God’s faithfulness—in the faithfulness of one who numbers the hairs on our head and gives us this day our daily bread.  Our daily bread.  He gives us what we need for today.  Jesus’s words cut to the heart of it all:

For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?  And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?  And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.  But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith! Do not worry then, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear for clothing?’ For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.  But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:25-34)

Enough for today.  Sounds like a nice neat little Sunday-school story, but does He really give us enough? Can I trust Him that what He’s measured out for me today will be enough?  The “what ifs” pound through my mind as I struggle to be content with what He has given for today.

What if our kids make poor choices?

What if we lose our income?

What if I make a bad decision?

What if something bad happens to one of us?

Because I want what I need for today, and the next day, and many more after that.  I am a planner.  I want a road map. I want to have it all figured out--with a contingency plan, if you please.  Or maybe I just want to be in control of it all.

And Jesus’s answer to all my what-ifs is to trust. To trust that He is enough.  Even in the face of my fears.

When I travel without my kids, I worry about dying.  What would happen to my kids if I were to die?  Who would they live with? Would they be taken care of? Would they know God?

This is what I hear, “What if you were to die?” It seems as though God likes to take my questions and my fears and toss them back to me. “Is dying the worst thing that could happen to you?  Don’t I love your children even more than you do? You can trust me to take care of you and your children.”

Jesus isn’t giving us a pat on the hand with a trite little lesson when he tells us not to worry about tomorrow.  He is telling us that we can trust the Father who knows what we need to take care of us no matter what tomorrow brings. 

Giving up worrying isn’t exactly a walk in the park.  Temptations to linger there present themselves nearly daily.  So what is the remedy?  I have little faith in white-knuckle Christianity.  It seems the more we try to resist giving in by our own sheer will power, the more we think of it and the more difficult it becomes.

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.  (Philippians 4:6)

Instead, we turn it over to God.  We tell God our fears and our concerns.  We thank Him for what we know to be true—that He is good and he takes care of us.  Sometimes that looks like crying and grieving and other times that may look like anger or hopelessness.  And then we listen to hear His voice.  We trade our own inadequacies for His strength, the lies we have believed for His truth. 

Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. The things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you. (Philippians 4:8-9)

We replace the worries—that dark pit of despair—with God’s goodness. We read His word and meditate on it, listen to songs that give hope, talk to friends whose words give life.  And His light replaces the darkness. The peace of God is in us.