Here you have it: our family purpose statement. We'd been reflecting on such a statement for about a month now, with prompting from Organized Simplicity. We made lists, discussed dreams from the past and hopes for the future, reflecting on what we wanted to be like and how we felt God made us to be. We started with a super, simple statement:

Love a lot: Love God. Love people. Love eachother.

We liked this general purpose a lot, but wanted to have some concrete descriptors as to what that love would look like on a tangible level. In the end, we came up with this:

We want to display this somewhere in our apartment, small enough that we can take it with us anywhere and still know that we're home. Thoughts?

Figuring Out Equally Shared Parenting : Because we mess up

Ok, so we've done the roles thing, done the parenting thing, but here's where the rubber hits the road: how do we try, fail, and keep at it? What is essential, and what's not?



Making a go of it long term

For us, three keys go into making this work:

1) Flexibility : our schedule is different every week, if not every day, so we continue to try to embrace the differences and the difficulties. We make plans on the fly, so some days are busier while others see more downtime. For instance, today's schedule:

• Matt leaves at 6am for prayer meeting.
• I take kids to school at 8:30 am.
• Matt's home at 9am so he takes the wee lad for errands and playground.
• I head out the door at 9:30am to write.
• I'm home by 12:30pm so Matt can head to a friend's cafe for lunch, reading and paperwork.
• He'll pick up the kids on his way home while I make dinner.
• Tonight I'll be on kid duty while he makes calls, sets up appointments, and writes letters.

Tomorrow will be totally different, so we make daily adjustments and go with it. And when things get tough and we have to take on more, we do.



Flexibility also means having to reassess, frequently. A couple months ago we realized we were struggling to make ends meet. We live off a stipend of our usual overseas salary, so we try to keep it bare bones so that it's there when we we're ready to go. We knew returning to Ireland was our future, so getting full-time "real" jobs and no longer raising support wasn't an option. But we needed additional income. Last time, I did temp work over the holidays. This time it's Matt taking on more, working seasonally in a lawn & garden department.

Working alongside eachother in equally shared parenting means that we have equal say and responsibility in how this is all going to work. And it means when something's gotta give, we give. And we try to give graciously, knowing that this season isn't forever, and soon enough we'll be changing it up again, which leads me to...

2) Grace : The daily adjustments and "going with it" means we have to apply liberal amounts of grace. There are times when it gets a little tense and tiring and frustrating to not know what is next. Our work and family go hand-in-hand, so when we do sacrifice something (him doing more woodworking, or me having alone time to write, or putting off a needed purchase), we try to remember it's for a greater good.



I'm learning more and more that being a grace-giver in our life and ministry means doing the same for my spouse and my kids. We are in this together, fighting it out together, and working towards finding an intentionally holistic place to be a family on mission together. Especially since we are prone to...

3) Messing up : Matt likes to quote a professor of his who said something to the effect of "You don't have to be the perfect parent, you just have to be good enough." I'm not entirely sure that's an accurate quote or entirely true, but we are so imperfect at this. Some days we over-schedule and are in need of a literally-last-minute sitter (last Monday, for instance), on other days one of us is late for the pick-up routine. And some days, well, I just don't want to do any of it. I think: I want to be normal! And then we complain, and then we fight, and then... we remember.

We remember that handy Family Purpose Statement we did last year, we remember and dream about our work overseas, we remember this all goes so fast. So we broker a peace agreement, shake hands, wipe tears and try again.



In conclusion, a mild disclaimer: I know this approach isn't best for everyone, nor is it possible for everyone. Many of my best friends are the full-time mothers/homemakers in awesome families, while others have or want to work out of the home, and some may find themselves doing all of it alone. I'm not even sure if we'll always be able to parent or live this way.

I think for us, because of the path we find ourselves on, this is the way we've been led to grow and move. I hope it's not a discouragement to you, but rather an impetus to see there is more than one perfect way to be a great mom, dad, wife, husband, friend, partner or caretaker. In whatever season or situation you find yourself, I believe there is a best way made just for you, and as we've prayed to discover that way for us, I pray you will discover it, too.



So, questions? Concerns? Advice? Have you found your own "best way?" Bueller?

I'm a Mess :: 31 Days of Messy Parenting {day 1}

Here I go again, committing to another round of 31 Days... posts in October. Last year I spent every day of the month sharing my thoughts on (and images from) Living in Transition. It was a stretching month, attempting to intentionally embrace and thrive amidst the daily chaos of life, family and ministry transitions.

Ironically enough, we're still transitioning, though it appears we're finally transitioning out of one phase and into the next... but more on that later!

This month I'm pulling back the curtain a bit, so to speak. I've been wanting to write for awhile on how we parent and lead the wee three. I've already shared a bit on Equally Shared Parenting, our Family Purpose Statement, and our nighttime rituals, but I've felt the need to go more in depth about what happens when we get things right, what happens when we get things oh so wrong, and how the apartment looks in between cooking meals and breaking up fights.

I vascillated between a couple of titles. 31 Days of Lazy Parenting was catchy, but my friend Tom assured me it wasn't laziness I was going for. 31 Day of Laissez-Faire Parenting sounds worldly and romantic, but it was hard to fit on a blog button.

So what kind of parent am I?

I'm a messy one.

The thing is, and if you read my blog regularly, you already know this: I'm a mess. My writing, my cleaning, my organization and - yes, even my parenting - is messy. I'm a screw up with near perfectionist tendencies, meaning I try very hard to get things not quite right most of the time.

So, with the hopes of being brave, sharing our stories and the sometimes beautiful mess that follows us wherever we go, I hope you'll join me in 31 Days of Messy Parenting. And I hope you'll share your messy stories with me, too.




Oh, and hey! I have a button! Copy, paste and share. :)

<a href="http://riverintowords.blogspot.com/p/31-days.html"><img src="http://i1249.photobucket.com/albums/hh507/jackandellasmum/31daysnew250-1.png" width="125" height="125" alt="The River Into Words" /></a>

Anniversaries and possessions

"I'm thinking we shouldn't take anything when we go."

I said this to the husband today after days and weeks of pondering it, knowing it, and daring it to be said aloud. First, some background:

This weekend we took 24 hours off from parenthood to celebrate our 12th wedding anniversary and hang out unhindered and fancy-free in a city we love: our current one. It was great: we walked, had dinner, saw a movie, slept in, and then we went to the City Market for our favourite childless activity: sitting down in a coffeeshop for actual talking.

Sitting across from husband I said this without knowing I would.

"I'm thinking we shouldn't take anything when we go. I don't want to send a crate. I want to leave it all behind."

We hadn't been talking about Ireland much today, still not knowing exactly how and when we'll get back, but knowing for sure that God is leading us back. It hadn't even been on my mind, but for some reason, in that place, this divinely planted wish came tumbling out, and I knew in my heart it was right.

Then came the smile and "I was thinking the same thing" and "I feel free" and "Ireland seems closer now." But also, "We still have to ship my tools" and my knowing nod as I recognize the distinction between what we need for ministry and what we use for comfort.

See, before, when we just took a few things in a large crate that ended up weighing a lot and costing as much as a 20-foot container, I felt jipped. I wanted everything, all my things, all my furniture, everything that said "mine, mine, mine" to go with me to Ireland. Everyone else got to, I said. All of our coworkers took everything, some took more than everything. But it came to be that we took less, and I resented giving those things up. When we came back, and all my things I'd left behind were here waiting for me, I felt vindicated. My rocking chair, my dresser, my table... still "mine, mine, mine."

And yet... the shine was gone. The wood chipped. The imperfections I hadn't remembered, or purposely glossed over, were still there. I sit in my brown club chair now and am happy to have had it here, relieved that it was not so hard to make another home here because of all we left behind, but that's all it is.

A chair I sit in.

Or a table we eat at.

There's no reason to take it with us. It won't make us happier. It won't enable us to love better. And it won't make things easier: the packing and the shipping and the cost of it all. There's no reason - no value to it - that equals the amount we would pay to take something that says "mine" over the sea. I will not be the person that spends thousands of dollars - not just dollars, but investments from people I cherish and admire, who have chosen to love us and Ireland through their support - on a container full of things.

And so our family purpose statement rears it's head. It's our goal and our road map. It points us home and points us heavenward. And it makes this decision, this tiny little sacrifice easier.

Value people over things.

This didn't come from me, or from us. It's what He would have us do, so there's nothing holding us back from being all there, here, or wherever.

It will still be hard, I know, to say goodbye to things that were here at the beginning of "us" and to which we came home. I'm not even really looking forward to it. And I'm sure I'll be annoyed at husband for shipping literal tools for ministry but leaving the framed mirror w/hooks he built for me behind.

But... there's a storage unit on the other side of the sea, with the odds and ends we brought or collected to make a new home. They wait for us to return - not to them, but to the people that inhabited them and visited us there and laughed at the table and closed eyes at the prayers. They want nothing to hold us back.

And yeah, it does seem closer now.

Anniversaries & Possessions (a re-post)

"I'm thinking we shouldn't take anything when we go."

I said this to the husband today after days and weeks of pondering it, knowing it, and daring it to be said aloud. First, some background:

This weekend we took 24 hours off from parenthood to celebrate our 12th wedding anniversary and hang out unhindered and fancy-free in a city we love: our current one. It was great: we walked, had dinner, saw a movie, slept in, and then we went to the City Market for our favourite childless activity: sitting down in a coffeeshop for actual talking.

Sitting across from husband I said this without knowing I would.

"I'm thinking we shouldn't take anything when we go. I don't want to send a crate. I want to leave it all behind."

We hadn't been talking about Ireland much today, still not knowing exactly how and when we'll get back, but knowing for sure that God is leading us back. It hadn't even been on my mind, but for some reason, in that place, this divinely planted wish came tumbling out, and I knew in my heart it was right.

Then came the smile and "I was thinking the same thing" and "I feel free" and "Ireland seems closer now." But also, "We still have to ship my tools" and my knowing nod as I recognize the distinction between what we need for ministry and what we use for comfort.

See, before, when we just took a few things in a large crate that ended up weighing a lot and costing as much as a 20-foot container, I felt jipped. I wanted everything, all my things, all my furniture, everything that said "mine, mine, mine" to go with me to Ireland. Everyone else got to, I said. All of our coworkers took everything, some took more than everything. But it came to be that we took less, and I resented giving those things up. When we came back, and all my things I'd left behind were here waiting for me, I felt vindicated. My rocking chair, my dresser, my table... still "mine, mine, mine."

And yet... the shine was gone. The wood chipped. The imperfections I hadn't remembered, or purposely glossed over, were still there. I sit in my brown club chair now and am happy to have had it here, relieved that it was not so hard to make another home here because of all we left behind, but that's all it is.

A chair I sit in.

Or a table we eat at.

There's no reason to take it with us. It won't make us happier. It won't enable us to love better. And it won't make things easier: the packing and the shipping and the cost of it all. There's no reason - no value to it - that equals the amount we would pay to take something that says "mine" over the sea. I will not be the person that spends thousands of dollars - not just dollars, but investments from people I cherish and admire, who have chosen to love us and Ireland through their support - on a container full of things.

And so our family purpose statement rears it's head. It's our goal and our road map. It points us home and points us heavenward. And it makes this decision, this tiny little sacrifice easier.

Value people over things.

This didn't come from me, or from us. It's what He would have us do, so there's nothing holding us back from being all there, here, or wherever.

It will still be hard, I know, to say goodbye to things that were here at the beginning of "us" and to which we came home. I'm not even really looking forward to it. And I'm sure I'll be annoyed at husband for shipping literal tools for ministry but leaving the framed mirror w/hooks he built for me behind.

But... there's a storage unit on the other side of the sea, with the odds and ends we brought or collected to make a new home. They wait for us to return - not to them, but to the people that inhabited them and visited us there and laughed at the table and closed eyes at the prayers. They want nothing to hold us back.

And yeah, it does seem closer now.

{though apparently not too close... a re-post from last June, in light of recent events}

-------------------

Have you had to begrudgingly give up anything recently (apart from Lent)?

Trash nerd (reflections on waste and creation care)

I'm a worrier. On top of worrying about money, about my kids, about school, about our car in Ireland which has spent the last 2+ years sitting in someone's front garden, about our jobs, about the girl's eczema, about my eczema, about moving, about staying... I could go on and on.

And the environment; I really worry about the environment. And when I say environment, I mean God's creation. Because that's what it is: His earth, His plants and water and animals and people... God's garden. 

This worry began around 2002 when Matt worked in lawn "care" and came home with his glasses covered in yellow pesticide fuzz, steadily increased in Ireland where we planted our first real garden (Schrute Farm), and escalated to it's peak during the Great Diaper Crisis of 2009 (we calculated that by the time Ash was potty trained, we would have been diapering for 10 years, and the mere thought of another 5000 diapers wasting away for the next 500 years in beautiful Ireland was just too much to bear). Being green in Ireland is easy, you see, for there is only so much land to give to waste and you are emotionally and financially bound to your compost and recycling bins for fear of going over your rubbish weight allotment.

Upon arriving back in America (with our cloth diapers in tow), I couldn't wait to throw away some stuff. All the stuff. Oh what freedom was to be had in just throwing any old thing away.

But... I couldn't do it. I'd hold my hand over the trash can and fret. Where will this broken plastic container end up? How long will it rot (or not rot) there? And this sock? It has no partner, no use to us, but when does synthetic fabric break down? Do I just throw. it. away?

This is why Jen Hatmaker's chapter on Waste in her recent book 7 speaks to me. Jen recognizes and calls out the hyprocrisy modern Evangelicals perpetuate: we advocate for the redemption of souls, the regeneration of hearts and lives of eternal worth, while we abuse and misappropriate the earth's resources for our temporal, costly comfort. 

"My luxuries come at the expense of some of God's best handiwork: forests, petroleum, clean air, healthy ecosystems. We also ravage the lands of vulnerable countries, stripping their resources for consumption. The wealthy world has a sordid history of colonization, ruling by force over indigenous people and providing from their natural resources and local labor. Yes Africa, we'll take your diamonds, gold, and oil, but you can keep your crushing poverty and disease." p.136

Here's a (not so) cute anecdote. Earth Hour, a short investment of time on a Spring Saturday evening where anyone can turn off the lights, the TV, anything requiring an outlet or a cord. It is a worldwide event. Back here in America, as we planned to participate in an hour of semi-darkness, some good church-going people had other ideas. "I'm going to turn every light and every appliance on during Earth Hour," an acquaintance posted on Facebook, "I want those people to see how ridiculous it is." To add insult to injury, he equated it with God's call to the church to be a shining city on a hill. Literally.

We want to save people, yet we belittle the very people and organizations who are trying to save, redeem, and breathe new life into God's creation.

So mad props to Jen Hatmaker! She starts with a bang, going from zero to 60 in one month; from not recyclying a darn thing, to composting, shopping second-hand, driving/sharing one car, and researching locally made hemp tennis shoes. It is clear that God is challenging her and growing her, both in and out of their new backyard garden.  And it's challenging me, too.

I loved reading her insights and struggles, relating the split personalities that emerge when trying to make smart, economical, healthy, local, environmentally-friendly choices (I, too, spend about a half hour per shopping market aisle in a mental health death match with five other Karen Konsumers - see what I did there?).

Here's the question she poses that sticks with me:

"What does it mean to be a godly consumer? What if God's creation is more than just a commodity?"

I don't have the perfect answer to this, but only - like Jen does - can I seek to try... to try to do the right thing, to try and make wise, eternal choices. Here are some ways we are trying:

• Recycling (glass, plastic, paper, cardboard)
• Reusable shopping bags
• Shopping farmers' markets twice a month for local, organic yumminess 
• Buying mostly second-hand for kids' clothes
• Attempting to grow some green things on our tiny balcony (namely: hydrangeas and basil)
• Using and reusing BPA-free water bottles (no plastic bottles in our home... except for diet coke 2 liters)
• Waste-free lunches for kids (reusable lunch boxes, snack bags and sandwich containers)
• Repurposing lumber and old furniture for new projects

Notice what's missing? Those cloth diapers. He's three now and could remove them at will... but we donated them to a friend, so really, we're still good I think.

So, we're trying. We love God, we love His people, and we love Creation. It's right there in our family purpose statement.

"I'm done spearating ecology from theology, pretending they don't originate from the same source." p. 150

Me too.

Have you read 7? What do you think it means to be a godly consumer?