Cheap Lumpy Mattresses

“What’s one thing you wish you had known when you first started out?”  That was the question I had to address recently at a ladies’ tea.  Maybe some of you youngsters could come up with a quick easy answer for this, but for me, “starting out” was literally half a lifetime ago.

Truth be told, maybe people did try to tell me certain things back then, but it never sank in until I learned them by experience.  How many people used to say, “Enjoy those children while they’re young; they grow up so fast!”  Did I learn it just hearing it from some older, wiser woman?  No way, Jose.

Viewing it from this side of fifty, it’s humbling on the one hand how much I still have to learn, and at the same time I find it challenging to take my own life lessons and make anything but a lame attempt to pack them into a neat little lesson to teach women coming behind me. 

One thing I wish I had understood better starting out 26 years ago is the nature of spiritual warfare.  I wish I had been more aware that there is an enemy out there who wants to destroy my marriage, ministry, family, and me.  I wish I had known that the enemy is not my husband, coworkers, or children.

What did I answer these kind women who so eagerly wanted to hear about my experiences?  Nothing very profound, to be sure.  In fact, I’m sure they were disappointed.  I said that I wished I had known then how much God truly loves me and cares for me apart from anything I might accomplish in this life, that He doesn’t mind if I am comfortable occasionally.

For years I used to feel a pang of guilt for even wishing for creature comforts.  Now I embrace them when they come my way, though I struggle against purposely seeking them out for myself.  I’ve learned that there is nothing more spiritual about sleeping on the ground or on a cheap, lumpy bed, and there is nothing sinful about being color coordinated or wearing makeup.

While there are certain products I need to stay physically attractive to my husband, there are also helps I need to stay physically healthy.

I’ve also learned that there are certain things I must do in order to stay sweet and productive.  I do require a certain amount of sleep, preferably on a firm mattress, and I function better with daily exercise and good nutrition.  This summer after gaining back about 15 pounds, I learned again the danger of giving in to every craving and eating every dessert offered.

Didn’t I know that before we left Mexico for our summer in the U.S.?  I did.  Yet I still had to learn that hard lesson again, experientially.  Thankfully we were able to join a gym for just two months, which helps a lot to feel better even though the rest of my lifestyle is temporarily out of balance.

So back to the original question:  What do you wish you had known then that you know now?

IRL*Most of us learn the hard way by sleeping on cheap, lumpy mattresses.

Never Say Never

You never miss what you've never had. Or do you?

Growing up I never missed having aunts, uncles, or cousins, because both my parents were only children. I never knew what I was missing.

Living the past 25 years outside the U.S. without a Starbucks close by has not been a sacrifice, because Starbucks didn’t even exist when I left, and besides, I almost never drink coffee.

Likewise I never knew of such things as memory foam and sleep number mattresses, so I’ve never missed them. We’ve never had anything larger than a full size bed, so it never feels like a sacrifice to not have a queen or king-size bed.

The things I grew up having, like automatic washing machines and clothes dryers, dishwashers, Kitchen Aid mixers, and all sorts of convenience foods at the grocery store – these I did miss.

Many years ago a pedicurist came on a short-term team, insisting that the delight of her week would be to give me a pedicure. “How lovely on the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news….” This was her obsession. Up until then I had never missed such luxuries, having never splurged on a pedicure in my life.

It was ticklish and embarrassing to have someone touch my grungy feet after years of wearing sandals year-round on dusty unpaved roads. I tried every way possible to postpone this “treat” – hoping she would just forget the whole thing. The last night, though, she would not be deterred, and I experienced my first pedicure.

Maybe some of you received your first (free!) pedicure at a Women of the Harvest Retreat, and you know what an amazing feeling it is to have your feet pampered. After that, I was hooked. I don’t actually pay for a pedicure very often, but I find myself wishing I could.

Thanks to the internet (Pinterest), visits to the U.S. every year or so, and talking to new missionaries and short-termers, I now know about many other things I have never experienced, and if I’m not careful I can begin to covet and crave things I have never even seen.

Then came Easter. Sunday morning I gathered with family and friends at sunrise, worshipping and remembering the Resurrection, and out of nowhere I got a blast of longing for something I have never seen except in tiny glimpses.

Heaven.

Do you ever find yourself feeling so homesick for your real home that it brings tears to your eyes? I’ve never seen heaven, but I sure do miss it.

My current must-read book is Heaven, by Randy Alcorn. I recommend it to each of you. It makes me strangely content with my life on earth, knowing there is much more to come. Any small sacrifices I make to serve the Lord now will be worth it in the end.

It’s always good to be reminded that this life is short, and eternity is long.

IRL* Sacrifice does not always feel rewarding, and it’s not always pleasant, but to quote an old favorite song, “It will be worth it all when we see Jesus.”

Transformational Sweat

Since no one shot me down last week, I had planned to continue the mini-series on acceptable sins, thinking I would have the perfect post on either laziness or grumbling and complaining. It turns out, I have been strangely industrious and – miracle of all miracles – haven’t had any complaints yet!

This is Holy Week – slash - spring break for our teens, but instead of hanging out, sleeping in, and being lazy all week, we are helping some coworkers who are hosting a team from the U.S. Unlike the rugged teams we normally send to suffer in a remote mountain location, this group is staying in Puerto Escondido, overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

While most people would jump at the opportunity to serve in such a beautiful place, I had to struggle get my heart straight before agreeing to come. Going to the beach, as I’ve mentioned before, is not my favorite thing. It requires a nasty long drive down a winding road up and down from 5000 feet down to sea level. And then being hot and sweaty is something I generally avoid like manual labor.

Considering the prospect of being in a non-air conditioned kitchen preparing dinner for 22 people, I imagined writing about a whole slew of other besetting sins. It turns out, however, that I have found great delight in doing this. The work the rest of the team (including my husband and kids) do each day is much more grueling than my going to market, shopping, disinfecting produce, chopping, cooking, and cleaning up.

Turns out I have the best job around – plus I get to sneak in an afternoon swim (while I pray, of course) before they get back. Plus we will eat in restaurants a couple of the seven nights, making my work even lighter. It’s as though God, knowing what a wimp I am, tests me to see if I am willing, and then He carries my load.

So we’ll gladly skip the post I thought I would have to write, and just praise the Lord that His mercies are new every morning, and that His grace is sufficient for all our needs. You know what? Even sweating isn’t such an awful plight to be dreaded. Joy has been my constant daily companion. I am so thankful I didn’t allow my flesh to talk me out of this opportunity.

Meanwhile our friends in Mali are going through terribly unsettling times following the coup last week, having had to evacuate before the borders closed on Sunday. There are few situations as dreaded or stressful than to be forced out of a country on short notice. My heart goes out to each of you who were affected, and especially your children leaving behind friends, pets, and toys that didn’t make the cut when the bags were quickly packed.

Sweating over a hot stove and being a servant is a privilege. Even if it were a struggle for me, I would not want to trivialize it in light of these serious times for so many of you. I have spent time each day interceding, not just for this work team, but also for each of you in your current struggles.

No one said this life was going to be easy, but I feel for those of you who are sweating these days of uncertainty. May you find comfort and encouragement as we anticipate Resurrection Sunday, as we keep busy at our tasks of reaching the lost before the coming of the Lord.

IRL*It's a privilege to serve up what He offers.

Magnified and Scrutinized

Something weird happens whenever my grown kids visit. It’s taken me years to pinpoint the short-circuiting in my brain, so bear with me while I attempt to articulate this discovery. Even if you have no adult children, you might experience this with other visitors from the U.S. I know do.

Normally I live my life in a state of acceptance of things-as-they-are. Not everything about my marriage, family, and home is ideal—not by a long shot; but I somehow arrive at a position where I simply overlook the bad and focus on the good. It’s called survival. Or like the motto in my mom’s kitchen that sums it up in another word: “whatever!”

Then these adults-I-used-to-call-children come home, or in the old days, my dmil would come to visit. Suddenly every flaw becomes magnified. It’s not that these people are necessarily criticizing (sometimes they do), but something in my head shifts gears, and like the emperor in the fairy tale who suddenly realizes he is wearing no clothes, all of a sudden I feel ashamed of myself, the people closest to me, and most of all, my (can I say crappy on a Christian blog?) house.

This has been going on for years, but it wasn’t until I was talking to a friend who experienced the same phenomenon this Christmas that I began to see the pattern. Love overlooks a multitude of sins. Peace in the home for the long haul requires large doses of selective blindness, don’t you think?

It’s not until others are watching that it starts to bug me.
 

Why do I put up with this? Why have we never painted that? Why, oh why can we not fix that crazy drawer that has never opened properly? Why have we allowed this child to get away with such-and-such a habit? Why does my dh… Nope, I’m not going there. Worst of all, why do I always….

You get my drift.

Again, it’s not that our visitors necessarily say anything about anyone or anything. Just seeing things through a different lens is what I don’t like. Our marriage, family, and home are fine most of the time, as long as no one is looking too closely. I guess that’s why having guests can be so stressful. Suddenly all our oddities, imperfections, and interactions are under scrutiny.
 

After a month of having dd here, and two weeks with ds and ddil, we are settling back into life-as-it-was. I want to make some changes so that we don’t settle for mediocrity when we should be striving to be the kind of people and have the kind of home that can be scrutinized and found godly in most respects.

This week I splurged on four new pillows to replace the ratty ones I subjected my adult children to over the holidays, hoping that will help future guests overlook all the other quirky things about my home and family. Next we need new mattresses, some better sheets that don’t come from K-mart, and towels that aren’t all shredding and sun-rotted. And then…. Where does this all end?

IRL* Praying for grace to accept what cannot be changed (others), and strength to change what I can change (myself), also patience to accept what I cannot afford to change, and finances to pay for what needs to be changed.

Who's that in the Mirror?

Who are you making fun of? I feel obligated to warn you that you are systematically being transformed into the very characters you used to mock. At least I am.

Back in Guatemala when I was the new kid on the block, a young 20-something with few enough children to call each one by the right name most of the time, I used to snicker at Mrs. (you-think-you-have-it-bad) Missionary Mighty Woman with her eight (what was she thinking?) children. She was notorious for publicly correcting her husband, saying, “No, dear. I’m sure you are mistaken. It couldn’t have possibly been 1950-whatever when that happened, because I distinctly remember that I was pregnant with such-and-such a baby that summer….”

Ha! How I used to laugh over that, until I stopped finding it funny. In fact now I find myself (horrors!), not saying it outright (usually), but often mentally correcting my own dh’s faulty time lines. I now calculate dates and events based on how many children we had at any time in question.

Once upon a time I vowed to never evolve into that Mighty Missionary Woman for another reason, but darn if I don’t see glimpses of “You-think-you-have-it-bad” staring at me in the mirror. Maybe it was inevitable, I don’t know, but it does seem that you fresh young 20-somethings have a much easier go of things than we did back in my day, and certainly have things easier than the generation before me. But I will keep my mouth closed and try hard not to say it out loud, though my pen might get careless at times.

When you turn into me someday (just you wait!), or worse, into your mother, which we all seem to do for better or for worse, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Oh, and another confession, while I’m on a roll. I used to secretly and sometimes openly tease a missionary friend who suffers from something akin to narcolepsy. Poor thing. She randomly drops off to sleep whenever she is in a comfortable chair (which of course is not a daily occurrence in this prickly land of rustic and hard furniture). Ha, ha, ha. How I used to laugh, until I had Dengue, and now it’s Jamie Jo sitting in the chair falling asleep without notice.

I’m telling you, beware! Watch whom you tease. She’s lurking in your mirror even now.

IRL* Maybe if I intentionally mock all the skinny ladies….

The Discomfort of Comfort

Much as I like to think of myself as a woman who enjoys pleasure in moderation, a glance at my blog clearly exposes a woman of extremes. I love, love, love what I love, and I abhor, detest, hate what I don’t love. The pathetic reality is that 25 years of living without most American-style creature comforts has not cured me of my wimpy ways.

People back home have it all wrong if they think I am some rough and ready jungle woman. One phrase that makes me cringe is, “Oh, I could never do what you do….” As if I just love being uncomfortable.

Who actually enjoys discomfort?

Only by the grace of God do I occasionally do without my creature comforts. It’s one thing to serve with all my heart, but when it involves an aching back, somehow I find myself recoiling.

One quick trip to an Indian village last week and my flesh cried out like the spoiled baby apparently I am. I am addicted to being pleasantly comfortable. I am ashamed of myself. After all this time, I still want what I want, when I want it, and with a La-Z-boy recliner while you’re at it, please.

Our little adventure was an assault on my senses. About an hour into the journey, strong gas fumes started filling the inside of the Suburban, with or without open windows. That was not fun. During the showing of the Jesus film, I was thoroughly distracted by the smell of smoky clothing from cooking fires, body odors, and cloth diapers that needed to be changed. Again, the curse of an astute sniffer.

My taste buds, on the other hand, had no complaints. The children might beg to differ, but I thought even the eggs scrambled with onion and green beans were delicious. Add salsa and fresh corn tortillas—and anything is fabulous. However, my ears grumbled inwardly after hours and hours of listening to ranchero-style music on the bus for many hours on the way home. It was all I could do to not scream out “STOP! Enough already!” (How long could you handle listening to this?)

The worst assault was on my physical body. Sleeping on a hard floor, reading, trying to relax, having devotions on a wooden pew bench, and waiting on a concrete slab for the car’s problem to be diagnosed—well, let’s just say that I was not overindulged in the comfort department. It wasn’t overly comfy being banged around on the bus either, having one fellow passenger poke me with her elbow, and another stab my foot with her umbrella as we were thrashed with the twists and turns of the road.

I used to laugh at the stories short-term teams relate when they come down, but on some unconscious level I think I felt I had already paid my dues, that I was somehow entitled to take it easy from here on out. Not so.

Maybe I get some credit for not complaining (I know my three children sure won some points with me for their flexibility without grumbling!), but I know I didn’t earn high marks overall. I pity my dh, who will have to go back with a mechanic to fix and retrieve our Suburban.

From the (ridiculous) comfort of my cushy couch, I have pondered my dubious “suffering. “ Truly it was no sacrifice at all. In contrast, anyone in the village we visited who comes to Christ must pay a fine to the town, an amount equivalent to a full year’s salary. They sacrifice one year of labor (in a rather uncomfortable place, imho*) – just for choosing to follow Christ. Can you imagine?

IRL*Forsaking all to follow Jesus is more than words to an upbeat song.

[*see Jamie-Jo Speak in sidebar]