The Shower that I Used to Know

You know, I like a hot shower as much as the next gal. There is nothing like a shower to help wake you up in the morning, get you going, and feel ready for your day. However, my showers are a whole new experience these days.

Take today for instance: it is Saturday, I am done making/having breakfast with the family, it is time to get the day going so I clear my shower plans with my husband - he will be on duty for this 10 minute event. I get the all clear, I pick out my clothes for the morning: clothes that I can clean in, get food on when the girls "help me" make lunch, as well as something the boys can spit on because that is just going to happen. Jeans and layered T-shirts, check.

I am in the shower, I hear Emma. She is outside the door. In moments I am sure she will be inside the door. It is not like I don't lock the door, I do. But, thanks to my last blog (about Emma's love for keys), and my thoughtful sister, she now has keys that look just like mine and they are perfect for unlocking bathroom doors. 3...2...1..."Hi Mommy".

"Hi babe, Mommy is having a shower right now and I need some privacy."

"Ok, Mom." She shuts the door.

She is still inside. Apparently "privacy" doesn't apply to her.

Bang! Alina has arrived on her pink, ride on, princess car. "Hi Mommy"

"Hey everyone" (Where is daddy????)

"Ok, Ladies!" (There he is) "Mommy needs some privacy" and he hustles them out. I finish. I scramble to get dressed before the next appearance. I am sweating to beat the mob, I am going to need another shower. I barricade the door with the vanity drawer. I hear Alina outside the door, keys in hand. Rattle, rattle. No luck. I hear the pink car...CRASH. My barricade worked (successful smile to myself in the mirror - oh yeah, that's how I roll).

I am dressed - keys are still rattling so I open the door a little and Alina comes falling into the bathroom.

"Hi mommy, Me opened the door for you".

"Thanks honey".

Add this to the list of real estate that is given up when one has toddlers/small children.

We were visiting with some friends recently, and the dad was lamenting about his wife's inability to keep the kids out of the bathroom while she was doing her business. "I do not have one memory of my mother going to the bathroom! My children are going to be scarred for life. I come home from work and it is like they are having story time around the toilet".

WHAT IS HAPPENING TO US???

Dear Lord, we are going mad.

We don't sleep.

I told Emma yesterday that I get very cranky when she comes in first thing in the morning and makes demands of me and whines. So this morning at 6:15, I have a very perky toddler jumping beside my bed saying (so sweetly, but LOUDLY) "Moooommmmmy! I am hungry, and I want to watch something and I want to lay on the bed beside you and eat my snack and I need milk, my legs hurt and Alina woke me up.....Mommy, you are not waking up, I am hungry"

It is like a stun gun got shot right at my head. And my inner coach is telling me not to yell and scar my child for life, so I just lay there and try to think of a gentle response. So, I poke Shawn and pray he will have pity on my paralyzed self.

Instead, Samuel wakes up. So we are both on duty now. The day has started, we are off to the races. I need a hot shower.


wait a minute....

The Keri Harvey Way

There are many times that I wonder how Shawn does it. He is a quiet, alone time, kind of person. Before he married me he spent lots of time rollerblading, reading, programming computers, going to musicals and shows (which came in handy when I came on the scene) etc...he has many invisible boxes that you wouldn't really notice until you tromp through them.

That is where I come in (not to mention our 4 children).

I realized this again the other day when he was doing the dishes. He was looking out into our backyard, then I saw him kind of squint and lean forward like he was looking for something. I didn't have to look, I knew exactly what was catching his eye.

It was lettuce.

It was the lettuce I threw out there earlier in the week. I was aiming for the com-poster in the far corner of the yard, but I am a horrible aim so it landed on the deck. Actually the lettuce landed on the deck on the second throw, the first throw hit the roof of the patio and bounced back to hit my head.

I tried to explain that I wanted to do my part for the environment, but I couldn't take the time right then to take the lettuce to the com-poster (I have four small children you know, lots can happen in a small amount of time) so I threw it. When he looked at me with "those eyes" I shrugged and said "it's good for the soil". " IT IS NOT ON THE SOIL, IT IS ON THE DECK!" Details, details.

The head shake that follows these conversations is not new to me.

Emma is in a key phase, meaning she wants mine. She likes to pretend she is going shopping, etc... so she needs my keys to drive there. So I hand them over. Usually she is quite responsible and puts them in predictable places like her microwave in her play kitchen or her grocery cart, but last week she put them into one of her 2,000 purses and for the life of me I could not find them. I would ask her and she would say "they are in my purse", "which one?" I ask. Total silence. She doesn't remember. I couldn't find my keys for a week that time.

Then Shawn won't let me have his. The nerve. He thinks I should just say no to her. Silly man with such impractical solutions.

Emma also likes to sleep on our floor at night. Not every night, but when she does come, she needs to have her pink princess couch placed as close to me as possible with her brown pillow and big brown blanket, then her piggy and then her blanket. All of these components must be in place before she will go back to sleep.  I know it must sound crazy if your kids, or your future kids in your mind sleep through the night on a regular basis, but she has bad dreams and sometimes we don't think very clear in the middle of the night.  Anyway, I think Shawn is ready to burn that pink couch. The other night, in his delirium he muttered something along the lines of "Why did you go get the couch? Leave it in her room. One of these days I am going to burn that couch. I am going to get a lighter and burn that pink, princess couch while she stands there and watches it go up in flames. I am going to burn the couch, this time I am not kidding..."

I think I am providing lots of opportunities to build character, he should be grateful. I think it is my contribution to society.

I have a long and glorious history of building character in people's lives. Ask my sister.

When we were younger, I would do something bad during the day, such as spray furniture polish into the freezer to make it smell better. At night, I would lay awake dreaming that I had poisoned my mom because I saw her use the ice covered with Old English. So in my tormented state I would jump on my sister's bed at 2:00 AM to tell her that I was pretty sure I had killed our mother.

This was not too uncommon. My parents would be gone 10-15 minutes longer than I thought they should be and in my imagination they had been abducted, or killed in a car accident. So I would convince my sister to call the police and make a report. One time, the police were actually in our living room when my parents finally decided to come home - the police officer just looked at them and said "Where have you been???". Exactly, that is what I wanted to know! Visiting at the grocery store with old friends? A likely story, you need to call home if you are going to be late. This is common knowledge.

I have managed to survive these many years due in part to the Shawn's and Jamie's (my sister) of this world. They follow behind me, go in front of me and send disclaimers of all sorts that to be my friend is to enter at your own risk - so, here is my shout out to those of you who have patiently laughed at my craziness and protected me from the neighborhood kids that I yell at when I am still asleep (see earlier post about sleepwalking). Shawn still says he is going to put a safety lock on the front door way up high so I can't reach it in the middle of the night.

So, to all of you "systems" people out there, you can pray a little prayer for my husband tonight and maybe every day from here on out. You may want to hug your spouses a little tighter and thank God that you don't have lettuce on your deck this winter, that will stay there now until we brush it off in the spring.

He may have wished they went into a little more detail when they said "for better or for worse". But you are stuck with me now babe, thanks for not throwing me out with the lettuce.

candlesticks

I have seen the new version of Les Miserables twice now. I have to say that it was terribly uncomfortable both times. My heart was raw by the time it was over. The actors were so vulnerable in their singing, in their emoting, in their storytelling. It didn't help that every significant child featured looked like my Alina - big, blue eyes and blond hair. So much pain, hunger, waste. Yet so much beauty, redemption and hope. If you haven't seen the movie, play or read the book, consider this your spoiler alert.

I am a sucker for stories like these. Living and dying for a cause that is bigger than me, etc.. I was so stirred especially by the ending. (Who wasn't moved by the ending?) Don't we all want to be surrounded by those whom we have touched in our lifetime when that lifetime is coming to a close?

But In the end, it all boils down to the candlesticks. The priest who buys Valjean's soul with his act of mercy - he claims his life for God, and it works. The scene where Valjean decides to start again ended up being one of my favourite scenes of the movie. His papers - the statement given to him by the system, that declared him dangerous and a criminal - ripped up, thrown off the side of the mountain all to show that this man could begin again. I sure don't want to sound trite by pointing out the obvious metaphors in this movie, but they are so powerful and such a good reminder to each of us.

We get to start again. No matter what.

No matter what people say, no matter how much time has passed, no matter how badly we have behaved, we all get another chance, and another chance and another chance.

And yet there is Javert, and in his own words he decides that it is either Valjean, or himself. They cannot co-exist. In the end grace wins out.

It seems to me that these two trains of thought are timeless. These two approaches even to Christianity are the crux of most struggles that people have with our faith. I have heard the arguments from the ones who would lean toward  the Javert worldview - Law first, only Law, man must know that they are sinners and it is our job to tell them.

And I know the Valjean types, saved by mercy, totally aware of their unworthiness, completely grateful and determined to give back the love they were freely given, desperate for others to experience the freedom they know.

I pray to be the second.

My husband is always good at telling the story of GK Chesterton who said that children didn't need to be told that there is a bogeyman - they need to know that there is a hero who can slay him.

In the core of our hearts we know that we are desperately bankrupt, and hopelessly flawed. You can't convince me that we don't. What we need to know is that there is a Saviour who is bigger than the biggest messes we find ourselves in.

And we need to know that when we are ready to meet Him, His arms are open wide to embrace our broken hearts.

These mended hearts are the ones who will change the world.

It is the life that is filled with grace that is inviting, intriguing, unexplainable. Grace changes us so deeply - it has no stone to throw. It is a life ready to give a 1,000 chances because they know that they have been given that many if not more.

I think of our times and how history will tell our story. So many arguments about what kinds of guns we should or shouldn't allow, raising the debt ceiling, Democrats, Republicans, Bi-Partisan, no partisan...on and on it goes. What will be the legacy of our lifetime?

I just can't help but wonder what would happen if the world around us saw grace filled Christians living out their grace-filled lives daily? It would be a total game changer. I know it would be, because Les Miserables has been a blockbuster for decades.

I suppose for me I needed to be reminded that one life can make a difference. One story of redemption can jump over the lines of belief systems and bring us a message of hope and purpose. We all relate, because I imagine we all want to have the same story - My life mattered, my pain was made beautiful, my sacrifices made a difference for at least one other life.

"To love another person is to see the face of God"

Amazing.

attitude

You have heard it, I have heard it, but it bears repeating:

"The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.

Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a church... a home.
The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude... I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it.
And so it is with you... we are in charge of our attitudes."

Thank you Chuck Swindoll for one of the best summaries of attitude ever written. 

I think we all need to walk in empathy for others. We listen, we try to understand, we grow with people  and we lead. We do our best to guide, and not DRAG people through life's process. What we cannot control is how they will perceive us, and how they will respond to our voice. 

Add that to the list, the very loooonnnngg list of things I cannot control. I will name a few (feel free to add your own) I cannot control my husband, my children, my reputation, or how people perceive me. I cannot control how people will treat me, or how they will treat the words I speak to them; meaning they can choose to twist those words and make them into something completely different than I intended. 

I cannot control the weather, or another person's health, or the choices they make or don't make to take care of themselves. I cannot control the economy or the government...shall I go on? 

I have one card that I can play. I can play this card every time: 

my attitude (my outlook, my response when things do not go my way.) 

In case we need a refresher on how strong our inner toddler is, maybe we should be filmed the next time some one cuts us off in line, or speaks rudely to us in a store, or the worst...when someone in authority over us says "no" or "do it this way, not that way". 

You could come hang out at my house if you forgot what that looks like in its purest form. I get yelled at, the tantrums fly...I am sure you can imagine. Even then, do you know who is the only one with the power to calm themselves down? The toddler. So, I leave her in her room to stomp and storm, but she is clear...it is her job to turn that bad attitude around. Until she does, she is not fit for public. So, in her room she stays. 

Now, we are much more refined. No throwing or stomping (most of the time). 

But what about our hearts? Do we fuss and fume and find people who will tell us we are right and reinforce or offence with so and so? 

What do our tantrums sound like? Usually gossip and criticism. Throw in some whining and complaining and there! We have ourselves a good, old fashioned grown up temper tantrum. 

No one likes it when their will is crossed. I haven't met anyone anyway. But I have met, and I try to be like this, those who have learned the value of not getting their way. They have bent to another person's wisdom, and learned to humble themselves instead of demanding their own way. 

Do we say "I am sorry"? Do we say "I was wrong"? 

There are times when I need to walk myself to a quiet place and grab myself by the back of the neck and say "Listen up Keri Ann Harvey! You stop complaining and fussing! You grow up and respond like a redeemed woman of God" 

It is not comfortable, but what is the alternative? 

A child who is never crossed is what? 

Spoiled, of course. 

An teenager or adult who is never crossed is entitlement driven. We demand that people treat us a certain way before we will listen to them. 

I just don't believe this is the way of wisdom. 

Proverbs 6:6 

Take a lesson from the ants, you lazybones.
   Learn from their ways and become wise!

I am not calling anyone lazy, but I love the heart of Solomon who would learn from something as small as an ant. 

This is the truth: We can learn from ANYTHING if our hearts are bent to learn. We can also resist learning by demanding that everything comes in predictable packages that we find appropriate. 

I know that in the end, others will be judged for how they treated me. But - I will be judged for my response to all of it. I will be the one who benefits if I set my heart, my attitude, and my response to humble myself and learn life's hard lessons. 

This means I declare war on gossip, whining, complaining, self pity and criticism and I open my heart and hands wide to say "teach me, I am willing to learn." 

That 10% of life that happens to us can be a rough ride sometimes - but how I respond determines how the rest of my 90% turns out. 

what if

It started with a conversation. I was talking to a new friend in October. She lost her son to cancer a few years ago and she said "I did not think I could do life without this boy". I came home and hugged my baby boys tight and prayed that I would never have to walk out that particular heartache.

Then I went to see Lincoln - such a good movie by the way - there was a scene with a battlefield, you know, the typical battlefield scene, bodies stacked on top of each other, smoke rising from piles of who knows what? And it hit me, those were someone's sons. They were someone's fathers, and brothers. They were a mommy's baby once. I am sure this seems obvious, and I am sure that I have thought that before, but this time I have baby boys. Those could be MY babies. That could be my story...

Then the shooting in Newtown - I couldn't stop thinking of those families, about that whole town. What was their Christmas like? They will never hold their babies again. They will never see them get married, they will never go to another Christmas concert for that child, and on it goes.. Unspeakable, senseless, horrible reality they are living in right now.

We were in a bookstore the other day and I saw a title "When God asked for my Isaac", I didn't even want to look at it, but I did. Sure enough, it was about a story of a mother who lost her baby Isaac. And I have an Isaac....

So, yes, a little melodramatic so far but stay with me.

I realized by the time that I set that book back on the shelf that I had been letting a little hamster run on a wheel in the back of my mind. I realized that I have been worrying that something could happen to my kids.

We have fought long and hard for these little lives. I  hit my knees until they had bruises on them begging God for these children. Now that we have them, what would happen if something happened? What would I do? How would I survive?

I hate worry, but it sneaks up on me and it rumbles around for awhile before the back of my mind thoughts become the front of my mind thoughts and I realize I am starting to foster not just worry, but actual fear.  And the worry almost always starts with "what if". What if something happens to Shawn? What if something happened to one of the kids? What if our finances fall though? What if that person thinks that about me? What if I let these people down? What if? what if? what if?

And to this I say - What if?

What if those things happen?

Will I walk away from God? Will I bury myself in bitterness and self-pity? Will I close shop and stop letting people into my life?

I cannot.

I pray that I would have the fortitude to press into the pain and let the pain remind me that there is more to this life than the life we are living.

 that this is not the end.

One thing I know. This life is not the end. There will be a reunion. There will be a greater day. We who believe in Christ will go to a place where there is no more sorrow, no more pain, no more tears.

I know loss. I know heartache and grief. It is exhausting and difficult. But for grace -  until you are there, you can't know the grace that carries you through impossible storms.

Without it, it is impossible to survive and grow through it and to come out stronger on the other side. But with grace, we come out of that dark tunnel of disappointment, heartache and sorrow with beauty, strength, patience, courage and a host of lessons that we can offer to others who need a friend in their moment of suffering.

I dream of heaven. I cannot wait to hold my mom again. I ache for the beauty of worship that never ends.

But I am here, on earth. Destined to walk out God's dream for my life.

My assignment is to untether myself from the magnetic pull to find ultimate fulfillment in this life, and to remember that this is not my forever home. This must have been what was in the heart of the psalmist when they asked "Death, where is your sting?"

I pray that this is how families in Newtown Connecticut are finding their way through the unspeakable grief they are facing.

Today my assignment is to raise, with open hands, these beautiful children that giggle and bring me so much joy. I must not live with fear, but with laughter and boldness.

Forgive me for making the first post of the new year a little somber - but I just needed to get that out of me.

The best is yet to come. No matter how it comes.

With a smile to my future, I welcome you 2013.