Five Minute Friday- Identity

"On Fridays over here a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes. Unscripted. Unedited. Real."
http://thegypsymama.com/

GO


I seem to have always struggled with finding my identity.
In high school I was never one of those kids who was good at that "one thing," I was just semi-not really-kind of- pretended like I was good at many different things.
Even through college and in the early years of my marriage, my identity was a subject that constantly threw me into a state of inward battle.
Because frankly, I am flaky.
I am undefined.
I am forever changing. My opinions ever swaying.
I am neither this, nor that.
And I have grown to embrace it.
And my husband, well I think he tolerates it. And laughs at it. And loves me all the same.
The only thing on which I want to place my identity, is the cross of Christ.
Everything else... Who knows? Certainly not I!

STOP

Please pass the earplugs.

"ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

And that is the sound you will hear if you spend more than five minutes at the Frizzell household.

It has translated to many different statements....

"I'm bored."
"Feed me."
"I just left a gift for you in my diaper."
"Why is it so quiet around here?"
"I have an impeccable singing voice, don't you think?"
"Why are you looking at me?"
"Why aren't you looking at me?"
"I smell coffee. Hand it over and nobody gets hurt." *

How could such a sweet, little sort-of-little thing make such a big noise?

Poor Andy, who has always had a difficulty with loud noises, has learned how to manage, and even laugh at, these random and LOUD outbursts. Bless him.

True, with becoming a parent there are many sacrifices to be made...

Like sleep. And your eardrums. And your obsessive compulsion to keep things in an orderly manner. And alone time. And date nights. And sleep. And drinking your coffee before it gets cold. And sleep. And taking a shower before 5pm. And sleep. And going to the bathroom alone. And sleep. And sleep. And sleep.

But man. It is SO worth it.

In this exceptional book I just finished, Spirit-Led Parenting, (a must-read for every new mom) the author says,

"There are moments in parenting our children when we feel as though our hearts might burst, so deep and extravagant is our love for them. How incredibly and wonderfully kind of God to allow us to experience this level of connection to our children that we might know a little more of how He loves us."

Every giggle. Every smile. Every reach of the arms that says, "pick me up." Every open-mouth, slobbery kiss. Every crinkle of the nose. Every twinkle of the eye. Every excited little kick of the legs.  Every turn of the head to make sure you're still watching. Every clap of the hands. And even every heart-attack inducing, ear-splitting, unfathomably loud exclamation.

These are those moments.

These are the things that turn all of those "sacrifices" into tiny grains of sand on our vast beach of love. (Like, totally far out, dude.)

Just last night, it was a fight, yet again, to get Eden down to sleep. (Someone please tell me why babies fight sleep so much? I don't get it! Sleep is a beautiful thing. I, for one, happen to love it.) After an hour or so of this night time battle, I finally surrendered to this strong-willed 7 month old and brought her back downstairs, curled up on the couch next to Andy, and, with tears in my eyes, I exclaimed, "I am so EXHAUSTED!"
And then this baby, who only minutes before had brought upon me loads of frustration, looked up innocently in my eyes and gave me that beautiful, gummy smile that I love so deeply.
And in that moment, I felt grace. And humility. And that heart-bursting love.
For my Father continually pours out redemption upon this strong-willed 26 year old, whose selfish nature is, regrettably, in daily battle with His will, His good and perfect will.

*Don't worry, CPS, we do not give our baby coffee. But she is a Frizzell, she was born with an innate desire for the liquid magic, hence forth her strong proclamations on the matter.

5 minute Friday: Community

GO
We were created to be together. God said "it is not good for man to be alone," and while he was speaking in context about the woman, it could possibly apply to all facets of life.
We were designed to have that innate desire to be a part of something. To belong. To be included. Although it is necessary to take moments alone (look at the example of Christ taking time to retreat and pray), God has created us to be in communion with one another. It is this community that has kept me afloat during even the deepest of floods. I am forever thankful to Christ's church, to this community of believers, that leaves me feeling connected even in my moments when I am most alone.
STOP*

*thank goodness for these 5 minute Friday challenges, otherwise my blog would go untouched. Eeek.

Five Minute Friday- Together

Lately I've been subscribing to other mom-bloggers, such as the Gypsy Mama, who challenged us to a Five Minute Friday on the topic of "Together."  so here it goes...

GO

Together we move mountains. Together we have climbed mountains. Together we are better.
Our travels...
Europe, Cross Country, California.
Our hobbies...
coffee, music, and well... coffee and music.
Our hopes and dreams.
Our faith.
Our love.
Our crazy, hilarious little offspring.
Together, we are better.
No one can quite understand our uncool/unhip/unfunny funniness.
But that's how we like it.
Best friend, Husband, Love,
I'm better when we're together.

STOP


Aaaand, how lame am I, that that took up 5 whole minutes? But there you go.
I need more practice.

Domestic-ified

So due a friendly "discussion" sweet Andy and I had a few nights back, I've been on this self-proclaimed mission to become more like the Proverbs 31 woman, a woman I have long admired, envied, and placed up there with all of those other heros, whose superpowers were impossible for little 'ol me to obtain. I mean, I might as well desire to fly.
But as self realization hit, which it so often does in the most inopportune of times, I discovered there were many opportunities to better my domestic-ified (always take the liberty to make up new words) self that I let slip right by (admittedly, most of the time, on purpose). Many times without realization (okay, okay. It's realized. There, I said it.), I often seek the help of my emotionally and mentally drained, hard working, minister husband for matters in which I am perfectly capable and should be handling myself.
This is in no way a challenge placed before me by my husband. He would gladly and lovingly help me in all things "housewifish," and has done so since the birth of Eden. But... hello! I am not still nurturing a newborn here. Now that she is 7 months old (I know! I can't believe it either!) I really need to be stepping up my game as a homemaker.
And so for the last week, I've have put forth more of an effort, picking up as I go, staying on top of laundry, digging into a few organizational type projects, and even (gasp!) planning out our menu and cooking at home for the whole week. I know, I know, these are things even single college BOYS can do, but for some reason, not this unorganized, unkempt, unmotivated girl. Somehow the Susie Homemaker gene skipped my generation. (My mother is not only a domestic diva, she is a Housekeeping Queen.)
Anyway, even these minor efforts have made such a difference in my daily outlook on mothering life. I finally feel as if I'm (just ever so slightly) able to balance being a wife, mother, and keeper of the home.
But please don't judge if you happen to stop by, I've warned you, I'm only taking BABY STEPS.
I would just like to please warrant your prayers in my quest for becoming a bit more like the Warrior Woman who is found in the great Book of Wisdom.

A good woman is hard to find, 

   and worth far more than diamonds.

Her husband trusts her without reserve, 

   and never has reason to regret it.

Never spiteful, she treats him generously 

   all her life long.

She shops around for the best yarns and cottons, 

   and enjoys knitting and sewing.

She's like a trading ship that sails to faraway places 

   and brings back exotic surprises.

She's up before dawn, preparing breakfast 

   for her family and organizing her day.

She looks over a field and buys it, 

   then, with money she's put aside, plants a garden.

First thing in the morning, she dresses for work, 

   rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started.

She senses the worth of her work, 

   is in no hurry to call it quits for the day.

She's skilled in the crafts of home and hearth, 

   diligent in homemaking.

She's quick to assist anyone in need, 

   reaches out to help the poor.

She doesn't worry about her family when it snows; 

   their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear.

She makes her own clothing, 

   and dresses in colorful linens and silks.

Her husband is greatly respected 

   when he deliberates with the city fathers.

She designs gowns and sells them, 

   brings the sweaters she knits to the dress shops.

Her clothes are well-made and elegant, 

   and she always faces tomorrow with a smile.

When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say, 

   and she always says it kindly.

She keeps an eye on everyone in her household, 

   and keeps them all busy and productive.

Her children respect and bless her; 

   her husband joins in with words of praise:

"Many women have done wonderful things, 

   but you've outclassed them all!"

Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades. 

   The woman to be admired and praised 

   is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God.

Give her everything she deserves! 

   Festoon her life with praises!**

**I understand that this woman is so much more than just a good homemaker, but like I said, baby steps.

Prayer Challenge

Just a quick post before Eden wakes from her nap...
While browsing Pinterest, I came across this prayer challenge, and I was just overcome with conviction. I know I need to pray for my husband, and I try to often, but in reading this, I knew I had to change my quick and simple "thank you God for Andy" type prayers.
Who am I to hold Andy to such a high standard of husbandry expectation, if I'm not praying daily, and in great depth, for him?
Our lives have drastically shifted in the last year, with the birth of our daughter. And while I so often pretend that our relationship is as it once was, truthfully I know that I there are so many times that Andy is not receiving the full amount of love, attention, and respect he deserves. And so I take on this challenge, committing to pray this daily for my husband. Will all of you other wives join me? Let's hold our husbands to a higher standard, keeping them accountable. If we want our husbands to be the spiritual men we know God has created them to be, we must first do our part as their wives, and be in daily and active prayer for them.

Like a Bridge Over Troubled Waters...

So something strange, and a bit unnerving, has been occurring at the Frizzell household as of late. No, no it's not Andy's missing facial hair (though it has taken some time, and a few long ruminating stares, for me to become acclimated to his new look). Recently our sweet little 6 1/2 month old daughter has been crying. I know!!! Preposterous!!! But it hasn't just been her normal, everyday, "I'm hungry," "I'm sleepy," I'm poopy," cries. Rather, it's more of a "I'm in a glass case of emotion!" estrogen-filled, dramatically rendered, 6 month-old version of typical teenage-girl despair. One minute she's fine, smiling and cooing in that innocent, sure-to-soon-be-dripping-with-southern-drawl, little voice of hers, and before we know it, this once sweet child is hysterically, inconsolably crying, arms flailing and legs kicking. Then the next minute, she's laughing! (Laughing at our momentarily panicked reaction is what she's really doing.) And like a spinning record, stuck on the same verse, the process is repeated. Over and over. Whenever this happens, Andy and I can't help but look at each other and laugh (as soon as we realize she's not in dire need of medical attention), for we know, this is merely the beginning.(Andy is a youth minister, after all.) She is her mother's daughter.

And so I write this, not really for the benefit of any of you crazy people who actually read this fair-weathered blog, but more as a future reminder to myself: this girl has pure, raw (and sometimes in controllable) emotions. Something that is evident at only 6 months of age, and without a doubt, sure to increase over time. AND THAT IS OKAY. No matter what her age, no matter what the circumstances, her feelings are valid. They are real. And even if the problem is seemingly minute to her most-likely-to-be-clueless parents, to her, it may feel as if the world is crashing down. I want to be a mother that listens. Who, at the very least, tries to understand, even if it at times seems impossible. Who fights for whatever she deems worthy enough to fight for herself.
Not once do I ever remember my own mother telling me to "stop crying." Even if my emotions were flying off the handle and completely unreasonable, my mom treated them with a credibility that they most likely did not deserve, something I wish to carry on for my own daughter. I pray that she is never afraid to show her emotion (and with her father, I doubt that will be a problem...love you, Andy). For the tender heart that lays within her, will one day (oh, fervently I pray), beat in rapid emotion for her Heavenly Father.