Savoring the suffering

Ecclesiastes 7:2-3 It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of everyone; the living should take this to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better and gains gladness.


Let me just put this out there:  I love eating.   Going out to eat, cooking for people, holiday meals, sharing dinner with a friend...all of it.    All-inclusive food in resorts and on cruises? Yes, please.  YES.  I just LOVE it.  I read this Twitter post yesterday and it made me laugh:  "Dear men, Actually our dream isn't finding the perfect guy, it's being able to eat without getting fat. Sincerely, women."  True story!


So, when I recently read Ecclesiastes 7 (after listening to the song story for this song - more on that later), I was confuzzled at first.  Based on experience, the logic struck me as a little strange.   A house of feasting is fun.  But, I've been to the house of mourning on a few occasions.  Not so fun.   When I think of mourning, I think of September 11.  I was still living in NYC on what started off as a perfect Tuesday.  After the planes hit, I saw fear and disbelief on the faces of people in the streets.  I watched those buildings fall with my own eyes.  I know people who lost loved ones.  I know people who survived.  My brother-in-law was a cop who worked down there in the days and weeks that followed.  I have never seen so much mourning in my life as I did in the time following that horrific day.  


But I have also never seen so much hope. I remember that my church was packed for months after that.  Heroes abounded.  Random acts of kindness spread.   New Yorkers were actually nice to each other.  Even though I deeply wish it never happened, that Tuesday changed a lot of people, for the good, forever.  Tragedies have a way of reminding us how short life is.  That's what Solomon is talking in that verse.  Mourning reminds you to live well.  Now. 

Chances are you've dealt with intense sorrow at some point in your life.  There are plenty of things worse than divorce, but divorce is one thing I can speak to.  The sorrow of betrayal is deep.  The humiliation is terrible.  Life is interrupted, lies are exposed and confusion abounds.  Sometimes the hurt is so heavy that it truly is hard to breathe.  If you've been there or in a million other places of pain that doesn't make sense, you know. Yet, I can say this now:  More than three years after the worst of the worst days, I wouldn't trade that pain for the world.  I've never felt closer to God and I've never felt God was closer to me.  Friends surrounded me.  My kids gave me unspeakable joy and most days, they were the only reason I smiled.  That pain helped me more than it hurt me.  It taught me some very valuable lessons about life and love, and made me appreciate times of "feasting".  The tears stung but, like a good cleaning, they scoured my heart (Ecc. 7:3 MSG) and made it glad.


I guarantee you, at the time I wasn't thinking "Phew! I'm glad life SUCKS right now because my heart really needs some scouring!"  I'm not that wise (at all).  Looking back though, I see the good in it.  I see how it's helped me help others and how I'm a better woman and mother for it.  I'm still learning (sometimes the hard way), but definitely an improved Sarah.  


The other day something happened that hurt me. Minor, but it just opened up a lot of other wounds and I found myself sulking around and wanting Ben and Jerry's.  That night I heard the song I've linked to below (which led me to the chapter in Ecclesiastes) and it reminded me that there is no hurt on earth that God can't handle.  And just when you think you can't take one.more.second., the hurt and the Healer collide.  


Whatever you're facing today, as painful as it may be, savor the suffering.  Breathe it in 
deep and know that not a tear is wasted.  Let your heart be glad.  You're alive.

Motherhood Mondays: We all need a reminder

One day she'll wear real heels :(

Oh believe me, I know how it is.  A new morning begins and, as many times as you think today is the day you're going to have it all together, it never quite works out that way. I set my alarm for 5:00 am every day.  Then when it goes off, I roll over and press snooze, thinking all I need is five extra minutes.  Except I need those five extra minutes about 4 times.  Every night I convince myself I will really wake at 5:00 am.  And every morning I press snooze.

My life is full.  Full of craziness, yes.  Full of me losing my temper and coming very near to losing my mind, hell yes.  But it's full of some really amazing things too: contagious laughter, excellent report cards, health, cute preschool songs sung by an even cuter voice, little girl manicures, and not-so-little-but-always-little-to-me boy hugs.  I mean, I really couldn't ask for more.

I read a quote recently that said "The days are long, but the years are short".  Isn't that the truth?!  It made me think of how I spend those long (sometimes very long) days.

I read the blog below today, guest written by one of my favorite authors, Ann Voskamp (you can find her actual blog here). Her words challenged me because all too often I find myself missing out on precious moments because I play one more round of Words With Friends, send one more work email, answer one more text message.  The truth is, those things will always be there and there will always be more and more (and more) of them.  These long days though, they pass quickly. It feels like yesterday I was throwing up in what felt like every train station in NYC, living out the disgusting stage of pregnancy that lasted well into the first and second...and third...trimester.  (I also threw up while sitting AT the lunch table with my boss, but I digress). Now that tiny little body that made me barf is about to enter first grade.  Next thing you know, he'll have armpit hair, a cracking voice and raging hormones.  These times are just too special to waste.

I hope this blog inspires you as much as it did me!  Happy Monday!

Why the kids really need a little red hen mama

Winning Wednesdays: When your vacuum sucks (or doesn't)

There are few certainties in life; death, taxes, and your vacuum dying within three years of purchase. I've never met a vacuum I didn't hate.  And so begins this story...

Meet my frenemy, Bissell:

Oh, sure. He looks good.  He describes himself as "easy empty".  He throws out big phrases like "12 amps" and "dual edge cleaning".  Be fooled not.  His strong work ethic is short lived..  That's the way vacuums are. They suck. Well, actually, they don't suck...which is the problem I found myself with recently.  Every time I'd vacuum, I'd look over the path I 'd just completed, only to find more dust than when I began.  It made me crazy (well, if you know me, more crazy). I wanted to yell at him (okay, I did).  Rip up the carpets.  Move into the bathroom. ANYTHING to not have to deal with a broken vacuum.

So the days went on, and I decided I'd have to buy a new one.  Money was a little tight so I was waiting a couple of weeks. Meanwhile, the floors were filling with dust.  It annoyed me every time I looked at it, but I didn't know what to do.  So after a month, they were looking a little (a lot) disheveled.  Last week, I couldn't take it any more.  The superwoman deep, deep, deep inside of me decided to throw caution to the wind and try to repair it myself.

I went and pulled out my snazzy pink tool set.  Be jealous.  

The job called for dissembling the bottom of the vacuum .  Cue oh-so-chic pink screwdriver.  And yes, I really do look that rough at night.  And I'm blind. Feel free to laugh at me.

I noticed there was a bunch of funk in this tube thingy.  I don't know what it's called.  I have no interest in learning what it's called either.  I just noticed it wasn't supposed to be white, so I took a chance.

I got a wire hanger, which is the tool in my house voted Most Likely to be Used.  For everything.  Clogged toilet?  Wire hanger.  Clothes stuck behind the dryer?  Wire hanger.  Random junk stuck in vacuum hose thingy?  Wire hanger!

Using my trusty wire hanger, I slowly began to unpack the clump of crap...and this came out.  Oops.  I don't even know what it is, but I'm willing to bet it doesn't belong in a vacuum.

And then...Ahhhh-HA!  The hateful green crayon strikes again.  Why am I not surprised?  I have it on my walls and permanently melted inside my dryer.  Why would one NOT be in my vacuum hose?  

After a little more digging and a lot more sneezing, this was the pile of filth that I found in there.  Now I know vacuum hoses need to be cleaned.  Ooops.

I must admit, I wanted to flex my muscles when I was done.  Pat myself on the back.  Hug myself.  Tell myself I'm awesome.  Fix every other broken household item.  Instead I just rolled my eyes at myself, because after a month of complaining about it, I'd fixed it in less than 30 minutes. 

Just another job for Super Screwdriver

The next day I vacuumed all of the bedrooms with no issues.  #winning.

The moral of the story?  Just do.

I know as a single woman (and especially a single mom) running a household is no easy feat.  I don't have a handy bone in my body.  I don't even want one. Would it be easier to have a handy man around here?  You bet your butt.  But there's not...and that's okay.  In the past three years I have learned that sometimes just doing is better than just complaining. Or ignoring. Or worrying.  I'm preaching to the choir here because rarely do I just do.  I avoid household fix ups like the plague.  Yet, when I force myself to do whatever it is, I often find it isn't that big of a deal.  If I fix it, awesome.  If I call my tools mean names and never end up being able to fix it, awesome.  At least I tried.

Annnnnd for the surprise ending...my vacuum still sucks. Or doesn't. Which means it does.  But for those thirty minutes, I got clean rooms.

The winning is in the doing, anyway.