My Vault of Memories

My mammaw has been on my mind alot since she passed away almost a year ago.

She comes to mind when I see my sons interacting. She would love to see them, and she would tell us how they remind her of my dad and my uncle. She didn't get to meet my youngest but I know she would tell me to bring him over to her and let her "give him some sugar" (pronounced soo-ga and followed by kisses all over his face.

Oh how I miss her. But I've been realizing I've missed her for longer than the year she's been with her Lord and Savior. Over the past several years, her health had declined and she was different than I remember.

I remember her cooking for us and the laugh that followed something we said. I miss her hands, nimble and quick, playing her guitar or patting her knee in time with the music. I miss going to the thrift store and to yard sales with her. She would pray before we went, and would find such great things there.

I miss how she was with my pappaw. I miss that they went to church and sat next to each other in the same spot every Sunday. When he died in 1999, she changed - or maybe it was just the first time I remember seeing her sad.

Some days I want to go back to when I was 8, when we lived close to them and visited often. When they took us places and let us eat pizza while watching Cartoon Network. When I didn't know about death and pain. When my biggest worry was how to decide what to play with after I was done with schoolwork.

I know I can't go back and I know the reunion in heaven will be much better than any of my memories. However, I'm enjoying remembering the time and carefully folding each one up and tucking it back into my vault.

After all, living in the past would mean we never moved from Washington, DC to Ohio. It would mean I wouldn't have my youngest brother. It would mean I never looked at schools in Chicago. It would mean all those friends I've made in all the places I've lived wouldn't be in my life. Lastly, it would mean I wouldn't have my husband or my children.

I would miss out on more than I would gain by living in the past. This is why I treasure my vault of memories that I can go to again and again. I can enjoy my present, adding to my vault. The future is to give me hope of more and better things and for the reunion in Heaven.

Accidental Quinoa and Oat Granola

I make granola weekly because it's one of the only things my 2 1/2 year old son will eat. A normal batch is 1/2 cup molasses, 1/2 cup canola oil, and 4 cups of rolled oats. I whisk the oil and molasses together until uniform and then stir in the oats. I spread this out onto a greased baker's half sheet and bake for 30 min at 325 degrees, stirring halfway through.

For the past few weeks, I've tried making a double batch in order to save some work. I can't help but chuckle at this right now and you'll see why in a bit. So back to the idea of saving work with a double batch. It hasn't worked the past few weeks because my husband just has a bigger bowl at breakfast.

I still hope for a week off so this morning I started with a double batch in mind. In goes 1 cup oil, then 1 cup molasses (measuring the oil in the cup first then reusing it to measure the molasses makes it come out cleanly). I whisk it together then head to the pantry for the oatmeal.

Low and behold, we're almost out of rolled oats and I have no where close to the 8 cups needed. Panicking a smidge while rummaging through the shelves, I find 4 packets of instant oatmeal, 2/3 cup red quinoa, and 1 1/2 cup steel cut oats. Still not enough for a normal ratio of coating to crunch, but it will have to do.

I stir all of this in and spread it over a greased baker's half sheet.
Then cross my fingers and hope it will be good enough for tomorrow's breakfast.
15 minutes pass, I stir the granola and flatten it back out. Mind you it's bubbling around the edges because there's too much coating, but ... whatever.

Then it's time to bring it out. It's making "giant crumbs" as my son calls them as I scrape it off the pan, but it's taking forever to cool. My curiosity about the taste overrides my fear of burning my tongue and I take a bite. It's surprisingly hearty and very good! I kinda wanted to eat it all then and there.

...

This should be where my story ends. Happy with my ingenuity in solving an issue and creating a new favorite whilst winning Super Mommy points to top it all. But...no... I decide to push it. I put the granola away warm, so I can ensure some "giant crumbs" stay intact for my son.

Later in the afternoon, I can't resist and want a bowl. Nothing shakes out...it has turned into ONE GIANT CRUMB!! I hurriedly try to shake the container to break it up, turning it...upside down.

This is when some of you would be yelling at the screen, "NO...DON'T!!"

I swear I saw it happen in slow motion. The lid let loose and half of the full container comes out in scattering pieces all over my kitchen (I just found more on top of my fridge). I am able to slam it down so the other half, still one big crumb, stays in the container. I step back and my son sums it up nicely, "You made a big mess!" I love that kid and am so thankful for his comic relief.

You can see now why I chuckled in the beginning about my motive to save myself some work. As I swept the floor and wiped the counters, I wish a moral deeper than this came to me: Laugh at yourself...cause if you don't you might be taking yourself too seriously!

GOD LOVES YOU

ENJOY LIFE
-Cindy

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Accidental Quinoa and Oat Granola

1 cup oil

1 cup molasses (1/2 cup of both of these will probably be fine)

2 cups rolled oats

1 1/2 cups steel cut oats

4 packets instant oatmeal

2/3 cups red quinoa

Whisk oil and molasses until uniform and stir in grains until coated. 

Spread over a greased half baker's sheet and bake at 325 degrees for 30-35 min, stirring after 15 minutes to avoid burning.

After removing from oven stir granola to loosen from pan. 

LET COOL COMPLETELY

Break into pieces and store in air tight container. 

Enjoy!

2015, a hard year

As I sit and contemplate all that has happened this past year, I realize I’m extremely blessed. I always knew that God was in the little things but this year they have been what I have clung to as my world felt lifted up and left to free fall. I started out 2015 knowing another little one (Paul, born July 10, is such a joy to us) would join our family but terrified that I would miscarry again (Baby Gillespie left us in October 2014). Then cancer came in waves to both sides of my family. My grandmother (my mom’s mom) was given 6 months to a year after an extremely aggressive form of brain cancer was diagnosed. At the same time, my mother-in-law was diagnosed with breast cancer. Within a week after all this news came, my Mammaw (my dad’s mom) came down with pneumonia and was not looking like she was going to bounce back. In my own body, depression and hormones were feeding the fear. I was slowly losing while depression was quickly winning the war in my mind, slowly eeking into my heart. As Mammaw lost the fight but joined our Savior in heaven in March, our family transitioned into our most challenging year of our lives. I almost dreaded talking to my family for fear of new bad news. Our baby continued to grow and develop inside me. Winter broke and turned to spring. I was struggling with depression even with the change in weather and had trouble finding happy moments, even with a bouncy toddler and a supportive and loving husband. We knew we would miss Caleb’s sister’s wedding and many family gatherings because of the baby’s timing. Grandma Jane’s condition was deteriorating but she said she had unfinished business, she had to meet her grandson. My mother-in-law was getting treatments and responding well to chemo. 

We met summer with projects for home and yard, a few too many for both of our tastes but all were soon eclipsed on July 10^th (eight days early) when Paul joined us. Caleb had biked to work so the call to come home at noon got us to the hospital at 3 pm and Paul was born at 5:07 pm. He was the turning point in our year. We knew he would be. Grandma Jane went into hospice but was able to hear Paul over the phone and see pictures of him from the hospital. Even though she had trouble finding words (a new normal since her diagnosis), she smiled and said, “Baby, baby, baby.” Less than a week later, she was in her eternal home. We finally got to see family as they came to meet Paul. Fall quickly passed and our children grew. Our family was cancer free when my mother-in-law finished up her surgeries and is recovering well. We visited family before Thanksgiving and now at Christmas.

I look back on this year and see God in all of it, calling to me, “cling to me, you are mine, I’m with you.” Just like he has my entire life, he kept me in palm of his hand. These aren’t clichés to me. These are truths that comfort me.

Now I’m seeing him point me back to work on my desire for a creative business, to make, because my creator created me to create. I miss my Grandma Jane and my Mammaw…more than words can express fully. I love my family and the support they give me, even if it’s accompanied by new wrinkles and some eye rolls. Thanks to anyone who has played a role in my year. I hope that 2016 is not as difficult but is full of growth in God’s plan. 

Motherhood Makes Time Fly

Last week, I was looking at my blog to find something I wrote. I thought it would be only a few months back but when I looked at the post, it was 9 months ago!

Why is it that my brain seems to have skipped over almost a year? I do look back and realize a lot went on, but I remember feeling time pass more slowly. I remember getting to the end of a school year and feeling like I'd lived through a lifetime.

Now, every day seems long, until nap time then it flies :). I see my son growing into a little boy and get glimpses of the man he will be.

I pray that God shows me what moments to embrace and remember and what ones I can let go.

What I want for my son

Today concluded a short Bible study on conversations you should have with your son.

While I can't actually have a conversation with my son, even though he's starting to mimic sounds :), my husband and I should get our game plan together because those opportunities will come all too quickly.

Teaching my son to be a godly man is a very daunting task. I know that I have great examples to follow and wonderful resources all around me. While making the most of these opportunities, I'm planning to prepare for those times coming around the bend where teaching my son what God wants from him and how he can please God will be possible.

My example won't be a direct showing of how a godly man behaves because ...well... I'm not a man. But I can take it as a teachable time to show my son what a godly woman looks like and how strong she can be. He hopefully will see that relying on God for identity and purpose is what makes true beauty.

I'm a ways from being confident in that truth. I hope that I see the ways that God is giving me the wisdom and the confidence to teach my son by example about all that God has for him, because He is the only one who wants more for my son than my husband or I do.

Supermom VS. The Fear of Mediocrity

As I'm now in the beginning of my journey as a mom, I'm fighting an old fight that has been with me for almost as long as I can remember. This struggle became glaringly apparent in college as I pursued a degree in architecture.

One day at a desk critique, my professor tells me if I don't start trying harder I'm only going to ever be mediocre. He went on to explain my designs were average at best. The whole time I was choking back tears. My professors had over the years made it clear that these critiques were about our work, not about us, so not to take what is said personally.

I know and have told myself he was trying to motivate me with these words, but these words have hurt me and are still affecting me. Even six years later, I'm scared of being mediocre, not adding anything original or worthwhile to the world.

I admit that the base reason I gave up on my pursuit of becoming a licensed architect is because of this fear. This conversation with my professor did not plant this seed of fear in me, it mainly amplified it to the point where I could not ignore it or live in bliss of ignorance I had lived in before.  My idealistic views of my future were shattered that day and were not repaired as my college years in the program went on.

Going to college, I was under the illusion that I would go to school and learn how to take my field by storm. This was partly naiveté, on my part. I did not do enough research ahead of time to make sure I was making an appropriate career path choice.

With this naiveté and fly by the seat of my pants mentality, I was setting myself up for a brick wall collision somewhere along the way. I'm surprised it took until the end of Sophomore year!

I tried harder, but soon realized I was at my peak far behind my classmates. With a shortage of jobs because of a collapse in the housing and building market, I found I could not compete for the few jobs available because of the nagging reminders that I wasn't good enough or trying hard enough.

Soon, I was exhausted. Between the strenuous hours of studio work, my graduation date rushing towards me, and the hunt for a job, I was barely sleeping and stressed to the max. All the while, I was terrified of mediocrity. I was tired of not making a mark on the people around me.

I was struggling to see my purpose.

Realizing I'd have to move in with parents after graduation because of a lack of a job, I knew that was the end to my architectural pursuits. They lived in an area with even fewer architecture job opportunities than where my school was! The job market everywhere was flooded with more experienced candidates and time passing only meant more recent graduates would be coming on the scene as well. I knew I couldn't compete. Maybe it was the voice in my head saying, you're just mediocre, maybe it was reality finally hitting that this was not my skill set.

Either way, I gave up, got three part-time jobs since my school loans were coming due and tried to distract myself from my classmates getting internships and returning to school for their masters degree. I wanted to go back to be with friends but knew the course load would be too much for me.

That time after graduation wasn't all bad. Because of living closer to my family and my boyfriend, I was able to reinvest in those relationships I had neglected. My boyfriend became my husband, and my family became friends on a new level. So many blessing came from being home for those two years after graduation.

Now with life settling after marriage, a move across three states, and a baby, I've been able to process all these changes in a new light and realize the fear of mediocrity has followed me. It's been with me well before my sophomore year of college, and is still hard to shake.

Today, aspirations of being a "Supermom" seem to be my way of battling my fear of mediocrity. I must excel at what I do to battle that broken record in my head telling me I'll never be more than average.

I've found that record plays louder when I'm in a spiritual desert. When I'm not relying on God, I seem to let my thoughts of self doubt play louder.

The more time in this desert, the more ways my thoughts bring out my insecurities.

I find myself in a new spiritual desert now as I'm battling exhaustion, sleep deprivation, separation from family, endless household tasks, all while trying to embrace my changing child and keep my marriage strong.

As much as I hated hearing her say this over and over when I was younger, I find the words of my mother entering my thoughts: Your identity is in Christ as a child of God. Remember whose you are.

I obviously have failed Christ in many ways as anyone has. HE, however, has extended grace so that even if I am average or mediocre at best:

HE still died for me!

HE still provided a way of salvation for me.

HE still loves me and pursues me to be closer to HIM!

The Myth of Supermom

There once was a woman who had several children and provided for all of them without her sparkling smile leaving her face. While preparing her daily organic gourmet meals and perfect chocolate chip cookies (just in time for her children coming home from school) her apron cinched her waist while displaying her symmetrical form. Even though her body looks effortlessly flawless, she'll let you know her daily runs are the true reason for her slender form--that and her eight glasses of water a day as well as all the fruits and veggies she snacks on. She never passes on a bake sale but never over indulges on any treat.

You never see her sweat. She could run a marathon or face a firing squad without a hair falling out of place.

Her children are so well behaved, they could teach finishing school and their idea of rebellion is vacuuming the carpet in diagonal strokes.

Her wardrobe reflects current fashion without making her look like she's trying too hard or trying to hide her true age.

Her hair is coiffed in a style that is effortless but stylish and flattering.

Unrealistic as it seems, she never needs help, never takes a break, never waivers in her convictions or loyalties  She's caring, compassionate, vivacious, energetic, Perfect!

She exposes all your insecurities in blinding light. Everything you struggle with she masters with ease and excels through any turbulence.

She turns you into a green-eyed monster.

She's Supermom! (queue the brass band and the fireworks announcing her arrival)
She can't be real...oh, wait, she's not...she's a myth.

Yes, there are real women who seem super human in the mom department, but they are an exception. Even those who exceed common conceptions of motherhood, fail in other areas.

I've aspired to be the mythical supermom, and even my short experience has shown failures to live up to those mythical expectations.

If we as mothers are setting ourselves up for failure by believing this myth of motherhood is ideal, what image of motherhood should we embrace rather than this myth?

I'm going to be working through different areas of the Supermom Myth in coming posts. If you have stories or insights
, please share as this is a complicated issue. There are the pressures from society, from yourself, from family. Some are valid, some are not. I am personally working through my idea of the mom I want to be and this will be one of my outlets to sort this out.