Four Cold Water Bottles

It's Friday morning. Lyla is at a friend's house. I'm supposed to be cleaning my house with these precious, quiet hours but instead I'm sitting here at my kitchen table watching the giant, dead bush separating our yard from our neighbors' get cut down. It was on their property and they wanted to take it out. I don't love change. And I didn't love that bush. But it gave us a certain amount of privacy that felt good. It separated us from them. So I am freaking out a little on the inside, but I can't help but notice how much brighter our backyard is now... 

I've got this song on repeat this morning. I can't believe I didn't know about it before. It's hitting me right in the soul as I watch this bush come down. My heart hurts for people in our city. There are drugs. There's domestic violence. There is poverty. There is pain. There is brokenness. And these are the people I see at the grocery store. These are the people Eric works with at the clinic. These are the families of the babies he's delivered. These are our neighbors and we feel deeply for them. But we also struggle with burnout. It can be frustrating and hard to serve. It gets draining. It often seems pointless and we don't always see positive change. 

We sometimes think we need to do a lot... That we need to help this person beat their addiction or get this baby into a safer home situation. We want the man on the street corner to be able to find work or the woman in a bad relationship to get out. We feel this huge burden for our neighbors and a deep desire to help but it can get overwhelming and paralyzing. 

Maybe it's actually easier to love people than we think... Maybe it starts with four cold water bottles for the guys cutting down the dead bush out back. Or letting someone go first in line at the grocery store. Maybe it's waving at the man around the corner who sits outside his house in his wheelchair watching his dogs. Or teaching the next generation how to love our neighbors and each and every person they see, regardless of our differences...

There is a lot of hurt in our world. There's a lot of hurt in this country. There is a lot of hurt in Muncie, Indiana. There's even a lot of hurt in our little neighborhood. But there's actually a lot we can do about it. We just need to open our eyes to the wounds and let a little light in. 

I'm still sitting here at my kitchen table, but now there are tears streaming down my face as I see the four guys sitting in the shade taking a breather with said water bottles. I'm praying that God keeps showing us simple ways we can love. We can't always fix the deep wounds... We often don't even know what they are... But we can offer rest. A moment of peace. A cool drink of water. 

The dead bush is gone. There's no longer a mess of branches and leaves and twigs to separate us from our neighbors. A barrier has literally been broken down. What. A. Gift. What a beautiful opportunity to get to know them... To share and to love. There's already more light out back and I have a feeling it's just going to get brighter. 

Love and Kindness

A year ago we moved. Again. This was number five for us in our five years of marriage. It didn't make practical or financial sense. But we did it. We left downtown Des Moines for the suburbs, knowing full well that we would most likely be moving again the following summer. We traded a third-floor apartment on a busy street for a townhouse that opened right up to the yard and parking lot. It wasn't perfect, but there was fresh air, slower cars and fewer drugs (as far as we knew...) It was refreshing and it turned out to be a really good choice for our family.

We quickly met our neighbors and worked on building relationships. We soon learned that there were A LOT of kids in the neighborhood and they were on their own after school... Free to roam and play and, sometimes, get into trouble. Our next door neighbor kids became an added part of our little family for a few months before they themselves moved away. They would come over after school and tell us about their days. They'd stop by if they were bored or come in for a snack. They'd play with Lyla and they loved taking Scout out on walks. We spent many, many hours with them. We talked A LOT... Er, THEY talked a lot. We mostly listened. It wasn't always easy (see last post Re: love is vulnerable...) but I have fond memories of those sweet kids. And I miss them. A lot.

There is a point to this story, I promise. And, yes, it does have to do with the recent terrible news that just keeps on coming. It is sometimes hard to know what we can do to make the world a better place for all people. And especially better, and safer, for individuals in the Black community. What can I, as a middle-class-white-stay-at-home-mom, really do to fight injustice and promote peace and reconciliation? I spend most of my days at home, with a little girl who has no idea the craziness happening in her country and in the world.

But then I remember those kids who used to come over all the time... And I realize that, right there... That is a little part of the answer. It is raising our own children to love others... ALL others. It's showing our little ones, and their friends, that, despite our different skin colors and backgrounds, we are all loved by God and equally deserving of kindness (not to mention equally deserving of life itself...)

Please hear me when I say this: I DO NOT HAVE IT ALL FIGURED OUT. I am not AT ALL trying to brag or fish for praise. I certainly don't get it right all of the time, and am in need of enormous amounts of grace. I still struggle to figure out how I fit in this greater mission to create a safer society for our minority friends. In this case, we were blessed with a unique opportunity to love on some great kids and we took it. There are countless other opportunities that we miss. We cannot do it all.

But we can live in a way that demonstrates what it looks like to love each other.

It looks like pizza parties and movie nights... Water play and making messes... It's building forts and cleaning them up... It looks like an open door and a safe space to talk about middle school strife and at-home stress... It's loving someone else's kids as if they're your own and modeling for the future generations kindness and respect.

That is what this middle-class-white-stay-at-home-mom can do.

Sarah

Play Dough and Princess Undies

This point in our parenting journey with Lyla is an emotional doozy. I suppose they all have been in their own special ways. And truly, the reason has been there all along too... I simultaneously want to be able to stop time and hurry it up. When she whines for every. single. thing that she wants or needs: "time speed up". When she can't understand that I'm trying to help and fights me: "please, time, move it along". When she pulls away from me and throws a fit in the middle of Target: "time, FOR THE LOVE, just hurry up already!"

Then tonight I go into her room to check on her, expecting to find her sleeping soundly. Instead she looks up with those big blue eyes, reaches for me and says "cuddle chair". So that's what we do. I know it's a stalling tactic... She's too smart for our own good.... But we cuddle in the chair... Because I know she will only want to cuddle with her mama for so many more years... And I rock her just like I did when she was tiny, surrounded by the same nursery decor... Curtains sewn by my own mama and sweet paintings created by my most favorite sister-friend. She's all wrapped up in the same special quilt (only she's 2 feet taller now and her feet stick out over the side of the chair) as we rock, back and forth... Back and forth... I stroke her long, silky hair and kiss her warm still-chubby cheeks. And we sing. And pray. "Deeeir Jees"... She might not be able to say both syllables of 'Jesus' yet, but you can bet those beautiful little prayers reach His ears. 

And a tiny part (ok... a big part...) of me aches and I think, "Oh time... Please, please slow down." We bought her play dough and princess undies today. And I LOVE IT. I really do. I love that we are starting to do more kid stuff with her. I'm pumped for her to be potty trained someday, hopefully, in the near future... And for the tantrums to simmer down... For her to express her needs with words not whines... For easier, less embarrassing Target runs... But a tiny (read: big) part of me also mourns it. With each new stage we experience, she is moving a little further away from her mama. She is becoming more independent which, I hear, is one of the ultimate goals of parenting. But thinking about it--writing about it now--makes my eyes mist and my throat lump. So, as I begin this month that will mark two years of motherhood for me, this beautiful, heartbreaking quote is a precious reminder. Mamas, friends, readers: this is love. It fills us to overflowing and empties us of everything we have. It gets us excited for what is to come while keeping us grateful for what was. It is not always easy, but it is the only way to truly live. 

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable." -C.S. Lewis 

Sarah

Residency: Day One

Well, it’s a big day for the Westergren family. Eric’s very first day of Family Medicine residency. I don’t have the obligatory first day photo complete with white coat and stethoscope… But I do have this… 

We had to wake up Lyla early so we could drive Daddy to his first day. His car is in the shop and the missing white coat is in there as well. Oops. So, as he got Lyla buckled I saw a sweet photo op. This is how I imagine the next three years… Juggling daddy and husband and doctor in style. As I consider the residency experience, I’ve got a lot of voices and opinions swimming in my head. You hear both extremes and everything in between from people who hear you’re about to start. Some say it’s significantly better than med school. Some say I should just expect to do life on my own for the next three years. Others say it’s totally doable and that there will be time for our family even in the busyness of it all. So, as I consider all of the things people have told me, and pay special attention to the wise words of the other residency wives at his particular program, I have the following expectations for residency:

He’s going to work a lot. Early mornings. Unexpected late nights. Evenings when he bounds in the door at 5:00, ready to put on his daddy-hat. Late nights when he walks in wearily at 10:00 and needs bed. He will have to work some holidays. And some weekends. And he will have quite a few others off. Some Saturdays and Sundays he may need to round on patients for a couple hours in the morning, and then he will be home with us. Many days, his pager will go on at 7 am and he will sign off at 5 pm. Others it will be turned on earlier and off later. He will do Lyla’s bath and bed time as much as he can and let me leave for mom-breaks now and then when he gets home. We’ll meet him at the hospital for dinner when he’s on call and get sick of Subway before first year is over. Sometimes he’ll struggle to balance it all and there will be times when apologies and forgiveness are in order. We’ll prioritize date nights but may go weeks (maybe even months) in between them (nothing new there :-). There will be a lot that he experiences that I don’t understand. And there will be some that I do. We'll do our best to communicate and support each other. We have a community of other residency families so we will all be well taken care of, even when things are particularly busy or hard. 

My days at home with my girl will be full. We will go to library story time. We will have play dates with friends. We’ll run errands and do laundry and dishes and plenty of coloring. We’ll go on walks and play outside as long as the weather will allow. The winter months will be long.. And we will probably just have to bundle up real good before we play outside. Because, let’s face it, we can only stay indoors so much… The days will inevitably get long (ironically I just had get up from writing to deal with a meltdown…) and I will be ready for a break by 4:00. It may not come til the next day… Or the next… Or the next… But even if Eric can’t take over, there are a few other moms I can call when things get hard. In the craziness of the evenings, I’ll sometimes forget to ask how his day was when he walks in the door. I’ll be spent from a day of kissing owies, giving timeouts, talking through emotions and cuddling a feeling girl. We’ll say bedtime and mealtime prayers, and probably a few more strewn throughout the day… I will snap and raise my voice and lose my patience with the dog and little girl and husband. That’s not a ‘maybe’. It. Will. Happen. I’ll say many “I’m sorry”s and we will share lots of hugs. Some days dinner will be on the table when he gets home and some days I’ll have him pick up Thai food on his way. The house will be a mess more often than not. But it will feel lived-in and many sweet memories will be made there. 

Much grace will definitely be needed. at. all. times. We will all have good days and bad… Proud moments and disappointing… And the glue holding it all together will. be. grace. We will do more than just survive the next three years. We will thrive. We will grow and change and learn. We will make life-long friends and there’s a good chance we won’t want to leave this place that we are quickly growing to love. Some of our expectations will become realities and some will prove to be a bit different. But GRACE… That is sure to be a constant. 

So, please follow along on this new journey of ours. It’s sure to be entertaining and, hopefully, somewhat encouraging and inspiring, as well. :-) 

Sarah