Happy (Re)-New Year, all year long!

Published in The Fauquier Times-Democrat (Weekend Edition) Jan. 6, 2012

There were mornings that year when I did not feel like getting up. The five older children were in school. When they left, I felt as if the very purpose in my life had been drained right along with them. Getting everyone out the door was a nonstop, exhausting affair: the commuting husband, the middle and high school children, and then the elementary school children. When they were gone, the emptiness surrounded and threatened to choke me. What did the day hold for me?

I was left in the middle of a mess – like a rescue worker trying to rebuild after hurricane damage on a daily basis. I was engulfed by the hustle and bustle, but inside I had nothing. Every day was the same. I was left, empty, standing in the midst of devastation that, with significant imagination and even more significant effort, could have been a beautiful home.

There was the two-year-old waiting to wake up, sometimes sweet and satiated, but oftentimes cranky yet unwilling to eat. In the absence of the older siblings, he became demanding and needy, and this was a problem, because I felt the neediest. Did he feel deserted the way that I did?

That slump was an odd stage. Ironically, my problem came, not from being overwhelmed as I had been used to for the many years when I had homeschooled the children. There was no time then to think about what my needs were, because I was used to being needed all the time. And now, the only thing that seemed to need my attention were inanimate objects, like dirty laundry, unmade beds, and dirty dishes. (The children have always had chores, but in the crazy-busy mornings, and during the academic year, sometimes, you get to be the catch-all.)

I know. It’s okay if you shake your head and ask what I could possibly have had to complain about. I had the luxury of being at home. I had six healthy children who were bright and beautiful people. I had a practical and caring husband. What was my problem?

In my right state of mind, I can reflect and wonder the same thing. It’s a different sort of vision, though, when you are drowning in the midst of your woes. The man on shore can calmly see and point out where the rope to the life preserver is. Why wasn’t I in a ladies’ Bible study group? Why hadn’t I joined a gym? There are programs for taking children along. Why wasn’t I volunteering in the schools or at the hospital?

Simple. I would survey the scene around me. I saw an overwhelming amount of work. What business did I have to try volunteering outside the home? I could barely keep up inside. It may be counterintuitive, but sometimes, I need the impetus of additional work to get any of it done.

I wish I had looked into a group for mothers of preschoolers MOPS or others like the Women of Wonder (WOW). When you do something for others or with others, outside the confines of your four walls, no matter how much or how little space those four walls encompass, you have a sense of purpose. We all need purpose in our lives.

I finally got out of my slump of self-pity when I heard a message I had often heard before. But this time, I heard it anew: Jesus would have made His journey and died on the cross even if the sacrifice were for just one person: you or me.

I looked over at my sleeping preschooler. Wow. How many people are deprived the joys of parenthood? I felt a sense of shame creep over me. If Jesus would have died for just one person, why could I not live “just” for one child? He needed me to be mentally and spiritually alive just as much as the others.

Looking over at that particular moment and seeing my sleeping child is a distinct memory. It was a moment of resolve and renewed power. It was the answer to a prayer I had not knowingly uttered. Lord, give me strength and give me purpose.

This is the beauty of the holiday season, of Christmas and New Year. It need not be saved for December 25th or January 1st. We can celebrate the sacrifice of Christmas and we can celebrate a new beginning all year long. Jesus made the journey to earth and began it in a lowly manger. He ended it on a cross, flanked by criminals. In the thirty-three years between, He turned the world upside down.

Love your enemies. Pray for those who use you. Allow yourself to be used. Put away the lights, and light up your heart. Happy New Year 2012, all year long!

The Volunteer Cook

Published in The Fauquier Times-Democrat on May 11, 2007


Volunteering, like cooking, can become a curse. Four years ago this week, I was hit with a double-whammy when I had volunteer to cook the rehearsal dinner for sixty to seventy cast and crew of Fauquier High School’s musical production that my two eldest daughters were in. Had I really volunteered? I think so. Maybe. Perhaps someone had asked and I hadn’t known how to say no. The trick is in making you believe you volunteered…


This confession is not to be mistaken for horn tooting. With at least one child in elementary, middle, and high school, no one is more anxious to fly below the “volunteer” radar level than I am. But every once in a while, I do get caught. The “Let me think about that” stalling technique, polished to perfection in a house full of kids, is useless. The Volunteer Coordinator takes you seriously and actually calls you back. Like a dog on a very long leash, you are running gleefully away when…yank! You’re called again.


I’m afraid to find out how much effort - volunteer and otherwise - goes into set construction, costuming, advertising, printing, recording, coordinating, etc. these amazing productions require. I’m afraid to know because I don’t want to feel guilty, and motherhood is guilt-laden enough. And who can ignore the duplicity of a woman who moans and groans before cooking each meal for her own family, but delivers a big meal with an even bigger smile for others.


Long before the emails to borrow crock-pots and the piled-high Costco shopping and frantic food preparation, my husband warned me to steer clear of this “opportunity.” At any of these points, he could have chided me, but he did not. I should be grateful, but after twenty years of marriage, frankly, I am just a little suspicious. Perhaps he thinks I’ll learn my lesson.


Well, believe me, I have learned my lesson. The next time I volunteer to feed sixty teens, I am going to adopt the health habits of a woman I knew in California. Her solution to everything (asthma, colds, weight, teeth) was to eat all things in their natural state. Cook nothing; crunch everything.


Let’s see how this plan would work. We’ll have to agree on giving up meat – anything requiring the application of heat to be safe to eat. Not only will you be kinder to animals and our environment, you will also save money. Hey, I can envision incorporating this plan for my own family.


Imagine this. It’s 6:00 PM. You have a splitting headache, and your toddler has just crashed for an ill-timed nap that says you are going to have a late night, and it’s not going to be courtesy of David Letterman. You haven’t thought about what’s for dinner, and then you remember: that’s right! We only eat raw food!


You pour a bag of pasta into a colorful platter. The maximum your cooking effort is going to require is a little cutting. Pour out a bag of pre-washed baby carrots. Slice up a few bell peppers. Now, isn’t that attractive? That’s half the appeal. You’re done with dinner, and it’s only 6:03 PM! The stove is cool and clean and only a cutting board and knife are dirty. You clean up from that exhausting affair; it is now 6:04 PM.


Your family sits down to eat, or shall we say crunch, dinner. Only the aroma of a hot meal is lacking. We could petition the air freshener industry to bring out a new product line: chicken soup, freshly baked bread, etc. For now, use apple or cinnamon scents, and let’s agree before hand that you are never allowed to use the kitchen air freshener in the bathrooms. The incongruity would be too much to swallow.


Also tough to swallow will be that pasta. It will be calorie-dense, so a quarter-cup will make an entire serving. But since uncooked pasta is harder to eat, you’re not going to be wolfing the stuff down. You may LOOK like wolves as you toss your heads back in an attempt to grind the stuff, but that’s yet another benefit for your molars and mandible.


Dessert’s going to be a cinch. You toss a couple of oranges at everyone. Your family looks at you with intense admiration. Unlike dinner, these are juicy and flavorful. A couple of centuries ago, the inclusion of oranges would have felt like Christmas itself. I think we can agree to peel them first, since that isn’t chemically altering the fruit. Now, wasn’t that dinner colorful, nutritious, and marvelously simple?


I’m going to have so much more time that I’ll be waiting by the phone to volunteer. I’ve decided to step up to the plate and agree wholeheartedly the next time I’m asked to make dinner for my kids’ groups. I’m just wondering, though - how many kids will step up to plates like these?