Finding Balm in Gilead

Phase 2,3,4 etc.

Last week, we officially entered into the final phases of our leaky den remodel. Our internet and TV were down throughout most of the week, but I can say without hesitation that we have ourselves a VAST improvement in the state of our living arrangements back there.

Plus, it looks like we've narrowly avoided prolonged mold poisoning.

I'll be back later this week with pictures, and an account of the sad and sentimental departure of the bedsprings.

Furthermore, I feel a Wheat Germ Weekly post coming on dealing with the nature of clutter in our lives. There's nothing like having to move around a bunch of worn-out furniture, junky toys, and as my dear friend Shelly likes to say, "useless chatchke" to make you take a serious look at what EXACT SENTIMENT these things have in my life and are they adding any value or peace AT ALL???

So I'm on a mission. A mission to clear out, purge, throw away, and kick to the curb. And I'm not just talking about the material chatchke in my life. I'm also talking about the physical chatchke, the mental chatchke, and the spiritual chatchke that is clouding up my attempts at a vibrant and clear-headed existence on this earth.

Here's a teaser for you.......

 

Do we really need 7 boxes of bandaids?

Stay tuned.

The Origin of the Title

Many people (ok, two) have asked me what the name of my blog Finding Balm in Gilead means.

I feel I should have written this post at the beginning of this great writing adventure in order to explain myself and my direction; but alas, I did not. I've just kept on pretending that everyone who finds my blog (and it's a very small number of people) will just automatically know what I mean by the title.

And no, I absolutely do not think that my blog IS the balm in Gilead. Quite far from it, to be sure.

So. Here's Reason # 1 for the blog name Finding Balm in Gilead......

Long ago, I read a series of books by Jan Karon that I refer to as the "Mitford" series, because of the title of her very first book, At Home in Mitford.  My mom stumbled onto these gems first, and I can still remember hearing her laugh out loud in her bedroom at night while reading the latest book. I believe I had just graduated from college at the time, and I remember thinking, "What can be so funny about a book with a pastoralish town scene on the front?"

Turns out, a lot is funny in this book with a pastoralish town scene on the front.

At the time, I was into reading anything with John Grisham's name on the cover, or the latest Mary Higgin's Clark mystery. Suspense and thriller were at the top of my list, although now, I can't stand to read or watch anything remotely scary.....one of the casualities of becoming a mother, I suppose.

But my mom's belly laughter was so contagious at the time - a time when our family was knee-deep in the muck and mire of my parents' marital issues - that I finally conceded to her pleas for me to read these books - if not for anything more than a slight chuckle and a smile.

Seriously, I thought these books were going to be beyond my scope of interest....something that I would read when I was an OLDER woman, but not as modern young thing of 23.

But I have not regretted reading these books one bit, I tell you. In fact, I've read several of them twice.

They are delightful. Hilarious. Witty. Full of the idiosyncrasies of life.

And because I can't say it any better, here's the synopsis taken straight from Barnes and Noble.com:

"In At Home in Mitford, Father Tim finds himself running on empty. Even after twelve years of shepherding his flock, he finds that Emma, his secretary, persists in treating him like a ten-year-old. Barnabas, a huge black dog, adopts him, and a hostile mountain boy, Dooley, is thrust into his care. To add to his confusion, a growing friendship with Cynthia Coppersmith, his new neighbor, stirs emotions he hasn't felt in years."

That, in a nutshell, is why I couldn't put these books down....they were all about the normal, everyday lives of a community of people as seen through the eyes of the narrator - Father Tim.

When you think about it, everyday life is rather hilarious, people.

Thus, these books are one of the reasons for the title of this blog. In this Mitford series, Father Tim's favorite expression when faced with a trying situation or confusing dilemma was this: "Is there any balm in Gilead?" Father Tim's character never cusses, and he most certainly uses extreme tact in all dealings with his parish. However, the reader ALWAYS knew when he was frustrated or concerned with a situation because his thoughts turned to this one expression: "Is there any balm?"

This expression has become a favorite between my mother and me. When faced with hard situations or hurtful events - or even tasks that are deemed tedious - one of us looks at the other and mutters, "Is there any balm?" Sometimes we say it while muffling a laugh; other times we utter the phrase simply to keep from crying.

So what does the phrase Balm in Gilead mean? Why on earth did I choose it for the name of this blog? Why didn't I simply choose a title like Amy's Incoherence? Or Confessions of a Puzzle Addict? Or Ironing Is Punishment? Or Have a Dirt Bike, Need a Couch?

Those answers are coming tomorrow, my friends. Tomorrow.

You may be inwardly groaning right now, indignant that this post is dragging into two parts, but it can't be helped.....I have to make it look like I accomplished something here today while the kids are at Ms. LuAnn's.

So I've got to go iron J's jeans....and fix his broken belt loops....with the sewing machine.

Is there any balm?

Meanwhile, go get this book:

You won't be disappointed.

CSI: Identity.....Who Are You? Who, Who...Who, Who...

***Hey friends - I wrote this yesterday but wasn't sure it was entirely coherent or connected.....and ironically, in light of the subject matter, I didn't have the courage to post it yet.....but today, I'm throwing caution to the wind. If I'm the only one who gets it, that's all that matters......

Because this is an identity journey y'all....

I'm sitting here on a crisp Tuesday morning, having just dropped my kids off at Miss LuAnn's for the day. I just finished a bowl of oatmeal and am on my 3rd and last cup of coffee.....and I am seriously thinking about making another pot because it's just the perfect fall morning up here in the Texas Panhandle.

I am thoroughly enjoying myself....even though it is always hard for me to drop those two little stinkers off at Miss LuAnn's. I miss them like crazy, yet I am so grateful for this little window of solace.

Plus, this time alone has enabled me to watch ALL of Joyce Meyer's program in peace this morning. Today, she was visiting with her guest Jentezen Franklin about how God works through our circumstances and having the ability to understand and flow with the seasons in our life.

So all this morning quiet and good TV preaching has me going back to the thing lately that God has placed 2 centimeters in front of me in big fat black letters: WHO ARE YOU? WHO DO YOU SAY YOU ARE? WHO DOES GOD SAY YOU ARE?

Identity. Seems so simple....yet I make it so complicated.

You'd think I'd be secure in my identity at the ripe age of 36. In some areas of my life, I am secure. But there's a host of other places that are a mess of confusion....my desire to please, and my desire to be perfect in my mothering, my housekeeping, my wifely duties, and my friendships.

It ain't going to happen...the perfection, I mean.

Yet, I wonder if it is just me, or do all women go through this: how do we find the balance between desiring to be superwoman to everyone else, but yet be ok with who we are as daughters of the Lord Jesus Christ.....regardless of whether superwoman status is achievable or not?

I guess it boils down to what I believe about how God created me. I've been so caught up for the last three years mothering my children, and for the last eight years being a wife too, that there are certain parts of myself that I have forgotten or even abandoned in my quest to be wife and mother extraordinaire.

I have fallen so short in this quest.

But you know what?  It is ok.

It is ok.

A few random things have happened lately that are nudging me to really begin embracing the identity God gave me....and in the process, all this striving to be perfect and please everyone doesn't matter so much....and my soul is more at rest.

Ironically, I am actually a better mother and wife because I am on this journey of resting in the knowledge of my identity in Christ, and I'm not trying so hard to be Wife and Mother of the Year.

That's not to say that I'm slacking off. I'm still working at being a good mother and wife. That's what God has called me to do. However, I am becoming more at peace with who I am.....superwoman or not.

And it's usually not.

Have I "arrived"? Are you kidding? This is a daily re-commitment. Some days I'm all about my identity in Christ. Other days....not so much.

Oh - but I have even more of a journey ahead of me....and I think it's going to be a good one overall.

And so on days like today, when my kids are gone and my husband is at work and I can't physically get my identity from them.....I am realizing what a gift this is in a whole new way. It's not just a day to catch up on things anymore. It's also a day to reclaim parts of myself that have been pushed aside. For instance, today I'm playing the piano, and I am working on a 1000 piece puzzle, and I am spending an insane amount of time writing this post....

And I am eating a handful of chocolate chips out in the open air instead of in secret behind the freezer door.....

And I'm dreaming of being a contestant on Dancing with the Stars while trying to do the quickstep as I scrub dishes....

And, people, I will clean those bathrooms and wash those sheets and mop that floor....because I love and want to serve my family.

But the baseboards will probably not get done.

And that's ok.

The puzzle, though, is a priority.

And then I'll pick up my little darlings and take them to Superstar Coffee for hot chocolate before we go home to fix dinner, and then I think we'll do a craft while we wait excitedly for Daddy's arrival from work.....

Because today..... I'm embracing all of who God made me to be: mother, wife, friend...and just Amy, daughter of the Living God.