Category: Married Life

Do you ever feel invisible?

Like you might be doing the most important work in the world, but no one notices.

You could be raising the next great scientist, artist, human rights activist, or just decent human being that treats others with kindness. Lord knows we could use more of those (i.e. Charlottesville, Las Vegas, Orlando, [insert city of choice here]).

Here I am trying to raise those decent human beings. I’m trying my hardest, and it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. It, certainly, isn’t glamorous. This morning I cleaned pee off the floor RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE TOILET. Take two more steps, kid! TWO!! You’re a dude. All you have to do is stand in front of the toilet and aim!

I am so immersed in feeding, wiping, cleaning, teaching, disciplining, I can hardly find myself in it all. Where is Lisa? Who is she? Have my duties so absorbed me that without them I am invisible?

I find myself searching for answers in wrong places that seem right… my job, my husband, my kids.

”Job, did I do well? Pay me what I’m worth. Give me the recognition I crave.”

”Husband, who am I? Tell me I’m valuable. Tell me I’m worth your time.”

”Kids, am I doing this right? It seems like this all-consuming role is my sole identity, yet I feel like I’m constantly failing.”

I know I am not alone in this. I am so sure of it. Our worth as women gets attacked over and over again in this world. In the workplace. On the Internet. Among friends. In our own minds. How do I battle this?

This week the unsettled feeling grew stronger, and I entered church Wednesday night with expectation. I desperately needed to meet with God. My feeble attempts to make time for Him at home had not been enough. It was during the song Reckless Love when the Holy Spirit so clearly spoke,

“You are priceless. I gave everything for you. I gave everything for you. I gave everything for you.“

My worth is not found in others’ approval of me. It is not in sweet accolades. It is not the number on my paycheck. It is not even in the words or actions of my husband and children.

My worth is found in One who is greater than I, and, yet, He gave everything for me. Sacrificing His very life that I may live. I have to meet with Him daily. I have to lean in and listen to His voice. The approval and recognition for which I long, flow freely from His mouth. And how much sweeter are those words when they come from someone who knows my very best and my very worst?

He has seen me parent well, and He has seen me yelling at my kids at 5:00 when I’m trying to make dinner and the baby is fussy and Josh still has another hour of work. And He says, “You are priceless.” He has seen me pull off a damn good event, problem-solving the heck out of a wedding, and he has seen me flub my way through stuff I know nothing about. He says, “You are priceless.” He has seen me display patience and kindness with my husband, and he has seen me be downright mean to the man I love. He says, “Daughter, you are priceless.”

It was in that moment of worship with tears streaming down my face that my soul found rest. In Him. I find rest. In Him I find my worth. And while that moment was transformative, the attacks will not stop. Daily, I enter a world that tells me a woman is worth nothing. Daily, I must meet with the One who tells me a woman is worth everything.

You’re in bed next to me with our little mini-me-man curled into your side as we both type words onto a screen. I am proud of you. For so many reasons. For stuff like building a business, growing a business, and selling a business. For starting a podcast and sticking with it for a full year even as we both wondered, “Will we ever make money again?” For taking risks I couldn’t fathom – and I would certainly never take on my own if not for you saying, “I have an idea…” For taking the biggest risk of all: choosing to be a dad; raising little humans with the hope we don’t screw them up somehow.

I think it’s the biggest risk one can take. Being a dad. You go into it with no experience and almost as little knowledge on the subject. I’ve seen you in some rough times – difficult seasons. But you had wisdom to reach out to men who have been there – men who traveled the path before you. Thank you.

This season though… you’ve found the sweet spot. You are relishing and treasuring. You are enjoying dad-life to its fullest. And I? I am relishing and treasuring. The shared smiles and laughter when our kids do something precious. The nightly wrestling matches on the living room floor. The soft, sweet dad-voice reserved only for your little girl.

You are an amazing daddy, Joshua. And I am proud of your many accomplishments, but they are nothing compared to the love you have for your children. Your achievements only enhance the love you have for your kids, because I know the motivation behind them is providing for your family and leaving behind a legacy.

Most of all, thank you for modeling to our children the true nature of a man. For being the type of husband I want our son to be and our daughter to marry. Thank you for showing our children how a dad loves his kids and how a husband cherishes his wife. And last, but certainly not least, thank you for bringing fun into our family. Because what is life if we aren’t enjoying it?

Happy Father’s Day.

 

Dangit! That thing is falling apart and used and worn. I’ve wanted to carry it out on trash day more than once. The community yard sale was the perfect excuse to get rid of it. I was all set to sell it and then…

I tried to rock my baby (read: 2 year old – who will soon be a grown man, graduating college, and getting married) to sleep in a different chair, and it just wasn’t the same. It was bumpy and not glidey. Pokey and not cushy. All I could think of was how I’d never again rock in the chair that I’d rocked both my babies to sleep in for the last 4 years.

The chair where I’ve nursed my babies and snuggled them close. The chair where I’ve read Bubbles, Bubbles and Mr. Brown Can Moo. The chair where I’ve spent hours wishing children would fall asleep so I could lay them in their crib and so many more hours wishing I could hold them forever, willing them to never grow up.

It’s the same chair I’ve sat in time after time with an aching back or sore feet from going all day long. I’d finally take a moment to stop, to rock my little one, and that’s when I’d hear the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit. I can’t tell you how many times the Lord’s whispered to me in that chair. Mostly because it was the only time I was still and quiet; not distracted by the to-do list or the TV.

And oh how many prayers have gone up from that chair! Prayers for protection over my family. Prayers of blessing on my children. Prayers for their future spouses and even for the parents that are raising their future spouses! Prayers for my husband. Prayers for guidance. Prayers that call upon the Lord to act – to do what he has promised!

So much of my life – the parts that are rich with meaning – has happened in that chair. So many precious moments. Heaven help me, but I don’t think I can get rid of that ugly, beautiful, falling-apart, old chair.