My husband's work hours so far for most of this year (72 hours/week) have inconveniently fallen over Valentine's Day, my birthday, our wedding anniversary, and now two of our children's birthdays. He has one shift a week off work, and this week he spent the afternoon taking me to lunch and to a plant nursery for the afternoon. As we were walking through the nursery, the lady at the counter, who was trying to be friendly said to us, "Oh, so you said that you guys have been to Galena today?" We both looked at her for a second, and my husband said, "Um... no." It appeared she had mistaken us for a couple she had talked to earlier. It didn't help that the "Galena couple" was standing over across the room and had also heard her make the mistake too. As she looked at us both, mouth agape, I jumped to her aid with a, "I wish we had been in Galena today." I wanted to try to make her feel less awkward somehow. I tend to over-empathize with people. It's not even something I consciously do. It just happens inside of me. I can't be near sick people without feeling sick myself, and I can't talk to someone with an accent without developing one too.
A few weeks ago, as my husband was getting ready for work, one of our older children hit her head on the corner of the couch. She started to bleed quite a lot, and she showed me her hands were bloody from touching her head. As I saw the blood and tried to look for its source, I started to feel woozy myself. I walked her into the bathroom where my husband was getting ready for work. I told him, "You have to find the source of all this blood so I know if I need to take her to the emergency room." As he began to look through her thick, blood-soaked hair, I got a washcloth to clean off her scalp a little bit. As I started to clean it off, I looked down at my daughter. She saw the bloody washcloth and started to wobble. I asked her if she was okay as I put my hand on her noticeably clammy face. She replied with a weak, "Yes," as I said to my husband, "She's going down." Just as I said it, the full weight of her body (her now 5 foot tall, 100 pound frame), dropped fully into my arms. He grabbed her and supported her weight as I started to wobble. When I couldn't feel my lips, I knew I was empathizing with my daughter. Between both of our dislikes for blood and the fact that she succumbed to it, I doubted I'd be up for long. I managed to take some deep breaths, sit down and gather myself before I lost consciousness too.
My husband's work hours have caused me to feel sorry for myself quite a bit lately. After all, it's been awhile since I've been a full-time, single parent. Aside from that, I only had 2 kids the first time I did it, and I wasn't so great at it then. This whole 5-kid scenario is a tad different. I had volunteered to help with our church's community outreach egg hunt last Saturday, and we were supposed to leave our kids behind during the setup the Friday night before the hunt. A large part of our family's past 4 months or so has been dominated by various illnesses - most of them borne by the children. They have suffered from virtually every type of germ our great cold season has to offer. We have missed a lot of things due to these illnesses. Violet happened to get sick last Monday, and, although I thought she'd be better by Friday's setup, she wasn't. I couldn't find anyone to watch her. So I had to take all the kids with me to the setup. The setup is equipped with bounce house, candy-filled eggs, and about a dozen games with all kinds of treats and goodies - none of which they are supposed to touch. So, the night was interesting to say the least. I finally managed a few minutes to get away, as someone asked me to run to Walmart to buy a few last minute items for the hunt. Violet tagged along. As we strolled down an aisle, I saw a man with a mop and bucket. I looked down at my feet to see him mopping what appeared to be vomit from the floor. As we exchanged glances and I passed by, I said quietly to myself, "Well, it looks like at least TWO people are having a worse day than I am."
Today I had to take the 3 youngest kids with me to Kohl's to look for luggage for an upcoming (much needed) vacation. For the most part, I try desperately to avoid taking the children with me to "civilized" stores in daylight hours. I don't get much accomplished and mostly end up wanting to bury myself in a clothes wrack until the men in white come take me away. This time, I had no choice. I had planned a morning filled with seemingly simple errands... a trip to the DMV, post office, pharmacy, a couple stores, and then home. Believe you me, it only sounds simple. We started off at Kohl's, where Levi, who had apparently never seen a dummy with no head (not to mention dressed in lacy panties and a bra), began to shout, "She doesn't have a head! MOM! Increbibble... She's got no head!" As he chuckled to himself how funny it was, I commented something like, "Yeah, honey... increbibble," and I turned away to look at something else (ie. easily distracted by shiny objects). As Claire tugged my arm, I turned around to see him thoroughly examining the anatomy of the dummy under her scant clothing, exclaiming, "This is great!" Well, as I dragged him away from his new "friend", toward the luggage section, he ascertained that the toy section was a mere hop, skip, and jump from the luggage... what luck! So he wandered toward that area half a dozen times as I coaxed, cajoled, or redneck hollered him back to my side. Finally, luggage finally selected by an already exhausted and abundantly distracted mother, I followed him to the toys to appease his curiosity. I looked at a few Melissa and Doug toys, and turned to Levi as he showed me a Batman toy he liked. He said, "I think we'll just get it. He threw it in the cart. As I reached in to grab it out and put it back, I found that the whole bottom of the cart was filled with toys. He and Violet (who was strapped in the front of the cart) had, it seems, grabbed and stuffed toys, $1000 shopping-spree style, into our little cart.
I found a shirt and a dress to try on, and our caravan headed toward the dressing rooms. Now, Violet wanted out of her cart/prison, and Claire let her out to "switch places" with her. This went fine, and all was well until Levi started hollering, "Mom! You're naked! You're NAKED!!!" I WAS NOT naked, by the way. I was wearing nearly all of my clothes. However, I couldn't help but want to explain myself to a dressing-area full of women I didn't even know and whose feet were the only part of them I would probably ever see. After checking out at the front of the store, I realized that I didn't have my keys. For that matter, I didn't have my coat. Levi was testing out the automatic doors, and I had to run back to the changing room to see if I left my coat there. I did, of course, and I found my keys. We made it back out to the car in one piece, but then I realized that I had a pair of Levi's birthday shoes I needed to exchange. So we went back in and started the adventure, round two.
The rest of our day was much the same... bottles of shampoo ending up in the cart without my notice. Levi spending 1/2 hour in the bathroom at ShopKo after having locked me out of the stall for his "privacy". It's too bad really, because I was looking forward to broadcasting, "Levi, you're NAKED!" throughout the ShopKo bathroom. Violet was bored in the bathroom, and it became strenuous to the extreme trying to keep her out of the toilets, off the floors, and away from the feminine products disposal cans. I took her and her older sister just outside the bathroom door to get drinks and play away from toilet germs. Levi kept half shouting/half grunting from the bathroom stall, "Mom! Are you still in here?" To which I would poke my head in and say, "Kind of..." He is a fastidious hand-washer, and after his "morning constitutions", we were able to finish that portion of the nightmare errand morning. I won't bore you with the rest, but suffice it to say that it ended in a humiliating episode in a crowded parking lot with a car alarm I am unfamiliar with how to disengage. The only thing that could have made the day better is if I had tried to take our show to Hallmark. There are very few childhood curiosities that can't be cultivated in an environment entirely dominated by racks upon racks of colorful cards with matching envelopes, delicate breakables, and delectable candies. It's a virtual trifecta of parental misery. Are you empathizing with me yet?
I have found it nearly impossible to find compassion about my husband's work hours. He has a job, after all, and a good one at that. It's more than many have in this economy. It's very true, and I am very grateful for it. However, it doesn't help with the daily reality of his absence or the fact that his job often rules our home life. I think I was born with a sympathetic design. My mom used to say that she could see the pained look on my face at the suffering of other people or animals. I have been trying to nurture the ability to feel sympathy and/or empathy toward other people in my children... and not just to feel it but to act upon it in a healing, helpful way. Monday, my 7 year old daughter decided to wake up bright and early to color a set of cards for me to take to my hospice patients. I marveled at her caring heart when her older sister spoke up and said, "She's just trying to earn marbles to fill her jar so she can get that $10 for a new Webkinz." I was initially offended on Claire's behalf for Sadie's crass assumption, but then it all came back to me - the jar on the counter, the comment I had made the night before about the fact that she would need to earn her own money for something that she wanted. Claire responded, "It's not ONLY that, but which character trait is it that I'm showing? And how many marbles is that?" It brought to mind an incident a few years back when our oldest son was accompanying us on a caroling trip with my husband's family to the nursing home on Christmas day. As we arrived at the home he said, "How much are we getting paid for this?"
In our, "Look out for number one" world, it seems impossible to foster in others a genuine and pure desire to love and serve those around them. My devotions last night brought to my attention some great promise verses about our compassion and with regard to generosity. 2 Corinthians 9:6-8 says, "6Now this I say, he who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and he who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.
7Each one must do just as he has purposed in his heart, not grudgingly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. 8And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that always having all sufficiency in everything, you may have an abundance for every good deed;" In God's economy, the more we give - whether it be money, time, compassion, a listening ear, or a helpful hand - the more we receive to replenish our supply. Vss. 10-11 say, "10Now He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness; 11you will be enriched in everything for all liberality, which through us is producing thanksgiving to God." The likely result of our graciousness to others is that the receivers of that grace take notice of the God in whose name the gift is given, and they give thanks to Him. So it's a win-win situation for God. He gives to us so we can give to others so they take notice of and thank Him too.
Vss. 13-15 are even more increbibble (if you will), "13Because of the proof given by this ministry, they will glorify God for your obedience to your confession of the gospel of Christ and for the liberality of your contribution to them and to all, 14while they also, by prayer on your behalf, yearn for you because of the surpassing grace of God in you.15Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!" Turns out, it's probably a win-win for us too when we give to others out of what God's given to us. In this particular situation, Paul says that the outcome is that the receivers of our gracious gifts end up offering prayers on our behalf and even "yearn for" us because of the light of God's grace within us. My challenge is that sometimes it is more difficult to give someone a compassionate ear than it is to give them a meal or some money. It's more time-consuming, and it requires the ability and willingness to engage another human in his or her difficulty or suffering. It's more costly to care than many of us are willing to bear. It's far easier to offer trite advice or even to shame another person for feeling bad in the first place than it is to go through their problem with them to the other side. I'm finding that where there is the most suffering, there is the greatest opportunity for grace and healing to reign. So if someone shares a problem with you this week, try not to think of your own troubles, but rather enter into theirs. It might make yours seem a little farther removed. Don't say "at least you have your health" or "at least you have a job". The bright side isn't easy to see when you're in the dark. It's far preferable to know someone with a Light is by your side. Empathy might be your path to a life filled with greater compassion.
A few weeks ago, as my husband was getting ready for work, one of our older children hit her head on the corner of the couch. She started to bleed quite a lot, and she showed me her hands were bloody from touching her head. As I saw the blood and tried to look for its source, I started to feel woozy myself. I walked her into the bathroom where my husband was getting ready for work. I told him, "You have to find the source of all this blood so I know if I need to take her to the emergency room." As he began to look through her thick, blood-soaked hair, I got a washcloth to clean off her scalp a little bit. As I started to clean it off, I looked down at my daughter. She saw the bloody washcloth and started to wobble. I asked her if she was okay as I put my hand on her noticeably clammy face. She replied with a weak, "Yes," as I said to my husband, "She's going down." Just as I said it, the full weight of her body (her now 5 foot tall, 100 pound frame), dropped fully into my arms. He grabbed her and supported her weight as I started to wobble. When I couldn't feel my lips, I knew I was empathizing with my daughter. Between both of our dislikes for blood and the fact that she succumbed to it, I doubted I'd be up for long. I managed to take some deep breaths, sit down and gather myself before I lost consciousness too.
My husband's work hours have caused me to feel sorry for myself quite a bit lately. After all, it's been awhile since I've been a full-time, single parent. Aside from that, I only had 2 kids the first time I did it, and I wasn't so great at it then. This whole 5-kid scenario is a tad different. I had volunteered to help with our church's community outreach egg hunt last Saturday, and we were supposed to leave our kids behind during the setup the Friday night before the hunt. A large part of our family's past 4 months or so has been dominated by various illnesses - most of them borne by the children. They have suffered from virtually every type of germ our great cold season has to offer. We have missed a lot of things due to these illnesses. Violet happened to get sick last Monday, and, although I thought she'd be better by Friday's setup, she wasn't. I couldn't find anyone to watch her. So I had to take all the kids with me to the setup. The setup is equipped with bounce house, candy-filled eggs, and about a dozen games with all kinds of treats and goodies - none of which they are supposed to touch. So, the night was interesting to say the least. I finally managed a few minutes to get away, as someone asked me to run to Walmart to buy a few last minute items for the hunt. Violet tagged along. As we strolled down an aisle, I saw a man with a mop and bucket. I looked down at my feet to see him mopping what appeared to be vomit from the floor. As we exchanged glances and I passed by, I said quietly to myself, "Well, it looks like at least TWO people are having a worse day than I am."
Today I had to take the 3 youngest kids with me to Kohl's to look for luggage for an upcoming (much needed) vacation. For the most part, I try desperately to avoid taking the children with me to "civilized" stores in daylight hours. I don't get much accomplished and mostly end up wanting to bury myself in a clothes wrack until the men in white come take me away. This time, I had no choice. I had planned a morning filled with seemingly simple errands... a trip to the DMV, post office, pharmacy, a couple stores, and then home. Believe you me, it only sounds simple. We started off at Kohl's, where Levi, who had apparently never seen a dummy with no head (not to mention dressed in lacy panties and a bra), began to shout, "She doesn't have a head! MOM! Increbibble... She's got no head!" As he chuckled to himself how funny it was, I commented something like, "Yeah, honey... increbibble," and I turned away to look at something else (ie. easily distracted by shiny objects). As Claire tugged my arm, I turned around to see him thoroughly examining the anatomy of the dummy under her scant clothing, exclaiming, "This is great!" Well, as I dragged him away from his new "friend", toward the luggage section, he ascertained that the toy section was a mere hop, skip, and jump from the luggage... what luck! So he wandered toward that area half a dozen times as I coaxed, cajoled, or redneck hollered him back to my side. Finally, luggage finally selected by an already exhausted and abundantly distracted mother, I followed him to the toys to appease his curiosity. I looked at a few Melissa and Doug toys, and turned to Levi as he showed me a Batman toy he liked. He said, "I think we'll just get it. He threw it in the cart. As I reached in to grab it out and put it back, I found that the whole bottom of the cart was filled with toys. He and Violet (who was strapped in the front of the cart) had, it seems, grabbed and stuffed toys, $1000 shopping-spree style, into our little cart.
I found a shirt and a dress to try on, and our caravan headed toward the dressing rooms. Now, Violet wanted out of her cart/prison, and Claire let her out to "switch places" with her. This went fine, and all was well until Levi started hollering, "Mom! You're naked! You're NAKED!!!" I WAS NOT naked, by the way. I was wearing nearly all of my clothes. However, I couldn't help but want to explain myself to a dressing-area full of women I didn't even know and whose feet were the only part of them I would probably ever see. After checking out at the front of the store, I realized that I didn't have my keys. For that matter, I didn't have my coat. Levi was testing out the automatic doors, and I had to run back to the changing room to see if I left my coat there. I did, of course, and I found my keys. We made it back out to the car in one piece, but then I realized that I had a pair of Levi's birthday shoes I needed to exchange. So we went back in and started the adventure, round two.
The rest of our day was much the same... bottles of shampoo ending up in the cart without my notice. Levi spending 1/2 hour in the bathroom at ShopKo after having locked me out of the stall for his "privacy". It's too bad really, because I was looking forward to broadcasting, "Levi, you're NAKED!" throughout the ShopKo bathroom. Violet was bored in the bathroom, and it became strenuous to the extreme trying to keep her out of the toilets, off the floors, and away from the feminine products disposal cans. I took her and her older sister just outside the bathroom door to get drinks and play away from toilet germs. Levi kept half shouting/half grunting from the bathroom stall, "Mom! Are you still in here?" To which I would poke my head in and say, "Kind of..." He is a fastidious hand-washer, and after his "morning constitutions", we were able to finish that portion of the nightmare errand morning. I won't bore you with the rest, but suffice it to say that it ended in a humiliating episode in a crowded parking lot with a car alarm I am unfamiliar with how to disengage. The only thing that could have made the day better is if I had tried to take our show to Hallmark. There are very few childhood curiosities that can't be cultivated in an environment entirely dominated by racks upon racks of colorful cards with matching envelopes, delicate breakables, and delectable candies. It's a virtual trifecta of parental misery. Are you empathizing with me yet?
I have found it nearly impossible to find compassion about my husband's work hours. He has a job, after all, and a good one at that. It's more than many have in this economy. It's very true, and I am very grateful for it. However, it doesn't help with the daily reality of his absence or the fact that his job often rules our home life. I think I was born with a sympathetic design. My mom used to say that she could see the pained look on my face at the suffering of other people or animals. I have been trying to nurture the ability to feel sympathy and/or empathy toward other people in my children... and not just to feel it but to act upon it in a healing, helpful way. Monday, my 7 year old daughter decided to wake up bright and early to color a set of cards for me to take to my hospice patients. I marveled at her caring heart when her older sister spoke up and said, "She's just trying to earn marbles to fill her jar so she can get that $10 for a new Webkinz." I was initially offended on Claire's behalf for Sadie's crass assumption, but then it all came back to me - the jar on the counter, the comment I had made the night before about the fact that she would need to earn her own money for something that she wanted. Claire responded, "It's not ONLY that, but which character trait is it that I'm showing? And how many marbles is that?" It brought to mind an incident a few years back when our oldest son was accompanying us on a caroling trip with my husband's family to the nursing home on Christmas day. As we arrived at the home he said, "How much are we getting paid for this?"
In our, "Look out for number one" world, it seems impossible to foster in others a genuine and pure desire to love and serve those around them. My devotions last night brought to my attention some great promise verses about our compassion and with regard to generosity. 2 Corinthians 9:6-8 says, "6Now this I say, he who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and he who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.
7Each one must do just as he has purposed in his heart, not grudgingly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. 8And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that always having all sufficiency in everything, you may have an abundance for every good deed;" In God's economy, the more we give - whether it be money, time, compassion, a listening ear, or a helpful hand - the more we receive to replenish our supply. Vss. 10-11 say, "10Now He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness; 11you will be enriched in everything for all liberality, which through us is producing thanksgiving to God." The likely result of our graciousness to others is that the receivers of that grace take notice of the God in whose name the gift is given, and they give thanks to Him. So it's a win-win situation for God. He gives to us so we can give to others so they take notice of and thank Him too.
Vss. 13-15 are even more increbibble (if you will), "13Because of the proof given by this ministry, they will glorify God for your obedience to your confession of the gospel of Christ and for the liberality of your contribution to them and to all, 14while they also, by prayer on your behalf, yearn for you because of the surpassing grace of God in you.15Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!" Turns out, it's probably a win-win for us too when we give to others out of what God's given to us. In this particular situation, Paul says that the outcome is that the receivers of our gracious gifts end up offering prayers on our behalf and even "yearn for" us because of the light of God's grace within us. My challenge is that sometimes it is more difficult to give someone a compassionate ear than it is to give them a meal or some money. It's more time-consuming, and it requires the ability and willingness to engage another human in his or her difficulty or suffering. It's more costly to care than many of us are willing to bear. It's far easier to offer trite advice or even to shame another person for feeling bad in the first place than it is to go through their problem with them to the other side. I'm finding that where there is the most suffering, there is the greatest opportunity for grace and healing to reign. So if someone shares a problem with you this week, try not to think of your own troubles, but rather enter into theirs. It might make yours seem a little farther removed. Don't say "at least you have your health" or "at least you have a job". The bright side isn't easy to see when you're in the dark. It's far preferable to know someone with a Light is by your side. Empathy might be your path to a life filled with greater compassion.
