learning to ski and other things

A few years ago, we decided that we wanted to really value time together as a family and place high priority on having time for just the 5 of us to connect and have fun together, away from our normal lives.

As part of that commitment, we recently went skiing for a week over spring break.   I have long had this vision of our family all skiing together one day when the kids are older, and cultivating a fun, outdoors, athletic, and bonding thing we can as a family.

My husband grew up skiing.  I did not.  You should know that before this week, I'd been skiing exactly 2 times: one day in 2000 and one day in 2010.  You should also know that I do not like to do things that I do not do well.  I'm a perfectionist in the worst way, and if I know that I'm not going to be the best at something, I don't even want to attempt it.  Hence, as an adult, I do not like to try new things.  I abhor it.  I want to stick with what I know and not go through the pain or (ahem) embarrassment of being a beginner.

Unfortunately, though, following through on my vision means I have to learn something new.  The thought of sharing this experience as a family and with my kids trumps any pride or insecurity I have about learning a new skill.  I have to overcome my fear of falling, of failing, of people all around me knowing that I have no freaking clue what I'm doing.

I was able to ski three days that week, and while Ryan was with me the whole time, I spend a lot of time swimming around in my own head as I made my way down the mountain.  I literally had a running internal voice saying, "Weight on your upper edges, shift your weight, turn!, edges, shift your weight, don't fall down, I'm out of control, stay up, stay up!, don't run into me, my knees hurt, don't hit that woman, you can go faster, you can do this, ouch, get back up, snow down my shirt!!, keep going, watch that bump, which way?, I made it!"  Yes, literally.  Audible voice in my head saying all this stuff.  Someone ring the crazy gong.

On day two, I had improved about 300 percent from day one, and there were actually times that I was having fun and not having to work so hard.  We stuck mostly to green runs, and I could feel myself relaxing as I mastered more technique and could enjoy what I was doing and take in the beautiful scenery.  And then I did what I always do.  I mentally pressed myself.  "Greens are not good enough.  When will you master blues?  When will you be an amazing skier and conquer black diamonds?"

Wait.  Stop.  When did skiing become something to conquer instead of something to enjoy? 

Then the thought came to me that skiing green runs was not failure or something I should be ashamed of.  That maybe learning to ski for me was more a lesson of learning to enjoy myself and accepting where that falls.  Of being satisfied with fun and easy and not feeling the need to push and push and push and then quit because mastering a black diamond seems so out of reach.  Why does a black diamond have to be the ultimate goal here?   Why can't skiing a green and loving the heck out of that be the ultimate goal?  Why can't just having fun be the ultimate goal?

I want to find pleasure in something by simply doing it, without comparison or self-sabotage.  To be so ok with simply being ok at something.  This is new for me and it feels weird and rebellious in a refreshing kind of way.  

I learned to ski.  But really, I learned so much more than that.

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chapter books to read with 4-7 year olds

I have long since been an avid reader.  I loved our frequent trips to the library when I was a child.  I could stay there forever, and even now one of my favorite things is getting lost in a book store and wanting to read All. The. Books.  Memories of middle school include carrying a huge stack of text books (because back packs were apparently uncool at that time?) with a novel on top.  Every minute in between classes or while waiting for a ride after school, I read.  I loved a good story...still do...though my time for reading has decreased in proportion to my increase in kids.

My husband and I are firm believers that reading to our kids is one of the most important things we can do.  The time spent reading with them is time invested in our relationship and bond with them.  They also get a boost in language skills, vocabulary, communication, and concentration, which is never a bad thing.  We hope to instill in them a love of reading, and ultimately a love of learning in general.  So, we make reading to our kids a priority, even if it means a later bedtime, and refuse to use taking away reading time before bed as a discipline tactic or bribe.  That time is untouchable, no matter what.

Around age 4, Scout showed interest in reading longer and longer stories, so we started reading some chapter books to her.  She loved hearing more intricate stories with characters and an actual plot line, and she did an amazing job transitioning from looking at pictures in the books to imagining her own.

I will add the caveat that sometimes I do censor certain words or paragraphs.  For example, in James and the Giant Peach, James has two aunts that are particularly mean to him and call him terrible names.  I may have skipped part of this or altered some of the names, because the last thing I want to do is inadvertently give my kids ideas of negative names to call their unsuspecting friends and/or me! 

In the past few years, we've read quite a few chapter books with her, and since more than one person has asked what books we've read, I thought I'd share here.  

Thus far (as far as my memory serves me), in no particular order but listed under author's name, we've read...

Beverly Cleary

The Mouse and the Motorcycle

Runaway Ralph

Henry and Ribsy

Henry and the Paper Route

Ribsy

Ramona the Pest

Ramona the Brave

Ramona and Her Father

Ramona Forever

Ramona's World

Roald Dahl

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator

James and the Giant Peach 

Danny the Champion of the World

Fantastic Mr. Fox

George's Marvelous Medicine

Laura Ingalls Wilder

Little House in the Big Woods

Little House on the Prairie

Little Town on the Prairie

Astrid Lindgren

The Adventures of Pippi Longstocking

Um, obviously we stick with authors we like for a while.  Hoping to read some Chronicles of Narnia next.

Also, I feel its important to add that we heavily utilize our public library.  The branch we frequent has a large children's section, and I often will put the next book in a series on hold so it's ready for us when we are.  We have found that having a separate basket at home exclusively used for holding library books helps us keep track of them as we often have a lot checked out at one time between both kids.  I can't say enough for using the library!

I love that we are at this stage with Scout.  I enjoy reading books with her and hearing her laugh at funny parts and watch her emotions and reactions to the story come alive across her face.  When she begs for one more chapter, I almost always give in.  It's good for both of us.

I promise to check back in later with a new list of what we've read in a few months.  In the meantime, feel free to leave some of your favorites for this age range in the comments.  We are always looking for new ideas!

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live and love

The sun has recently come out here in Seattle.  After the wettest rainy season in Seattle's recorded history, it's safe to say we are all letting out a sigh of relief.  It's amazing what a little sunshine and vitamin D will do for your soul.  I feel infused with life and hope.  Thankful that seasons change as all things do.  Thankful for new growth and the miracle of flowers pushing up through the soil and unfurling their colorful faces to bask in the sun as well.

I'm struck by the overflow of gratitude in my heart for things made new.  Struck by how much greater that gratitude is because darkness and rain covered us for months and months.  The light is brightest coming out of the dark.

Yesterday, we opened our windows and our back door, played in the backyard, barbecued dinner.  These simple acts reminding me that it is here that we live and love.  We blow bubbles and jump rope and laugh and eat berries and it is sweet balm to our spirits.

Those two words live and love.  They are interconnected.  You can't do one without the other.  If you are living, love abounds.  And if you are loving, life abounds.  Profound yet simple.

Whenever, I type the word love on my phone, it autocorrects to the word live.  This used to annoy me until I started thinking, "What if that were true?"

I love sunshine.
I live sunshine.

I love my kids.
I live my kids.

I love Jesus.
I live Jesus.

If I'm loving something, am I living it out?  Am I fully present?  Do I give it my all?  Soak it in?Breathe gratitude?

And alternatively, if I'm living something, am I loving?  Do I look for opportunities to engage and to encourage?  Do I find the good and joy and focus on that as I live my days, hours, moments?

It's amazing how the tilt of the earth, the parting of clouds, and the promise of all things made new coming to fruition in front of my eyes changes perspective.

So, go out today and live and love.  Love and live.  Blur the lines between the two and see what happens.

three things I've learned...

For the past three years, I co-led the MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) program at our church.  That time was an unexpected gift...most likely one of the most growing and self-revealing seasons of my life.  And to think that I almost said no when I was approached for the role!  How I would have missed out on some amazing times, friends, and discovering impact that I didn't even know I had in me.  

My life has definitely not had a linear trajectory.  I've not followed a traditional career path or had one singular thing that I've pursued.  At times that makes me sad, because I feel like I'm constantly pouring myself in and then saying goodbye.  And then I wonder, "What was it all for?  Did I make an impact there?  Will anyone remember me?  Did I leave any sort of legacy?"  But if I REALLY look back, I see that, as God has moved me to new things as seasons in my own life change, one constant has remained.  His story for me has always been about loving and encouraging women - college women, women in my church, women in my dance company, women in motherhood, women at MOPS.  I had to search for that thread through it all, but it's so very obvious now.

As I step into a new season, three things I learned during my time leading MOPS have been impressed upon my heart to share with you. 

1) When you feel called, but ill-equipped, say yes anyways. 

I definitely did not see coordinating MOPS in my future when I stumbled into this ministry (bleary eyed and feeling defeated in motherhood), but then somehow I was unexpectedly asked to step into this role.  At first I thought, "I can't do this.  There's no way.  They must have the wrong person."   But as I processed through my decision with a good friend of mine, she said to me, "Amy, you've always had a heart for women.  These are just women in your season."  That was a lightbulb moment for me!  Then I couldn't shake the feeling that God was calling me to this, that He believed I could do this even when I didn't believe I could.  I still had doubts and struggled with feeling like an imposter.  I never felt ready or courageous or sure, but I said yes anyways.   

And this amazing thing happened.  The more challenged and ill-equipped I felt when I said yes, the more the Lord showed me that He had things to do and say through me.  I never knew that I had words to share with other women that were worth anything to them.  I never knew that my seemingly meaningless story would resonate so deeply with some people.  I never knew that I could write words that anyone would want to read or speak words that anyone would want to hear.  

He showed me so much about myself through this whole journey...good things...and some not so good things to work on. :)  But most of the time I was completely and totally out of my comfort zone just trying my best, and because I showed up, He showed up too.  My time with MOPS was a time of intense growth, but also a time of intense support.  I loved every minute of it, and I would have no idea of God's next step for me if I hadn't said yes to this one.  

2) Always serve a greater purpose. It'll inspire you beyond your own capacity. 

My personal mantra while coordinating MOPS was that every woman feels cared for and connected.  I've said it at least a thousand times.  It's not just a slogan to me, it's a phrase that motivates me to love more, be more, and do more.  It gets me out of myself, my weariness, and my desire to sit on the couch and do nothing (which is also an ok thing to do when you are bone tired with little ones under 5!).  But when things need to get done, I needed something more.  The obvious, "Well, God would want me to ________," didn't inspire me enough.  I needed to not only know what God desired of me, but also how exactly my impact looked on an individual woman...how my time and energies would influence her for the better.  

So, when you need to do the task at hand and it seems there is no more margin in your life to do it, look beyond the task to the greater purpose.  Maybe it's seven layers out, but its there.  Search for meaning behind that fifty-seventh email, planning that event, or organizing that meeting, and squint down that long and windy path to where that meets a woman in need.  It's worth it.  

A writer I love and admire penned the phrase, "More love, less hustle."   When all the tasks to be done overwhelm, and I just feel all hustle, I think of my greater purpose in it all, and somehow the hustle becomes more love.  

3) Never underestimate the power of speaking encouragement and belief into a woman's life. Your singular impact can be huge!! 

I've long had a history of not believing in myself and struggling with self-confidence.  Maybe it keeps me a little more humble in a leadership position, but mostly it's just downright destructive.  When I was asked to coordinate MOPS, one person spoke belief into my life.  She told me that the Lord kept putting me on her heart to co-coordinate this ministry with her, even though she didn't know me at all.  And then throughout the years we served together, she spoke words of encouragement to me like I had never known.  I can tend to err on the side of comparison, of wanting to be better than the next person, but this woman showed me what it is like to be striving for the same things and to care more for reaching across and lifting me up, than getting there without me.  When I spoke at MOPS the first time, I clearly remember her smile as I sought her face in the crowd.  She was like a proud mom, who afterwards didn't hesitate to lavish me with the words that essentially said, "I believe in you."  Time and time again, she has encouraged me and lifted me up by going out of her way to speak belief in me.   ONE person spurred my confidence to coordinate MOPS, to love other women more deeply, to pursue the things I love but didn't believe I could do.  ONE. PERSON.  

Can you imagine if we each did that for one other woman?  What kind of positive ripple effect could we create?  How many lies from the enemy could we stifle?  How much joy could we share?

I don't know what God is doing in your life, but I do know that He will use you mightily if you let Him.  Be open to His authorship on your life...let His pen write the words a step before you walk them.   And know that if you trust and follow Him, your days and your impact will not be in vain.  

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apology not accepted

Most days start with the best of intentions.  We have a fun outing in the morning.  And then somewhere between 3 and 4 o'clock, it all goes south.  Some days, we can be at home, have fun, and maybe even get a load of laundry folded, but other days it feels like this house is sagging with the weight of my heart and our overabundance of stuff.  We are all slowly imploding, and these walls and my flesh are groaning against the pressure.  The pressure to be.  The pressure to hold.  But, I'm here.  I'm all here.  I'm committed to this journey that God has called me to.  I'm committed to these three little souls that make me cry and laugh in an instant.   And yet, when I'm surrounded by the mess and the toys and the crumbs and my silk pillows that I once loved strewn about on the living room floor, I feel like my insides are all zinging about and I might explode.  I feel battered and bruised by this day.

Other days it feels like this house is sagging with the weight of my heart and our overabundance of stuff.

We escape.  We make our way to Target where for 10 beautiful minutes in the car we are all strapped down, and the lure of cheese sticks and dried apricots will hopefully keep everyone at bay for the duration of our trip.  Only, I'm still feeling turned inside out.  Questioning.  Unsure.  Unworthy.  Every moment of this day feels like an assault.  I can't even buy batteries without them being chucked out of the cart 5 times by my son.  Oh Target, why do you only have two carts that seat two kids, which by the way always seem to be in use?  

As I go through the check out line, exhaling that it is now 6pm and my husband should be home soon, I feel tender and raw and vulnerable.  Unaware, I apologize to the cashier repeatedly for opening the cheese sticks before paying and again as I'm handing her empty wrappers to throw out and a half-smooshed and slimy Happy Tot squeeze pack.  She says to me, "Why are you saying that? Is it just a reaction?  Sorry. I'm so sorry. Sorry."  I froze, mortified that she called me out in that way.  She seemed like a strong, unapologetic woman, and here I stood before her crumpled from my day, wanting to melt into the floor.  I didn't realize I had even said it...apparently over and over again.   I blinked back tears and choked through the rest of my check out, mustering as much confidence as I could in my answers to her questions of whether I needed bags and where to put the paper towels.   

And in those few moments I thought.  I thought about this spoken word poem that I heard a while back.

I thought about the time in college that I was acing a super tough human physiology class.  My test was missing when we picked them up, and when I  asked the teacher about it, she inquired my name and in response incredulously said, "YOU'RE Amy Whitaker??"  As if to say, the way I look couldn't possibly match up with a person who could do that well in her class.  How insecure that made me feel.

I thought about how I've been taught to be nice and unencumbering, and how my knee jerk reaction when my head was down,  and I slugged through the last half hour before my husband gets home was to say, "Sorry" repeatedly.   Why is this so ingrained in me that I feel I must apologize for everything.  For me.   Why do I feel the need to make myself smaller -  in stature, in wisdom, in weight, in space.   In person.  

Why is this so ingrained in me that I feel I must apologize for everything?  For me.   Why do I feel the need to make myself smaller -  in stature, in wisdom, in weight, in space.   In person.  

I thought about my own daughter.  Listening. Watching. Absorbing my habits, my traits, my beliefs, and most of all, my actions.   How do I teach her to be kind, yet confident.  Smart, yet not overbearing. Healthy, yet not overly concerned with appearance and weight.   I have found this world to be a confusing place in regards to all of this, and I'm still trying to figure out my place in it.  I am thankful for the grace of God, and I am thankful that we are continually growing and learning.  That the hard days make me savor the good days even more.   And I'm thankful for the woman in Target for seeing me as more than an apology and for reminding me to soldier on.   

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