Microwave Living

I am a “quick and easy” kind of girl.

I like frozen foods that I can whip up for supper. I like Pillsbury and Duncan Hines for making my baking needs speedy and painless. I love that cell phones have twitter, facebook, and internet on them for easy access to things I “need” to know. I love my Swivel Sweeper for making cleaning the kitchen floor a painless process. And I love my microwave. Pop something in, a few seconds {or minutes for the bigger things} and voila! You’ve got a meal [or a snack or whatever...you get the point.]

I got up this morning about 15 minutes after hubby did to pack him a lunch and get my day going. I stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen, avoiding turning on the lights as long as possible. I opened the fridge, pulled out the sandwich meat, and distinctly remember noting that we were almost out of the turkey I use for hubby’s lunch. {Ok…I’m sure he’s not the only one, but he hates the edges on his meat. There are only a few kinds of sandwich meat that’s any good that doesn’t have it on there. And I hate having to pull it off.} I remember making a mental note to make his lunch tonight before we go to bed, that way I don’t have to stand in the kitchen tomorrow morning at 5:45 pulling edges off of turkey. Haha.

After he left, I walked zombie like over to the couch and sat down. I layed my head back on the couch and spent about 15 minutes in prayer. Then I turned on the TV. I recently discovered that Joyce Meyer is on ABC Family at 6:00 in the morning. I flipped over, hoping to catch most of her lesson. She started talking about “Transformation” and the road to get there. She used an analogy of a caterpillar turning into a butterfly that really caught my attention. I can’t remember the whole thing, but I pulled two key points from the analogy that really spoke to me.

1) When the caterpillar feels the “change” coming, he crawls up the back of a tree or limb [or somewhere else where he isn't visible] to wait. Isn’t that what God calls us to do in our faith? In Matthew 6:6, Jesus tells us that we are to “go into our room, close the door and pray to our Father who is unseen. Then our Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward us.” God wants us alone with him, so that we can hear him and feel him moving in our lives. We can’t accomplish the changes that we need to when there are other things distracting us. Just like the caterpillar…if that caterpillar crawled up somewhere totally visible for everyone to see, he would never change. Tiny little fingers and predators looking to cause damage would ruin his transformation. For us, it’s the tiny little fingers of our children or our husbands, or the predators of distraction and business that would keep us from changing.

As I’ve mentioned before, my prayer life is something that needs serious work. I long to be a prayer warrior like so many of the wonderful women I know. This stuck out to me because so often I rush through prayer because of something else that needs doing. Trying to squeeze in a few minutes with God before Noah wakes up, or rushing through a prayer at night before I fall asleep.

2) The second thing was really head on for me and my “easy and quick” living preferences. Joyce was talking about how hard the coming out process is for the butterfly once the change is complete. I’ve never watched a caterpillar hatch from its cacoon, but I’ve heard that it’s kind of a heart wrenching process. The tiny little butterfly struggles and fights with the web its woven around itself to break through and spread it’s wings. I imagine it’s something like being tangled up in a blanket or being cramped up in the backseat of a tiny car…everything in your body is aching because you can’t move and you long to get out and move around. I know children especially are prone to want to “help” the butterfly emerge and free itself, when in reality that does more harm than good.

It’s the same with our Christian lives. As much as we want to “break through” and bust out of the hard times we are in, sometimes it’s just not the right time. Sometimes, we are going through a trial or a season of pain and anguish we just need to be there. God has us there for a reason, and when we try to move through it before it’s in God’s timing, we do more harm than good. I’ve also discovered this is true with forcing God’s will upon yourself. Everything has a timing. This is obviously an important message to us, because God even mentions timing in his book {Ecclisiastes 3:1}

For example, before I met my husband, I tried to force relationships on myself. I would meet a great guy [actually, I met a lot of not so great guys, if you want me to be honest] and think immediately that “this is the one. This is who I am supposed to marry. Okay God, work your wonders and lets get a move on.” Those relationships crashed and burned. Because it wasn’t time. It wasn’t right in God’s will. It wasn’t the guy that I was meant to be with, and I was no where near ready to be in that kind of relationship. I thank God every day that he is the one who is in control because what I have now, the man that I married that GOD chose for me, is infinitely better for me than anyone else ever would have been.

After Joyce’s lesson went off, I started thinking about these things and how the compare to the rushed lifestyle we try to live. We go, go, go all the time, rarely slowing down to take notice of what’s around us and acknowledging the important things. And in our Faith, we have this same kind of thinking about the process of change in our lives. We expect to just accept Christ, live on that mountain top for a while, and when it gets time to make the big changes and clean out the garbage in our lives, we just assume God is going to pop us into his Almighty Microwave and Zap us into Model Christianity. Nah. Doesn’t happen that way. I wish it did. Boy wouldn’t that make things easier? But it doesn’t. We can’t just “zap” our way through life and through faith. We have to await the change and endure the process. Like that butterfly trying to break out of her cacoon. We have to endure the discomfort, the pain, the frustration and the disappointment before we can emerge new and beautifiul.

This was a lesson I needed to hear this morning. I need to learn how to slow down and endure the things that aren’t so easy. Cook a meal instead just unfreezing it {I really don’t cook frozen food that often. I swear.} I need to pull out the handy old broom and sweep around all the corners and underneath the table where my amazing Swivel Sweeper won’t reach. I really should take the time to bake cookies from scratch, just for the sake of following my Grandmother’s recipe. I need to work on the relationships in my life that are somewhat unraveled instead of just assuming they will fix themselves. And I need to get up in the mornings and pull those stupid edges off of the Turkey-because that’s how my husband likes it, and I’m his wife and my job is to do things to make him happy.

It’s time to stop microwave living…expecting the zap without the effort.

In actuality, I don’t want to be zapped anyway. I look back on the hardships in my life, the things that I then wished I could just fast-forward myself through, and I’m glad that they happened. They build character. The build stregth. The build Faith. They force me to fall back on Jesus, and that’s what it’s all about.

And even when I think that things aren’t going to get better…
When I think that I’m never going to break out…
When I worry that things will never be different and never change…

 It’s then that I emerge….

 Beautiful, Fulfulled and Complete in Jesus Christ Alone.

God Speaks

You’ve never felt this way have you? Like you have 10 million things going on at one time? Like you are being pulled in 100 different directions? Like you just can’t seem to get a grip on things no matter how hard you try? Yeah. Me either. Not.

If I’ve learned anything in the past almost two years, it’s this: People don’t tell you the entire truth about marriage and motherhood.

Prior to the “I Do’s” it’s all, “Marriage is wonderful! It’s the greatest thing to ever happen to you. Being married isn’t hard at all…blah blah blah.” And that’s partly true. Marriage is wonderful and blissful and is by far the greatest thing to ever happen to me. But it’s definitely NOT simple and easy.

Prior to child-birth [especially during those "we are trying" months/weeks] it’s all, “Oh being a parent is the most rewarding thing in the world. There is nothing else like it. You won’t ever get tired of being with your baby…” Again, all of that is true, but aren’t these people leaving something out? Aren’t they forgetting to tell you a few things about these wonderful, happy, greatest moment of your life milestones? Ummm…yes. I would say so.

No one tells you before you get married that on the days your husband ticks you off beyond belief that you have to spend the rest of the night in the same house with him trying not to wring his neck. No one tells you that arguements…big ones…are going  to happen and you just have to deal with it. No one bothers to mention that the ‘honey moon’ period really does end, no matter how ‘hot and heavy’ you are for one another when you are dating.

No one bothers to mention the fact that babies don’t sleep the first several months of life. And that when they don’t sleep, you don’t sleep. Or that when you’re a mom, your life circles and revolves around your new baby for a long time. Or that, contrary to popular belief among people who don’t have kids, you really won’t always want to ‘do it’ with your husband after you’ve been up all night and day with a crying newborn. Nor do they tell you that said husband won’t always want to ‘do it’ with you either when he comes home tired from work and then has to encounter a frustrated exhausted wife and mother and a still crying baby.

Life changes when you get married. And it especially changes when you have a baby. It’s overwhelming. It can honestly drive you nuts if you don’t have a place to filter all of your worries and concerns. Lucky for me, I discovered blogging prior to having little man so I haven’t had to undergo expensive therapy sessions to cure my moderate insanity {yet}. But it can be frustrating. And exhausting. And completely and totally nerve wracking.

I woke up this morning after spending most of the day Monday & Tuesday attempting to put my house back in order after the holiday madness, to find my house a disaster. Again. Earlier this week I took down the Christmas lights and decorations [though the actual tree is still standing naked in the corner of my living room], cleaned the kitchen like a mad woman, scrubbed the bathroom where everyone was in and out while they were here, and put away all of the toys, clothes, and junk items that were just lying around. And I wake up this morning to a house that looks as if it hadn’t been cleaned in over a month. The dishes were piled up in the sink, little mans toys were all over the place, papers were piled up on the bar…it was awful. And I temporarily lost it.

You know how us moms can go into this sort of panic mode? Where you are running around like a crazy person just let out of the nut house trying to deal with everything all at one time. I snapped at my son, who isn’t even old enough to be snapped at yet. I rammed by little toe into the door frame while I was trying to carry dishes to the sink, allowing a few not so nice four letter words to slip out of my mouth. And I knocked over a cup of Gatorade…all over the kitchen floor. Which required immediate clean up so it didn’t get sticky-which didn’t prove easy to do when I was having to use one hand to hold my beloved little mess maker away from the puddling pile of juice he wanted so badly to splash in.

Finally, I threw my hands up and sat down. I got ill and just said to myself that I wasn’t going to do anything. The mess could just sit there and someone else could clean it. [Not that that would EVER happen because there is no way I could just let it sit...that's not in my blood. It drives me nuts.] Low and behold it was during this fiasco that the good Lord decided it was the perfect time to speak to me.

It utterly amazes me the ways God can talk to us if we just take the time to slow down and listen. God is really quite creative, I have to give him that. Because this morning, the big spoke to me through a vegetable.

Yep. These guys. Bob and Larry. Rather than sending messages to children all across the world this morning, they were talking to me. A 20-something mom who felt at the end of her rope this morning. The message wasn’t anything complex {I mean, really. We are talking about a childrens TV show with talking vegetables. How complex could it be?} It wasn’t like they were teaching on Leviticus or anything. Little man was watching “Gideon: Tuba Warrior” and I was only halfway paying attention to it. But the part that I did hear was this:

“God, you could have chosen anyone else for this job. But you didn’t. You chose me. Thank you.”

What a great prayer and an eye opener. There was Gideon, about to go to war against an army that was so much bigger than his. He was afraid…probably terrified of the outcome.  But in this time of uncertainty and weariness, he took the time to remember that God had specifically chosen him for the job at hand. How awesome is that? To know that, no matter how overwhelming and frustrating life gets, that our Lord has chosen us for the very task at hand.

God picked me out of all of the other women on this Earth to be partnered with my husband. To battle life with, the enjoy things with, to love and cherish. Me. He chose me out of all of the other moms out there to bless with this little boy. No one else. He didn’t give anyone else on this Earth and Josh or a Noah like mine. He gave them to me, and me to them. What a humbling realization. That no matter what happens in my life-whether it be in our marriage or within our realm of parenthood, I was chosen for this job. I was hand selected by the Lord himself to be here, right now, with this man and little boy.

I know things happen and that life gets in the way, but right now as I write this, I am making myself a promise: to not let the little things keep me from remembering that this is my calling. This is where God wants me right now. He wants me heree, in Florida, in this house, cleaning up this mess or that mess. He wants me here cooking my husband and son a good meal. He wants me here keeping the laundry washed and the house tidy for my husband who works to keep a roof over our heads and food on our table. He wants me here, blogging about what he’s teaching me with each of you in hopes that I may offer encouragement. This is what I am here for. God could have chosen anyone else to do this job. But he didn’t. He chose me. And for that I am thankful.

Courtney Kirkland
Beautiful Mess

Black Sheep

I’ll be honest with you. I have often felt like the “black sheep” in my family. And, if I were to be honest with myself, with most everyone else as well. Not in the sense that I am a criminal or that I am “bad” {as is the ‘technical’ black sheep definition}, but just in the idea that I have always felt like I was on the outside. Always the third wheel or the one that just didn’t quite fit anywhere. The one on the back-burner.

In school, I never found a place that I fit.

I remember being the only one from my group of friends in 4th grade to not be in Mrs. Mim’s class [She was the "it" teacher for the 4th grade...everyone wanted her class.] I was devastated. All of my friends were in her class and I was forced to make new friends. I remember looking on at lunch because they were all together and feeling left out. During PE & Recess they had their own ‘group’ I was no longer included in because I wasn’t in the same class.

In Junior High, I was the only one not dating and wearing makeup [and the only one still in a training bra...for those of you who would like to know that.] I remember all of my friends having dates to the 6th Grade dance. I also remember standing against the wall…alone…during every. single. slow song. Same thing at the 7th grade dance. And the 8th. I had friends. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t that girl by any means. I just always felt…distant. [If you ever watch Country Music Videos, I was kind of the girl Taylor Swift is portraying in her video "You Belong With Me." Kind of a geek...not exactly popular...you get the idea.]

High School was the worst. I was best friends with the “it” girl and her “it” sister. I was the one the guys came to…when they wanted to ask one of them out. I was always the single friend. I was the one that their boyfriends called when they had a fight, in hopes that I could patch things up for them. I was also always the one that wanted the guy, but never the one the got the guy. I didn’t mesh with the popular crowd. I didn’t have the right clothes or car or hairstyle or whatever to fit in with them. I found true friendships with people like myself…people who wanted to “be” but just couldn’t.

I hated High School. HATED it. I  hear people say that they would love to go back and do it again…uh-uh. Nope. Not this girl. Never, would I ever want to go back to High School. I look back and remember some of  the loneliest times of my life.

I found my way a little in college…by taking up bad habits. I started drinking and smoking and partying with the “it” girls and found myself belonging a little bit. But then, I discovered that even though I was fitting in and making “friends” {and use that in the lightest sense of the word} I was still lonely. I was still best friends with the beautiful girls that everyone wanted to be with. I was still the one sitting at home on Friday Nights when there wasn’t a party going on and everyone else was out dating. I was still the one that my friends boyfriends were calling or texting or facebooking to fix an argument or set them up. I was just that person.

Now, as I am an adult and I’m “mature” these things don’t bother me. Okay. Kidding. That is a lie. A BIG one. And I know that now I am not alone. There seems to be lots of outsiders out there. Turns out, I married one. Hubby grew up in a family that dealt him the same kind of cards. His grandparents showed favor to his cousins and partiality to them for reasons that are way beyond my grasp. {Trust me…if you knew his 2 cousins, knew their lifestyles & habits…and knew hubby, you would wonder why on Earth they showed them partiality too.} And, as I get older, I find myself looking back and feeling that I was done that way quite often in my own family. That the partiality was shown to my sister, for one reason or another.

And it hurts.

It’s painful to feel like you don’t measure up and that you are second to someone else. Especially when it is someone that you feel you shouldn’t be ‘beneath.’ We all want to feel wanted. To feel needed. To feel desired and loved and appreciated. To feel like we aren’t walking around this Earth without a purpose or anyone to care.

And finally, tonight [well, it will be last night when you read this], after hearing a phone conversation between my hubby and his mother that relates to this very topic, I have realized something. Something that it has taken me 20-something years of tears and pain and heartache and even depression to understand: It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter. At all. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. It doesn’t matter if I am ‘popular’ {and yes, as a grown woman, wife & mother we all still worry about that and long to belong}or whether I have an overflow of friends. It doesn’t matter if I’m “in” or not. You know why?

Because, “you created my inmost being. You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful. I know that full well…all of the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!” {Psalms 139:13-14, 16-17}

God created me. He made me who I am and the way that I am for a reason. He placed me in those situations and circumstances for a reason. They made me who I am. And despite the pain or the hurt that they may have caused me, I am grateful for them because they made me, ME. It just doesn’t matter. All I can do is live the life that I was called to live, in the way that I was called to live and know that that is enough. That’s all that I can do. That’s all that I need to do. That’s all that I want to do.

So, maybe I am the “black sheep”…maybe hubby is to. Maybe we will both always be on the back burner. Maybe we will always bring up the rear and be the sidekicks. But that’s okay. Because I am not the only one to feel as if I’m an outsider. There was another. He too was an outsider. And outcast. One who felt “distant.” And he understands. He gets it. Who is he?

They call him Jesus.
And he too was a “black sheep.”

So for now, I’ll continue to be on the back-burner.
It’s okay if I’m not “it” or “in.”

Because if I’m the club with him, being that sheep, really is okay.

Courtney

http://www.thekirkland-family.blogspot.com

The Wife that He Deserves

I love my husband. I really, really do.

He is a hard worker, he makes me laugh, he loves me and our son more than anything else. He treats me like a queen and does all that he can do to make us all happy. He sacrifices a lot for the sake of our family and I could not ask for a better man to spend the rest of my life with. God definitely chose us to be together because no one else on this Earth could compliment me the way that he does. Everything about us fits together; especially our personalities. I am quiet and tend to overlook the petty things that cause conflict, where he can be loud and likes to make sure everyone knows where he stands on a situation. Nothing wrong with that. Especially considering that I am usually the one that tends to avoid conflict. I just have no interest in arguing about things that generally don’t matter. He’s great. He really, really is.

But sometimes, he drives me crazy. Sometimes we are so different that we butt-heads and really get one another angry. {I swear, sometimes I think he does it on purpose, just to get me frustrated.} There are few things that really get me going and push my buttons, and he knows exactly what those things are and has no problems just pushing away. I don’t mind being a stay at home mom and doing the cleaning. Contrary to what a lot of women believe, I don’t think asking him to come home and tend to the house is very fair after he works 8 and 9 hours a day during the week. BUT when I spend the same 8 or 9 hours during the day cleaning-better yet scrubbing-the house, folding the clothes, chasing a toddler, and picking up toys and he comes in and leaves clothes all over the floor?! I get extremely ill and very, very frustrated and tend to lash out unknowlingly. I ask him calmly to put his things away and when he doesn’t, I pick them up like a good housewife should.

  

Or when I am in need of a good hug and he is too busy to offer one…
Or when I want to talk about his day at work, just for the sake of not discussing juice & diapers for the 90 millionth time that week, and he says that his day was “fine”…

Or when I ask really sweetly, or even seductively, for a kiss while he is playing the computer or watching ESPN, and all I get is a hen peck while he keeps one eye focused on the TV…

 

Oh your husband does that to? So you understand what I mean, right? Doesn’t it drive you up the WALL!?

 

When we first got married, I tried to fix my husband. I had in my mind this little mold that I thought he should fit into. He was supposed to do everything that I liked, watch the movies and the TV shows I wanted to watch, when I wanted to watch them. He was supposed to have sex every single time I wanted to, and never bat an eyelash [never was he to be too tired or sore from work. I mean, hello, he's a man...] And sports? Never would my husband want to watch baseball or football endlessly. But that’s not real life. That’s not marriage. That’s not my husband. And it’s taken me a long time to be ok with that.

 

In the beginning, when these things arose, I got mad. I treated my husband unfairly and in a hateful manner. When conflict came up, rather than trying to fix the situation in a kind, calm manner, I delt with them with frustration and unkindness. I hated the fact that the man that I married didn’t “fit” into my ideal marriage plan. He wasn’t doing the things that I thought he needed to do. He wasn’t treating me the way that I thought I deserved to be treated. And I wasn’t happy.

 

I’ve begun to really notice some strange activity in our culture. This idealogy that women are supposed to “train” their husbands and “teach them” how to behave. What are they dogs? What ever happened to the Christian idea of marriage? That the man is the head of the household? That men and women are supposed to be helpmates and encourage one another? That while we have differences and think the exact opposite, we are created to complement one another? I tell ya, this idea that women are supposed to rule the roost over their husbands makes me sick. {Think Kate Gosselin and the way she degraded and talked to Jon like he was an incompetant.}

 

Marriage is sacred. It was created to be beautiful. And God had his idea of which role each of us was to play in his perfect marriage. As a wife, I have had much to learn about my duties in our marriage. Ever read Proverbs 31 or Titus 2? Talk about a standard of living! When we started attending our church several months ago, they were getting ready to begin a class on the Elizabeth George novel “A Woman After God’s Own Heart.” {I encourage you to READ this BOOK if you haven’t yet. It will change your perspective on marriage and parenting like you wouldn’t believe!} The class was very indepth and very informative on the kind of wife, homemaker, and mother I should be. God has a lot of plans for us as women. He really does. It’s just a matter of choosing to let him change you.

 

 

 

I’m not saying that men have no responsibilities in marriage. The exact opposite actually. But as a wife, how can you judge the job your husband is doing, when you aren’t doing yours? That’s been the hardest thing for me to learn. How to be the right kind of wife. And it’s something that God teaches me and shows me every single day. The biggest thing God has taught me is that I can’t change my husband. No matter how hard I try. God is the creator of all things and he made my husband the way that he is for a reason. He essentially created him for me to compliment me. Rather than spending my time nagging my husband to do things differently and consistently tell ing him what it is I think he is doing wrong, I  have to turn him over to God.

 

 

If you’ve never read any of “The Power of Praying” books, by Stormie Omartian I encourage you to purchase one. These are fantastic books to teach you not only what to pray for, but how to pray it. I bought her “Power of a Praying Wife” book for $7 and it has made all of the difference in our marriage. By turning my husband over to the Lord, I know that he is in the best of hands. By letting God change him, he is changed from the inside rather than just because I keep nagging him. And God always one ups me. He always changes my husband in even better ways than I can imagine. And he changes me. He shows me things that I need to work on. He shows me that I am not the perfect wife he created me to be. And that’s what my husband deserves. He deserves the very best wife he can have. He deserves someone who strives to be all that she can be. He deserves a Godly Wife who prays for him and encourages him spiritually. He deserves the right kind of wife. And that’s what I want to give him.

 

 

 

So, for now, I will tolerate the clothes on the floor {although, admittingly, I probably won’t do it without atleast asking him to pick them up.} I will sit and watch sports with my husband. I will laugh with him when we watch stupid man TV shows. And I will continue to pray for him. Continue to love him. Continue to take care of him. Because that’s what he deserves. 

 

 

Courtney

Beautiful Mess