In-Laws

My middle-aged Italian in-laws are awesome. I have to assume most people who read that sentence go back and read it again to make sure they read right. It’s true, they rock. I have much to be thankful for regarding my in-laws. They are open-minded and intelligent and loving and compassionate and fun and love to shower love, affection, and anything they can give on their family. They have also been the catalyst for growth and metamorphosis in my perspective and my marriage. Allow me to explain.

First, a bit of backstory: I remember sitting across the table from my soon-to-be-mother-in-law (Angela) when she started crying for seemingly no reason, although I couldn’t shake the feeling it had to do with me. I knew then that this was going to be an interesting ride, but I vowed to be a good daughter-in-law. In-laws have a bad enough rep as it is; throw in cultural differences and communication breakdowns and you are in for a real treat. But we are fortunate to be the only married couple in both of our families, all of whom are local, so the natural thing to do is to spend holidays together as a large group. The food is always good, that’s for sure, and it gave us time to get to know one another and celebrate our differences.

The most obvious difference I determined from the beginning was money. My parents are savers, his are spenders. Interestingly, he and I are the opposite. It was never a huge problem, but made a few gift-giving occasions awkward. When I had my first child, their first grandson, the proverbial ante was forever upped. I started to notice my controlling nature and insecurity rearing its ugly head. My mother valued discipline (always in love) and raised me to be very independent, and Angela employed positive reinforcement and the attachment-style parenting with her sons. I had the pleasure of wading through two polar opposite parenting influences from the part-time caregivers of my firstborn…awesome. It’s truly wonderful, because my children are more well-rounded and malleable for it.

 

When I say controlling, I mean I required notes about poops and pees and bottles and reflux and naps and food. I had to be the first to see his first steps. That’s right moms; this maniac actually told them that if they saw steps before me to pretend they didn’t, and let me see them on my own. (They must have, because to this day I believe I got his official first steps on camera). I even told my husband that we had to be the ones to purchase certain “big” gifts first. I wanted to be the one to provide the good stuff; I wanted to be the most important person in this kid’s life (besides his papa). And still, they rolled with it, while I taught them just how to hold, burp, wipe, or feed him as thought they had never experienced a child before, the grandparents all took it in graceful stride and never let me see their hurt feelings or eye rolls.

Now that I have made myself look like a rock star parent and daughter, I’ll recount the growth–inducing experience: After I had my second child, a daughter, we had a real life changer: we birthed a restaurant. Yes, Sapori rocked our collective world perhaps more than the children did. All day, every day, day and night, every thought, every conversation, and every ounce of effort that wasn’t directed toward my children was for Sapori. At the time I worked with them Angela and I managed the staff and the front-of the house, and the men managed the back of the house. Maia was born in November, and in January we were in the restaurant interviewing and hiring servers.

It was all worth it, because when we opened we were successful, it has been a blessing to our family, and all of the hard work continues to pay off. We turned a profit in the first year, which is rare, especially in this economy.

Working with family is hard. Real astute observation, you say? I had heard it would be hard, and people would look at me with eyes that said “Oh, I’m so sorry” when I told them I worked with family. But I thought I was immune. It’s only hard for families that don’t get along…we love each other, so we’ll be fine. I loved working with my husband. To get to see him each day and be a part of his life’s work was invigorating and valuable. I have natural leadership tendencies (I know, surprise!), so I enjoyed being the boss. The problem was, so did Angela. We had very different management styles, and I thought that since I had an education and prior management experience that CLEARLY my ideas about how things should happen were the right ones, and I was inflexible. It pushed a big ole wedge between us. Our relationship suffered, and that poison eventually leaked into the workspace. Staff started to catch on, and they tried to manipulate it. Family caught on, and they tried to avoid the budding issue.

Finally something happened to upset me, and I snapped. I left the restaurant and didn’t talk to my in-laws for more than a week. During that time I was sure to let the kids talk to them. I will never be that mom. I knew we would get over it, but needed time and space to wrap my head around where we were and how we got there. I prayed over it, talked to a minister at my church, and finally did what helps me organize and understand my thoughts best, wrote it down. I wrote a letter to my in-laws explaining how I felt. We got together as a family and discussed it. I knew I had made a childish choice leaving the way I did. If my in-laws had responsibility, my behavior trumped the original offense (for which I still believe I had a right to be upset).  But, I did the right thing and met them halfway. I admitted a portion of the fault so that we could overcome. But I did not go back to work at Sapori, and things have been worlds better ever since.

The growth came in two ways. First, my husband, God love him, had to make this his problem as well, since these were his parents, and while I was busy ignoring them, he was still seeing them at work each day.  He had to look seriously at the entire situation, from both points of view, and chose a direction. He had to decide his own perspective on the matter because I made it very clear that sitting on the fence was not an option. I realized during that time, that since Dario had been raised in a codependent environment, he had never been exposed to a circumstance under which he might consider the accuracy of his parents’ judgment. That is to say, as a 30 year old man, he still thought his parents were always right. I literally watched him discover that his parents are not superpowers who are devoid of error.  

From this discovery I realized how delicate my position in our marriage and our family is. I understood that, since I am a natural leader, and he is accustomed to decisions being made for him, this has implications for my role in our family. God allowed me to see that in order for him to grow confident in his ability to lead our family, in faith as well as provision; I needed to make myself smaller and smaller. And the result has been astonishing. He has since become a leading decision maker for Sapori Chester (my in-laws are about to open a second location in Williamsburg) and my biggest supporter in this seminary journey.

Secondly, my perspective changed as I was growing spiritually in my relationship with Christ. The whole time I was ignoring my in-laws, I was praying for God to change my heart, to allow forgiveness, and for wisdom in how to address this hurt. The whole time, his still, small voice whispered, “This is not the right way to do this” and “It’s your stand, you need to make this right.” He showed me that I have as much fault as anyone.  Had this indiscretion never occurred between me and my in-laws, we may not have made these beautiful strides in our marriage and in our faith walk.

Every once and a while when my mind wanders to that place where I rehash the events of the fallout, and the memory recalls a bitter taste in my mouth, I think on the lovely things about my in-laws. I have so much respect for the beautiful man who left his family, friends, and the comfort of his culture and his country in order to provide a better life for his family. I adore the fact that my in-laws came to America and attended classes to learn English and welcomed with open arms this crazy, controlling girl into their family and treated me like their own. I am forever humbled and eternally grateful that they, being born catholic and not understanding the Baptist doctrine, attended and cried tears of joy for their son at his (second) baptism. They are flexible. They roll with it. They are courageous and loving and I love them.

 

Progress

I love my job.  I mean, its a job...and sure, I'd love to be at home with my babies, (most days) but if I have to work, it may as well be for something that I believe in. What a journey. I went from waking up in a hospital a few times in my late teens/early twenties to serving and working in a church and attempting seminary. That's a story of grace if ever there was one.

 

Far from perfect, I am making it my life goal to help others who are far from perfect understand that they don't have to be. I have come so far in my comprehension of God's unconditional love for me, and I like myself SO MUCH more than I used to. I still have quite a way to go to get where I want to be, but getting up and going to work each day helps.

 

I have the pleasure of interacting with loving people, both church members and staff, who try to see the best in others. I get to read scripture and listen to gospel music and raise interest for community missions efforts, but I am also exposed to illness and loss and death. But even in death I see a peaceful end. I see comforted family and loved ones. I see the love and kindness that abounds when one of us becomes weak.

 

 

Let me back up: about 2 weeks ago I found out that the Seminary I was accepted to will give me less than half of what I expected to receive from scholarship funds. That was an unexpected blow. As normal, I had dreamt up a tidy little notion of what funding should look like. I realized that day that I have not even considered how to respond if I do not receive funding for this endeavor. Let me be clear: I have NO money to put toward seminary. I also do not wish to rack up $42k in student loan debt. I have applied for 2 scholarships, which I hope will pay for the majority of my first year. The remainder would be paid for out of pocket and if necessary with a significantly smaller student loan.

 

From the beginning I have said "Not my will, but His." But I am not sure my mind is ready for 'not my will.' Is it possible to put too much faith into a desired outcome? I have been so certain that this is God's call on my life, and that He will provide the funds. Now that my magic number is being challenged, I am kind of just treading water. I will hear about the larger scholarship in June sometime. Until then, I wait. 

 

 

 

Yesterday, when I got to work after the holiday weekend, I settled in and had an early morning visitor, which usually means that something is needed and I am the one to provide it. I am happy to be helpful, and for a purpose that is service-oriented. However, the visitor informed me that the church council met last week and decided that the Nim Lawrence Scholarship Fund, which was previously only open to members, should be open to staff as well, and that although I had not applied, I was awarded a $1000 scholarship. Talk about humbling. God loves me so much, and he just wanted to give me a little nudge. 'I have faith in you, too', he says.

 

I'm still a ways away, but I can see a path clearing. I am making progress. Not of myself, but by His grace, always.

 

Nothing is wasted.

Nothing is wasted.

The hurt that broke your heart … will tell you hope's a lie, but what if every tear you cry will seed the ground where joy will grow … It's from the deepest wounds that beauty finds a place to bloom, and you will see, before the end, that every broken piece is gathered in the heart of Jesus, and what's lost will be found again.  

When hope is more than you can bear, and it’s too hard to believe it could be true, and your strength fails you halfway there, just lean on me and I’ll believe for you. And in time, you will believe it too.

Sometimes we are waiting in the sorrow we have tasted, but joy will replace it. And nothing is wasted, nothing is wasted, in the hands of our Redeemer, nothing is wasted. ~Jason Gray

A random tornado occurs that drowns children and rips everything away from so many families, a random boy accidentally shoots and kills his sister. A woman learns life-changing news that makes her angry with God. I would be angry with God, too.

Even believers struggle with why bad things happen. We look to God, needing somewhere to place blame, someone to hold accountable.  Our compassion and love for humanity, which is a gift of the spirit of Christ that is in us (Gal. 5:22), makes it difficult to comprehend the pain and suffering of our fellow man.

³ More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, ⁴ and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, ⁵ and hope does not disappoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us.  ~Romans 5:3-5

I think it is okay to be angry with God, he knows our hearts. He wants our honesty. He uses our fresh, raw brokenness, our confusion; our aching hearts that scream WHY? I think He will take it all as long as we are looking to him for answers.  He says to seek his face with all our hearts and we will find him (Jeremiah 29:13).  I posit that we will never seek his face as hard as when we demand an accounting for some unfair circumstance. And he WILL answer.

When we come to him in our anguish, remember that God knows our suffering because he experienced it firsthand. He put on flesh and endured every ugly thing that we could possibly throw at him.

 

It gives me comfort to imagine the angel army mentioned in Isaiah. Our perfect Creator wants an awesome and powerful army. Without brokenness there is no healing process. It is in the healing that we are perfected for his glory. The trials of others move us to act in love and provision for one another. Our heavenly Father gives us hope and love and light and peace in our darkness to sustain us that we might draw nearer to Him in faith. 

God is not the author of our trails; he is the antithesis of them. He is the end goal, the prize. God is what we are seeking; he is the completion, the ultimate and eternal fulfillment.  We can trust that he works all things together for good for those who love Him. (Romans 8:28) Every bad day, every tragedy, every incomprehensible circumstance will mold us into the perfect creature He will use for his glory for all eternity.

Excess: Food

Excess? I pride myself on enjoying most things in moderation. Balance is pretty much my measure of success. Husband, kids, house, church, work, friends, projects and errands…I try to make sure that all areas are in neat tidy little formulaic rotations that keep my life in a healthy rhythm of prioritized focus. However, my lady pals and I are engaging in a biweekly bible study called 7: AnExperimental Mutiny Against Excess.  I am admittedly NOT excited about investigating my happy little routine to identify things which might distract me from relationship with Christ or my purpose in Him. Nonetheless, I am in it to win it. I have my eyes on the prize:  More Jesus.

Today marks the start of the Food portion of the experiment. In talking with my better half, the Italian Chef (no conflict of interest there), we have decided together that rather than fasting from or on certain foods, I will limit myself to cooking that which we already have. I am supposed to take inventory of items in my freezer, fridge, and pantry (A chore I shall tackle tonight) and then create a week's worth of meals from that. 

Sounds pretty easy, right? Except that I do not cook, nor do I plan meals. I haven’t had to, because my husband has an entire restaurant at his fingertips. If we are low on something, I text him and he brings it home. I grocery shop about twice a month, always for the same basics: waffles, nutella, sandwich fixins, chips and dips, cereals, fruits and cheese, frozen veggies and meats.  Everything is usually eaten up in one week, after which we eat out (or in, courtesy of Sapori Ristorante Italiano) until the next time I absolutely HAVE to go to the grocery store. Probably not creating the best habits, but it works for us and most importantly saves me time and energy that is better spent (in my estimation) elsewhere. 

 

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE food (did you hear? I married a chef) but it is not so important to me that I feel the need to strictly control how or what or when we eat. The only thing that matters to me is that my kids have 3 healthy meals a day, and that at least one of those meals during the week, and 2 on weekends is spent at the table as a family.  So, needless to say, this added level of organization and planning for something that is usually a mindless and simple process for me (meals) will be inconvenient to say the least….which is precisely the point.

I started the day in the Word instead of on Facebook. (The technology fast is going to really sting, I can already tell.) That is real progress. I used to be a morning person, then I had kids, and now my mornings come too soon and the little ones’ level of energy and excitement and seize-the-day-ness is just, well, annoying until I have had 2 cups of coffee. (Did I mention we have coffee in the pantry, so that is safe?) So it has been on my to-do list for quite some time to enjoy quiet time with my savior in the mornings, but I usually fail miserably at making him my first priority. I pray that this time of routine-upsetting introspection makes room for newer, healthier, and LASTING habits to be formed.  
 

How does eating that which I already have lead me to Jesus? The inconvenience of it all will turn my mind to the Lord, who was more than inconvenienced in what He did for me. I am reminded each time I begrudgingly heat up oil in a sauté pan and chop onions in preparation for or soak dirty dishes in the sink after dinner to do everything for the glory of God. I will save money on groceries and spend more nights at home, but most importantly this whole process will turn my eyes upon Jesus, and I am excited about that. I hope I stay that way. I’ll keep you posted.
 

"I Lift my eyes to the hills-- where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth." Psalm 121:1-2

Work in Progress

Ugh. Today is just...kldnsdfsjh;fhksk. Yep, it's like that. I made a mistake a few nights ago and it is bothering me.

 

I must admit, I had quite a run of happy days with minimal problems and very little stress. I admit I am smack in the middle of a very content and lovely season of life. Things are going along swimmingly, I have everything I need. Family and friends abound, church, work, and extracurricular running smoothly, bills paid, healthy, truly all good. Future so bright, I gotta wear shades.

 

I'm reminded that "in this world, you will have trouble" (John 16:33). Things can't always be roses and sunshine, (although they should). I have prayed, I have read God's word, and I have talked it over with my varied arsenal of sound counsel. I have appropriately convinced myself that there is nothing more I can do, but I still feel uneasy. I'm about to cross the bridge from pride to regret. I was hoping not to visit that place. I could do entirely without having to see it ever again. but alas, here we are.

 

I am not about to air my dirty laundry, but I will say this: family is the most complicated love there is, and we can't take back our words. I am learning that I cannot fix everything. I have a hard time with not being able to fix things. I think I'm great at coming up with efficient solutions to problems, and I am chock full of advice and consolation for just about any situation. When there is something that I have done, which could have been improved upon, I walk myself right on through the same conversation I would have with myself if I were my best friend (I am), then I walk through with it with my real friends just to be sure I am right.
 

You see, I have this uncanny ability (or in my mind I do) to feel what others feel. My powers of empathy run in overdrive ALL THE TIME. I consider other's feelings to the detriment of my own. That's not to say that this trait is pure selflessness; see previous paragraph. What happens when the way I perceive someone must feel given a certain circumstance is...wrong? Ugh, I shudder at the thought. My intuition is impeccable. Sometimes.
 

Wanting to be the fixer-upper is a symptom of pride. When it comes right down to it, I need to think before I speak. I am supposed to speak Life. I should know better by now. But as long as I am breathing, God is working on me. Next up: Humility (Not my strong suit).

 

The remainder of the scripture I mentioned earlier is "But take heart! I have overcome the world." If it feels wrong, it is the Holy Spirit within me (Thank God) that will not allow unlovely things to exist within me. While I am not responsible with how others think act or feel, I am responsible for what comes out of my mouth, and I need to make sure that it is always lovely.

 

Seminary Entrance Essay

When I was three, I would raise my hands in the air praising Jesus, singing hymns.  My favorite was “I Love you, Lord,” but sometimes I made up my own, I have video proof.  I gave my heart to Jesus when I was about 7 or eight years old.  I was outside in my back yard and I said a prayer asking him to come into my heart and be the guiding force for my spirit.  I had a heart-shaped balloon in my hand that had “I love you” written on it, and I let it go, to float symbolically to my Savior.  I will never forget how tangible the Holy Spirit was at that time.

My desire to attend seminary began as a slight urging, almost like a question in my head and became more prevalent each day. Since that glimmer of curiosity has become a glaring, screaming declaration that seems to transcend me and is oblivious to any obstacles that may exist, I decided to apply. If a ministerial vocation is, indeed, God's call on my life as I expect it is, He will provide a way. However I desire His will, not mine.

I am an active member of Colonial Heights Baptist Church. My husband Dario was born Catholic in Palermo, Sicily. For almost seven years now, ever since we got married, we visited just about every church in the area. We became disillusioned because we have very different perspectives of what worship looks like. Thankfully we both love to learn. Pastor Randy Hahn is the consummate teacher. Our kids love the children's programs there and Dario was baptized last November.  Since we joined in June of 2011, we have joined a Sunday school class, which I now co- teach.

I adore my Sunday school class, we are family.  I was just asked to co-teach the class; last Sunday was my first time speaking and it felt so natural.  Mostly young married couples with children, we engage in quarterly community service projects, such as painting a pregnancy center, cleaning the yard of a local museum, and feeding people lunch in lower income communities. We support Chosen Children Ministry in Nicaragua and have adopted in prayer and relationship a missionary couple named Brent and Amanda Turner in Botswana, Africa. One of our Sunday school teachers just left the class because his wife was called to start a home for women with unplanned pregnancies from ages 12-21 called Grace Home Ministries, in Chester, VA.  I am the volunteer coordinator for that nonprofit.  I also teach the 4 year olds every other Sunday during the last hour, and lead Awana programs for them on Wednesday nights.  I help, when I can, to go on FATIH visits to guests that have visited the church, inviting them back and answering their questions.  

I work full time at a lovely church, Derbyshire BaptistChurch in Richmond. I have been there since July 2012, when I instantly was endeared to the people there. They demonstrate such faith in action and are so welcoming and genuine. Dr. Jeffrey Raymond is the pastor, and I am his secretary. I have learned a great deal about how expansive my love is for Christ’s Church.  For example, I prefer contemporary worship, but Derbyshire has a breathtaking 80-person traditional Chancel Choir. At one point just prior to my employment at Derbyshire, I was feeling convicted about my perspective of the elderly and aging, and God sent me to work at a church with a large and thriving population of very active seniors, and has instilled in me an inexplicable genuine love for these people.

The Baptist doctrine of believer’s baptism by immersion is near and dear to my heart since my beautiful husband was baptized last November.  He was Catholic, and therefore sprinkled as an infant, and so we worked through the practical and scriptural reasons for baptism.  He decided that practically, if one is pursuing a relationship with Christ, the first step should symbolically demonstrate that choice before a church family so that they can hold one accountable and encourage and support that faith relationship.  I believe that while baptism doesn’t save someone, it is a necessary step in their walk with Christ because Jesus said ‘confess be before men and I will confess you before my father’, and because we look to Jesus as our example for how to live. The perfect son of God was immersed in the waters of baptism to set an example for His followers.

I hope to employ Christian education in a ministerial or congregational role in a Baptist church. I value the opportunity to teach others about God’s word and how to read it, allow the Holy Spirit to interpret, and apply it to their lives in a systematic and clear manner. My goal is to alleviate some of the intimidation people feel toward scripture and also to demonstrate that the bible is neither boring nor out of touch with current life, rather, that it is a living document, God-breathed and perennially relevant.  I also enjoy the ministerial role of pastoral care; I have always been very concerned with others’ feelings.  I realize that my opinion or perspective will never be as effective at ministering to another as the Word of God, which includes direction for remediating any problem, consolation for any fear, doubt, worry or sadness, and praise for every measure of worship.

My life consists of Jesus, family, church and work, and friends, in that order. I am organized and continually try to balance the various components of my life in order to remain content and fulfilled.  I enjoy working in a church because there is no chance of a competition for priority between my livelihood and my faith. I am so excited by the possibility of going to seminary to learn more about God’s Word and my beliefs, in order to help others do the same.  Thank you sincerely for your time and consideration of my application.

It All Started with a Fruity Chicken Salad

Yet another decision made by the seat of my pants. I am not immune to the creature-of-habit-habit, but I am highly adaptable and pretty easily persuaded. I went to Chic-fil-a for the 3rd time this week for lunch (not addicted, rather working with limited options) and ordered the new chicken market salad, as suggested by Jackie. It’s phenomenal. I'm certainly glad she chose to mention it to me today. New is exciting, when it is not busy being terrifying. But I digress.

 

The seat-of-the-pants decision was not about the salad so much as the blog. I am a slightly schizophrenic mother of two working full time in a church. My husband is also married to a nice quaint little jazzy Sicilian-American spot in the suburb of Chester, VA called Sapori. We both work, A LOT. Our hours are inverse, so we don’t see much of each other during the week. I have decided to busy myself with ALL KINDS of projects since taking this job (we used to work together at the restaurant).

When I say all kinds, I really mean ALL Kinds. Now soccer practice keeps us busy on Tuesday nights and AWANA at church on Wednesday night, but that leaves Monday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights to find work for my idle hands. I have been the social media mouthpiece for the restaurant, trying to keep up with the foodies in Richmond, VA to squeeze in pithy and relevant tweets to grab their attention. (It worked, but that’s another post). I sell Premier Designs Jewelry, and I love it. Briefly addicted to Pinterest and Polyvore, I developed this neat little obsession with creating outfits on Photoshop to wear with my jewelry useful for creating a fun social media presence. I was really diligent with that, for about 2 weeks. Then I decided I wanted to stay busy other ways, ways that were more tangible, so I started my daughter's first year scrapbook (she's almost 3). I am still a bit more than halfway done with that project. Next up: quilting; I have finished about 5 squares, just about 20 more to go for a baby blanket. There is also the sewing machine I procured from my Mawmaw. A few YouTube tutorials in, I am still determined to get past stitching a straight line hem.

I keep getting distracted by the constant reminder of what I should be doing: reading my bible. Every good Christian should read their bible. Now, I genuinely WANT to read my bible, I do. But I'm just so...busy. My son Noah is 5 years old and getting ready to start Kindergarten. I am NOT ready for this, how did we get here so quickly? Not ok with me, but apparently time doesn’t care what I think (although it should). This means that he is going out there in the real world, where most people don’t pray or even know their bible stories. I am terrified that somehow teachers and other children will un-teach him everything I have worked so hard to teach him. Perhaps God is allowing me to tone up my saggy trust muscles this year.

This revelation about my son (and all Christians) growing up in our worldly culture that is overtly antagonistic toward religion makes me wonder, have I done a good job to prepare in my son a foundation of understanding about Jesus and his teachings? How much did we read the bible, and how much did he comprehend? How much do I comprehend, for that matter? Meanwhile, back at the church, bright neon papers were cropping up everywhere indicating that WE NEED A 4 YEAR OLD CLASS TEACHER! Well aware that I have little patience for my own 4 year old (now he is 5, but at the time he was 4), much less a room full of them, I did what logically comes next: momentarily lost my mind and decided to teach the 4 year old class in Sunday School. Lo and behold, God used it to bless the heck out of me. I love those kids like they are my own, I miss them when I don’t see them, and I am so proud of them for their strides in comprehension and retention of the information we painstakingly present to them.

Fast forward a few months and I start wanting to read scripture more and more. I can’t seem to get enough. I want to be talking to someone and have a relevant verse pop into my head. I want to be able to discuss calmly and confidently my beliefs with an atheist, a stranger, and eventually close friends and family members (a lot more at stake there) who need to hear the word of God and value it enough to determine their own faith journey. So, I began to co-teach my adult Sunday school class and apply for seminary. When I do things, I really do them.

So here I am blogging about it all over a fruity chicken salad. I hope I keep this up, its fun. I hope I don’t stop in the middle of this project. We shall see.