Thursday, October 7, 2010

Wired

Wired.

I'm wired. Purposed. Planned.

I believe that what we're wired for is where we excel. I've come to believe that sometimes we're purposed for some things for a period and others for a lifetime.

As a child, I was a nerd. Honest to goodness, teacher had to come and touch my shoulder to get my attention while I was reading kind of nerd. Bookish. Quiet. I excelled in school. I was a decent big sister, the kind who always looked out for her little brother, the one who brought him along to friends homes and played Barbie meets GI Joe/Transformers/Skeletor as his whim dictated; I used constructs more than my Strawberry Shortcake dolls. I also once fed him a dandelion, but that's another story. I excelled.

As a teen, I was still completely type A when it came to school. However, I found that a great group of church friends makes a girl bloom, the gift for which I will forever be thankful. I played soccer, ran track, sang in the church and school choirs, took up dance, sang in a musical, and fell in love. I was intensely competitive and social, linked to others while growing and exploring who it was I was being purposed into...

In college, I majored in english and minored in psychology. I worked with kids, special needs students, and photography (not all at the same time). I pushed and learned my limits. Still bookish, wired for perfection, set to be "on". All part of the plan.

I married my high school/college love. We moved 900 miles from our hometown for a new job and in short order we had a baby girl. Not planned or expected, but rejoiced over. Our eldest entered our world full of vigor and life and spirit and kept me on my toes from day one. Perfection went out the window. Patience learned while working with students came into play. The lens of my life had changed, and I chose to be molded along with the tide. Becoming a mother was a quick, wild ride, and I wasn't sure I would be good at it. I was used to excelling at things, and I was afraid at this I might fail miserably. Would I break her? Could I avoid making her like me? I wanted my sweet babe to be carefree...not so adult and not so difficult on herself. But, from the moment she was placed in my arms, I knew.

Wired. Purposed. Planned.

Our firstborn was not an easy baby. She had reflux and she didn't grow quickly. She screamed nine of the twelve hours we were awake together for her first nine months. When my mom asked me how I was able to stand it, I replied, "She's a baby, she can't help it." I didn't know any differently, so for me, this was how babies were. Our big grew, showed her tenacity and wit...I wasn't sure how I'd keep up with her. She was full of life and adventure and because of her I made friends in a new part of the country; I wouldn't have done it on my own. Our girl taught me that I was self-reliant and that she wouldn't break and I couldn't break her...that she was her own person and I couldn't make her anything. I was given an oportunity to lead, guide, nurture, set boundries, and love. But make? That wasn't up to me.

Four years later we moved again, back to our roots. The husband started graduate school and I set to figuring out how to be an adult with a child surrounded by a bunch of college students. We lived in an international community, had exchanged a home and yard and dog for tight grad quarters, and our now kid was praying for a sibling. I, too, was missing the feeling of a baby in my arms, the soft skin, coos and sweet smell all mixing together into that luscious heaven that is infanthood. We proceeded cautiously, and Little Bit arrived just over a year later. Bliss. She was sweet and small and oh so pink. I was in heaven. With the Big, I'd learned that babies can't be broken and it's impossible to love or hold them too much. Purposed.

With two girls and a tight budget, I took on a job. I helped begin and then ran a small company that grew and flourished. I learned that I was skilled at things other than being a wife and mother. However, working eighty plus hours a week with a five and one year old wasn't all it was cracked up to be...I was still stay-at-home, but how still was I? How much did I have left to give to the little people that played quietly, stacked blocks and read books while I worked the phone and spent endless hours packing orders?

Sometimes, you just know. You realize it all in a glorious instant that in Hollywood would shine with thousand watt bulbs popping in your eyes. You know. IT.

IT...that thing for which your are uniquely and gloriously wired. Purposed. Planned. I knew.

My IT? Motherhood.

2 comments:

  1. Shan, you've never put words together better. Or said words more true.

    I felt your heart and your love in every one of them, and see in you daily that you are living out your calling. As a wife and a mother and a friend. Most importantly, as His child.

    Higher than the sky, sweet girl.

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  2. Deeper than the sea, my friend. Looks like that english degree really has come to good use; didn't realize it would be in such a manner.

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