The key to being the mother of an introvert

The last week has been a long ride on the kindergarten roller coaster.  The strut in my step at the start of the year has turned into a stagger.  God blessed this extreme extrovert with an introverted first born.  He must have been the cool sort of introvert in preschool, because other kids befriended him.  But now we’ve graduated to kindergarten, an entirely new group of kids, and daily reports of sitting alone on a bench at recess.  It breaks my heart and perplexes my brain…..I was a ringleader throughout elementary school, organizing sleepovers and directing the reenactment of the final dance scene in Dirty Dancing at recess.  For the life of me, I can’t figure out WHY my beloved child can’t ask another kid to play!  

I finally realized I need to stop asking why, and thank God for this perfectly sweet introverted child.  He is exactly the boy that God created him to be!  Psalm 139:14 reminds us to give thanks to God because we are fearfully and wonderfully made.  God didn’t make a mistake when he made Kenny, or when he made me Kenny’s mom.  (And I have a strong hunch it’s for my sweet party planning abilities:-).  

It also helps to realize the strengths that lie in my son’s introverted personality type.  If his Lego building abilities are any indicator, he’s going to be an awesome engineer someday!  And if he turns out half as tenderhearted as his introverted daddy, he’ll make some woman a great husband.  In the meantime, I’ll put my extroverted personality into overdrive and set up play dates like nobody’s business.  He’ll be hosting slumber parties and directing Dirty Dancing reenactments in no time.

Finding My BEST Yes

Have you ever had a decision, big or small, that you wrestled with to the point of exhaustion?  Just a year ago, I would have answered “No” to this question.  But I’ve recently seen the value of operating within God’s will for my life rather than my own (yes, it only took 37.5 yearsJ).  It was a long path that led me here.  Exposure to the ideas that each of us has a personality type (think Myers Briggs), each of us has a specific set of God-given gifts, and Lysa Terkeurst’s newest book “The Best Yes” created a perfect storm over that last week.  The storm swirled over a tough decision before lifting and leaving me with an ‘aha’ moment.   

After wrestling with a mid-size decision for over a week, this aha moment was welcomed like a cup of coffee on Monday morning.  I had the opportunity over the summer to donate half my closet to Burmese refugees in the Denver area.  Recently, an opportunity arose to teach English to these same refugees.  And this is when my internal wrestling match began.  What Christ-seeking woman wouldn’t help Burmese refugees twice a month?  It was certainly a worthwhile cause.  I have the time to do it.  So I started talking to God about it, asking for some sort of confirmation that this assignment was for me.  I was praying for the burning bush sort of sign, or maybe just a billboard along the highway, but God seemed to be pretty tight-lipped on this subject.  

I was to the point of jumping in (feet first--I’m not totally crazy), when I sought the counsel of a wise friend.  She is into understanding people’s personality types like I’m into eating chocolate, or watching Project Runway.  (I love people who can give me the cliff notes on important subjects while I spend my time with the more trivial matters of the world-Ha!)  This wise friend reminded me that my personality type likes to “get it done”.  So it could be my personality, rather than God, that was pushing me to fulfill this need for the refugees.  

Once my perspective shifted in this way, I thought through the gifts God has given me:  administration, encouragement, and faith.  These gifts didn’t align with the refugee task.  The final bolt of lightning was recalling “The Best Yes” book that I’m currently reading.  Saying yes to this task would leave me feeling stressed out and probably dreading the days I was scheduled to volunteer.  I would undoubtedly be short with my family.  Fulfilling this role was not worth the price it would cost me and my family.  

My decision was finally made and the weight lifted off my heart immediately.  God wasn’t calling me to work with the refugees.  I needed to say no in order to remain free to say yes to something else.  Something that would align me with God’s current, multiplying my time and gifts in ways that could have a bigger impact than the impact I could have relying on my own strength.  Now if only I would think to implement this approach a little earlier next time!  

Are you interested in learning more about your personality type and God-given gifts?  Use these links to take free assessments for each. 

Personality test (10 minutes):  http://www.16personalities.com/free-personality-test

Spiritual gifts assessment (20 minutes):  http://www.spiritualgiftstest.com/test/adult

When life seems less than nostalgic....

The arrival of fall and the start of school have triggered all sorts of nostalgic Facebook posts reminding us of how quickly kids grow up.  One recent post had the number of years in each childhood stage (baby-1 year, toddler- 2 years, preschooler-2 years, etc.).  Is this supposed to make us wish for time to standstill?  If so, I must be the worst mom on the planet, because I find myself reading these posts and hooting and hollering that we’ve made it this far.  Thank the goodness I’m not still in that infant stage.  And I’m even more thankful that we’ve put potty training behind us.  I have quite a few notches in my mommy belt, and I can’t say that I’d be overly excited to relive any one of them!  

And just when I think we’re on track, someone reverts, especially when it comes to sleeping.  I had an uninterrupted night’s sleep for the first time in months last night.  This is completely pitiful when considering I have a 5 year old and two 3.5 year olds!  But they take turns, or sometimes tag team to “check” on me at night.  Arriving inches away from my face in the dark of night, touching my arm to make sure I’m breathing, and then retreating to their bed after they’ve gained my attention.  They are so sweet to be concerned with my well-being.  I can’t wait until I have the opportunity to return the favor.  Just think of the fun I’ll have during the teenage years!  

I know that time flies.  I mostly enjoy each stage, living in the moment.  And maybe someday I’ll look back on this time in my life with misty-eyed nostalgia.  But I think I’m more likely to get a good laugh at the expense of all those parents, hanging on by a thread.  And respond like my Grandparents (who raised twins) when we told them we were expecting twins.  Both laughing hysterically, with tears in their eyes responding, “We wouldn’t want to do that again!”

What's in a name?

What’s in a name?  That’s what I’ve been asking myself this week.  My husband dropped the “h” (as in homemaker) word a few days ago, which has me feeling a little too much like June Beaver!  Seriously….who uses that word?  I’m totally into being called mom, stay-at-home-mom, wife, take your pick!  But homemaker?  Now mind you, he used the word in a complimentary way, so why was my first reaction to take offense?  It could be the timing.  It was just after dinner, and I was up to my elbows in soap suds with bits of ingredients decorating my shirt like a bad bedazzling job.  And I love being called mommy…90% of the time.  When my oldest was a baby, I dreamed of the day he could utter the word I’d been longing to hear through pregnancy and infancy.  Now there are times I cringe at the “m” word, especially when used in the middle of the night or in conjunction with the bathroom.

So am I having an identity crisis?  Do I need to post a list of acceptable words used to address me?  I’ve come to the conclusion that this is a battle I need to wage within myself.  God created me perfectly and knows me inside and out.  I must rest in the knowledge that I am the woman He created me to be, whether that’s designing factories as an engineer or wiping bottoms and cooking meals as a homemaker.  These titles all fall under the umbrella of “Sarah, child of God”.  This realization lets my husband and everyone else off the hook.  Despite how people label me, I have already labeled myself with the most authentic name of all. 

After writing this post, I realized that I've had my name posted in my kitchen, thanks to some great co-workers who mailed me my nameplate after I resigned and moved cross-country to take on motherhood full-time.  This is where it all happens....coffee and wine are plentiful amidst the endless whining:-)