I am not being an awesome mom during the COVID-19 pandemic and subsequent quarantine. There's been no extra crafting, Pintrest hasn't seen my face in who knows when, and we aren't doing any of those awesome scavenger hunts or online art classes. Do I feel guilty about this? Of course! Does that mean any of that will change? Probably not. Why not?

Because, normalcy.

Routine. Stability. Boring old run-of-the-mill day to day mundane activities. Perform, sleep, repeat.

A little background.

As a kid my life was full of abundance. Of siblings. Of church attendance (going to a Friday night Bible study was the thing to do). And an abundance of moves, and not usually the one-block over kind. We're talking new city, new church, new people, new everything, Because I was homeschooled I was not constantly adjusting to a different set of teachers or school friends, but boy did I run the gamut of Sunday School leaders and church peers. With all that moving came a lot of uncertainty. And so I gravitated to the things that were constant in my life. My parents. My siblings. My faith. And after the recent loss of my grandmother, I realized even more her role as a touch point in my life, a rock of certainty and security. Little things like how the tater tots were always served in the same melamine bowl, or the fact that we always watched Matlock and Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy! were small rhythms that meant a lot to this highly emotive, introspective, at times umoored young girl.

In seventh grade, after a particularly rough move away from my best friend and into the frozen wasteland of a lake-side cabin in rural Alabama ( I promise is wasn't nearly as charming or idyllic as that sounds. It was November, it was cold, we were all lonely and miserable) I was tasked with writing an essay every day in school. I wrote a lot of ridiculous, angsty things that have since found their way to the trash can, but a few of those essays stuck around, particularly the two I wrote about my grandmother, about how I loved visiting her and the security I felt at her house. I mailed those two essays to her a couple of years ago as a thank you for what she meant to me. Before she died she made sure those essays were put back in my hands. Up to this point, I still haven't found the courage to read them. It's just a little too soon.

So because of the instability of certain aspects of my childhood, and the firm example of the goodness of sameness, I guess I've been coming to this point of cultivating routine for all of my life. I joke about being boring on purpose, but maybe there is something to that. I want my kids to generally know what to expect in their day-to-day life. To know that Jesus is the Lord of our life, that I love their dad and he loves me, and that dinner will be eaten together. 

But here's the flip side of that. I'm a follower of Jesus. And I wasn't called to mediocrity.  I was called to a cross. Every day is meant to be a death to myself as a sacrifice to God in the form of love and service to others. So are my daily, mundane offering to Him repulsive and putrid? Shouldn't I be doing more?

No. And yes. And no again.

No, because it isn't the doing that makes Him pleased with me. It's what He's done.

Yes, because He's glorious and magnificent and kind and good and worthy to be the object of every ounce of effort of everything I do.

And no, again, because the things I do already, I'm doing for Him. From the outside it looks like I'm homeschooling kids and cleaning a house and loving my husband, but it looks like that because that's what I'm called to. It doesn't look that way for everyone. God gifts His children with a variety of marvelous gifts that all work to glorify Him, for He is worthy. My gifting, at this point, is domestic, and mundane.

So at this point in the quarantine, it's pretty much business as usual. A few things are different. Due to warmer weather, we are taking more walks. Due to the quarantine, most of those take place in our neighborhood. I'm cooking more meals, and because of  a shortage of processed foods they are even more "whole food" and fresh than usual. I'm trying to be more engaged with my kids, even and especially  after a day of school with them. That's when I remember that I hang out with them not just because I'm their mom and responsible for their basic physical and emotional needs, but also because they are delightful people and it's fun spending time with them!

Maybe you are an awesome quarantine mom. If you are, kudos! Please post some pictures so I can see what fun things you've got going on. If you're more like me and working to safeguard your routine, here's a high five for you, too. You're all wonderful, beautiful people, and I'm so glad to know you. So go on and love your family in the way that God has gifted you best, and do it all for His glory. He is so, so worthy.

Boy Mom

I like spiders. But that hasn't always been true. As a child and young adult I avoided touching anything creepy, crawly, slimey, or scaley. And I didn't have time to stop and admire, much less look at bugs, unless it was to step on them swiftly and strongly. Stomp. Squish. Dead.

I'm not sure exactly when my thoughts and feelings toward insects and spiders began to change, but it was sometime in the last 8 years, after my son was born. As a boy mom I determined not to instill an irrational fear of bugs into my son. So instead of shuddering and stomping, I stooped and observed. To satisfy his curiosity I watched shows and YouTube videos and read books with him that all extolled the wonderful world of bugs. Sure, there was a good mixture of dinosaurs and construction vehicles in there as well, but who has problems with bulldozers or triceratops? I didn't need convincing on those topics. My hang ups were all those creepy legs and disturbingly crunchy shells. We aren't talking tacos here, people. But I persisted in my decision to stay chill on the bug front.

And all those factoids about legs and thoraxes and compound eyes? They began to stick. In my brain. And you know what, I began to truly see the fascinating world of insects and arachnids all around me. God put so much detail into every aspect of His creation, and this was no exception. The design of the body of a honeybee and the social structure of a hive. The fact that there are spiders that have adapted to almost any environment, and many of them don't even live in webs. The persistence, diligence, and bravery of an ant colony. This world of insects and arachnids wasn't just fascinating, it sang. It was a harmonizing strain of  the same song in my heart, the song God put within all of us, that He teaches a little more of everyday. A song of Him, and for Him, and to Him.

So now I like spiders. And insects in general. Don't get me wrong. I can't reconcile myself to the millipedes that have recently invaded my home. Nor do I hesitate to end the life of any species of roach (surely a direct product of the Fall if not direct spawn of Satan.) But for the most part I am so interested in the small but ordered world of bugs. I love to see them crawling around on my herbs and flowers, to observe the different methods of gathering nectar or pollen. To watch the stages of transformation from corpulent caterpillar to lithe and lovely butterfly.

To change is to learn. To learn is to grow. To grow is to understand. To understand is to appreciate.

Go watch a spider, and tell me what you think.