Mary.

Merry Christmas!

I hope your celebration this year has been all that you hoped for and more with constant reminders of the Reason for the season.  And I guess that's what this post will be about, though perhaps from a different angle than you've previously considered.

Do you have a favorite Christmas carol?  Mine are:

1. What Child is this?  
2. Mary, Did You Know?
3. I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

The first two always make me think of Mary, a woman who has forever intrigued me - a young woman who is more esteemed and more mysterious than perhaps any other female in history.  So little is said of her in the Bible, and so often I have wondered about her.  One of my favorite passages of Scripture is Proverbs 31 - I even get the name of this blog from that passage - which describes a woman of noble character.  I feel like I know that woman - I know how she respects her husband, how she labors day and night to care for her family, how she nurtures her children so they arise and call her blessed, how she cares for her household and those in need around her.  We are given a glimpse of who she is - and though it is only 1 chapter, I feel like I know her.  I want to be her.

But what about Mary?  Word for word, I think (though I didn't do an exhaustive count) Mary is talked about more in the Bible than my Proverbs 31 woman whom I claim to know.  But who was Mary?  I want to pretend to be her best friend for a minute and ask a few questions...

Mary, I have something to tell you!  Ok, ok, you go first!  WHAT!?!?!?  You're pregnant?!?  But you haven't... No.  I didn't think so.  Then how?  Really?!?  Really.  Oh.  An angel?  Uh-huh.  Ok, I guess I trust you - I have known you forever and you're not one to lie.  Have you told your family?  How did they take it?  Have you told Joseph?  Well, we'll just have to see how things play out.  I'm sure Joseph will handle the situation in an honorable way, I mean, he is a good man.  Oh my - it's so overwhelming!  The reality is we can't solve all those problems now - what's that?  Oh!  I can't even remember what I was going to tell you!  But I have more questions...

So tell me about being pregnant!  What's it like?  Have you had morning sickness?  Even when bearing the "Son of God!?!"?  Wow.  So what about sleep?  I hear pregnant women complaining about getting up in the night to use the "facilities" - do you?  Have you talked to a midwife?  Are you exhausted?  Have you felt baby kick?  Does the baby keep you up at night with wiggling and kicking?  Are you sure it's a boy?  Can you really be sure?  Do you feel alone?  Are you feeling calm or anxious or a little of both?

[A few months later]  So you're nearing full term now.  Have you had any scares - a fall, bleeding, early contractions?  Any braxton hicks?  Does baby hiccough a lot?  Catch me up on your life - where will you deliver?  WHAT?!?!  Joseph is taking you WHERE?!?  Doesn't he know that you'll be about ready to have that baby?  What does he think, that you can just birth a child anywhere?  Well, I guess the worst that could happen is to have the baby along the side of the road in some little shack or cave or barn, Ha!  What are the odds of that happening!?!  Are you upset that you're going to travel - too bad the midwife won't forbid the travel this late.  Who would help you if you go into labor so far away from home and family?  I wish I could go with, but I have to be counted elsewhere...

I mean, can you imagine what it would be like to be her best friend?

It sounds so gentle, "she brought forther her firstborn son."  Not so I'd wager.  I bet it was just like God said in Genesis - painful.  After my first was born, I needed help from professionals, some time to recap the events with my husband, to blog and share with the world my newest, most valuable treasure.  I needed rest, peace, and encouragement as I embarked upon this new, exciting, terrifying journey called motherhood.  I wonder, what about Mary...

What did she think when a band of stinky shepherds came to see her baby in a manger?  Was she proud to show him off?  Insecure about where she had him (in a stable, with nothing better than a manger for a bed, but then, the shepherds wouldn't think less of her for that, would they, that she didn't have the latest Caesar-Augustus-safety-approved cradle)?  Did she wonder why these riff-raff were there?  Did they ask to hold Him?  Did she make them "Purell" their hands?  Did they ask about how her labor went?  Did they leave in a timely fashion so she could feed Him and get some much-needed rest?  Who was there to shoo them away?  Nurses?  Her mom? Her grandmother? And how soon did she get to/have to leave that stable?  Traveling is NOT pleasant after giving birth, but maybe she got moved into a room in the inn?  Would someone have taken pity on them or have fallen in love with Jesus's adorable newborn baby-ness and let the new little family have a room?

Arrrggghhh!  The questions I would ask if I had Mary's ear for a few minutes!  But alas I don't.  And I don't get to ask her about raising the perfect Son either.  She was the mother of the Savior, and yet I get no parenting advice from her.  (Wouldn't you hate to compare your kid to hers - Jesus, literally the perfect child, compared to *insert your child's name here*?)

But then, I suppose that these unanswered questions are intentional.  You see, if the story included much more about Mary, I would be tempted to focus my attentions on her.  But important as this blessed woman is to the holiday, she is not the reason for the holiday nor the one who ought to be studied.

Instead, on this day, Christmas, we honor and remember and worship the Christ, the Son of the Living God. What a privilege it is to know Him, to know that He knows me, that He calls me by name and claims me as His own.  Mary is only valuable as an individual to study in so much as she points us to the Savior.

Perhaps someday I'll get to bend Mary's ear for a minute or two over some cup filled with a Heavenly nectar as we stroll the streets of gold, but for now and for always my focus must be on the One who I can know, the One who has shared with me His character, the One who deserves my honor, respect, submission, my all.

So although 2 out of 3 of my favorite Christmas carols make me think of Mary, I'm reminded this day, yet again, that my focus must be on Jesus.  May those carols henceforth point me from Mary directly to the Christ child.

Merry Christmas, dear reader, and Happy Birthday, Jesus.

The ideal woman

Last week I went to a girlfriend's house for some quality girl time.  Over wine, spiffy cheese, good chocolate and homemade cookies, we solved the world's problems - or at least aired our thoughts on husbands, children, and life.  What else would mommies do when we finally make time to get together?

We spent the evening in a fantastic manner - not bashing husbands or whining about children or lamenting life, but rather sharing our experiences and uplifting one another with positive conversation.  At least that's the way I felt as I drove home: uplifted.

The conversation got me thinking about Plato's Theory of the Forms.  It's been a very long time since I've actually studied any Plato or Aristotle or Socrates or any of those really old guys, but what I remember about the Forms (which might be completely wrong) is the following:  

Let's take a chair for example.  We all know what a chair is. It's a reliable place where one sits.  But what is "chair?"  Does it have 4 legs or 3?  Could it have 5 legs or 10?  Does the seat have to be flat or can it be curved?  Is it cushioned?  What kind of fabric is "chair?"  Or maybe it's not fabric, maybe it's wood, or plastic, or metal, or some other material.  So what is "chair?"  Chair, as a Form, is a definite thing that exists only in theory.  There is, in fact, no one perfect chair by which we measure all chairs.  Instead we have the idea or theory of chair that we then apply, in a variety of ways, in real life.

Why, you may wonder, would a girl's night over wine and chocolate get me thinking about chairs?  It is true that I sat in a chair during the evening, but it was the Form that really had me thinking.  There were 5 of us that sat for nearly 4 hours and discussed many of the facets of life and womanhood.  As I drove the 20 miles home, alone on a 2-lane highway in what most would call "the middle of nowhere," I thought about that word, "woman."  What does that mean?

Each of us has in our minds the Form of  "woman," the idea of what the perfect woman looks like.  And each of us holds up our life against the Form of woman that lives in each of our heads.  I did this as I drove home, and you know what I found?  I found that I fall miserably, inescapably, insurmountably short.

My dishes are never caught up (and even if they are there is always that one cup that was hiding in the living room behind the lamp... How do I miss it every time?), my clean-but-unfolded laundry pile swells like a marshmallow cooking in the microwave, the supplies I buy for projects I intend to do collect in my basement, I never seem to have enough time to write those thank yous that are months overdue to be sent (when has enough time passed that I can just "write them off" my to do list? [no pun intended]), and why don't I have enough time to really invest in all the relationships I want to invest in?  *sigh*

I decided on my drive that I needed 4 of me - one to care for the house and do projects, one to raise my kids and meal plan/cook nutritious meals, one to work and manage the finances, and one to simply have relationship with the people I love and to read.  Wouldn't that be great?!?

But alas, that is my dream, and the Form of woman in my head does all those things, but she is one woman.  I'll never achieve it.  Why do I hold myself to the standard of the Form of woman that I have in my head?  I know it's unattainable!  And yet...

And yet, I have that Form of woman in my head, and she is good.  Daily I have to come to grips with the reality that I cannot, will not, will never be her.  But she pushes me, taunts me, drives me to be a better version of me.  The danger of the picture of female perfection is that she could either drive me to madness or to despair.  Despair that I will never be her, so why try; and madness in trying in every facet of life to be her and yet failing at every point.  And somewhere between madness and despair lies the balance, the middle ground, the sweet spot of motivation to be a better me and still contentment in who I am in the Lord.  

Does that ever really happen?  As we savored the final drops from our wine glasses and prepared to let the evening together end, we discussed the horrible lie of "balance."  We tell ourselves "I can find the balance in all of these things I'm doing."  But I'm convinced that balance, like the Form of woman, doesn't exist in real life.  

Instead of finding a positive balance for all the facets of my life, I feel instead like I'm merely keeping disaster at bay.  I have to let the dirty dishes sit in the sink so that I can have time to have real, quality relationship with my husband and daughter or do my personal quiet time, but if I let the dishes pile too much or the laundry overflow out of my bulging bedroom door, then I don't feel comfortable enough to have people into my home to enjoy relationship with friends and family.  It's not a balance - it's maintaining just enough to keep total deterioration at bay.  

Am I making sense?  Maybe you have it all together.  But if you say you do, I simply think you're lying.  Those women (sometimes I'm her) who bring fresh baked goodies to every party and still have clean counters/sinks - they have to have dirty mixing bowls hiding in their ovens, right?  And the women (sometimes I'm her, too) whose homes are spotless (ok, maybe I'm never her...) can't possibly keep them that way for more than the 30 minutes I'm in their home, can they?  And if they have a family and/or a job and/or anything of a social life, they "sometimes" (for months on end) miss their quiet time too, don't they? 

The reality, I think, is that I have around me amazing women who inspire me, who encourage me, who motivate me.  And I think that the Form of woman I have in my head comes from gathering the very best bits and pieces from each of the women around me - the great qualities, the impressive habits, the positive traits - and assembling them together into the woman in my head who doesn't exist in real life.  

If you are a woman with whom I interact on a regular basis, know that you are having an effect on me, and I suspect I am on you too (I hope for good and not ill).  When you see me walk into a church function with freshly baked cookies, know that either my sink (or if I have to hide the dishes, my oven) is full of dirty mixing bowls and measuring cups.  Or if you see a project I did recently, know that my living room was a disaster for a week while I scrambled to finish the project in the late evenings and through nap times often instead of doing my quiet time.  (Yes, I feel guilty about it.  Please don't chastise me or tell me I can do better - I know I can.  And I will.)  

I'm not perfect.  I'm no where near the Form of woman I have in my head.  But maybe you've learned something from me like I've learned something from you.  The Form of woman you have in your head, I'm sure, has similarities to mine, but I'm just as sure, has differences.  That's the great thing about the Forms.  Just like there is no one chair by which we measure all chairs, there is no one woman by which we measure all women.  We each have the privilege of being simply and only who we are and pursuing the unique Form of woman that we admire. I get to pursue being the unique form of woman who will be the best form of me.

And you know what else is great?  Because my "perfect woman" exists only in my head in my unique Form of woman, you will never know how close or far I am from being her.  That gives me freedom - freedom to hold myself up to her, evaluate what to work on, and then live confidently as who I am, aware of but not hindered by my shortcomings, and motivated to remedy them.  

So here's to wine, and chocolate, and women, and forms.  What a privilege it is to be a woman.