Living the Life You Have

In what will probably be news to no one, my Lenten lights-out-at-sunset fast was more or less a failure. I say “more or less” because I don’t actually consider it a flat-out failure. The whole point was to try and organize my life so that I would have some time for prayer and silence. When it became clear that turning the lights out at sunset was going to be impossible, I started saying the Daily Office instead. It’s perfect, really. Taking a bit of time three times a day fits into the rhythm of our days. Actually, it’s helped to shore up the rhythm of our days, giving them more stability and more peace.

I was so captivated by Jen’s idea of hard stops that I tried really hard to make the lights-out thing work. I wanted it to work. I wanted to go back to an earlier understanding of a day’s work, before electric lights and television screwed up our circadian rhythms. I wanted to live in a simpler way, where the day ended after dinner and there would be peace and rest and I would sew by candlelight while the Ogre took out his fiddle and danced a jig in the middle of our log cabin in the Big Woods.

But that’s not our life. It isn’t who we are. Maybe it would have been who we were, if we had lived in the 1800′s, but I doubt it. I can’t imagine the Ogre fiddling or dancing jigs no matter when he lived, and he has to work at night anyway, so he was almost never home after lights-out. As for me sewing, well, let’s not go back there.

For the first few weeks of Lent, I couldn’t figure out what prairie mothers did with their unruly, schedule-defying babies. Lincoln picked the beginning of Lent to stop sleeping after dinner, naturally. And while he was awake, he was still tired and fussy, and he wanted to be held and rocked for hours. But he won’t nurse or lay his head down unless I have both hands on him. If I try to hold a book with one hand, he turns over and hits the book and cries until I put it down. So I was spending hours each evening rocking the baby by candlelight, staring at the covers of all the books I was longing to read, trying to pray, trying not to drift of to sleep in fear of dropping the baby, trying to write blog posts in my head and commit them to memory, all the while growing increasingly frustrated with everything, but mostly Lincoln.

Finally one night, I gave up and put on a movie. Lincoln was asleep enough to move to his crib fifteen minutes in. I’m guessing that all the frustration and tension I felt as I rocked him endlessly with nothing to focus on but how much I wished he would just sleep already was palpable. Once my mind was engaged elsewhere, I relaxed, he relaxed, and he slept.

The thing about hard stops is that we all have them. They’ve changed dramatically in the last hundred years, but they’re still there. And they’re different for different people and in different stages of life. Right now, my hardest stop is called Lincoln. I can’t get the floor mopped and the bathroom cleaned in the amount of time I think it should take if he wakes up and wants to be fed, changed, held, or even just looked at. And while I probably could organize my day so that the housework was done and the kids had played outside and been bathed before dinner, that would leave me no time for writing. I don’t write well at night because I’m tired. The reality is, it’s more important for me to write in the afternoon while the kids are napping and then do the housework after dinner. It isn’t ideal and I wish there was a better solution, but for now, that’s the best way to organize my days.

I came across a boxed set of the Anne of Green Gables novels in our garage the other day and have been reading my favorites. Last night, I found myself thinking longingly of how wonderful it would have been to have been raising children at Ingleside in the early 1900′s. I mean, I could just send them to play in Rainbow Valley and not have to worry that they would get eaten by alligators or bit by snakes or hit by a car or kidnapped by child traffickers! I could hang out on the verandah and read or quilt or gossip with my neighbors while Susan took care of dinner! I could run out the door to go visit someone and know that my kids would be safe in the capable hands of our live-in cook/housekeeper! But most of all, it would be such an exquisite relief to raise children in a world where I could be reasonably sure that my neighbors were teaching their kids more or less the same things that I was teaching mine.  A world where I didn’t have to be constantly wary, constantly worried that at the age of seven, Sienna would be exposed to porn or attempts to sexualize her or even just a too-extensive rundown of the facts of life from another kid.  A world where those big moral dilemmas weren’t so pervasive, where I didn’t have to agonize about how to handle them while watching the years slip by and knowing that I’d have to figure it out soon. A world with an objective morality left in it.

It occurred to me this morning, though, that it’s worse than counter-productive to spend time longing for days gone by. It’s detrimental to the days that are here. Our world will never again be what it once was. There are real advantages to living in this time. Vaccines, antibiotics, dishwashers, washing machines, Doctor Who. There are also real disadvantages. We’ve traded the constant fear of physical death from any number of rampant diseases for the constant fear of spiritual death from any number of rampant socially-acceptable sins.

But the thing is, this is the time that I was meant to live in. For whatever reason, I had to be born in 1984 and raising children at the turn of the millenium. It isn’t like God is surprised at the state of the world right now. He knew it was coming, and he put me here because he thought I could handle it. Spending all my time lamenting the state of the world today doesn’t do anyone any good. This is my world, the only one I will ever know. The world of 1910 might seem idyllic from 2013, but I imagine that I’d find it somewhat less than perfect if I actually lived in it.

Neither will it do anyone any good to shut myself off from the world, to isolate my kids and try and form a little commune of The World As Calah Would Like It To Be. Trying to force my life to fit the pattern of the life of a homemaker in 1800 was a patent failure. The few rewards were grossly outnumbered by overwhelming frustration and defeat. I’d imagine it would be doubly disastrous to try and raise my kids in a make-believe world that denies the reality of the one that’s actually turning beneath my feet and beyond my doors. Is it a frightening world? Sure, parts of it are. But there’s still wonder in it, and magic and goodness. Shutting out all the bad parts of our world would shut out all the good parts, too. Better to just let the daylight shine on all of it and make sure I am there to hold hands, answer questions, and tell the hard truth when I have to.

 

  • http://smacdo03.blogspot.com Sarah in Ottawa

    What a great entry, Calah.

    I adore the Anne series, and often re-read them. As I was reading this, I couldn’t help but think about another of Anne’s eventual realities — while the kids played in Rainbow Valley when young, so many of them went off to war. It is astounding that Jem and Gerry survived at all, as the fatality rates for Canadians who signed up in 1914 were over 90%. No era is a picnic, just as you’ve astutely pointed out.

  • Elizabeth

    Calah, beautiful post – I especially loved “We’ve traded the constant fear of physical death from any number of rampant diseases for the constant fear of spiritual death from any number of rampant socially-acceptable sins.”, as that is exactly how I feel as a mother.

    I highly recommend the Journals of LM Montgomery – five volumes from age 15 to her death in her early 60s. Excellent reading, and fascinating as she lived through the major technological changes. Also, the descriptions of what she had to learn in a one-room schoolhouse in the 1880s are really eye-opening when you consider how ignorant and brainwashed so many public school grads are nowadays.

  • http://diabeticbirth.blogspot.com Beth T.

    Great words. I have recently spent a lot of time thinking about how to prepare my kids to live in this world now, rather than trying to re-make it into something it used to be. It’s a little frightening, but you’re right that God made us and our children for this time, this place, and He gives us all the clarity we need to see rightly.

  • http://therhodeslog.blogspot.com Kate

    I loved reading this.

    Recently I’ve been living the first trimester misery part of life and trying to live it in a way that doesn’t make me hate myself for watching so much bad TV and letting dishes sit for days. It’s hard not to fight the life you have, especially certain episodes in that life.

    • http://www.oursometimesstories.blogspot.com Mariana

      Agreed!!

  • http://grace-filled.net jen

    For some odd reason, the words of the Rolling Stones song “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” came into my head…

    “You can’t always get what you want… you get what you need.”

  • Lily

    *sees Calah’s birth year*
    *does math far slowly-er than is socially acceptable*
    *stares at computer screen in awe*
    You seem so much wiser than our small age gap would suggest.

  • Tiff

    Indoor plumbing, central heat/air, and pizza delivery are some other advantages to living in this era. =)

  • Tom

    I was reading the other day, and I came across an interesting line. “In these times, obsequiousness brings friendship, but the truth brings hate.”

    The only problem was this was from Terence, who died 150 years before the birth of Christ. The translator (writing in the 1920′s) couldn’t resist adding in a footnote that this was, “a very common phrase, in all ages.”

  • http://shinyhappycatholics.blogspot.com Martha

    I feel you. All I want to do is live with Anne-girl on PEI – especially considering I went there for my honeymoon and it feels about the same as it did when LM was writing.
    If you ever change your mind about accepting what God is calling you to, I’d be more than happy to join you in giving the modern world the middle finger and living on a commune in PEI. I can’t sew either, but we could learn, right!?

  • Brigitte

    Well put. My children are raised, the last one graduating from college in a few weeks! We homeschooled and did not have tv when they were small. But we were hardly living a secluded or otherwise unusual life…active in church, scouts, our lake community, and so forth. But doing those two things really did extend their childhoods and I will never regret it. What I am saying is that you can definitely mitigate some of the effects of current society without living In a hole somewhere. ….


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