Count our blessings
Photos on the wall
Count our blessings. Something I have long been inspired by, in many different stages of life. As a student in my flat in northern Aberdeen with all my belongings in my bedroom – mostly photos on the wall, a piano next to my bed and my computer at the foot of my bed. As a waitress, as a careworker, living in Edinburgh, with even less, and sharing meals when volunteering at the soup kitchen. And then, married, living our first home.
Getting comfortable with providence
When I had children I began not to wish to live on as little as possible. Whereas it was as though the less I had the more faithful my life would be, now with children I gradually began to hope for prosperity. Plans that once wrestled with the poverty of the world became increasingly driven by a desire for opportunity for my family. Hope. In this country a privilege. In other countries where I had been drawn in, either by empathy or guilt, opportunity is not a potential of the land.
Now well over a decade into parenting I am unashamed in my desire for a life of beauty, providence and Truth for my family. And as we pursue our hopes, dreams, intentions, our doors cannot close, but as our paths collide, not of our own, but continuing the blessing.
All we do, and we still make crazy plans
Now that we homeschool though, are our dreams too much? The life we set up counted on the children attending school at least a few days a week (we did some flexi-schooling). One year ago we committed to full time home education. Now we need to count our blessings. But we didn’t let go of our dreams – we still have our horses, and our dogs and chickens, (and house pets). I still teach piano, play weekly at church with our little band, write songs and learn new pieces. We have an overgrown jungle of a garden we’ve moved into that we are determined to make beautiful and fruitful, and we still have made ideas like cycling the Hebrides, and sailing the Norfolk Broads. Nope, nothing has changed since before we committed to homeschooling, and yet we try and fit it all in.
https://thereisnoshouldbe.com/wild-camping-with-kids/
Don’t ask for more
At a time like this, with so much that we love and are glad of, that we’ve intentionally aimed for, and felt moved towards, it is so important to count our blessings. We must not ask for more, and we are glad for what has been provided.
Another perspective for perspective
But it can be overwhelming. To help when I’m feeling fed up I sometimes like to play mind games with myself. I try and see things from another perspective or an outsider’s point of view. I think to myself, what might this habit look like to a foreigner? Or, how might my ancestors have viewed this decision or lifestyle? I wonder about my Swiss ancestors, and my English ones, with their various dwelling places and occupations – train driver and silversmith occupations. It puts things into perspective to think back to what they relied on for their survival and for their families and communities to thrive.
Remembering, that time of yearning
There is another approach that I like to imagine to help with appreciating our work load. There was always a moment before our children arrived – when we spent 9 nine months and more expecting, before they were born. There was that moment, before we planted our veg patch and sowed all those seeds, when we planned our hopes of produce. There was a point before our dogs arrived, when we planned for each of them.
This moment of hope is a key time to think back on. I think back to this dreaming time. It’s a precious time. It’s a time of intention, hopes, calling. It’s a time for yearning, not just materialistic, but for the kind of lifestyle that we desire. We yearn for goodness and healthy habits. For me, with all the fluffy, athletic creatures I find us surrounded by I yearn for a life with comfort, acceptance and zest for life.
It doesn’t need to be children or animals – it could be anything – a skill, a passion, a pursuit, a place to discover, a profession or occupation to hope to shape your life.
Count our blessings
I think back to these moments of anticipation when we’re finding it hard to count our blessings.
For example, when we were expecting our second child (because I had no idea my life would change expecting my first!) I might have said, “When my child is born I will spend every evening playing music with them. I will cook homemade food even for breakfast. I will get up early and go for a run before frying a fresh, from-scratch batch of pancakes before reading a story or a bible verse to them.”
Indeed with my first child I might have thought, “With all my spare time I might do some missionary work, or learn rock guitar and write songs. I might learn ancient Hebrew and learned how to translate the Bible for myself.”
Being present in the blessing
Why do I inflict these mind games, this kind of make belief upon myself? Does it make me consumed with wanderlust, or discontented with my lot? Does it make me wish for more freedoms that I might have, or disappointed in my lack of child centred culinary skills and fitness regime?
This approach simply draws me in to the blessing of the time I am in. It reminds me of the heart of my intentions. It reminds me of who I am – in the valley it’s often hard to see the view. And it reminds me that to have these beautiful children in my life is not a given. It is a gift. These are people in my life to steward, and to try to be a lamp for God’s Light – for them to learn every day a little more about His love. It helps me root into the decisions we have made, that might otherwise seem quite restrictive and limited. I begin to own the choices we have made, both to do, and the choices not to do.
Content in the mess of reality
But in reality, my life is not at all like my ideal self would have had it. I don’t go for said morning runs – I feel quite accomplished when I’ve had my morning shower and brushed my hair. I don’t make fresh pancakes every morning, with protein rich eggs and the benefits of sourdough ferments (only ever a lunchtime treat). Breakfast tends to involve toast, porridge, muesli, fruits and yogurt, which is a mishmash that doesn’t seem quite as ‘sorted’, but caters for the (less desirable) fussiness which I don’t prefer to contend with first thing in the morning.
When I think back on my original aspirations I find myself remembering that family life is something my former self dreamt of, and hoped for. We can count our blessings. So when I trudge through the porridge pan at the sink after breakfast, I can think, this is the dream.
All that spare time
I never did explore mission work. I haven’t learned electric guitar or written any rock ballads. In this time of parenting, mothering, I trust the plan and try not to want what other people have. The dream is always going to be different than the reality.
Lifting my thoughts to the mountain top of my hopes
We have somewhat of a homestead set up. At least it felt like that as we spent the last 2 years fencing horses, dogs and chickens in, and rabbits and rats out! We adore them, our furry friends (not the rats).
Especially the horses are hard and heavy work. It is time consuming, and time is so very valuable. When I find it exhausting or perhaps just tedious, this is when I go back to my former self – my other quite recent self that didn’t have horses. As I was preparing for the arrival of my own horse I wistfully entered into the process of visualisation, dreaming, hoping, yearning. I thought, “I will get up every morning before anyone else is up and muck them out and feed them their hay. Sometimes I will canter on him up to a high point as the sun is rising, before drawing gently homewards.”
When I think back on that, lifting my thoughts back to the mountain top of my hopes it’s nice to think what my unburdened self said without the overwhelm and the reality of family life as it pulls in all directions. The truth is, early mornings allude me, so I smile a little as I let go of my dreamy supposed reality. But, on the other hand, as I think of these things I thought I would do, I sometimes challenge myself to honour the dreams of my other self. I realise aspirations of mine, and make time to ride (if not in the early morning).
What if
There are so many ‘what if’s that I can dream of that make me realise the abundance in my life. If I visit a garden, I might say, “If I had a garden like this, I would grow daisies, rudbeckia and echinacea all around a swing chair, and every day I’d sit and relax, breathing in the fresh air.” We don’t always count our blessings in our lives. There is shame and stigma attached to spending time in the garden, and yet people will say, “if I had”. There’s a tension between “if I had” and “it’s all right for some”. When we count our blessings we also free up the blessing for availability. We do have a garden. As I think back to my hopes as I planned our garden in our old house, maybe I could honour these lurking wishes of mine, and slow down once in a while.
Count our blessings – the chores
Here’s another ‘what if’ to challenge my attitude towards the weekly shop, and tidying it all away. “If I had food available in abundance, I would spend time and take pleasure in cooking a delicious meal every day.” Well of course we do have food in abundance available for us. But as find shopping a chore, and view tidying groceries away as a total drag… count our blessings – lost me there. But when we don’t have food so easily available we would very quickly prioritise and appreciate food to tidy into our cupboards and time to prepare it.
Particularly when I take the boys camping this becomes more of a reality for us. Fresh milk and other typically chilled goods quickly become rare luxuries. There’s only so many pot noodles and pasta with pesto you can have as a treat. What was often once an indulgence, like tins of ready meals quickly loses its elevated status.
Letting go of the dream
But we can’t always honour the visions and dreams of our pasts. Other times we need to let go. A decade back when I recall my visualising my own parenting journey with my children, I would have imagined dropping my children off at school. Cut fruit would await their return. We’d take joyous walks up hills after school followed by hot chocolates and homework time. All of this was not to be. Difficulties of school experiences, anxiety and depression, and my own distractibility would mean that none of this would ever come to fruition.
Is all lost?
In times of 180 turns, where we ultimately decided to homeschool and turn our imaginations of a wholistic public education on its head, – this is when we count our blessings. I remind myself what an honour it is to guide, and walk alongside my children. Homeschool was never part of our plan. It doesn’t really fit anywhere in my ‘when I have children…’ back when I was expecting my first child, feeling the summer sun on my tummy and willing the warmth to reach my baby. But it does fit the image of spending time together, playing and listening to music, cooking tasty food, and reading stories.
In fact, this image, this hope, this dream of a family in harmony is even more of a reality. Day by day I am honoured to recreate this hope alongside my children. Humour is required, grace and forgiveness in abundance. But lest I ever forget, and see it as a chore, count our blessings, and I think back to these memories of hope and anticipation, and remember it as a God given privilege.
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