Author: Andrea Esh

I'm a mom of four. I am a farmer's wife, and after ten years I am still adjusting to that. I like writing, acting silly with my kids, and having long conversations with my husband. I'm on a quest for a peaceful, simple life. I follow Jesus.

This, That and The Other

.Reading time 5 minutes.

Right now I’m feeling like a terrible failure.  I know that I am in fact not a failure, but I
still feel like one.  The last weeks I
have:

potty trained my youngest

read books to the kids in bed

hugged them multiple times a day

Got to the bottom of why Elena was “sick” and wanted to skip school

Taught Brandt to carry a big stick while he walks around the house, all the
while speaking softly “God is with me, God is with me”

Made chicken stock that is really good and really handy

Sounds Ok right?

Well, I also:

Let my kids watch WAY to many movies

Let chicken spoil in the fridge because I didn’t take the time to freeze it
(this one bothers me very badly)

Let my house become a smoldering pot of disarray

Barked at my child. Then preached at him.
Then scolded some more. Until he said: “Uhhh, I TIRED of all the YELLING”

Gave my husband the cold shoulder because I thought he was working too much

Let some wash on the line for an entire
week, because I was too lazy to take it off

(please mom don’t be embarrassed, the
issue is not that you didn’t teach me, the issue is I don’t put into practice
what I know)

Kissed Madelyn and made her cry (its true she said “ouch ouch don’t kiss,
it burns me!)

Plus many, more failures, these are the ones I could think of in five minutes.

So there is good, and there is ugly twisted together into the lumpy braid of my
life.  Right now the knots in the braid are
glaring at me, demanding my attention.

But Christ the loving hairbrush untangles all my split ends,
and conditions the strands of my life.  He
gently whispers “I will be your permanent refuge”.

I am sensing that I have taken the hair analogy a bit far.  Be glad I stopped, because I was trying to
work the words fringe, bob and highlight into the sentence too.

THE POINT IS:  Yes the point, I can’t
find the point because now I see golden hairbrushes floating around the sky,
plus I have the giggles.  The point is…that I am noticing all my flaws lately and keep beating myself up about them.   I keep waiting for the grand and glorious day, when I will have my act together. And I’m realizing that that day will never come.

Carrying on.  Why am I desperate to get
my act together?

A heart-longing of mine is coming true.
A dream that I’ve had for years is creeping
to a reality.

We are DONE with our home study.  We are adopting.  Somewhere out there is another little person
who is going to join this laid back, get nothing done, messy-haired family.

That is why, the reality of who I am, and who I am not, is hitting home.

When I say creeping to a reality I mean creeping to a reality. Home studies
should take two to three months, ours took nine. Yes, we move at a
snails pace.

And now we join a multitude of other people in the waiting game.  Waiting for God’s timing, and praying that
this dream won’t vanish in thin air.
Praying for a nameless little person who will have to suffer much loss,
and come bearing hole in his heart that we cannot fill.

—————————————————————————

Frequently asked questions:

Where are you adopting from?

USA

What age?

Under two, good chance it will be a baby

Boy or girl?

Don’t know

How long will you have
to wait?

Again don’t know, ball park figure- 4 months to two years.

—————————————————————————-

So if you wake up at 3AM with insomnia, and our faces flash in your brain say a
prayer, because like all the other parents on planet earth, we could use them.

Ps. If I have offended anyone by comparing Jesus to a hairbrush, my sincere
apologies.

5 Things I Miss about being Beachy

.Reading time 3 minutes.

About four years ago we left the Beachy church that we attended, and joined the land of shrinking doilies and slit skirts.   My
whole life I was a child of a minister, Calvary Bible Schooled, Youth Fellowship Meeting attending golden Beachy girl.  Here’s what I miss about being Beachy.

1.   I miss the Sword and Trumpet, a publication that we got in our church mail boxes.  I faithfully read every article.  When I confessed to Gene that I miss that little book, he was like, “You mean the magazine with the ugly old men on the cover?” I was all offended and said, THEY CHANGED IT HONEY!! No more old men, just flowers and trees and stuff.  AND when you got the Calvary Messenger on the same Sunday, it was like BONUS POINTS! TWO FOR ONE!!

2.    I miss getting up in the morning and yanking on a dress.  I don’t do well with tons of options, and now its like mm..doesn’t match/too denim/too ugly/too tight/too baggy.  And have you seen the Beachy dresses lately? Cute! 

 

3.     I miss choral singing.  I was at a funeral last week, and a conservative looking family shared in song.  I could hum along every song, several parts.  And I sat there and thought, “We are losing this rich heritage.  My family won’t be able sing like that. They will rely on keyboard accompaniment.  How can I teach them to sing all four parts? Will they even know these songs? Waaait a minute…What am I thinking? How did I turn into a middle-aged visiting minister?

4.       Here’s a sticky one.  I miss the culture.  This is hard to explain, so I won’t even try, because I will make them sound like a cross between Susanna Wesley and Rebecca Black. Let’s just say that Beachys are a bunch of saints but they know how to have fun.

5.     I miss the Beards. Hang on!  How did this one slip in here? Not really. I don’t miss the beards.

PS. For your enjoyment, a picture of Gene and myself while we were still Beachy.
 And that dress? Well it was borrowed from my sister who always had cooler dresses than I did.
I wore it once, and than lost it.  It literally disapeared and I have no idea what
happened to it.  I can only assume someone broke into our vehicle and stole it. I
told you Beachy dresses are cute!

PPS. You call that scruff a beard?
PPPS. Beachy’s can’t wear ties!