Ann Voskamp

Ferris Wheel of Tantrums

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My jaw is locked again, her screams are ringing through my head like the pressure of a sinus infection. They settle into a moan, a forced noise so I don’t forget she’s there. I clutch the oak trim of our counter as I remind myself it’s her choice and I just have to follow through with what I said. Go ahead, be upset, not changing this mama’s mind. 
She calms enough for me to talk to her. But a hug, a kiss, another poor decision later and we are cresting the top of the Ferris Wheel of tantrums once more. Round and round, up and down we go. And I want off the ride.

As with all great battles, we make a peace treaty. I feel certain I am the declared winner, though the true victor is exhaustion. She finally succumbs to her pillow and I melt into every step leading me to the kitchen. I take a deep breath. I need something. Left of the fridge, bottom shelf. There it is, my salvation. Hershey’s dark chocolate Bliss. Oh, it is. I escape, I indulge, I take because I deserve. I’ve just spent the better part of the morning straining, at times unsuccessfully, to stay the adult. What I really should have is a hot fudge sundae so massive in girth that it would only fit in the bowl of our fire pit. But I’m not stocked for this kind of decadence so I do what I can with the candies.

Entitlement, how did I find you?

Really. I am such a political advocate against this kind of thing. I come from hard-work, do-it-right-with-all-you’ve-got parents who taught me never to cut corners. I admire in all three of them a loyalty rarely found anymore. My mom spent over 25 years in one position, my dad has been 35 years at one company, and my stepmom, wait for it…47 years in the same dental office. I believe there is a serious, personal flaw in people who are entitled to everything they want. People, like me.

Yes, I work hard. No I don’t expect everything done for me. But I also want to be thanked for cooking dinner. A standing ovation would be nice after taking care of all three of my kids for the summer. I don’t think a Grande Caramel Mocha is too much for running so many errands. Just a little color for the gray hair I don’t want to admit I have, every two or three months. I need, need a Dr. Pepper on a lonely day, to watch Parenthood every night so I can catch up to season 5, and QUIET. Can I just, get, some quiet?

Granted, none of these things are bad. Balance requires some checked out, veg out, “me” time. But what’s been happening to my heart is ugly. I have become discontent.

Ann Voskamp is teaching me different.

The truth is:

I GET to have three, healthy kids to drive me bonkers. I’ve spent most of my life wanting kids around me and I have not been asked to do without them. 
I GET to stay home to teach my little girl to be respectful even when she’s highly disappointed and angry with her circumstances.
I GET to have a yard that needs mowed.
I GET to have running water, hot or cold or anything in between, so I can wash dishes that served us meals others would call extravagant. Yes, even Ramen. 
I GET to learn the hard, uninspired, meaningful, poetic, regretful, bipolar process of writing that in fact, does touch some of you out there. 

When I know I’m blessed, I become the blessing for someone else. And that’s the place of contentment. 

Thank you. “I say the words slowly, hope they soak into his pores, broken man who yearns to bless, and I am him and he is me and behind the masks we are all the same. All, we only find joy in the blessings that are taken, broken, and given.”                                                             -Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts

 

“When did I stop thinking life was dessert?”

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Chapter four of Miss Voskamp’s life story is about food, and she is speaking my language.

“When did I stop thinking life was dessert?”

“It takes a full twenty minutes after your stomach is full for your brain to register satiation. How long does it take your soul to realize that your life is full? The slower the living, the greater the sense of fullness and satisfaction. The body and soul can synchronize.”

“Life is dessert- too brief to hurry.”

                                                                                              -Ann Voskamp 

One Thousand Wha…? Meandering thoughts on Ann Voskamp

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“We look and swell with the ache of a broken, battered planet, what we ascribe as the negligent work of an indifferent Creator (if we even think there is one). Do we ever think of the busted-up place as the result of us ingrates, unsatisfied, we who punctured it all with a bite? The fruit’s poison has infected the whole of humanity. Me. I say no to what He’s given. I thirst for some roborant, some elixir, to relieve the anguish of what I’ve believed: God isn’t good. God doesn’t love me.”            -Ann Voskamp

Wait. I need to read that again. Maybe twice.

“Take it slow,” says a friend, to which I wonder, is there any other choice? I feel like I’m reading the pages through finger-smudged glasses. My mind squints and demands, “Come again?” as I muddle through the rhetoric.

I landed at Starbucks this morning kidless, (WordPress is underlining that word in bright red right now but I’m using it anyway. I like the way it sounds. In fact, I’ll repeat it.) kidless, watching a long line of fellow addicted patrons ebb and flow through the drive-thru. A black Buick, a first generation 4Runner, swanky women whom I guess to be from the million dollar homes in Castle Pines, just-ripe teens texting in their boredom and obsession with modern culture, and suit jackets on their way to a meeting. I nestle into a corner with my books, my laptop and my journal. I have over two hours to read, do a writing practice, edit pictures, browse the internet. “This is going to be good,” I post on my Facebook status.

Oh, was it.  

“I read a chapter a day,” another friend says of this wildly popular book. Yes. Seems like a good pace. I’ll do that too.

The yellow ribbon of the bookmark I’m borrowing slumps over, smashed between ink and paper. I pull on it, ready to get the “shoulds” out of the way. You know the ones. “I should read something that draws me to God. I should read today’s checklist Bible verse. I should journal my heart, pray.” And then I’ll get to the fun stuff.

But I never leave her words.

I linger, copy, and am pulled closer. I nearly cry behind the metal post in the floor-to-ceiling window at the coffee bar. I am gripped, while preschool pick-up time runs faster and faster toward me.

“I wake to the discontent of my skin. I wake to self-hatred. To the wrestle to get it all done, the relentless anxiety that I am failing. Always, the failing. I yell at children, fester with bitterness, forget doctor appointments, lose library books, live selfishly, skip prayer, complain, go to bed too late, neglect cleaning toilets. I live tired. Afraid. Anxious. Weary.”

                                                                             -Ann Voskamp

I’m held there, struck by the courage of this woman’s journey. Not from the “poetic” beauty of her sentences, though they are beautiful. Nor from the fresh, pure perspective she offers of gratitude, though it’s stirred me deeply. What’s incredible is how she approaches a crossroads and has the fearlessness to keep going.

“The sun climbs the horizon. I throw back the covers, take another breath, and begin. I GET to. I GET to live.”

                                                                              -Ann Voskamp

She does not stay in hopelessness. She does not end at the grief, depressed and ungrateful. She pushes, seeks, and claws until she finds more.

There IS more. Much, much more.  

“At the Eucharist, Christ breaks His heart to heal ours-“

                                                          -Ann Voskamp