Skip to main content

The Olden Days

There's nothing like having to do without a modern convenience to get you thinking of "way back when" and how in the world people possibly existed without DVR's, frozen pizzas and Netflix. We're having a smoldering week in Indiana (as are other areas, I realize) and on Saturday our air conditioner's fan motor died. It was a little warm in our three bedroom house and I may or may not have whined. Just a bit.

Last week on our way home from vacation, we visited the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln and snapped pictures of the teeny tiny one room cabin, wondering how a family of four lived within its walls. But they did. Somehow. And even without modern conveniences they somehow loved, learned of God and one of them became a very notable, honorable man of integrity who briefly led this country. You don't have to have much to become more.

Aaron mentioned this to me as I fanned myself and packed a bag to escape to the cool environment of my parent's house. It's one thing to sit under a ceiling fan in an 80 degree house. It's another to chase a small person around all its walls for an entire day. So as I quickly packed an overnight bag for me and the boy, my husband mentioned (as he ate a Freezie Pop, shirtless), "Man, how did they do it?"

I've been turning this thought in my head for a few days, even before air left our home and the heat seeped in. I heard the old classic, "Coal Miner's Daughter" on the radio and the lyrics regarding a mother who washed clothes every day on a wash board and read the Bible by candlelight and who had bloody fingers but never complained... how can we, in our age of Facebook and Walmart understand? I have laundry going right now and I don't have a darn thing to do with it other than switching it out and putting it away.

This all led me to think about my Grandma Mary who is an incredible, incredible woman. You want to talk about backbreaking hard work and painful heartache? Try losing your mother in a horrific house fire when you're only six years old. Try having six children with the handsome man of your dreams, only to have cancer take him away in his early 40's. Try carrying on and continuing the family farm, life, raising, loving, rearing children. How about not becoming bitter by it all but continuing on in faith and grace and finding love yet again with a tremendous man who becomes father and grandfather to a passel of more human beings, generations who love him, can't wait to go fishing with him, who laugh at the quick thumb that tells you to get out of his favorite chair.

I adore my Grandmother.

She is simple and she's strong and you know, back when she was a stay at home mom, there weren't blogs or Facebook. There weren't playdates and girls night outs. There was work and cooking and laundry. There was church to go to and children who needed baths. And the thing that I marvel at... that I am a little jealous over... is that there was no shame in that. There was no shame in being in that white house with the fields all around. There was absolutely nothing for her to feel guilty about. She served, she loved, she mothered. That was her calling. It was her job. And there was no glossy magazines to tell her otherwise.

I think of this when I begin to fight the overwhelming urge to do more than home and husband and baby. There's so much to get caught up by. As mothers we're supposed to do so much more than "just" stay at home. Like seriously, I nearly feel guilty because I don't have a home business. That seems to be the thing right now. Or if I have a blog, it should at least be making a profit. It shouldn't just be for a handful of friends who read and comment and share life together. I mean, goodness. What a waste.

I'm not bitter or upset by these things, but I do feel their weight as I buck the pull and obnoxiousness from my shoulders on sometimes a daily basis. That pressure to do more. Be more. No longer does it seem okay to stay home, cook, raise babies, go to church. Now you need to be out and about. If you're home the majority of the time, then you're not doing it right. If you're not super tan and super fit, then you're doing it wrong.

"We have too many
high sounding words
and too few actions to
correspond with them."
~ A b i g a i l A d a m s

And I think of my Grandma who was too busy working and living to worry about such silly things as what was fashionable or "in". She was too occupied with what God had filled her hands with to complain or to fuss with what someone else thought she should do. I am envious of that spirit because I can so quickly get sucked down into feeling that I'm just not cutting it. It would be so freeing if I didn't have to think about pre-baby jeans the second I walk out of the hospital with my new baby. I wish everyone could be free of all these man-made, popular "standards". I don't see the health in them for your spiritual, mental or emotional health. Because if we're focused on all that.... well... then what is happening at home?

Maybe my views are old fashioned. I was raised by a mother who sewed our best and favorite dresses, encouraged excitement when Daddy came home and even went so far as to educate my sister and I at home. Later she involved herself in the ares of activism that God had placed on her heart, but her outward activities never trumped what went on in that little house I grew up in. She learned well from her mother what mattered most. And it wasn't what happened outside the walls of home.

I'm a third generation mother, now. And as I sit here with my pearly white MacBook and my fancy schmancy iced coffee, I smile. I smile and my eyes fill up a little because you know, I get to choose where I look for examples of what is true. I get to admire and absorb the traditions of times gone by. My Mom lived it. My Grandma taught it. And now I have the opportunity to be that kind of mother. I have the space to make our home that kind of home.

In our fast paced, Google-everything-you-never-needed-to-know age, it can still be done. Simplicity can still be had. You choose what fills your calendar. You have a say in who takes up space in your heart, who you make time for, what controls the majority of your thoughts. I think sometimes we think we don't have a say anymore. That we just have to obey what is placed before us. But you know what, you don't.

I want to be less concerned with what "they" say and be more of what God says. I want to find comfort and strength in my calling and my place in life right now. I don't want my energy to be zapped away because I'm trying so hard to meet some unattainable goal set by people who have personal chefs, trainers and nannies. It's foolishness.

I want to be more like my Grandma as I grow up. I want to be more concerned with actions that matter versus just life fillers. Life is short. None of us know how short. This could be my last blog post. My last day. And if it was, would I even think about the home business that never got off the ground or the book I never completed? Will I care that I couldn't get back into the jeans I wore when I was in my 20's? Will I fuss because I didn't eat enough spinach or content because I always ordered tiramisu when given the chance?

And will I look back and regret that I stopped to read a book and make animal sounds in the middle of blogging like I did just now? You always, always have a choice. Your time really is your own. I hear all the time, "I never have enough time! We're so busy!" Sometimes those words come out of my mouth and I feel so stressed out that I just want to pass out on the couch and have Aaron bring me home a Rolo McFlurry because it's been that kind of day. But the truth is, we write things on our calendar. It's our hands. Our Sharpie.

My Grandma didn't have to worry if she should do more because she was. She didn't have to stress that she should do this or that because she was doing the best she could with what she had and with what was before her. I wonder what things my mind would be set on if I was living and mothering that way. If I was just focused on being at home because I am at home and not getting caught in the net of silly mandates that seem to change all the time.

What doesn't ever change - whether nowadays or back then - is that words and actions matter. What we choose to say can't contradict what we do. What we do can't take over what we say counts the most. Simple or busy, full calendars or weeks that are wide open, what continues to matter through the ages is the influence we have on one another. The words we give, the love we have. What we do still matters. We just have more to weed through, now.

But I'm thinking that what matters most is most likely what has always mattered most.

"We must take care to know our place,
take it and keep to it.
We must minister as the Spirit
has given us ability..."
~ C h a r l e s S p u r g e o n


  1. Beautiful! Recently, my grandmother, whom I was very close to, passed away and I've been thinking so much about her and her life. She had a tough life, raising 10 children, loosing 3 in infancy, having twins with Autism before anyone even knew what it was, but she was always quick witted and funny. So much we can learn from them...Simple is good and Time is precious.

  2. As I sit here, annoyed because my air conditioner is broken; waiting for the repair man and sitting in my 80 degrees house, I stumbled across your blog. It's amazing how I am thinking everything you wrote about; it's like you were writing about or to me. Thank you.

    Kristen Goldsmith

  3. Be proud to be a mother who seeks to live like your beloved Grandmother. Being a working Mom who had little time for anything except work and who constantly told her sons, "we'll do it later..." left me with profound regret. Do not be conformed to this world. God had it right in the beginning. We've listened to the message in the world and it causes all these conflicted feelings. You are what God created you to be. Hold to that truth and everything else will fall into place. I think you are a great Mom and a good friend.


  4. FANTASTIC insights. I relate so much!

  5. Chrissy ~ I'm so sorry to hear about your grandmother. That is so tremendous about her life and her legacy! I agree, simplicity is good, very good and time moves fast and is so very precious.

    Kristen ~ Aww! What crazy timing! That's awesome! It's miserable, I know, but as we know, things can always be worse! (Your A/C is back in the works, now, right?!) :)

    Beth ~ What a sweet, honest comment. It made me tear up. I love you and respect you so much and your words mean a lot to me. I think YOU are a great Mom and a GOOD friend, as well!

    Brenda ~ Thank you!!! :)

  6. I didn't see this until just now! What an encouraging, convicting post. Thank you for sharing your thoughts! As usual, I give it all a hearty "Amen!" :)


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog


There are two ways to live life.

It's all miracle. Wondrous. Awesome.

And... not.

There's a phrase I love a whole lot and I flash it a around in my hashtags pretty much always. Wait for it. Brace yourself. It's pretty fantastic: "Don't be a miserable cow."

I mean, how great is that?!

I'm the crazy Mom who pulls over to point out sunrises or sunsets. I'll stop to take pictures of the sky or detour to our church parking lot to see how the sky looks over the pond. My kids know I do this and in due time, I fully suspect them to connect the dots and discover Who I'm really chasing after. Who I'm trying to get close to in those moments of sky art glory.

On Valentine's Day morning, I made my way to the end of the icy driveway with my seven year old. I usually don't accompany him to the spot where he stands and waits for the bus, but this particular morning, I was forced to brave the elements. Trash day. So, we stood and shivered and stomped on the …

Tale as old as time: a different sort of review...

Is there any more beautiful notes than the first few tones of the dramatic prologue to Beauty and the Beast? When Disney released its animated version in 1991, my little ten year old heart was completely enraptured. Enchanted. I am never not moved by the overview of the roses, the squinting through brambles to see the castle aching and looming large against the sky.

Last night I swung by RedBox and picked up the newest version, since I'm like the only person on the planet who hasn't seen it, yet. I was ready for some uninterrupted girl time - just me and my mini Ben & Jerry's. I couldn't get the kids to bed fast enough (which is ironic, because I allowed them to stay up later than normal - the things we do as mothers that never make sense to anyone). I had my evening planned out and suddenly I had unending patience and energy. Funny how self-care works.

I settled deeper into my couch, held the ice cream close and got ready for an evening free of thinking and lists …


I've been encouraged to write. Challenged. Read it on pages and in between lines. Heard it in a song. Write, write, write. The ones who know me so well... they tell me. "Where are you? Why aren't you doing this thing that you were given to do?" And... I don't know. I've got kids, man. I've got responsibilities and stuffed calendars and I just sometimes want to sit in my comfy pants and eat Starburst Jellybeans and binge on a favorite show. Sometimes... a lot of times... I think: what could I possibly have to offer? I can't even get caught up on laundry. I feel like I'm kind of a mess. There's not much inspirational about that.

But, I'll admit... when it's quiet? When I have space to hear the strum of my heart and the pounding of dreams racing through my head, like the agile feet of a runner, Reebok's smacking the asphalt? I feel it. I feel it right now. My spirit is knocking on a door I keep on locking up. Oh sure, pull the laptop o…