Journey Together

A few years ago, when Zach was finalizing his decision to become a Pastor in the United Methodist Church, and going through the steps to make that decision a reality, we had lunch with a, at the time, dear friend.  It was during this lunch that I was told by this friend that I was not cut out to be a Pastor's wife.  I was told that I could very likely hinder my husband's ministry unless I chose to change who I was.  This conversation, which was less a conversation and more an attack (in my honest opinion), left me feeling many things.  Anger, indignation, betrayal, and, most of all, insecurity.  It was the last thing I needed to hear at this point in our lives.  We had already accepted a job at a new church, in a new town, things were already in motion, there was no going back now.

I returned home from that lunch and promptly cried buckets of tears.  Zach and I discussed, at length, whether or not we thought this friend was correct in his assessment of me.  My dear husband reassured me repeatedly that I would not hinder his career in anyway, which, I'll admit, I only half believed.  I didn't choose this life.  I married a man who was going to school for business.  When we got married we both only worked part time at the church, helping with the youth.  There was a time when Zach worked full-time in sales, both of us thinking that this was his future.  I never would have thought that God would call him into full time ministry.

Since that afternoon three years ago, I have met many Pastor spouses.  Each one has taught me that there is no one way to live this life.  Each one is different in personality, in gifts, in weaknesses.  Each one has a different opinion of their role in the church and in the ministry of their pastor spouse.  I've been told by more experienced spouses that I have permission to choose my own path.  True, not everyone in the church we are sent to will like me, not everyone will agree with my chosen path, regardless of what it is.  You simply can not please everyone all of the time.

Still, with this knowledge and with these great mentors in my own life, the insecurity persists.  I have not been able to rid myself of the voice of that friend, hearing it in the back of my mind each and every day.  There have been moments, times of despair and uncertainty, that I lament "I am not cut out for this life!"  I cry out to God,"How could Zach be so obviously called to ministry, to being a Pastor, and I am not called to go with him?!"  These moments occur more often than I would like to admit.

However, last week I was able to go to the Annual Conference of the New Mexico United Methodist Churches.  This was my first time at Conference and I quite enjoyed it, despite the long business sessions.  There was a special speaker at Conference, Pastor Jorge Acevedo, who said quite a few things that was life giving to me.  One such thing was, "Comparison is not of the devil, it is the devil."  I would imagine that all of us are guilty of comparing ourselves with others.  It doesn't usually lead to anything good.  Pastor Acevedo had many good things to say, particularly at the Ordination Service.  I found myself getting inspired, inspired to do ministry.  Inspired to do ministry with my husband, excited and emotional, thinking of the day when he will finally be ordained.  Then, like a light turning on, sitting in that service, it occurred to me.  I am called to this life.  Sure, my calling looks nothing like Zach's, and it looks nothing like the spouses of other Pastor's, but it's a calling all the same.  I know I help Zach do ministry when I am at home with the kids feeling useless.  I help when he can go where he needs to go, do what he needs to do, and he knows that I have things handled at home.  I help when I support him unconditionally, when he knows I am willing to go with him wherever his ministry takes him.  I must stand firm in the faith that God has called all of us, in some fashion, and I must not be tempted to compare my calling with others.  I also must remember that as we continue along our paths, the view will change but the destination is unwavering.

I can not promise that I will not have moments of insecurity, of doubt, of worry, moments where I compare myself with someone else.  I can not promise that everyone will like me or agree with my choices.  I can only continue on the best that I know how, hand in hand with my husband, in the full and comforting embrace of our Father, enveloped in the unending and unwavering grace that is offered to us all.

May I please offer a plea to all my church going friends, laity and clergy both, to stop comparing, but to love one another, encourage and uphold the calling in one another, even if it looks different that what we expect or desire?  Thank you for reading.  It means more to me than you know.

Taking control

As any mother of more than one child can attest to, your kids arguing with one another can be a major issue in your household.  If my oldest two children are in the same place for more than a minute, they are arguing.  Mostly it stems from my seven year old believing she knows everything and my four year old saying things just to make her mad.  I am constantly reminding Zoe that she cant control what others do, she can only control her reaction.  In frustration I'll lament,  "Why can't you just let it go?"  Obviously the sky isn't green, he's just saying that because he knows it makes her mad.  That's what little brothers do.  She has to be right, she has to set him straight, and the arguing continues until there are tears or I step in to separate them.

It's easy to get my mom voice and lecture my children about letting go of the little things and taking control of our own reactions.  It comes naturally to me to sit my daughter down and remind her that being right isn't the most important thing we can do.  When it comes to living what I teach, that's another matter.

I've been slapped by the realization that I have let certain people steal my joy.  I has hit with daunting clarity recently at a Bible Study that I have held on to criticisms I have received in the past, in some cases, the distant past, and it has colored the perception I have of myself and my ability to do certain things.  I have allowed those negative people and thoughts to define a part of who I am, or, at the very least, of who I think I am.  I have let my desire to be right in some instances damage my relationships with certain people.  I have done that, no body else. 

With new insight comes a new challenge.   How do I let go of years of hanging on to my bitterness?  How do I truly forgive, down in my heart, where it counts?  How do I refuse to let other people define me?

Friends, I honestly don't know, but I'm working on it.  Something that has helped me in ways I would never of guessed is to intentionally focus on the good in others.  I'm talking, everyone I come into contact with.  I try to think of something I admire about that person with every encounter.  By seeing something positive in other people, I'm more easily able to see the positive things within myself.  By focusing on a person's good quality, I'm less likely to get annoyed by the little things.  By trying to enjoy the presence of those I come into contact with, I find it easier to put myself into their shoes, to understand why they may say or do hurtful things.  By doing each of these things, I find it easier, in most cases, to voice my opinion without major conflict arising over differences.

My family, with Zach's guidance, has made a mantra of "Love God, Love others, reach out."  I remind my children that when we show love to others, especially those who annoy us or hurt us, we are truly showing love to God.  It's so hard sometimes, and sometimes it's even harder to love ourselves.  

I can not control others.  I can only control myself.  It's a daily challenge, one that I fail at constantly, but I pray daily to see change.  I pray that by through my actions, I am teaching my children what it means to LOVE, and that I someday, I can honestly say that I practice what I preach.

 I would love to hear from you on this topic.  

Lessons in Retreat

As a lot of people who work in ministry do, we live our lives in semesters.  In our house the Spring semester is our hardest time of the year.  Zach is insanely busy at work which means most days the only time he sees our kids is after they are already asleep.  Having lived this life for a while we realized that we need time, in the midst of the chaos, to retreat together as family.   It was a year ago that we booked our weekend away and I had been counting the days.

Last Thursday we loaded up the car, checked Zoe out of school and headed up to Sacramento, NM for a couple of days of fun with the family and (per doctor's orders) some rest and relaxation.  I can proudly say that our agenda was met, with a little help from our Father.  He sent some glorious rain on Friday which kept this accident prone pregnant lady indoors and out of harms way.

Enjoying the beautiful weather.

 

One thing we did do, before the rain began, was take the kids up on a little hike to a place called Serenity Peak.  We took our time heading up and once we got to the top, we just sat on the benches and chatted for a while.  It was so serene (see what I did there?), for a brief moment.

Serenity Peak with the family.

My darling daughter of five years was always such a sweet thing.  We never had to really deal with the terrible toddler years with her, just some stubbornness.  It seems she was storing up all of her past tantrums to unleash on us once she started school.  While she is close to perfection at school, when she comes home its battle royale time at Bechtold Manor.  She chose a moment, coming down from Serenity Peak, to express this, and boy, did she express.

It started with a stumble, which lead to her standing there screaming like she was seriously maimed and refusing to take one step further.  We calmly (at first) told her that she must calm down, her injury was not serious, and she could, in spite of her proclamation that she could never move again, make it down the mountain.  We would take a few steps, turn wait for her, and she would scream bloody murder and take one measly little step.  This continued for a while, even after her announcement that she had to potty "so bad" which, regardless of what a sane person might think, did not result in her choosing to suck it up and start walking.  Finally, when mommy and daddy were close to their breaking point, little brother stepped up to save the day.

Little sweet, almost three year old Noah, looked up the hill at his big sister, screaming like a banshee, and calmly proclaimed, "I'll go get her."  He trucked himself up there, gave his sister a comforting hug, took her by the hand and lead her down the hill to us.  It was the sweetest sight and it humbled me.

As parents Zach and I try to teach our children to have strength, to make wise choices, and to be good examples for others.  Sometimes, in the midst of these lessons we forget that we also need to teach them compassion for others, especially those who may not be receiving compassion from anyone else.

I've previously blogged about how I know I have a weakness when it comes to showing others compassion, as well as allowing myself to receive it from others.  My husband preached a sermon on Sunday, which I didn't get to hear much of (pesky kids :) ) but in which he spoke about how important it is that we always show love to others and allow them to show love to us in return.  It's about humbling ourselves.

Our time in the mountains was indeed refreshing, allowing us to connect again as a family and to rest our bodies, but, as usual, I came away from this time of no distractions, learning a lesson from my little ones.

May you also find time to refresh, rejoice, and perhaps, learn something...

I'm not as smart as my kids...

Things have been hectic here at Bechtold Manor.  Zach has kicked off his busiest time of year and I'm having to get used to many nights of putting the kids to bed by myself.  I'm okay with it though, at least I know he will be here in the morning. :)

Baby Girl Bechtold is baking well, practicing her kicks and punches on my internal organs like a boss.  I have found that with baby number 3 I'm not as impatient as I was with the other two.  I need the next few months to prepare us all for her arrival.  As I was folding laundry yesterday I was hit with the realization that I will soon be doing laundry for five people.  Yikes!

We told Zoe that if she didn't mind switching bedrooms to the guest room that we would redecorate with paint, new furniture, and new bedding.  We started with the painting last week and she loves it.  We still have a long way to go but we are getting there little by little.

I cant get over how much my kids have grown this past month or so, both physically and mentally.  I like to think God is helping them to prepare for the little one to come, for both of them to be older siblings again.  They make me so proud.

For Christmas Zach and I gave Zoe a new "big girl" Bible.  We chose to get one that she could grow with so we opted not to go with a child's Bible.  The one she got is one I would give my youth students at church.  We knew that it would be a while before she would grow to appreciate the gift but we still wanted to get it for her.  The other night I went to tuck her in to bed and saw the Bible laying beside her.  I picked it up and noticed the ribbon marker had moved.  She said, "That's where I am in reading it."  Now, Zoe is five years old.  She is a pretty good little reader, but, let's be honest, she's not that fluent, especially when it come to reading Leviticus.  However, I love that she spends some time every evening "reading" her new Bible.  What a great habit to get into.

Once again I feel shamed by my children.  Here's my sweet girl, faced with so many new changes, who is going, on her own accord, into the Word.  I know she's not getting much as far as reading goes, but I also know God has His hand on her.  With all the busyness and chaos that has consumed our world lately, and will continue to for the weeks and months to come, I have forgotten at times to go to Him who can deliver peace, understanding, and wisdom.  I go to bed each night and, instead of grabbing my Bible, I reach for another book, the remote control, or the laptop.  I need to be more like my kids.

Here's another little reminder, that no matter how grown up we may feel we are, there is always something we can learn from those around us.

May you see those who can teach you, no matter their age...

My sweet girl.

Trying to See...

This past weekend Zach and I were able to go to a Youth Leader Retreat put on by our conference.  We left Thursday and retreated until Saturday.  It was lovely.  Going to the mountains is always a treat for me, I love the cool air and we even got rain! Lots and lots of rain.

The conference was able to bring in a speaker to lead the retreat and so we got to spend the weekend with Mark Yaconelli.  If you are unfamiliar with him, go check out the link, especially if you work with youth in any capacity.  I really enjoyed the times we were able to sit and speak to him, to hear his philosophies on ministry and life.

The theme of this retreat was, more or less, about being able to take your Sabbath.  To find that place of peace and rest in the midst of our chaotic lives.  We also talked a lot about compassion, what that looks like, how to show it, and how to receive it. 

I don't know about anyone else but I struggle with showing compassion to others.  In my mind I'm secretly thinking, "Geez, you think you have it tough? There are people all over the world so worse off than you."  I know, it's horrible!  I find that I constantly have to remind myself that pain is pain, regardless of anything else. 

During one such session, when Mark was giving us a model of what compassion looks like and how to get there, I thought of my daughter.  I specific image came to my mind:  Noah, running around, falling and skinning his knee on the asphalt.  It immediately began to bleed and he just barely whimpered, struggling as I tried to clean the wound.  His loving sister came by and, upon seeing her brother's knee, had tears well up in her eyes.  She stood, transfixed by the sight of her brother's physical hurt.  Slightly shaking her head back and forth, she repeated, over and over, "Poor, poor bubba."

Once again I find myself wishing I were more like my children.   Compassion and empathy comes so natural to them.  At what point does that change?  At what point do we loose the ability to notice one's suffering and immediately feel compassion towards them?

Mark noted that the first step to showing compassion is seeing them as they really are.  Instead of seeing a kid as dirty or annoying or disruptive, we should see them as, well, just a kid.  A kid who may be hurting. 

My vision is often clouded with my own issues and prejudices. 

This weekend with other Youth workers in our area, most of whom I have never met, left me feeling humbled.  There is no other word to describe it.  However, I also feel that I left that mountain sanctuary with a few more tools in my arsenal.  I am so thankful.

May we all be able to truly see those around us.

Picture of Peace...



Where's your sparkle?

I often find myself in need of a certain reminder, things aren't usually nearly as bad as I think they are.

Those moments that I find myself incredibly discouraged with work are eased when I am able to clearly see that, it spite of it all, things could be worse.  When I am able to make myself see that, I am also able to see all the blessings.

The same goes for parenthood.   It's no secret, with two young children with two strong personalities, that the going gets tough sometimes.  I've made countless phone calls to my mom where the first words out of my mouth are, "Your grandchildren!"  It helps me to hear her chuckle, even if I don't completely appreciate it at the time, and realize, these are the moments that are few and far between.  These are the moments that I won't remember a year from now.  I have a great family, I should never take them for granted.

It helps to have someone to vent to.  I am lucky that when it comes to work and ministry issues, I have a great pastor/friend that will allow me to come to his office and "download."  I am lucky that my husband doesn't mind me crying on his shoulder when I just don't know what else to do.  I am lucky that my mother is able to bring my back down to reality when my kids are driving me batty.
I am lucky.  I am blessed.

I am also lucky that these wonderful people around me, my kids who depend on me, my family that supports me, do not allow me to wallow in the "poor me's."   I am not afforded the luxury to wallow too long in whatever woes I feel are irrepressible, and instead, am encouraged to be proactive about the things I can change and accepting of the things I cannot.  

Bechtold News:
Zoe is LOVING school, which is no surprise, she's always loved school.  She has gotten in trouble for talking, which is also no surprise.  I had a dear woman at church ask me the other day if "Zoe was born talking."  YES! she was. 

Noah has started back two mornings a week at preschool.  He's also enjoying it, and only cries a little when we leave him.   The past two weeks he has been in bed before 7:00, if he makes it that long.  It's hard work being such an active little guy.

Zach has started back in gear at Wesley and is as busy as ever, and as exhausted as ever.  Even with how tired he is, I know he is so happy.  He is so fortunate to do what he loves and get paid for it!

I have been busy with trying to get our family into some sort of schedule.  I am getting back into our "School" youth schedule along with starting a Life Group at church and volunteering weekly at Zoe's school.  I love that I am able to do these things. 

I will leave you with a quote from the bedtime story I was reading Zoe tonight, from The Very Fairy Princess:  "Even a fairy princess needs a break, to keep her sparkle from sagging!"

Do what you need to do, to help you keep your sparkle!

Oh Barney...

Another day, another lesson to learn...

The Bechtolds had a great vacation.  It wasn't very long but it sure did pack a punch.  We swung by Plainview on our way home and left the kids at the grandparents before heading back to Las Cruces.  I miss them but we sure are enjoying the peace and quiet.  The test is to see if I can use this time productively instead of napping all day like I want to. Yawn...

During our vacation we were able to attend a Rockies game, something Zach has always wanted to do.  We had a lovely time and the kids did great.  Noah, once plied with sugar, really got into the game, cheering and waving his rally towel like a pro.  Zoe did good but got bored with the game and looked for other ways to entertain herself.  Zoe had a nice older woman sitting next to her that would smile time to time at the children's antics.  Before long Zoe was sitting there, talking like she is prone to do, asking a million and one questions of this poor, unsuspecting woman.  After a while of her just nodding her head to Zoe's queries she leaned over to Zach, and in heavily accented English, haltingly said,"I don't speak English."  Embarrassed Zach tried his best to put a halt in Zoe's barrage of questions.

Sweet girl, never has she met a stranger.  She has her moments of shyness, certainly, but all in all she is open to anyone.  I'm not so open.  It's difficult for me to speak to others and to do so without reserve.  More often than not when I try and force myself to get out of my box I end up regretting most of what I said.  It's safer for me and my mouth to be reserved when I'm around those who may not know me well.

There have been many times that I have been amazed at Zoe's openness and willingness to befriend anyone.  I recall a trip to Walmart that ended in Zoe standing hand-in-hand with a little Hispanic girl who loudly proclaimed her daddy was in prison.  Although slightly confused by what this "prison" thing was, it did not deter Zoe from inviting this girl over to her house someday. 

Those things that may keep me from reaching out to another is so insignificant to my five year old.  Those fears and worries that plague my thoughts aren't present in hers.  She sees people as just that, people. People like her.

I wish I were more like my kids.  Honestly, I can learn so much from them and I hope and pray that my own shortcomings do not rub off too much on them.

May you all take notice of the blessings surrounding you today.

Admittedly blurry pic showing the kids cheering along.