Category: FemmeFeatures by Bindu Adai-Mathew

The Storm

On By femmefuelIn Best of Bindu Adai-Mathew, FemmeFeatures by Bindu Adai-Mathew, May 2011 (Motherhood)Leave a comment

Steadfast in the Storm

By Bindu Adai-Mathew

As I approached the airport gate with my daughter, I was well aware of the admiring looks and grins I received from my fellow travellers who were staring intently at my daughter. She was perched on my hip with her arms wrapped around my torso, hugging me like a koala bear and looking as cute as a koala bear. Awww, isn’t she adorable! Look at the full head of black hair!

Moments later they laughed as she wiggled out of my arms and began dashing around the waiting area. Awww, look at that ball of energy! Isn’t she so much fun! 

But very soon those looks of admiration turned to sympathy as I chased after my daughter as she darted to and fro through the waiting area, maneuvering quickly and expertly around the feet of other passengers.  Aww, poor Mom…wouldn’t want to be her…

And just twenty minutes later, those admiring/sympathetic glances turned to looks of trepidation and fear as I and my little ball of energy walked down the aisle of the plane, making our way towards our seats. Eyes averted as soon as they saw me, almost afraid to make eye contact. Every time I paused to readjust my purse, diaper bag, or my daughter, I could visibly see passengers stiffen or cringe as they feared I would be taking the empty seat next to them. Seconds later, their shoulders relaxed and they smiled in relief as I continued making my way down the aisle.

I smiled as I noted their reactions. I couldn’t blame them. After all, they had just watched my daughter exert energy that could dumbfound and amaze the most skilled of scientists. But they didn’t know what I knew…that my mom, my mother-in-law, my sister, and I had all prayed…we had prayed fervently in the weeks before my trip.  Praying for a safe journey, but equally, that my 1 ½ year old would be calm and well-behaved as we travelled alone, just her and me. But I wasn’t naïve. I knew the only way she’d be calm and well behaved would be if she were asleep. Fast asleep.

As I took my seat, I smiled as reassuredly as I could to the unlucky passengers who were seated next to us who were doing their best not to look as if they had just been served a death sentence.   

Even as our flight departed, I prayed, hands folded ever so reverently, that my sweet daughter would get sleepy…very, very sleepy…and very, very quickly… My prayer had been answered on my departing flight of this trip, but then again,  I had booked the flight to be at 6am, so that had obviously helped.  But this flight, this returning flight home, was the one I had really been worried about it since it neither coincided with her nap time or her sleep schedule. As I completed my prayer, I glanced down at my daughter, whose face was turned towards mine as she observed me ever so quietly and curiously as I had prayed. She then smiled at me ever so sweetly.  I smiled back. Yes, my prayer was already being answered. She was calm and docile and seemed ready to fall asleep once we had taken off and the cabin lights had been dimmed. Little did I know she was actually giving me a look of sympathy for what she was about to do. It wasn’t the calm I had been hoping for…but rather, it was the calm before the storm.

The first thirty minutes was challenging. As soon as we had taken off, she started. Started what you ask? Started. Everything.

She tried to do anything and everything her little body could do in the few inches of space she could work with. She began by climbing…climbing what you ask? Me. She climbed on me, around me, like I were Mount Everest. She poked, prodded, pummeled me…she jabbed, jostled, and jutted me. You name it, she did it.

 I took those first thirty minutes as a necessary evil. She’s just tiring herself out, I assured myself. She’ll fall asleep…any second. After all, I had prayed, I reminded myself and look upward at God for another quick reminder.  I plastered a smile on my face as I awaited the sleep I had so fervently prayed for to overtake her.

An hour later, she was still wide awake, and if possible, even more energetic. Being confined to such a small area seemed to be the equivalent of harnessing nuclear power. I glanced upwards and said another quick but sincere prayer: Ahem, Lord…sorry to bother you, Lord.  But it’s been 1½ hours now. You see, um, my flight is half-way over now, and Ava is still awake. Wide awake. Please help. Please.

So I waited. And I waited. And while I waited, I felt like dynamite had exploded in my lap. 

She wanted her  bottle. She didn’t want her bottle, she wanted to throw her bottle. At the passenger seated next  to us. At the passenger seated in front of us. At the window. At me.

She wanted to stand. She wanted to sit. She wanted to bounce. She wanted to do all three. At the same time.  Soon enough my arms felt like the uneven bars and my legs felt like a trampoline at a gymnastics competition while she hung, swung, twirled, and twisted.

She wanted the window shade up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Followed by a fascination with the tray table…which she, too, wanted down. Then up. Then down. Up. Down. Then further down.

She wanted her book. She wanted her doll. She wanted her ball. She wanted to throw her ball. At me. At the passenger seated in front of me.

Through it all, I juggled her expertly with my two hands, somehow keeping her entertained while preventing her from injuring herself or anyone seated next to us. The woman seated in front of us, I’m proud to report, left with all of her hair intact despite Ava’s multiple attempts to grab it.

Another 1 ½ hours later, as the plane began to make its initial descent, I was able to distract and entrance Ava with the millions of twinkling lights that shone from houses and light fixtures from miles below. For the first time, she was quiet and calm. She gripped my arm as she looked through the window and then back at me, smiled, and then returned to staring.  I, too, joined, her, enjoying the sweet calmness of the moment while staring mindlessly at the night sky.

Twenty minutes later, after the plane landed with a gentle thud on the landing strip, I noted Ava was still unusually very quiet. I wondered what she was staring at now that we had landed, knowing she was no longer transfixed by the sight of those millions of lights in the night sky. When I finally glanced down, her head was cocked to the side, nestling gently against my chest.  Her thick eyelashes resting like tiny feathers against her cheeks as she slept the sleep of the innocent .

Now??? I thought to myself. She falls asleep now?! I glanced up to see the smiling face of the passenger seated next to me as she looked at Ava and then at me. “Now that wasn’t too bad!”

I threw her an incredulous look and then turned my gaze upwardly as I asked, “What happened God? Didn’t we have a deal?”  But as I did, He immediately reminded me of the inexplicable, uncharacteristic amount of patience I displayed as I handled her like an expert juggler the last few hours. The last few hours, which, honestly, went by much faster than any three hours I had ever spent on a plane. I was tired but not exhausted. I felt expended but not overwhelmed. I smiled. I got it, God. Sometimes I realized, He calms the storm…but more often, I realized, He calms me.

He Calms Me by The McKameys

Troubled waters came my way; the angry storm grew near
I prayed for God to speak the words to make it disappear
It seemed the waves would not obey the master’s call for peace
But then the Lord spoke to my soul; reminded me He had control
And said this time His words were meant for me

——————–(Chorus)——————–
Sometimes He calms the storm; sometimes He calms me
Sometimes the storm still rages on but I feel the sweetest peace
It’s such a joy to know that my Lord knows just what I need
Sometimes He calms the storm; sometimes He calms me
—————————————————-

Circumstance may overtake and bring me to my knees
But when I feel I cannot cope with this life’s troubled seas
I call on him whose voice can still much greater storms than these
His words bring peace into my soul when He says child I’m in control
And with one touch He calms the storm in me

(Chorus)

Sex, Lies, and Motherhood Part II

On By femmefuelIn Best of Bindu Adai-Mathew, FemmeFeatures by Bindu Adai-Mathew, May 2011 (Motherhood)Leave a comment

To read Part I of this blog, please click here.

By Bindu Adai-Mathew

This was it. This was why they had been created. So contrary to what Playboy magazine may try to convince us, women’s breasts were more than just merely decorative. They actually had a purpose (although I had to admit, I could have given Pamela Anderson some competition). So once I came to the accept the fact that my breasts had a true functional role in life other than just to fill out a blouse or create lustful thoughts in my husband, I had to also accept that for the next one year, my breasts were not my own. I was a cow. A cow in its truest, rawest functional sense. One that could produce disease-fighting, health-promoting, immunity-boosting benefits for my newly born spawn. I could be depressed about it or I could try to see myself empowered. I am a woman. I had created this little life. Or more accurately, God had created life through me. I looked at myself in the mirror, placed my hands squarely on my childbearing hips, stuck out my sore breasts in pride, sucked in my stomach (or as far in as it would go in) and repeated as confidently as I could…

I am woman. Hear me moo.

But nursing, or in my case, trying to nurse was not my only motherhood challenge.

Motherhood, I found, was also the end of life as I knew it. And I think for me that was the hardest part. I enjoyed my life. It wasn’t an exciting life. I wasn’t out at nightclubs or at the beach. I wasn’t at parties or bars. Granted, I probably wasted much of my time doing absolutely nothing useful or productive for mankind. I’ll be the first to admit that I probably spent most of my pre-motherhood time languidly lounging on the couch (in a flowing white gauzy robe nonetheless) while staring mindlessly for hours at the television, watching whatever I wanted whenever I wanted.  But it was my time. Mine to decide what I wanted to do and mine to do decide when I wanted to do it. Now “my time” is confined to the four walls of my bathroom, the one place where I can close the doors, have some privacy, have some quality quiet time and find solace.  For 10 minutes.

Motherhood was also the end of another favorite pastime of mine. Sleep. Good old fashioned “put your head on the pillow and don’t open your eyes till morning” sleep. I’m talking the real decadent kind of sleep. The sleep ‘til really, really late in the morning. At least until 9:30am! Now my beauty sleep gets constantly interrupted with my daughter waking up for milk periodically through the night. And by periodically, I mean, at the minimum, three to four times.

Oh, wait, you wonder. How old is your daughter? A year and a half. And she’s still waking up for milk in the night? I thought that stopped at 3 months. Yeah, I reply with a tight-lipped grimace. So did I. Apparently I got the one child out of a 100 that can’t seem to stop wanting milk at night.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, you murmur to me with a shaking of you head. You must stop that bad habit right away. You should just let her cry through the night. Yeah, I reply with a tight-lipped grimace. I should. But apparently I married the one husband out of a 100 who values sleep less than letting his sweet baby girl cry for more than 5 seconds at any given time.

Yes, motherhood was definitely the end of many things for me. Some of which (mindless tv…reading…sleeping…sigh) I really miss. And I’m still reading the same book I bought just days before I went into labor. I’m proud to admit that I am making progress. I have now hit chapter three. At this rate, it looks like I’m at a good pace to finish it up just as we drive Ava off to college.

So why do we do it? Or more importantly, why did I do it?  After all, I knew, didn’t I? I knew. Or at least I thought I did.  The twelve years younger sister aka Little Sis—the very person who was the major reason I was so reluctant to take motherhood on so quickly after marriage. In reality, as much work as I remember my baby sister being, it’s nothing compared to being the actual parent…but today she remains the very reason I know that no matter how much work, how exhausted I feel, how frustrated I feel, how much I have to give up (albeit even unwillingly)…in the end, motherhood is all worth it.

I know that just like that little sibling I so desperately wanted who also came so many years later than I wanted…I now cannot imagine my life without my little sister, just as I now cannot imagine my life without my daughter. Both are blood. Through thick and thin. Through stupid fights and misunderstandings, we have ties that bind us. And although Little Sis is 12 years younger, there are some advantages to that, I’ve come to realize. We have a deal. I changed her diapers, and one day she’ll change mine.

I figure between her and Ava, I’m covered. For life.

Sex, Lies, and Motherhood

On By femmefuelIn Best of Bindu Adai-Mathew, FemmeFeatures by Bindu Adai-Mathew, May 2011 (Motherhood)3 Comments

By Bindu Adai-Mathew

The light, fresh smell of baby powder in the pastel-colored nusery…the sound of a sweet melodic lullaby playing while rocking my baby to sleep in a rocking chair while she gurgles and cooes…days spent gazing in wonder at my most perfect gift from God…

 (now imagine the sound of a record being scratched!)

 Yep, I was NOT one of those women! And I mean that with all respect! I was not one of those women who had sweet, ideal, but let’s face it, basically delusions in my head about what having and raising a baby would be like!  People like my friends who every time they saw a baby would respond “Oooh, I want one!” while I would just smile tremblingly and fearfully and shake my head while responding with “Yeah, they’re cute now, but they’re a lot of work!  A lot.” 

 I knew the truth. After all, I had a sister who was 12 years younger than me. A sister who made her sudden appearance just as I was about to enter wonderful puberty and adolescence. A sister who appeared just as I quit caring that I no longer had a built-in playmate at home…after spending years, 11 years in fact, begging for a younger sibling, my parents indulged me (or so they say…).

 No, I definitely knew the truth. The truth that babies don’t just coo and gurgle all day. That they cry. A lot. For no reason. Or for no reason that you can determine after trying everything under the sun from changing diapers to feeding them. I knew that every time you left with a baby, it was like going on an overseas trip. You had to think of every scenario and pack for every thing. Diapers. Wipes. Changing pad. Diaper Rash cream. Bottle. Spare bottle. Spare formula. Water for the formula. Pacifier. Clothes. Spare clothes. And sometimes even another set of spare clothes. Whew!  As they get older, it gets more complicated. In addition to everything I just mentioned, you also had to pack snacks and toys, and if they’re sick….oh, boy…the list can go on and on…

 No, I definitely knew that babies, as cute and as beautiful as they are…they are a lot of work. A lot. And I warned my friends who didn’t have the benefit of my experience. But did they listen to me? Of course not! Most of them still wanted one! And after they got married…a year or two later, they would each call me with the “wonderful news.” Can you believe that? After everything I told them! And then they would call me and tell me how hard it was. I, being the good friend, I am would listen patiently and encourage them that they could do it while in my head I would be thinking, “Tsk, tsk tsk, didn’t I warn you?”

 No, I knew.

 So eventually, I, too, went on to get married. (sigh). Evenings spent making dinner together and cleaning up together…then hours spent cuddled on the couch while watching a chick flick. Having hot romance novel kind of sex. Every day.

Yep, I was one of those women! Unfortunately, while I had no delusions about children, I definitely had many, many delusions about marriage and what that would be like. But that’s another blog.

 So after I got married and survived the first year of marriage, I started getting hounded by my parents, by my relatives about having kids. The first year it started happening, I would get exasperated and exclaim, “We just got married! Why are you always rushing me! I at least want to be married two years before I can think of kids!” 

 Then the second year came and left, and then I would smile and say, “We’re just not ready yet. Two years went by so fast…I just want to enjoy marriage.” 

 Then the third year came, and my twelve years younger sister started asking me about kids, and I would look at her incredulously and ask, “Do you have any idea how much work you were as a baby and a kid? Oh, you don’t, huh? Well I DO!  YOU are the reason I am waiting until my last egg can be fertilized before I can consider having a kid!” 

 Then my fourth year came and went, and while my parents remained silent and just give me their saddest, most forlorn puppy dog eyes, my relatives would not hold back: When are you going to have a kid? What are you waiting for? You’re getting old…who is going to take care of you when you’re old? I would look downcast and shrug my shoulders and say, “It’s not up to me…it’s up to God.” And then they would look uncomfortably at each other and then sympathetically at me and gently pat me on the shoulder, “Don’t worry, Bindu-mol…it will happen. We’ll pray for you.” 

 Hey, don’t judge me. It’s not my fault that they jumped to the conclusion that I was trying but nothing was happening! I did what I had to do to get them off my back! After all, I knew! Besides, for all of their well-meaning intentions, where would they be for those 3 am feedings? Yeah. Exactly. See…I knew.

 But the fifth year came…and finally I had to ask myself…why aren’t I having kids? Sure, it’ll be a lot of work. But heck, my parents did it. My friends are doing it. I can do it. It’ll be a lot of work, but at least I will not be surprised that it’ll be a lot of work. I will be prepared. After all, I know.

 So on October 14, 2009, beautiful Ava Marianna Mathew was born into the world! The first two nights, it was something unlike anything I had imagined! To my surprise, motherhood was just like the storybooks. The fresh, light smell of baby powder…the baby soft skin that I couldn’t stop touching. The unbelievable feeling of wonder every time I looked at this tiny, tiny baby whom I had talked to endlessly while she had been in my stomach for 9 months. It was perfect.

I found myself energetically getting up when she cried in the middle of the night. I found myself not feeling tired although I had just given birth hours before. I was amazed. This wasn’t as bad as I thought!  I had been wrong about motherhood!

My mom arrived my last day at the hospital, just in time to help us transition to home. She watched Ava at nights, so I could catch up on sleep. She bathed Ava. She completely took care of Ava.

So what was I doing, you ask?  Well, thank you for asking. I nursed. Or at least I tried to. I tried to nurse a crying baby who didn’t want my over-sized breasts. My oversized Triple XXX boobs that should have easily been overflowing with milk and honey. Ava would suckle for two seconds and didn’t get what she wanted and then screamed. Loudly. Very loudly. So I gave up trying to directly nurse her and went for the breast pump. I secluded myself in my master bedroom, attached these suction cups to my sore boobs and awkwardly waited for the tiniest drop of milk. And waited. And waited. I would glance around the room, looking for something to focus on while trying to ignore that awkward, uncomfortable tug of the suction cup around my nipple. Until I caught my reflection in my dresser mirror. My hair was a tangled mess, sticking out in every frizzy way possible. I was sitting in my pjs, still looking 5 months pregnant (which is only cute when you really are five months pregnant), with these futuristic gadgets attached to my boobs. I not only felt like a cow. I not only looked like a cow.  I was a cow. Not one of those metaphorical, low-self-esteem feelings of cow-dom. But an official, true-to-life cow. Being milked for every bit of nutrition that my body could officially produce. A cow. A real, real cow.

To be continued…

It Is Finished

On By femmefuelIn April 2011 (April Showers...), FemmeFeatures by Bindu Adai-MathewLeave a comment

By Bindu Adai-Mathew

In contrast to the “very serene, alive, white pure place” AbbyA described in her blog yesterday, I want you to imagine the opposite. I want you to imagine a dark, dingy, dirty prison cell. The cement floor is cold and clammy, and the cement walls are filled with crevices, filth and small creatures you’d prefer to not think about.  As you lay on your filthy, stained, uneven mattress, you stare at the rusted iron bars, believing they are the only thing that separate you from freedom and happiness.

But one day a prison guard comes by to personally visit you and tell you that you have been bailed out. You watch as he takes out his skeleton key and inserts it into the lock. You can hear the click of the lock as it turns to its unlocked state. You see the guard slide open those rusted iron bars, and with a flourish of his wrist, he let’s you know you are free…

Yet you remain. Paralyzed. Sitting in the filth and excrement of your past, allowing it to immobilize you and imprison you and rob you of your present and future.

In chapter 19 in the book of John, the disciple John describes a similar scene of someone who looks like they were about to be robbed of their future.

28Later, knowing that all was now completed, and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” 29A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. 30When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.”

Almost two thousand years ago, to everyone, including many of the disciples that had followed him, things did not look good for Jesus.  He who proclaimed to be the Son of God who came to save the world couldn’t even save himself. He was beaten brutally by the very people whom he came to save and left to die on a cross like a common thief. Things definitely did not look good for Jesus almost two thousand years ago.

For those who put Jesus to death and heard Jesus’s final words, “It is finished,” they probably would have whole-heartedly agreed that yes, it was finished. It was over. He/Jesus was finished.

And for those people, for their limited perspective, yes, it was over.

But we know now, don’t we? We know that the only thing finished was death….hopelessness…

So as you sit in your personal mental prison cell, what is imprisoning you? Hurt? Bitterness? Disappointment? Do you feel so overwhelmed by your pain that even though the door has been left wide open for you to walk into freedom, you prefer the familiar pang of your pain?

To you who feels hopeless…to you who feels unworthy…to you who feels empty…to you, I say, “It is finished.”

You have been bailed out. You do not have to remain where you are. You may feel that things are hopeless…but two thousand years ago, things also looked very hopeless.

But we know the truth…It was not finished…Life had just begun.

AbbyA

When Life Feels “Meaningless”

On By femmefuelIn April 2011 (April Showers...), FemmeFeatures by Bindu Adai-MathewLeave a comment

By Bindu Adai-Mathew

According to major studies by organizations, such as the National Mental Health Institute, the World Health Organization, and the World Bank:

  • Approximately 18.8 million American adults, or about 9.5 percent of the U.S. population age 18 and older in a given year, have a depressive disorder.
  • Nearly twice as many women (12.0 percent) as men (6.6 percent) are affected by a depressive disorder each year. These figures translate to 12.4 million women and 6.4 million men in the U.S.
  • Women between the ages of 25-44 are most often affected by depression with a major cause of depression in women being the inability to express or handle Anger.
  • Depression affects all people regardless of age, geographic location, demographic or social position.
  • Depressive disorders are appearing earlier in life with the average age of onset 50 years ago being 29 whereas recent statistics indicate it at just 14.5yrs in today’s society.
  • Depressive disorders often co-occur with anxiety disorders and substance abuse.
  • A recent study sponsored by the World Health Organization and the World Bank found unipolar major depression to be the leading cause of disability in the United States.

Few of us can claim to have never been depressed at one point in our lives. Whether it’s induced by stress, job loss, divorce, abuse, hormonal imbalance, many of us have felt the overwhelming feelings of hopelessness and meaninglessness that often accompanies depression. While the actual statistics on depression may vary from year to year, one of the stats above doesn’t seem to change: Depression affects all people regardless of age, geographic location, demographic or social position. 

That means depression can affect you whether you’re rich, poor, married, single, young, old, etc. With over 18 million people in the US alone suffering from a from of depression, depression discriminates against no one.

 In the Bible, we are told how Job was truly in despair after he lost his family, his fortune, and even his own health. He was understandably depressed…no one would blame him for being depressed. In fact, if he weren’t, we probably wouldn’t think he was human.

 But what about those times when we know we have so much to be grateful for but still can’t seem to shake those blues that seem to hover over our heads like a dark cloud, following our every move? What if we seem to “have it all” but still cannot help but feel like something is missing. Well, again, we are not alone. In the Bible, there is a person who had it all…riches, power, women (900 of them), and even wisdom…and at one point, we also know he had a close relationship with God…but in the book of Ecclesiastes, we see that even King Solomon with all of his earthly blessings also went through some form of depression.

2“Everything is meaningless,” says the Teacher, “completely meaningless!”

3What do people get for all their hard work under the sun? 4Generations come and generations go, but the earth never changes. 5The sun rises and the sun sets, then hurries around to rise again. 6The wind blows south, and then turns north. Around and around it goes, blowing in circles. 7Rivers run into the sea, but the sea is never full. Then the water returns again to the rivers and flows out again to the sea. 8Everything is wearisome beyond description. No matter how much we see, we are never satisfied. No matter how much we hear, we are not content.

9History merely repeats itself. It has all been done before. Nothing under the sun is truly new. 10Sometimes people say, “Here is something new!” But actually it is old; nothing is ever truly new. 11We don’t remember what happened in the past, and in future generations, no one will remember what we are doing now.

12I, the Teacher, was king of Israel, and I lived in Jerusalem. 13I devoted myself to search for understanding and to explore by wisdom everything being done under heaven. I soon discovered that God has dealt a tragic existence to the human race. 14I observed everything going on under the sun, and really, it is all meaningless—like chasing the wind.

15What is wrong cannot be made right.

What is missing cannot be recovered.

16I said to myself, “Look, I am wiser than any of the kings who ruled in Jerusalem before me. I have greater wisdom and knowledge than any of them.” 17So I set out to learn everything from wisdom to madness and folly. But I learned firsthand that pursuing all this is like chasing the wind.

18The greater my wisdom, the greater my grief. To increase knowledge only increases sorrow.

Here is a man who had everything. He was King. He was wise. He was respected. He was favored by God. He experienced things that most of us could only dream about. Yet, he tells us that everything…not just money…not just love…but everything is meaningless…He reigned nearly 1000 years before Christ’s birth, which is about 3,000 from today…yet even then he felt that there was nothing new under the sun…that even when someone thought that something was new, it was actually nothing new. Here is a guy who was renowned for his wisdom who has come to the conclusion that nothing matters.

But to whom who nothing was spared, he felt just as lost, just as confused, just as unhappy and empty as those of us today who keep thinking “if only.”   If only we had more money…if only <fill in the blank> would change…

Throughout the book of Ecclesiastes, King Solomon points out the ironies and futility of life, and while that doesn’t change throughout the book, his observations lead him to some very important truths:

9What do people really get for all their hard work? 10I have seen the burden God has placed on us all. 11Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end. 12So I concluded there is nothing better than to be happy and enjoy ourselves as long as we can. 13And people should eat and drink and enjoy the fruits of their labor, for these are gifts from God.

 He concludes that chapter by saying,

18I also thought about the human condition—how God proves to people that they are like animals. 19For people and animals share the same fate—both breathea and both must die. So people have no real advantage over the animals. How meaningless! 20Both go to the same place—they came from dust and they return to dust. 21For who can prove that the human spirit goes up and the spirit of animals goes down into the earth? 22So I saw that there is nothing better for people than to be happy in their work. That is why we are here! No one will bring us back from death to enjoy life after we die.

He later concludes the book of Ecclesiastes in chapter 12 by saying:

8“Everything is meaningless,” says the Teacher, “completely meaningless.”

9Keep this in mind: The Teacher was considered wise, and he taught the people everything he knew. He listened carefully to many proverbs, studying and classifying them. 10The Teacher sought to find just the right words to express truths clearly.a

11The words of the wise are like cattle prods—painful but helpful. Their collected sayings are like a nail-studded stick with which a shepherdb drives the sheep.

12But, my child,c let me give you some further advice: Be careful, for writing books is endless, and much study wears you out.

13That’s the whole story. Here now is my final conclusion: Fear God and obey his commands, for this is everyone’s duty. 14God will judge us for everything we do, including every secret thing, whether good or bad.

In the end, it all comes back to God, doesn’t it? Human life can be futile…it can seem pointless and meaningless at times…but in the end, it is the life we are given. It is our fate…and the best we can do is to enjoy our hard work and enjoy this life…our life.

As a new mom, I think one of the gifts that children give us as adults is the ability to see life as new again. By the time most of us reach middle age, we feel embattled…exhausted…overwhelmed by life…life somehow seems to lose some of its meaning and wonder. But during those moments, try looking at life through a child’s eyes…their first Christmas…their first Easter…their first birthday…their first time at Disney World…their first day at school…

We celebrate all their firsts…but I wonder, is it really just for them? Perhaps we, too, can momentarily adopt their eyes of wonder and remember a time when life seemed new and exciting…and limitless…

Remember that first day of college? When you felt like anything and everything was possible? Remember your first place? It may have been small, but it was still yours…and you knew it was just the beginning…

Remember your first kiss? Your first love…

Remember your heart racing when your saw your husband for the first time? Or how excited and nervous you felt on your first date…or the first time you knew he was the One?

Remember the day you found out you were pregnant? Or the feeling that overwhelmed you when you first heard your unborn child’s heartbeat at your doctor’s office…the steady rhythmic beat bringing you to tears and wonder, reminding you that life is a gift.

Like the autumn winds after a scorching hot summer, may some of those memories of your “firsts” refresh your spirit…

For while this life may often feel meaningless, there is beauty all around to be enjoyed…to be re-experienced. For it is our fate…our days are numbered…enjoy your work. For remember, even God on the 7th day rested. He looked back on His work and said, “It is good.”

Reflecting on That Thing We Call “Luck”

On By femmefuelIn FemmeFeatures by Bindu Adai-Mathew, March 2011 (Luck v. Faith)Leave a comment

By Bindu Adai-Mathew

Just like September 11, 2001 or the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated (November 22, 1963), most of us probably have a good idea of what we were doing on October 3, 1995. The exact date may not initially ring a bell, but most of us probably remember where we were when we heard the following announcement:

“…In the matter of People of the State of California versus Orenthal James Simpson, case number BA097211. We, the jury, in the above-entitled action, find the Defendant, Orenthal James Simpson, not guilty of the crime of murder in violation of penal code section 187(A)…”

 I was at work, my first real job fresh out of college, and the director of our corporate communications department had turned on the bulbous television set that was nestled in the corner ceiling of her office while the rest of her team gathered around under it, each of us holding our breath as we listened with bated anticipation.

 After the verdict was read, I blinked my eyes reflexively in disbelief at the television screen. Surely I hadn’t heard correctly. I jerked my head towards my co-workers, but the stunned expressions on each of my co-workers faces, combined with the gasping, the shaking of heads in dismay, confirmed what I still couldn’t seem to fathom: OJ had actually somehow managed to get away with murder even though everyone (except those in denial of course) knew he did it.

For years later, any time OJ’s name came up, someone would invariably shake their head in disappointment and mumble the words we had all at one point thought: “He got away with it…I can’t believe he got away with it…”

 If any of us were asked what we thought of OJ and his ability to be acquitted despite the mountain of DNA evidence against him, our response would probably be:  “He is the luckiest (add your own noun or expletive) I’ve ever seen!”

Flashforward to the year 2008. And OJ has been accused of burglary and kidnapping…and sentenced to 33 years in prison, 9 years of which he has to serve before he could be considered for parole.

 Irony?  Perhaps.

 Justice?  Maybe for us…but certainly not for Nicole’s family or to Ron Goldman’s.

 If asked, “Is he still ‘lucky?’” Most of us would reply with a snicker, “Not anymore!” Some might add, “His luck finally ran out on him…” 

 Christians may argue that luck is just another word for what we call grace (unmerited favor) or even God’s mercy….or perhaps just a form of deferred punishment.  It’s easy to think of that definition in terms of most of our lives…but what about that unrepentant soul who has, at least on the surface, no interest in God or anything spiritual? And what about those people who despite all their cheating, lying, bad behavior, who somehow manage to escape God’s swift Hand of Judgment and not only manage to do well, but dangit, they prosper!

 It’s times like that when there seems to be no other word to describe a person or situation that we just can’t help but label them “lucky,” and it’s also then when I’m typically also a little green with envy as I look at my own life and wonder what I lack that I don’t seem to have the same good fortune.

Some people just seem to be born with luck…sometimes it seems they have an invisible magnet that attracts attention, success, and/or money.  It’s a quality that seems to help them prevail despite all odds and despite all their bad choices. Even in their downward spiral, they still manage to garner some weird sort of triumph.

 Case in point…Charlie Sheen.

Yeah. Exactly!

He’s all in the headlines, and you cannot watch one television station without his name coming up. Since he was in his 20s, Charlie’s behavior has been deemed extreme by even the most liberal in Hollywood and he has endured many shaking of heads in disapproval. Yet, despite it all, he somehow continually manages, time and time again, to land on his feet and not only do well, but dangit, prosper. 

 He’s the highest paid actor for a sitcom in which he, in my opinion, doesn’t even have to really act. I saw a recent episode of Two and a Half Men to see what all the fuss was about. The show featured his character as a playboy and in that episode, his character was sleeping with prostitutes and had a ménage a trios…all in one episode. I felt like I was watching a biography of his life on E!’s True Hollywood Story. So basically he was getting $2+ million an episode on Two and a Half Men for being himself…

Granted, in Charlie’s case, I am talking about “luck” in terms of money.  But he does seem “lucky” in that sense, especially in comparison to the rest of us who often spend up to 10 hours a day, working at a job that we’re half-hearted about, as we try to make ends meet. Somehow even in his manic/drug-induced/whatever-you-think-it-is state of mind, he has garnered so much attention for himself…he is talking and people are listening. In 24 hours of opening a twitter account, he managed to set a record amount of approximately 1 million followers.

Undoubtedly, Charlie has some serious problems (mental, emotional, and no doubt spiritual), but on the surface, he does seem to be…as he himself proclaims…WINNING!  (Sorry, I couldn’t resist!)

But it’s not just the Charlies and OJs of the world that seem to have varying degrees of luck. We all have known or observed people, who, like them, seem to have the ever inexplicable qualities of “luck.”

For the rest of us who struggle daily in life and can’t help but wonder where our dose of luck is, I point you to the scriptures, where even thousands of years ago, people, too, struggled with how undeserving/evil/wicked people seemed to just prosper in the wake of their evil deeds:

Psalm 73

A psalm of Asaph.

1Surely God is good to Israel,

to those who are pure in heart.

2But as for me, my feet had almost slipped;

I had nearly lost my foothold.

3For I envied the arrogant

when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.

4They have no struggles;

their bodies are healthy and strong.a

5They are free from the burdens common to man;

they are not plagued by human ills.

6Therefore pride is their necklace;

they clothe themselves with violence.

7From their callous hearts comes iniquityb;

the evil conceits of their minds know no limits.

8They scoff, and speak with malice;

in their arrogance they threaten oppression.

9Their mouths lay claim to heaven,

and their tongues take possession of the earth.

10Therefore their people turn to them

and drink up waters in abundance.c

11They say, “How can God know?

Does the Most High have knowledge?”

12This is what the wicked are like—

always carefree, they increase in wealth.

13Surely in vain have I kept my heart pure;

in vain have I washed my hands in innocence.

14All day long I have been plagued;

I have been punished every morning.

15If I had said, “I will speak thus,”

I would have betrayed your children.

16When I tried to understand all this,

it was oppressive to me

17till I entered the sanctuary of God;

then I understood their final destiny.

18Surely you place them on slippery ground;

you cast them down to ruin.

19How suddenly are they destroyed,

completely swept away by terrors!

20As a dream when one awakes,

so when you arise, O Lord,

you will despise them as fantasies.

21When my heart was grieved

and my spirit embittered,

22I was senseless and ignorant;

I was a brute beast before you.

23Yet I am always with you;

you hold me by my right hand.

24You guide me with your counsel,

and afterward you will take me into glory.

25Whom have I in heaven but you?

And earth has nothing I desire besides you.

26My flesh and my heart may fail,

but God is the strength of my heart

and my portion forever.

27Those who are far from you will perish;

you destroy all who are unfaithful to you.

28But as for me, it is good to be near God.

I have made the Sovereign Lord my refuge;

I will tell of all your deeds.

Amongst all the insane coverage on Sheen, I saw an old clip from an interview with him almost 10 years ago. In it, he’s lucid and talking about how early success, fame, and money, although it was what he craved and what all Hollywood celebrities strive for, are ultimately what led to his addictions and bad behavior.

As I listened to the interview, I realized that I, too, was lucky, but just completely in the opposite way of Charlie.

I’m lucky to have had old fashion, overbearing, unhip, uncool parents who didn’t given into my every whim and expected nothing less from me than the best…

I’m lucky to have had to struggle and work hard for each one of my successes so I don’t take them for granted and waste them away as if they were my inherent right rather than the unmistakable sign of God’s goodness…

I’m lucky that I have a husband whom I occasionally want to strangle because he frustrates and challenges me, inevitably forcing me to become a better wife, mother, and person.

 And most of all, I’m lucky to have a God who hasn’t given me so much “luck” in life that I have to discover a life here on this earth or an eternity without knowing Him…

 So when the green-eyed monster rears its ugly head and you find yourself envying someone who is undeservedly “lucky,” remember, that maybe you’re not as lucky in the same exact way…but you are loved by a God who keeps you 100% dependent on Him…and in the end, maybe that’s what makes you truly “lucky” after all…

 

How Present Are You?

On By femmefuelIn FemmeFeatures by Bindu Adai-Mathew, Transform YourselfLeave a comment

 

By Bindu Adai-Mathew

image

There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

                                         a time to mourn and a time to dance,

                                     a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

                                       a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

                                     a time to search and a time to give up,

                                      a time to keep and a time to throw away,

                                   a time to tear and a time to mend,

                                  a time to be silent and a time to speak,

                               a time to love and a time to hate,

                              a time for war and a time for peace.

                             Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8

We all have seasons in our lives. Some that we wish would last forever…and others that we are just dying for them to be over.

I remember being in elementary school, and I just couldn’t wait to be older. How cool was junior high going to be when I would have my own locker and be changing rooms for each class! But once I reached junior high, I couldn’t wait to be in high school, convinced that once I learned to drive, my life would drastically improve in the “cool” factor. In high school, I couldn’t wait to be in college, and in college, I just couldn’t wait to be in the “real world,” earning my own money and being on my own. But once I hit the “real world,” I just wanted to go back to college, finally realizing then how good I had had it all along.

You’d think I’d learn from that, but no, I still managed to “wish away” my entire twenties. Rather than taking advantage of the fact that I was single and free to travel, free to do anything I wanted, I, instead, sat around moping and co-lamenting with friends for hours on the phone, in person, over dinner, on how I was dying to be married, convinced that only then (yeah, go ahead, roll your eyes) would my life really begin…

Even now as a new mom, as much as I enjoy my little girl being a baby, I sometimes get too focused on her reaching her next milestone. When she was a newborn, I was so excited for the day she would smile back at me rather than give me one of her gas-induced smiles. I was initially so excited when she started rolling over, but then I quickly got over that one and found myself skipping over a couple of milestones, longing for the day when she would “understand” that I needed her to be still when I changed her diaper. I couldn’t wait for her to crawl, then walk, but then I couldn’t seem to help but long for the day when she would be old enough when I would no longer have to worry about where she was every second of the day for fear she was about to hurt herself in some way. I often forget to truly relish those moments and behaviors that still signify her as a baby. Because I know one day, I will look back and miss the little baby she once was.

It’s good to be excited about the future. God wants us to be excited about the future…but not to the extent that we truly don’t relish what we have at that moment…because one day, that might be the very thing we “wish” for later…

So how present are you in the present?

Take a moment right now for yourself. Close your eyes (after you finish reading the rest of this, of course). Take a deep breath in. Slowly. Now breathe out. Take another even slower, deep breath in. Breathe out slowly. One more time…

Reflect on what God has blessed you with today. Savor it. Enjoy it. Despite whatever struggles you have, God has given you many things for which to be grateful. So be present in this moment, for it like everything, will soon pass.

Lord, thank You for today. Thank You for what You have given me…today. Lord, help me appreciate everything You have blessed me with, for Lord, Your mercies are new every morning. Lord, help me slow down…help me be still and know that You…YOU are God.