homelife

On Wrestling with Time

Image bethsbarthelemy, , , , 2 Comments

My oldest walked out of our family room to join us at the dinner table, and said, “Oh, I don’t think this was supposed to be left on the stove.” Our eyes all went to the stringy, melted mess of plastic she was holding; it was a Fisher Price kitchen pot from my childhood days. My daughters had been playing Little House in the Big Woods, and naturally, were cooking on our working wood stove. At some point in the hour before, my husband had built a fire and not noticed the plastic pot sitting on it.

Tears filled my eyes and, before I could stop them, spilled onto my face. I got up quickly, and walked down the hallway. It is only a toy, I chided myself. To be crying over a toy, shame. No matter that it has been played with so many hands for dozens of years. No matter that I have childhood memories of playing with that pot, of playing with my brother. No matter.

“We’re so sorry we left the pot on the stove, Mom,” my girls gently watched my face as I returned to the table. “It’s okay, it’s only a toy,” I said. A toy with memories. It’s really just about the memories, it’s about time. How it passes like a vapor, how we are with people in special places and then suddenly, we are not anymore. I smiled at my girls, and we resumed dinner, I setting aside these conflicted thoughts for a later, solitary mulling.

The passing of time. If you have been around here, you will have noticed this is a theme for me, exploring this concept of time and memories and the many conflicted emotions accompanying it. Why is it that I can never be at peace with the passing of time? When will I be able to relive childhood memories without a longing to return to that precious, free, growing season? When will I look at photos from college days, from those frigid winter days of falling in love with Ben without wishing for a brief return to those thrilling moments? When will I see my children as tiny babies and not feel my heart lurch with pain for the fleeting season that is their childhood, under my wings? When will I think of my nephew, reliving the many memories with him throughout his 11 years, and be at peace with seeing him again someday?


As my own years pass, I have realized the answer to these questions, and all the others I have related to time here on earth… is not here, not now. So long as we are walking through time on this broken planet, we will feel the longings and lack of peace. The passing of time, and the joys of days gone, are part of the curse’s cosmic effect. How else can we explain it? When I think of Adam and Eve in the garden, back in earth’s earliest days, communing with each other and with God, I imagine their contentedness, their enduring love, their minds fully at peace and hearts with joy uninhabited. There was no sorrow in life, no brokenness in the world, no personal or cosmic effects of sin. Untainted.

And, oh, but how our lives are tainted, every hour of every day, by all that is broken inside and outside of us. In 1670, Blaise Pascal wrote,

“What else does this craving, and this helplessness, proclaim but that there was once in man a true happiness, of which all that now remains is the empty print and trace? This he tries in vain to fill with everything around him, seeking in things that are not there the help he cannot find in those that are, though none can help, since this infinite abyss can be filled only with an infinite and immutable object; in other words by God himself” (Pensées).

Ah, but here are wise words as we mull over these complicated thoughts. Perhaps, as in many aspects of life, this longing for bygone days, these sorrowful emotions over time, can be yet another opportunity to lead us to the heart of God; another realization of our vast need for him. Yet another opportunity to turn our eyes toward him.

As I write this, we are in the middle of the Lenten season leading up to Easter. Though often an unfavorite time of the Christian year, it has become one I have grown to value. The denying ourselves of what has become easy, cheap joy. The removing of extra distractions. A short-lived monastic experience, really, where we are living with more awareness of our lack and our need, of our pain, and from where our joy truly comes. In other words, during Lent, we are looking over the edge of that infinite abyss, feeling the cold air rising around our faces, and reminding ourselves that yes, there is a way out of this.

It’s coming. God, in the fullness of love, will through his risen Son fill that vast abyss, in both the wide earth and our private hearts. It doesn’t mean that we still don’t feel the terrifying breeze at times, or ache from the remains of a life empty, before Christ filled us up.

And so, when I am on the edge of time’s abyss, wondering where it has gone and where it is going, I am grateful to be reminded that Christ’s work on the cross is vast enough to redeem not just my heart and yours (though that alone is a wonder!), but the whole of earth with it’s cursed effects. Christ’s work will redeem the time, and while my heart wrestles with the how of this reality, I can be led to the heart of God in the midst of my wrestling. For now, that is where you will find me.

Home as a Holy Space

Image bethsbarthelemy, , , , , Leave a comment

Recently, with winter approaching, I pitched the idea to Ben to open up the long, unused fireplace in our school room. At some point, many years ago, there was a working fireplace in that room, but it was sealed and stacked with shelves where we’ve kept the kids’ toys and puzzles for the past five years. Always the pragmatic one, Ben responded with a look and few words addressing the obstacles, largest of which is that we do not own this home. After countering back with my thoughts on these practical concerns, I asked, with emphasis, “But how would having a fireplace make you feel?” (To which, he laughed, I being the more feeling one of us).

But the thought of the heat a fire could bring, the crackling of wood, the smokey aroma, the overall vibe – he could feel that, as we talked. And the thoughts of the warmth and joy and comfort it would result in, beyond the aesthetic beauty and practical concerns, led us to begin working on it.

Homemaking – that is to say, the making of a house into a home for our family – has mostly been my responsibility over the years. And it’s one I have embraced. From my earliest days as a wife, I loved making our first apartment feel like home to us, back in the days when red was my accent color of choice. In all of the many spaces we have lived over the years, I have not grown tired of the joy and challenge of making our homes warm and pleasing spaces, where our family could dwell together and grow and invite others into our life.

Decorating spaces is not new to humans; as far back as biblical times, we read detailed descriptions of the elaborate tabernacle and temple decorations, and of the artists who were commissioned to work on it (Exodus 31; 1 Kings 6-7; 2 Chronicles 3-4). And we know that heaven will one day be a place of unimaginable beauty (Rev. 21), most of all because Christ will dwell with us there. Beauty and creativity are intricate features of God himself; creating is his work and cultivating is the work he gave to Adam and Eve and all of subsequent humanity.

In other words, when we create spaces of beauty and cultivate our homes as places where the people of God can dwell here on earth, we are imaging our Creator and honoring him.

This is vastly different from the purpose of creating a home that is “on trend,” not that there is anything intrinsically wrong with trendy spaces. The difference is in the purpose; if we are using our creativity only for the end result of how it will look and appeal to our followers on Instagram, we are missing out. But if we are using our creativity to construct beautiful spaces that will better enable us to live in joy and peace with one another, God is honored. If our beautiful spaces facilitate the kind of hospitality which truly welcomes the whole person, where they can feel at rest, at peace, at home, amidst the storms of this world, God is honored. If our beautiful spaces can be a refuge for ourselves and our families, a small kind of tabernacle where God is dwelling among us here on earth, he is honored.

The making of this kind of home takes time, and creativity, and consideration for all of the many purposes for which it may be used. Though a white rug may appeal to me, it will not foster peace when my children come inside with mud-caked feet from their latest adventure. Likewise, though turquoise may not be my wall color of choice, if it makes my daughter feel as though she has a space to call her own in this world, a place where she can retreat and rest and foster her own little sense of creativity, it would well be worth it.

Creating this kind of home can happen anywhere, in any kind of space. We do not need the newest, most spacious home; or the trendiest pieces of furniture or accents. In fact, I have found that creativity blossoms when resources are scarce; I have learned skills I would otherwise have not needed, like woodworking and using power tools. Creating this kind of home is also not only about the aesthetic; it is also about the attitudes and aromas we cultivate. We can create home wherever in the world God has us.

“Remember that He who created you to be creative gave you the things with which to make beauty and gave you the sensitivity to appreciate and respond to His creation. Creativity is His gift to you and the ‘raw materials’ to be put together in various ways are His gift to you as well.”

Edith Schaeffer

To this end, I am convinced that homemaking is a holy pursuit; as I create a whole space where my family can live together in peace and harmony, where we can grow in faithfulness to God and live in obedience and joy, where we can pursue peace and restore fellowship, where we can relish beauty and develop creativity, where we can welcome others with warmth and kindness, and from which we can go out with courage and bravery to love the world in which we live… this home is indeed a holy place.

When Home is not Homey

Image bethsbarthelemy, , , , , Leave a comment

After a long, 42-hour trip with my two youngest, after yet another delay Stateside (this time we can all blame the same thing, no?), after grappling with the grief of leaving yet again, I climbed out of the car, and stepped through the door into my home – to find it smelled, felt more cramped than I remember, and distinctly did not feel like my home. Wait, my mind stalled right there at the door, is this really my home?

This was definitely not the feeling I was anticipating; usually, after a long (or even short) trip anywhere, I love the satisfying feeling of returning to my space, to resettling with my people in our own nook in the world, to the peace and joy and content that comes from just being a place of our own, together.

I suppose, in that moment, there were a couple of possible reactions to my disappointed arrival home: I could conjure all the homey feelings I know deep inside somewhere, and “put on a happy face” until I make it. I could go crawl in a corner and sit in my mournful melancholy for awhile (my reaction of choice had I not four eager children). Or, and what I did, I could unpack all the bags I had brought in a mad rush and attempt to quell the mental storm with the restoring of some small sense of order. Control what I can control, anyone else? Cleaning and organizing always seem to help regulate whatever emotional rush I am currently battling. In the following days, I tackled the deeper cleaning, the washing of all the things, and the random decluttering, and within a week, this house began to feel again like the home I had been anticipating settling back into. I saw with fresh eyes the beauty throughout, the peace and goodness we seek to cultivate within its walls, the potential for love to reign here, in the midst of grief and evil and suffering.

While there are a lot of elements that played into the overall disappointment of that particular arrival home (namely, the use and abuse of our home by others while we were gone), the concept of home has always been a complicated one, particularly for those of us who live outside our passport countries. For Ben and I, we have lived in six homes, in three different countries, over the course of our marriage, and we now can say, after five and a half years, this is the home in which we have lived the longest. There is the struggle that none of these homes we have owned, unlike most of our peers at our age and stage of life.

Even in all of that moving and resettling and renting and non-owning, each of those homes, in their own seasons, have been havens of rest, shelters for us from the raging of the world, and spaces we could open and into which we could bring others. Each new home has called me into a deeper sense of how? can this work for us, for our family, how? can this be a space where love reigns, peace is pursued, and goodness and beauty abound, and how? can we use this to share the love and peace and goodness and beauty of God with others? That challenge – of bringing forth in a space its best utility, and natural beauty, and cultivated peace – has been one for which I have gratefully accepted the transitions.

And for those seasons where I feel rootless, when home does not feel homey, when I wonder when it will be our turn to own, truly own, our unique piece of land in this wide world, I am leaning into the age-old promise that our true home is not found on this earth. That all of this good work of creating homes this side of heaven is a reflection of the Creator who has a home waiting for us – one filled with beauty beyond measure, filled with perfect peace and unending goodness.

In the meantime, you may find me cleaning again, or organizing something. Making our little house a home all over again, thanks to the goodness of God, until someday, we will be truly, forever, home.

Family Routines We Are Loving // March 2021

Image bethsbarthelemy, , , , Leave a comment

`Do you feel like we are in the eye of hurricane, or is that just me? For now, at least here in South Africa, we have more freedom than we’ve had for some time, to see people, to meet as a church, to hold classes in person, to go to the beach or other parks. There’s this lingering sense, though, that at any moment, our restrictions could increase, and these privileges (it’s what they’ve become, no?) may be less accessible. While I have always been a routine-oriented person, my whole family has grown even more grateful for the regular guideposts in our weeks, the pegs on which to hang our hats, if you will. While much feels out of our control, the rhythms we establish maintain a sense of calm, of intention, of expectation. Kim John Payne emphasizes the significance associated with family rhythms: “Meaning hides in repetition: We do this every day or every week because it matters. We are connected by this thing we do together. We matter to one another. In the tapestry of childhood, what stands out is not the splashy, blow-out trip to Disneyland but the common threads that run throughout and repeat: the family dinners, nature walks, reading together at bedtime (with a hot water bottle at our feet on winter evenings), Saturday morning pancakes.”

Monthly dates // It comes at a cost, but Ben and I have realized how much we need to prioritize our time together, to intentionally connect and remember each other. We are almost 12 years into marriage, and the many other commitments and distractions only increase as our time together increases. We’ve noticed that if we are not making intentional efforts at keeping our relationship connected, fun, and fresh, it’s easy to drift apart. So this year, rain or shine, we are committing to at least one date a month (and some months two!). Scheduling it ahead of time helps as we anticipate the joy of being together, recalling the events of the past week or year, sharing our griefs and hopes, and remembering just why we love each other.

Friday cleaning // While we are so grateful to have a housekeeper who resets our home once a week, six people living in a close space means it needs a second clean. In order to teach our children responsibility for our shared home, and the practicalities of how to clean, we have implemented our Friday cleaning ritual. Usually, first thing before school, I bring out the clipboard, write everyone’s names in bright colors with the tasks they’ll need to accomplish, and turn up some inspirational music (Annie’s “It’s a Hard-Knock Life” is a favorite, for some reason 🙂 ). Though the music and fun checklist help, cheerful encouragement is often needed as I skirt from room to room, helping as needed.

Monday parenting encouragement // This past year has felt lonely at times, no? Ben and I have felt the strain of parenting without much support, and at times, felt discouraged as parents. We’re utilizing one of our church’s subscription to Right Now Media to do a short parenting study together. Cups of tea or hot chocolate in hand, we sit down to receive input and teaching, and converse over this immense privilege and responsibility.

Wednesday evening small group // We are grateful that we can meet in person for our weekly small group from our church. We all look forward to gathering for a simple supper, usually soup and fresh bread, and then moving into a time of study and prayer. The younger children wander in and out of our living room while playing, the older ones may sit and listen, or read a book nearby. Tess will often fall asleep on my lap. The time feels sacred, after many months without this privilege, the gathering together of our church family.

Saturday morning pancakes // Not to be cliché, but we do start our weekends with a batch of fluffy sourdough pancakes. The children enjoy taking turns being the “flipper” of the pancakes, an ever important job, and we eat together in our jammies. Though during the week we may need to get an earlier start on our days, the weekend is extra sweet when eased into.

Sabbath // This past year, our family began a formal Sabbath practice, where we pause from most of our daily chores, work, technology, and spending to spend time resting together, following the example of God himself in Genesis and the tradition of God’s people throughout history. With anticipation, we wrap up our work on Saturday afternoon, giving the house one last pick-up, sending that last text, prepping the food for Sunday, and putting the finishing touches on our Shabbat meal for Saturday evening. As we light the candles and break the bread, we exhale from the week, share our highs and lows, and ease into rest with intentionality. On Sundays, we will either go to church (our church meets every other week currently), or on a family walk or to a favorite coffee shop with an area for the children to play. It’s been beautiful and restorative, though it isn’t surprising, is it? God knows what we need.

Sunday movie + pizza night // We end our Sabbaths with our longest-standing family routine – the Sunday night pizza and movie night we’ve been enjoying for five years. We began this routine in preparation for moving overseas, as a point of stability for our children that we could take anywhere. We’ve had pizza and movie nights on different continents, in many different places, and we’re not sick of it yet! Lately, we are enjoying Little House on the Prairie – it’s been fun for Ben and I to rewatch this classic series as adults. 🙂

These are some of our family routines that have helped this past year, as the world around us trembles and adjusts, to keep us grounded together and provide stability. While routines are often regarded as especially helpful for children, I would argue they are also significant for adults, and one of the most powerful ways to simplify our lives.

I’d love to hear: what are some of your most life-giving routines in this season?

On Schooling at Home and Changing Plans

bethsbarthelemy, , , , , Leave a comment

Just in the last couple of weeks, I have had four friends share that they have decided to homeschool this year; and I know that number is growing exponentially as we all seek to make sense of this year. When it seems so much is out of our control, this is one area we actually can take back – our children’s schooling. I totally understand, because at one point, we did too.

Though completely different circumstances, it brings me back to a couple of years ago when we were in a difficult place of sorting out our children’s education. Since before we had children, Ben and I had felt strongly that we would aim to public school them, for convictions beyond the scope of this post. When we considered where in the world to serve in theological education and discipleship, schooling options for our children became a major factor. It was, in fact, one of the deciding reasons why we chose South Africa – for the good government school just up the road from us, where we planned to send our children.

Many of you know the details of our story, but in sum, enrolling our eldest in this school proved more difficult than we had expected, and we would need to obtain an additional visa for her. Additionally, we had our first trip back to the States planned for her first grade year, which would require pulling her out halfway through the South African school year. We prayerfully talked through our options for several months, though our options continued to shrink. In the end, we felt peace about homeschooling for her first grade year, and the decision in and of itself was a relief, though we knew the task was monumental.

This was two years ago, and I can confidently say now that we are grateful for the circumstances which caused us to change course. Homeschooling our children has been an unexpected joy and gift to our family, and though we take it a year at a time, we plan to carry on for as long as it makes sense.

For many families, this change of course educationally is far from ideal; many have made decisions in the past years which is best for their families, and have now had to redirect completely. Not only is this frustrating (“We had figured out what was good for our family!”) but it’s also completely unsettling (“What will this year be like? How will we do it?”). My heart is heavy for our many friends who are navigating this; and yet, I am also hopeful. Thankfully, our God is in the business of bringing good out of hard circumstances. His plans are providentially far better than our best-laid ones.

Maybe in the end, schooling at home will not be the best fit for every family. But perhaps there was a child, or two, who really needed that extra time with Mom or Dad; who needed a break from the social pressures of school; who needed some time to work at his own pace; who benefited greatly from extra free time; who enjoyed a slower pace. Perhaps there are parents who needed to reconnect with their children; who learned more intricately about their children’s strengths and weaknesses; who discovered new passions and fears in their children’s hearts; who needed to die to self more deeply each day to live for Christ; who had more space to disciple the hearts of their children.

And maybe, at the end of this hard circumstance, when COVID is more of a memory, and whatever form of normal has returned, we can look back on these change of plans with gratitude. Though they were hard, there was good. Do we have the eyes to see it?

The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.

Proverbs 16:9

Minimalism is Not the Gospel

Image bethsbarthelemy, , , Leave a comment

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Matthew 6:19-21

To say minimalism is trending would be an understatement. It seems to crop up weekly in conversations. I see articles on the regular:

“25 Reasons You Might be a Minimalist”

“Goodbye things, hello minimalism: Can living with less make you happier?”

“Don’t Just Declutter. De-own.”

I appreciate minimalism. I enjoy purging excess stuff and keeping our home functioning simply. I’ve been told we are “so minimalist” (as a compliment, I think) and I am inspired to keep our material possessions on the fewer side. Currently, on my refrigerator I have hanging a “30 Day Declutter Challenge” which I mean to complete (but have only checked off one).

While the concept may be good, the rumblings of what minimalism can do for you, for me, of what minimalism can deliver to our lives, make me uneasy. From my dabbling in this trendy movement, I’m convinced that we ought be careful of a way of life which promises what it can never actually deliver. After all, minimalism is not the gospel.

A Few Potential Pitfalls

Don’t be convinced your minimalistic lifestyle means you have beaten materialism. Minimalism is not the opposite of materialism. Materialism is defined as “a tendency to consider material possessions and physical comfort as more important than spiritual values.” Just because you may have fewer material possessions does not mean that you are less attached to them.

Rather, consider your heart. Do you love the fewer clothes you have? Are you deeply attached to the few books you decided to keep in the recent purge? Do you love your home for the way it looks, rather than the way God provided it for your family, as a place to grow together and extend hospitality? You can still value your material possessions as more important than spiritual things, even in having fewer of them.

So while we’re busy critiquing our parents’ generation for huge homes, stocked attics and overstuffed garages, we need to take an honest look at our own lives and ask: is our minimalism simply materialism in a new dress?

Don’t expect minimalism to bring you joy. The KonMarie method has received worldwide fame, notably with the suggestion to ask of each item you own, “does this spark joy?” From the first time I heard this, there was unrest in my heart. Not because material things don’t bring me moments of fleeting joy, but because we are espousing a philosophy that leans into our already very human temptation to take our eyes off of the true Source of joy and onto the gifts instead.

J.I. Packer has said of Ecclesiastes that the right foundation for everyday joy [to be distinct from our eternal joy in the gospel] is “in celebrating joy as God’s kindly gift, and in recognizing the potential for joy in everyday activities and relationships” [read further here]. I would rather be looking at my daughters to find a spark of joy, or in my husband’s love, or in nature, or in fulfilling work, and celebrating these good gifts from God in my life, not in that shirt I wore yesterday or the ornate vase I collected from Taiwan. God has given a very material world to enjoy, but let’s be careful to worship the giver and not the gift.

“…human beings flourish and are truly happy when they center their lives on God, the source of everything that is true, good, and beautiful. As to all created things, they too ought to be loved. But the only way to properly love them and fully and truly enjoy them is to love and enjoy them “in God”.”

Miroslav Volf, A Public Faith

Don’t let your minimalism hinder your hospitality and love for others. At the very root of some forms of minimalism is simply selfishness. I want to feel free in my home, I want to clean less, I want my home to spark joy, I like the look of x, y, and z. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve thought, “I should get rid of those kiddy kitchen toys” and yet, why? Because, I don’t like the look of them. But my kids, and a host of other kids, greatly enjoy these toys, and play with them daily. Who would I be serving to get rid of them? Fortunately in my life, I am daily reminded that there are others of whom I need to think, and serve with love, than myself.

Before purging all the extra plates from your kitchen, consider: do you have adequate space for extending hospitality? Is your space warm and inviting, a place that people will want to gather? Far and above any desires for a sparse kitchen ought to be our willingness and ability to host others well, to extend our homes and lives and invite others in. [Read here for convicting thoughts on Christian hospitality].

Let’s not throw the baby out with the bathwater, however. Here are a few reasons why Christians ought to consider living more simply:

  • to better set our hearts on things above, and not on earthly things [Col. 3:2]
  • to better love our neighbors [Mark 12:31]
  • to seek to live more generously [1 Tim. 6:17-19]
  • to offer meaningful hospitality [Rom. 12:13, 1 Pet. 4:8-9]

If these are the reasons for your pursuit of minimalism, to live a life more pleasing to Christ, then by all means, it is a worthy pursuit.

But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into this world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have good and clothing, we will be content with that.”

1 Timothy 6:6-8

And he said to them, “Take care, be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”

Luke 12:15

originally published on June 27, 2018