Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

Don’t Neglect the Little Things

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The other morning I was getting ready to leave for work when an unexpected find put a little pep in my previously, exhausted step. It was my third day at the hospital bedside in a string of 12 hour shifts as a critical care nurse, and you can bet your bottom dollar I was going to need all the caffeine my cup of coffee had to offer. I reached into the refrigerator in that early-morning kinda daze, grabbing for my favorite creamer, even as I knew the bottle was dang-near empty.

The morning before when I had made coffee to go, I really only had enough for that particular cup, but realizing I still had another shift left before I could make a grocery store trip, I tried to conserve a bit back for one more morning cup of joe. At the time I had considered leaving my husband a note, asking him to pick some up for me, but I had decided against it. I knew he would have his hands full with homeschooling three girls, doing laundry, making meals, and all the other tasks he performed at home. It wasn’t a big deal, after all. So, I had saved myself a swallow of French Vanilla for the following day, and it was this prize portion I reached for on the day in question.

I held the empty bottle of creamer in my hand, but before shutting the fridge I glimpsed a brand new bottle that I knew had not been there before. Despite the fact that I had decided against asking my spouse to take time out of his day to buy me creamer the previous morning, he had done it anyway. He had taken the time to notice my brand of creamer was low, even though he used another kind that was totally full, and then he had made the decision to pack up our three, young children and take them to the store for a single item that I enjoyed. I could do without the creamer. I could even use some of his. But he had made a small, insignificant-seeming decision to purchase me my favorite coffee add-in.

So, after I filled my coffee mug with a happy, healthy amount of cream, I did leave my hubby a note. I left a post-it thanking him for the creamer. Because, you see, it wasn’t just the creamer. It was the fact that he thought of me. He did something inconvenient for himself to benefit me in a small way. He took the time to notice my tiny needs, to consider my preferences, and to show his affection for me through that. Was a bottle of creamer the recipe for a happy marriage? Not in itself. But what it signified, now that was worth something.

Marriage can be hard. Heck, life is hard. There will be huge issues you have to work through and big obstacles to overcome, but in the midst of the enormous stuff, don’t neglect the little things. Cause it turns out, often times the little things add up to be big things. Small tokens of selfless affection over time build a large love between two people. Personally, I left for work that morning still sleepy, but somehow energized with the knowledge I’d be coming home to a man who adored me, and who showed his love for me in a million, tiny ways.

What Does God Say About Husbands Being the Provider?

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I am from the South. The Bible Belt, Southern Baptist, wear your Sunday best to service, South. As such, I was raised in a home with a hard working daddy. He worked hard outside the home, and he spent most off days working hard on yard work, vehicle maintenance, and the like. I never doubted that man loved us deeply, and one of the biggest ways he showed that love was by working himself to the bone to provide. He instilled a strict work ethic in his children, a strong loyalty to family, and I see his teaching in concrete form watching the strength of my little brother. Daddy taught us well, and I mention all this to ensure I’m understood that his role as a provider is still held highly in my memory. He raised me to find a husband who could do the same, be a provider. The church raised me to be a member of a household where my husband is the provider. I started to wonder, as my life has changed over the past couple of years, what does God say about a husband being the provider?

You see, currently I am the breadwinner. I have always made more in a monetary sense than my spouse. I have a college degree, where he does not. I hold a career that is in high demand, where his forte (restauranteur) is a dime a dozen. So, I’ve always been the primary breadwinner, even when I worked part time, but this past year and a half he has taken on the role of full time househusband, while I am the financial earner. We both work, but I provide the finances for the home, something I realize that my upbringing has told me defines “a provider.”

Since my husband no longer provides financially for the family, I have been more interested in what the Bible has to say about that. Not just what man has to say about it, what society has to say about it, or what my Facebook friends have to say about it. In my scriptural research on provision, as it relates to the husband, I’ve found a lot.

I’ve found that man is called to be the head of the family, that he is to love his wife as Christ loves the church. I’ve found where it states the woman is the weaker vessel, and how she must submit to her spouse. I found a verse where it instructed the woman to work at home, but also found one where a virtuous woman brings income to her home, making me realize that specific situations where God instructs bring differing ways of how a woman’s role will look. In all my studying and research, though, I never found any scripture that stated, “a man must provide the money for the house or he ain’t no man!” I just couldn’t find it.

So, what did I find? I found the greatest commandment of all. I found where Jesus states that above all we are instructed to love the Lord our God with all our heart and all our strength, the second being to love our neighbor as ourselves. In this same vein of love I also came across one of my favorite readings in the Bible (1 Corinthians 13), and it states that without love, we are nothing. So how does that mingle with provision?

I can recall my first marriage. My spouse showered me with gifts, expensive jewelry, trips, and fancy dining. We were financially well off, and the world was my oyster. I lacked no “thing,” yet I never felt so less. I desired to feel beautiful, I craved affection, I grasped for a feeling of being deeply loved, but instead I just felt like a roommate. No offense intended to my ex, but he lacked in providing me with the love I needed. The diamonds made me feel loved for a moment, but they didn’t provide the deep affection my heart desired, a love that word, action, and deed provided. All this to say, a man can shower his wife with cash, but according to God, if it lacks love, it means nothing.

I think the world has perverted God’s design for provision. In a harsh world that does require things like food and shelter, we have somehow come to the idea that physical items like a paycheck and large home are all the requirements of provision, but if you’re going to provide for your wife like Jesus provides for the church, then more than a stack of benjamins must be taken into account.

If you’ve been in a loveless marriage then you know what I’m saying. If you’ve been in an abusive relationship you know what I mean. You can have a closet full of designer clothes, roses every day, and vacations to the Bahamas, but if he’s sleeping with his coworker, none of that matters. A woman’s heart requires more than the bills paid, and children require more than good shoes and food on the table. Those monetary provisions are required for life, but so is love if you want a fruitful, thriving life. Any adult who grew up with an absent father, always at work, will tell you a part of their heart is missing. I understand that financial provision is a necessity of life, but I’m just saying that I think we forget that’s not all there is. God does instruct the family on more than who should pay the bills. In fact, I think Jesus tells us not to worry about where our food and clothes will come from. First is love.

I sit out by the pool writing this post. My husband told me to hurry off and enjoy myself before the rain came.

“I’ll watch the girls. You need some time to yourself to relax,” he had said.

Talk about speaking my love language! As I went out the door happily I glanced back in his direction and said, “I love you.”

It wasn’t just the reciprocation of my words he gave me at that moment. I could see the adoration for me in the twinkle of his eyes and the smile on his face. I could feel it in his selfless actions, and I could feel it in my soul. I never doubted his love. I never doubted how beautiful he found me, even as I aged. The night before he had proclaimed it over and over after our intimate time together.

He followed the first commandment of Jesus, and then he followed the second. He loved me like Christ loved the church, and he provided for me daily. He provided love, loyalty, respect. He provided for the care and education of the children, and he provided for the upkeep and maintenance of our home. He provided as the head of our family, providing us with wisdom and leadership. He provided for us as a Godly example of selfless service and love. He provided for our stability, and was forever a calming force in every storm that came our way. He provided the spiritual leadership for our family, and he provided for every need that arose. Me? I was just the breadwinner, the financial provider at this time of our life, and I couldn’t find where scripture said that was wrong. I followed God’s teaching by holding up the arms of my strong husband as he provided for our family in countless ways. We were a team, built up in love, Christ centered, and abundant in the fruits of the spirit, not just something like a healthy bank account and excellent credit score.

So what does God say about husbands providing for their families?

Ephesians 5:25 ESV – Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her

Jesus gave His life for His bride. Would your spouse do the same? Would he lay down his pride and the opinion of others to take on the role that he is most needed to fill for the best functioning of the family unit? Would he sacrifice tradition or public opinion to take on the tasks his family required the most? Would he lay down his own cross, place his wife before every other person, and give her his everything? Provision isn’t just a paycheck, sometimes it’s a life check, providing all the things a family needs, not just a steady income.

Some men show their love by working sunup to sundown. I know for years that’s what my husband did. But provision without love is meaningless. That’s what God would say. Provision is love, no matter how that love is displayed.

A Word for the Working Mom

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I held my eight year old daughter in my arms, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head. She wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffled, and buried herself deeper into my chest. We held each other for a long time.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I had said.

That’s really all I could say. Well, I said other things, trying to explain why it was necessary and such, but I knew that whatever I said didn’t really matter. At the time she just needed me to hold her.

“What if we stop asking for so many toys in the store that we don’t need? Would that help?” She asked.

My heart broke at her comment, so sweet, so naive, and I also felt burdened by Mommy Guilt.

I had not always worked full time, and that was probably part of the problem. Since she had been nine months old I had worked only part time. Desiring to be a mother more than anything we had made the changes to make part time work a possibility for me. It involved my husband working overtime, me picking up something I could work on the side from home, and not indulging in frivolous things. We were a family that believed in a mindset of the husband being the primary breadwinner, and we carried that model out for a successful six years. So my eldest had gotten used to having me around more. My younger children seemed to be adjusting well, but my oldest had been very emotional about me going to work the past month or so.

“I wish you didn’t have to go to work,” she would exclaim!

It tore my heart open.

That’s the thing, you know. Moms have this unique parenting desire to be everything for their children. We want to be the present mom, but also the one that can shower them with presents! And although we know time is more important than anything, that doesn’t change the reality of bills or necessities. I had been a “mostly” stay-at-home mom for six or seven years, but then circumstances had required a change. After much prayerful consideration and discussion I re-entered the full time workforce, and though I found my vocation as a nurse extremely rewarding and satisfying, the challenges of being a working mom were huge.

I wanted to be everything my children needed me to be.

This morning as I was thinking about it I felt the Lord impress this to my heart.

It’s not how much you work, but rather the quality of the time you are home.

I smiled immediately.

Things had certainly changed. Before, when I stayed at home more than I worked outside the home, I was often frazzled and short-tempered. My mindset and reactions to life had changed. I used to strive to be this perfect, homeschooling mom. I kept the house tidy, made homemade meals every night, worked a small business from home (that took up a lot of my time and energy), and still spent quiet time with the Lord. I got my girls involved in classes and sports, went to Bible Study, and made an extra effort to be attractive for my spouse (even though he found me gorgeous, regardless). I was just always trying. Always trying to be everything to everyone. I was stressed to the max!

Many times over the past year (since I went back to work full time), I’ve told my husband, “I work less now than I ever did before!”

And it was true. My work hours (outside the home) had increased, but my endless, pointless striving, spinning on a hamster wheel of perceived self-expectations had slowed.

I stopped trying to be the perfect mom and instead simply enjoyed being a mom.

I let go of the things that weren’t important so I could focus on the things that were.

Now when I was home I was relaxed and enjoyed every moment with my spouse and children. My husband and I didn’t have to try and carve out time alone since he wasn’t working 60 hour weeks anymore. We could parent together, we could minimize our schedule, reduce debt. I could lighten-up, let go of what other people thought, and realize life didn’t have to be perfect to be wonderful.

It was a simple matter of quality over quantity, and the fact was I was a more present mom than I had ever been before. My mind wasn’t elsewhere when I was home. I wasn’t rushing to the next thing, trying to obtain some sort of greatness with my side gigs or reach some great, unachievable level of parenting. I was trusting God more, being patient, not flustered, and enjoying watching my children grow.

Sometimes moms have to work, and that’s okay. I would rather work out of the home a day or two more out of the week than be angry and harried the entire time I’m home. You can still work outside of the home and be a present mom! There are some women who spend every waking moment in the home. Their physical body is there, but their mind is in Facebook, or their heart out with their friends. Years down the road my daughters won’t remember so much how many days a week mom worked as they will the memories of the great times we spent together. They’ll remember the parks, hiking, the beach. They’ll remember the travel, the games, the campfire stories. They’ll remember how mom smiled, laughed, held dad’s hand, and never said “hurry up” once.

Sometimes women are made to feel guilty for working outside the home, but I think our only regret should be not enjoying the time we’re there.

Is It Just Being a Woman, Or What?!

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Today I feel great. More than great, actually. I’ve smiled enough today that the corners of my mouth are sore, but I’m definitely not complaining. It’s nice to come out the other side of a dry spell. I guess that’s what I’ll call it. I’m talking about that barren place of your emotions where you feel empty, where you feel as if you resemble the desert floor when it hasn’t rained in a long time. Dry, open, weeping, even without tears. You’re even too empty to cry.

Last week I experienced a span of days where I awoke feeling downtrodden. In the mornings I would even awake with my heart racing, trying to remember the dreams that had kept my subconscious spinning, the ones that must have had some purpose if they left me feeling so anxious and coming apart. Through the day I would worry on simple issues, the nonexistent problems that I somehow tried to make matter more. I would imagine trouble when it shouldn’t even be a thought, and I guess what bothers me the most about that is it’s the total opposite of who God has created me to be.

One of my down days I actually sat by the pool with a book, my adoring husband beside me, and my darling children playing before me. My life was surreal, spectacular, amazing. So I couldn’t for the life of me understand why I felt so bothered. As I prayed for an answer I felt one come.

This is how I am answering your prayers.

Over the past year especially I had asked God for more of Himself. I wanted to draw closer in my walk with the Lord. I wanted to be used by Him. I wanted Him to rid me of everything that wasn’t in line with that. So it occurred to me that Him allowing me to feel the temporary, intermittent emotions of anxiety was for sure a way to increase my dependence on Him. It wasn’t that I felt He caused these feelings. No. They definitely were not of God or what He intended for my life. Instead they were the side effects of a sinful, fallen world. So while He had all authority and power to break the chains of anxiety and rid me of the spirit of depression, I also saw how allowing these things to touch me drew me into closer dependence and trust on Him. His power was indeed made perfect in my weakness.

Last week I felt like I was running on empty. I wonder sometimes if it’s just being a woman. Or maybe it’s being a working mom. But other times I realize it’s just part of the human condition. Throughout my brief episode of unhappiness I did persist in joy. Did I feel joyful?! No, not really, but under the surface of my visceral emotions flowed a steady stream of certainty. It was the joy of knowing the Lord held me, even if I couldn’t feel it. It was the river of the Holy Spirit, my faith in Him. So many times when I felt hopeless in my emotions I would simply repeat the same phrases to Jesus.

I trust you.

I love you.

Help me.

Slowly I climbed out of the pit, and I am certain the rope thrown to me was divinely woven in patient love. Though I couldn’t see the way out I never let go of that rope, and He never let go of me. I am reminded of the familiar Psalm, Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.

Thank you, Lord, that my joy is here, it has never left, and it never will.

I’m Sorry I Made You Cry, My Dear

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My Dearest Child,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you cry. I know I don’t have a choice right now, but when I saw that the tears were gonna come I almost broke down myself. You miss me; I get it.

When you told me you were sad that I had to work I felt so helpless. I understand this is hard for you, and it’s hard for me too. You’re my baby.

I can remember when you were a fat, six month old bundle of joy. I worked five days a week, and when I came home it felt like we ate dinner and then it was time to go to bed. Saturdays were chocked full of housework and errands, and then Sunday always went by like the speed of light. I hated it!

You! Precious, chubby, smiley you! You were the best thing that had ever happened to me, and all I wanted to do in life was be around you, to soak you up like a thirsty sponge. We figured it out, and I found a nursing position where I could work part time. I got five days a week in a row at home with you. We did that for the next seven years! So believe me when I say this is hard for us both.

I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry you miss me, and while I’m honored that you do, it makes me sad that my absence causes you pain. If it helps any, I miss you too.

Last night after I had held you a long time, dried your tears from your face, and played with your hair, you had asked me a question.

“Will you always have to go to work?” You asked.

I wasn’t sure how to answer. We talked about Heaven, we talked about the present being a drop in the bucket of eternity. We talked about God’s will, His plan for our life and full-time ministry, and then of course we talked about His timing. All heavy subjects for a seven year old, but I know you’re a smart girl.

I don’t know how long I’ll be working full-time. All I know is that sometimes many times moms have to work out of the home to provide for their babies. Daddies too. We work because we love you and we want to provide for you, but never think that Mommy doesn’t miss you too. I do! So very much.

This season where Mommy works more is a transition for us all, my dear. But I know what I’ve been learning from it. And this morning the Lord impressed upon me that you are learning the same thing too.

Often times when a situation is new and hard it’s an opportunity to press even closer into Jesus. It’s a chance to draw from His strength, to depend on Him for your joy, not present circumstances that you cannot change. When things are scary, different, and especially challenging, it’s a wonderful opening to magnify and fortify your relationship with the Lord. Throughout this new season I can see God stretching me and refining me into the daughter He knows I can be. For years now a morning prayer of mine for you and your sisters is this:

I pray, Lord, that they may continue to grow in grace in beauty, but also in strength of character. But most importantly I pray that they will grow in relationship with you. I pray they will be women after your own heart, women who seek your face.

I believe the Lord is using this opportunity to answer my prayers while also refining you into the daughter He knows you can be.

I’m proud of you, always, my firstborn love. I’m sorry I made you cry, but I’m grateful God placed such a tender-hearted, sweet child in my life. Mommy misses you too when I am at work, but know that I am doing what I need to do right now for our family. I know you will remember this change and time of our lives in your future years to come, and I pray the Lord can speak to you great things through it. He certainly is me.

Love,

Mommy

P.S. I’m off the next 3 days!

For the Working Mom

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This morning I rode the long journey of the employee elevator up to my busy floor where patients awaited me eagerly to assume their care, and as I waited I stood in the company of other professional women like myself. We all talked back and forth, and they, knowing I had recently returned from maternity leave, asked about the baby and if coming back was hard.

Of course I agreed it was, but then we laughed about how work was a break from the responsibilities of home life. Which it was. But still… Leaving my young infant, regardless of her crankiness at times, had hurt my mommy heart this morning more than just a little bit. 

The truth was, being a working mom was hard. I stay home with my babies through the week, and I can definitely vouche for stay-at-home mommies. Their gig is crazy hard, it’s true, but there’s something about leaving your children at home that fractures your heart like nothing else. 

Working moms work on more than just their job when they’re away; they also work on taking their mind off not being home. That’s not a simple task. 

To the working mom I would say this.  

I see you. I see you focusing on your job, and giving it your all, even though a piece of you is still at home with your children. That takes skill. 

I see you giving all your energies to other people’s families while someone else takes care of yours. That’s not always easy. 

I see you intent and purposeful in your day while a sick baby is in the back of your mind. Your focus and attention to detail despite your concerns over your personal life is professional and admirable to say the least. But I also know it’s hard. 

I know your heart breaks some days. I know you long to hold your babies in your lap. I know it’s not always a walk in the park to wave goodbye while they cry wailing tears as you go on your way. 

I see you come home late eager to see your children, but greeted only by sleepy, cranky kids eager to go to bed. 

I know your off days are often spent catching up around the house, when all you really want to do is snuggle little people. I see your priorities reevaluated, and even your guilt when you decide to do something simply for yourself. 

I see your tired eyes when you arrive to work after staying up with a newborn or a sick child. I see you struggle through the day in exhaustion, and then I see you fight to stay awake once you’re home just so you can get some quality time in there. Your heart wants time together; your brain wants time with your pillow. 

I know that sometimes you’re dumbfounded as to how your desires can be in two places at once; loving your work at work, but also loving your work at home. I know sometimes you feel like you’re being pulled in two different directions, and you’re uncertain how to feel about that. 

I see how you enjoy providing financially for your family, but how also you enjoy providing hot, home-cooked meals. Those two things don’t always go hand-in-hand without extreme effort. 

So I see you striving and struggling to be the best in both worlds, and often times feeling like you come up short. You feel like you’re failing at one or even both. 

Well…

Don’t. 

I don’t see a failing mom; I see a working mom. I see a woman who is compassionate enough to fully nurture her children, yet strong enough to leave them when she must. And I can tell you from personal experience that getting up and leaving your home when it hurts your heart so much; that takes real courage. So bravo. 

Job well done working moms. You manage to hold two completely demanding roles, yet you pull them off with grace. Though you may not always feel like you do it with ease, you do it. And that says everything. 

Returning to Work After Baby

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All day. All day I felt a melancholy sadness running below the surface, rushing swiftly like a raging river, trying to sweep me away in my own disappointment of time’s cruel passage. Indeed the time had come. Time to return to work. 

First I tried to ward off my dread by counting my blessings. What better way to try and take the brunt of a reality check than by being thankful for what’s in essence a really wonderful life. 

Yet it wasn’t working. Still the knowledge of what was coming picked at me, nagging nastily at my heart. I wasn’t ready. Not yet. 

My baby was still so small, so dependent on me, and my mommy mind worried for how she would respond to my absence. I wondered, almost as an afterthought, how would I respond?

So then I decided busyness was the best course of action. Idle hands and what-not. I taught homeschool to my kindergartener like nothing was amiss. I watched recorded American Idol episodes with abandon, like I didn’t need to prepare myself mentally to get up early, leave my tiny baby at home, and go to work to care for other people’s family. 

But as the clock ticked on, and the day continued to trudge forward with unexpected, reckless speed I couldn’t deny the fact any longer. The time that I had dreaded, that I had pretended wasn’t quickly approaching, had finally arrived. And it had arrived with full force. In fact, it was currently parked on my momma heart. 

The past seven weeks with my baby daughter had flown by. Flown. Some days had zipped by in an exhausted blur, but what I always remembered the most were the quiet moments in the dim light when I would be rocking her, and suddenly I would gaze at her soft, pink face, and I would feel heaven. It would literally seem as if angels had landed in my lap, and manifested glory right there in the form of a sleeping infant. 

  
Long lashes, pursed, pouty lips, and the even breathing of a dream come true. Tiny fingers, perfect toes, and rosy, plump cheeks that begged to be kissed. A miniature thief that had stolen my heart unaware. And now I would be leaving her.

My heart wanted to break. 

I had done it before. Yes. But it never seemed any easier. Though I served in a career of calling, one that held a reward all in itself, it seemed to me as I watched a piece of myself slumbering in my lap, that no joy or comparable satisfaction could match that moment. 

I knew, though. I knew I would get up early and I would kiss my lovely babies goodbye. All my lovely babies. It was what I must do. 

But I also knew this. I knew that I would return, and at that moment the kisses would be even sweeter, the embraces more rewarding, and the love as deep as human souls can allow. 

I had seen it before, and I would see it again. Returning to work after baby was awful and dreadful. But the return home was oh so sweet.