I used to think it was age that defined contentment. Now I realize it’s attitude.

I was certain once I hit 30 years of age I would be content.

Satisfied.

Happy with life.

Life equals good equals no more looking for the outside to fulfill the inside.

I was certain that would be the case.

I was wrong.

I am about to hit 40 in a year.  So, I guess “about to” is a bit exaggerated.

Anyhow.  40 is around my corner.  A few miles off (or kilometers, depending on which side of the world you are reading this) and I have come to the beautiful conclusion that age does not bring about contentment.

Attitude most certainly does.

We continue to live in a rented home and I don’t have the Jeep that I really, really want.

My belly remains squishier than I desire.  My bank account smaller.

My bedroom doesn’t have a closet, and I really only fit in one pair of jeans.  Unless maternity jeans count.

And as I look at everything around me, I am just so plain content it’s crazy.

When I was younger, I was certain that life would begin at 16.  That is until I turned 16 and realized that life began at 18.  But then I turned 18 and realized life didn’t really begin until 21.  21 came and I was certain that adulthood began at 22, along with the disappearance of my acne.  Both didn’t occur.  Well, I guess I grew up a little, you know, getting a professional job and all…

But 22 came, and that is when I was 100% without a doubt certain 25 must be the age of magical, grown-up, beginning.  And, even though I was married and now living in a foreign country at 25, 25 just didn’t seem to be that age.  30…Finally with a baby in our life.  Nope.

But as I near 40…what many call “Over the Hill”…I smile.

And I look back 38 years and see.

I see the little girl that had a muddy, sand-filled, boy-chasing, big-mouthed childhood.  And I love looking there.

I look back to the awkward teenager, too skinny, with braces and absolutely horrendous hair.  Still a big mouth.  Rather athletically talented.  And I love looking there.

I look back to the young adult, still too skinny, sinking grades, tumor at the base of her brain, and dating a guy she might just possibly marry.  I look back to that girl that bought her first car with the help of her parents and the one that moved away and back home again.  I look back to those young adult years and I love looking there.

And then I look at my married years.  Exciting.  Fun.  Adventurous.  Hard.  Compromise?  Say what!?  Different country.  Poor as a church mouse.  No car.  Cold.  Walking everywhere.  Different.  And I love looking there.

30 came.  Ah beautiful 30.  I loved turning 30.  With 30 my body changed.  I finally graduated out of the child-size clothes.  I birthed a baby.  I matured emotionally.  And I love looking there.

And the rest of my 30s have gone by with so much trouble and heartbreak and success and excitement, it’s unbelievable how much less than a decade can cover.  And I look at it all.  The sadness and gladness.  The senseless and the secure.  And I realize I am different because of them all.  And I smile.

Even though I always thought that there was a magical age when contentment came and life changed, I learned I was wrong.  Age has nothing to do with any of it.  Attitude does.  That is what I was missing over the last 38 years.  The attitude of contentment.

I love my children’s hand-me-down clothes.  I love our rented house.  I love our 3 dogs—one being a ridiculously ugly farm mutt.  I love our small rooms and no closeted house.  I must admit, I am not in love with my stove nor stove fan (contentment is still obviously a work in progress in some areas, apparently 😉 ).

I love my husband and his graying hair and his endless wit.

I love my daughter despite her idiosyncrasies in being a child of 2 cultures and not much at all like her momma.

I love my son and all of his health issues and all of the money he costs us just to merely maintain his little lungs.

And I love my daughter, my youngest, that came in way too heavy, where I was cut open, and her cheeks that literally melted off of her little face.  The girl that smiles and wrinkles her nose.

Contentment.  It’s definitely not an age.  It is not an item.

Contentment.  It’s an attitude.

And I am glad that I finally got it right.

¹⁹ “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, ²⁰ but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. ²¹ For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. 

Matthew 6:19-21

When you’ve tied your tubes and want another child…

You know, there is a time in your life that you come to. It is a delicate balance of wants and reality.

I am at that stage. Our youngest is now 10 months old. She is as cute as a button. She is just plain lovely. Literally plain lovely. She has the sweetest demeanor. We are definitely going out with a bang!

Yet, our hearts still cry out…another baby! Another baby! Another baby.

I think that there comes a time in your childbearing life when you still want more and yet your reality comes in and says to you, “Be grateful.”

That is where we find ourselves.

So utterly grateful. Beyond measure, really.

Grateful for the three amazing children that God has given us.

And happy. Oh man. I am so stinking happy that I am no longer pregnant.

My last 3 pregnancies were absolutely difficult. This last baby. This sweet and gentle spirit. At 30 weeks pregnant, my water basically was at the point of breaking and I was pretty much fully effaced. It was a rough remainder of a pregnancy. Yet we made it! Woot-woot.

But in the process of making it, we made a BIG decision. At 38 years of age, we were going to be grateful to God for the children that he delivered into our arms and quietly bow out of this game called pregnancy.

And hence, we tied our tubes.

Time’s up for the Nungesser Polish clan and their expansion plan 😉

Oh. Every single day since having our sweet and LARGE (10pounds, 10ounces at birth) Josephine, I feel better, can move more easily, and sleep more.

And as life becomes easier…My memory becomes less.

I forget how difficult my last 3 pregnancies were and how hard it was to bring Maxwell and Josephine into this world. And I begin to question our decision.

Tying our tubes? Was it right for us?

My sister-in-law told me once, “No matter if you have 1 child or 10, when it comes to the point that it is your last child, I think that there will always be something sad in your heart.”

And it is so true. There is a finality to tying tubes. To menopause. To realizing you are done…

So, now I am at the time in my life where I may feel wanting but I also feel grateful.

And overall contentment.

It doesn’t mean that the beautiful spirit of more children may never creep back into my heart or thoughts or desires, but as I sit typing this my youngest two (2 and 10 months—they are 19 months apart), sit on the floor near my feet playing choo-choo trains, and bear puzzles, and xylophone books. And Max just leaned over and patted Josephine’s back as she started to cough and said, “Okay, Gogo?” Because we call her Go-Go…Like a GoGo Squeezer.

And my heart beat fully.

Even with my tubes tied.

absolutely, without a doubt, the right perspective!

oh my dear friends. be prepared to laugh your way through this article i am about to share called give me gratitude or give me debt WHILE truly humbling your spirit and soul.

so many times since we have returned to poland i have GRUMBLED…GRUMBLED…GRUMBLED! believe me, i have just come from the land of mickey mouse—poland is a different life for me right now.

BUT this article brings up a hugely vivid conversation i had in our soup kitchen one day (our soup kitchen meaning our foundation’s soup kitchen: www.breadoflife.pl) with one of the volunteers.

setting: soup kitchen, basement of a church, around 2002 or 2003, poznan, poland.

we were preparing the food for the room full of homeless and elderly, very poor people (especially at that time in poland). it’s a very cold country, so not only was the warm food going to be a blessing but the warm atmosphere a godsend. and i was having a conversation with one of the brightest guys i know.  we’ll just call him mr. phd.  it was a time when poland was in the process of becoming an eu member (2004 they joined). and our conversation went like this:

“people in poland complain all of the time about how poor we are….but we are not poor. we have running water. we have electricity. so many around the world don’t even have those.  we are actually rich.”

now, the people we were serving were obviously not rich.

he wasn’t speaking of those.  he was speaking of the every day man or woman.  He was speaking of those that have but grumble about the “have nots“.

i have found myself being that grumbling person of late.  and it’s not a person that i like very much.

i would like to say that TODAY…today i am so thankful i read this post.  it’s brilliantly humorous with the perfect perspective attached to it.

and, today, after reading it, i hope that you, too, only worry about filling your kitchen with love.  love and dancing.  both simultaneously!

be prepared to laugh while humbling your spirit…

xoxo b

since glennon shared a peek into her kitchen, i will share a photo i took only two days ago (before i read this article) into my own kitchen.  hope you enjoy!

yes, my son, maxwell, in the diaper, was coloring in a book on the ground while eating a dry tortilla for lunch—which he also decided to decorate.  jojo sat in her chair for hours while i made pumpkin puree and apple sauce.  and adelyne…sweet adelyne made homemade play doh.  one recipe batch split into 6 colors.

so much fun in our kitchen!

now, here’s the article from Momastery just for you:

Give Me Gratitude or Give Me Debt!

also, for those of you that battle addictions, i think that you need encouragement from her about page.  Pretty awesome God:  About Glennon!

You could see my naked bum at the palace!

Okay. So it wasn’t my naked bum, but it very well could have been.

You see. I am married to a pastor. And he has been the pastor of an international church for round about 12+ years. And with great strength comes great responsibility. No, wait. That’s Spiderman.

With an international church comes great weddings! Oh, yeah. That sounds more like our slogan.

And a great wedding it was…At the palace in Wasowo, Poland.

You read that correctly. A palace. Pretty spanking awesome, eh?!

Funny thing is, the couple that married, yep. You mine as well call me the matchmaker from Fiddler on the Roof. No. I really didn’t have anything to do with them falling in love, but the guy came from America to work with our foundation here in Poland. And we had him and his teammates stay with us for a week, where they got to go to our church, henceforth meeting his future bride. So, in a very far-fetched round about way, Cody and Zofia, you are most welcome for your love!

Okay, okay.  Again, I had nothing to do with their fairytale romance.  I just love receiving accolades I really didn’t earn.

But back to them falling in love and having their wedding in a palace.  And my bum on display—canvas, mind you—at that palace.

So, we were gifted a room at the palace for the evening, and we were so excited about that.  Excited and very grateful.  It had been a long journey back to Poland.  And then a long first two weeks in Poland.  The travels to the palace promised to be the ice cream on top of our sundae of travels!

Sure enough.  We arrive to a sprawling estate.  Rolling hills, beautiful lake, gorgeous palace, play area for kids, and a wedding spectacular.

We were given our room key.  And we entered.  That’s when I saw it!  The oil painting displayed right next to our bed.

A woman.  About my age.  Naked as the day she was born.  Lying on her stomach on a sofa.  Lounging with her bum for the entire world to see.

To be fair, at the time of the painting, perhaps she thought only her husband would see.  After all, I am sure oil paintings back then were not the “social media sharing” of the century.  Or were they?  Did she know that one day her bum would go viral?  Probably not.

Anyhow, I took one look at that photo.  And then another.  And then I became a student of that picture.  I looked at the woman.  And her body.  And her cool confidence.  No, I am not saying lie around naked and allow others to put you on canvases.

I am simply saying this…She was about my age.  And her body was about my shape.  If not just a wee-bit shapelier.

She had curves.  And she had life (also known as more curves than necessary).

Her bum was not toned and fit.  It was squishy and real.

And I liked it.

I liked that the oil canvas in my room next to our bed was not a photoshopped picture like those you see on display in magazines.

I liked that the original oil painting in our room was an unedited version of a beautiful woman displayed in all of her splendor.

Her real bum was beautiful.  And it gave me just enough pep to take a good look at where my body is today and say, “Brooke, your bum in all of it’s aging glory, its birthed children stretch marks, and it’s inability to lose weight like you did when you were twenty…Your bum is beautiful too!”

Don’t worry, though, Mom.  I won’t hang my bum on an oil painting on a wall in a palace.

Although, now that I think about it, one day, a hundred or so years from now, some woman may think that my bum, in all of its “birth-day” splendor, as inspiring-ly beautiful too.

Richard, go get your brushes and paint!

Our washer and dryer sit on our porch, and I am thankful. Thrilled even!

I love this 30 days of thanks.  I’ve seen many Facebook funnies that have said that it’s the time where everyone else that has been complaining all year takes a break and gives 30 days of thanks.  Well, even if that is the case, I am still enjoying reading why people around the world are grateful.  Why they are thankful.  Why they are blessed.

It’s a whole bunch of warm fuzzies going around, and I am appreciating each post read.

And so, today, I would like to share two things I am especially grateful for:  our washer and dryer.

Where are they located?

On our outside porch!

Now, you see, when I was teaching in the States before we ever moved to Poland, I remember the counselor talking about the “poor” kids that came from other countries that lived in small apartments and had their washers and dryers (gasp!) on their porches outside.

I had just come from a honeymoon in Mexico, and while we were there we traveled to some pretty remote areas.  We talked with many locals.  And we saw many things.  Things such as kids walking a mile to go to school two days a week.  Things such as children going down to the local creek to scrub their clothes with a bucket.  Things such as kids having to use outside toilets with no water—therefore they had to go and scoop water into a bucket to pour into the toilet so it would flush.

These were just a few of the things we saw or experienced, and I thought, “Man!  I am pretty sure these people that we had just visited would really appreciate a washer and dryer—even if it had to be located on their porch!”

And then we moved to Poland.  Half of the time in our first flat, we wouldn’t have electricity.  Our washer wouldn’t work, and we would be scrubbing our clothes by hand.  And, let me tell you, jeans and sweaters being washed by hand and then DRIED in a cold environment was no piece of cake.

So, when we moved back to Arizona for this year and we were forewarned, “Oh, by the way, your washer and dryer are outside,” I didn’t think twice about it.  I was so thankful that we would have them (on loan, of course, from some GREAT peeps!).

And, truthfully, the Arizona weather is so gloriously beautiful, that doing your laundry on the porch is actually pleasant.

But then it made me think, “What would my former coworker think of my situation?  Small home, washer and dryer on porch, coming from a foreign country?”

And I giggle.  Truly.  Sometimes people lack perspective.

Roof over the head?  Check.

Health?  Check.

Clothes?  Check.

Education for my daughter?  Check.

Food in our bellies?  Check!

Love?  Abundantly!  Check.  Check.  Check!

So, this November, I am grateful for many things—including our awesome washer and dryer on our porch in beautiful Arizona!

And sunshine, and our chickens that cluck, and my baby boy that is always sick and smiles readily anyway, and my daughter that came to a foreign land (America) and yet has made great friends, for family close by, a husband that serves, and a baby in my belly that has made it past the most dangerous stages of pregnancy.

Yep.  I think as long as we keep it all in perspective, a washer and dryer on the porch are luxuries.  And, for these, we are truly thankful!