There's been the first dose of reality in our new dream home. Not exactly trouble in paradise, but a reminder that nothing is perfect and that's just a plain ole constant truth in life.
Enter trouble: dogs. Double trouble to be exact. A boxer and a lab to be precise.
These two dogs have been escaping, reaping havoc on the hood, and on a premeditated cat killing spree it seems of late. Three strays in the creek have fallen victim. But it hit very close to home, literally and figuratively, when the neighbor's beloved cat, our own cat's feline friend, was mauled and killed for sport in a revolting display of hooliganism. And if that wasn't bad enough, when the good Samaritan neighbor returned home after helping us assist the injured neighbor cat, he found his own cat injured. The sidekicks causing trouble were still milling around, and it was a concerted, collaborative effort on the part of several of us to shoo them off. Despite it all though, sadly our cat friend did not make it.
News spread amongst the neighbors faster than a speeding ticket. Tempers flared. Guns cocked (so I was told). Texts blew up. Rumors flew. Fingers pointed. And this mama came up swinging to protect her kids and her cat, her kids' beloved pet (and mama's creek pesticide service as well).
After allowing my anger to come out the stratosphere, I began thinking and praying and getting advice from a trusted friend on how to correctly and biblically handle the situation. After much prayer and discussion we decided to lovingly yet sternly approach the dog owner. After all, my family's safety was at stake here. Our home should be a safe haven, and it was currently under attack by prowling enemies. We didn't want to stir discord or create enemies. We just wanted to protect our children, or family, our neighborhood from a threat, and come to a neighborly conclusion that includes everyone's best interest and safety.
Prowling enemies. Hmmm....sounds familiar in my spirit.
And once again God spoke to me through my kids. Honestly, since becoming a mother I think God has used my kids more than any other correlation to speak to me. And this instance was one more.
The verse came to mind: Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. 1 Peter 5:8
Open parenthesis...
Disclaimer: I'm not calling these dogs evil. They're dogs. They're doing what unfortunately dogs sometimes do. They have no conscience so therefore no regard for morality or the cats we all love. And I'm not calling the owner evil either. He has every right to own a pet as I do. But I am saying, for crying out loud, lock them up and don't allow them out if this is the mess they're gonna stir up.
Disclaimer two: No way could I injure another animal, even one that's acting a punk. It ain't right. It falls under the "Treat Others As You'd Have Them Treat You" category.
Close parenthesis...
God lovingly challenged me with this question: Are you as assertively paying attention to the spiritual enemy that's seeking to devour your children's souls as you are to the physical threat seeking out to destroy your cat?
The enemy...Satan...prowls around. He's seeking someone. He's eyeing my kids. He intends to destroy them. To defeat them. All to bring a blow to God's heart. He is trying to bring my family down.
And yours too.
For the next forty-eight hours I scoured our backyard every chance I had. My cat's safety was on the forefront of my mind. I slept with my ears open. I prayed fervently for God to protect my cat better than I could for the sake of my children. But do I do that with my children's souls? Satan is just as real as those dogs. And the danger is that we can't see him. He blinds our eyes to the truth, casts doubt and fear, whispers lies and accusations, and attempts to desynsetize us to God's Word. He might not get me to quit believing, but he'll try to make me ineffective. Busy. Distracted. And then he moves in. We're cornered right where he wants us. We've become a mile wide and an inch deep, focusing on the trivial and missing completely all that is important.
My spiritual toes were surely stepped on by God's gentle nudge of His hand, prompting me to stop for a minute and think. How quickly I forget that the real enemy, the one after my soul, my children's souls, and yours also, it so dangerous because we can't see him and he's good at what he does. But how grateful I am for a loving Father who loves me, who is for me, who is faithful to me. And how much I need the constant, loving reminder to PRAY for my children, and trust God that He's got this.
Showing posts with label Mama Thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mama Thoughts. Show all posts
Monday, May 2, 2016
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
All Too Soon
Fortunately on this specific morning my OCD did not win. My OCD that sometimes keeps me from living in the now, or enjoying my children's somewhat challenging stages, or embracing the chaos, mess and overfilled days.
This specific morning as I was making my bed I came across this handprint on my throw.
This specific morning I stopped and thought about it. Ok, so maybe I sat down on the bench at the foot of my bed and wiped away a stray tear.
Brielle's handprint was evidence that moments before she had been crawling on my bed giving extra morning hugs. I know that all too soon she'll be too big for her abundant, squeeze tight "huggie hugs". One morning she won't run into the bathroom waiting for me to stop my make-up process to scoop her up and snuggle her. And I won't know when that last time will be until one day I realize that she hasn't been running in for her morning hugs for a while; one more daily ritual that will be banked away into my memory.
This morning I embraced it.. Because this morning I realized that "this morning" will all to soon be a distant memory in my organized, spotless and quiet house.
This morning I left the handprint on the bed all day. And the next morning I was sad to see it gone.
Monday, April 13, 2015
Towel
And yet once again God spoke to me clearly today through my two-year-old from a conversation that went like this....
Brielle: Mommy, can we go playground at school tomorrow?
Me: No, baby. It's going to rain all day today and tomorrow. The playground will be all wet.
Brielle: But Mrs.Belinda has a towel!
You see, Mrs. Belinda does have a towel. And she goes to the playground first thing on pretty days and wipes off dew or pollen that has collected on the swings and slides and random other climbing toys. Immediately my adult brain began reasoning how one measly little towel couldn't hold all that water that would be wiped off of dripping wet equipment. In addition, the grass will be wet and muddy. The rocks will be wet. And more rain will continue to pour from the sky more than likely. And on and on my mind went, rationalizing how silly the notion that one towel could do the job. Juvenile thinking can't reason away such a thought like my mature brain can.
I wonder why Jesus said to come to him as a child. Could it be the simple, pure faith of a child? A child who doesn't immediately calculate all the impossibilities and improbabilities. A child who doesn't "reason" his way out of faith. A child who hears a word and accepts it. A child who trusts that the authority has the means and the power to supply the provision.
Brielle didn't throw reason, physics, science or experience at the situation. She saw the problem. She trusted that the answer is not only available, but ready.
My mind has been consumed by a current situation. I continually cast down lofty imaginations that set themselves up against the knowledge of God when I let my mind wonder and turn it into something it's not. And I remind myself that worry cannot coincide with faith. A mentor of mine reminded me, "God fights our battles.", a lesson that Joshua understood all too well.
I need to remind myself that just as I don't send a two year old out to clean off a playground, God doesn't expect me to make the victory happen through my own sheer effort. And in addition just as I don't put the young children in danger by allowing them to go on the playground in inclement weather, God doesn't place me in a circumstance where I don't rest in the shadow of His wing.
God's got a towel plenty big enough to mop up this mess. And the rain clouds are quickly moving out, and the sun, which never has ceased to shine while hidden behind the storm, will shine its warmth down again soon. My job is to trust and stand in faith and watch. Simply stand and watch expectantly.
Brielle: Mommy, can we go playground at school tomorrow?
Me: No, baby. It's going to rain all day today and tomorrow. The playground will be all wet.
Brielle: But Mrs.Belinda has a towel!
You see, Mrs. Belinda does have a towel. And she goes to the playground first thing on pretty days and wipes off dew or pollen that has collected on the swings and slides and random other climbing toys. Immediately my adult brain began reasoning how one measly little towel couldn't hold all that water that would be wiped off of dripping wet equipment. In addition, the grass will be wet and muddy. The rocks will be wet. And more rain will continue to pour from the sky more than likely. And on and on my mind went, rationalizing how silly the notion that one towel could do the job. Juvenile thinking can't reason away such a thought like my mature brain can.
Now they were bringing even infants to him that he might touch them. And when the disciples saw it, they rebuked them. But Jesus called them to him, saying, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” Luke 18:15-17
I wonder why Jesus said to come to him as a child. Could it be the simple, pure faith of a child? A child who doesn't immediately calculate all the impossibilities and improbabilities. A child who doesn't "reason" his way out of faith. A child who hears a word and accepts it. A child who trusts that the authority has the means and the power to supply the provision.
Brielle didn't throw reason, physics, science or experience at the situation. She saw the problem. She trusted that the answer is not only available, but ready.
My mind has been consumed by a current situation. I continually cast down lofty imaginations that set themselves up against the knowledge of God when I let my mind wonder and turn it into something it's not. And I remind myself that worry cannot coincide with faith. A mentor of mine reminded me, "God fights our battles.", a lesson that Joshua understood all too well.
I need to remind myself that just as I don't send a two year old out to clean off a playground, God doesn't expect me to make the victory happen through my own sheer effort. And in addition just as I don't put the young children in danger by allowing them to go on the playground in inclement weather, God doesn't place me in a circumstance where I don't rest in the shadow of His wing.
God's got a towel plenty big enough to mop up this mess. And the rain clouds are quickly moving out, and the sun, which never has ceased to shine while hidden behind the storm, will shine its warmth down again soon. My job is to trust and stand in faith and watch. Simply stand and watch expectantly.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Mommy Thoughs
I think it's a combination of this cold, dreary, icy day with canceled school and the fact that I'm working on my blog book and therefore are reading entries from the recent past. But once again my Mama thoughts are running again. I'm watching my kiddos lay around on this lazy morning in their jammies, watching way too much tv and pulling out way too many toys at one time. And I'm thinking about this six year journey of Motherhood I've been on. And one thought stick out...
Thank you, Jesus, for your faithfulness!
Each new struggle in mommyhood brought stress on me since, especially in the beginning, I was in uncharted waters. And my thought this morning is that (usually) I'm not at stressed as I often was a few years ago. This whole "mommy thing" hasn't gotten any easier. My kids aren't any more stellar behaved than before. And I still only have 24 hours each day. So what's the difference?
I'm hopeful the difference lies in me, and not my circumstances. I'm seeing how faithful God has been (His track record is amazing). And I'm realizing exactly how fast kids grow up and I really don't want to look back with regrets. The funny thing is, as I read a lot of old entries, I don't have as much memory about the stress. My perspective just a few years down the road is on how precious the time with my kids is. Oh I still remember sleepless nights, frustrating afternoons (they still exist) and overwhelming feelings. But they seem to be in their proper place, which is in the background.
My prayer is that my I never forget the hardships so that I can minister to other young moms. May I never dwell in the hardships that have the power hold me in chains. May I never diminish the hardships and walk dangerously into self-reliance. May I never magnify the hardships and live in despair, squeezing out God's hope in me. May I never fear the hardships and bring fear and dread into my life. But may I be grateful for the hardships that continue to grow me, stretch me, and force me once more to run back to my Savior's arms, the Savior who took those hardships, worries, regrets, and sin to the cross so that I can walk in freedom.
Thank you, Jesus, for your faithfulness!
Each new struggle in mommyhood brought stress on me since, especially in the beginning, I was in uncharted waters. And my thought this morning is that (usually) I'm not at stressed as I often was a few years ago. This whole "mommy thing" hasn't gotten any easier. My kids aren't any more stellar behaved than before. And I still only have 24 hours each day. So what's the difference?
I'm hopeful the difference lies in me, and not my circumstances. I'm seeing how faithful God has been (His track record is amazing). And I'm realizing exactly how fast kids grow up and I really don't want to look back with regrets. The funny thing is, as I read a lot of old entries, I don't have as much memory about the stress. My perspective just a few years down the road is on how precious the time with my kids is. Oh I still remember sleepless nights, frustrating afternoons (they still exist) and overwhelming feelings. But they seem to be in their proper place, which is in the background.
My prayer is that my I never forget the hardships so that I can minister to other young moms. May I never dwell in the hardships that have the power hold me in chains. May I never diminish the hardships and walk dangerously into self-reliance. May I never magnify the hardships and live in despair, squeezing out God's hope in me. May I never fear the hardships and bring fear and dread into my life. But may I be grateful for the hardships that continue to grow me, stretch me, and force me once more to run back to my Savior's arms, the Savior who took those hardships, worries, regrets, and sin to the cross so that I can walk in freedom.
Monday, February 9, 2015
Terrifying
Know what scares me as a mamma right now more than anything else??
... arguing, whining or complaining? nope
... sibling rivalry? nope, but we have a touch of it around here lately
... outside influences? nope
Even more than moving to first grade next year...
...POTTY TRAINING!
Seriously. Potty training my first born was by far the most traumatic mommy experience thus far. I don't have any credentials to offer any new mama advice in this department given it took me three years, yes YEARS, to potty train my elder child. Granted, along the treacherous journey medical GI issues were diagnosed that were our of her control which played a huge role in the potty training obstacle . But some behavior was in her control. And mix that all together and it was three long, frustrating, bury-my-head-in-the-sand journey to dry panties. Like my bff said, "she was the worst case scenario."
I have avoided potty training my second. I've fled from it as though a clown was chasing me with a knife. I've dreaded this season since the day I found out I was pregnant. Please, Lord, just let me skip over potty training. If any mother deserves a child who potty trains on her own over night it's me, Lord. I've done my time! (By the way, I instantly dislike any mother who claims the twenty-four hour independent training method stated aforementioned. They're liars. And I don't appreciate those mamas either that "just stayed home one weekend and knocked it out." Liars.)
Put me in a room full of toddlers or preschoolers, and I'm in my element. I can manage the room with one hand behind my back. Circle time, paint time, etc, I got it. Put me in a bathroom with a potty and a two-year-old with her own agenda, and I buckle at the knees and hit the floor. Oh the ineptitude of it all!!
I have hoped the old adage of siblings being opposites would really play to my benefit in this situation. No such luck so far. I'm only half kidding when I state that I'm not potty-training. I'm just holding out for the day Brielle sits me down and says, "Mommy, all my friends at school were big girl panties and big boy underwear. Can I wear some too?"
Seriously. Avoiding like the plague.
I did get brave stupid two weeks ago and decide to give it a try. I gave up by 9am when I found her mopping up a pee puddle with her shirt and laughing. Bribery will not get her to the potty. Force will only keep her on the potty for 3.5 seconds. Skittles and m&m's? No doing. Brielle proudly names which friends in her class tee tee in the potty, then proceeds to inform me that she only tee tees in diapers.
Hives. Breaking out.
This July birthday of hers will allow her to squeak by into preschool next year. And I really find no solace in the advice that she'll do it in her own time. To my elder child that happened to be at age six. And the clock is ticking on mandatory potty training rule for preschool.
Oh the stress of it all.
So I'm offering a huge reward to any individual willing to step up and potty train my child. Because this mama just can't seem to face the mountain again.
Hopefully positive updates will come soon that will make the offer null and void. Stay tuned.
... arguing, whining or complaining? nope
... sibling rivalry? nope, but we have a touch of it around here lately
... outside influences? nope
Even more than moving to first grade next year...
...POTTY TRAINING!
Seriously. Potty training my first born was by far the most traumatic mommy experience thus far. I don't have any credentials to offer any new mama advice in this department given it took me three years, yes YEARS, to potty train my elder child. Granted, along the treacherous journey medical GI issues were diagnosed that were our of her control which played a huge role in the potty training obstacle . But some behavior was in her control. And mix that all together and it was three long, frustrating, bury-my-head-in-the-sand journey to dry panties. Like my bff said, "she was the worst case scenario."
I have avoided potty training my second. I've fled from it as though a clown was chasing me with a knife. I've dreaded this season since the day I found out I was pregnant. Please, Lord, just let me skip over potty training. If any mother deserves a child who potty trains on her own over night it's me, Lord. I've done my time! (By the way, I instantly dislike any mother who claims the twenty-four hour independent training method stated aforementioned. They're liars. And I don't appreciate those mamas either that "just stayed home one weekend and knocked it out." Liars.)
Put me in a room full of toddlers or preschoolers, and I'm in my element. I can manage the room with one hand behind my back. Circle time, paint time, etc, I got it. Put me in a bathroom with a potty and a two-year-old with her own agenda, and I buckle at the knees and hit the floor. Oh the ineptitude of it all!!
I have hoped the old adage of siblings being opposites would really play to my benefit in this situation. No such luck so far. I'm only half kidding when I state that I'm not potty-training. I'm just holding out for the day Brielle sits me down and says, "Mommy, all my friends at school were big girl panties and big boy underwear. Can I wear some too?"
Seriously. Avoiding like the plague.
I did get b
Hives. Breaking out.
This July birthday of hers will allow her to squeak by into preschool next year. And I really find no solace in the advice that she'll do it in her own time. To my elder child that happened to be at age six. And the clock is ticking on mandatory potty training rule for preschool.
Oh the stress of it all.
So I'm offering a huge reward to any individual willing to step up and potty train my child. Because this mama just can't seem to face the mountain again.
Hopefully positive updates will come soon that will make the offer null and void. Stay tuned.
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Yet Another Lesson for Mama
So many times as Mama, God has spoken to me through my children. I guess there are so many parallels between my unconditional love for my girls and God's unconditional love for His children. And many times God reminds me that just as I make decisions as Mama that are best for my girls even though they may not understand (or agree with), it's because as an adult I understand things they don't, or see potential repercussions that they can't. Those are always fun reminders as a child of God...not!
Last week was no different. Kendall was watching - for the dozenth time probably - our church's Christmas program that we had recorded. There's one song where "Grown up Jesus" as we refer to Him in our house, is performing various healings that were recorded in the Gospels. Kendall can recognize some of the ones being acted out from Bible stories she's heard. At one point there comes a group of lepers that seem physically pretty bad off. Their clothes were torn and tattered, some could barely walk, and all were cast off by society. Immediately the crowd disperses when they approach Jesus, some barely crawling to get to the Savior. Jesus begins touching and healing them. I guess to the mind of a six-year-old it seems a mighty big task.
Halfway to herself, and halfway to me she speaks out, "Whew! How much healing did THAT take??"
It was all I could do not to bust a gut in the moment. But of course I also didn't want to miss an opportunity so I replied, "It's a good thing God is more powerful than anything, even dying. He always is enough."
In fact, I found such humor and childlike innocence in the comment that I texted it to a few friends whom I knew would appreciate it. Later that night as I'm laying in bedworrying concerned over a few current circumstances that I'm unsure how much of it I can control God once again gently whispers, "Notice Kendall didn't question whether or not I could heal them. He question was not in my ability. She knew I could. She just didn't realize the depth of my grace which is always sufficient."
Wow. Slapped around again ever so gently by a God who sees, who knows, and who provides. And I'm reminded yet again why Jesus refers to having a child-like faith to enter the kingdom of Heaven. My job isn't to figure it out, because that's a futile cause after all. My job is to trust, obey, and KNOW that my God's grace is sufficient. He's enough. No matter what.
Last week was no different. Kendall was watching - for the dozenth time probably - our church's Christmas program that we had recorded. There's one song where "Grown up Jesus" as we refer to Him in our house, is performing various healings that were recorded in the Gospels. Kendall can recognize some of the ones being acted out from Bible stories she's heard. At one point there comes a group of lepers that seem physically pretty bad off. Their clothes were torn and tattered, some could barely walk, and all were cast off by society. Immediately the crowd disperses when they approach Jesus, some barely crawling to get to the Savior. Jesus begins touching and healing them. I guess to the mind of a six-year-old it seems a mighty big task.
Halfway to herself, and halfway to me she speaks out, "Whew! How much healing did THAT take??"
It was all I could do not to bust a gut in the moment. But of course I also didn't want to miss an opportunity so I replied, "It's a good thing God is more powerful than anything, even dying. He always is enough."
In fact, I found such humor and childlike innocence in the comment that I texted it to a few friends whom I knew would appreciate it. Later that night as I'm laying in bed
Wow. Slapped around again ever so gently by a God who sees, who knows, and who provides. And I'm reminded yet again why Jesus refers to having a child-like faith to enter the kingdom of Heaven. My job isn't to figure it out, because that's a futile cause after all. My job is to trust, obey, and KNOW that my God's grace is sufficient. He's enough. No matter what.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
You're Right, It's Not Fair
Over the past five years, more times than I can count, God has spoken to me through my children. He shows me the perspective that I have as mother to my children and then correlates it to His perspective as my heavenly Father. And I must say it's pretty cool. I've grown more spiritually as a mom than I have in most of my adult life. (Maybe it's because being a parent has also brought on a whole new meaning to "pray without ceasing"!)
I do my best as a mom to teacher my children how to face problems instead of trying to fix their problems for them. And honestly, that's hard. Everything in me wants to make everything sunshine and roses, all the while shielding them inside bubble wrap from any wounds, hurts, disappointments or plain ole sin. But I know that in the long run I would be doing my children no favors. I know all too well that it's through disappointments and hardships that we grow the most, learn about ourselves, and gain a little more wisdom along life's journey. (Are ya catchin' any spiritual correlations yet??)
As I'm trying so hard not to get on my mother-who's-also-a-preschool-director soapbox I do need to throw in one my thought in this lead in: fairness. Oh. my. goodness. Every mama wants everything to be fair. We come by it honestly since we are partial to our children who have our hearts. But so many times I've seen "helicopter parents" who totally miss an opportunity to teacher their children about some facts of life, how to treat (and respect) others, and how to view themselves in relation to others because they're too busy trying to make everything fair and equal. Life isn't fair. Life isn't equal. And if during childhood parents run themselves ragged and rant and rave to make everything fair, how will children grow to be adults who can cope in a world full of unfairness?? And how will these future adults ever get passed a sense of entitlement if every battle has always been fought for them??
----Puttin' my soapbox away now---
Kendall has encountered an "unfair" in her early life. Food allergies and whacked out GI system.
Yep. And as a mama, don't even make me get my soapbox right back out and take off on the out of control emphasis on food as recreation, sport, and reward in our culture. I find it counter-productive, and flat out annoying, that a game of t-ball cannot be played (after all, American children are statistically overweight and under-exercised) without serving sugary, fatty snack and drink afterward. And usually, in addition to the health component, the snack contains an off limit ingredient for Kendall. Double whammy.
--- For real, soapbox is gone now---
So how does a mama of a child with GI limitations explain to her five-year-old why she cannot partake in some foods her friends eat? Foods that usually show up at every birthday and class party. What am I going to do with this injustice that has been handed to her? And how do I swim upstream in a food obsessed, Pinterest pinning culture? (FYI...I'm an avid Pinterest pinner so my intent is not to judge, but merely point out the vastness of it all.) I'm tempted to pull my hair out some days. Other days I want to shout from the mountain tops how frustrating it can be. And sometimes I want to either blast our culture or run away and hide forever. But seeing as none of these options seem either feasible or productive, I try to navigate the waters to teach my child valuable lessons in dealing with life when it hands her an unfair hand.
I try to tell her that everybody has a "not fair" in their life. I try not to do the comparison game by pointing out how much worse some people have it. She won't be able to wrap her brain around that thought since food allergies IS the worst thing she's experienced in her first five years. But what I do try to do is let her know that, because of the fallen world we live in and the sinful nature of the human heart, sometimes bad things happen, sometimes there's sorrow, sometimes there's frustrations and illnesses, sometimes there's unfairness that just cannot be rationalized. It is what it is. And as long as we try to fix our problems on our own and wish the "not fairs" away, we'll continue to live a frustrating, defeated life.
Jesus came to give us abundant life. He said, "I AM the way, the truth and the life." And the last enemy to be defeated is death, both in the natural and spiritual. He also promised us that in this life we will have trouble, but take heart that He has OVERCOME the world. Some battles may be defeated here on earth, others not until the other side of eternity when all that is wrong will be made right as we will be in a perfect world that God intended. Until then, the pains of this life remind us that this is not our home; we're made for a greater purpose. God has placed eternity in our heart. We are traveling though this life, but this is not the end. Our heart's longings can only be satisfied in the one Healer.
As her mama, I will always be Kendall's biggest advocate. I will never give up on her. I will tirelessly leave no stone unturned as I continue to fight for her GI health. But in the process I don't want to miss the greater healing: the healing of her soul and changing of her heart that can only come from her Creator who says she is fearfully and wonderfully made and loves her and fights for her more than this mama can possibly do in all her might.
So hang on, Kendall. Your mama loves you more than you know. I'm far from perfect and I don't have all the answers. But thankfully we know the One who is and does. Trust God with all your being. He will bring true healing as He writes His promises on your heart.
Now...I need to continue practicing in my own life what I preach!
I do my best as a mom to teacher my children how to face problems instead of trying to fix their problems for them. And honestly, that's hard. Everything in me wants to make everything sunshine and roses, all the while shielding them inside bubble wrap from any wounds, hurts, disappointments or plain ole sin. But I know that in the long run I would be doing my children no favors. I know all too well that it's through disappointments and hardships that we grow the most, learn about ourselves, and gain a little more wisdom along life's journey. (Are ya catchin' any spiritual correlations yet??)
As I'm trying so hard not to get on my mother-who's-also-a-preschool-director soapbox I do need to throw in one my thought in this lead in: fairness. Oh. my. goodness. Every mama wants everything to be fair. We come by it honestly since we are partial to our children who have our hearts. But so many times I've seen "helicopter parents" who totally miss an opportunity to teacher their children about some facts of life, how to treat (and respect) others, and how to view themselves in relation to others because they're too busy trying to make everything fair and equal. Life isn't fair. Life isn't equal. And if during childhood parents run themselves ragged and rant and rave to make everything fair, how will children grow to be adults who can cope in a world full of unfairness?? And how will these future adults ever get passed a sense of entitlement if every battle has always been fought for them??
----Puttin' my soapbox away now---
Kendall has encountered an "unfair" in her early life. Food allergies and whacked out GI system.
Yep. And as a mama, don't even make me get my soapbox right back out and take off on the out of control emphasis on food as recreation, sport, and reward in our culture. I find it counter-productive, and flat out annoying, that a game of t-ball cannot be played (after all, American children are statistically overweight and under-exercised) without serving sugary, fatty snack and drink afterward. And usually, in addition to the health component, the snack contains an off limit ingredient for Kendall. Double whammy.
--- For real, soapbox is gone now---
So how does a mama of a child with GI limitations explain to her five-year-old why she cannot partake in some foods her friends eat? Foods that usually show up at every birthday and class party. What am I going to do with this injustice that has been handed to her? And how do I swim upstream in a food obsessed, Pinterest pinning culture? (FYI...I'm an avid Pinterest pinner so my intent is not to judge, but merely point out the vastness of it all.) I'm tempted to pull my hair out some days. Other days I want to shout from the mountain tops how frustrating it can be. And sometimes I want to either blast our culture or run away and hide forever. But seeing as none of these options seem either feasible or productive, I try to navigate the waters to teach my child valuable lessons in dealing with life when it hands her an unfair hand.
I try to tell her that everybody has a "not fair" in their life. I try not to do the comparison game by pointing out how much worse some people have it. She won't be able to wrap her brain around that thought since food allergies IS the worst thing she's experienced in her first five years. But what I do try to do is let her know that, because of the fallen world we live in and the sinful nature of the human heart, sometimes bad things happen, sometimes there's sorrow, sometimes there's frustrations and illnesses, sometimes there's unfairness that just cannot be rationalized. It is what it is. And as long as we try to fix our problems on our own and wish the "not fairs" away, we'll continue to live a frustrating, defeated life.
Jesus came to give us abundant life. He said, "I AM the way, the truth and the life." And the last enemy to be defeated is death, both in the natural and spiritual. He also promised us that in this life we will have trouble, but take heart that He has OVERCOME the world. Some battles may be defeated here on earth, others not until the other side of eternity when all that is wrong will be made right as we will be in a perfect world that God intended. Until then, the pains of this life remind us that this is not our home; we're made for a greater purpose. God has placed eternity in our heart. We are traveling though this life, but this is not the end. Our heart's longings can only be satisfied in the one Healer.
As her mama, I will always be Kendall's biggest advocate. I will never give up on her. I will tirelessly leave no stone unturned as I continue to fight for her GI health. But in the process I don't want to miss the greater healing: the healing of her soul and changing of her heart that can only come from her Creator who says she is fearfully and wonderfully made and loves her and fights for her more than this mama can possibly do in all her might.
So hang on, Kendall. Your mama loves you more than you know. I'm far from perfect and I don't have all the answers. But thankfully we know the One who is and does. Trust God with all your being. He will bring true healing as He writes His promises on your heart.
Now...I need to continue practicing in my own life what I preach!
Friday, June 13, 2014
Big School
The big day is quickly approaching. The day I've dreaded for a long time. The day that when she was born almost six short years ago that seemed so far away but has come before I realized it.
Big School.
A few weeks ago I ran into a parent of a former kindergartner I taught before I became a mother. (Her daughter will be entering high school in the fall!) I had to apologize to her for something she knew nothing about over the years. Since I hadn't experienced motherhood yet when her child was in my class I didn't fully "get it". I wasn't sure exactly what "it" was at the time as I was told I'd understand one day. What I "didn't get" was why these mamas were making such a fuss over their child being in kindergarten. I mean, really, for crying out loud, they're ONLY five! They're still little! It's not like they're going off to college, which why even worry about since that's still SO far away when you're a mere kindergartner. They can barely read! So c.a.l.m. d.o.w.n. mamas.
Ha! It's amazing how perspective can change things. It's amazing how two small children can come into your life and completely turn your life inside out. Literally. Because becoming a mother involves having your heart walk around outside your body. And every step, every closing chapter in a child's life and motherhood's journey is bittersweet for a mama.
Kendall has many times been referred to as my Sidekick. She's my buddy. She goes with me just about everywhere. It's a rare moment to have time to myself, and that's ok. Tiring, but ok. (Realization #1: Kids grow up WAY too fast.) And up to now, there's very little in Kendall's daily life that I don't know about. Even though she went to a half day K3 and K4 program, she was home by lunch, and I am involved in the program so these teachers and directors are my friends and co-workers. So I was in the know. But now? Oh dear lord, my child will be one little fish in an awfully big pond. I think that 's the hardest part for me. I'm going to miss her! (Realization #2: The days are long but the years are short.) She won't eat lunch with Brielle and me. And the majority of what I know of her day will come solely from what she tells me about unfamiliar teachers and classmates.
(Realization #3: Kids are sponges.) They soak up way more than we give them credit for. They so badly want to be big that they study and imitate the adults around them. I'm praying this summer that God would place Kendall in the class that would be the best fit for her, a teacher that will be a godly role model for her and her classmates. And I'm praying again for this coming year for a sweet friend in her class. A friend who also would be a good influence on her and would have the same morals instilled into her that we are striving to instill in our daughters. God answered that prayer this past year and I'm hopeful He will again.
I know next summer I'll look back on her kindergarten year and be so grateful for God's faithfulness. I'll be happy as a mama to watch her grow. learn and begin to mature into the young lady God created her to be. But given Realization #4 (Anticipation is worse than the event) I'm gonna sweat it out a little this summer.
Bear with this mama. I have moments when I'm excited and happy, and moments when I'm dreadful and anxious. In other words, I'm basically a roller coaster. I hope I get the hang of easing out the nest now. I heard it's worse with the baby! Until then, I'll just squeeze Brielle a little tighter.
Big School.
A few weeks ago I ran into a parent of a former kindergartner I taught before I became a mother. (Her daughter will be entering high school in the fall!) I had to apologize to her for something she knew nothing about over the years. Since I hadn't experienced motherhood yet when her child was in my class I didn't fully "get it". I wasn't sure exactly what "it" was at the time as I was told I'd understand one day. What I "didn't get" was why these mamas were making such a fuss over their child being in kindergarten. I mean, really, for crying out loud, they're ONLY five! They're still little! It's not like they're going off to college, which why even worry about since that's still SO far away when you're a mere kindergartner. They can barely read! So c.a.l.m. d.o.w.n. mamas.
Ha! It's amazing how perspective can change things. It's amazing how two small children can come into your life and completely turn your life inside out. Literally. Because becoming a mother involves having your heart walk around outside your body. And every step, every closing chapter in a child's life and motherhood's journey is bittersweet for a mama.
Kendall has many times been referred to as my Sidekick. She's my buddy. She goes with me just about everywhere. It's a rare moment to have time to myself, and that's ok. Tiring, but ok. (Realization #1: Kids grow up WAY too fast.) And up to now, there's very little in Kendall's daily life that I don't know about. Even though she went to a half day K3 and K4 program, she was home by lunch, and I am involved in the program so these teachers and directors are my friends and co-workers. So I was in the know. But now? Oh dear lord, my child will be one little fish in an awfully big pond. I think that 's the hardest part for me. I'm going to miss her! (Realization #2: The days are long but the years are short.) She won't eat lunch with Brielle and me. And the majority of what I know of her day will come solely from what she tells me about unfamiliar teachers and classmates.
(Realization #3: Kids are sponges.) They soak up way more than we give them credit for. They so badly want to be big that they study and imitate the adults around them. I'm praying this summer that God would place Kendall in the class that would be the best fit for her, a teacher that will be a godly role model for her and her classmates. And I'm praying again for this coming year for a sweet friend in her class. A friend who also would be a good influence on her and would have the same morals instilled into her that we are striving to instill in our daughters. God answered that prayer this past year and I'm hopeful He will again.
I know next summer I'll look back on her kindergarten year and be so grateful for God's faithfulness. I'll be happy as a mama to watch her grow. learn and begin to mature into the young lady God created her to be. But given Realization #4 (Anticipation is worse than the event) I'm gonna sweat it out a little this summer.
Bear with this mama. I have moments when I'm excited and happy, and moments when I'm dreadful and anxious. In other words, I'm basically a roller coaster. I hope I get the hang of easing out the nest now. I heard it's worse with the baby! Until then, I'll just squeeze Brielle a little tighter.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Stay This Little
Kendall, stay this little. Stay this innocent. Stay this trusting. Stay -yet grow- ever loving, kind and compassionate.
Kendall has had her first playground experience with the "mean girl" at a tender age of five. She thinks she's hurt, which she is and rightfully so, but this mama's heart is way more burdened lately. Partly due to my years of experience with "mean girls" and how I know it hurts. Partly to my foresight as to what lies ahead for her during these growing up years. And maybe a tad of mama bear who wants to claw some mean girl eyes out. (Rabbit chase: Daddy has learned that the playground is a whole different world for girls than for boys.)
The hardest, yet most empowering part of being a mother is to not fight our children's battles for them, which conflicts against all instincts to turn "mama bear" on anyone who encroaches on our cub with any impending threat. Yes, I could run to the teacher and director. Or, I could hunt this girl down and stalk her with evil eyes on the days I am at school working. (I don't think that would be the MOST effective course of action.) Or honestly I could tell my child to retaliate. Worst yet, I could scream from mountain tops the atrocities afflicted on my child and demand the school take direct, immediate action since, after all, by child has suffered unjustly, and SOMEBODY should fix it.
The most damaging result of fighting our kids' battles for them is that we never prepare them for the world thatcan will cause wounds and rejection. On top of that we instill a sense of entitlement and false assumptions about how they should expect to be treated by others- such as never encountering unfairness, injustice, or worst of all, inconvenience. I see the results of this rampant in society today. Blame shifting and accusations are hurled everywhere while responsibilities and self restraint are dismissed. Why? Mainly because children are not given the tools to deal with unfairness and thus the whole blame shift phenomena ensues.
Excuse me while I climb back down from my soapbox and continue my point. Back to my child...
You might for a minute think my next statement is bold, or downright mean. But I'm kinda glad (tiny bit glad) that my daughter is experiencing such behavior from a peer. Not because I want her to suffer. Not because I'm cold hearted. But the opposite. Because I love her. She is still young and dependent enough to come running to her mama with open arms. She still thinks in a way I have all the answers, and holds on to a child-like faith that trusts. And what better time for her to get a taste of "the world" than in a loving, sheltered, Christian school and environment that she has been a part of for four or her five years of existence with teachers that know her well and truly want the best for her.
Kendall is trying to wrap her brain around why in the world someone would be mean for no apparent reason. It makes no sense to her. We've had many discussions about the reasons as to why a person would choose such behavior. Maybe they're jealous. Maybe there's "sad" in their heart and that's how they combat it. But whatever the cause, there's nothing she did to initiate it, but there is a way to combat it. With love. Fight back with love. In the balance of not being retaliative but neither submitting to a mere doormat, I'm trying to steer Kendall through these uncharted waters of the mean girl and how to overcome evil with good. We've had many discussions, some tears, and plenty of hugs and "I'm sorrys". Each conversation I'm desperately praying for wisdom as the words are coming out my mouth.
And it's through Kendall's reactions that I have a glimpse into her heart. There's no better way to have a direction of how to pray for your child than to see what's in their heart. Good and bad, truth and lie have surfaced. I'm speaking to her heart about who God says she is, how God wants her to respond. And the worst news of all for Kendall, how God desires her to PRAY for this girl. I know personally how tough a pill that idea is to swallow. To PRAY for the person who is deliberately hurting you? Yes. Through teaching Kendall I am reminded of how God has healed my heart through showing love and how the powerful words of prayers are just as much for me as for the offender, keeping it tender and rid of anger and bitterness.
If this situation had not occurred throughout this year, I would have missed as her mother an opportunity to teach her, grow her, speak to her heart, and stay on my weary knees in prayer for God to draw Kendall to Himself, reveal Himself to her, and change her heart. And of course I'm praying also for her to be protected from the enemy's lies that a geared to steal, kill and destroy. That's the key of motherhood- leading your child's heart to the One who has the power over the heart, and not trying to mold it myself, or equally as dangerous, keep her heart from experiencing God's grace and forgiveness by fighting the battle for her. It's the delicate balance of holding a bird too loosely or too tightly. Hold him just right and he's protected and gains the strength to fly off on his own when his time is right.
In God's loving kindness and perfect timing, through her teacher He confirmed in my spirit how His truth is being revealed to her and His Word is not returning void...
Kendall has only actually prayed for this girl once through, probably, a little too much coaxing on my part. She threw the words, as few as possible, out quickly and tritely to appease her mama, I knew. (Baby steps I remind myself. Don't squeeze that bird too hard!) Two days later in carpool, her teacher informed me that Kendall was leery entering the playground. (This is my child who is a people magnet and has a gift of leadership and teaching that is already evident.) She gave her teacher a hug and said to her, "I really don't want to be around her. I haven't prayed for her yet, but I need to. I'm going to pray for her right now." Then she ran off.
Tears streamed down my face as she is recounting Kendall's comment to me. It was exactly what this hurting mama needed to hear.
Kendall, as you grow, stay this little in your childlike faith. Stay this innocent. Stay this trusting. Stay -yet grow- ever loving, kind and compassionate.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kendall has had her first playground experience with the "mean girl" at a tender age of five. She thinks she's hurt, which she is and rightfully so, but this mama's heart is way more burdened lately. Partly due to my years of experience with "mean girls" and how I know it hurts. Partly to my foresight as to what lies ahead for her during these growing up years. And maybe a tad of mama bear who wants to claw some mean girl eyes out. (Rabbit chase: Daddy has learned that the playground is a whole different world for girls than for boys.)
The hardest, yet most empowering part of being a mother is to not fight our children's battles for them, which conflicts against all instincts to turn "mama bear" on anyone who encroaches on our cub with any impending threat. Yes, I could run to the teacher and director. Or, I could hunt this girl down and stalk her with evil eyes on the days I am at school working. (I don't think that would be the MOST effective course of action.) Or honestly I could tell my child to retaliate. Worst yet, I could scream from mountain tops the atrocities afflicted on my child and demand the school take direct, immediate action since, after all, by child has suffered unjustly, and SOMEBODY should fix it.
The most damaging result of fighting our kids' battles for them is that we never prepare them for the world that
Excuse me while I climb back down from my soapbox and continue my point. Back to my child...
You might for a minute think my next statement is bold, or downright mean. But I'm kinda glad (tiny bit glad) that my daughter is experiencing such behavior from a peer. Not because I want her to suffer. Not because I'm cold hearted. But the opposite. Because I love her. She is still young and dependent enough to come running to her mama with open arms. She still thinks in a way I have all the answers, and holds on to a child-like faith that trusts. And what better time for her to get a taste of "the world" than in a loving, sheltered, Christian school and environment that she has been a part of for four or her five years of existence with teachers that know her well and truly want the best for her.
Kendall is trying to wrap her brain around why in the world someone would be mean for no apparent reason. It makes no sense to her. We've had many discussions about the reasons as to why a person would choose such behavior. Maybe they're jealous. Maybe there's "sad" in their heart and that's how they combat it. But whatever the cause, there's nothing she did to initiate it, but there is a way to combat it. With love. Fight back with love. In the balance of not being retaliative but neither submitting to a mere doormat, I'm trying to steer Kendall through these uncharted waters of the mean girl and how to overcome evil with good. We've had many discussions, some tears, and plenty of hugs and "I'm sorrys". Each conversation I'm desperately praying for wisdom as the words are coming out my mouth.
And it's through Kendall's reactions that I have a glimpse into her heart. There's no better way to have a direction of how to pray for your child than to see what's in their heart. Good and bad, truth and lie have surfaced. I'm speaking to her heart about who God says she is, how God wants her to respond. And the worst news of all for Kendall, how God desires her to PRAY for this girl. I know personally how tough a pill that idea is to swallow. To PRAY for the person who is deliberately hurting you? Yes. Through teaching Kendall I am reminded of how God has healed my heart through showing love and how the powerful words of prayers are just as much for me as for the offender, keeping it tender and rid of anger and bitterness.
If this situation had not occurred throughout this year, I would have missed as her mother an opportunity to teach her, grow her, speak to her heart, and stay on my weary knees in prayer for God to draw Kendall to Himself, reveal Himself to her, and change her heart. And of course I'm praying also for her to be protected from the enemy's lies that a geared to steal, kill and destroy. That's the key of motherhood- leading your child's heart to the One who has the power over the heart, and not trying to mold it myself, or equally as dangerous, keep her heart from experiencing God's grace and forgiveness by fighting the battle for her. It's the delicate balance of holding a bird too loosely or too tightly. Hold him just right and he's protected and gains the strength to fly off on his own when his time is right.
In God's loving kindness and perfect timing, through her teacher He confirmed in my spirit how His truth is being revealed to her and His Word is not returning void...
Kendall has only actually prayed for this girl once through, probably, a little too much coaxing on my part. She threw the words, as few as possible, out quickly and tritely to appease her mama, I knew. (Baby steps I remind myself. Don't squeeze that bird too hard!) Two days later in carpool, her teacher informed me that Kendall was leery entering the playground. (This is my child who is a people magnet and has a gift of leadership and teaching that is already evident.) She gave her teacher a hug and said to her, "I really don't want to be around her. I haven't prayed for her yet, but I need to. I'm going to pray for her right now." Then she ran off.
Tears streamed down my face as she is recounting Kendall's comment to me. It was exactly what this hurting mama needed to hear.
Kendall, as you grow, stay this little in your childlike faith. Stay this innocent. Stay this trusting. Stay -yet grow- ever loving, kind and compassionate.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. Matthew 5:44
Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Matthew 19:14
Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. Romans 12:21
Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:5-7
Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates. Deuteronomy 11:18-20
Friday, September 27, 2013
Well Meaning Advice
Exhausting. Thrilling. Satisfying. Monotonous. Emotional.
These words all describe my experiences as mommy to little ones.
Satisfying because I find such enjoyment in my children. Emotional because they don't come with a manual and their mood swings affect mine. (And honestly, sometimes being a mama to two human beings just scares the mess outa me.) Monotonous because many times I slither into bed having finally accomplished all that the day required, knowing full well that in a few short hours I'll wake up and do it all again. (Seriously, I spend about a third of my waking hours cleaning the kitchen before the next meal hits.)
And I think exhausting is self-explanatory.
"Enjoy them being little. They grow up too fast."
"You'll be walking her down the isle before you blink."
"Cherish each moment. They'll be gone before you know it."
So I find myself conflicted when parents of grown children offer these unsolicited bits of advise to me on a regular basis, well-meaning strangers and confidants alike. These statements don't make me angry, though how the heck am I supposed to enjoy Kroger trips with two little ones, the little one wanting down, the big one wanting up; one screaming for a coveted item in the cart, the other screaming in need of yet another potty trip? All the while I'm trying to concentrate on my categorized, coupon bearing list making sure that I get exact increments of the participating five items as souring grocery prices continue to nickel 'n dime us to death. Where's the fun in that?!
(Rabbit chase: Gabe has gone to the grocery for me the last three weeks in a row, with my coded, categorized list in tow and a string of instructions and buyers-beware warnings jam packed in his head. He's come home mentally exhausted realizing there's still groceries to be unloaded and put away. He's commented several times how he doesn't know HOW I do this every week with children. Props to Mommy...and Daddy!)
I have a friend who gets down right mad when these statements are uttered to her. Mad is not exactly my reaction. I'm just trying to wrap my brain around it and figure out what I should do, that in retrospect, these empty nesters would tell their younger selves.
One night after dinner Gabe and I attempted to have this conversation over the din of whiny, cheerio throwing, crumb dropping children. (What's a "relaxing meal" again??) Gabe wondered how in the world he's supposed to slow time down as it seems to already be spinning out of control so that the days and weeks just fly by in a blur of activity and responsibility.
I had been chewing on this exact thought for several days leading up to our discussion and this is what I came up with...
The goal is not to slow down time. That's just not gonna happen. The whole idea is to (and excuse me for using this word that sometimes makes me gag, but for lack of a better one) "cherish the time". I know, I know...don't utter those words to me on the cereal isle while pushing an overloaded cart. I might just run you over. (And no, I did NOT cherish pregnancy nausea, thankyouverymuch.) So let me rephrase that. Focus on the good in every phase and not the ugly. "Focus" is an easier word to swallow as it inclines to putting one's attention on though not necessarily embracing the said matter. Because if we "wish" the bad away (i.e. "I can't wait to get this baby off bottles", "If only this child were potty trained", "Bless the day she can dress herself", and my personal favorite, "whhheeennn will I get ME time??"), we'll come to the end of our lives realizing we wished our entire lives away. And that, my friends, is where the regret roots and flourishes.
It's the age old the-grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side mentality that we are all plagued by. "My life would be so much better if only fill-in-the-blank." And if we continue in this mindset we'll come to the fourth quarter of our lives and realize that the good was overlooked as we constantly focused on getting the bad gone. Every season has ups and downs, failures and successes. There's the good, bad and ugly in it all. So the secret is not to get the bad gone in hopes of smoother sailing, but instead to love the good in the midst of the annoyances.
I'm not saying that as a young mama I should love Kroger trips, and if I don't then something is wrong with me and I need a heart adjustment. And no, cleaning under the table, mopping the bathroom, and scrubbing crayon (and sharpie) off the walls are not on my list of fun ways to pass the time. And I've not figured out how to avoid the witching hours of 4-6pm when my children are tired, hungry and sometimes just plain overstimulated from the day as I count down the minutes till hubby walks through the door. (Not every afternoon is that way, but all honest mamas are nodding their heads in agreement on that one.) But I am saying to enjoy your children. Find the pleasures in being a tired, slap wore out mama to the ones who are walking around with your heart. All too soon, I'm sure, we'll forget about the tired, slap wore out part, and will do anything for the loud silence of our empty house to go away.
"Let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith"
These words all describe my experiences as mommy to little ones.
Satisfying because I find such enjoyment in my children. Emotional because they don't come with a manual and their mood swings affect mine. (And honestly, sometimes being a mama to two human beings just scares the mess outa me.) Monotonous because many times I slither into bed having finally accomplished all that the day required, knowing full well that in a few short hours I'll wake up and do it all again. (Seriously, I spend about a third of my waking hours cleaning the kitchen before the next meal hits.)
And I think exhausting is self-explanatory.
"Enjoy them being little. They grow up too fast."
"You'll be walking her down the isle before you blink."
"Cherish each moment. They'll be gone before you know it."
So I find myself conflicted when parents of grown children offer these unsolicited bits of advise to me on a regular basis, well-meaning strangers and confidants alike. These statements don't make me angry, though how the heck am I supposed to enjoy Kroger trips with two little ones, the little one wanting down, the big one wanting up; one screaming for a coveted item in the cart, the other screaming in need of yet another potty trip? All the while I'm trying to concentrate on my categorized, coupon bearing list making sure that I get exact increments of the participating five items as souring grocery prices continue to nickel 'n dime us to death. Where's the fun in that?!
(Rabbit chase: Gabe has gone to the grocery for me the last three weeks in a row, with my coded, categorized list in tow and a string of instructions and buyers-beware warnings jam packed in his head. He's come home mentally exhausted realizing there's still groceries to be unloaded and put away. He's commented several times how he doesn't know HOW I do this every week with children. Props to Mommy...and Daddy!)
I have a friend who gets down right mad when these statements are uttered to her. Mad is not exactly my reaction. I'm just trying to wrap my brain around it and figure out what I should do, that in retrospect, these empty nesters would tell their younger selves.
One night after dinner Gabe and I attempted to have this conversation over the din of whiny, cheerio throwing, crumb dropping children. (What's a "relaxing meal" again??) Gabe wondered how in the world he's supposed to slow time down as it seems to already be spinning out of control so that the days and weeks just fly by in a blur of activity and responsibility.
I had been chewing on this exact thought for several days leading up to our discussion and this is what I came up with...
The goal is not to slow down time. That's just not gonna happen. The whole idea is to (and excuse me for using this word that sometimes makes me gag, but for lack of a better one) "cherish the time". I know, I know...don't utter those words to me on the cereal isle while pushing an overloaded cart. I might just run you over. (And no, I did NOT cherish pregnancy nausea, thankyouverymuch.) So let me rephrase that. Focus on the good in every phase and not the ugly. "Focus" is an easier word to swallow as it inclines to putting one's attention on though not necessarily embracing the said matter. Because if we "wish" the bad away (i.e. "I can't wait to get this baby off bottles", "If only this child were potty trained", "Bless the day she can dress herself", and my personal favorite, "whhheeennn will I get ME time??"), we'll come to the end of our lives realizing we wished our entire lives away. And that, my friends, is where the regret roots and flourishes.
It's the age old the-grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side mentality that we are all plagued by. "My life would be so much better if only fill-in-the-blank." And if we continue in this mindset we'll come to the fourth quarter of our lives and realize that the good was overlooked as we constantly focused on getting the bad gone. Every season has ups and downs, failures and successes. There's the good, bad and ugly in it all. So the secret is not to get the bad gone in hopes of smoother sailing, but instead to love the good in the midst of the annoyances.
I'm not saying that as a young mama I should love Kroger trips, and if I don't then something is wrong with me and I need a heart adjustment. And no, cleaning under the table, mopping the bathroom, and scrubbing crayon (and sharpie) off the walls are not on my list of fun ways to pass the time. And I've not figured out how to avoid the witching hours of 4-6pm when my children are tired, hungry and sometimes just plain overstimulated from the day as I count down the minutes till hubby walks through the door. (Not every afternoon is that way, but all honest mamas are nodding their heads in agreement on that one.) But I am saying to enjoy your children. Find the pleasures in being a tired, slap wore out mama to the ones who are walking around with your heart. All too soon, I'm sure, we'll forget about the tired, slap wore out part, and will do anything for the loud silence of our empty house to go away.
"Let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith"
Friday, May 24, 2013
You Just Never Know
I had a You're Getting Old Moment yesterday. I walked in to the local Dominoes with a baby on one hip and a four-year-old trailing half a step behind to pick up a pizza for dinner. The girl at the counter seemed vaguely familiar but I blew it off. After waiting on another customer she turned to me and gave me the weirdest look. She asked me for the name on my order and I responded. Immediately she replied under her breath, "Oh my god."
Ok. Immediately it dawned on me she was familiar for a reason and my mind instantly went back to my inner city public school third grade teaching days. And nothing short of a miracle her first AND last name popped into my head so I went with instincts. "Taylor??"
She smiled, "Yes ma'am!"
We traded some pleasantries and she asked me if I was still teaching. In a few sentences I briefed her on what I had been doing the past years since. I couldn't remember which of the five classes she had been in so I asked if she was in my class the last year I taught.
Without missing a beat she replied, "No ma'am. I was in your class the year of the terror attacks."
Wow. (Another four years prior than I had questioned.)
We traded a few more pleasantries and she acknowledged my children (the elder who was self-dressed and the baby who was barefoot--which never happens in public so WHY did I have to run into someone I knew from the past now). I told her how glad I was to see her and then got my pizzas and we left.
It wasn't until halfway home in the car that the full impact of her reply really hit me.
She knew EXACTLY where she was -even as a young child- when the terror attacks happened just like the rest of us do. And she remembered ME having been her teacher. My mind flashed back to that year since it was so vivid in my memory as well. I remember exactly what reading lesson I was teaching when the custodian/self-proclaimed disciplinarian/self-proclaimed security guard walked in to whisper in my ear what had happened. I remember how non-relevant that third grade reader became to us all in that moment. I remember the days and weeks that followed as their mere eight and nine-year-olds minds tried to process what had happened. I remember struggling with the same emotions myself. I remember their tears. Their questions. Their fears and confusion. Their needed hugs and reassurances.
But then it REALLY hit home even more personally. She remembered ME. Mrs. Goza. Her third grade teacher. ME. What impression of me is sealed in her mind? Did she know I cared about her as well as all her classmates? Could she tell I loved to teach? Did she catch my infectious love for learning -especially math, my favorite? Yeah, I hope she went on to fourth grade with a grasp on long division, memorized multiplication facts, and the ability to write a good paragraph. But I really hope she left my third grade room with a love of learning, knowing that she is special and important.
And if as teachers we can leave lasting impressions on our students' minds and in their hearts, how much more do we as parents have the ability to hurt or heal, build up or tear down with our words, actions and responses? Our tongue has the ability to speak blessings or curses.
I hope when my girls grow up they'll say that my actions matched my words; that I lived what I said I believed and practiced what I preached. Our life is the loudest sermon we'll ever preach. May my attitudes and reactions point my girls to Christ.
One downside of being a teacher is planting so many seeds but only occasionally getting a glimpse of the harvest. Hopefully as a mom now, one day I'll be able to partake in the harvest my girls' hearts will produce from the many, tiny seeds planted by me, Daddy, and their future teachers.
And may I occasionally run into past students to keep me humble :)
PS. And the reason for the "You're Getting Old Moment"?? She's now 19.
Ok. Immediately it dawned on me she was familiar for a reason and my mind instantly went back to my inner city public school third grade teaching days. And nothing short of a miracle her first AND last name popped into my head so I went with instincts. "Taylor??"
She smiled, "Yes ma'am!"
We traded some pleasantries and she asked me if I was still teaching. In a few sentences I briefed her on what I had been doing the past years since. I couldn't remember which of the five classes she had been in so I asked if she was in my class the last year I taught.
Without missing a beat she replied, "No ma'am. I was in your class the year of the terror attacks."
Wow. (Another four years prior than I had questioned.)
We traded a few more pleasantries and she acknowledged my children (the elder who was self-dressed and the baby who was barefoot--which never happens in public so WHY did I have to run into someone I knew from the past now). I told her how glad I was to see her and then got my pizzas and we left.
It wasn't until halfway home in the car that the full impact of her reply really hit me.
She knew EXACTLY where she was -even as a young child- when the terror attacks happened just like the rest of us do. And she remembered ME having been her teacher. My mind flashed back to that year since it was so vivid in my memory as well. I remember exactly what reading lesson I was teaching when the custodian/self-proclaimed disciplinarian/self-proclaimed security guard walked in to whisper in my ear what had happened. I remember how non-relevant that third grade reader became to us all in that moment. I remember the days and weeks that followed as their mere eight and nine-year-olds minds tried to process what had happened. I remember struggling with the same emotions myself. I remember their tears. Their questions. Their fears and confusion. Their needed hugs and reassurances.
But then it REALLY hit home even more personally. She remembered ME. Mrs. Goza. Her third grade teacher. ME. What impression of me is sealed in her mind? Did she know I cared about her as well as all her classmates? Could she tell I loved to teach? Did she catch my infectious love for learning -especially math, my favorite? Yeah, I hope she went on to fourth grade with a grasp on long division, memorized multiplication facts, and the ability to write a good paragraph. But I really hope she left my third grade room with a love of learning, knowing that she is special and important.
And if as teachers we can leave lasting impressions on our students' minds and in their hearts, how much more do we as parents have the ability to hurt or heal, build up or tear down with our words, actions and responses? Our tongue has the ability to speak blessings or curses.
I hope when my girls grow up they'll say that my actions matched my words; that I lived what I said I believed and practiced what I preached. Our life is the loudest sermon we'll ever preach. May my attitudes and reactions point my girls to Christ.
One downside of being a teacher is planting so many seeds but only occasionally getting a glimpse of the harvest. Hopefully as a mom now, one day I'll be able to partake in the harvest my girls' hearts will produce from the many, tiny seeds planted by me, Daddy, and their future teachers.
And may I occasionally run into past students to keep me humble :)
PS. And the reason for the "You're Getting Old Moment"?? She's now 19.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Occupational Hazard
Lately I've been in a funk. A melancholy, pathetic funk. The kind of funk where your brain is clouded but you know enough to know nothing is really wrong, so what's really wrong??
I really haven't said much about it.
I haven't blogged because of it (other than a few cute pics of the kids).
I don't know what caused it.
I'm sick of it.
Oh I chalked it up to lingering remnants of post partum hormones, sleep deprivation and plain 'ole mommy brain. And I do believe those factors played a part to mix a toxic storm. But I just couldn't shake it. Brielle now pretty consistently sleeps all night, and that has helped. I took up running to get some endorphins going, and fell off that high horse when the flu and teething, sub-freezing temps and stitches hit. I'm busy with two kids and a part time job (which I happen to love) so it kept me mentally busy.
I just felt so sloth-like. My BFF pegged it as sleep deprivation. "It'll do crazy things to 'ya".
But I really couldn't even pray about it. Actually I had one prayer. It was the words of a hymn, "Prone to wonder, Lord I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love. His my heart, Lord, take and seal it. Seal it for Thy courts above." In modern day, simple language, "God, hold on to me and don't let me go. I know you are faithful to get me through this. I choose to believe against how I feel. Just hold me and don't let me go." Plain and simple. I couldn't go deep in my prayers. I just felt like I was hitting a wall. But I know God is faithful. I know He never forsakes me. And I had to know there was a reason.
Enter the reason.
As I mentioned, I love my job. I'm in my second year of directing the mother's morning out at our church. I had no idea what I was signing up for when I accepted the position. Yes, I use my strong organizational and leadership skills to keep up with all the bajillion details to keep the ministry functioning. But I had no idea what would be the biggest challenge I would face. Many of these families I have come to know through the MMO. And though I've developed some relationships with moms, grandmas, and other random relatives, only few carry over into my personal life outside of work.
I'm amazed at how these moms open up to me, pour out their hearts and share their trials with me. And one common theme has resonated through it all.
It can be summed up in one word...overwhelmed.
The mom whose unborn baby is labeled "at risk"...overwhelmed
The mom with newborn twins that don't sleep...overwhelmed
The mom taking care of her family and her ailing grandmother...overwhelmed
The mom whose child is displaying misbehavior...overwhelmed
The mom having to go back to work full time...overwhelmed
The mom looking for a diagnosis...overwhelmed
The mom who just moved here and whose husband is soon to be deployed...overwhelmed
And on I could go.
Notice a common theme?? Yep, overwhelmed. That creepy little voice that whispers in your ear that you're alone, you can't handle this, you're not good enough. A voice we've all entertained too much at times. A voice that brings defeat when listened to.
Thunk! went the knowledge slapping me upside the head. A true Holy Spirit moment. God lifted the veil over my eyes and brought the clarity I had been believing would come.
One afternoon sitting in my office feeling none other than...overwhelmed...my boss lady (she's coined the phrase herself so it's all good) saw the look on my face and asked if I was ok and, naturally, what had happened. No one thing was wrong. It was just a summation of all the dejecting news and, for lack of a better word, overwhelming situations, that seemed to stare me in the face with each turn. And I told her exactly that .
She looked me straight on without missing a beat and dropped some knowledge on me, "And why do you think they come to you?? [she proceeded to answer her own question] Because they can trust you." Plain and simple. She laid it out.
Yes, God brings seasons of trial into our lives to teach us more of Him and to remind us that our only hope is Him. But if we stop there we've missed a big piece of the puzzle. Nothing happens in our lives just for us. God intends to use it all for His glory, to bring His glory to others. It was suddenly I realized that God allowed me to walk through that dark cloud to bring His glory to others, especially these moms that I have contact with. It's not about me at all. And if I would have continued my "woe is me" solitaire game, I would have missed the finish line that God wanted to lead me to. I'm His instrument for Him to minister to others as well.
So going back to "overwhelmed". Being a mama is one of the hardest jobs on the planet for a lengthy list of reasons, but the main ones probably being that our children are our heart (so we can't afford to screw it all up), they don't come with a manual, and there is a wealth of "good advice" telling me all the things I "should" be doing to receive the label as "super star mom". And all that unsolicited advice is often, well, overwhelming, especially when combined with other problems and situations we face.
Jesus said He came to give us abundant life, His grace is sufficient, and nothing we face is a stranger to Him. So why am I so dejected? Well, maybe I've just been listening to the wrong voice. Or maybe God silently led me through a season where I had to trust His heart even when I couldn't trace His hand.
If there's one thing that's worth being overwhelming, it's God's lavish love for me and you. May that be the only overwhelming thought I entertain today.
I really haven't said much about it.
I haven't blogged because of it (other than a few cute pics of the kids).
I don't know what caused it.
I'm sick of it.
Oh I chalked it up to lingering remnants of post partum hormones, sleep deprivation and plain 'ole mommy brain. And I do believe those factors played a part to mix a toxic storm. But I just couldn't shake it. Brielle now pretty consistently sleeps all night, and that has helped. I took up running to get some endorphins going, and fell off that high horse when the flu and teething, sub-freezing temps and stitches hit. I'm busy with two kids and a part time job (which I happen to love) so it kept me mentally busy.
I just felt so sloth-like. My BFF pegged it as sleep deprivation. "It'll do crazy things to 'ya".
But I really couldn't even pray about it. Actually I had one prayer. It was the words of a hymn, "Prone to wonder, Lord I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love. His my heart, Lord, take and seal it. Seal it for Thy courts above." In modern day, simple language, "God, hold on to me and don't let me go. I know you are faithful to get me through this. I choose to believe against how I feel. Just hold me and don't let me go." Plain and simple. I couldn't go deep in my prayers. I just felt like I was hitting a wall. But I know God is faithful. I know He never forsakes me. And I had to know there was a reason.
Enter the reason.
As I mentioned, I love my job. I'm in my second year of directing the mother's morning out at our church. I had no idea what I was signing up for when I accepted the position. Yes, I use my strong organizational and leadership skills to keep up with all the bajillion details to keep the ministry functioning. But I had no idea what would be the biggest challenge I would face. Many of these families I have come to know through the MMO. And though I've developed some relationships with moms, grandmas, and other random relatives, only few carry over into my personal life outside of work.
I'm amazed at how these moms open up to me, pour out their hearts and share their trials with me. And one common theme has resonated through it all.
It can be summed up in one word...overwhelmed.
The mom whose unborn baby is labeled "at risk"...overwhelmed
The mom with newborn twins that don't sleep...overwhelmed
The mom taking care of her family and her ailing grandmother...overwhelmed
The mom whose child is displaying misbehavior...overwhelmed
The mom having to go back to work full time...overwhelmed
The mom looking for a diagnosis...overwhelmed
The mom who just moved here and whose husband is soon to be deployed...overwhelmed
And on I could go.
Notice a common theme?? Yep, overwhelmed. That creepy little voice that whispers in your ear that you're alone, you can't handle this, you're not good enough. A voice we've all entertained too much at times. A voice that brings defeat when listened to.
Thunk! went the knowledge slapping me upside the head. A true Holy Spirit moment. God lifted the veil over my eyes and brought the clarity I had been believing would come.
One afternoon sitting in my office feeling none other than...overwhelmed...my boss lady (she's coined the phrase herself so it's all good) saw the look on my face and asked if I was ok and, naturally, what had happened. No one thing was wrong. It was just a summation of all the dejecting news and, for lack of a better word, overwhelming situations, that seemed to stare me in the face with each turn. And I told her exactly that .
She looked me straight on without missing a beat and dropped some knowledge on me, "And why do you think they come to you?? [she proceeded to answer her own question] Because they can trust you." Plain and simple. She laid it out.
Yes, God brings seasons of trial into our lives to teach us more of Him and to remind us that our only hope is Him. But if we stop there we've missed a big piece of the puzzle. Nothing happens in our lives just for us. God intends to use it all for His glory, to bring His glory to others. It was suddenly I realized that God allowed me to walk through that dark cloud to bring His glory to others, especially these moms that I have contact with. It's not about me at all. And if I would have continued my "woe is me" solitaire game, I would have missed the finish line that God wanted to lead me to. I'm His instrument for Him to minister to others as well.
So going back to "overwhelmed". Being a mama is one of the hardest jobs on the planet for a lengthy list of reasons, but the main ones probably being that our children are our heart (so we can't afford to screw it all up), they don't come with a manual, and there is a wealth of "good advice" telling me all the things I "should" be doing to receive the label as "super star mom". And all that unsolicited advice is often, well, overwhelming, especially when combined with other problems and situations we face.
Jesus said He came to give us abundant life, His grace is sufficient, and nothing we face is a stranger to Him. So why am I so dejected? Well, maybe I've just been listening to the wrong voice. Or maybe God silently led me through a season where I had to trust His heart even when I couldn't trace His hand.
If there's one thing that's worth being overwhelming, it's God's lavish love for me and you. May that be the only overwhelming thought I entertain today.
Monday, November 12, 2012
More Than Just Content
I know Thanksgiving is right around the corner and we all, myself included, get all wrapped up in thankfulness. This reminder is a good thing as it seems we, definitely myself included, can so easily lose focus and forget all our blessings.
Even though it happens to be mid-November God has been really teaching me about true contentment. And by contentment I'm not merely referring to just learning to submissively yet unenthusiastically accept what little we have to settle with while choosing to not focus on the have-nots glaring us down. I'm referring to coming to a new realization that sometimes "blessings" as we in our temporal minds tend to see things, are not really blessings at all. Often they can be hindrances. Hindrances from truly experiencing God's grace, mercy and love. Hindrances to living the life God created us to each live.
I get myself so wrapped up in my own four walls that I often fail to keep my priorities straight; my emotions in check; my neighbor in need on the foreground; my Jesus as Lord. Instead I turn a blind eye and with all my muster plow through another day's to-do list with little thought to how God wants to use me. Oh, I throw up some prayers and of course pray blessings and safety over my family. (I would be in ill-fit wife and mother if I didn't.) But my heart's intent is to just feel the satisfaction of scratching it off my list. I find myself worrying more about details that really don't matter to a hill of beans by the end of the day. I find myself with an edgy tone to my voice. I find myself unsatisfied. I find myself plain slap worn out and emotionally, mentally and even physically drained. Why? All because I'm pouring a majority of my focus, energy and attention on things that just stinkin' don't matter. Or of they do matter, I'm trying to be a doer and a pleaser by attempting to accomplish too much. It's not that these things are wrong or evil or should be banned forever. The travesty is when these details get out of whack, re-prioritized, and just plain bent out of shape. Then as I slither into bed at night and collapse I wonder what's up.
So here's my list of blessings that might not seem as such:
I'm thankful for my ever-shrinking house. There are several good things to be considered. It means I now have TWO daughters. Neither of them lacks for clothes. They both have a bed to sleep in at night. And they are blessed with toys and possessions. It also means that I can de-clutter and get rid of stuff. I'm finding as I'm now thirty-ish that more stuff just ties me down and creates extra work and upkeep. And when I do get a new house one day (with pa-lenty of storage) I will be even more grateful for it.
I'm thankful that I can't get anything accomplished on Tuesdays or Thursdays. And it's because I'm at a job that I love, ministering to children and their parents and teachers. It forces me to get outside my own little world twice a week and love on others. And God is teaching me that sometimes those that seem unlovable need love the most.
I'm thankful that I own very little "nice" stuff. And by nice I mean expensive, immaculate, gorgeous furniture. It would just be covered in layers of filth just like my kitchen chairs, couch and rug. I don't have to worry about anything getting ruined. One less thing to worry about. And for the record, I do work my tail off to keep everything clean and decluttered. But when the red jello jiggles off the spoon...again...I can throw up an unaffected "oh well" instead of depleting my body of oxygen.
I'm thankful there is always a mess to clean up. It means I have two healthy little girls (and a normal husband) which leaves much job security as mamma and wife.
I'm thankful my husband and I don't have all night to cuddle together on the couch watching tv (though the thought sounds very inviting!). We're both busy cleaning a house and cleaning the kids. Gabe is a wonderful daddy, playing with and caring for his girls when he gets home from work. Besides, other than Saints games, what is worth watching on tv anyway?? (No wise cracks needed on the Saints, please. True Who Dats know how to celebrate the little victories ~i.e. keeping an opponent under 300 total yards ~ as well as the big victories ~ like SUPERBOWLS!) Plus he helps me with dishes and laundry too. (yes, be jealous!)
I'm thankful I can't go on a week long vaca with the hubs. I would miss my babies too much.
I'm thankful that Sunday is often NOT a day of rest. God has given me the opportunity and responsibility to teach four-year-olds ("the least of these") His truth as well as serve Him in other aspects each morning as well. He's blessed us with amazing, godly friends who we can live life with and raise our children with.
I'm thankful I can't sit down over coffee each morning with "my person". It makes those phone conversations as we share our hearts and solve the world's problems just that much sweeter.
Just making this list spurs me on to so much more I am thankful for. I don't merely throw up a generic, thankful heart to some ambiguous force out there somewhere. I thank my Lord, my Savior, Jesus, for loving me unconditionally, blessing me beyond measure, forgiving me beyond fathom. There's nothing I did to earn it. There's no way I deserve it. There's nothing I can do to repay it. And that's what's so amazing about grace.
May I not grow weary in running the race. May I not become discontent and miss God's blessings. May I not grow complacent that I miss what God has in store for me now, in this season of my life. He has me here, now, for a reason. May I grow into more of His image. May I find my purpose and live it.
Even though it happens to be mid-November God has been really teaching me about true contentment. And by contentment I'm not merely referring to just learning to submissively yet unenthusiastically accept what little we have to settle with while choosing to not focus on the have-nots glaring us down. I'm referring to coming to a new realization that sometimes "blessings" as we in our temporal minds tend to see things, are not really blessings at all. Often they can be hindrances. Hindrances from truly experiencing God's grace, mercy and love. Hindrances to living the life God created us to each live.
I get myself so wrapped up in my own four walls that I often fail to keep my priorities straight; my emotions in check; my neighbor in need on the foreground; my Jesus as Lord. Instead I turn a blind eye and with all my muster plow through another day's to-do list with little thought to how God wants to use me. Oh, I throw up some prayers and of course pray blessings and safety over my family. (I would be in ill-fit wife and mother if I didn't.) But my heart's intent is to just feel the satisfaction of scratching it off my list. I find myself worrying more about details that really don't matter to a hill of beans by the end of the day. I find myself with an edgy tone to my voice. I find myself unsatisfied. I find myself plain slap worn out and emotionally, mentally and even physically drained. Why? All because I'm pouring a majority of my focus, energy and attention on things that just stinkin' don't matter. Or of they do matter, I'm trying to be a doer and a pleaser by attempting to accomplish too much. It's not that these things are wrong or evil or should be banned forever. The travesty is when these details get out of whack, re-prioritized, and just plain bent out of shape. Then as I slither into bed at night and collapse I wonder what's up.
So here's my list of blessings that might not seem as such:
I'm thankful for my ever-shrinking house. There are several good things to be considered. It means I now have TWO daughters. Neither of them lacks for clothes. They both have a bed to sleep in at night. And they are blessed with toys and possessions. It also means that I can de-clutter and get rid of stuff. I'm finding as I'm now thirty-ish that more stuff just ties me down and creates extra work and upkeep. And when I do get a new house one day (with pa-lenty of storage) I will be even more grateful for it.
I'm thankful that I can't get anything accomplished on Tuesdays or Thursdays. And it's because I'm at a job that I love, ministering to children and their parents and teachers. It forces me to get outside my own little world twice a week and love on others. And God is teaching me that sometimes those that seem unlovable need love the most.
I'm thankful that I own very little "nice" stuff. And by nice I mean expensive, immaculate, gorgeous furniture. It would just be covered in layers of filth just like my kitchen chairs, couch and rug. I don't have to worry about anything getting ruined. One less thing to worry about. And for the record, I do work my tail off to keep everything clean and decluttered. But when the red jello jiggles off the spoon...again...I can throw up an unaffected "oh well" instead of depleting my body of oxygen.
I'm thankful there is always a mess to clean up. It means I have two healthy little girls (and a normal husband) which leaves much job security as mamma and wife.
I'm thankful my husband and I don't have all night to cuddle together on the couch watching tv (though the thought sounds very inviting!). We're both busy cleaning a house and cleaning the kids. Gabe is a wonderful daddy, playing with and caring for his girls when he gets home from work. Besides, other than Saints games, what is worth watching on tv anyway?? (No wise cracks needed on the Saints, please. True Who Dats know how to celebrate the little victories ~i.e. keeping an opponent under 300 total yards ~ as well as the big victories ~ like SUPERBOWLS!) Plus he helps me with dishes and laundry too. (yes, be jealous!)
I'm thankful I can't go on a week long vaca with the hubs. I would miss my babies too much.
I'm thankful that Sunday is often NOT a day of rest. God has given me the opportunity and responsibility to teach four-year-olds ("the least of these") His truth as well as serve Him in other aspects each morning as well. He's blessed us with amazing, godly friends who we can live life with and raise our children with.
I'm thankful I can't sit down over coffee each morning with "my person". It makes those phone conversations as we share our hearts and solve the world's problems just that much sweeter.
Just making this list spurs me on to so much more I am thankful for. I don't merely throw up a generic, thankful heart to some ambiguous force out there somewhere. I thank my Lord, my Savior, Jesus, for loving me unconditionally, blessing me beyond measure, forgiving me beyond fathom. There's nothing I did to earn it. There's no way I deserve it. There's nothing I can do to repay it. And that's what's so amazing about grace.
May I not grow weary in running the race. May I not become discontent and miss God's blessings. May I not grow complacent that I miss what God has in store for me now, in this season of my life. He has me here, now, for a reason. May I grow into more of His image. May I find my purpose and live it.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Woes of a Drama Queen and a Tired Mommy (During Mommy's First Outings With Two)
Ok. When I get determined in my head about something I'm gonna with all my might see to it that I accomplish it. My mission this past Monday, my first day solo with two, was to make it to Brielle's two week check up on time!! And, friends, I made it on.the.dot. thankyouverymuch. (Never mind I began at 7am to get out the door at 9:10 with every bag, bottle, sippy cup and snack prepared the night before.) Blow the trumpets, roll out the red carpet. I could hear the choir of angels singing as I, super mom, breezed in trying to act like it was no big deal. (It was an academy award winning act, trust me.)
Too bad that for the first time e.v.e.r...we had an hour wait in the waiting room. Seriously? I'm on time and no one noticed. (Come to find out every mama in the county waited until the week before school starts to realize that their child needs five-year-old shots to start kindergarten. Note to self...) I experienced the first of many juggling acts when Kendall had to go to the bathroom. We were clear on one side in the newborn waiting room and the bathroom was clear on the other side which is the "sick" side. No way was I lugging Brielle through the sick kiddos and into the bathroom. But I couldn't just leave her. What was a mama to do? Beg and plead with her three-year-old to hold it. And she did. And as soon as we were called back, preschooler and mommy had to go!
So we made it out on our first venture as a threesome. Now just gotta figure out how in the world to be out the door at 7am twice a week on school mornings!
On to drama queen woes and Walmart...
Our second outing was the next day to Walmart. Mind you we went right after lunch so my elder child was neither famished nor parched as she claimed. She lay down on the floor of the mylecon isle dying of thirst. (Here's where the drama queen antics began in case you missed it.) Totally by accident due to a) I'm sleep deprived and b) she shouldn't have been sprawled out to begin with, the buggy rolled over the tip of her ring finger. I felt awful. Talk about a bad mommy moment. The woman in a motorized scooter next to us heaped on the condemnation by glaring at me like I should be nominated for the loser mommy of the year award for nearly mutilating my helpless child's appendage. Kendall's protesting claims that it was broken didn't help matters. I comforted Kendall, kissed it, apologized, and reminded her why laying on the Walmart floor is not the best course of protest. Finally when she could walk again (I know it's her finger, but when you're three it strangely affects the entire body) we were off to get what little else we needed and get outa there.
I kid you not. Ten minutes later on the toilet paper isle I asked her how her finger was feeling. She thought for a minute, scrunched up her nose with squinted eyes like she does when she's thinking really hard and asked, "Mommy, which finger is it again??"
I rest my case.
Too bad that for the first time e.v.e.r...we had an hour wait in the waiting room. Seriously? I'm on time and no one noticed. (Come to find out every mama in the county waited until the week before school starts to realize that their child needs five-year-old shots to start kindergarten. Note to self...) I experienced the first of many juggling acts when Kendall had to go to the bathroom. We were clear on one side in the newborn waiting room and the bathroom was clear on the other side which is the "sick" side. No way was I lugging Brielle through the sick kiddos and into the bathroom. But I couldn't just leave her. What was a mama to do? Beg and plead with her three-year-old to hold it. And she did. And as soon as we were called back, preschooler and mommy had to go!
So we made it out on our first venture as a threesome. Now just gotta figure out how in the world to be out the door at 7am twice a week on school mornings!
On to drama queen woes and Walmart...
Our second outing was the next day to Walmart. Mind you we went right after lunch so my elder child was neither famished nor parched as she claimed. She lay down on the floor of the mylecon isle dying of thirst. (Here's where the drama queen antics began in case you missed it.) Totally by accident due to a) I'm sleep deprived and b) she shouldn't have been sprawled out to begin with, the buggy rolled over the tip of her ring finger. I felt awful. Talk about a bad mommy moment. The woman in a motorized scooter next to us heaped on the condemnation by glaring at me like I should be nominated for the loser mommy of the year award for nearly mutilating my helpless child's appendage. Kendall's protesting claims that it was broken didn't help matters. I comforted Kendall, kissed it, apologized, and reminded her why laying on the Walmart floor is not the best course of protest. Finally when she could walk again (I know it's her finger, but when you're three it strangely affects the entire body) we were off to get what little else we needed and get outa there.
I kid you not. Ten minutes later on the toilet paper isle I asked her how her finger was feeling. She thought for a minute, scrunched up her nose with squinted eyes like she does when she's thinking really hard and asked, "Mommy, which finger is it again??"
I rest my case.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
I Love...
... sweet kisses from my favorite three-year-old
... a big ole glass of orange juice
... feeling my sweet baby girl kick me to death in my belly
... the snoogle pregnancy pillow my wonderful husband gave me for Mother's Day
... watching I Love Lucy episodes with Kendall while snuggled on the couch
... play time with other preschoolers/mommies
... hearing Kendall sing in the car to her praise music
... sewing coordinating girly outfits
... thunder on a summer afternoon
... buying baby stuff
... Kendall kissing my belly telling her baby sister she loves her
... (secretly love)...the way Kendall wrinkles her nose while trying to smooth talk me
... hearing Kendall play with her friends
... rejoicing with dear friends over answered prayer
... good laughs shared with my husband
... Friday swim time with friends
... nights I don't have to set my alarm
... sharing everyday life with my bffs
... watching my baby to-do list get shorter
... hearing the air kick on in the middle of the night
... Kendall's conversations
I can't...
... hardly shave my legs comfortably anymore
... get up less than twice to pee at night
... take a deep breath (or walk across the house without losing it)
... stand strangers asking so many personal pregnancy questions
... fit in most of my maternity clothes already
... believe I'm missing my poodle as much as I am
... believe my poodle is behaving (?) at Camp Nana and Grandpa
... thank God enough for abundant blessings both big and small
... fathom how I'll survive new mommy sleep deprivation again
... wait to meet my new little girl
... figure out where time is going
... a big ole glass of orange juice
... feeling my sweet baby girl kick me to death in my belly
... the snoogle pregnancy pillow my wonderful husband gave me for Mother's Day
... watching I Love Lucy episodes with Kendall while snuggled on the couch
... play time with other preschoolers/mommies
... hearing Kendall sing in the car to her praise music
... sewing coordinating girly outfits
... thunder on a summer afternoon
... buying baby stuff
... Kendall kissing my belly telling her baby sister she loves her
... (secretly love)...the way Kendall wrinkles her nose while trying to smooth talk me
... hearing Kendall play with her friends
... rejoicing with dear friends over answered prayer
... good laughs shared with my husband
... Friday swim time with friends
... nights I don't have to set my alarm
... sharing everyday life with my bffs
... watching my baby to-do list get shorter
... hearing the air kick on in the middle of the night
... Kendall's conversations
I can't...
... hardly shave my legs comfortably anymore
... get up less than twice to pee at night
... take a deep breath (or walk across the house without losing it)
... stand strangers asking so many personal pregnancy questions
... fit in most of my maternity clothes already
... believe I'm missing my poodle as much as I am
... believe my poodle is behaving (?) at Camp Nana and Grandpa
... thank God enough for abundant blessings both big and small
... fathom how I'll survive new mommy sleep deprivation again
... wait to meet my new little girl
... figure out where time is going
Thursday, May 31, 2012
The Ever Evolving Question
Having walked the road of infertility for three years, I always cringed at prying personal questions and careless, flippant remarks about future children from others (acquaintances and strangers alike) who had no clue what was on the other side of that weighted, nosy question. I was a master at my poker face even though I died a little on the inside when faced with yet another painful reminder of what I longed for yet didn't have.
So one pro of finally having my heart's longing fulfilled, so I thought, was an end to "The Question". But then I learned all too quickly that The Question never ends, it just morphs. Seriously? I, a new mother who was hormonal, sleep deprived and overwhelmed (along with feeling a little guilty for feeling these things) was being asked about another baby??
Wishful thinking aside that the question would finally die, I wised up a little this time and figured that even though, yes, we tried for another one and were successful, the question would evolve yet again.
Yep. The newest versions are currently, "So, are you going to try again for that boy?" "How does your husband feel about another girl?" Or the best yet..."Your poor husband. He must be disappointed he's not getting a boy." (Yes, technically that's not formed as a question, but it's ignorant and appalling none the less.) To which the answers would be respectively "No, we have exactly what our heart's desire was and God's will for us." "He's thrilled beyond words." And insert shock and awe face repeat answer number two.
Really?! Why would we be less than absolutely thrilled about another girl given that we love our first girl beyond words? And why is it assumed that all men need a boy to somehow either complete or verify their manhood? And why the heck would we think our family was incomplete or lacking in some way? And, yes, if we had a boy we would be just as excited and blessed beyond measure. Children are a heritage from the Lord. They are a blessing. And God predestined our two girls for our family for such a time as this before the foundations of the world existed. Why would we not be anything other than overjoyed??
Upon airing my grievances over the matter the other day (all the while rolling my eyes) my non-smart-eleck husband (that role is usually reserved for me) had the perfect come back the next time a stranger has the nosiness to ask me a string of personal questions and the audacity to comment so recklessly.
His recommendation: "Well, he'd be a little more excited if he knew for sure it's his. We're still waiting on the paternity results."
LOL! Really?! That's so good that I might not be able to resist the next time a stranger asks. He did reiterate that it needed to be a stranger whom I'd never see again since I'm basically not painting myself in the BEST light. (So the chick-fil-a cashier is out since we frequent that place too much. So is anyone from church or the neighborhood.) But I'm so proud of my husband and too much of a smart you-know-what myself, that I just might have to try it if the opportunity presents itself. It just might be too much fun considering the shock value to pass up.
Subtle hint: Don't ask random women in public if they're pregnant. (You just could be wrong and then you'll just be plain embarrassed.) And don't follow up with asking gender/due date/name etc. It's none of your business. Simply congratulate them (only if you're 100% certain they indeed are pregnant) and they'll disclose as much personal information they choose. But DO: hold the door for them, give them your seat, and allow them to maneuver their big belly and three-year-old into the larger, handicap bathroom stall rather than being selfish and taking it for yourself.
So one pro of finally having my heart's longing fulfilled, so I thought, was an end to "The Question". But then I learned all too quickly that The Question never ends, it just morphs. Seriously? I, a new mother who was hormonal, sleep deprived and overwhelmed (along with feeling a little guilty for feeling these things) was being asked about another baby??
Wishful thinking aside that the question would finally die, I wised up a little this time and figured that even though, yes, we tried for another one and were successful, the question would evolve yet again.
Yep. The newest versions are currently, "So, are you going to try again for that boy?" "How does your husband feel about another girl?" Or the best yet..."Your poor husband. He must be disappointed he's not getting a boy." (Yes, technically that's not formed as a question, but it's ignorant and appalling none the less.) To which the answers would be respectively "No, we have exactly what our heart's desire was and God's will for us." "He's thrilled beyond words." And insert shock and awe face repeat answer number two.
Really?! Why would we be less than absolutely thrilled about another girl given that we love our first girl beyond words? And why is it assumed that all men need a boy to somehow either complete or verify their manhood? And why the heck would we think our family was incomplete or lacking in some way? And, yes, if we had a boy we would be just as excited and blessed beyond measure. Children are a heritage from the Lord. They are a blessing. And God predestined our two girls for our family for such a time as this before the foundations of the world existed. Why would we not be anything other than overjoyed??
Upon airing my grievances over the matter the other day (all the while rolling my eyes) my non-smart-eleck husband (that role is usually reserved for me) had the perfect come back the next time a stranger has the nosiness to ask me a string of personal questions and the audacity to comment so recklessly.
His recommendation: "Well, he'd be a little more excited if he knew for sure it's his. We're still waiting on the paternity results."
LOL! Really?! That's so good that I might not be able to resist the next time a stranger asks. He did reiterate that it needed to be a stranger whom I'd never see again since I'm basically not painting myself in the BEST light. (So the chick-fil-a cashier is out since we frequent that place too much. So is anyone from church or the neighborhood.) But I'm so proud of my husband and too much of a smart you-know-what myself, that I just might have to try it if the opportunity presents itself. It just might be too much fun considering the shock value to pass up.
Subtle hint: Don't ask random women in public if they're pregnant. (You just could be wrong and then you'll just be plain embarrassed.) And don't follow up with asking gender/due date/name etc. It's none of your business. Simply congratulate them (only if you're 100% certain they indeed are pregnant) and they'll disclose as much personal information they choose. But DO: hold the door for them, give them your seat, and allow them to maneuver their big belly and three-year-old into the larger, handicap bathroom stall rather than being selfish and taking it for yourself.
Friday, April 20, 2012
What I Know Today
The weather is gorgeous and the mild cool front has worked wonders for this pregnant mama.
I'm hopefully excited that the nursery will finally get put together this weekend. My OCD can't handle much more waiting.
It IS a big deal to sew curtains with three rows of ruffles...ie a labor of love.
My belly button is extremely sensitive...as in I don't like my shirt brushing against it.
My ankles, fingers and face are NOT swollen yet.
I love spending time with my three-year-old and am slightly grieving losing all our one on one time.
My three-year-old is WAY smarter than I give her credit. And I can't believe she'll be starting pre-k in the fall.
I have a supportive, loving husband who has been hard working on the "before the baby comes to-do list" with little to no complaints.
I have the best BFFs on the planet.
I love my job.
My to-do list is finally growing shorter.
It's hopeless wishing my three-year-old won't talk with a southern drawl.
The first sunscreen smell of the season is invigorating.
There's no way to better spend an afternoon at home than watching I Love Lucy episodes with my three-year-old.
Orange juice is a comfort food. And there's no such thing as too much Mexican food.
July will be here way too fast.
July can't get here soon enough.
I'm hopefully excited that the nursery will finally get put together this weekend. My OCD can't handle much more waiting.
It IS a big deal to sew curtains with three rows of ruffles...ie a labor of love.
My belly button is extremely sensitive...as in I don't like my shirt brushing against it.
My ankles, fingers and face are NOT swollen yet.
I love spending time with my three-year-old and am slightly grieving losing all our one on one time.
My three-year-old is WAY smarter than I give her credit. And I can't believe she'll be starting pre-k in the fall.
I have a supportive, loving husband who has been hard working on the "before the baby comes to-do list" with little to no complaints.
I have the best BFFs on the planet.
I love my job.
My to-do list is finally growing shorter.
It's hopeless wishing my three-year-old won't talk with a southern drawl.
The first sunscreen smell of the season is invigorating.
There's no way to better spend an afternoon at home than watching I Love Lucy episodes with my three-year-old.
Orange juice is a comfort food. And there's no such thing as too much Mexican food.
July will be here way too fast.
July can't get here soon enough.
Friday, February 3, 2012
It's the Little Things
Thoughts of the day:
1. I just bought the best pair of maternity lounge pants everrrrr from Target today. Worth every one of the seventeen bucks Ismacked down swiped for them. I will be living in them every day. Until about May when the southern heat really sets in and this big fat mama will want as little clothing/skin contact as possible.
2. Teacher-minded + OCD = fascination with a new box of colored pencils. Had to sneak 'em past Miss Hawk Eyes. I heard a great idea for color coding Proverbs and can't wait to get started. This works well into my scripture memory goals for this year.
3. Despite the torrential downpour all morning I had to get out and run a few errands. Getting in and out of the car in a monsoon with a three-year-old attempting to navigate car seat straps just makes the whole process that much longer and that much more clothes-soaking. But I loved watching Kendall splash in every puddle between the car and Target and Walmart and the mexican restaurant in her matching rain boots, raincoat and umbrella. She was thrilled that due to her protective footwear, this coveted feat was permissible today.
Comfy pants...sharp, new pencils...jumping in rain puddles...and chili rellenos. Happy Friday!
1. I just bought the best pair of maternity lounge pants everrrrr from Target today. Worth every one of the seventeen bucks I
2. Teacher-minded + OCD = fascination with a new box of colored pencils. Had to sneak 'em past Miss Hawk Eyes. I heard a great idea for color coding Proverbs and can't wait to get started. This works well into my scripture memory goals for this year.
3. Despite the torrential downpour all morning I had to get out and run a few errands. Getting in and out of the car in a monsoon with a three-year-old attempting to navigate car seat straps just makes the whole process that much longer and that much more clothes-soaking. But I loved watching Kendall splash in every puddle between the car and Target and Walmart and the mexican restaurant in her matching rain boots, raincoat and umbrella. She was thrilled that due to her protective footwear, this coveted feat was permissible today.
Comfy pants...sharp, new pencils...jumping in rain puddles...and chili rellenos. Happy Friday!
Friday, January 20, 2012
It Just Aint Happenin'
Blog post ideas, that is. The thoughts just aren't flowing lately.
Maybe it's the new year.
Or the fact that I've been in my first trimester and am DOG TIRED and suffering from pregnancy brain.
Maybe it's that I've been so worked up and excited over the Saints these last few weeks only to have my hopes dashed once again. (I know, I know, record setting season. My husband tried to console me already.) But really, I was ready to press purchase on my maternity Saints shirt, had my NFC Champion party already running through my mind, and had totally rearranged my life on Sunday, February 5. Sigh...moving on.
Or it could be just the daily challenges of working and being a wife and raising a three year old.
But whatever, I've just had writers block lately.
But here are some things going on in my riveting little world:
1. Kendall is SO excited about being a big sister. It's so sweet. More on that later.
2. I had a good check up this week. We find out next visit if it's boy or girl!
3. My dog over the past week has had the worst case of canine stomach virus of sorts which left me to cleaning up trails around the house. Good thing for wood floors. After a stressful day at work yesterday where I physically over did it and knew I had to come home and rest, I walked into yet another trail all over kitchen...and the dog. After bent over cleaning for thirty minutes, bathing the dog, a breakdown to the hubs on the phone (thanks pregnancy hormones), a trip to a new vet since that's where I could get an appointment and I was desperate, four medications and $200 later (yes, dear, $200) my dog was diagnosed a virus from presumably eating what was labeled a "mysterious dead carcass of sorts" acquired from her self-proclaimed independent walks she's been dashing out the door and taking lately. Ewww....This is our first and LASTpoodle dog, people. Last.
4. Once again I refused to make new years resolutions. I hate them. Though I have begun and new strategy on memorizing and meditating on scripture that I pray I can continue throughout the year.
5. My to do list before Lil Bit comes is way too long. As usual. Not gonna stress.
Like I said, riveting. Hopefully there's alot more to come soon.
Maybe it's the new year.
Or the fact that I've been in my first trimester and am DOG TIRED and suffering from pregnancy brain.
Maybe it's that I've been so worked up and excited over the Saints these last few weeks only to have my hopes dashed once again. (I know, I know, record setting season. My husband tried to console me already.) But really, I was ready to press purchase on my maternity Saints shirt, had my NFC Champion party already running through my mind, and had totally rearranged my life on Sunday, February 5. Sigh...moving on.
Or it could be just the daily challenges of working and being a wife and raising a three year old.
But whatever, I've just had writers block lately.
But here are some things going on in my riveting little world:
1. Kendall is SO excited about being a big sister. It's so sweet. More on that later.
2. I had a good check up this week. We find out next visit if it's boy or girl!
3. My dog over the past week has had the worst case of canine stomach virus of sorts which left me to cleaning up trails around the house. Good thing for wood floors. After a stressful day at work yesterday where I physically over did it and knew I had to come home and rest, I walked into yet another trail all over kitchen...and the dog. After bent over cleaning for thirty minutes, bathing the dog, a breakdown to the hubs on the phone (thanks pregnancy hormones), a trip to a new vet since that's where I could get an appointment and I was desperate, four medications and $200 later (yes, dear, $200) my dog was diagnosed a virus from presumably eating what was labeled a "mysterious dead carcass of sorts" acquired from her self-proclaimed independent walks she's been dashing out the door and taking lately. Ewww....This is our first and LAST
4. Once again I refused to make new years resolutions. I hate them. Though I have begun and new strategy on memorizing and meditating on scripture that I pray I can continue throughout the year.
5. My to do list before Lil Bit comes is way too long. As usual. Not gonna stress.
Like I said, riveting. Hopefully there's alot more to come soon.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
The Definition of Vacation
There's been alot of discussion around our house lately on the definition of vacation, including what it is NOT.
va-ca-tion [vey-key-shuhn]
noun
a period of suspension of work, study, or other activity, usually
used for rest, recreation, or travel; recess or holiday:
Schoolchildren are on vacation now.
And the discussions have been semi- (and I stress semi) successful due to the fact that Kendall had a recent vacation to the beach as a point of reference.
We've discussed what a vacation is NOT:
And who can I thank for this? ABC and America's Funniest Home Videos. The season finale, broadcasted from the Magic Kingdom, was basically an hour long infomercial for The Greatest Place On Earth. And Kendall has been hooked ever since.
Do not be fooled. The Disney execs know what they're doing. I mean, how many parents are now succumbing to pressure and booking their tickets ASAP? Gabe Goza hasn't buckled. Yet. (And those of you who know him know full well that it'll take much patience and perseverance to do so.)
But ever since seeing it, Kendall is convinced we're going to Disney World. Soon. It's the last thing she mentioned when going to bed, and the first thing out her mouth when she woke up.
Kendall: Mama, where we go today?
Mommy: We're going to Kroger.
Kendall: After Kroger we go to Disney World, ok? I see (and she begins ticking them off) Red Minnie, Mickey, Goofey, Donald, Cinderelly...
See, in her two-year-old mind, adding an "ok?" to the end of a request makes it a guarantee. (Sorry girl.) To her she just doesn't see the big difference between a quick weekly trip to the grocery and a trip to Disney World. I guess it's just child like wonder and simple faith. So far her parents have given her everything she needs (but not necessarily desires), so why would this request be out of the realm of possibility? Now, I know mostly her lack of judgment has to do with her inability to understand lapsed time (as in how LONG it takes to drive to Orlando for starters) and she doesn't understand, process nor analyze and over complicate the details. She hasn't factored all the impossibilities such as adequate funds, time off work, prior responsibilities and the sort. She's secure in her parents' love, she knows they want the best for her and she has experienced their lavish love. She doesn't dwell on the negatives, pays no mind to the nay sayers and believes all things can be possible.
And it got me to thinking of how we relate to God our Heavenly Father.
I guess that's why Jesus said, "unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 18:3) He wants us to focus not on the negative, quit over analyzing and worrying, and simply trust Him by faith. Disbelief and doubt settle in when we, well, over think like adults.
"And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him." (Hebrews 11:6)
All too often I get bogged down in discouragement and doubt. I question God's faithfulness and sovereignty. I choose to dwell on the impossibility of the situation rather than the wisdom and lovingkindness of God. I'm reminded of when Peter walked out on the water at Jesus' bidding. But as soon as he took his eyes off Jesus and onto his surroundings he began to sink. He was afraid and cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” (Matthew 14)
God in His immeasurable wisdom knows more than me, loves me more than I can imagine, and has good things planned for me in His perfect timing. In the meanwhile I am to trust Him. That's my part of the deal. Trust that every word from His mouth will come to pass. Trust that He alone is my salvation. Trust that He is holding me in the palm of His hand so therefore everything that happens, good and bad, is filtered through him. Trust above all that He loves me.
Now, in conclusion, will we take her to Disney World? Of course! Will it happen on her time table? Probably not. But our delay is not because of lack of love or affection. We're not saying no just out of spite. The timing is not right. There a factors and details of which she is not aware. And even if we did attempt to explain it she wouldn't understand. We can see a much bigger picture of our plans over the next few years than she. And in our parental wisdom we know how much better it will be to wait a little longer. (For one reason of many: potty training!)
And if you missed the infomercial propaganda, don't worry. Kendall can give you a play-by-play commentary on request, or even unsolicited if you're lucky.
Thanks AFV. Thanks ABC. And Disney World, we'll see you soon. Eventually.
va-ca-tion [vey-key-shuhn]
noun
a period of suspension of work, study, or other activity, usually
used for rest, recreation, or travel; recess or holiday:
Schoolchildren are on vacation now.
And the discussions have been semi- (and I stress semi) successful due to the fact that Kendall had a recent vacation to the beach as a point of reference.
We've discussed what a vacation is NOT:
- something done often
- cheap
- done with little notice or preparation
- done in one day
- anywhere in our immediate future, as in, tomorrow
And who can I thank for this? ABC and America's Funniest Home Videos. The season finale, broadcasted from the Magic Kingdom, was basically an hour long infomercial for The Greatest Place On Earth. And Kendall has been hooked ever since.
Do not be fooled. The Disney execs know what they're doing. I mean, how many parents are now succumbing to pressure and booking their tickets ASAP? Gabe Goza hasn't buckled. Yet. (And those of you who know him know full well that it'll take much patience and perseverance to do so.)
But ever since seeing it, Kendall is convinced we're going to Disney World. Soon. It's the last thing she mentioned when going to bed, and the first thing out her mouth when she woke up.
Kendall: Mama, where we go today?
Mommy: We're going to Kroger.
Kendall: After Kroger we go to Disney World, ok? I see (and she begins ticking them off) Red Minnie, Mickey, Goofey, Donald, Cinderelly...
See, in her two-year-old mind, adding an "ok?" to the end of a request makes it a guarantee. (Sorry girl.) To her she just doesn't see the big difference between a quick weekly trip to the grocery and a trip to Disney World. I guess it's just child like wonder and simple faith. So far her parents have given her everything she needs (but not necessarily desires), so why would this request be out of the realm of possibility? Now, I know mostly her lack of judgment has to do with her inability to understand lapsed time (as in how LONG it takes to drive to Orlando for starters) and she doesn't understand, process nor analyze and over complicate the details. She hasn't factored all the impossibilities such as adequate funds, time off work, prior responsibilities and the sort. She's secure in her parents' love, she knows they want the best for her and she has experienced their lavish love. She doesn't dwell on the negatives, pays no mind to the nay sayers and believes all things can be possible.
And it got me to thinking of how we relate to God our Heavenly Father.
I guess that's why Jesus said, "unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 18:3) He wants us to focus not on the negative, quit over analyzing and worrying, and simply trust Him by faith. Disbelief and doubt settle in when we, well, over think like adults.
"And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him." (Hebrews 11:6)
All too often I get bogged down in discouragement and doubt. I question God's faithfulness and sovereignty. I choose to dwell on the impossibility of the situation rather than the wisdom and lovingkindness of God. I'm reminded of when Peter walked out on the water at Jesus' bidding. But as soon as he took his eyes off Jesus and onto his surroundings he began to sink. He was afraid and cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” (Matthew 14)
God in His immeasurable wisdom knows more than me, loves me more than I can imagine, and has good things planned for me in His perfect timing. In the meanwhile I am to trust Him. That's my part of the deal. Trust that every word from His mouth will come to pass. Trust that He alone is my salvation. Trust that He is holding me in the palm of His hand so therefore everything that happens, good and bad, is filtered through him. Trust above all that He loves me.
Now, in conclusion, will we take her to Disney World? Of course! Will it happen on her time table? Probably not. But our delay is not because of lack of love or affection. We're not saying no just out of spite. The timing is not right. There a factors and details of which she is not aware. And even if we did attempt to explain it she wouldn't understand. We can see a much bigger picture of our plans over the next few years than she. And in our parental wisdom we know how much better it will be to wait a little longer. (For one reason of many: potty training!)
And if you missed the infomercial propaganda, don't worry. Kendall can give you a play-by-play commentary on request, or even unsolicited if you're lucky.
Thanks AFV. Thanks ABC. And Disney World, we'll see you soon. Eventually.
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