To the moms...

On Friday my 2nd grader came home with a poem she had written me for Mother's Day at school. Quite honestly I had spaced that Mother's Day was even approaching so it was a fun surprise. Her poem went like this:

My mom is as pretty as a rose

when she is at church.

My mom is as kind as a new born puppy

when she is anywhere.

My mom is as caring as a daisy

when we are unhappy.

My mom is as loud as a lion 

when she is mad.

My mom is as gentle as a good mother

when we have boo-boos.

My mom is as goofy as a magic trick

when she is playing with us.

My mom is as wonderful as a sunset

when she cares for us.

My mom is as helpful as a nurse

when we have cuts.

My mom is as musical as a band

when she sings to my sisters in bed.

I will have memories of you!

After some good-natured chuckling I immediately thought, "Wow. I want to be the mom she's talking about."

It's all too easy to be hard on myself. To think I yell too much (and loudly apparently). Or to to feel too self conscious to sing, dance and act goofy with my kids. Or to compare my looks with the other moms, and when I do that I'll always fall short.  And while I'm comparing I might as well look at all the Pinterest crafts and elaborate outgoings other moms can do handle with such ease. And how clean their houses are, and how nice their cars are, and how they can afford a vacation...And pretty soon I'm feeling like a pretty lousy mom.

But then I realized I was missing the point. I am that mom to her. And I was created to be exactly the mom that my girls need. And you were created to be exactly the mother that your children need.

Our pastor spoke this morning on ways that God reveals himself. God comforts as a mother comforts. (Isaiah 66:13) God remembers.  We remember the things that are important to us, like birthdays and things that our children have said and done. But God remembers the number of hairs on your head! (Isaiah 49:15) God seeks. If we misplace something, like the car keys or our cell phone we turn the house upside down looking for it in the same way God seeks us out.  Our small things matter to him. (Luke 15:8) God protects. As moms we will do anything to protect our kids and will respond to injustice. How much greater of a protector our God is than us mama bears! (Hosea13:8) God longs. He longs to bring us together and create a peaceful community among us just we long to our have our children all together (playing peacefully of course). (Luke 13:34)

We are not perfect moms. But we are perfectly capable of being the loving mothers our children need.  Let's stop comparing ourselves and turning up inadequate. Instead let's celebrate who God made us to be.  We are fearfully and wonderfully made by the Creator of the Universe.

Let's teach our kids about faith and not fear.  Let's separate identity from performance. And let's redefine failure.  Let's spur each other on and build each other up in love.  Let's let our God given talents shine for all to see. 

Happy Mother's Day.

You can view today's sermon here: https://vimeo.com/127409693

An hour of prayer as a family...

Last week our church offered a unique opportunity to the congregation. They called it a week of prayer. Basically you committed to an hour time slot where you would go to the church building and pray. There were different stations and prompts to guide you in your prayers and someone was there praying around the clock for a week straight.  We did the same thing last year and it was a powerful experience so I was excited to sign my husband and myself up.

Yesterday at 1:00 in the afternoon was our time only due to a miscommunication we didn't have a sitter for our girls.  So my husband says "Let's go pray as a family." "Are you crazy?" and "That's never going to work." were a couple of my responses.  But selfishly I wanted to go and I didn't want to ask my husband not to go and there weren't a lot of other options so we loaded this girls up in the car.  Let me remind you that my girls are 7, 3 and 2 years old. I grumbled all the way to church and as we waited in the car for the person before us to come out and let us in my 7 year old reminded us of how much she did not want to be there. "This is going to be soooo boring. I can't pray for an hour!" I was pretty sure she was right and that this was going go very badly.

I paraded the girls into church with a heavy heart and a bad attitude. We hung our coats and entered the prayer room and my breath was taken away.  The room was set up into stations and it was just beyond what I could imagine. At the first station there was music playing.  We were prompted to sing along and worship. It also talked about all the names of God. Prince of Peace, King of Kings, El Roi, Jehovah, Emmanuel, I Am....I could go on and on. We were prompted to write the one that held meaning for us onto a small chalkboard set on an easel, only it was full so the words had been extended onto the wall. The wall was full from top to bottom, left to right, it was absolutely breathtaking.  And well, David Crowder was playing so my girls were okay hanging out at the station and singing along.

The next station was confession. I sat down with my oldest and asked her if she knew what confession meant.  She wasn't sure so I explained it as doing something you know you shouldn't be doing or sinning and then telling it to God and apologizing. She immediately started to cry. She confessed her sin to me and then together we wrote it on slip of paper with a special pen and nailed it to a cross.  Then there was a heat gun we used to blow over the words making them disappear.  I was able to tell her that that is what Jesus does for us when we confess our sin.  He wipes it away and makes us clean again.  It was a powerful visual to share with her.

Next was our identity in Christ. My girls loved this station because it was an area full of mirrors that had words written on them of who God says we are. Free, forgiven, loved, valued, strong, righteous....again I could go on and on.  We had each of them take turns sitting in front of the mirrors as we told them who God says they are.  We explained to them that they are God's girls; they were just entrusted to us for a short time here. 

Then came prayers for the workers of our church, our community and the churches in our area.  We let each of our girls draw a name from the fish bowl of someone who works or volunteers at our church and had each of them pray for the name on their paper.  Then we found a few of our oldest's friends in the phone book and prayed for them.  Then we prayed over all the churches in our area.

Next we prayed through art. There was a huge canvas and the girls were disappointed that it was so full, but people had been praying for about 160 hours at this point.  They were able to find a little room though.

The next station held a map of the world and people had circled areas and written messages about the areas they had prayed for.  We located some friends of ours in Spain and my sister-in-law in Seattle and circled those areas.  We prayed for their safety and protection. We prayed that God would use them to be salt and light where they are. And then we selfishly prayed that we'd be reunited soon. Our oldest noticed a comment written on the map that regarded us as aliens and I was able to explain to her that this (earth) is not our home.  We belong in heaven which makes us aliens and not from this world. 

The last station was meditation. By the time we got there we had just 10 minutes left of our hour.  We took the time to look around the room and reflect on all the different ways we had prayed. When we got home I was snuggling with my 3 year old who had been (normally) quiet. I asked if she liked going to church to pray and what her favorite part was; she replied with "I liked hanging my coat on the funny hook and I like praying with no words." At first I felt a little defeated by her answer but then I thought about the last part of her answer "I like praying with no words." Maybe she did get something out of it?

The rest of the evening passed pretty typically except that I overheard a lot more prayer happening among our girls.  "Oh, you hurt your finger? I'll pray for it." "Can I pray for your head?" "Will you pray for my arm?" And instead of saying our bedtime prayer together each of them wanted to pray individually.  "Thank you for this day. Thank you for mom and dad. Thank you for cheese..."  

Thank you for an hour of prayer with my family.

When I think of the wisdom and scope of his plan, I fall down on my knees and pray to the Father of all the great family of God—some of them already in heaven and some down here on earth— that out of his glorious, unlimited resources he will give you the mighty inner strengthening of his Holy Spirit. And I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your hearts, living within you as you trust in him. May your roots go down deep into the soil of God’s marvelous love;  and may you be able to feel and understand, as all God’s children should, how long, how wide, how deep, and how high his love really is; and to experience this love for yourselves, though it is so great that you will never see the end of it or fully know or understand it. And so at last you will be filled up with God himself. Now glory be to God, who by his mighty power at work within us is able to do far more than we would ever dare to ask or even dream of—infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, or hopes. May he be given glory forever and ever through endless ages because of his master plan of salvation for the Church through Jesus Christ.

Ephesians 3:14-21 {TLB}

I'm gonna fix my eyes on Him...

Yesterday morning I read this news story about a young man who was sneakily taking pictures of young children in his neighborhood.  The pictures ended up on a Russian child pornography website and even though the pictures of these innocent children were not sexual in nature the comments that followed the pictures most certainly were.

The story gave me the creeps, the idea that some random person or even your neighbor could take pictures of your children playing at the park and post them to the internet inappropriately and you wouldn't have a clue.  And if you read the news you would know that this story is pretty mild compared to some of the insane and horrific things going on in the world.

So all morning I was walking around my house, looking at my sweet children and thinking "Oh, I wish I could raise you in a bubble."  As a mama I want to do anything to protect them from harm, whether it be physical, emotional or mental.   Wouldn't it be great to just lock us all in the house and be safe for the rest of our lives?

Then in the afternoon I checked my email and I saw one with the title "Urgent Prayer Request". Here is an excerpt:

Prayer Request from Missionaries who are in the areas that are being attacked by ISIS are asking to be showered in prayer. ISIS has taken over the town they are in today. He said ISIS is systematically going house to house to all the Christians and asking the children to denounce Jesus. He said so far not one child has. And so far all have consequently been killed. But not the parents. The UN has withdrawn and the missionaries are on their own. They are determined to stick it out for the sake of the families - even if it means their own deaths. They are very afraid, have no idea how to even begin ministering to these families who have had seen their children martyred. Yet he says he knows God has called them for some reason to be His voice and hands at this place at this time. 

Even so, they are begging for prayers for courage to live out their vocation in such dire circumstances. And like the children, accept martyrdom if they are called to do so. These brave parents instilled such a fervent faith in their children that they chose martyrdom. Please surround them in their loss with your prayers for hope and perseverance. 

Wow. I felt sick. But then God whispered to me "This is my command-be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the LORD your GOD is with you wherever you go. {Joshua 1:9} Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified because of them, for the LORD your GOD goes with you; He will never leave your or forsake you. {Deuteronomy 31:6} In this world you will have trouble. But take heart; I have overcome the world! {John 16:33} I have given Your word to My followers. The world hated them because they do not belong to the world, even as I do not belong to the world. I pray not that you take them out of the world, but that you should keep them from evil. {John 17:14-15}"

And so I prayed. I prayed for peace for those that were grieving and courage for those that were afraid. I prayed for a strength in their faith that could only come from an intimate knowledge that they were doing the work of their Creator. I prayed for open minds and open hearts. I prayed that the missionaries work would not be in vain but that God's message would be heard. I prayed that they would feel Jesus presence with them and hear His voice. I prayed that God's name would be glorified. And then I prayed that God would teach me how to raise my girls to be like those kids who lost their life. Kids who were so solid in their faith that they would not denounce the name of Jesus even if it cost them their life.  

And that was a hard prayer to pray because I know God is not asking me to raise them in a bubble or lock them in the house.  He's asking me to raise them to do His work. To go out in this crazy messed up world but to be strong enough to not be overcome by Satan's deceptions and temptations.  

It might have been easier to pray that God would just stop ISIS and call it a day. It would always be easier to ask God to give us freedom from doing His work, freedom from suffering, freedom from temptation, but we live in a fallen world and there is evil here. So instead I choose to pray for strength to do the work, joy in the suffering and power to overcome the temptation.  Instead I pray that I can fix my eyes on God and all that HE is and let him make all my worries, fears and doubts fade away. And that is my prayer for you too.

Mama moments...

 About a year ago I was sitting on my living room floor with two wonderful ladies from a program called Help Me Grow.  I don't remember how exactly we got hooked up with them but it was at a time we were baffled by our youngest Amelia.  Around six months she stopped sitting.  I mean the girl who could previously sit would not longer sit in a high chair, on the floor, on your lap...it seemed to cause her extreme pain. She also started struggling with eating and sleeping and it was obvious she was regressing.  We saw our primary doctor who sent us for x-rays and refereed us to a Pediatric Orthopedic Surgeon.  We worked with a chiropractor and a homeopath and somehow along the way I ended up with a case worker and a physical therapist in my living room.

They did a thorough evaluation of Amelia but the funny thing was as quickly as she "lost" everything, it came back.  They determined that she did not qualify for their program where a physical therapist would have come to our house and worked with Amelia.  As they sat there that day explaining everything to me they asked if I had any questions.  Amelia really did appear to be "back to normal" but I did have questions.  I decided to express my concerns about Lorelei and see what they thought.  See Lorelei was almost 2 and she was smart and a great communicator, she just didn't use many words.  They determined that Lorelei should be evaluated for speech therapy and low and behold she did qualify. They called it an "immature mouth" where she didn't know how to physically move her mouth and tongue to form the sounds she needed.  At the beginning of the school year a speech therapist started coming to our house once a week to work with Lorelei and we noticed improvement almost immediately.

Today I sat on my living room floor with two wonderful ladies from a program called Help Me Grow. Lorelei will be turning 3 in a few weeks and it was time to have her reevaluated to see if she continued to qualify for speech therapy services.  They compared the two evaluations and showed how one year ago Lorelei had 12-15 words she used and could be understood, now she uses sentences with up to six words.  In fact her scores are now above average. She's doing very well and no, she no longer qualifies for speech therapy.

Watching her speech develop at such a quick rate has been incredible, but seeing her come out of her shell and the confidence she has gained has been amazing.  So today I am just in awe of our Lorelei and I'm so thankful that God has entrusted us in raising her. We think she's pretty incredible.

Thank you, Lord, for turning my hard mama moments into proud mama moments.

We do loud really well...

Have you seen one of these signs? Chances are you have, they seem to be everywhere.  I've always wanted one for my house but still haven't found the "perfect" one (and DIY scares me, what if I spend all that time on it and hate it?).

I especially like the "we do loud really well" because at my house we do.  We've got three girls under the age of 7 and sometimes I'm pretty sure ear plugs should be required before entering our home.  I've come to love 8:15 pm. It's about the time that quiet happens.

My husband and I experienced real quiet when our youngest spent some time in the NICU after she was born.  The room she was in had four babies, one or two nurses and various family members huddled around their babies layette.  Each room was equipped with a sign that read volume and when things got a little louder than the constant beeping of the various machines it would flash angrily at you demanding quiet. I remember spending the day enveloped in the quiet there and then coming home and being shocked at how loud we could be. That sign would be going off like a strobe light around here.

I've come to crave the quiet. So much so that I started getting up an hour or two before my girls just to enjoy the quiet.  I went to school one day with my husband and he was almost giddy to show me the library.  Not only because I LOVE books; reading them and smelling them and I kind of think it would be super fun to be a librarian...but because the library on campus has "quiet zones" where it's so quiet you can hear yourself breath.  He said the look on my face was priceless and I'm sure it was...the library is a wonderful place.

I also love the quiet because when I can tune out the noise of the world then I can hear God whispering to me.  Whispering His promises for me or how He wants me to pray; pointing out traps and blessings in my path. Reminding me of His plan for me.

I'm a planner.  I like to know how things are going to go today, tomorrow and six months from now.  Right now my husband and I are in a situation of unknowns on what the future will bring.  It makes me anxious and frustrated.  Today God reminded me to not get so caught up in making plans and filling our calendar that I miss out on the blessings of His plan.  He told me He has plans for me today. He asked me to let go of unrealistic expectations (like knowing what the future holds) and to savor some happy moments today. And for the future He told me that I should check in with Him before making my own plans because our plans might line up or He might have something better.

Last night we had a guest for supper.  There was talking and singing and giggling and our youngest putting her hands over her ears and yelling "It's too loud!".  After our guest left I told my husband that I was worried we'd scared her off with our crazy loud behavior.  My husband reminded me that while our home may be loud, we have a home filled with grace and joy and love and those things are louder than the noise.

In need of a mental health day...

It's been a long week.  A week filled with sinus infections and ear infections and little sleep. Crabby children. Crying children. Clingy children. A week of running to appointments; doctor, chiropractor, ENT, audiologist. A week of broken baby doll arms that caused such heartache that tears flowed for an hour.  A week that if being a stay at home mom came with vacation days, I'd be cashing them in.  Maybe just a mental health day? No? Okay.

And yet I was still not prepared for what happened when my oldest arrived home from book club today.  The way Eva devours books signing her up for book club once a month at the library was a no-brainer.
Usually she comes home bursting at the seems with excitement but today she went straight to her room.  I called out "So how was book club?" I received an "I don't want to talk about it." Now, I have three girls. I knew one day I would encounter this response. I did not expect it at almost seven years old.

Eva appeared from her room a few minutes later stating we should probably get her homework done.  So we did her timed reading test where she got her best score yet but there was no joy.  On to spelling words. When I couldn't immediately locate the list of words to quiz her on there were tears.  Something was definitely up.  I tried to pry but she told me her stomach hurt; stating that she probably ate too much cheese and crackers at book club.

In her perfectionist way she aced her spelling words and declined a high five.  She asked if she could play on the tablet and lie in bed.  I conceded after determining she was not feverish and she was not going to puke.  I perched myself on the edge of her bed and said "Did something happen today?"

And then the story flooded out of her.  She had gotten scolded at book club.  Her and a friend were trying to do hand stands.  Yes, she knew she should have been paying attention. And yes, she knew the library wasn't the best place to be attempting a hand stand.  And yes, she was sure the beloved librarian was quite upset with her.

I finally realized how my mom had felt, raising me.  She always told me she could never punish me because I would beat myself up worse than any punishment she could have doled out.  And that was true. I remember being grounded...once...for like an hour (maybe less).

I was raising a mini-me.  Where was that mental health day when I needed one?

I consoled Eva by telling her that while the beloved librarian had probably been frustrated with her and maybe even a little disappointed in her behavior that she wouldn't hold it against her.  She wouldn't be upset with her forever and it was probably already forgotten.  I offered to take her to the library so she could apologize and see for herself but she thought she was to nervous for that.  Instead we drafted a note of apology.

I then explained how even though mommy and daddy get frustrated with our kids (which had been happening a lot this week) we still love them. Always. And that nothing would change that. Before I could even connect the dots, Eva said "Like God loves us." Exactly.  I was thankful that she caught on quick because this mama is spent.  

Yet it reminded me of the devotional I read just this morning. God said "This is my son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased."  And God said that before Jesus did anything great. Before he did any miracles or died on the cross.  He loved him because he was his son. Period.

And God says "You are my daughter, whom I love; with you I am well pleased."  Delighted in who I am. Not what I do or what I don't do. No matter how I may have failed this week. Pleased because of an unconditional love I sometimes still can't wrap my mind around. An incomprehensible gift, simply given.

HIS plan...

I love my children....but, sometimes I just wish I could be selfish.  As a mom it is easy to get wrapped up in all your children's needs and activities and if you're not paying attention you can completely lose yourself.  This morning I was faced with the decision to be a responsible mom, focusing on what was best for her child or to be selfish and do what I wanted to do.  I chose to be responsible but was feeling a bit bitter about the decision, especially since the "selfish" option was going to church.

Let me back up a bit.  I haven't been able to sit in church and hear a sermon in over a month now due to my children's illnesses and activities.  I know there are alternatives, listening online or spending my own quiet time with the Lord and my bible but I've been missing worship and missing being spiritually fed in church.

Yesterday I had the privilege of speaking to a group of women at a church event.  While the experience was thrilling and terrifying all at the same time it only made me crave being able to get back to church all the more.  Then I came home, back to reality.  My youngest two both fighting something, one teething the other struggling with fluid in her ears.  Not quite sick but not quiet well but both cranky.

So my husband and I weighed our options.  He had to be at church as it was his week to work in the booth and record the service for the website and television.  The timing of one of us going to one service and the other going to another never seems to quite work out so Grandma to the rescue.  She agreed to watch my kids so that my husband and I could go together.  I was so excited! About going to church!

Then bed time came and this whole "spring ahead" daylight saving time business.  My kids are typically really good at going to bed, but not last night.  And my kids are typically pretty happy in the morning, but not this morning.  As my youngest was throwing herself on the floor, throwing about her tenth tantrum I knew I had a decision to make.  Be responsible and put this poor girl out of her misery and down for a nap or be selfish by taking her to grandmas and suffering the consequences later.

To bed she went.  My husband headed off to church.  Grandma picked up my non-sleeping girls and I was left with quiet and another decision to make.  I could pout that I didn't get my way.  I could throw myself a little pity party and think about unfair it all is. Or I could let God speak to me.

I turned on some worship music.  I started with a little Crowder (obvious choice for those of you that know me).

There's no space that his love can't reach

There's no space that we can't find peace

There's no end to Amazing Grace

Then I opened up my email and looked at my verse of the day.

So don't be embarrassed to speak for our Master or for me, his prisoner. Take your share of suffering for the Message along with the rest of us. We can only keep going, after all, by the power of God, who first saved us and then called us to his holy work. We had nothing to do with it. It was all HIS idea, a gift prepared for us in Jesus long before we knew anything about it. But we know it now. Since the appearance of our Savior, nothing could be plainer: death defeated, life vindicated in a steady blaze of light all through the work of Jesus. 2 Timothy 1:8-10 (MSG)

This was HIS plan since the beginning of time. That today, March 9th, 2014 I would wind up sitting in the quiet listening to God speak to my heart. Telling me that there is no place that his love can't reach and no space where I can't find peace and that there is certainly no end to His Amazing Grace.  It was HIS plan  to show us His grace through Jesus Christ.  And because he has vindicated and illuminated my life I should share the good news.  It was HIS plan even if it wasn't mine when I got up this morning.

Baby blues and loss...

My husband and I were sitting in church one day, a few months after we were married when a couple with a new baby sat in front of us.  I hadn't thought a lot about having kids before then but that day that baby kept eyeing me and smiling at me and my heart ached.  We went out for lunch after church and I brought up the idea of having a baby.  My husband was thrilled with the idea. And he was still thrilled another month later when I was jumping on the bed with a positive pregnancy test.

My pregnancy was awful.  I was sicker than sick the first five months. I had to quit my job. My husband was working construction and at the time was laid off.  I went in to preterm labor and spent the last few weeks on bed rest. He'd get me situated on the couch in the morning and then push the card table up to me.  We spent endless hours playing board games and filling notebooks with the timing of my contractions.  I was over the moon in love with Eva before I met her and was amazed at how much more I loved her once I held her in my arms.  She was simply amazing.

We came home the picture of the perfect family but things were so hard.  I was desperate to nurse her but wasn't physically able.  She lost weight and we had to wake her up every two hours to feed her.  We thought she was colicky but I wonder now if the poor girls wasn't just hungry.  I physically ached for her anytime she was out of the room that I turned down all offers for any kind of help.  I was stubborn and strong willed and thought motherhood was something I had to figure out on my own.

I became anxious all the time. I started having panic attacks more frequently. I couldn't sleep.  I ate everything in sight.  I cried almost every day.  And I completely shut everyone else out.  I wasn't interested in anything. I had no sense of self and couldn't even remember who I used to be.

I had had physical complications after delivering Eva and at one of my check ups the doctor had me answer some questions related to depression and anxiety.  It became quite clear that I was a mess both physically and emotionally.  I was prescribed antidepressants and physical therapy and I think it evened me out a bit.

After having Eva I wanted to have another baby right away even though my pregnancy had been horrendous and I was suffering physically and emotionally. Road construction wasn't booming and we were in a bad spot financially but I had always thought it would be great to have two kids so close in age.  The more time that passed the more disappointed I grew.

When Eva was around two I had come to the conclusion that maybe God intended us to be a family of three.  I started parting with the baby things I had been saving and I had peace.  When Eva was almost three we found out we were expecting.

This pregnancy was different. My morning sickness faded after a few weeks and I started to feel great.  My doctor wanted to see me sooner than normal because of my history.  At my first appointment he ordered an ultrasound to make sure everything was going well.  I was so excited to have an early ultrasound that I didn't think that anything would not be perfect.

I remember the ultrasound technician asking a lot of questions and wanting to know if I was sure about my dates.  She was very kind and thorough.  She was having trouble finding the heartbeat.  But she assured me over and over that it could be because I was so early and maybe my dates were wrong.  I had little hope that she was right.  She made a phone call to my doctor and he said he wanted to see me right away.

He confirmed my worst nightmare.  He said that I had been feeling so good because my body had stopped producing the hormones needed during pregnancy.  He said the baby was not living and that we were going to have a miscarriage.  A few days later, maybe a week, we lost the baby and my heart shattered.

We named the baby Kason Bliss meaning "pure" and  "joy".  We held a small service at our house and planted a tree that would flower in the spring outside our living room window. I feel into deep grief.  The pain was excruciating and then I was numb.  And then as my would be "due date" approached I was consumed in heartache all over again.

Two weeks after the date had passed I sat in the doctors office as she explained that we were going to try a new asthma medication and oh by the way, I was pregnant.  I was scared and nervous and excited.  But I was miserably sick for which I was thankful.

I was just as in awe of Lorelei when she was born.  Though things were not any easier when I brought her home.  Lorelei cried a lot and slept very little.  Eva was jealous and regressed and had frequent outbursts.  I quickly found myself battling the same postpartum depression demons.

A really great friend of mine told me "Look, you can be mad at me and yell and cry but I'm going to tell you you are not okay. But you will be.  You need the drugs." So back to the doctor I went for the antidepressants I really didn't like.

When Lorelei was six months old I felt like I was figuring out how to survive the day.  We were hitting our groove and then just like that I was crying over another positive pregnancy test. See, my sweet Amelia was not in my plan, not then anyway. (And she's got a story that's all her own.)

Now that I'm far enough out of that blurry, dark time I can see that God's plan and my plan are not always going to line up.  I can also see how God's plan trumps my plan every time. I can even see how God's got a sense of humor.  I got my two babies close in age, fourteen months and 1 day to be exact.

What I don't see is how God is going to use my struggles with depression and anxiety or my experiences with grief and loss.  But I have faith that my suffering was not in vain whether I see how He uses it or not.

If we don't know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter. 

He does our praying in and for us,making prayer out of wordless sighs, our aching groans. 

He knows us far better than we know ourselves and keeps us present before God. 

That's why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God 

is worked into something good. Romans 8:28

If you are someone who is suffering from depression or you know someone who is, please reach out and talk to someone.  Know that you are not alone and that there is help out there.  Here is a great site with resources to help you: HELPGUIDE.ORG. You can also call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK or the National Hopeline Network at 1-800-SUICIDE 24 hours a day.  

Love your neighbor as yourself...

When my husband and I were house hunting I don't think we ever considered the neighborhood.  We were pretty focused on the house, which is normal I suppose.  However the house we bought is in one of those neighborhoods where your house and the one next door is separated by little more than your driveway.  Definite potential for awkward moments if you and your neighbor don't see eye to eye.

We were lucky though and hit the neighbor jackpot.  The woman next door was a single, hardworking mom with two beautiful daughters.  I think the girls were pre-teen at the time and they took a liking to my husband right away.  Since sometimes he's like a big kid he was always ready for a snowball fights or a water balloon fight.  I remember one day he even came in the house and said they had pulled him over on his bike for speeding and could I "make" him some money to go and pay his fines.  I knew he was going to make such a good daddy.

It wasn't long after that that our oldest daughter was born.  The youngest next door started babysitting her when she was around six months old and she's been our go to babysitter ever since.  I've never had to worry about my kids when she's here.  They even go to bed for her which is truly remarkable.  She's always willing to help too.  Like when I was laid up in bed during my third pregnancy, not only did she come over and watch my kids all day, she also helped me make the cake for Lorelei's first birthday. Or when we were in the NICU with our youngest and she helped out watching our kids and made sure the dog got fed and let out.

She's a senior in high school and she'll be leaving before we know it.  We are going to miss her dearly.  It's been such and honor and pleasure watching the neighbor girls grow up into such beautiful and caring women.

I know they turned out so great because of the way they were raised.  I've always admired their mom.  I knew she worked hard all day, commuting thirty minutes or more and then came home and was mom and dad. She took pride in their home and was always taking care of it and improving.  Then I would think of all the others things she was doing too, laundry, cooking meals and helping with homework.  The thought of it all made me tired and I'm sure she was but it never showed. She was always so happy and positive and encouraging.

Then she met her fiance and I watched her happiness grow and grow.  And even though I know they will be moving soon, with no kids left at home to be closer to their jobs I couldn't be more delighted that they found each other.  It will be a joyous occasion when they get married in a few days.

Now maybe I'm coming off as a stalker-ish neighbor but when you live 20 feet from someone else's house for nearly ten years you develop a rapport.  We've become those neighbors who borrow a cup of sugar, a stick of butter or a bag of shredded cheese.  The neighbors who call each other when you realize you are not going to be home and the dog needs to be let out. The neighbor you call to borrow the game of Scrabble who says "Sure, I'm not home right now. But here is how you break in..." The neighbor you call to rescue your cat from a recliner or a bunny from your window well. The neighbors you find yourself talking to for thirty minutes when you only meant to take out the garbage. And the neighbors who make homemade sympathy cards when your pet dies.

They are the neighbors that invite my kids over to frost cookies or play games for a couple of hours so I can have a "mommy break" or a nap.  The neighbors that take our kids out for ice cream and collect worms for them to play with.  The neighbors who don't freak out when my girls play on their lawn and let them pull their flowers to give to their mom.  The neighbors who exchange Christmas presents and go to one another's birthday parties.

The verse "Love your neighbor as yourself" keeps running through my head.  And how could you not love your neighbor when they've always supported and encouraged and motivated you?  They've set the bar pretty high for whoever our new neighbors may be and I know that they will always have a very special place in our hearts.

An hour of prayer...

The church we belong to is holding a week of prayer.  They encouraged people to come to the church and pray for one hour, 24 hours a day for the entire week. I was skeptical at first when I heard about it. Could I pray for an hour? Why would I have to come to church to pray, can't I pray at home? Who is really going to go to church in the middle of the night to pray?

My husband and I talked about it and decided we would sign up for an hour and go there and pray together.  When I arrived to sign up the time slots where nearly full, even those in the middle of the night.  We picked 9 pm on Wednesday night and our sweet neighbor agreed to come sit at our house with our sleeping children.

On Monday and Tuesday I heard all these incredible things about other peoples prayer times.  They gushed about how God met them there and that an hour wasn't nearly long enough.  They oozed radiance as they talked about it, even if I couldn't see them in person.  What if I didn't have that kind of experience? What if I went and missed the point all together?

We arrived for our time slot and relieved the people that had been praying before us.  They were glowing, beaming really.  I was really anxious to get started and see what this was going to be all about.  We followed the guide around to different stations in the room.

At the first station we simply praised.  There was music playing and scripture to help you along.  There was an art station set up for those that like to praise that way. The next station was confession complete with note cards where you could write out your confession and then place them in the paper shredder.  There was a station in which we prayed over our church staff and leadership.  Then a station where we prayed for our community and one where we played for the world and the missionaries we sponsor.

As we followed along our prayers became more intense and I regretted the skepticism I had had about praying like this.  At the last station we were to meditate on Psalm 23 and 24 and listen to what God told us.  My husband and I took turns reading them out loud and then waited.  And God met us there.

He reminded me, in light of my post yesterday: Big Scary Dreams, that he has blessed us abundantly.  That I need for nothing. He told me I did not need to be afraid because He was walking by my side. Before we knew our hour and then some was up but it was hard to leave and when we stepped outside into the dark cold night I'm pretty sure we were glowing.

We really should have went to bed when we came home with our new early morning routine and all, but Dana had some homework to finish and my mind was so full that I really didn't think I could fall asleep.  Pretty soon it was midnight and we were just crawling into bed.

At one o'clock our 2 1/2 year old woke up.  She was complaining of ear pain and running a fever.  She shares a room with our 1 year old and even though the sleep 5 feet apart they usually can sleep through the other one's cries, but not this morning. They went back and forth with the crying while we got Tylenol and teething tablets, drinks of water, diaper changes.  We took turns separating them and trying to have them lay with us in our bed.

I seem to lose every last ounce of patience as a mom in the middle of the night.  My husband on the hand is the opposite. So patient and loving and kind. So I lay there listening to one of them cry with the other in bed with me, racked with guilt because he needed to be sleeping with these long days he's putting in.  So I took the crying child, our youngest, upstairs and told my husband to get some sleep. She's been eating us out of house and home lately so I thought maybe it was hunger pains and she needed a snack.

So that is how I found myself sobbing over Cheerios at 2 am.  My husband came up and hugged me and then he said "Of course Satan would attack us tonight."  I thought "well, yeah, since we decided to stay up until midnight." Then it hit me.  It was because we had been diligently praying, because we had been seeking God and filled with the Spirit. I was mad then and I renounced Satan and told him to get lost. It was sometime around 2:30 that everyone fell into a deep sleep and it was not easy to get up with my husband when the alarm went off at 5.  But if he was willing to do it, so was I.  We are after all, a team.

And now I sit here drinking coffee and reflecting and praising God for last night.

God, my Shepard! I don't need a thing.

You have bedded me down in lush meadows,

You find me quiet pools to drink from.

True to your word, You let me catch my breath

and send me in the right direction.

Even when the way goes through Death Valley,

I'm not afraid when You walk at my side.

Your trusty shepherd's crook makes me feel secure.

You serve me a six-course dinner right in front of my enemies.

You revive my drooping head; my cup brims with blessing.

Your beauty and love chase me every day of my life.

I'm back home in the house of God for the rest of my life.

God claims earth and everything in it, God claims the World and all who

live on it. He built it on ocean foundations, laid it out on river girders.

Who can climb Mount God? Who can scale the holy north face?

Only the clean-handed, only the pure-hearted;

men who won't cheat, women who won't seduce.

God is at their side; with God's help they make it.

This, Jacob, is what happens to God-seekers, God-questers.

Wake up, you sleepyhead city! Wake up you sleepyhead people!

King-Glory is ready to enter.

Who is the King-Glory? God, armed and battle-ready.

Wake up you sleepyhead city! Wake up, you sleepyhead people! 

King-Glory is ready to enter.

Who is the King-Glory? God-of-the-Angel-Armies: He is King-Glory.

Psalm 23 & 24

Big scary dreams...

When my husband asked me if I thought he could go back to school I immediately became his biggest cheerleader.   I knew it would be challenging to have him working full time and going to school part time with three kids under 6.  I knew there were areas I would have to "pick up the slack". But I never second guessed our decision for him to go back and God made it pretty clear that this was the path we were to take.

So I was baffled when I found myself sitting on the couch this afternoon crying.  It was his third day of school, the third day of our new "normal" and I found myself thinking "how am I going to do this for the next four years?!?"

It all started this morning when our 2 1/2 year old woke up and excitedly said "Daddy make pancakes!" I tried to explain that daddy had went to work hours ago and well, mommy is no good at pancakes.  She settled for a bowl of mini wheats, something mommy is good at.  I got to thinking about Saturdays which is always our pancake morning except he won't be here now, he'll have to be at work Saturday mornings. When I mentioned it to him he said he would teach me to make pancakes...but I have my doubts.  I'm not such a good student in the kitchen.

This led me to thinking about all the other changes. If you know me, you know that I am not a morning person.  However, I decided I really like having a hot breakfast with my husband (and honestly if it weren't for him making it I'd be eating mini wheats too).  I also thought if I had any hope of having some quiet "me" time I should try to get it in first thing in the morning.  So I've been getting up at a 5 am with him.  Last night I tried to stay up while he did homework but apparently I fell asleep sitting on the couch with my kindle still in my hand.

I knew last night he wanted to get a jump on his homework so I attempted to corral and settle the girls before bed. I'm also on my own in the mornings now, getting them all ready for the day.  Pretty soon I was feeling really overwhelmed and really tired. I felt blindsided by all the changes that were happening.  Why hadn't I thought this through? I'm a planner after all.

If I had thought it through, would I have told him not to go?

Then the tears came. I knew I had to tell him how I was feeling but I felt like I wasn't being supportive if I did.  I knew I was building things up in my head and making it seem more daunting that it needed to be.  I knew I just needed some time to get in my groove and establish a new routine.  I felt guilty that I had been taking for granted how much he helped me with the kids and around the house.

He stopped by home for a quick lunch between work and heading off to school.  I really tried to keep it all in check while he was here but he knows me so well.  As he was getting ready to walk out the door he said "Are you okay?" And I started to cry again.  He looked so torn but I knew he had to go to school. He hugged me and called me a few minutes later from the road.

I caved and told him everything I was feeling.  Unsupportive, guilty and ashamed.  He reminded me that we are a team and a really good one.  Things are going to change.  The next few years will be bumpy and challenging but we're in it together.

Once again I feel like God's making me move out of my comfort zone and pushing me to trust His plan for us.  I heard someone once say "If your dreams don't scare you, then they are not big enough."  Part of me wants to say "Oh, but things were so nice and comfortable the way they were." but I know that's not going to cut it.  Besides, if it's scary, it's usually pretty exciting too, right?

"Trust me", He said...

A few weeks ago I received an email asking me if I would consider sharing my testimony at our church's Christmas Eve service. I literally started hyperventilating while reading it and yet, my head was screaming "Yes!".  What?!?

A friend of mine happened to stop by right after I got the email and she said sweetly "We'll just pray about it."  And pray we did.  Even though my body started to panic every time I thought about it my head remained very calm. I took this as God's prompting and agreed.

Every day I prayed God would give me the words he wanted me to share.  And the days flew by and I still had nothing.  I found myself sitting in church last week, trying to watch my 2 year old sing "Away in the Manager" but my heart was racing and my palms were sweating and I was panicking.

I found myself explaining to God that Christmas was just over a week away (like He didn't know or something). I needed the words! I needed them now! And then this peace washed over me and He said "Trust me." and I didn't have any choice but to do just that.

The next day I sat down with my pastor. I thought maybe if I knew what to expect from the service that it would help me to get started.  He went over the order of the service with me and told me what he had planned for the sermon. Then he encouraged me to write it like a blog post and that part was genius.

I sat down that night and the words flowed out of my fingertips and across the keys almost faster than I could type. I realized that I had had to wait for the words until I knew what the sermon was going to be on. I sent it off to my pastor and he helped me clarify a few points and then told he told me it was perfect. I even started to get a little excited about sharing it and how God would use it.

I was laying in bed one night, unable to sleep when I was struck with absolute fear.  I realized some of the things I was going to share in my testimony I hadn't ever really said out loud, except to my husband. I have shared most of it here before but maybe I'm naive enough to think there is a certain anonymity with my blog.  It's so easy to hit "publish", put on my jammies and crawl in to bed.

And then there was the alarm I felt when my husband said we should invite our families.  It's not that I didn't want them there, I do.  It's just that I don't want them to come to hear me. I don't want anyone to come to hear me because it's not about me.  It's all about Jesus.

Then just this morning a sweet friend texted me to say she was praying for me and asking if I was anxious.  I told her that I've been keeping myself distracted with my girls and reciting verses in my head all morning. I also shared, at the risk of sounding superficial, that I was most worried about having to "get ready".  I still don't know what I'm going to wear, or do with my hair or how I'll cover my face.  This is always when Satan attacks me, when I'm trying to make myself "presentable".

And she responded with "In Matthew when he talks about worry he specifically says "don't worry about what you will wear"...I know this is really a metaphor, but it's not worth our time. Pray instead that no matter how you look people see the Holy Spirit in you. How beautiful is that to look at?!"

I realized that this had been my prayer all along. That God would receive the glory. That I could be His vessel to share His message. And so here it is:

It’s been nearly 20 years since I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I had seen councilors, taken various prescription medications and gone through an outpatient treatment program to learn coping skills. Most of the time I just felt numb.

About 10 years ago I was driving along a stretch of highway 22 between here and Hutchinson crying my eyes out.  I was tired of going through my days in a fog, feeling sad and lonely and broken.  I didn’t know where else to turn. I had lost hope.  I pulled my car over and in desperation cried out for Jesus to enter my heart and to fix me.

I was naive enough to think I would feel some miraculous healing, but I didn’t.  I did however start going back to church. I had grown up going to church sometimes and to Sunday school most of the time.  I knew all the Bible stories and had memorized verses but after I was confirmed there just didn’t seem to be a lot of reason for me to keep going to church.

 I met my husband at church.  He accepted me and all my imperfection and has shown me every day what unconditional love looks like.  It felt like walking out of a dark forest and feeling the sunshine on your face.  I thought I had found a cure in my faith.

Somewhere after the birth of our first daughter, Eva the joy started to slip away. I started to close in on myself. Even though I had Jesus in my life now, a doting husband and a precious baby, it wasn't enough. We struggled financially. We had a miscarriage and then had our daughters Lorelei and Amelia 14 months apart.

There were so many highs and lows I couldn't keep up and somewhere along the way I lost myself in the gloom.  Last winter I found myself admitting to my husband that I was having thoughts of taking my life. Even though I firmly believed I wouldn't act on them it scared me that they were there, inside my head. So I made a choice.

I chose to once again to cry out to Jesus, not to fix me this time, but to lead me. First He led me to a bible study called Made to Crave.  It changed not only the way I thought about food but the way I looked at myself.  It made me rediscover who I was as God’s child. Loved, accepted and wanted.

Then He led me to take a long hard look at my family.  My relationship with Dana was not what it should be so I chose to focus on showing him love, everyday. The depth of our love now has grown immensely. Most days my kids left me feeling tired and drained so I decided to seek joy in everyday things and to give thanks at the end of each day.  Now it’s hard not to look at my kids in complete awe.

I sought out God’s promises for me and I surrounded myself with them and then ever so slowly the negativity stopped ruling my days.  God began restoring my passion and my hope.  He began healing broken relationships in my life. He lifted the fog from my eyes and He filled me with joy. 

I once was lost but now I am found.

If you would like to join us in worship of our King at Cornerstone, services are at 7 pm tonight and 3:30 pm and 5:00 pm tomorrow (Christmas Eve).  *The 3:30 pm service will be directed towards families with young children.*

Happier giving than getting...

My six year old daughter is awesome.  She is smart and kind and funny.  And she has this not so subtle dramatic flair about her. So I didn't hesitate to sign her up for a Little Actors class last summer and she discovered she loved the spotlight, go figure.

A couple of months ago we learned of auditions for The Best Christmas Pageant Ever and let her try out.  She snagged a spot in the angel choir and a had a couple of lines.  After five long weeks of practice it was performance time.  I was able to go to all three productions and each time she delivered her lines, "Mrs. Bradley, you can have my baby brother for Jesus! .... He's not new. He's four years old. But he's double jointed and he could probably scrunch up." I cried happy, proud mama tears.  

Her confidence on the stage was visible as you could clearly hear her singing (off key) but it was music to my ears.  One of those mom moments when you thought for sure you heart would burst and overflow with love and joy.

She came home from her cast party on a high from performing, mixed with a bit of sugar.  We had her settled in bed, reading and trying to unwind and find and sleep. I was clearly not thinking when I choose that moment to go in to her room to show her the fantastic present I had found for her gift exchange at school. A giant Little Mermaid coloring book, an amazing find for $3.

She started to sob. She agreed it was fantastic, so great that she wanted it for herself. I tried to turn it into a teaching moment but quickly grew frustrated by her tears and stubbornness and my husband took over trying to reason with her. 

She had made a good argument that almost made me cave though.  She was worried about what she would get.  Surely, if she was to give away such a large and fantastic thing she should get something equally amazing in return.  See last year in her class's gift exchange she got hand sanitizer.  Even if it was Strawberry Shortcake and came with a cool little clip to hook it to your backpack, it was hand sanitizer. I felt bad that she had gotten such a bummer of a gift but I tried to explain how good it would feel to make someone happy with that gift and that in the end it wouldn't matter what she got.  I thought for sure that all my words had fallen on deaf ears.  It was one of those mom moments when I my heart felt heavy and like it might crack from the pressure.

We gave her three options and told her to think it over.  1. She could keep the giant coloring book, but she would have to miss out on her Christmas party at school.  2. We could return the coloring book and she could pick out something herself to put in the gift exchange. 3. She could make the choice to give it away and not worry about what she would in turn receive.

The next day I asked her if she had thought about what she would do.  She replied "I decided to give it away.  There was a little voice in my head or something that told me it is better to give than to receive. Or maybe I read it somewhere."

I wanted to shout "That was my voice in your head!" but I knew it had been the Holy Spirit talking to her, working on her thoughts.  I told her that she had indeed read it somewhere, for "give more than you receive" is one of our "house rules". I told her that mommy and daddy had gotten that little tidbit right out of the Bible and that surprised her. So we grabbed her Bible and turned to Acts 20:35 and I had her read aloud "In everything I did, I showed you that by this kind of hard work we must help the weak, remembering the words the Lord Jesus himself said: 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'"

Que bursting heart of love and joy.

Attitude...

I'm not sure who said "Attitude is everything." but they were so right.  Yesterday I was having one of those days where it was just so hard to have a good attitude about anything.  The harder I tried the more I got sucked in my own negativity.  I was tired and tired of feeling tired. The kids were cranky. It was snowing...a lot.  Then I finally had to say enough is enough.  I put Mia down for a nap and then put in a good workout of putting Lorelei in her snow gear.  We went outside to play and wait for Eva to get home from school and I could feel my bad attitude blow away with the swirling snowflakes.

I know it's not always that easy.  I spent many months trapped in my negativity.  It was last winter in fact.  To protect our baby who was born premature we decided to spend the winter "hibernating".  What that boiled down to was I left the house twice a week.  Once to grocery shop and once to go to bible study.  The walls of my already small house quickly closed in on me.

When Mia was about 8 months (and 4 months into hibernation) she started to regress if you will.  She simply stopped sitting and refused to be put in a sitting position.  She wasn't doing well with eating baby food and then she started to struggle with bottles too.  Now for a mama who has been hibernating for 4 months with a baby and a danger-seeking curious one year old it was almost more than I could take.

There was particular day that was going very badly.  It must have been the weekend because my husband and Eva were home to witness my frustration.  I was trying to feed Mia and she was struggling and refusing.  I threw the bottle across the room. It broke open leaving a sticky trail of formula down the wall and puddled on the floor.  I set Mia down on the floor and simply walked out of the house, slamming the door.  I got in the car and started driving, nowhere.  I was crying so hard I probably shouldn't have been driving but I felt like if I didn't escape my bad attitude it was going to make me explode.

It's funny what we do when our attitudes go south.  Kids throw tantrums.  I myself tend to cry, yell, slam doors...similar to a tantrum I suppose.  I wish I had the restraint of my husband.  When he's having a bad day he disappears to the basement and tackles the laundry with increased fervor. Somedays I think he's superhuman but I'm pretty sure God put us together so that he would balance my erratic ups and downs.

It was shortly after that episode when I witnessed one of Eva's tantrums.  I could so clearly see myself in her that it quite frankly scared me.  I didn't want to be this way and I didn't want her to think it was okay.  So began mission good attitude.

It involved a lot of prayer, continuous prayer to see things the way God sees them.  I had been participating in an online photo a day challenge for some time by then but it was amazing the way I started seeing differently.  Seeing beauty and being awestruck.

I kept a journal handy, on the top of the page I wrote "Joy is..." and everyday I would challenge myself to see joy in things and write it down and then reread it a hundred times. In those really, really frustrating moments I would go in another room and take deep breathes or if Dana was home I'd head for a walk or a bath or my bedroom.  And ever so slowly my negativity stopped ruling my days.

One night Dana and I sat down and wrote out a list of "house rules" to serve as a reminder to us and as an example to our kids of who we are and strive to be.  It did get a bit lengthy but we did it with the understanding that none of us are perfect, but there is grace. We keep it displayed in our kitchen, the hub of our home, so we all can see it.  And when an issue arises we can gently point out "rule number 12...." or whichever applies.

I was watching Veggie Tales "Sweetpea Beauty" with my girls and there was a part that struck me and has stayed with me.  Prince Larry says "How is it that you find beauty in everything?" Sweetpea replies "I don't. It's God who see the beauty in everything. I just choose to agree with him."

And so I choose to agree with him too and things (and my attitude) are ever so much brighter.

Rejoice...

For the last several months I have had this nagging cough.  The kind that keeps you awake at night but doesn't bother you during the day so you forget all about it.  I've tried everything I can think of to get rid of the cough but it continues to linger.

Last week the cough sparked a mighty asthma attack. One that forced me to abandon my cart at Wal-mart and go home (being me, I did return everything that I had placed in my cart to it's proper place on the shelf before ditching the cart).  I laid on the living room floor wondering at what point I would ask my husband to take me to the ER.  He meanwhile was googling ways to help me breathe.  He came across a homeopathic remedy that was said to help and asked if it was one I had on hand.  It just so happened to be the same one a friend had dropped off that afternoon.  I took and with in minutes I was breathing again. Divine intervention.

The next morning I woke up feeling like I had swallowed razor blades and so completely wiped out from the lack of sleep and the latest attack. My husband told me enough was enough and urged me to go and get some chest x-rays.  As I waiting for the doc to take a look at them I didn't know how to pray.  Let there be something wrong so that the doctor can treat me and the cough will go away? Let everything be okay but, Lord, please take the cough away?  The chest x-rays were clear.  However the doctor did inform me I had both a sinus infection and an ear infection.  My sinuses and my ear weren't even bothering me! Why Lord? Why is it always something?

About an hour after my 6 year old came home from school that day I noticed what looked like a rash appearing on her face.  As the evening progressed hives started to spread all over body. Early the next morning I heard her calling for me.  I bolted out of bed to find her throwing up. When she stood up she started to cry and panic saying everything had gone black and she couldn't see.  We headed to the ER.  The doc was stumped as to what was causing the hives that were continuing to get worse but said it wasn't uncommon not to know the cause.  That night the hives continue to spread until she was covered from her head to her toes.  My anxiety was through the roof.  Why God, why?

As I tucked Eva in bed that night I saw that she had copied a bible verse and it hung it on her closet door.

But Lord, I am so miserable and so tired!  I am worried about my little girl and tomorrow is Thanksgiving! You want me to Rejoice?!?!

I was expressing my irritation to my husband about how there was "always something".  His reply made me think.  He said that maybe it was to keep me humble and dependent on God, like the thorn in Paul's side.

Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weakness, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in my weakness, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.  2 Corinthians 12:7b-10

So I will rejoice for this cough in my chest and know that God's power is being made perfect in my weakness.  

A moment...

2:55 pm just a few more minutes of quiet and peace and creativity. Hurry! Hurry!

2:57 pm why aren't you watching the clock? Pay attention mama!

2:59 pm creative flow is MIA.

3:01 pm remember that one day you forgot to stand at the window and watch for the bus and Eva came into the house and you were still at the computer instead of greeting her with a smile and a hug? REMEMBER??

3:02 pm I was such a loser mom that day...

3:05 pm pay attention mama!  Well as long as I'm going to stand at the kitchen window I may as well wash the dishes, wipe down the counters, organize that drawer....

3:07 pm there's the bus!

3:08 pm where is she?? Heart racing. How long do I give her before I call Dana in a panic?

3:09 pm there she is! Calm down mama.

3:10 pm Eva's dropping her coat and back pack and talking.  Telling me about the girl in her class that just got a baby brother.  She's missed a lot of school but she doesn't think she's sick.  She thinks she's just sitting at home hanging out with her new baby brother.  Isn't that illegal?

3:11 pm I'm picking up the coat and the backpack and searching for wads of crumpled paper that could be homework or a parent letter or a prize piece of artwork. Where are all the wads of paper?

3:12 pm Eva's on a stool, pulling out a bowl and the Cheerios.  She says matter of factually "Many of the children didn't have any mail today."

3:13 pm Eva is pouring milk over her cereal.  Why are you just standing there staring mama?

3:14 pm Eva is sitting at the counter, legs crossed, nose in Junie B. book and spoon in cereal bowl.

3:14 pm what just happened here mama?!!?



Thank you to Heather at The Extraordinary Ordinary for encouraging me to Just Write and in doing so capturing one of the moments I watched my 6 year old grow up before my very eyes.