I have the Brady Bunch theme song in my head. Except in my version it goes something like this,
"Here's a story, of a man named Tony, who was married to a wife named Katie and bringing up a huge passel of kids and didn't have a maid named Alice..."
Doesn't really rhyme at all but nonetheless, there it is. Rhymeless. Uneven rhythm. It's a train-wreck of a song. Guess I have no future in the theme song business. And somehow I doubt The Brady Bunch would have been as popular if it were really about the realities of our house anyway. Our house is chaos, flawed people, and fears. But our house is also resting in the peace of God, being healed by the Holy Spirit kind of a place. No Snooki or Khardasian dazzle here.
Aside from the obvious bad lyrics, my song kinda seems to mirror life. Not my life, but LIFE. Things can feel out of sync, rolling along smoothly one minute, road bumps the next, smack into a wall the next!
We pray for things and often when we get them, they don't quite look like the picture we had in our heads. A friend said to me today, "I've been praying for a miracle but I didn't think it would be like this. I keep asking God, is this my miracle?"
I wanted a child but could not get pregnant. Then God first brought us the miracle of 6 week old Alyssa as a daughter for a season but a child of my heart for a lifetime. This definitely was NOT part of my plan: to fall in love with a precious child then watch her go and go somewhere unsafe, scary, life threatening. She turned 15 just the other day, yet in my heart she's still 6 months old, smelling of baby lotion.
In the midst of my heart ache, He placed the miracle of Gabby, one of the absolute loves of my life! This vibrant, lively woman-child amazes me with her perception, maturity, and beauty. One day she was 1. I blinked and she's on the brink of adulthood.
For many years after that I yearned for not just a child but a BIG FAMILY. But the messiness of life kept us putting off adoption again. Suddenly God brought the miraculous possibility of Will, Lydia, and Madi into our lives. It all came from a chance conversation. I thought Tony would say no but instead he said, "I think God has brought these kids for us for this time." And after a year of forms, medical checks, background checks, waiting and waiting...they joined our family in April of 2010. This October marks 3 years since a judge made it official.
God has used the 3 little miracles to peel back the layers of our own hearts, to reveal our own selfish desires. As amazing as some people mistakenly think I am, I am one of the most selfish people I know. Because I live in my own heart and mind, I hear my thoughts, desires. And they are for my own comfort.
God has also used them to show us the depths of His love for us when Lydia says, "Mommy, I love you SOOO much! You are my best mommy!" When, after I lose my temper, Will still desires my love, affection, and rushes to forgive me. How Madi always stands in defiance in time out for a few minutes then slowly wilts and I hear a quiet, "I'm sorry mommy. Can I have a hug?"
Despite my being a hugely flawed parent, my children still desire my approval, my love, my attention. WOW! Glad they don't give up on me! Glad God doesn't either!
There have been hard days that brought many tears and begging prayers. There have also been amazing moments that brought tears to my eyes and prayers of thanksgiving to my lips. But it's been 3 1/2 years of growing as a family.
So that brings me to our new miracle. We've often felt that God was calling us to adopt again. Not an imminent pressing but just a tug for "one day". As time has passed this year, the tug became more pressing and those conversations started. You know the ones. Tentative. What ifs. Could we? Maybe we could. Will needs a brother. What about medically fragile babies?
Let me clarify something before I continue with my story. This is our story. I believe God has commanded ALL of us to care for the widows and orphans. But that looks different in EVERY family. In ours, it looks like adoption. In another it might look like serving at a homeless shelter or doing foster care. Still others may take dinner to a foster family or do yard work for a widow. It looks like what God places on your family to do to serve.
What our family is doing doesn't make us any better than anyone else. It also doesn't elevate us closer to heaven! We are so far from angels or saints, if you saw me before my first cup of coffee you'd KNOW! This is the burden that God has placed on our hearts and in our lives. Not burden as in something I hate to do, but a burden that I cannot stand that innocent children suffer and there is no one that scoops them up to love them. In my mind I hear, "if not us, then who?"
That doesn't make it our goal to rescue every child in the world but it is our goal to spread the word of the need; to ignite a spark in others to act. What can you do for those who suffer? How can you help a lonely child, a homeless child, a fatherless child? If not you, then who?
God has also given me the children in my home and heart to love, cherish, nourish, and pray over. And He gives me desire. Desire to love them well. Desire to overcome my selfishness to give to them what I can and trust Him for the rest. Only you know what burden He has given you.
On with the story...
As we considered adopting again, thoughts and challenges swirled. How would we....endless list. A phone call in July to update our homestudy yielded the response, "well, you really want one too young. Let us talk about it." No more words. Time passed.
A week ago I received an email from our agency. "Would I be willing to reach out to this family? They were first time parents and were adopting 3 children. They've had them a week." So I did. They were struggling badly. We connected in the struggle. I had lived their reality. The beginning is so overwhelming.
4 days later I received a call I thought had to be a mistake. The family had decided they couldn't adopt the kids. They just were drowning in needs they had not expected, a situation that wasn't what they'd envisioned. Hard stuff.
On the phone I heard, "Would you guys be willing to take these kids? They aren't completely free to adopt but they will be in a few months. Would you consider making them part of your family?"
My gut said YES! These babies are my babies. They have suffered enough and will suffer more when this disrupts. My mouth wisely said, "Let me check with my husband because he said we don't have room for more than 2."
So in true chicken fashion...I texted him. ;)
"They called. The adoption agency just called."
"And..."
"They want us to take 3 kids, ages 5,6,7."
No reply. He walked in the door soon after, and with all calmness said, "That's nuts! 3 kids! NO!" I simply nodded. OK. 5 minutes later, "I mean we wouldn't even all fit in the car!"
I prayed for wisdom and to be OK if this wasn't His plan for us.
A few minutes later Tony said, "If we did that, where would we put everybody?" After a few more of those comments he said, "I think we should just pray about it!"
The next morning he began saying things like, "Well, I guess we could just take 2 cars until we get a bigger van. How would we do bedrooms? Do you think we could do this?" The funny thing is, as he became more comfortable with the idea, I became more nervous. I began to see all the challenges. The doubts. But I also became more certain in my heart that God was calling us to take one day at a time in faith to do this.
On Sunday morning, as I sat in church listening to Laura Story's new song, I felt the tears flow. I felt both of us just relaxing, knowing we were going to now be the parents of 7 children; But also knowing that God was calling us to this so He would walk by our side. Day by day, step by step.
We don't know much about them yet. Questions swirl in my head as I think of them.
How long will it be before we can meet?
Are they afraid of the dark?
Do they know they are unwanted?
Do they know they are wanted?
Do they know hunger or physical abuse?
Have they seen crime or domestic violence?
Do they feel loved?
Do they know they ARE loved?
Has anyone ever read a book with them in their lap?
Kissed them good night and tickled them under the chin?
Counted the freckles on their nose and told them that they were sweet because of all those brown sugar spots?
Do they know they are wanted, desired, precious?
There will still be hard days that make me want to cry. There will be beautiful moments that will bring me to tears.
But my children have more reason to cry than I could ever dream of. Two weeks ago, they came to a strange place without a single toy, stuffed animal, or change of clothes to call their own. "Here is your new mommy and daddy." And in a few days they will leave that place.
I ache for them not feeling they belong anywhere, to anyone.
The hard part is that these children are still going through the courts. They are not legally free. There is no guarantee they will be ours for life, but there is a strong likelihood. But we still have to face the fact that they could just be ours for this season. It will be 6 months, most likely, before we know for certain. If they are ours just for a season, they will remain in our hearts forever.
**Due to this, we won't be posting pics of them on FB or any other social media. That has to wait until they are legally ours. We will not post their names on my blog or FB but promise, once they are a Gonzalez, they will be everywhere! And you will hear every funny thing they ever say! :)
So that's where things stand. They will be coming to live with us as soon as paperwork, background checks, etc can be updated. Probably in the next week or two. We are, of course, in a bit of whirlwind to get our house re-organized so if you're bored anytime in the next little while, let us know. I'm sure we can put you to work. ;)
Our Family
Our Family: Pops, Me, The Teenager, The Boy, The Freckle Faced Ninja, Miss Priss, Miss Sassy Pants, Madi-Lou-Who, & Dora the Explorer
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Monday, January 7, 2013
Peace
Sometimes I am just raw. Have you ever gotten to a place where you just didn't know how much more you could take? The part of you that withstands the storm has been worn down to the raw emotion of it all. You feel like one big wound; Another blast and you will begin to openly bleed.
That has been me this Christmas season. It has not been about my Savior or even Santa, but about survival. Obviously I've gotten off track. Derailed is more like it!
I know many of you are dealing with heavy burdens that make you feel this way. Financial pressures. Loss of a loved one. Today, I'm speaking directly to the mom's of children who have challenges. Overwhelming illness, autism, learning challenges, emotional trauma It's heavy to bear and frankly, for me? I have to admit to feeling powerless some days. You're probably sensing that I might have forgotten to get down on my knees as much as I needed to lately.
You'd be right. And I'm sure I'm not alone.
How many times do we see our challenges with our children in light of our control? Our power? Our authority? Our ability to change, heal, help? And we forget that we can't do all of that. Not with out Him who made us. This is my struggle. To constantly ask God for help. Then turn my back and say, "I got this.
I began writing this several weeks back in an absolute feeling of despair. Here is what I wrote:
Have you ever seen a child who's body looks 6 or 8 but whose comprehension of the world around them is about 3? And who's emotional quotient is more like 2? Have you ever watched your child get angry? All day? About EVERYTHING you say or do? And nothing you say or do will calm them. I live with 3 children who are all emotionally around 2 years old despite their chronological age.
And when their angry their words sting. They lash out at themselves and all around them. Threats of hurting themselves. Hitting themselves when they mess up. No correction, however small, goes calmly by.
I am worn thin.
If you have don't have children or if your child has never experienced any trauma in life, I'm sure you're thinking, "That sounds rough!" and while I'm glad for your empathy, it's the understanding eyes of another mother who is raising a child from a tough place where I find solace and understanding. It's so hard to explain this to someone who's never lived it. Like trying to tell someone who has never been in love what it's like.
I am swimming in helplessness.
That was me a couple weeks ago. And honestly, it was me a few minutes ago.
If you aren't familiar with the dance most foster and adoptive kids go through around holidays, it's quite a lively one. You see, for most of us, the holidays are chaotic and joyful. We remember Christmas's full of gifts, caroling, uncle so and so who drank to much egg nog, seeing cousins, drives to visit relatives, snow, church services with candles and beauty and pageants
So here are these kids, in a NEW family (even if they've been there for years) with these great memories of Christmas. But the kids don't quite have the memories this new family has. They may have the memory of being stuck in the trunk of the car while daddy and pregnant mommy got high up front. They may remember arrests due to domestic violence or shoplifting around the holidays.
And while every expects them to be joyful, because after all, isn't that what Christmas is all about, they don't feel terribly joyful. A part of them will always be in mourning for the loss of their birth family. How do you find joy in mourning when you don't understand why you lost in the first place? Anxiety abounds in this child who knows they are "supposed" to feel happy.
They don't feel very deserving of gifts because they don't see themselves as special, deserving, beautiful. They see themselves as ugly. Destructive. Bad. Why would Jesus give someone like them the gift of salvation much less that jolly man in the red suit or their new grandma give them gifts?
That thought just sucks the breath out of me like I was punched in the gut. They don't see themselves as worthy enough for gifts so how can they accept the gift of salvation?
So while you see a super hyper kid all excited for Christmas, we see anxiety, stomach aches, anger, lashing out, and tantrums that would make any toddler proud. And while I know the root, I forget the cause and survival kicks in.
I am worn out. And I do not like who I have become. Everyday I am braced for the storm. I am waiting for the winds to hit and I cannot wait until bedtime when I can send the children upstairs and have a bit of calm before tomorrow's storm. I am ready for battle.
But I have forgotten to battle for their hearts in the battle for my sanity. I have put on armor to protect my heart rather than putting on the armor of God in my hurry to protect myself from the latest onslaught.
I have met my husband at the door with lists of the days failures for the past weeks. I have met him crying in frustration. I have laid it all on his shoulders to solve. What a heavy burden for him to bear. To his credit, he has done admirably, stepping in as much as possible, ordering sets of DVDs by the worlds most recognized adoption guru, loving on me to help me cope.
I have lived this way since before Thanksgiving. It's been a long, exhausting fight. I know there are others out there who are living this way every holiday. Or maybe every day of every year. One friend said, for her? It's summer. 3 solid months of, "will this ever end?". I feel her pain. Literally.
Then we went to church last week end. Relaxed for the first time in weeks because grandparents came and gave us a night off, away, no kids for 24 glorious hours. ;)
I listened but more importantly I heard.
We were not at our church but visited Renovation Church in Atlanta, near where we spent the night. And the sermon was about Peace. More specifically God's Peace. "Well bring it on!" I thought. "I could use some of that!!"
One of the pastors, Leonce Crump, made the statement, "This world is a living tornado and the only thing pinning me to the ground is the peace of God." That described how I've felt about life except I've been trying be the thing that pinned myself to the ground and depending on my husband to grab me when the ropes came loose.
Now, I love the verse "This is the day that the lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it." I always use it to teach my children that it doesn't matter if their day is good, they should rejoice that God gave them the day. Somehow I forgot to listen to my own lesson! But I digress.
The teaching this morning centered on Philippians 4:4-7, "REJOICE in the Lord ALWAYS; again I will say, REJOICE. Let your reasonableness (gentleness) be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; DO NOT be anxious about ANYTHING, but in EVERYTHING by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your request be made known to God. And the PEACE OF GOD, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."
Obviously the Bible isn't full of words in all caps and underlines, but those are the words that just jumped out and smacked me in the face. It's as if God KNEW I'd be at church there today. ;) He has that way doesn't He.
I have definitely not been rejoicing always. Nor have I been particularly gentle. As a matter of fact, I've been pretty hard and negative these past weeks. It's a natural human reaction, I know. But in forgetting to lay these burdens at the cross, I'd missed out on this free gift God has been offering all of us.
His peace.
One of the pastors described it as a piece of God's character; A measure of Him. Man could I use that. I can picture Jesus pouring a measure of peace over me and it just dripping down like golden honey. Can you?
Jesus told his disciples, "Peace I leave with you; MY peace I give to you. Not as the world gives, do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." John 14:27
Even if you don't have children like ours, you have your own burdens to bear. A friend suffering from cancer, a prodigal son or brother, a death you are mourning. What would having the same peace as Christ do for each of us?
In just hearing the message I find myself relaxing. It has given me breathing room and enabled me to push back the curtains of pain so that God's peace can begin to soothe my wounds. I know that I will still deal with the same behaviors tomorrow that I saw today. But I will lay that child at the feet of Jesus and be grateful that I am not in control. I cannot solve all their problems with a wave of my magic DVDs (although I love them!). I can take that peace God is offering and use it to pin me to the ground despite the whirling of my children's emotions.
I pray that you will ask God to do the same for you in whatever storm you are weathering.
That has been me this Christmas season. It has not been about my Savior or even Santa, but about survival. Obviously I've gotten off track. Derailed is more like it!
I know many of you are dealing with heavy burdens that make you feel this way. Financial pressures. Loss of a loved one. Today, I'm speaking directly to the mom's of children who have challenges. Overwhelming illness, autism, learning challenges, emotional trauma It's heavy to bear and frankly, for me? I have to admit to feeling powerless some days. You're probably sensing that I might have forgotten to get down on my knees as much as I needed to lately.
You'd be right. And I'm sure I'm not alone.
How many times do we see our challenges with our children in light of our control? Our power? Our authority? Our ability to change, heal, help? And we forget that we can't do all of that. Not with out Him who made us. This is my struggle. To constantly ask God for help. Then turn my back and say, "I got this.
I began writing this several weeks back in an absolute feeling of despair. Here is what I wrote:
Have you ever seen a child who's body looks 6 or 8 but whose comprehension of the world around them is about 3? And who's emotional quotient is more like 2? Have you ever watched your child get angry? All day? About EVERYTHING you say or do? And nothing you say or do will calm them. I live with 3 children who are all emotionally around 2 years old despite their chronological age.
And when their angry their words sting. They lash out at themselves and all around them. Threats of hurting themselves. Hitting themselves when they mess up. No correction, however small, goes calmly by.
I am worn thin.
If you have don't have children or if your child has never experienced any trauma in life, I'm sure you're thinking, "That sounds rough!" and while I'm glad for your empathy, it's the understanding eyes of another mother who is raising a child from a tough place where I find solace and understanding. It's so hard to explain this to someone who's never lived it. Like trying to tell someone who has never been in love what it's like.
I am swimming in helplessness.
That was me a couple weeks ago. And honestly, it was me a few minutes ago.
If you aren't familiar with the dance most foster and adoptive kids go through around holidays, it's quite a lively one. You see, for most of us, the holidays are chaotic and joyful. We remember Christmas's full of gifts, caroling, uncle so and so who drank to much egg nog, seeing cousins, drives to visit relatives, snow, church services with candles and beauty and pageants
So here are these kids, in a NEW family (even if they've been there for years) with these great memories of Christmas. But the kids don't quite have the memories this new family has. They may have the memory of being stuck in the trunk of the car while daddy and pregnant mommy got high up front. They may remember arrests due to domestic violence or shoplifting around the holidays.
And while every expects them to be joyful, because after all, isn't that what Christmas is all about, they don't feel terribly joyful. A part of them will always be in mourning for the loss of their birth family. How do you find joy in mourning when you don't understand why you lost in the first place? Anxiety abounds in this child who knows they are "supposed" to feel happy.
They don't feel very deserving of gifts because they don't see themselves as special, deserving, beautiful. They see themselves as ugly. Destructive. Bad. Why would Jesus give someone like them the gift of salvation much less that jolly man in the red suit or their new grandma give them gifts?
That thought just sucks the breath out of me like I was punched in the gut. They don't see themselves as worthy enough for gifts so how can they accept the gift of salvation?
So while you see a super hyper kid all excited for Christmas, we see anxiety, stomach aches, anger, lashing out, and tantrums that would make any toddler proud. And while I know the root, I forget the cause and survival kicks in.
I am worn out. And I do not like who I have become. Everyday I am braced for the storm. I am waiting for the winds to hit and I cannot wait until bedtime when I can send the children upstairs and have a bit of calm before tomorrow's storm. I am ready for battle.
But I have forgotten to battle for their hearts in the battle for my sanity. I have put on armor to protect my heart rather than putting on the armor of God in my hurry to protect myself from the latest onslaught.
I have met my husband at the door with lists of the days failures for the past weeks. I have met him crying in frustration. I have laid it all on his shoulders to solve. What a heavy burden for him to bear. To his credit, he has done admirably, stepping in as much as possible, ordering sets of DVDs by the worlds most recognized adoption guru, loving on me to help me cope.
I have lived this way since before Thanksgiving. It's been a long, exhausting fight. I know there are others out there who are living this way every holiday. Or maybe every day of every year. One friend said, for her? It's summer. 3 solid months of, "will this ever end?". I feel her pain. Literally.
Then we went to church last week end. Relaxed for the first time in weeks because grandparents came and gave us a night off, away, no kids for 24 glorious hours. ;)
I listened but more importantly I heard.
We were not at our church but visited Renovation Church in Atlanta, near where we spent the night. And the sermon was about Peace. More specifically God's Peace. "Well bring it on!" I thought. "I could use some of that!!"
One of the pastors, Leonce Crump, made the statement, "This world is a living tornado and the only thing pinning me to the ground is the peace of God." That described how I've felt about life except I've been trying be the thing that pinned myself to the ground and depending on my husband to grab me when the ropes came loose.
Now, I love the verse "This is the day that the lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it." I always use it to teach my children that it doesn't matter if their day is good, they should rejoice that God gave them the day. Somehow I forgot to listen to my own lesson! But I digress.
The teaching this morning centered on Philippians 4:4-7, "REJOICE in the Lord ALWAYS; again I will say, REJOICE. Let your reasonableness (gentleness) be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; DO NOT be anxious about ANYTHING, but in EVERYTHING by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your request be made known to God. And the PEACE OF GOD, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."
Obviously the Bible isn't full of words in all caps and underlines, but those are the words that just jumped out and smacked me in the face. It's as if God KNEW I'd be at church there today. ;) He has that way doesn't He.
I have definitely not been rejoicing always. Nor have I been particularly gentle. As a matter of fact, I've been pretty hard and negative these past weeks. It's a natural human reaction, I know. But in forgetting to lay these burdens at the cross, I'd missed out on this free gift God has been offering all of us.
His peace.
One of the pastors described it as a piece of God's character; A measure of Him. Man could I use that. I can picture Jesus pouring a measure of peace over me and it just dripping down like golden honey. Can you?
Jesus told his disciples, "Peace I leave with you; MY peace I give to you. Not as the world gives, do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." John 14:27
Even if you don't have children like ours, you have your own burdens to bear. A friend suffering from cancer, a prodigal son or brother, a death you are mourning. What would having the same peace as Christ do for each of us?
In just hearing the message I find myself relaxing. It has given me breathing room and enabled me to push back the curtains of pain so that God's peace can begin to soothe my wounds. I know that I will still deal with the same behaviors tomorrow that I saw today. But I will lay that child at the feet of Jesus and be grateful that I am not in control. I cannot solve all their problems with a wave of my magic DVDs (although I love them!). I can take that peace God is offering and use it to pin me to the ground despite the whirling of my children's emotions.
I pray that you will ask God to do the same for you in whatever storm you are weathering.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
When God Calls Us to Hard Things
Some words just freeze in you. They stick in your heart and soul and you will forever remember where you were when they were uttered. All too often they are words of anger or fear.
But sometimes...sometimes...they are words that express joy in the midst of sorrow; convict us of something; show us there is still sorrow even as we are experiencing joy. And they change us.
Last May was "National Foster Care Month" to show the reality of the children in our foster care system. To highlight the need for more foster parents. We just had Orphan Sunday recently to bring awareness to the 132 million orphans around the world. Hoping to open hearts to loving a child not of their body. Saturday November 17th was National Adoption Day.
All these National Something Days. They make me wonder what it is I should do. What is God's plan for my family? For your family? To become a foster parent? To adopt from Ethioptia, Haiti, Guatemala? To love on the foster family or the widow down the street? Sponsor a child in a 3rd world country?
God commands us over and over to take care of the widows (I believe this includes the single mom's in our communities) and orphans, over and over again. But what should I do right now?
As I wonder, I sit in my comfy home watching leaves float around on the fall wind. The sounds of the dryer and of my children playing out side and the smell of fresh baking bread are in my house. It is comfortable. It is warm. There is food. There is at least 1 discontented child upset at being sent to their room. :) But over all, there is contentment.
Last Saturday, National Adoption Day, we sat in a class for families wanting to adopt a child in foster care. Some were adopting a family member. Others were like us; they felt God leading them and they were following. We were there to tell them our story and to answer questions as those who'd walked that path a little ahead of them. We don't have all the answers, just some experience.
Lydia was snuggled up in the lap of a friend who was leading the class when the question was asked, "What do you like about being adopted?" She considered it a second and said, "I have a mommy and a daddy now."
The words hung there in the air and Will nodded along with her. Next to Lydia sat a beautiful woman whose heart was wounded as a child. She is the other trainer for the class. When they taught our class, I remember her telling a bit about her life. Around age 13 she and her siblings were put into foster care. I do not know her whole story but I can imagine the courage it takes to even utter the sentences. She was adopted by someone who sounds like she has the patience of a saint and a heart full of love for hurting children.
As my eyes caught hers, I saw simultaneously there, old pain and new joy. The tears brimmed as she tried to smile. She is still so wounded that sorrow came to her; But I could tell she also found joy that her work had helped a child be able to say they were an orphan no longer. Joy and pain in such a short sentence.
Those words, frozen in time, hanging in my heart, "I have a mommy and a daddy now."
My first thought was joyful for my children but sadness that they could even remember a time when they wondered who would be their parents. Felt unwanted by parents who didn't fight for them. Felt unwanted by a foster family who after almost 2 years didn't plan to adopt them. How do you explain to a child that you care for them but that your home is not meant to be their forever home? As adults we get that, but a wounded child?
As those words kept surfacing, I began to feel sorrow. For any who have ever felt that pain and not been able to heal from it. For any who as an adult never had that forever family adopt them.
Then the sorrow began to stir a discontent in me. I feel a sorrow so heavy I cannot cast it off. It is for the children who do not have a parent now, whether due to death, or neglect, or drugs and alcohol that have stolen that person from them.
The orphans of Uganda and the rest of Africa who have not been placed in a loving foster home or an orphanage where they will get fed but instead wander streets looking for a way to eat.
Orphans in some countries near Russia who are tied in their cribs until age 5 when they are placed in mental institutions and made to forage for food on the floor. Most die withing months of arriving there.
The orphans of Haiti and South America, living in dumps, being looked at as no better than the trash that belongs there.
The orphans of America who see their parents once a week or less, who are continually told "you're coming home soon!" only to find out after a year that they cannot go home because their parents are still on Meth. Or who are promised a "forever family" for years until at age 18 their disillusionment is larger than their hope for life.
The ones who mark themselves with tattoos, piercings, and cuttings to make their outside match the pain within.
"I have a mommy and a daddy now."
A physical, living, breathing parent is not the same as a mommy and a daddy. Existing on earth doesn't count as loving and being a family. And that is what we all crave. Family. A mommy and a daddy who love us no matter what.
It struck me last night how many stories and movies were about finding a family. Sometimes they are disguised as a love story but that's not what they are about at their core. They are about having a place where you belong. You are known. You are accepted. You are loved.
The Blind Side, Oliver Twist, While You Were Sleeping, The Proposal, Annie, Good Will Hunting,...
How many children are living stories, wishing they could utter that phrase, "I have a mommy and a daddy now?" It sort of sticks in my throat. The thought, 'what is God calling us to do about it?'
Not as a society. Not as the church. We know the answer to that one. The bible is quite clear on that point, "Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world." James 1:27.
No, as an individual. As a family. What is he calling me to specifically? What about you?
At times I have patted myself on the back that, because of us, there are 4 fewer orphans in the world. But just when the sweet music starts to play in my head and the warm fuzzies get all warmed up, the hard part of parenting wounded children kicks in. Before I can get too full of myself, I find myself on my knees begging God for help. So can't I just rest on my laurels and be done? I mean, haven't I done my part?
That's how we think. I take a meal every Wednesday to so and so. I made a blanket for that one family. I served at Thanksgiving at the soup kitchen. I direct traffic in the church parking lot. I went on a mission trip a few years back. Dust off my hands, I'm done.
But what if God's not done with us. I'm not saying there are things wrong with all those ways of serving. And I'm not saying we have to singly attempt to take every orphan in the world into our homes. It just seems that we can get comfortable in our serving. And I don't think God really likes comfort. I haven't found a bible verse yet that says, "Enjoy all your comforts oh ye ones and rest in your comfort zone."
God seems to like to call us to hard things. Growth and change are uncomfortable, yet it's what God seems to desire to see in us. And boy does He change us when He calls us to something new. Something scary. Sometimes I wonder if He doesn't call us to hard serving, not for those we serve as much as for our own hearts. My own selfish sins have certainly been revealed to me more and more as we've journey through the past several years since our adoption.
Some of you are going to say, "I'm already maxed out and never able to say no as it is." That's our challenge as women, jumping in to every request to make everyone happy. But that's the thing. Is that serving? Is that the serving that God is calling you to? Because God's serving isn't always fun. It isn't always easy. It brings us a holy discontent but it also gives us a deep inner joy we can't find anywhere else.
While you may have the gift of hospitality, having your friends over for dinner parties and hosting baby showers, while nice and all, probably wasn't God's idea of how to use that gift. Ever thought about using that gift in a ministry capacity? Throw a dinner party for women at a half-way house? Hmmm, that doesn't sound so easy now does it.
Some of us have the gift of prophesy but telling everyone what is wrong with their life, judging quickly, and then telling them how to live their life isn't exactly a servant's heart is it? But what about mentoring a friend who is having a tough time? What about leading a discipleship group of teens? What about mentoring or adopting a foster child? That isn't so easy.
For many years Tony and I have felt that at some point God is going to call us to be foster parents. To teens. I have been relieved each time we talk about it, that He hasn't called us there yet. Because that's hard serving. And it's WAY outside my comfort zone. I'm not excited about it. But at the same time, I am. Scared, terrified, and excited all at once. Because shouldn't a 16 year old have the right to say, "Because I have a mom and a dad now."? Don't they deserve that just as much as my cute young children?
I desire to live out God's heart for His children but wounded and hurt teenagers are just so...messy. They are angry. They are immature beyond belief. They are sometimes uncontrollable. Sometimes unreachable. Sometimes they are kind. Sometimes they are determined. Always they are God's children. And He sees what we cannot, past the scars and behavior, to the child within. The scared, but lovely creation He planned for.
I read Katie Davis book she wrote about her community that she's immersed herself in, in Uganda. I read her blog as she writes about being a foster mother in her mid-twenties to 13 young girls. She expresses their pain and sorrow over being deserted or having parents die. It's hard serving. Living amidst pain and sorrow.
Is God calling you to something scary? Something that seems out of your control? Something...messy? Yeah, I know that fear. I pray that God gives all of us the faith to follow Him down those messy paths. I know He will supply the path if we will take the steps. I know He will hold us up when things get hard.
And I know that we will hear those words. Words that freeze in the air and bring tears to our eyes. I pray many moments like that for you. Because they change us.
Be blessed.
But sometimes...sometimes...they are words that express joy in the midst of sorrow; convict us of something; show us there is still sorrow even as we are experiencing joy. And they change us.
Last May was "National Foster Care Month" to show the reality of the children in our foster care system. To highlight the need for more foster parents. We just had Orphan Sunday recently to bring awareness to the 132 million orphans around the world. Hoping to open hearts to loving a child not of their body. Saturday November 17th was National Adoption Day. All these National Something Days. They make me wonder what it is I should do. What is God's plan for my family? For your family? To become a foster parent? To adopt from Ethioptia, Haiti, Guatemala? To love on the foster family or the widow down the street? Sponsor a child in a 3rd world country?
God commands us over and over to take care of the widows (I believe this includes the single mom's in our communities) and orphans, over and over again. But what should I do right now?
As I wonder, I sit in my comfy home watching leaves float around on the fall wind. The sounds of the dryer and of my children playing out side and the smell of fresh baking bread are in my house. It is comfortable. It is warm. There is food. There is at least 1 discontented child upset at being sent to their room. :) But over all, there is contentment.
Last Saturday, National Adoption Day, we sat in a class for families wanting to adopt a child in foster care. Some were adopting a family member. Others were like us; they felt God leading them and they were following. We were there to tell them our story and to answer questions as those who'd walked that path a little ahead of them. We don't have all the answers, just some experience.
Lydia was snuggled up in the lap of a friend who was leading the class when the question was asked, "What do you like about being adopted?" She considered it a second and said, "I have a mommy and a daddy now."
The words hung there in the air and Will nodded along with her. Next to Lydia sat a beautiful woman whose heart was wounded as a child. She is the other trainer for the class. When they taught our class, I remember her telling a bit about her life. Around age 13 she and her siblings were put into foster care. I do not know her whole story but I can imagine the courage it takes to even utter the sentences. She was adopted by someone who sounds like she has the patience of a saint and a heart full of love for hurting children.
As my eyes caught hers, I saw simultaneously there, old pain and new joy. The tears brimmed as she tried to smile. She is still so wounded that sorrow came to her; But I could tell she also found joy that her work had helped a child be able to say they were an orphan no longer. Joy and pain in such a short sentence.
Those words, frozen in time, hanging in my heart, "I have a mommy and a daddy now."
My first thought was joyful for my children but sadness that they could even remember a time when they wondered who would be their parents. Felt unwanted by parents who didn't fight for them. Felt unwanted by a foster family who after almost 2 years didn't plan to adopt them. How do you explain to a child that you care for them but that your home is not meant to be their forever home? As adults we get that, but a wounded child?
As those words kept surfacing, I began to feel sorrow. For any who have ever felt that pain and not been able to heal from it. For any who as an adult never had that forever family adopt them.
Then the sorrow began to stir a discontent in me. I feel a sorrow so heavy I cannot cast it off. It is for the children who do not have a parent now, whether due to death, or neglect, or drugs and alcohol that have stolen that person from them.
The orphans of Uganda and the rest of Africa who have not been placed in a loving foster home or an orphanage where they will get fed but instead wander streets looking for a way to eat.
Orphans in some countries near Russia who are tied in their cribs until age 5 when they are placed in mental institutions and made to forage for food on the floor. Most die withing months of arriving there.
The orphans of Haiti and South America, living in dumps, being looked at as no better than the trash that belongs there.
The orphans of America who see their parents once a week or less, who are continually told "you're coming home soon!" only to find out after a year that they cannot go home because their parents are still on Meth. Or who are promised a "forever family" for years until at age 18 their disillusionment is larger than their hope for life.
The ones who mark themselves with tattoos, piercings, and cuttings to make their outside match the pain within.
"I have a mommy and a daddy now."
A physical, living, breathing parent is not the same as a mommy and a daddy. Existing on earth doesn't count as loving and being a family. And that is what we all crave. Family. A mommy and a daddy who love us no matter what.
It struck me last night how many stories and movies were about finding a family. Sometimes they are disguised as a love story but that's not what they are about at their core. They are about having a place where you belong. You are known. You are accepted. You are loved.
The Blind Side, Oliver Twist, While You Were Sleeping, The Proposal, Annie, Good Will Hunting,...
How many children are living stories, wishing they could utter that phrase, "I have a mommy and a daddy now?" It sort of sticks in my throat. The thought, 'what is God calling us to do about it?'
Not as a society. Not as the church. We know the answer to that one. The bible is quite clear on that point, "Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world." James 1:27.
No, as an individual. As a family. What is he calling me to specifically? What about you?
At times I have patted myself on the back that, because of us, there are 4 fewer orphans in the world. But just when the sweet music starts to play in my head and the warm fuzzies get all warmed up, the hard part of parenting wounded children kicks in. Before I can get too full of myself, I find myself on my knees begging God for help. So can't I just rest on my laurels and be done? I mean, haven't I done my part?
That's how we think. I take a meal every Wednesday to so and so. I made a blanket for that one family. I served at Thanksgiving at the soup kitchen. I direct traffic in the church parking lot. I went on a mission trip a few years back. Dust off my hands, I'm done.
But what if God's not done with us. I'm not saying there are things wrong with all those ways of serving. And I'm not saying we have to singly attempt to take every orphan in the world into our homes. It just seems that we can get comfortable in our serving. And I don't think God really likes comfort. I haven't found a bible verse yet that says, "Enjoy all your comforts oh ye ones and rest in your comfort zone."
God seems to like to call us to hard things. Growth and change are uncomfortable, yet it's what God seems to desire to see in us. And boy does He change us when He calls us to something new. Something scary. Sometimes I wonder if He doesn't call us to hard serving, not for those we serve as much as for our own hearts. My own selfish sins have certainly been revealed to me more and more as we've journey through the past several years since our adoption.
Some of you are going to say, "I'm already maxed out and never able to say no as it is." That's our challenge as women, jumping in to every request to make everyone happy. But that's the thing. Is that serving? Is that the serving that God is calling you to? Because God's serving isn't always fun. It isn't always easy. It brings us a holy discontent but it also gives us a deep inner joy we can't find anywhere else.
While you may have the gift of hospitality, having your friends over for dinner parties and hosting baby showers, while nice and all, probably wasn't God's idea of how to use that gift. Ever thought about using that gift in a ministry capacity? Throw a dinner party for women at a half-way house? Hmmm, that doesn't sound so easy now does it.
Some of us have the gift of prophesy but telling everyone what is wrong with their life, judging quickly, and then telling them how to live their life isn't exactly a servant's heart is it? But what about mentoring a friend who is having a tough time? What about leading a discipleship group of teens? What about mentoring or adopting a foster child? That isn't so easy.
For many years Tony and I have felt that at some point God is going to call us to be foster parents. To teens. I have been relieved each time we talk about it, that He hasn't called us there yet. Because that's hard serving. And it's WAY outside my comfort zone. I'm not excited about it. But at the same time, I am. Scared, terrified, and excited all at once. Because shouldn't a 16 year old have the right to say, "Because I have a mom and a dad now."? Don't they deserve that just as much as my cute young children?
I desire to live out God's heart for His children but wounded and hurt teenagers are just so...messy. They are angry. They are immature beyond belief. They are sometimes uncontrollable. Sometimes unreachable. Sometimes they are kind. Sometimes they are determined. Always they are God's children. And He sees what we cannot, past the scars and behavior, to the child within. The scared, but lovely creation He planned for.
I read Katie Davis book she wrote about her community that she's immersed herself in, in Uganda. I read her blog as she writes about being a foster mother in her mid-twenties to 13 young girls. She expresses their pain and sorrow over being deserted or having parents die. It's hard serving. Living amidst pain and sorrow.
Is God calling you to something scary? Something that seems out of your control? Something...messy? Yeah, I know that fear. I pray that God gives all of us the faith to follow Him down those messy paths. I know He will supply the path if we will take the steps. I know He will hold us up when things get hard.
And I know that we will hear those words. Words that freeze in the air and bring tears to our eyes. I pray many moments like that for you. Because they change us.
Be blessed.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
All You Need Is Love
So now that you have Paul McCartney's voice in your head..."Love is all you need..." I have a question for you. Do you believe you are loved?
When you yell at your children for no reason at all other than you just feel irritated that they interrupted your plans, do you feel loved?
When you realize you completely did something wrong at work, even though you insisted you were right, and have to not only redo it but own up to being wrong, do you feel loved?
When you exchange angry words with your spouse over something as inconsequential as which of you left something undone or socks on the floor, do you feel loved?
And when you mess up, is love always enough to fix it? Is it true, "all you need is love?" Is there time when love falls short?
I was pondering that the other day. Our children weren't feeling particularly loved. And I was misunderstanding. I thought they were just feeling out of sorts. Needed a bit of discipline.
When I finally began to realize what was going on, I knew just how they felt. We all feel unlovable at times. Times when I KNOW that I was such a bad mom today. How can the creator of the universe know the thoughts in my heart and the words of my mouth and still love me no matter what?
And sometimes, when I feel unloved, the love of my husband, while wonderful, isn't enough. Sometimes my love isn't enough to fix the brokenness inside. Not enough to heal the wound.
For some things, we cannot just love the problem away.
A child who was abandoned, abused, disconnected from, wounded, taken away...they always sees it as their own fault. They were not lovable enough. They were "bad". They feel responsible. My kids connect with that and all the band-aids in the world won't fix it.
But how can I show them that the God in Heaven loves them beyond all reckoning when in my heart of hearts I don't always feel lovable myself? How can I show them how to have faith when my own often falls short?
I began to ask myself, I know I am imperfect; I know I am a sinner; But if I get past all that, do I grasp the enormity of God's love for me? Do I truly feel I belong to Him?
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will.
Ephesians 1:3-5
I am adopted by the God of the Universe. He chose me. He chose you. He gave me my eye color, height, and extra long feet. He gave you your skin color, your laugh, and your straight or curly hair. Yet we look in the mirror and see flaws. We don't see a loved creation. We see fat, bald, irritable, imperfections, flaws, sins...
There was a girl. She was a real girl. She lived a normal life. Her parents divorced, remarried, lived life. She was a "good" girl to all outward appearances. And when she looked in the mirror all she saw was...not enough. Not thin enough. Not pretty enough. Not lovable enough.
So she sought acceptance and love. Starting in her pre-teen years she tried to fill the gap with boyfriend after boyfriend. Continued into her teen years, added being sexually active to the mix. In college she added alcohol to numb the fears.
She kept seeking. Looking for that "love" that was going to make her feel complete. Each time the boyfriend turned out to be an empty promise, she discovered that she'd given a piece of herself away. Lost a little of herself. Each break-up lowered her value. And when she looked in the mirror she didn't see hair color or freckles. She saw ugliness.
And one day, tears streaming down her face, she murmured to the girl in the mirror, "I...hate...you."
Years passed. Counseling helped heal, helped her move on. Try to bury the past. The feelings lingered. Marriage. Children. And then one day, she met God. And all the feelings of unworthiness came rushing back. How could He love me?
But He whispered into her heart, "You are MY child. I love you no matter what has happened. No matter where you have gone. No matter what you have done. You are not "bad". You are MINE."
This story could belong to so many of us. Change a few details and it could be your story. It is mine.
And no matter how often I replay that day and remember the love my creator expressed for me, I can still forget. I can let that slip away and see only the ugly. And I am surprised that no matter how much I tell my children I love them that they don't always remember it.
The same being that created the stars, streams that flow down out of mountains, trees that display glorious colors as if they were on fire every fall, and placed the sun the prefect distance from this planet to support life...He is the same being that created you and I. And we see flaws, sin.
"In him we have obtained an inheritance." Ephesians 1:11
Do I believe Christ's willingness to die on a cross in my place? In my being worth that sacrifice? Do you?
Would I give my life for Him? If I were asked to chose between my faith in Christ and my life, would I offer my life for His? I like to think my faith is that strong. Like that of Richard Wurmbrand or Deitrich Bonhoeffer. Strong enough to withstand. In the comfort of my own room, my own safe home, it is. But would it withstand a true test?
God breathes into me his love for me, his creation. The same creator who made mountains and breath-taking sunrises over them, planned for my eye color. Planned for your hair color. Planned every freckle on my son's face and the curls in my daughter's hair. Planned who would be my children. So why can I look at that sunrise and be in awe but look in the mirror and...eh, not so much. And it shakes my belief in my own faith.
And again I am surprised that my children don't always believe that God could think they are precious.
Wounded children don't even have to look in the mirror to be less than awed by themselves. They KNOW they are bad, wrong, less that adequate.
We CHOSE them. God CHOSE them for our family. We want them. And they see an unwanted, ugly being when they look in the mirror. God wanted me the day I looked in the mirror and hated myself. But I didn't see that I was chosen. I saw ugly and unwanted. Unworthy.
Isn't that the way we are fooled? So how do you and I, who are so often critical of our outer reflections and disdainful of our inner selves, convince a wounded child who sees nothing of beauty in themselves, that they are beautiful and loved. That their heart is desired by that Creator and by me. How can I convince myself of that?
That's just it. I can not. I am not enough and neither are you. We are woefully inadequate to stand in the gap that was meant to be filled by our savior. I cannot be God and Christ for my children, I have to lead them to Him and let Him do the healing. I have to let them see me open my heart to God in the same way I am asking them to.
I will continue to shower my children as much as I can with love in my imperfect way; But more importantly I will implore God to heal their hearts and show them His perfect love.
I will continually tell them how beautiful and special they are; But more importantly I will plead with God daily to show them how beautiful and special He designed and created them.
If you are one of those who only sees ugliness, I am praying right now that God will reveal to you just how very precious and beautiful you are.
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:4-7
When you yell at your children for no reason at all other than you just feel irritated that they interrupted your plans, do you feel loved?
When you realize you completely did something wrong at work, even though you insisted you were right, and have to not only redo it but own up to being wrong, do you feel loved?
When you exchange angry words with your spouse over something as inconsequential as which of you left something undone or socks on the floor, do you feel loved?
And when you mess up, is love always enough to fix it? Is it true, "all you need is love?" Is there time when love falls short?
I was pondering that the other day. Our children weren't feeling particularly loved. And I was misunderstanding. I thought they were just feeling out of sorts. Needed a bit of discipline.
When I finally began to realize what was going on, I knew just how they felt. We all feel unlovable at times. Times when I KNOW that I was such a bad mom today. How can the creator of the universe know the thoughts in my heart and the words of my mouth and still love me no matter what?
And sometimes, when I feel unloved, the love of my husband, while wonderful, isn't enough. Sometimes my love isn't enough to fix the brokenness inside. Not enough to heal the wound.
For some things, we cannot just love the problem away.
A child who was abandoned, abused, disconnected from, wounded, taken away...they always sees it as their own fault. They were not lovable enough. They were "bad". They feel responsible. My kids connect with that and all the band-aids in the world won't fix it.
But how can I show them that the God in Heaven loves them beyond all reckoning when in my heart of hearts I don't always feel lovable myself? How can I show them how to have faith when my own often falls short?
I began to ask myself, I know I am imperfect; I know I am a sinner; But if I get past all that, do I grasp the enormity of God's love for me? Do I truly feel I belong to Him?
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will.
Ephesians 1:3-5
I am adopted by the God of the Universe. He chose me. He chose you. He gave me my eye color, height, and extra long feet. He gave you your skin color, your laugh, and your straight or curly hair. Yet we look in the mirror and see flaws. We don't see a loved creation. We see fat, bald, irritable, imperfections, flaws, sins...
There was a girl. She was a real girl. She lived a normal life. Her parents divorced, remarried, lived life. She was a "good" girl to all outward appearances. And when she looked in the mirror all she saw was...not enough. Not thin enough. Not pretty enough. Not lovable enough.
So she sought acceptance and love. Starting in her pre-teen years she tried to fill the gap with boyfriend after boyfriend. Continued into her teen years, added being sexually active to the mix. In college she added alcohol to numb the fears.
She kept seeking. Looking for that "love" that was going to make her feel complete. Each time the boyfriend turned out to be an empty promise, she discovered that she'd given a piece of herself away. Lost a little of herself. Each break-up lowered her value. And when she looked in the mirror she didn't see hair color or freckles. She saw ugliness.
And one day, tears streaming down her face, she murmured to the girl in the mirror, "I...hate...you."
Years passed. Counseling helped heal, helped her move on. Try to bury the past. The feelings lingered. Marriage. Children. And then one day, she met God. And all the feelings of unworthiness came rushing back. How could He love me?
But He whispered into her heart, "You are MY child. I love you no matter what has happened. No matter where you have gone. No matter what you have done. You are not "bad". You are MINE."
This story could belong to so many of us. Change a few details and it could be your story. It is mine.
And no matter how often I replay that day and remember the love my creator expressed for me, I can still forget. I can let that slip away and see only the ugly. And I am surprised that no matter how much I tell my children I love them that they don't always remember it.
The same being that created the stars, streams that flow down out of mountains, trees that display glorious colors as if they were on fire every fall, and placed the sun the prefect distance from this planet to support life...He is the same being that created you and I. And we see flaws, sin.
"In him we have obtained an inheritance." Ephesians 1:11
Do I believe Christ's willingness to die on a cross in my place? In my being worth that sacrifice? Do you?
Would I give my life for Him? If I were asked to chose between my faith in Christ and my life, would I offer my life for His? I like to think my faith is that strong. Like that of Richard Wurmbrand or Deitrich Bonhoeffer. Strong enough to withstand. In the comfort of my own room, my own safe home, it is. But would it withstand a true test?
God breathes into me his love for me, his creation. The same creator who made mountains and breath-taking sunrises over them, planned for my eye color. Planned for your hair color. Planned every freckle on my son's face and the curls in my daughter's hair. Planned who would be my children. So why can I look at that sunrise and be in awe but look in the mirror and...eh, not so much. And it shakes my belief in my own faith.
And again I am surprised that my children don't always believe that God could think they are precious.
Wounded children don't even have to look in the mirror to be less than awed by themselves. They KNOW they are bad, wrong, less that adequate.
We CHOSE them. God CHOSE them for our family. We want them. And they see an unwanted, ugly being when they look in the mirror. God wanted me the day I looked in the mirror and hated myself. But I didn't see that I was chosen. I saw ugly and unwanted. Unworthy.
Isn't that the way we are fooled? So how do you and I, who are so often critical of our outer reflections and disdainful of our inner selves, convince a wounded child who sees nothing of beauty in themselves, that they are beautiful and loved. That their heart is desired by that Creator and by me. How can I convince myself of that?
That's just it. I can not. I am not enough and neither are you. We are woefully inadequate to stand in the gap that was meant to be filled by our savior. I cannot be God and Christ for my children, I have to lead them to Him and let Him do the healing. I have to let them see me open my heart to God in the same way I am asking them to.
I will continue to shower my children as much as I can with love in my imperfect way; But more importantly I will implore God to heal their hearts and show them His perfect love.
I will continually tell them how beautiful and special they are; But more importantly I will plead with God daily to show them how beautiful and special He designed and created them.
If you are one of those who only sees ugliness, I am praying right now that God will reveal to you just how very precious and beautiful you are.
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:4-7
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
The Day I Ate Dog Food
OK, this can only happen to a mom. Or a toddler. Because a normal person doesn't eat dog food. Not on purpose anyway. You've probably never done something like this. If you have, you understand my reaction. If you haven't, stop reading now and keep your innocence! And if you're my mother-in-law, don't read another word. This story will make you gag!
So I'm eating leftover pizza for breakfast, standing at the counter, talking with my husband. Yes, you read that right. I still live like a college kid when I can, eating pizza for breakfast (at least I heat it) and cereal for dinner. But don't tell anyone because I'm married to this health nut guy who thinks all problems are solved (I'm sure he's right but don't tell him I said that) with the right vitamins and exercise. I recently told him my shin hurt from hitting it and he told me I needed to work out. :)
Anyway, the kids weren't up yet, so not only was I eating pizza for breakfast, while my husband ate his healthy egg and toast, I was SNEAKING it. Because they were gonna get Cheerios. I'm also a bit immature and don't share well. :)
So while enjoying my pizza and early morning chat with my spouse, I dropped a piece of pepperoni. Now I fully embrace the 5 second rule, or I did before this day, so I grabbed it and popped it in my mouth. And it crunched. Not the crunch of over-cooked pepperoni. The crunch of something that did not belong in my mouth.
At first my mind tried to make sense of it. Then my mouth rebelled. Because, while all I could taste in that first crunch was pepperoni, my mind remembered that I had just fed the dog. In that very spot. And I'd dropped some dry dog food on the floor.
Apparently when I scooped up my innocently delicious piece of pepperoni, I'd also scooped up the small piece of dog food that was under it. So I'm starting to gag.
As I mumble something about having just eaten a piece of dog food and proceed to spit out my mouthful in the trash, my supportive husband just stood there and laughed. Laughed!
After rinsing my mouth out repeatedly for probably 10 minutes, I actually could not eat another bite. Every time I looked at the pepperoni I dry heaved! Literally. So part of me was lamenting wasted pizza while the other half wanted to go brush my teeth 15 times. I did 3 times.
I know most of you have no idea what I am talking about. Thank your creator. I feel as if my innocence was lost and I can no longer wonder what dog food tastes like. Because it tastes like it smells. I have no idea how the dog manages to get it down but I now am more than willing to feed him table scraps!
So I'm eating leftover pizza for breakfast, standing at the counter, talking with my husband. Yes, you read that right. I still live like a college kid when I can, eating pizza for breakfast (at least I heat it) and cereal for dinner. But don't tell anyone because I'm married to this health nut guy who thinks all problems are solved (I'm sure he's right but don't tell him I said that) with the right vitamins and exercise. I recently told him my shin hurt from hitting it and he told me I needed to work out. :)
Anyway, the kids weren't up yet, so not only was I eating pizza for breakfast, while my husband ate his healthy egg and toast, I was SNEAKING it. Because they were gonna get Cheerios. I'm also a bit immature and don't share well. :)
So while enjoying my pizza and early morning chat with my spouse, I dropped a piece of pepperoni. Now I fully embrace the 5 second rule, or I did before this day, so I grabbed it and popped it in my mouth. And it crunched. Not the crunch of over-cooked pepperoni. The crunch of something that did not belong in my mouth.
At first my mind tried to make sense of it. Then my mouth rebelled. Because, while all I could taste in that first crunch was pepperoni, my mind remembered that I had just fed the dog. In that very spot. And I'd dropped some dry dog food on the floor.
Apparently when I scooped up my innocently delicious piece of pepperoni, I'd also scooped up the small piece of dog food that was under it. So I'm starting to gag.
As I mumble something about having just eaten a piece of dog food and proceed to spit out my mouthful in the trash, my supportive husband just stood there and laughed. Laughed!
After rinsing my mouth out repeatedly for probably 10 minutes, I actually could not eat another bite. Every time I looked at the pepperoni I dry heaved! Literally. So part of me was lamenting wasted pizza while the other half wanted to go brush my teeth 15 times. I did 3 times.
I know most of you have no idea what I am talking about. Thank your creator. I feel as if my innocence was lost and I can no longer wonder what dog food tastes like. Because it tastes like it smells. I have no idea how the dog manages to get it down but I now am more than willing to feed him table scraps!
Saturday, October 13, 2012
My left leg and other oddities
I have discovered something. I'm right legged. Over the past year or so, I've noticed that when we are standing during worship at church, that my right leg keeps time to the music. My left leg is unable to keep the beat. So I've come to the conclusion that I'm right legged.
Now, I know your attention never wanders during church. This is no reflection on the music, service, or anything else other than my ADDishness at times. Someone out there is shocked that I focus on my leg during church (others of you know how fitting it is!). It's not a focus, more of a passing thought. But it plagues me. Every service. This inability of my left leg to keep time.
Now I notice other odd things about me. I drive better with my left hand. Especially if my right hand has a cup of coffee or a phone. I cannot swap hands and be as proficient. I'm liable to spill my coffee. And that would be a tragedy!
I talk to myself when I'm alone. Out loud. In the car. Sometimes I even argue with myself. Sometimes I tell off someone who made me mad. Of course sometimes people I know notice and tell me they saw me "singing" at a traffic light the other day. Yup. Beltin' one out! That's not the odd part. I think all of you do that too, you just don't admit it! But when I talk to myself, if I say a word I wouldn't normally say in front of my children, I apologize. To the empty van. And to God. Because they both care that I just said, "crap" in front of no one.
Now I know some of you are thinking, "That's not ALL that's odd about you!" Hush. Some things just don't need to be said out loud. ;)
I have a sarcastic streak in me a mile wide that my husband and children are privileged to deal with 24/7. There are times when I am in a very sincere conversation with someone, that I have to really restrain myself from voicing the sarcastic thoughts that are flowing through my mind. It's like some sort of curse! Every once in a while Tony will suggest that we work on lessening the sarcasm around the house. That's like telling Shrek to not be sarcastic. I just tell him that's why he married me. For my caustic wit!
I take great joy things that are a bit odd. The fact that our 25 lb dog is afraid of rain (not storms just rain), squirrels when it's dark, and getting his paws wet make me laugh probably harder than it merits. I love when our teenager, who is brighter than me, uses words like "rhetorical", almost correctly, but not quite. (i.e. while reading Harry Potter, "How does getting bitten by a werewolf kill you? That's probably one of those rhetorical questions.") I love that when discussing superpowers we'd like, our 6 year old's would be to have a fairy.
I have to restrain myself from rearranging the dishwasher EVERY time someone else loads it. Wrong. Because there is a right way to load the dishwasher just as there is a right way to put the roll of toilet paper (over). I think I'm a bit like that crazy guy in Ace Ventura sometimes, "Laces OUT!" There's also a right and wrong way to fold towels and I compulsively refold them after someone else does it. Same with t-shirts. My husband has actually been telling me for 17 years to stop folding his undies. Yeah, good luck with that one!
I order a large coffee at the drive through with 2 splendas and 10 creamers just to hear the reaction. OK, I do love the creamer in my coffee but I love the, "How many creamers did you say?" reaction.
I have to restrain my laughter when one of my kids asks a question loudly that embarrasses the other person about something dumb the person is doing. Like, "Mommy if cigarettes are so stinky and kill you, why is that man smoking one?" "Mom, why does that man have a ring in his nose?" "Why is that woman in the store in just her bra?" I know it's inappropriate and I am extraordinarily juvenile! I do correct the kids before the person in question comes after us. But inside? I'm dying laughing.
I check Face Book before I check my email.
I always check the mailbox for spiders before sticking my hand in there!
I occasionally make raw cookie dough using splenda and justify it's "healthier", but I hide it from the kids!
Sometimes I go in the bathroom, pretending I gotta go, and lock myself in just to get 5 minutes alone. Usually gets me about 30 seconds.
Well I'm sure most of you could add 50 things to this that are odd about me. Just food for thought that I'm odd and still found a man to marry me and his family hasn't pretended not to know us yet. That's always a possibility after they read this though! :)
Now, I know your attention never wanders during church. This is no reflection on the music, service, or anything else other than my ADDishness at times. Someone out there is shocked that I focus on my leg during church (others of you know how fitting it is!). It's not a focus, more of a passing thought. But it plagues me. Every service. This inability of my left leg to keep time.
Now I notice other odd things about me. I drive better with my left hand. Especially if my right hand has a cup of coffee or a phone. I cannot swap hands and be as proficient. I'm liable to spill my coffee. And that would be a tragedy!
I talk to myself when I'm alone. Out loud. In the car. Sometimes I even argue with myself. Sometimes I tell off someone who made me mad. Of course sometimes people I know notice and tell me they saw me "singing" at a traffic light the other day. Yup. Beltin' one out! That's not the odd part. I think all of you do that too, you just don't admit it! But when I talk to myself, if I say a word I wouldn't normally say in front of my children, I apologize. To the empty van. And to God. Because they both care that I just said, "crap" in front of no one.
Now I know some of you are thinking, "That's not ALL that's odd about you!" Hush. Some things just don't need to be said out loud. ;)
I have a sarcastic streak in me a mile wide that my husband and children are privileged to deal with 24/7. There are times when I am in a very sincere conversation with someone, that I have to really restrain myself from voicing the sarcastic thoughts that are flowing through my mind. It's like some sort of curse! Every once in a while Tony will suggest that we work on lessening the sarcasm around the house. That's like telling Shrek to not be sarcastic. I just tell him that's why he married me. For my caustic wit!
I take great joy things that are a bit odd. The fact that our 25 lb dog is afraid of rain (not storms just rain), squirrels when it's dark, and getting his paws wet make me laugh probably harder than it merits. I love when our teenager, who is brighter than me, uses words like "rhetorical", almost correctly, but not quite. (i.e. while reading Harry Potter, "How does getting bitten by a werewolf kill you? That's probably one of those rhetorical questions.") I love that when discussing superpowers we'd like, our 6 year old's would be to have a fairy.
I have to restrain myself from rearranging the dishwasher EVERY time someone else loads it. Wrong. Because there is a right way to load the dishwasher just as there is a right way to put the roll of toilet paper (over). I think I'm a bit like that crazy guy in Ace Ventura sometimes, "Laces OUT!" There's also a right and wrong way to fold towels and I compulsively refold them after someone else does it. Same with t-shirts. My husband has actually been telling me for 17 years to stop folding his undies. Yeah, good luck with that one!
I order a large coffee at the drive through with 2 splendas and 10 creamers just to hear the reaction. OK, I do love the creamer in my coffee but I love the, "How many creamers did you say?" reaction.
I have to restrain my laughter when one of my kids asks a question loudly that embarrasses the other person about something dumb the person is doing. Like, "Mommy if cigarettes are so stinky and kill you, why is that man smoking one?" "Mom, why does that man have a ring in his nose?" "Why is that woman in the store in just her bra?" I know it's inappropriate and I am extraordinarily juvenile! I do correct the kids before the person in question comes after us. But inside? I'm dying laughing.
I check Face Book before I check my email.
I always check the mailbox for spiders before sticking my hand in there!
I occasionally make raw cookie dough using splenda and justify it's "healthier", but I hide it from the kids!
Sometimes I go in the bathroom, pretending I gotta go, and lock myself in just to get 5 minutes alone. Usually gets me about 30 seconds.
Well I'm sure most of you could add 50 things to this that are odd about me. Just food for thought that I'm odd and still found a man to marry me and his family hasn't pretended not to know us yet. That's always a possibility after they read this though! :)
Friday, July 13, 2012
Multiple Children
I remember listening to a Bill Cosby routine where he said he didn't think people with only 1 child were "real parents". While I disagree with him on that statement, I know where he was going.
When there was only one child in our home, she lived under laser focus from her parents. She couldn't breathe sideways without one of us giving her encouragement, advice, criticism, pointers, consequences, etc. That same child recently looked at me in indignation when one of her siblings committed a rule infraction that would have caused her serious consequences and my response? "Oh well. She won't die."
No one could pick on her because she was never more than an arms length away. Her father began teaching her shapes with flashcards when she was 2 1/2. "Circle, square, parallelogram..." Brilliance in the making. Now her siblings are home schooled and she frequently asks with a hint of indignation in her voice, "Did you even DO school today?" As I sit there, all of us still in PJ's and answer back, "Why yes, we did. We were done by lunchtime. Just in time for a nap!" I wonder why she asked that?
The oldest child was always dressed perfectly, hair in cute little braids, shoes matching...at least she was until she developed an opinion about her clothes. Her mother usually looked fairly neat at least and didn't leave the house without make up.
The siblings, they started that way. Efforts were made to have matching bows, cute shoes, shirts without holes, hair brushed neatly. Somewhere it just got to be too much. Now they wear their PJ's all day and beg the mother to put on shorts and a t-shirt. The mother doesn't wear make up unless she's meeting someone new and frequently applies it in the car!
The oldest child rarely got into trouble. Not because she is so perfect. Because she had limited resources. It was just her and her imagination. You put 4 kids together and you just quadrupled the trouble-making potential! 4 times the creativity, ideas, and, strength.
For example, in our last house, the gate on our chain link back fence disappeared. Just flat gone. When I inquired if anyone had an idea of when it disappeared, because it had not yet occurred to me that my children would have removed a 3'x4' 30 lb metal gate, they told me "those people who live back there took it! So I'm ready to call the police to report the theft when they followed it up with, "It was in our fort one day and gone the next so we know they took it!"
"Come again? It was in your fort?" That is the point when your mom voice begins to raise several octaves. Kids frequently view this as mom going nuts but fail to see it as the danger warning that it is. Apparently when some workmen bent it they heard me say, "I guess we'll have to get a new one" and assumed I'd just presented it to them as a gift!
Or there was the more recent moment when our 6 year old opened her bedroom window to holler at her siblings on the back deck below. "Throw it to me" seemed like a logical suggestion to them so she pushed out her screen and they commenced a game of 'catch the dog's toy' while she hung out the 2nd story window. I now understand why Bill Cosby said his wife would talk to herself!
Now the very supportive father of these darling little geniuses recently informed me that he can tell the kind of day the children have had by how he is greeted at the door.
Smiling, talking wife means the children rose above all expectations and behaved. All day. And got along. All day. I think that's happened once or twice.
Wife on Face Book, grunting hello means we've had a tough day and will you please put those monsters to bed while I veg. Then fix me a glass of vino, por favor!
Then there's "Kari" mom. That, he explained to me, is when he can tell we need a vacation. He arrives home to find the children already in bed. Usually been there since like 4:00. Or lunchtime. The wife greets him at the door a bit like Kari from the Incredibles greets the "replacement sitter" after 24 hours babysitting Jack-Jack the exploding baby! This is when he realizes it's time to get his wife away from reality for a day or 2!
What Bill Cosby described as "The same thing happens every night", bath time snafu, when I only had 1 child I really didn't understand. Why couldn't they just follow mom's directions, bathe, and get dressed for bed? How hard can that be? Our child did it just fine. Now I totally get it!
For your joy, laughter, and sympathy, let me present to you the same skit of "The same thing happens every night" at our house:
I am present for all bath time activities for all children under 10 in our house, mainly because I want soap and shampoo to last past 1 day. So, I put it up where no one can reach it but me. It has very little to do with insuring cleanliness. On the rare occasions when the father is asked to bathe the children he has to come ask where I've hidden the shampoo. I am present and chaos still ensues!!
I line up the little people and bathe them one at a time. The other 2 are supposed to undress, put their clothes in the dirty laundry hamper, then sit quietly waiting their turn. Instead they begin to chase each other around, throwing dirty clothes like missiles, while I wash the 3 year old. "Stop that, daddy is trying to get some work done!" I'd tell them, while the 3 year old would yell their names in my ear, trying to get their attention.
I manage to get the 3 year old clean and dried off and call her 6 year old sister to get in the tub. The 6 year old decides I want to play chase and won't get in the tub. Finally I yell, they all freeze and look at me like I'm nuts. She gets in the tub subdued while the 3 year old throws down her towel and goes over to dip her hands in to splash her sister, me, and the bathroom. The boy child is standing in the doorway saluting when he decides to dance naked to entertain the now wet again 3 year old. I make him sit on the toilet seat and tell the 3 year old to get her pajamas on NOW! She dashes from the room to hopefully fulfill her orders.
I finish bathing the 6 year old, call to the 3 year old, "Are you in your PJ's?" "Almost" she responds. Hmm. The 6 year old gets out and is not quite dry when her naked sister reappears wearing flip flops, a hat, and sunglasses. Carrying a purse. She has the nerve to look shocked when I ask where are her pajamas.
I send them away with threats of a lifetime in timeout and commence bathing the boy. He is telling me telling me how he can wash himself without help and demonstrates the "washed but not clean in 0-15 seconds" method. Meanwhile the teenager appears in the bathroom door annoyed to tell me that 2 naked girls keep banging on her bedroom door. I tell her to watch the boy wash over again and head out to do crowd control.
Both girls are running around the upstairs naked, and when I say, "Go get your pajamas on!" that just sends them in to Vector (from Despicable Me) imitations, "They're NOT pajamas!" they yell giggling and then they are dancing like Gru and Vector naked in the hallway. At this point I usually blow my threats by laughing at them before I manhandle them into PJ's.
Just as I get them calm the boy comes dancing in, still wet and naked, to tell us he's done. The teenager, thoroughly disgusted that she had to watch her little brother shower, goes to hide in her room in protest. I have begun banishing them to their rooms while one bathes in the interest of self-preservation!
Then there's the whole sibling thing. I had no idea that a 3 year old could throw a punch but our 6 year old has the bruises to prove it. Apparently you don't take back the barbie the 3 year old stole from you unless you are prepared to defend yourself.
Of course the 3 year old learned everything she knows from that older sister who, when she was 3 would notice her barely toddling little sister look sideways at her toys and proceed to pull hair and bite. She learned well.
And the shrillness of a sibling who has had something taken from them is amazing. I had no idea a voice could go that high and not shatter glass!
Going to the pool is like an exercise in preparation for a heart attack. My inner lifeguard is still on duty and is quite uptight!
The boy dives and flips where he shouldn't, runs on wet cement, and stays underwater as long as he can, all to make me think he is a second away from death the entire time we are at the pool.
The 6 year old swims better than she thinks she can so she panics every 15 seconds and sometimes grabs on a smaller child thinking that will hold her up. The other day she yells to my friend, "catch me" and swims away from the side of the pool in water too deep for her to stand in. Now my friend already was holding a 2 year old and "catching" her own 6 year old. It's a wonder they didn't all go down when the S.S. Lydia dove into them!
The 3 year old spends the entire 2-3 hour excursion "jumping to mommy" and I spend the whole time wiping water out of my eyes to check on everyone else. All 3 of them want me to watch everything they do so their yells of "Mommy" mingle with the other 25 kids yelling the same thing.
All the while the teenager stands by my side wanting to tell me about something and I want to be present and listen to her while wiping the water from my eyes from catching the 3 year old and scanning the pool for the boy and the 6 year old to make sure they haven't drowned yet. And my friends keep wondering why we don't want to go to the pool more often. Give me a sprinkler in the backyard, thank you.
It's funny how in the moment most of these experiences make me wonder whose neck to ring. Sometimes I even wonder if God knew what he was doing giving me these children. I wonder if we really should adopt more or just quit while we're ahead. But in these rare moments of retrospection when all is peaceful, I think back and they just make me smile. I guess we're having one of those rare days when everyone is getting along and hopefully daddy will be greeted by a smiling wife tonight. Of course we did just go on vacation. ;)
When there was only one child in our home, she lived under laser focus from her parents. She couldn't breathe sideways without one of us giving her encouragement, advice, criticism, pointers, consequences, etc. That same child recently looked at me in indignation when one of her siblings committed a rule infraction that would have caused her serious consequences and my response? "Oh well. She won't die."
No one could pick on her because she was never more than an arms length away. Her father began teaching her shapes with flashcards when she was 2 1/2. "Circle, square, parallelogram..." Brilliance in the making. Now her siblings are home schooled and she frequently asks with a hint of indignation in her voice, "Did you even DO school today?" As I sit there, all of us still in PJ's and answer back, "Why yes, we did. We were done by lunchtime. Just in time for a nap!" I wonder why she asked that?
The oldest child was always dressed perfectly, hair in cute little braids, shoes matching...at least she was until she developed an opinion about her clothes. Her mother usually looked fairly neat at least and didn't leave the house without make up.
The siblings, they started that way. Efforts were made to have matching bows, cute shoes, shirts without holes, hair brushed neatly. Somewhere it just got to be too much. Now they wear their PJ's all day and beg the mother to put on shorts and a t-shirt. The mother doesn't wear make up unless she's meeting someone new and frequently applies it in the car!
The oldest child rarely got into trouble. Not because she is so perfect. Because she had limited resources. It was just her and her imagination. You put 4 kids together and you just quadrupled the trouble-making potential! 4 times the creativity, ideas, and, strength.
For example, in our last house, the gate on our chain link back fence disappeared. Just flat gone. When I inquired if anyone had an idea of when it disappeared, because it had not yet occurred to me that my children would have removed a 3'x4' 30 lb metal gate, they told me "those people who live back there took it! So I'm ready to call the police to report the theft when they followed it up with, "It was in our fort one day and gone the next so we know they took it!"
"Come again? It was in your fort?" That is the point when your mom voice begins to raise several octaves. Kids frequently view this as mom going nuts but fail to see it as the danger warning that it is. Apparently when some workmen bent it they heard me say, "I guess we'll have to get a new one" and assumed I'd just presented it to them as a gift!
Or there was the more recent moment when our 6 year old opened her bedroom window to holler at her siblings on the back deck below. "Throw it to me" seemed like a logical suggestion to them so she pushed out her screen and they commenced a game of 'catch the dog's toy' while she hung out the 2nd story window. I now understand why Bill Cosby said his wife would talk to herself!
Now the very supportive father of these darling little geniuses recently informed me that he can tell the kind of day the children have had by how he is greeted at the door.
Smiling, talking wife means the children rose above all expectations and behaved. All day. And got along. All day. I think that's happened once or twice.
Wife on Face Book, grunting hello means we've had a tough day and will you please put those monsters to bed while I veg. Then fix me a glass of vino, por favor!
Then there's "Kari" mom. That, he explained to me, is when he can tell we need a vacation. He arrives home to find the children already in bed. Usually been there since like 4:00. Or lunchtime. The wife greets him at the door a bit like Kari from the Incredibles greets the "replacement sitter" after 24 hours babysitting Jack-Jack the exploding baby! This is when he realizes it's time to get his wife away from reality for a day or 2!
What Bill Cosby described as "The same thing happens every night", bath time snafu, when I only had 1 child I really didn't understand. Why couldn't they just follow mom's directions, bathe, and get dressed for bed? How hard can that be? Our child did it just fine. Now I totally get it!
For your joy, laughter, and sympathy, let me present to you the same skit of "The same thing happens every night" at our house:
I am present for all bath time activities for all children under 10 in our house, mainly because I want soap and shampoo to last past 1 day. So, I put it up where no one can reach it but me. It has very little to do with insuring cleanliness. On the rare occasions when the father is asked to bathe the children he has to come ask where I've hidden the shampoo. I am present and chaos still ensues!!
I line up the little people and bathe them one at a time. The other 2 are supposed to undress, put their clothes in the dirty laundry hamper, then sit quietly waiting their turn. Instead they begin to chase each other around, throwing dirty clothes like missiles, while I wash the 3 year old. "Stop that, daddy is trying to get some work done!" I'd tell them, while the 3 year old would yell their names in my ear, trying to get their attention.
I manage to get the 3 year old clean and dried off and call her 6 year old sister to get in the tub. The 6 year old decides I want to play chase and won't get in the tub. Finally I yell, they all freeze and look at me like I'm nuts. She gets in the tub subdued while the 3 year old throws down her towel and goes over to dip her hands in to splash her sister, me, and the bathroom. The boy child is standing in the doorway saluting when he decides to dance naked to entertain the now wet again 3 year old. I make him sit on the toilet seat and tell the 3 year old to get her pajamas on NOW! She dashes from the room to hopefully fulfill her orders.
I finish bathing the 6 year old, call to the 3 year old, "Are you in your PJ's?" "Almost" she responds. Hmm. The 6 year old gets out and is not quite dry when her naked sister reappears wearing flip flops, a hat, and sunglasses. Carrying a purse. She has the nerve to look shocked when I ask where are her pajamas.
I send them away with threats of a lifetime in timeout and commence bathing the boy. He is telling me telling me how he can wash himself without help and demonstrates the "washed but not clean in 0-15 seconds" method. Meanwhile the teenager appears in the bathroom door annoyed to tell me that 2 naked girls keep banging on her bedroom door. I tell her to watch the boy wash over again and head out to do crowd control.
Both girls are running around the upstairs naked, and when I say, "Go get your pajamas on!" that just sends them in to Vector (from Despicable Me) imitations, "They're NOT pajamas!" they yell giggling and then they are dancing like Gru and Vector naked in the hallway. At this point I usually blow my threats by laughing at them before I manhandle them into PJ's.
Just as I get them calm the boy comes dancing in, still wet and naked, to tell us he's done. The teenager, thoroughly disgusted that she had to watch her little brother shower, goes to hide in her room in protest. I have begun banishing them to their rooms while one bathes in the interest of self-preservation!
Then there's the whole sibling thing. I had no idea that a 3 year old could throw a punch but our 6 year old has the bruises to prove it. Apparently you don't take back the barbie the 3 year old stole from you unless you are prepared to defend yourself.
Of course the 3 year old learned everything she knows from that older sister who, when she was 3 would notice her barely toddling little sister look sideways at her toys and proceed to pull hair and bite. She learned well.
And the shrillness of a sibling who has had something taken from them is amazing. I had no idea a voice could go that high and not shatter glass!
Going to the pool is like an exercise in preparation for a heart attack. My inner lifeguard is still on duty and is quite uptight!
The boy dives and flips where he shouldn't, runs on wet cement, and stays underwater as long as he can, all to make me think he is a second away from death the entire time we are at the pool.
The 6 year old swims better than she thinks she can so she panics every 15 seconds and sometimes grabs on a smaller child thinking that will hold her up. The other day she yells to my friend, "catch me" and swims away from the side of the pool in water too deep for her to stand in. Now my friend already was holding a 2 year old and "catching" her own 6 year old. It's a wonder they didn't all go down when the S.S. Lydia dove into them!
The 3 year old spends the entire 2-3 hour excursion "jumping to mommy" and I spend the whole time wiping water out of my eyes to check on everyone else. All 3 of them want me to watch everything they do so their yells of "Mommy" mingle with the other 25 kids yelling the same thing.
All the while the teenager stands by my side wanting to tell me about something and I want to be present and listen to her while wiping the water from my eyes from catching the 3 year old and scanning the pool for the boy and the 6 year old to make sure they haven't drowned yet. And my friends keep wondering why we don't want to go to the pool more often. Give me a sprinkler in the backyard, thank you.
It's funny how in the moment most of these experiences make me wonder whose neck to ring. Sometimes I even wonder if God knew what he was doing giving me these children. I wonder if we really should adopt more or just quit while we're ahead. But in these rare moments of retrospection when all is peaceful, I think back and they just make me smile. I guess we're having one of those rare days when everyone is getting along and hopefully daddy will be greeted by a smiling wife tonight. Of course we did just go on vacation. ;)
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