I had a very well thought out plan today to update our blog about the adoption. I haven't posted since October and its been a wild few months and this whole writing thing is a coping mechanism for me........but the expansion of our family, seems exponentially insignificant when so many families got smaller today. An adoption update will come, but I need to write about today.
Cole had a doctors appointment this morning before school. Usually in the mornings, the first thing he does is ask me to put in the Christmas CD that's been on repeat since the last week in October. Today he sat quietly in the backseat and gazed out the window. He was thinking. Right before we pulled in to the doctors office he said, "Mom, did you know that there was an attack on America in New York?" My heart stopped. "Yes, I did know that. It was in 2001." He replied, "can you tell me what happened?" So I did. I explained why America is a hated country, why "bad men" wanted to kill Americans, and how they did it. And I started crying. And so did Cole. Today was the first day that I ever explained the essence of evil to my precious son. In his tiny little 6 year old body there is an enormous, deeply effected heart. There's so much of me in him. The hurt. The way his brain grasps from every angle to comprehend the pain. And the way it bothers him that it just never can. That there is no justification for the loss of life. He gets it. My sweet Cole has a heart for the hurting. It started with orphans. The first time he learned that there aren't enough orphanages or foster homes for all of the kids in the world without Moms and Dads.....and that some of them will die from hunger, disease, lack of clean drinking water, abuse.....I could see it in his eyes. At the ripe age of 6 he's deciding to make a difference. And the first step is that he deeply cares.......and he loves Jesus. Its a HUGE first step.
I remember 9/11 like it was yesterday. I was a freshman at USC in Columbia and I was up getting ready for class when the phone rang and my Mom told me to turn on the TV. NYC was familiar to me. We spent so much time there when I was growing up visiting my grandparents that lived in NJ right outside the city. I was tuning in as they were replaying footage of the first plane hitting the towers. The loss of human life at the hands of raw evil. Its been 11 years and my mind is nowhere closer to understanding why. Since then, school shootings, church shootings, suicide bombers, child rape, sex trafficking, and a sickeningly long list of other tragedies are everywhere you look. There's no escaping it. Last night I went to bed praying for a little boy in Texas that's Coles age. His father carved a pentagram into his back with a box cutter. It was hard for me to think Christian thoughts when I read that. It was impossible to hold back the tears. To hurt for this little boy. For his broken heart. For his abused body.
And today. I'm still sick to my stomach. It feels so cliche to say that I'm heavy hearted....but that's what it is. My heart feels like pile of metal in my chest, sitting on my lungs. I couldn't get to daycare fast enough, I all but ignored the lady at the front desk that wanted to be nicey nice, I grabbed my Zella and my Cole and I didn't even try to hold it together. My sweet Cole. The same age as so many of the children lost today. His entire everything just on the horizon......I cannot even fathom. I tucked them in tonight and prayed over them and lost it again.....and the idea of 20 mothers and father tonight with an empty bed in their homes. With unwrapped gifts and an empty stocking. Its senseless. And after our talk about 9/11 this morning it occurred to me that Cole is growing up. And the evil one is already fighting for him. And I can't hide him. So I knew I had to tell him. And that tears were okay. So in the car tonight, on the way home, with the sound of Zella obnoxiously chewing her Bugles in the background, I talked to Cole about what happened in Connecticut today. There were no questions, just a very very long pause. And from the back seat, I heard his tiny voice say, "he must not have loved Jesus." YES COLE! And then he reminded me that Jesus says to love each other as He loved us.....and Jesus loved everyone and everything. And from darkness, there was light, from the pure innocent, heart of my little blue eyed, light on a hill. And I cried.
I've read so much today. Its to the point where I'm going to have to put myself on media restriction. Immediately parents are getting bashed for sending their kids to public school and not homeschooling them. Gun control laws are back in the forefront of the political arena because apparently guns kill people, not psychopaths carrying guns. Today, teachers and children died. We can immediately put a bill on the table to enforce gun control, but can't say a prayer in school. I'm pretty sure that with the state of our country that there should be a pause for prayer upon entry and exit to everywhere we go. Last night I went to Cole's elementary school Christmas program. Two songs about Hanukkah, one song in Spanish that I didn't understand a word of, a reading about Kwanzaa, one rudolph the red nosed reindeer and a santa clause is coming to town, santa hats, Christmas lights, garland and glitter......and not one mention of Jesus. Zellas Christmas performance was on Tuesday. Just 5 years ago Jake and I sat in the same room and listened to the daycare director weep as she read the story of Jesus' birth directly from the Bible on her podium. We both opened and closed with prayer. This year, one song that referenced God but never actually said His name and some cute angel hats. I hope I'm not the only one putting the pieces together. Kids are killing other kids. Younger and younger and younger these children are screaming for someone to listen to them. Half of them have never heard the name "Jesus". They have no idea that He's their option. He's their out. He's their advocate. He's their friend. He loves them. Tragedies produce a spirit of fear. Fear is not from God. I refuse to trap my children at home because the evil one lurks. If we choose to stay at home, he will attack us at home. If we choose to go to the mall or a movie, he'll find a way. Every breath of our days is a battle for our souls. As Christians, we don't have to fight this fight. We know who wins. That story never changes. But our children, until they find this peace. Until they find their security in Christ......until they learn what it means to love like Christ first loved us, they will fight the fight. So what happens to the kids that never hear it? The ones that don't hear it at home and are offered a "moment of silence" instead of prayer and have no idea what type of foundation our country was built on? Today is what happens. Aurora, CO happens. Columbine happens.
Not in this house. We will teach our children to shout out His name from the rooftops. To never stop praying. To LOVE people. To reach people. To hurt with people. That tears are okay. That mistakes happen. That no one is perfect. That forgiveness is always a better option. That it might not be easy, but we are never alone. That we will never ever understand the evil of this world, but we will take hope in the promise of greater things to come with Jesus.
When I hear the pitter patter of feet in the morning, I will remind myself to thank God for that sound. When they fight, I will thank God that I can hear their voices. And when they pray, at dinner, at bedtime, in the car, I will thank God for relentlessly pursuing me and Jake and changing our lives, so that we can change theirs. If the most important thing I ever do in my life is give my kids Jesus, thats enough. I know, no matter what happens to any of us, I gave them life. And I'll see them again.
My tears, thoughts and most importantly my prayers are with all of the families effected tonight.
"I have told you these things, so that in me, you may have peace. In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33
Friday, December 14, 2012
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Deep in the thick of Crazy
It's been a while since I updated about the Kubnicks......and since then we have found ourselves completely submerged deep in the thick of crazy. Lucky for us, we have several friends that 1 - remind us of how much deeper our crazy will get once our kiddos are home and 2 - do an amazing job distracting us long enough for us to think we've slept in the last month. BOTH of these groups of friends are amazing and without this support system that God has put in place for us, crazy would seem like psychotic. Meds I can do....asylum? Well, I just don't look good in white ;)
As of this week, and after a few delays (i.e. my very own paperwork error), the Kubnicks are officially submitted to immigration! What does that mean? It means that we are one step closer to Ukraine. It means that we are in a period of waiting. It means that while we wait (for up to 90 days) we fund raise! Turns out, this adoption thing is pretty expensive! There's this "rage against the machine" part of me that wants to say "how can you possibly put a price tag on a life"? But the harsh reality of it is, there is a price tag. BUT the amazing thing about God is this.....the price tag doesn't matter! We have full faith that God is going to meet us every single penny of the way through this adoption. Does that mean that we have to stay up a little later painting signs with big red anchors? It does. Does that mean that when I lose a few pounds (totally stress related. I have no idea what exercise means anymore.) that I don't get to go buy a bunch of new clothes? It does. It also means that as a family, we are making a commitment to be Jesus' hands and feet. It means that as parents, we are giving Cole and Zella a firm and Biblical foundation to stand on by saying WE ARE SECOND. It means, that at the end of all of this, our family will be bigger, our home will contain more laughter, our hearts will be even more full than we imagined, and our faith will be much greater than when we started and children that were once abandoned, will learn that Jesus will never ever leave them. Suddenly, the price tag is seemingly insignificant. So we'll sell what we have. We'll yard sale until there's nothing left to yard sell. We will pray circles and more circles around Jericho until the walls come down and the bill is paid. Because He did the same for us. He relentlessly pursued us, paying the ultimate price to redeem us, no matter how many times we tried to stop Him. And when we couldn't fight anymore, He adopted us into His family. And He loved us through our temper tantrums and hissy fits and frequent bouts of selfishness. And then He called us to do the same. We say "yes".
And in saying "yes", we have been overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by His unbelievably creative ways of meeting us. Small example: last week, we had to write a substantial check for the adoption. We weren't quite biting our nails, but were aware that this week, another substantial check would need to be written and that just wasn't there. We wrote the check on Thursday of last week. On Thursday of last week, Jake got a bonus tacked onto his pay check from the Dept. of Defense. If you work for the government, you will know that they don't just GIVE money away. But there it was.....that bonus, plus a random, generous gift from a sweet friend, equaled every single penny that we needed to send to immigration this week. There are about a million other blessings that we've just be swept away by in these last few weeks....but not enough space in the blog to list them. In our small faith, He made a HUGE point to yell at us, "Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." Psalm 37:4 Its amazing what can happen when the desires of our hearts, match His desires for us.
So we're fund raising. We've got just about everything you can imagine for sale. A Harley, a dining room table and hutch, hand painted signs, commercial grade fitness equipment, clothes, shoes, a cradle, small random furniture, bracelets, Scentsy.......no lie, if its not breathing, I'll sell it to you! And every night as soon as the kids go to bed I rush rush rush around trying to do all the Mom things I need to do plus all of the extra stuff like painting signs and pricing yard sale items. And its easy to forget the things that I hold close to my heart.......and this last week, in the craziness, I was reminded.
I am blessed to have a husband that is as crazy as I am. I am blessed to have a husband that will pray for our family, that will break down to God for our family, that we can trust as he leads us in Gods will. I am beyond blessed to have a husband with an incredible work ethic. Blessed to have a husband that has never in his life done anything half way. Blessed that he already loves our child/children in Ukraine SO much that he's learning Russian (thank you, Rosetta Stone) in an effort to understand Ukrainian a little better. And he's really really handsome. So that's HUGE!
When Zella was sick for the first year of her life we spent countless hours rocking. She was only a few months old when we started praying for my friend that was a nurse in Uganda and foster Mom to a set of very sick twins. In the wee hours of the morning, with her on my chest, I would cry out to God for these babies, and so many others that God was breaking my heart for. And we would sing "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound....." We still sing to Zella every night. We don't know when or if we will have another infant, so we are holding on to her as long as we can. But its been a while since she didn't request "Wheels on the Bus" or "Jesus Loves Me". But tonight as I laid her down she demanded "Grace! Sing Grace!". In my best effort to fight back the tears, we sang it together. As I was leaving she yelled out "Deep as the Yocean, Mommy!" And I'm reminded of the hard hard hard times that I have spent with this beautiful little girl........and that one moment, made it all worth it.
And then there's Cole. Oh Cole. First of all, he told my Mom this weekend that I'm really smart. So he's my favorite now ;) Second of all, everywhere we go, he talks adoption. And it makes me grin ear to ear. He struck up a conversation with a lady at Walgreens on Sunday by saying "we're saving money for an adoption!" Kid never meets a stranger. I got a text from our babysitter the night of the wedding saying that she was touched by his prayer at dinner time. So that means he actually prayed on his own, without being prompted, at dinner! And it obviously didn't include any of the way too often used bodily function words that he's so fond of these days! And tonight.....when I tucked him in he asked if I would lay with him and sing him a song. When I left the room he said "I'll miss you, Mommy. Love you as deep as the ocean!" You got me, Cole. I just completely forgot that you got in trouble at school today. And I will keep on forgetting as long as your heart keeps getting bigger and bigger.
Over the weekend, one of my bestest girls got married and I was blessed to be a part of the wedding party. First of all, it was beautiful. There is no place like the Lowcountry and this wedding did everything possible to highlight this life we love so much. And I just kinda really love weddings - a lot. But so standing in front of the church, listening to the pastor talk about marriage, and about how the opposite of love is selfishness, I couldn't help but look at how far Jake and I have come together. I looked back to meet his eyes in the church and he was right there with me. And that night we danced and it was like that first night on our blind date. I just melted in his arms.....and he held me up. And I'm reminded that my first job is as a Christian, and my second is as a wife. Not Mom. Wife. And the rewards are immeasurable. He's also still very very handsome :)
Soooooooo, yard sale!!!!! 91 Heritage Parkway, Bluffton......Saturday, Oct. 6, 8am-12pm. OR mckenzeekubnick.scentsy.us OR check my facebook for handpainted signs and bracelets OR message me if you're in the market for a Harley or dining room set :) I officially have no shame.
As of this week, and after a few delays (i.e. my very own paperwork error), the Kubnicks are officially submitted to immigration! What does that mean? It means that we are one step closer to Ukraine. It means that we are in a period of waiting. It means that while we wait (for up to 90 days) we fund raise! Turns out, this adoption thing is pretty expensive! There's this "rage against the machine" part of me that wants to say "how can you possibly put a price tag on a life"? But the harsh reality of it is, there is a price tag. BUT the amazing thing about God is this.....the price tag doesn't matter! We have full faith that God is going to meet us every single penny of the way through this adoption. Does that mean that we have to stay up a little later painting signs with big red anchors? It does. Does that mean that when I lose a few pounds (totally stress related. I have no idea what exercise means anymore.) that I don't get to go buy a bunch of new clothes? It does. It also means that as a family, we are making a commitment to be Jesus' hands and feet. It means that as parents, we are giving Cole and Zella a firm and Biblical foundation to stand on by saying WE ARE SECOND. It means, that at the end of all of this, our family will be bigger, our home will contain more laughter, our hearts will be even more full than we imagined, and our faith will be much greater than when we started and children that were once abandoned, will learn that Jesus will never ever leave them. Suddenly, the price tag is seemingly insignificant. So we'll sell what we have. We'll yard sale until there's nothing left to yard sell. We will pray circles and more circles around Jericho until the walls come down and the bill is paid. Because He did the same for us. He relentlessly pursued us, paying the ultimate price to redeem us, no matter how many times we tried to stop Him. And when we couldn't fight anymore, He adopted us into His family. And He loved us through our temper tantrums and hissy fits and frequent bouts of selfishness. And then He called us to do the same. We say "yes".
And in saying "yes", we have been overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by His unbelievably creative ways of meeting us. Small example: last week, we had to write a substantial check for the adoption. We weren't quite biting our nails, but were aware that this week, another substantial check would need to be written and that just wasn't there. We wrote the check on Thursday of last week. On Thursday of last week, Jake got a bonus tacked onto his pay check from the Dept. of Defense. If you work for the government, you will know that they don't just GIVE money away. But there it was.....that bonus, plus a random, generous gift from a sweet friend, equaled every single penny that we needed to send to immigration this week. There are about a million other blessings that we've just be swept away by in these last few weeks....but not enough space in the blog to list them. In our small faith, He made a HUGE point to yell at us, "Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." Psalm 37:4 Its amazing what can happen when the desires of our hearts, match His desires for us.
So we're fund raising. We've got just about everything you can imagine for sale. A Harley, a dining room table and hutch, hand painted signs, commercial grade fitness equipment, clothes, shoes, a cradle, small random furniture, bracelets, Scentsy.......no lie, if its not breathing, I'll sell it to you! And every night as soon as the kids go to bed I rush rush rush around trying to do all the Mom things I need to do plus all of the extra stuff like painting signs and pricing yard sale items. And its easy to forget the things that I hold close to my heart.......and this last week, in the craziness, I was reminded.
I am blessed to have a husband that is as crazy as I am. I am blessed to have a husband that will pray for our family, that will break down to God for our family, that we can trust as he leads us in Gods will. I am beyond blessed to have a husband with an incredible work ethic. Blessed to have a husband that has never in his life done anything half way. Blessed that he already loves our child/children in Ukraine SO much that he's learning Russian (thank you, Rosetta Stone) in an effort to understand Ukrainian a little better. And he's really really handsome. So that's HUGE!
When Zella was sick for the first year of her life we spent countless hours rocking. She was only a few months old when we started praying for my friend that was a nurse in Uganda and foster Mom to a set of very sick twins. In the wee hours of the morning, with her on my chest, I would cry out to God for these babies, and so many others that God was breaking my heart for. And we would sing "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound....." We still sing to Zella every night. We don't know when or if we will have another infant, so we are holding on to her as long as we can. But its been a while since she didn't request "Wheels on the Bus" or "Jesus Loves Me". But tonight as I laid her down she demanded "Grace! Sing Grace!". In my best effort to fight back the tears, we sang it together. As I was leaving she yelled out "Deep as the Yocean, Mommy!" And I'm reminded of the hard hard hard times that I have spent with this beautiful little girl........and that one moment, made it all worth it.
And then there's Cole. Oh Cole. First of all, he told my Mom this weekend that I'm really smart. So he's my favorite now ;) Second of all, everywhere we go, he talks adoption. And it makes me grin ear to ear. He struck up a conversation with a lady at Walgreens on Sunday by saying "we're saving money for an adoption!" Kid never meets a stranger. I got a text from our babysitter the night of the wedding saying that she was touched by his prayer at dinner time. So that means he actually prayed on his own, without being prompted, at dinner! And it obviously didn't include any of the way too often used bodily function words that he's so fond of these days! And tonight.....when I tucked him in he asked if I would lay with him and sing him a song. When I left the room he said "I'll miss you, Mommy. Love you as deep as the ocean!" You got me, Cole. I just completely forgot that you got in trouble at school today. And I will keep on forgetting as long as your heart keeps getting bigger and bigger.
Over the weekend, one of my bestest girls got married and I was blessed to be a part of the wedding party. First of all, it was beautiful. There is no place like the Lowcountry and this wedding did everything possible to highlight this life we love so much. And I just kinda really love weddings - a lot. But so standing in front of the church, listening to the pastor talk about marriage, and about how the opposite of love is selfishness, I couldn't help but look at how far Jake and I have come together. I looked back to meet his eyes in the church and he was right there with me. And that night we danced and it was like that first night on our blind date. I just melted in his arms.....and he held me up. And I'm reminded that my first job is as a Christian, and my second is as a wife. Not Mom. Wife. And the rewards are immeasurable. He's also still very very handsome :)
Soooooooo, yard sale!!!!! 91 Heritage Parkway, Bluffton......Saturday, Oct. 6, 8am-12pm. OR mckenzeekubnick.scentsy.us OR check my facebook for handpainted signs and bracelets OR message me if you're in the market for a Harley or dining room set :) I officially have no shame.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Tell Me
At work. Running behind. Have this rant going through my head. Needed to just get it out. Oh the beauty of a personal blog. Its like yelling at someone without that whole awkward confrontation factor.
So since the Kubnick family has embarked upon this international adoption journey, we have started noticing several common trends.
The first is the inability of people to just be excited for us without adding their opinion. It goes something like this...."oh that's so nice that you're adopting from Ukraine. Let me tell you what I think....." No thanks.
The second is the inability of people to keep their mouths shut. Everyone is entitled to an opinion. Obviously this is a decision that was not made hastily and your 20 minute dissertation on why you don't believe in adoption isn't going to end up with us saying "you're right! I never looked at it that way! Let's not adopt!".
And the third is similar to the second. Those people that agree with the idea of adoption, just not OUR adoption. Here's how that conversation goes.....
"Yes, we are adopting from Ukraine."
"I don't understand why people adopt internationally when there are hundreds of thousands of orphans right here in the united states! What's wrong with the kids here? I mean, there's a crisis right here on the homefront and all you people are running off to rescue another country's problem!"
"I'm sorry that you disagree. We feel God is leading us to Ukraine."
That last part, that's what I say. But here's what I WANT to say :)
Oh really? Do you want to tell me all about your domestic adoption journey? Do you want to show me the spreadsheet that you developed to break down the pro's and con's of international vs. domestic adoption? Oh wait, what? You've never adopted a child before? Then keep your pie hole shut! An orphan is an orphan regardless of their ethnicity or geographic location and its attitudes like yours that have assisted in making the worlds orphan crisis run 147 million strong. When God decided to wake you up this morning I'm pretty sure that His justification wasn't "well the numbers in the US are balancing out today so let me save this one, one more time". We go where we feel led. Without God rescuing us, and adopting us into His family, this process would have never been a consideration for our family. So when He says go, we go. We believe in His vision for a world that loves the same way that He does, without barriers that separate us or make us feel less responsible for people in need. The crisis remains the same. There are children without homes. Until you decide that you aren't too good to open your home to one, or two or three, don't decide that you're going to rain on our parade by shoving your small minded opinions down our throats. We don't care what you have to say. Would you like to buy a bracelet to help us fund raise?
Rant. Over. :)
So since the Kubnick family has embarked upon this international adoption journey, we have started noticing several common trends.
The first is the inability of people to just be excited for us without adding their opinion. It goes something like this...."oh that's so nice that you're adopting from Ukraine. Let me tell you what I think....." No thanks.
The second is the inability of people to keep their mouths shut. Everyone is entitled to an opinion. Obviously this is a decision that was not made hastily and your 20 minute dissertation on why you don't believe in adoption isn't going to end up with us saying "you're right! I never looked at it that way! Let's not adopt!".
And the third is similar to the second. Those people that agree with the idea of adoption, just not OUR adoption. Here's how that conversation goes.....
"Yes, we are adopting from Ukraine."
"I don't understand why people adopt internationally when there are hundreds of thousands of orphans right here in the united states! What's wrong with the kids here? I mean, there's a crisis right here on the homefront and all you people are running off to rescue another country's problem!"
"I'm sorry that you disagree. We feel God is leading us to Ukraine."
That last part, that's what I say. But here's what I WANT to say :)
Oh really? Do you want to tell me all about your domestic adoption journey? Do you want to show me the spreadsheet that you developed to break down the pro's and con's of international vs. domestic adoption? Oh wait, what? You've never adopted a child before? Then keep your pie hole shut! An orphan is an orphan regardless of their ethnicity or geographic location and its attitudes like yours that have assisted in making the worlds orphan crisis run 147 million strong. When God decided to wake you up this morning I'm pretty sure that His justification wasn't "well the numbers in the US are balancing out today so let me save this one, one more time". We go where we feel led. Without God rescuing us, and adopting us into His family, this process would have never been a consideration for our family. So when He says go, we go. We believe in His vision for a world that loves the same way that He does, without barriers that separate us or make us feel less responsible for people in need. The crisis remains the same. There are children without homes. Until you decide that you aren't too good to open your home to one, or two or three, don't decide that you're going to rain on our parade by shoving your small minded opinions down our throats. We don't care what you have to say. Would you like to buy a bracelet to help us fund raise?
Rant. Over. :)
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Change
In 1968 my Granddaddy had a dream. He had a dream of a family owned business that would do far more than make ends meet for his family. He had dreams of building a legacy. Of letting the business trickle down through generations of men with a work ethic and ability to reach people that was similar to his own.
I remember the way his hands looked. Permanently scarred from chemical burns, worn, aged, calloused. The sign of a hardworking man. He had a distinct smell too. Now that its right out my office door I recognize it as pesticides, but then, it was just Granddaddy. The yard at his house was full of "stuff". Little john boats, chickens, goats, fifty-leven dogs....you name it. Have you ever seen that show with "Turtle Man"? At the end of his jobs he always gets paid with things like "jars of fresh honey" or "an honorary membership to the rotary club". That's how Granddaddy worked in the beginning. Granny was forever mad at him when he'd do a full days worth of work for a homemade pie and some venison. But Granddaddy started his business as a working class man, doing work for working class people. He sympathized when there wasn't enough money in the budget for something simple like pest control. So he would take whatever they had to offer. I sure did love his big heart. And so the business grew. My first memories of it were the papers that were constantly overflowing on the desk in his home office. Guess when you take apple pie as payment, bookkeeping isn't real high on your priority list. And then it moved to a trailer in the yard of his house. He and my Uncle built and built the business on good old Southern business standards until business was booming. They had to hire 2 receptionists! That's big time! Just before Granddaddy got sick....he and my Uncle laid out the plans for a new building, complete with a warehouse for chemicals and a bay big enough to hold all of the trucks....it was like their dream was unfolding in front of them. And then there was cancer.
Grannys house was an outdoors kids dream growing up. Pulling in her driveway and parking under the sprawling oak tree that covers the left side of her yard feels like something out of a movie. At the right time of year, the azaleas are so vibrant and full that it takes your breath away. And growing up, we spent a lot of time there. Just out her back door was a whole world of adventure. She had the storage shed that each spring became home to at least 2 litters of kittens (she hates cats!) and McCall and I would spend our days out there trying to find them. Another oak tree not two steps off of her porch had a tire swing, and the rickety swing set that Granddaddy built so many years before was just off to the right. And if you kept going straight, Granddaddy had his dog pens. Granny hates dogs too ;) McCall and I used to run down there and bang on the pens just to get the dogs all worked up! Ever hear 10 beagles when they get excited? Its awful. And Granny hated it. And we thought it was hilarious. Granddaddy sometimes thought he was the animal whisperer. He built a corral out behind those dog pens once and brought home this beautiful, wild black stallion. He swore up and down that he could break that horse. We would stand out there in sheer awe at its' unbridled power.. I hated the day that Granddaddy finally admitted his defeat and the horse had to leave. Now, in the place of my childhood memories, sits an office building. My Uncle built that building that he and Granddaddy dreamed of. It was complete almost a year after Granddaddy passed away. Right inside the front door of our office is a picture of him. He oversees the day to day operations from his place on the wall. Every now and then, when its quiet, we hear the door open or a swift breeze blow through the office, and we know he's there with us.
I started working for the family business just shy of 7 years ago. For my entire life I have proudly said "We are Old South Exterminators". For almost 7 years I have driven down that long driveway that winds behind Granny's house and into the back yard of our office and every day have been flooded with childhood memories that are irreplaceable. Childhood memories that I long to recreate for my kids. And when I started working for the family, That was part of my goal. I was holding on to the memories that made me who I am.
But things change. People change. Life evolves. People pass away leaving giant empty spots in our lives and leaving us less of ourselves. Greed takes over. And as a result, families change. This week, ours did. We sold out. A dream deferred. Another statistic.
I can't even look at that picture of Granddaddy right now. The only comfort I have is knowing that maybe he's sitting there next to God and God is telling him all of the reasons why this is a good thing and of all of the plans that He has for us. I tried my hardest to rest my mind in the promise of hope and a future today. I taped a Ukrainian flag next to our family picture on my computer so that all day long I could remember what I'm fighting for. And while my brain knows that its true, my heart is heavy. I won't go into the reasons why or what happened or how. But it feels wrong. It feels wrong to give away a dream for money. It feels wrong to give away a dream for anything. I drove down that long driveway today to come home to MY dream. And I realized that its time to let go. You can't move forward, if you're always looking back. I will always have my memories. I will always have that black stallion and beagles and john boats and chickens. The oak trees are still standing and the azaleas still bloom every Spring. I have to remember each day that maybe all dreams aren't in Gods plans. And I have to trust, wholeheartedly, that He knows what He's doing. And so tomorrow, I'll become an employee, not a family member. And I'll look at my Kubnick family and that little flag and gut through it. For another paycheck. For a plane ticket. For an agency fee. Because while my dreams for the company might not be in Gods plans, I know wholeheartedly, that the dream He has planted in my heart for my family, is 100% His design. And I have to do, even through tears, what I have to do to make that happen. I'm leaning on my education at a Christian school tonight....remembering all of those verses I hated learning and am so thankful now that I did.
"Delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart" - Psalm 37:4
"TRUST in the Lord, with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight." - Proverbs 3:5-6
"Many are the plans in a mans heart, but it is the Lords purpose that prevails." - Proverbs 19:21
"For I know the plans that I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not harm you. Plans of hope and a future." - Jeremiah 29:11
"For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5
Looking forward to tomorrow morning :)
I remember the way his hands looked. Permanently scarred from chemical burns, worn, aged, calloused. The sign of a hardworking man. He had a distinct smell too. Now that its right out my office door I recognize it as pesticides, but then, it was just Granddaddy. The yard at his house was full of "stuff". Little john boats, chickens, goats, fifty-leven dogs....you name it. Have you ever seen that show with "Turtle Man"? At the end of his jobs he always gets paid with things like "jars of fresh honey" or "an honorary membership to the rotary club". That's how Granddaddy worked in the beginning. Granny was forever mad at him when he'd do a full days worth of work for a homemade pie and some venison. But Granddaddy started his business as a working class man, doing work for working class people. He sympathized when there wasn't enough money in the budget for something simple like pest control. So he would take whatever they had to offer. I sure did love his big heart. And so the business grew. My first memories of it were the papers that were constantly overflowing on the desk in his home office. Guess when you take apple pie as payment, bookkeeping isn't real high on your priority list. And then it moved to a trailer in the yard of his house. He and my Uncle built and built the business on good old Southern business standards until business was booming. They had to hire 2 receptionists! That's big time! Just before Granddaddy got sick....he and my Uncle laid out the plans for a new building, complete with a warehouse for chemicals and a bay big enough to hold all of the trucks....it was like their dream was unfolding in front of them. And then there was cancer.
Grannys house was an outdoors kids dream growing up. Pulling in her driveway and parking under the sprawling oak tree that covers the left side of her yard feels like something out of a movie. At the right time of year, the azaleas are so vibrant and full that it takes your breath away. And growing up, we spent a lot of time there. Just out her back door was a whole world of adventure. She had the storage shed that each spring became home to at least 2 litters of kittens (she hates cats!) and McCall and I would spend our days out there trying to find them. Another oak tree not two steps off of her porch had a tire swing, and the rickety swing set that Granddaddy built so many years before was just off to the right. And if you kept going straight, Granddaddy had his dog pens. Granny hates dogs too ;) McCall and I used to run down there and bang on the pens just to get the dogs all worked up! Ever hear 10 beagles when they get excited? Its awful. And Granny hated it. And we thought it was hilarious. Granddaddy sometimes thought he was the animal whisperer. He built a corral out behind those dog pens once and brought home this beautiful, wild black stallion. He swore up and down that he could break that horse. We would stand out there in sheer awe at its' unbridled power.. I hated the day that Granddaddy finally admitted his defeat and the horse had to leave. Now, in the place of my childhood memories, sits an office building. My Uncle built that building that he and Granddaddy dreamed of. It was complete almost a year after Granddaddy passed away. Right inside the front door of our office is a picture of him. He oversees the day to day operations from his place on the wall. Every now and then, when its quiet, we hear the door open or a swift breeze blow through the office, and we know he's there with us.
I started working for the family business just shy of 7 years ago. For my entire life I have proudly said "We are Old South Exterminators". For almost 7 years I have driven down that long driveway that winds behind Granny's house and into the back yard of our office and every day have been flooded with childhood memories that are irreplaceable. Childhood memories that I long to recreate for my kids. And when I started working for the family, That was part of my goal. I was holding on to the memories that made me who I am.
But things change. People change. Life evolves. People pass away leaving giant empty spots in our lives and leaving us less of ourselves. Greed takes over. And as a result, families change. This week, ours did. We sold out. A dream deferred. Another statistic.
I can't even look at that picture of Granddaddy right now. The only comfort I have is knowing that maybe he's sitting there next to God and God is telling him all of the reasons why this is a good thing and of all of the plans that He has for us. I tried my hardest to rest my mind in the promise of hope and a future today. I taped a Ukrainian flag next to our family picture on my computer so that all day long I could remember what I'm fighting for. And while my brain knows that its true, my heart is heavy. I won't go into the reasons why or what happened or how. But it feels wrong. It feels wrong to give away a dream for money. It feels wrong to give away a dream for anything. I drove down that long driveway today to come home to MY dream. And I realized that its time to let go. You can't move forward, if you're always looking back. I will always have my memories. I will always have that black stallion and beagles and john boats and chickens. The oak trees are still standing and the azaleas still bloom every Spring. I have to remember each day that maybe all dreams aren't in Gods plans. And I have to trust, wholeheartedly, that He knows what He's doing. And so tomorrow, I'll become an employee, not a family member. And I'll look at my Kubnick family and that little flag and gut through it. For another paycheck. For a plane ticket. For an agency fee. Because while my dreams for the company might not be in Gods plans, I know wholeheartedly, that the dream He has planted in my heart for my family, is 100% His design. And I have to do, even through tears, what I have to do to make that happen. I'm leaning on my education at a Christian school tonight....remembering all of those verses I hated learning and am so thankful now that I did.
"Delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart" - Psalm 37:4
"TRUST in the Lord, with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight." - Proverbs 3:5-6
"Many are the plans in a mans heart, but it is the Lords purpose that prevails." - Proverbs 19:21
"For I know the plans that I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not harm you. Plans of hope and a future." - Jeremiah 29:11
"For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5
Looking forward to tomorrow morning :)
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Just Laugh
At this very moment, there is a 9 page home study draft on my desktop that needs my attention. Whats one more day?! I tried to work on it tonight. I opened it and changed my font to "red" and started editing and realized that I had put the wrong date, name, and place in the blanks that were supposed to hold my birth certificate information. Annnnnnd "save" and "close". Baby steps. Baby steps. But so these last two weeks have been a little "heavy". And I haven't blogged since July and well, its just time. Time for an update.
The Home Study
This is our HUGE deal in the last several weeks. HUGE. We had our first home visit with our social worker on July 27. Jake and Cole had been out of town for a week, were home for one day and fell victim to this crazy lady as I prepared for our first visit. Let me just say that I'm typically "not right" as it is. There's something a little off about the way that I function on so little sleep and the way that I manage to multi-task so many things into very small amounts of time. This particular week though, I was full blown crazy. My house. looked. immaculate. We're gonna call our social worker "Lady". Cause she's a lady and until I have the official copy of the homestudy in my hand I shouldn't call her by her real name ;) Lady was scheduled to be here around 8:30 am on a Friday. I was up, dressed, coffee in my hand by 7. Its summer people. This was a ginormous accomplishment. Around 7:30, Lady called and asked me for directions, which I gave, which she then rejected and said I needed to come meet her because my street wasn't showing up on her GPS. Neighborhood has been here for 6+ years. Update your Garmin. I met her. We get back home and the meeting continues. There's about ten different little stories that need to be attached to this first meeting.....again, waiting for complete study before I share. But it was about an hour. And she was gone. She walked through the house. Checked for dead bodies. That was that. I was LIVID. Where's your white glove, Lady?! You aren't going to check my baseboards or ask my children to sing "Jesus Loves the Little Children"? But we practiced!!!!! You aren't even going to use the guest bathroom after I even washed the hand towel and steam mopped the floors?! You aren't going to comment on how the clothes in my childrens closets are hung according to season, occasion and color spectrum (ROYGBIV - learn it)? Well surely if you can't check these things, you can't possibly be a good judge of parenting. These thoughts, minus the parenting one at the end, legitamately went through my crazy brain. And then Zella needed to potty and I was brought back to normal people world. First visit, July 27. Second visit, August 15. In those two weeks (ish) I gathered paperwork, got tested for communicable diseases and discovered that on my health certificate, my doctor accidentally shaved an entire inch off my height ( I NEED that inch. I was one lapse of good judgement away from paying the co-pay again just so I could see her and make her fix it.). Also, during that time, Jake rebroke his ankle and assumed the position of Coach on our church softball team. You know what that means? That means that by default, as the coaches wife, when there aren't enough girls to field a co-ed team, I had to play. After the first game, I remembered very well why I hadn't touched a glove, bat, or ball since 8th grade. I should stick to raising kids. A few days later......by default, I was on the field again. This game was the night before our second home visit. I got up to bat and swung at this beauty of a pitch and I hit the ball!!! I was so stunned that I hit it, that I forgot to run, and upon remembering to run, I forgot how to run. Thus, pulling BOTH groin muscles. The rest of that game was spent walking around like I was giving birth. It was flat out embarassing that night when I couldn't lift my feet high enough to step into our walk in shower. And the only thing I could think about? Lady is gonna see me walking like this and think Jake beat me and she's going to write a bad report!!! Because why wouldn't that be the very first conclusion she would jump to? Again......not.right. (pointing to myself). I slept it off....woke up, and made this house immaculate. She was here 30 minutes. Took our money. Hit the road. Same reaction from me. Still wondering where her stupid white glove is and why nobody cares that my house was that clean other than me! And Jake. His most favorite part about the home study process was how clean our house was - twice. Love that guy. But so now we have a draft, and soon we will have a final copy and then it goes to DSS.....and well we will just stop right there because the DSS step is going to take some serious prayer. BUT, we are one whole step closer to Ukraine and are ridiculously thrilled :) Oh......also, I totally turned a double play during that second softball game. That's right. Cy Young I own you.
Granny
It gets a little heavier here. But this is where I remind myself that I have to laugh. Laughter is amazing medicine. Kinda like valium......or miralax. But so Granny fell and shattered her wrist....it will be 4 weeks tomorrow. She needed surgery immediately to put pins and a plate in it. She had just gotten to cast taken off of her other wrist from a fall several weeks earlier where she broke that one. So Left hand was weak, right hand, shattered. The doctors decided that she needed to go to a rehabilitative facility until she could use her right hand again. She was doing great, in good spirits, getting lots of attention and doing physical therapy twice a day. She was supposed to go home a week ago. But a few days before she was slated to go home, she got pneumonia. Now I won't go into all of the medical stuff.....or why I believe that I should have just gutted out college and fulfilled my potential as a doctor.....regardless of my opinions as to why, she got sick. Heavy duty antibiotics, lots of nebulizer use, etc. etc. took a heavy toll on her body and now she's in the hospital. And the little girl in me has cried a lot. A lot. Because this is my Granny. And she's 85. And I'm not an idiot. And the adult in me has remembered that this is not where we belong, as Christians. This isn't our final resting place. That what is waiting for us is far greater than we could ever imagine. And that's where Granny is headed, whenever that time comes. And when I reconciled that, I had some great memories flood my mind. Here's one of my very favorites from not too long ago......On the first of every month we send out a couple hundred invoices. Granny loves the first of the month because she gets to come to the office and hang out with the girls all day and stuff envelopes. She was sitting at the kitchen table this day and I was walking through the kitchen and she started talking to me......Granny: "I heard there wasn't nothing to see at that festival this year." (She's referring to Gopher Hill. It's an annual festival in Ridgeland that's usually the highlight of the towns year.) Me: "what do you mean there wasn't anything to see? There weren't any people there?" Granny: "I heard they boycotted it." Me: "Wait, who boycotted what, Granny?" She leaned across the table, stuck her finger out and motioned for me to come closer and she whispered, "well you see", she looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening, "the blacks is having trouble with the whites again. so they boycotted.". I thought I was going to wet my pants. If you just read that, and you are thinking anything even remotely related to racism, don't. But that's my Granny. She is always in "the know". And I love that memory. Because she's hilarious. I was in the hospital this afternoon and a respiratory therapist came in and asked why she had taken the oxygen out of her nose. Granny said "well the other nurse said my oxygen was fine so I didn't need it." The respiratory therapist said "well, I'm a respiratory therapist and I say your oxygen is not okay" and Granny, in all of her sickness, without skipping a beat said "Well I'm sick and I don't think any of ya'll know what you're talking about!" She's spunky. She's challenging. She knows what she wants. I sure do hope she stays around for a whole lot longer.
Cole
Reason #437 that I cried this week....wait, its only Tuesday. Anyways.....Cole started 1st grade yesterday. Ugh. I feel so OLLLLLLD! I mean, he's handsome! And he likes me to spike his hair and he told me on Monday "Mom, these new kicks are super fly!" My baby is officially growing up. And I always anticipated hating it. But I never anticipated hating it for these reasons. I never anticipated hating him growing up.....because it means that I have to watch him struggle. I never anticipated hate like this, because I thought it would be for things like having to let him go.....not out of concern that the little punk girl that bullied him last year is in his class again and I might have to beat her up. I never thought that watching the frustration on his face, would cause me to cry at his open house, in front of his teacher, who went and told the other teachers that a mom cried at her open house. "Hi! I'm the Mom that cried!" I officially don't need a name at school. Awesome. That was Thursday night. Monday morning, I walked Cole in and handed him his bookbag. I knealt down to give him a hug, and he tripped and collapsed into me, knocking us both onto the ground. Not a single thing about us was graceful......sprawled all out on the multi-purpose room floor. The Kubnicks are here! Good grief! LOL! But he had an awesome first day. I kept Jesus SUPER busy with my begging and pleading on Cole's behalf and sure enough he came home unscathed with a good report in his bookbag. Today, day 2, he came home with a note that says he's a great helper and very sweet.....and "somewhat off task". I chuckled at that one. Welcome to my world, lady ;). I'm so proud of him. He's becoming such a great little man. He challenges me one minute and the next he says "Mom, lets pray".....melt my heart. This little guy....he keeps me and Jesus TIGHT! He's an amazing little dude :)
Zella
Its a good thing that Lady didn't check our kids for bruises. If you were to check Zella out you would be certain that we beat her on a regular basis. Baby girl is ROUGH! Jake joked the other night about how he used to fight a lot in school. And I commented that we didn't need to worry about Cole fighting, because Zella was going to be doing it all for him. She's hilarious. And as Aunt McCall put it "a mess". She gets it from her mama :). She is officially potty trained now. Yaaaaaaaaay daycare! I honestly can take zero credit for this. Her verbal skills, I'll take that, but the potty training, that's all daycare. They deserve a raise. No they don't....but I did say "thank you". And so with this new big girl attitude comes her HUGE and hilarious personality. She's forever asking "whats that?" or "what's that smell?" or "what you eatin'?". She's quick to call herself out too. I'll say "oh my gosh. who farted?!" and very proudly and confidently Zella says "meeeeeeee!" and raises her hand. I have never known a child with gas like Zella Claire. I just laughed out loud at the idea that someone may have just read that and cringed at the word "fart". I live in a house with two boys. Boys that love protein. And broccoli. And eggs. This is my reality. But so Zella is growing up way faster than I remember Cole growing up. She was sitting at the table coloring the other night wearing her Green Bay Packer tshirt, her tiny little "unnies" and her hot pink Chuck Taylors. She kept wiping the hair out of her eyes while she was trying to color and her little hands are still so tiny, but her mannerisms are so grown. When did this happen?! Oh baby fever, you have taken hold of my brain!!! I want to bottle Zella and sell her energy. I want to preserve every tiny little centimeter of her toddler body. I want to make a mold of the way she still just "fits" on my chest. Oh how I love this little girl. Time, can you please, just slow down just a little?
And that's where we are. I'm sure there's more. I'm sure I've forgotten a major event of some variety. But that's our life. A sweet friend of mine is constantly reminding my ever wandering brain....."this day, these tasks". And that's where we are. We are handling today. We are soaking up today. We are doing our very best to remember every second of today. And when we don't seem to be able to handle it all......We are learning to Just Laugh.
Thank you, God, for this crazy, beautiful, laughter filled life :)
The Home Study
This is our HUGE deal in the last several weeks. HUGE. We had our first home visit with our social worker on July 27. Jake and Cole had been out of town for a week, were home for one day and fell victim to this crazy lady as I prepared for our first visit. Let me just say that I'm typically "not right" as it is. There's something a little off about the way that I function on so little sleep and the way that I manage to multi-task so many things into very small amounts of time. This particular week though, I was full blown crazy. My house. looked. immaculate. We're gonna call our social worker "Lady". Cause she's a lady and until I have the official copy of the homestudy in my hand I shouldn't call her by her real name ;) Lady was scheduled to be here around 8:30 am on a Friday. I was up, dressed, coffee in my hand by 7. Its summer people. This was a ginormous accomplishment. Around 7:30, Lady called and asked me for directions, which I gave, which she then rejected and said I needed to come meet her because my street wasn't showing up on her GPS. Neighborhood has been here for 6+ years. Update your Garmin. I met her. We get back home and the meeting continues. There's about ten different little stories that need to be attached to this first meeting.....again, waiting for complete study before I share. But it was about an hour. And she was gone. She walked through the house. Checked for dead bodies. That was that. I was LIVID. Where's your white glove, Lady?! You aren't going to check my baseboards or ask my children to sing "Jesus Loves the Little Children"? But we practiced!!!!! You aren't even going to use the guest bathroom after I even washed the hand towel and steam mopped the floors?! You aren't going to comment on how the clothes in my childrens closets are hung according to season, occasion and color spectrum (ROYGBIV - learn it)? Well surely if you can't check these things, you can't possibly be a good judge of parenting. These thoughts, minus the parenting one at the end, legitamately went through my crazy brain. And then Zella needed to potty and I was brought back to normal people world. First visit, July 27. Second visit, August 15. In those two weeks (ish) I gathered paperwork, got tested for communicable diseases and discovered that on my health certificate, my doctor accidentally shaved an entire inch off my height ( I NEED that inch. I was one lapse of good judgement away from paying the co-pay again just so I could see her and make her fix it.). Also, during that time, Jake rebroke his ankle and assumed the position of Coach on our church softball team. You know what that means? That means that by default, as the coaches wife, when there aren't enough girls to field a co-ed team, I had to play. After the first game, I remembered very well why I hadn't touched a glove, bat, or ball since 8th grade. I should stick to raising kids. A few days later......by default, I was on the field again. This game was the night before our second home visit. I got up to bat and swung at this beauty of a pitch and I hit the ball!!! I was so stunned that I hit it, that I forgot to run, and upon remembering to run, I forgot how to run. Thus, pulling BOTH groin muscles. The rest of that game was spent walking around like I was giving birth. It was flat out embarassing that night when I couldn't lift my feet high enough to step into our walk in shower. And the only thing I could think about? Lady is gonna see me walking like this and think Jake beat me and she's going to write a bad report!!! Because why wouldn't that be the very first conclusion she would jump to? Again......not.right. (pointing to myself). I slept it off....woke up, and made this house immaculate. She was here 30 minutes. Took our money. Hit the road. Same reaction from me. Still wondering where her stupid white glove is and why nobody cares that my house was that clean other than me! And Jake. His most favorite part about the home study process was how clean our house was - twice. Love that guy. But so now we have a draft, and soon we will have a final copy and then it goes to DSS.....and well we will just stop right there because the DSS step is going to take some serious prayer. BUT, we are one whole step closer to Ukraine and are ridiculously thrilled :) Oh......also, I totally turned a double play during that second softball game. That's right. Cy Young I own you.
Granny
It gets a little heavier here. But this is where I remind myself that I have to laugh. Laughter is amazing medicine. Kinda like valium......or miralax. But so Granny fell and shattered her wrist....it will be 4 weeks tomorrow. She needed surgery immediately to put pins and a plate in it. She had just gotten to cast taken off of her other wrist from a fall several weeks earlier where she broke that one. So Left hand was weak, right hand, shattered. The doctors decided that she needed to go to a rehabilitative facility until she could use her right hand again. She was doing great, in good spirits, getting lots of attention and doing physical therapy twice a day. She was supposed to go home a week ago. But a few days before she was slated to go home, she got pneumonia. Now I won't go into all of the medical stuff.....or why I believe that I should have just gutted out college and fulfilled my potential as a doctor.....regardless of my opinions as to why, she got sick. Heavy duty antibiotics, lots of nebulizer use, etc. etc. took a heavy toll on her body and now she's in the hospital. And the little girl in me has cried a lot. A lot. Because this is my Granny. And she's 85. And I'm not an idiot. And the adult in me has remembered that this is not where we belong, as Christians. This isn't our final resting place. That what is waiting for us is far greater than we could ever imagine. And that's where Granny is headed, whenever that time comes. And when I reconciled that, I had some great memories flood my mind. Here's one of my very favorites from not too long ago......On the first of every month we send out a couple hundred invoices. Granny loves the first of the month because she gets to come to the office and hang out with the girls all day and stuff envelopes. She was sitting at the kitchen table this day and I was walking through the kitchen and she started talking to me......Granny: "I heard there wasn't nothing to see at that festival this year." (She's referring to Gopher Hill. It's an annual festival in Ridgeland that's usually the highlight of the towns year.) Me: "what do you mean there wasn't anything to see? There weren't any people there?" Granny: "I heard they boycotted it." Me: "Wait, who boycotted what, Granny?" She leaned across the table, stuck her finger out and motioned for me to come closer and she whispered, "well you see", she looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening, "the blacks is having trouble with the whites again. so they boycotted.". I thought I was going to wet my pants. If you just read that, and you are thinking anything even remotely related to racism, don't. But that's my Granny. She is always in "the know". And I love that memory. Because she's hilarious. I was in the hospital this afternoon and a respiratory therapist came in and asked why she had taken the oxygen out of her nose. Granny said "well the other nurse said my oxygen was fine so I didn't need it." The respiratory therapist said "well, I'm a respiratory therapist and I say your oxygen is not okay" and Granny, in all of her sickness, without skipping a beat said "Well I'm sick and I don't think any of ya'll know what you're talking about!" She's spunky. She's challenging. She knows what she wants. I sure do hope she stays around for a whole lot longer.
Cole
Reason #437 that I cried this week....wait, its only Tuesday. Anyways.....Cole started 1st grade yesterday. Ugh. I feel so OLLLLLLD! I mean, he's handsome! And he likes me to spike his hair and he told me on Monday "Mom, these new kicks are super fly!" My baby is officially growing up. And I always anticipated hating it. But I never anticipated hating it for these reasons. I never anticipated hating him growing up.....because it means that I have to watch him struggle. I never anticipated hate like this, because I thought it would be for things like having to let him go.....not out of concern that the little punk girl that bullied him last year is in his class again and I might have to beat her up. I never thought that watching the frustration on his face, would cause me to cry at his open house, in front of his teacher, who went and told the other teachers that a mom cried at her open house. "Hi! I'm the Mom that cried!" I officially don't need a name at school. Awesome. That was Thursday night. Monday morning, I walked Cole in and handed him his bookbag. I knealt down to give him a hug, and he tripped and collapsed into me, knocking us both onto the ground. Not a single thing about us was graceful......sprawled all out on the multi-purpose room floor. The Kubnicks are here! Good grief! LOL! But he had an awesome first day. I kept Jesus SUPER busy with my begging and pleading on Cole's behalf and sure enough he came home unscathed with a good report in his bookbag. Today, day 2, he came home with a note that says he's a great helper and very sweet.....and "somewhat off task". I chuckled at that one. Welcome to my world, lady ;). I'm so proud of him. He's becoming such a great little man. He challenges me one minute and the next he says "Mom, lets pray".....melt my heart. This little guy....he keeps me and Jesus TIGHT! He's an amazing little dude :)
Zella
Its a good thing that Lady didn't check our kids for bruises. If you were to check Zella out you would be certain that we beat her on a regular basis. Baby girl is ROUGH! Jake joked the other night about how he used to fight a lot in school. And I commented that we didn't need to worry about Cole fighting, because Zella was going to be doing it all for him. She's hilarious. And as Aunt McCall put it "a mess". She gets it from her mama :). She is officially potty trained now. Yaaaaaaaaay daycare! I honestly can take zero credit for this. Her verbal skills, I'll take that, but the potty training, that's all daycare. They deserve a raise. No they don't....but I did say "thank you". And so with this new big girl attitude comes her HUGE and hilarious personality. She's forever asking "whats that?" or "what's that smell?" or "what you eatin'?". She's quick to call herself out too. I'll say "oh my gosh. who farted?!" and very proudly and confidently Zella says "meeeeeeee!" and raises her hand. I have never known a child with gas like Zella Claire. I just laughed out loud at the idea that someone may have just read that and cringed at the word "fart". I live in a house with two boys. Boys that love protein. And broccoli. And eggs. This is my reality. But so Zella is growing up way faster than I remember Cole growing up. She was sitting at the table coloring the other night wearing her Green Bay Packer tshirt, her tiny little "unnies" and her hot pink Chuck Taylors. She kept wiping the hair out of her eyes while she was trying to color and her little hands are still so tiny, but her mannerisms are so grown. When did this happen?! Oh baby fever, you have taken hold of my brain!!! I want to bottle Zella and sell her energy. I want to preserve every tiny little centimeter of her toddler body. I want to make a mold of the way she still just "fits" on my chest. Oh how I love this little girl. Time, can you please, just slow down just a little?
And that's where we are. I'm sure there's more. I'm sure I've forgotten a major event of some variety. But that's our life. A sweet friend of mine is constantly reminding my ever wandering brain....."this day, these tasks". And that's where we are. We are handling today. We are soaking up today. We are doing our very best to remember every second of today. And when we don't seem to be able to handle it all......We are learning to Just Laugh.
Thank you, God, for this crazy, beautiful, laughter filled life :)
Monday, August 6, 2012
"Umbled"
We had lunch yesterday with some sweet friends and I was chasing Zella around the restaurant. I made a comment about Zella no longer being "mobile" - two syllables, long "i". One of the younger girls at the table called me out on my pronunciation of the word and somewhere in the middle of my defense my mind was flooded with memories of my own childhood.
I am born and raised, Southern bred. My Granny still calls lunch "supper" and dinner is well, dinner. We eat malt vinegar on our fries and drink tea that can (and will if you aren't careful) rot your front teeth out. And in the Southern Baptist church like the one I grew up in, people like to "church" words up. Definition : "church it up" = add syllables and change pronunciation in an effort to make the word sound educated or "fancy". My Mom used to take the word "mature" and say "muh-tour" - really, Mom? I can still hear myself telling her how dumb it sounded. Granny's favorite was the word "humbled". She always pronounced it "umbled". It drove me crazy trying to think of a legitimate reason why you would just drop the "h". 29 years later, I might just get it.
These last several weeks in our house have been crazy. Jake and Cole took a trip to Wisconsin and while they were gone, Zella and I did paperwork.....and more paperwork. And then some more paperwork. We got the first visit for our homestudy scheduled a lot faster than I had originally anticipated which kicked my anxiety and multi-tasking abilities into full blown monster force. But I did it. And Jake and Cole returned safely and our first visit came and went (not flawlessly, but it happened nonetheless). On most days in the last couple of weeks, me and God have spent a lot of time together....by a lot I mean, I'm literally talking with Him all day. There's been a lot of me asking Him to please just hold me together. There's been a lot of me begging Him for patience and forgiveness for lacking patience - Cole and Zella are BOTH in a "phase". And there's been that moment, at least several times a day, where things seem to be happening in slow motion around me, as if God is slowing the world down to stop me and whisper "you're doing it".
A couple of months ago before any of this craziness began, I was talking to a friend of ours that recently adopted and they had a long journey. I'm actually learning now that I don't know a single person that has a foster/adoption story that isn't classified as "long". But so she was telling me that the wait was part of her journey. That every day that they spent waiting to go get their son, was a day that God was bringing her and her husband closer to that exact spot where He wanted them. The exact spot that would make them the best parents they could be for this child that God had chosen for them. And I thought I understood. But NOW, I really understand. Because now its our journey too. Its our waiting game. Its our mound of paperwork. Its our heartache for a child or children that we haven't yet met.
Jake decided on Friday that after church on Sunday we would take Cole and Zella to get their new school shoes. This is a luxury that we LOVE giving our kids. We love allowing a new school year to be ushered in with things like new shoes and a new lunchbox. And Friday night I thought about it. And it hit me. And I cried. And I pushed it to the back of my mind. I can't let these thoughts consume me. And so on Sunday, after a long morning with the Zella monster, we went to Savannah for shoes. Shoes were found quickly for Cole. Shoes purchased. I was pushing the stroller out of the store and Cole was walking in front of me swinging his little shoe bag around his shoulders and I lost the composure I had been working so hard on and "it" hit me again....pushing its way to the front of my mind. Think ugly crying in public lost it. I'm pretty sure Jake was terrified. With my face all smushed and tears rolling down my face and full blown ugly cry in the middle of the mall I cried to Jake, "what if our kids in Ukraine don't have shoes?" And in that moment, that's when I started to understand the journey.
Because somehow, God has brought me to this point of ugly crying in public being every bit of ridiculous and sensible at the same time. He has me teetering on the edge of completely lost and totally found. And this is where He wants me. I begged Him to break my heart. I begged Him to make me so much less of me and so much more of Him. And this is the process. This process of stripping every piece of me down to expose my vulnerability so that I have no choice but to let Him lead. Every single day, He's using Jake and Cole and Zella to prepare my heart for what He has next. Whatever, or whoever, that may be. And in it all.....I get it. In it all, I am "umbled". Maybe you are "umbled" when its so much more than it is when you use the "h". So I am. I'm "Umbled" to be a part of His work. To be even considered for this great work that He has prepared for the Kubnick family. To know that He cares for me even on the days when I am weary and weak and tired and grumpy. He hears the cries of my heart, even when my lips can't find the words. He hurts for my insecurities and cheers with my triumphs and He slows me down to remind me "you're doing it". And I am. We are. By His grace, we're doing it. "Umbled".
I am born and raised, Southern bred. My Granny still calls lunch "supper" and dinner is well, dinner. We eat malt vinegar on our fries and drink tea that can (and will if you aren't careful) rot your front teeth out. And in the Southern Baptist church like the one I grew up in, people like to "church" words up. Definition : "church it up" = add syllables and change pronunciation in an effort to make the word sound educated or "fancy". My Mom used to take the word "mature" and say "muh-tour" - really, Mom? I can still hear myself telling her how dumb it sounded. Granny's favorite was the word "humbled". She always pronounced it "umbled". It drove me crazy trying to think of a legitimate reason why you would just drop the "h". 29 years later, I might just get it.
These last several weeks in our house have been crazy. Jake and Cole took a trip to Wisconsin and while they were gone, Zella and I did paperwork.....and more paperwork. And then some more paperwork. We got the first visit for our homestudy scheduled a lot faster than I had originally anticipated which kicked my anxiety and multi-tasking abilities into full blown monster force. But I did it. And Jake and Cole returned safely and our first visit came and went (not flawlessly, but it happened nonetheless). On most days in the last couple of weeks, me and God have spent a lot of time together....by a lot I mean, I'm literally talking with Him all day. There's been a lot of me asking Him to please just hold me together. There's been a lot of me begging Him for patience and forgiveness for lacking patience - Cole and Zella are BOTH in a "phase". And there's been that moment, at least several times a day, where things seem to be happening in slow motion around me, as if God is slowing the world down to stop me and whisper "you're doing it".
A couple of months ago before any of this craziness began, I was talking to a friend of ours that recently adopted and they had a long journey. I'm actually learning now that I don't know a single person that has a foster/adoption story that isn't classified as "long". But so she was telling me that the wait was part of her journey. That every day that they spent waiting to go get their son, was a day that God was bringing her and her husband closer to that exact spot where He wanted them. The exact spot that would make them the best parents they could be for this child that God had chosen for them. And I thought I understood. But NOW, I really understand. Because now its our journey too. Its our waiting game. Its our mound of paperwork. Its our heartache for a child or children that we haven't yet met.
Jake decided on Friday that after church on Sunday we would take Cole and Zella to get their new school shoes. This is a luxury that we LOVE giving our kids. We love allowing a new school year to be ushered in with things like new shoes and a new lunchbox. And Friday night I thought about it. And it hit me. And I cried. And I pushed it to the back of my mind. I can't let these thoughts consume me. And so on Sunday, after a long morning with the Zella monster, we went to Savannah for shoes. Shoes were found quickly for Cole. Shoes purchased. I was pushing the stroller out of the store and Cole was walking in front of me swinging his little shoe bag around his shoulders and I lost the composure I had been working so hard on and "it" hit me again....pushing its way to the front of my mind. Think ugly crying in public lost it. I'm pretty sure Jake was terrified. With my face all smushed and tears rolling down my face and full blown ugly cry in the middle of the mall I cried to Jake, "what if our kids in Ukraine don't have shoes?" And in that moment, that's when I started to understand the journey.
Because somehow, God has brought me to this point of ugly crying in public being every bit of ridiculous and sensible at the same time. He has me teetering on the edge of completely lost and totally found. And this is where He wants me. I begged Him to break my heart. I begged Him to make me so much less of me and so much more of Him. And this is the process. This process of stripping every piece of me down to expose my vulnerability so that I have no choice but to let Him lead. Every single day, He's using Jake and Cole and Zella to prepare my heart for what He has next. Whatever, or whoever, that may be. And in it all.....I get it. In it all, I am "umbled". Maybe you are "umbled" when its so much more than it is when you use the "h". So I am. I'm "Umbled" to be a part of His work. To be even considered for this great work that He has prepared for the Kubnick family. To know that He cares for me even on the days when I am weary and weak and tired and grumpy. He hears the cries of my heart, even when my lips can't find the words. He hurts for my insecurities and cheers with my triumphs and He slows me down to remind me "you're doing it". And I am. We are. By His grace, we're doing it. "Umbled".
Friday, July 20, 2012
McCall
Whenever I get the itch to do a blog post, it hits me at some point during my commute to or from work. I have 40 minutes each way, Monday through Friday, to let my mind run wild. And today, it ran away with memories of childhood with my sister. In honor of her 35th birthday tomorrow - yes, I just dimed you out, McCall - I would love to share some of our memories.
Ever since I can remember, I carry a constant reminder of McCall with me. Located on the top of my right foot, just below my big toe, is giant scar. I don't know life without it. It reminds me that she both loved and hated me growing up. She loved me enough, on this particular day, to let me ride on the back of her Strawberry Shortcake Big Wheel while she did donuts on Granny's back porch. On this particular day, she also hated me enough to repeatedly run over my foot, front back front back front back, until I screamed loud enough that it annoyed her enough to stop. Pesky little sister I was ;). I was young enough that I don't remember this one......but oh do I remember some of the others!
I put her on a pedestal at a super early age. I remember watching her put her GNR record on the record player with such care. We jammed out to Use Your Illusion more times than I can count. Her dance moves were epic and she knew EVERY word. How cool was she?! Her side ponytail was rockin' and her hoop earrings were always just big enough. Even when we got our first Nintendo, and she whooped me every single time at Mario Brothers, I still looked up to her and dreamed of the day when I didn't move my entire body with the remote control. Even that day when I had my parakeet on the floor next to the bed, and she stepped off and crushed his little head, and I cried for days, even then, she sat upon that pedestal. I adored her. Even on the day when we were at my Grandaddys house and McCall was driving the four wheeler and I was on the back. We were flying through the field behind his house and absolutely smoked one of his chickens. Oops. Turns out it was his "best laying hen" or so we were reminded. McCall quickly retorted "it jumped out from behind a rock". Since when do chickens just jump out? Also, there wasn't a single rock within 5 miles. I stood up for her. I lied and said yes thats what happened. She got a spanking that day. I cried and cried. Even that day, when we both lied, and she wiped her tears and tried to act like her butt cheeks didn't hurt, even then I idolized her.
There were the summers spent at home with her while Mom was at work. My Mom would eventually have to take her phone off the hook in her office because McCall and I would literally call her every 5 minutes. "She won't share the remote!" "Mooooooom, McKenzee's eating again!" "Mom! McCall hit me over the head with the remote!" That last one is no joke. I remember that day. We had been fighting over the TV remote all day long. All day long. She got up to go to the bathroom and I attacked. Victory! Until she came back and noticed that I had turned the channel from MTV to watch Murder She Wrote (don't judge). I got up off the sofa and decided to make a run for it. Let's face it. I was the chubby little sister. She was the thin, older, track star, sister. She beat me to the door. She put me in a headlock and because I put up a fight, she fought harder. I started waving the remote around above my head thinking if it was moving she couldn't take it. WRONG! She put her hand on top of mine and started banging the remote into the top of my head. She won.
And even with those moments, my Big Sissy held my heart. McCall struggled through her teen years. That whole "teenage daughter" warning that most parents are given when their little ones are sporting Huggies and bouncy curls was not lost on her. She was the poster child for teenage daughter nightmare. And Mom and Kenny weren't backing down. And neither was McCall. It was a constant battle of wills in our house. Who could stick it out longer. And so often times, she pulled out the "running away" card. I remember standing in our driveway one night, watching her body move further and further away from me as she followed through on her promise to leave. I ran after her, sobbing. "PLEASE come home!!!!" She sent me home, crying all the way, and she went on her way. I cried until she returned. Hours later. LONG hours later. The fights she had with my mom were EPIC! EPIC! This one time I remember Mom and McCall were in our bathroom and McCall said something sassy to my mom so she got the ol' slap across the cheek. So McCall slapped Mom back. And off they went. An hour later they were wrestling and screaming on McCall's bed. Hi. My name is McKenzee, and these women I'm related to don't EVER give in during a fight. Again, I cried. Screamed and cried for them to stop. My efforts were pointless. An hour after the fight, everything was fine. I was baffled. And they were totally okay. And so went McCalls teenage years. Boys with saggy pants, McCalls ridiculous hair cuts, this one guy that had a boombox in his front seat cause his moms car didn't have a radio in it. These were real winners! And at 16, my parents uprooted her entire world......and sent her to a private Christian school. And things took a turn. She started playing volleyball and basketball. Who's the girl on the front page of the sports section, doing a layup and all you notice is her bright red painted fingernails? That's McCall! She always had her spunk. ALWAYS. Her crazy haircuts and bad boys evolved into more preppy style and less bad boys (LOL). Around this same time, I started growing up. And our relationship started changing. She wasn't just my big sissy anymore. She was my friend. And together, we began monopolizing our family.......as it should be.
We developed this language. It was one that only we could understand. And not like click click clucky snap snap....or sign language. Ridiculous, made up words for things that had perfectly good words to start with but ours were way more hilarious. She was officially my partner in crime. I still laugh at her rendition of the Rolling Stones classic. She would belt out "I'll never be....your big suburban!" She sang it with such confidence!! I loved the day that I realized that was not at all what the lyrics said. I remember the night before McCall was leaving for her Senior Class Trip to the Dominican Republic. I was devastated. There was a civil war happening just across the border in Haiti and my worrying mind had developed at an early age. I felt for sure that she wasn't coming home to me. She slept in my room that night.....because she knew I was upset. We stayed up all night long.......singing every single Michael Jackson song we had ever heard. I can still hear her giggling every time I sang "Heal the Worrrrrllllllld, Make it a better plaaaaaace". It was the same giggle that would keep us up on Christmas Eve every year. She was the Santa ruiner in my life. She let me hold onto it until she just couldn't keep her mouth shut anymore......I love her for that. She let me have it for a while.
She graduated from high school and moved out and into the world and our bond got stronger. I was the coolest middle schooler around when my big sister picked me up from school in her banana yellow CRV with the sun roof and she was blaring Metallica. I longed to be as cool as her :). And then there was Will. Will was the guy that asked my dad if he could marry McCall, and my dad said "no". BAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHA! I remember one of my hilarious guy friends told me one night that Will appeared to be the proof for evolution. He has this perma "duh" look on his face. You know the one. His mouth was always slightly agape and he had this blank stare. Will got this tattoo on his calf that was supposed to say William......but because his buddy with a similar IQ to Will's did the tattoo.....it actually says "Will I Am". High five for my mom and dad for saying "no" to this guy!!!!
Cause then Nick came along. Thank you, God, for Nick! McCall met Nick and enter whirlwind romance. Enter run down ragged pink trailer in Beaufort that they heated with their dryer. Enter the tragic death of McCalls cat......Cody. I'll never forget that. I was a junior in high school and we were in the middle of basketball season and traveling home from some podump school in the middle of nowhere. We finally got within bag phone reception....yes, I said bag phone.....and there was a message from McCall. Screaming. Sobbing. We couldn't understand a single word she said. I thought for sure something horrible had happened to Nick. We finally got in touch with her. It wasn't Nick. It was the cat. She was chopping vegetables with a giganto serial killer knife and she laid the knife on the counter with handle hanging slightly off the edge. Cody was still a kitten and pretty frisky. He jumped up onto the counter and clipped the handle of the knife. He fell backward, and the knife stabbed him in the stomach. It cut his stomach open and some important things were hanging out and he ran through his litter box and hid in his crate. They took him to the after hours emergency vet and in the end, the kitty litter that he dragged his organs through, killed him. We weren't allowed to say that cats name until about a year ago. No lie. True story.
Nick and McCall got married and along came Triston. I was blessed to be present at his birth. After being in the room with McCall through childbirth and listening to her scream things like "I'm dyiiiiiiiiiinnnnngggg!!!!" and "get it ouuuuuttttttt!!!!!" I thought for sure she was done having kids. And then along came Colton just 15 months later. And again, I was there, right behind the doctor, watching Gods miracle unfold. It was during those times that we made a shift again. We were best friends, and again, she was my hero. I've seen every single phase of her life and to watch it all result in this.....its humbling to be able to watch. And just as my admiration grew for her and I was watching her grow and fall in love with her little family, it was time for them to move to Japan. I was in college at the time. I was coming home almost every weekend and seeing her and the kids. I could not imagine my life with her a whole world away. Just before they moved to Japan, McCall and Nick gave me the most amazing gift they could have ever dreamed up. They picked Jake out for me. I now realize just how well McCall knows me. When she called to tell me she had found me a date for the Marine Corps ball she told me exactly what I needed to know......"he's a really nice guy. He's a great marine. His last name is kinda weird. His nose is just a little bit big." He was perfect for me. Almost 10 years later......her match is still made in heaven :)
And so off they went to Japan. I dialed that phone number so many times I still remember it. 011816117532429. BAM! I remember listening to McCall talk about her love for Japan. She dove into the culture and soaked in every single second. That's standard McCall. She loves change. She loves diversity. She loves culture. Being young and visiting NYC with her it was like she belonged there. With all of the people and the hustle and the bustle. She fit right in. Japan was perfect for her. After getting a small 10 day dose of the country when we visited her, I get it. We still dream about Gyoza House and the Chicken Shack together. Because well......we love food.
From Japan they found San Diego. And along came Aubrey. And deployment. I have never ached for her the way I did when Nick left that first time. I wanted to take it all away and bring him home. And she handled it with grace and style and embraced the opportunity to get involved with her kids and her Marine Corps community. Before San Diego was over......Peyton was on his way. They finally made it home to Beaufort. And all was right in my world again.
And now she's in Virginia. States away from me on her special day. And I miss her every day. I miss her every time I look in the mirror and my roots are a hot mess. Nobody does my color like McCall. Nobody. She's amazing. I miss her every time I need to laugh. She can always make me laugh. We laugh our way through everything......regardless of how inappropriate our timing may be. I miss her especially a lot right now. Today. The last time Granny got sick, McCall was here. We spent countless hours at the hospital together drinking way more coffee than should be allowed for people with nervous dispositions. We people watched in the waiting room. We took turns hiding around corners and crying when the doctors weren't giving a hopeful diagnosis. Then we would return to tell the other one that they looked like a hot mess. We would leave the hospital at the same time and talk to each other all the way home on our cell phones.....about nothing. About everything. Because we both felt vulnerable and didn't want to think. We are perfect for allowing each other distraction. It hurt my heart walking in that hospital today without her. So often in life, she's my hand to hold......without actually physically touching. We don't do hugging and stuff. That makes us cry ;)
I miss her especially right now today.....because she's amazing. Because she's an incredible mother. She taught me everything I needed to know when I had Cole. And again when I had Zella. She opened her home and arms to us at any and all times. She loves my kids like they came from her womb. When I said "adoption" to her she said "yes!!!!!!". She always encourages me. Always. From love.
I couldn't ask for a better sister. I dream of Zella having a sister. I can't imagine life without this bond. I can't imagine my life without "red" and her antics and her strong conviction and her giant heart. I can't imagine life without my talks with her on my commute. Today we talked about God and raising our children in His will. Yesterday we talked about Scentsy. The day before we talked about the disaster of Nick installing her new floors. There isn't a topic we can't cover. And I love that time with her.
So tomorrow....she turns 35. 35 years of God taking her and shaping her and preserving every single spunky, fun, bold thing about her while guiding her into this life she leads now. I've been present for 29 of those years. I have more stories than I could ever write down. Some that I definitely shouldn't ever write down. And in every single one of those moments, I have loved her, and looked up to her, just like I do today.
I am blessed to say that McCall Gogol is my big sister. That she is my best friend. And tomorrow, its my prayer that she feels as special as she truly is. I pray that she knows 35 is a number and thats it. She's still beautiful. She's still skinny (how is that even possible with her diet coke/buffalo dip diet?!). She's still creative and talented (have you ever seen her refinished furniture? Awesome!). She's still that crazy girl that ran away to the playground that was only 10 feet from the front door of our apartment. She's still the one that can make me laugh and cry. She's still my big sissy.
Happy Birthday to my sister, my best friend, McCall Gogol! Heres to AT LEAST 60 more birthdays. There are never enough days to celebrate you.
I love you and miss you like crazy!
Ever since I can remember, I carry a constant reminder of McCall with me. Located on the top of my right foot, just below my big toe, is giant scar. I don't know life without it. It reminds me that she both loved and hated me growing up. She loved me enough, on this particular day, to let me ride on the back of her Strawberry Shortcake Big Wheel while she did donuts on Granny's back porch. On this particular day, she also hated me enough to repeatedly run over my foot, front back front back front back, until I screamed loud enough that it annoyed her enough to stop. Pesky little sister I was ;). I was young enough that I don't remember this one......but oh do I remember some of the others!
I put her on a pedestal at a super early age. I remember watching her put her GNR record on the record player with such care. We jammed out to Use Your Illusion more times than I can count. Her dance moves were epic and she knew EVERY word. How cool was she?! Her side ponytail was rockin' and her hoop earrings were always just big enough. Even when we got our first Nintendo, and she whooped me every single time at Mario Brothers, I still looked up to her and dreamed of the day when I didn't move my entire body with the remote control. Even that day when I had my parakeet on the floor next to the bed, and she stepped off and crushed his little head, and I cried for days, even then, she sat upon that pedestal. I adored her. Even on the day when we were at my Grandaddys house and McCall was driving the four wheeler and I was on the back. We were flying through the field behind his house and absolutely smoked one of his chickens. Oops. Turns out it was his "best laying hen" or so we were reminded. McCall quickly retorted "it jumped out from behind a rock". Since when do chickens just jump out? Also, there wasn't a single rock within 5 miles. I stood up for her. I lied and said yes thats what happened. She got a spanking that day. I cried and cried. Even that day, when we both lied, and she wiped her tears and tried to act like her butt cheeks didn't hurt, even then I idolized her.
There were the summers spent at home with her while Mom was at work. My Mom would eventually have to take her phone off the hook in her office because McCall and I would literally call her every 5 minutes. "She won't share the remote!" "Mooooooom, McKenzee's eating again!" "Mom! McCall hit me over the head with the remote!" That last one is no joke. I remember that day. We had been fighting over the TV remote all day long. All day long. She got up to go to the bathroom and I attacked. Victory! Until she came back and noticed that I had turned the channel from MTV to watch Murder She Wrote (don't judge). I got up off the sofa and decided to make a run for it. Let's face it. I was the chubby little sister. She was the thin, older, track star, sister. She beat me to the door. She put me in a headlock and because I put up a fight, she fought harder. I started waving the remote around above my head thinking if it was moving she couldn't take it. WRONG! She put her hand on top of mine and started banging the remote into the top of my head. She won.
And even with those moments, my Big Sissy held my heart. McCall struggled through her teen years. That whole "teenage daughter" warning that most parents are given when their little ones are sporting Huggies and bouncy curls was not lost on her. She was the poster child for teenage daughter nightmare. And Mom and Kenny weren't backing down. And neither was McCall. It was a constant battle of wills in our house. Who could stick it out longer. And so often times, she pulled out the "running away" card. I remember standing in our driveway one night, watching her body move further and further away from me as she followed through on her promise to leave. I ran after her, sobbing. "PLEASE come home!!!!" She sent me home, crying all the way, and she went on her way. I cried until she returned. Hours later. LONG hours later. The fights she had with my mom were EPIC! EPIC! This one time I remember Mom and McCall were in our bathroom and McCall said something sassy to my mom so she got the ol' slap across the cheek. So McCall slapped Mom back. And off they went. An hour later they were wrestling and screaming on McCall's bed. Hi. My name is McKenzee, and these women I'm related to don't EVER give in during a fight. Again, I cried. Screamed and cried for them to stop. My efforts were pointless. An hour after the fight, everything was fine. I was baffled. And they were totally okay. And so went McCalls teenage years. Boys with saggy pants, McCalls ridiculous hair cuts, this one guy that had a boombox in his front seat cause his moms car didn't have a radio in it. These were real winners! And at 16, my parents uprooted her entire world......and sent her to a private Christian school. And things took a turn. She started playing volleyball and basketball. Who's the girl on the front page of the sports section, doing a layup and all you notice is her bright red painted fingernails? That's McCall! She always had her spunk. ALWAYS. Her crazy haircuts and bad boys evolved into more preppy style and less bad boys (LOL). Around this same time, I started growing up. And our relationship started changing. She wasn't just my big sissy anymore. She was my friend. And together, we began monopolizing our family.......as it should be.
We developed this language. It was one that only we could understand. And not like click click clucky snap snap....or sign language. Ridiculous, made up words for things that had perfectly good words to start with but ours were way more hilarious. She was officially my partner in crime. I still laugh at her rendition of the Rolling Stones classic. She would belt out "I'll never be....your big suburban!" She sang it with such confidence!! I loved the day that I realized that was not at all what the lyrics said. I remember the night before McCall was leaving for her Senior Class Trip to the Dominican Republic. I was devastated. There was a civil war happening just across the border in Haiti and my worrying mind had developed at an early age. I felt for sure that she wasn't coming home to me. She slept in my room that night.....because she knew I was upset. We stayed up all night long.......singing every single Michael Jackson song we had ever heard. I can still hear her giggling every time I sang "Heal the Worrrrrllllllld, Make it a better plaaaaaace". It was the same giggle that would keep us up on Christmas Eve every year. She was the Santa ruiner in my life. She let me hold onto it until she just couldn't keep her mouth shut anymore......I love her for that. She let me have it for a while.
She graduated from high school and moved out and into the world and our bond got stronger. I was the coolest middle schooler around when my big sister picked me up from school in her banana yellow CRV with the sun roof and she was blaring Metallica. I longed to be as cool as her :). And then there was Will. Will was the guy that asked my dad if he could marry McCall, and my dad said "no". BAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHA! I remember one of my hilarious guy friends told me one night that Will appeared to be the proof for evolution. He has this perma "duh" look on his face. You know the one. His mouth was always slightly agape and he had this blank stare. Will got this tattoo on his calf that was supposed to say William......but because his buddy with a similar IQ to Will's did the tattoo.....it actually says "Will I Am". High five for my mom and dad for saying "no" to this guy!!!!
Cause then Nick came along. Thank you, God, for Nick! McCall met Nick and enter whirlwind romance. Enter run down ragged pink trailer in Beaufort that they heated with their dryer. Enter the tragic death of McCalls cat......Cody. I'll never forget that. I was a junior in high school and we were in the middle of basketball season and traveling home from some podump school in the middle of nowhere. We finally got within bag phone reception....yes, I said bag phone.....and there was a message from McCall. Screaming. Sobbing. We couldn't understand a single word she said. I thought for sure something horrible had happened to Nick. We finally got in touch with her. It wasn't Nick. It was the cat. She was chopping vegetables with a giganto serial killer knife and she laid the knife on the counter with handle hanging slightly off the edge. Cody was still a kitten and pretty frisky. He jumped up onto the counter and clipped the handle of the knife. He fell backward, and the knife stabbed him in the stomach. It cut his stomach open and some important things were hanging out and he ran through his litter box and hid in his crate. They took him to the after hours emergency vet and in the end, the kitty litter that he dragged his organs through, killed him. We weren't allowed to say that cats name until about a year ago. No lie. True story.
Nick and McCall got married and along came Triston. I was blessed to be present at his birth. After being in the room with McCall through childbirth and listening to her scream things like "I'm dyiiiiiiiiiinnnnngggg!!!!" and "get it ouuuuuttttttt!!!!!" I thought for sure she was done having kids. And then along came Colton just 15 months later. And again, I was there, right behind the doctor, watching Gods miracle unfold. It was during those times that we made a shift again. We were best friends, and again, she was my hero. I've seen every single phase of her life and to watch it all result in this.....its humbling to be able to watch. And just as my admiration grew for her and I was watching her grow and fall in love with her little family, it was time for them to move to Japan. I was in college at the time. I was coming home almost every weekend and seeing her and the kids. I could not imagine my life with her a whole world away. Just before they moved to Japan, McCall and Nick gave me the most amazing gift they could have ever dreamed up. They picked Jake out for me. I now realize just how well McCall knows me. When she called to tell me she had found me a date for the Marine Corps ball she told me exactly what I needed to know......"he's a really nice guy. He's a great marine. His last name is kinda weird. His nose is just a little bit big." He was perfect for me. Almost 10 years later......her match is still made in heaven :)
And so off they went to Japan. I dialed that phone number so many times I still remember it. 011816117532429. BAM! I remember listening to McCall talk about her love for Japan. She dove into the culture and soaked in every single second. That's standard McCall. She loves change. She loves diversity. She loves culture. Being young and visiting NYC with her it was like she belonged there. With all of the people and the hustle and the bustle. She fit right in. Japan was perfect for her. After getting a small 10 day dose of the country when we visited her, I get it. We still dream about Gyoza House and the Chicken Shack together. Because well......we love food.
From Japan they found San Diego. And along came Aubrey. And deployment. I have never ached for her the way I did when Nick left that first time. I wanted to take it all away and bring him home. And she handled it with grace and style and embraced the opportunity to get involved with her kids and her Marine Corps community. Before San Diego was over......Peyton was on his way. They finally made it home to Beaufort. And all was right in my world again.
And now she's in Virginia. States away from me on her special day. And I miss her every day. I miss her every time I look in the mirror and my roots are a hot mess. Nobody does my color like McCall. Nobody. She's amazing. I miss her every time I need to laugh. She can always make me laugh. We laugh our way through everything......regardless of how inappropriate our timing may be. I miss her especially a lot right now. Today. The last time Granny got sick, McCall was here. We spent countless hours at the hospital together drinking way more coffee than should be allowed for people with nervous dispositions. We people watched in the waiting room. We took turns hiding around corners and crying when the doctors weren't giving a hopeful diagnosis. Then we would return to tell the other one that they looked like a hot mess. We would leave the hospital at the same time and talk to each other all the way home on our cell phones.....about nothing. About everything. Because we both felt vulnerable and didn't want to think. We are perfect for allowing each other distraction. It hurt my heart walking in that hospital today without her. So often in life, she's my hand to hold......without actually physically touching. We don't do hugging and stuff. That makes us cry ;)
I miss her especially right now today.....because she's amazing. Because she's an incredible mother. She taught me everything I needed to know when I had Cole. And again when I had Zella. She opened her home and arms to us at any and all times. She loves my kids like they came from her womb. When I said "adoption" to her she said "yes!!!!!!". She always encourages me. Always. From love.
I couldn't ask for a better sister. I dream of Zella having a sister. I can't imagine life without this bond. I can't imagine my life without "red" and her antics and her strong conviction and her giant heart. I can't imagine life without my talks with her on my commute. Today we talked about God and raising our children in His will. Yesterday we talked about Scentsy. The day before we talked about the disaster of Nick installing her new floors. There isn't a topic we can't cover. And I love that time with her.
So tomorrow....she turns 35. 35 years of God taking her and shaping her and preserving every single spunky, fun, bold thing about her while guiding her into this life she leads now. I've been present for 29 of those years. I have more stories than I could ever write down. Some that I definitely shouldn't ever write down. And in every single one of those moments, I have loved her, and looked up to her, just like I do today.
I am blessed to say that McCall Gogol is my big sister. That she is my best friend. And tomorrow, its my prayer that she feels as special as she truly is. I pray that she knows 35 is a number and thats it. She's still beautiful. She's still skinny (how is that even possible with her diet coke/buffalo dip diet?!). She's still creative and talented (have you ever seen her refinished furniture? Awesome!). She's still that crazy girl that ran away to the playground that was only 10 feet from the front door of our apartment. She's still the one that can make me laugh and cry. She's still my big sissy.
Happy Birthday to my sister, my best friend, McCall Gogol! Heres to AT LEAST 60 more birthdays. There are never enough days to celebrate you.
I love you and miss you like crazy!
Monday, July 2, 2012
Big Cat, Big Bag
May 3 was a Thursday. I was on the backside of a sinus/ear infection that incapacitated me for a solid 36 hours......but Mommies still have to get up and get the kids ready for school. So on this Thursday morning I was sprawled across the middle of our giant arm chair wallowing in the pain that went from my face to my ankles. Zella was still asleep and the only sounds that could be heard were those of a dogs neglected toenails tapdancing on the hardwood and Cole, slurping the milk from his Pops. And from the silence, Coles tiny voice said "Mommy, how do orphans stay alive?" The brick hit my chest.....hold it together, McKenzee, just answer his question. "Well, bud, there are these homes called orphanages where some orphans are blessed enough to go live." I could see his brain working. He questioned, "but there aren't enough orphanages for all of the orphans? So what happens to those orphans? Do they die?" Hold back the tears, McKenzee......"yes, buddy. They do." And Cole declared, "Mommy, we can bring an orphan to live with us. He can have my bed. I will sleep on the floor." I lost it. Tears of joy that God had touched my sons heart. Tears of joy that his small faith completely understood exactly what we needed to do - and tears of sadness that some of us adults, with big grown up faith, still can't see it like that. Simple. God says do it. It had been about 6 months since the last time I had talked to Cole about orphans. The last time was when we were reading his library book about Africa. We were reading a page about elephants and how hot and dry the desert is and how living conditions are unbearable without enough food and water. Annnnnnnnnnd Mommy was crying.....reading about elephants. I decided I had to stop. I couldn't drag Cole down in my sadness with me. If God chose to touch his heart for the orphan, He would do it, but it wasn't my job to make him feel something by witnessing my tears. So I stopped talking to him about it. But God had already planted the seed......and this particular Thursday, the seed sprouted. Since that Thursday, on any given night, you can find Cole, asleep on the floor of his bedroom, next to his big comfy bed. That first night I found him like that I woke him and asked him what he was doing and he replied "making room for my brother or sister." Have I mentioned how blessed I am by this little boy? Beyond blessed. Undeservingly blessed.
I sent Jake a text telling him about our conversation that Thursday morning. There's no possible way, as a parent, to not be proud of your child in that moment. But God was using our conversation for something bigger. For about two years I have been praying about fostering/adoption. When God put it on me, He put it on me heavy. And that's how I laid it on Jake. Which is the WRONG way to lay something on Jake. LOL. He wasn't mean about it. He wasn't anti fostering/adoption. He was anti-fostering/adoption for the Kubnicks. There was always a reason. At first, it was because we had our hands more than full with Zella and her protein intolerance. Then it was an issue of space - where would the kids sleep? Then it was an issue of thinking we were moving, and for a while, it was in issue of a million other things overwhelming us and Jake being aware that we couldn't handle it. I hinted and badgered and brought it up over and over until finally, I pushed too far. And Jake asked me not to bring it up again. He knew how I felt. And through it all, I prayed. I prayed that God would touch Jake. Day after day I cried out "God, why would you break my heart for these kids if this isn't your will for us?" Through our church, we have met an AMAZING group of people that have a heart for orphans. Through these several faithful families I learned that just because we aren't adopting, that doesn't mean we can't support the organizations/families that ARE called to protect them. I had a heart to heart one night with an amazing woman with a HUGE heart for God and the orphan. And she said to me "adoption may not be in Gods will for your life, so you need to pray for peace to walk that out.....you need to pray for Gods peace to walk out whatever His will may be." I choked it back. I had never considered that adopting might not be in His will for our family. The next day on my way home from work - turns out commuting is the perfect time for prayer - through tears, I gave it up. I prayed for peace.....to just walk it out. But I kept praying.....only this time, that God would keep us in His will, whatever that might be.
Several weeks later, May 3rd happened. Cole laid the anvil on my lungs that morning and it got to Jake too. Jake posted it on facebook and one of his friends asked him, "are you thinking about adoption?!" - I was a creeper that day. Repeatedly going back to that post......well, Jake? Are you? Are you thinking about adoption?!!! That night we were getting the kids bathed after dinner and Jake said to me....."soooo, hypothetically, if we were to adopt, have you thought about age, gender, or country?" Breathe, McKenzee, breathe. "To be perfectly honest, I don't care about any of those things." He replied....."how about a 5 year old boy from Ukraine? I've been doing some research..." I had to walk out of the room. I"m pretty sure my lips ripped in the corners because my grin was so huge....later that night we stood in the driveway, me in all of my no makeup sinus infection glory and I almost squeezed the life out of Jake as told me he's ready. That God laid it on him, hard. And he's ready. Thank you, Lord.
Jake asked me not to blog about it at first. We wanted to talk to our families and figure out some details. And its a good thing. Once we spoke it......the backlash began. It felt like a full on attack from every side of us. Cole was getting in trouble at school and having some serious behavior issues at home. Zella decided that she was going to do nothing but cry for several consecutive weeks. Our family drama exploded. And the insecurity.......the second I spoke the word adoption, I started feeling judged. I started feeling like every single word I spoke to my kids was being scrutinized by someone thinking that I wasn't fit to be an adoptive mother. Every disciplining action felt wrong. Every meal I fed my family wasn't balanced enough. My house wasn't clean enough. I wasn't spending enough time exercising. I couldn't give my kids the time they needed at the end of a work day. And then I remembered that its none of those things that matter. There's no definition of a perfect parent. It isn't possible to be perfect. We all fall short every single day. Regardless of the toys on the floor, the breakfast for dinner two nights in a row, the piles of laundry or the extra 15 lbs......those things don't equal love. I don't have to be a perfect parent. I just have to love. Are there other components to parenting? Of course there are. But at the end of the day, what matters most? What touches you the deepest?
The Tuesday before Fathers Day Jake was asked to give his testimony, and how it related to Fathers Day and being a father. On Fathers Day, in front of an entire congregation and most of Facebook, Jake told his story. About growing up without a father, and finding the love of God the father. And he talked about our kids, and how they will never have to wonder if he loves them. And about adoption. To say that I was proud is an exaggerated understatement. To think that God is using every second of every day of our lives, past and present, to create a story for Him is overwhelming. To think that God is using the fatherless, to hurt for the fatherless - He makes all things work together for our good. Its incredible.
So yes, there it is.The gigantic cat is out of its gigantic bag. We are adopting.We are walking completely in faith, letting God lead us through the dark, opening one candlelit door at a time. We are aware of peoples opinions, already heard a few of those!, and that well, we might not have the support of every face we meet. And that's okay. We believe, this is Gods call for our family. Its a long process. And every day of waiting will bring us exactly to the place God wants us. Every day feels like a deliverance. Like the doubt of the day before is vindicated with light of the new morning. God shows Himself to us every single day. If its in a friends perfectly timed encouraging text message or in a hug from our son whose heart is totally ready for his brother/sister, He's there. We are beyond honored to be trusted with these beautiful babies. To think that He thinks we should have more Kubnicks is humbling......but who are we to argue?
Watch out world - the Kubnicks are multiplying :)
I sent Jake a text telling him about our conversation that Thursday morning. There's no possible way, as a parent, to not be proud of your child in that moment. But God was using our conversation for something bigger. For about two years I have been praying about fostering/adoption. When God put it on me, He put it on me heavy. And that's how I laid it on Jake. Which is the WRONG way to lay something on Jake. LOL. He wasn't mean about it. He wasn't anti fostering/adoption. He was anti-fostering/adoption for the Kubnicks. There was always a reason. At first, it was because we had our hands more than full with Zella and her protein intolerance. Then it was an issue of space - where would the kids sleep? Then it was an issue of thinking we were moving, and for a while, it was in issue of a million other things overwhelming us and Jake being aware that we couldn't handle it. I hinted and badgered and brought it up over and over until finally, I pushed too far. And Jake asked me not to bring it up again. He knew how I felt. And through it all, I prayed. I prayed that God would touch Jake. Day after day I cried out "God, why would you break my heart for these kids if this isn't your will for us?" Through our church, we have met an AMAZING group of people that have a heart for orphans. Through these several faithful families I learned that just because we aren't adopting, that doesn't mean we can't support the organizations/families that ARE called to protect them. I had a heart to heart one night with an amazing woman with a HUGE heart for God and the orphan. And she said to me "adoption may not be in Gods will for your life, so you need to pray for peace to walk that out.....you need to pray for Gods peace to walk out whatever His will may be." I choked it back. I had never considered that adopting might not be in His will for our family. The next day on my way home from work - turns out commuting is the perfect time for prayer - through tears, I gave it up. I prayed for peace.....to just walk it out. But I kept praying.....only this time, that God would keep us in His will, whatever that might be.
Several weeks later, May 3rd happened. Cole laid the anvil on my lungs that morning and it got to Jake too. Jake posted it on facebook and one of his friends asked him, "are you thinking about adoption?!" - I was a creeper that day. Repeatedly going back to that post......well, Jake? Are you? Are you thinking about adoption?!!! That night we were getting the kids bathed after dinner and Jake said to me....."soooo, hypothetically, if we were to adopt, have you thought about age, gender, or country?" Breathe, McKenzee, breathe. "To be perfectly honest, I don't care about any of those things." He replied....."how about a 5 year old boy from Ukraine? I've been doing some research..." I had to walk out of the room. I"m pretty sure my lips ripped in the corners because my grin was so huge....later that night we stood in the driveway, me in all of my no makeup sinus infection glory and I almost squeezed the life out of Jake as told me he's ready. That God laid it on him, hard. And he's ready. Thank you, Lord.
Jake asked me not to blog about it at first. We wanted to talk to our families and figure out some details. And its a good thing. Once we spoke it......the backlash began. It felt like a full on attack from every side of us. Cole was getting in trouble at school and having some serious behavior issues at home. Zella decided that she was going to do nothing but cry for several consecutive weeks. Our family drama exploded. And the insecurity.......the second I spoke the word adoption, I started feeling judged. I started feeling like every single word I spoke to my kids was being scrutinized by someone thinking that I wasn't fit to be an adoptive mother. Every disciplining action felt wrong. Every meal I fed my family wasn't balanced enough. My house wasn't clean enough. I wasn't spending enough time exercising. I couldn't give my kids the time they needed at the end of a work day. And then I remembered that its none of those things that matter. There's no definition of a perfect parent. It isn't possible to be perfect. We all fall short every single day. Regardless of the toys on the floor, the breakfast for dinner two nights in a row, the piles of laundry or the extra 15 lbs......those things don't equal love. I don't have to be a perfect parent. I just have to love. Are there other components to parenting? Of course there are. But at the end of the day, what matters most? What touches you the deepest?
The Tuesday before Fathers Day Jake was asked to give his testimony, and how it related to Fathers Day and being a father. On Fathers Day, in front of an entire congregation and most of Facebook, Jake told his story. About growing up without a father, and finding the love of God the father. And he talked about our kids, and how they will never have to wonder if he loves them. And about adoption. To say that I was proud is an exaggerated understatement. To think that God is using every second of every day of our lives, past and present, to create a story for Him is overwhelming. To think that God is using the fatherless, to hurt for the fatherless - He makes all things work together for our good. Its incredible.
So yes, there it is.The gigantic cat is out of its gigantic bag. We are adopting.We are walking completely in faith, letting God lead us through the dark, opening one candlelit door at a time. We are aware of peoples opinions, already heard a few of those!, and that well, we might not have the support of every face we meet. And that's okay. We believe, this is Gods call for our family. Its a long process. And every day of waiting will bring us exactly to the place God wants us. Every day feels like a deliverance. Like the doubt of the day before is vindicated with light of the new morning. God shows Himself to us every single day. If its in a friends perfectly timed encouraging text message or in a hug from our son whose heart is totally ready for his brother/sister, He's there. We are beyond honored to be trusted with these beautiful babies. To think that He thinks we should have more Kubnicks is humbling......but who are we to argue?
Watch out world - the Kubnicks are multiplying :)
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
May Days
Its June already. Geesh. May completely ran away from me. And here's why.....
My last post was about Cole and soccer. May brought the end of his season, another trophy for the case, and quite possibly the end of Cole's soccer career. I love my son. But love can't make him coordinated. Kidding. Kind of. Maybe he'll grow into his athletic prowess. I remember many, many a busted chin on my part from countless hours of my dad throwing the ultimate pop fly in our front yard and the ball always sliding by my glove by about an inch only to connect with my face. I have the scars on my knees from when I was about 11 and we moved into our new house. The new house had one step up (and down, of course) to the front porch. Every single morning for the first week or so that we lived there, I fell off that first step. Skinning my poor knees in the same place every morning. The same place on my knees that suffered the hatred of my roller blades and that really steep hill, or my roller blades and that pesky old bike path, or well, any time I put my roller blades on at all. I remember standing in the outfield during a softball game and while I felt secure in being strategically placed in right field so that I was sure to never get a ball, my security was very short lived when that grounder bounced its way out to me. I fielded the ball, took it from my glove, threw my hand behind my head and followed through my shoulder with all my might - and quickly realized that the ball had rolled out of my hand and was sitting on the ground behind me. So I started looking for it frantically....but my hat was pulled down so low that I was having a hard time seeing. By the time I picked it up, it was a home run. Those of you that have known me for a while will remember that in my high school days I wasn't the worst at sports. I was maybe even a little bit good. And so there's hope for my Cole Harrison. There's hope that by the time he gets to high school his crazy, super competitive mama won't have sucked the joy and love of sports out of him. There's hope that he'll find that perfect sport for him and he'll excel and enjoy sports. But for now, for this season, we had fun. And maybe, if I can talk his papa into it, maybe Cole can give soccer another try in the Fall. Maybe.
May brought Jake's college graduation AND his surprise party. When Jake first started talking about graduation I immediately suggested we throw a party and Jake kind of danced around it and I pretended to let it go. But I started planning early April, wove this huge elaborate web of lies that exhausted me, and in the end - he was surprised! I was in complete shock that he hadn't figured it out. He's quite perceptive and well, I'm a really terrible secret keeper when I'm excited. When he walked up to the party and saw the giant banner that said "Congratulations!" he thought it was party to tell him that I was pregnant. WHAT?! Who throws a party to tell their spouse they're pregnant? He was terrified at first, LOL! And then he saw the little graduation hats on the cupcakes and figured it out and that smile, oh boy, melts me every time. I would weave that web of lies over and over again just to see that smile. Just over a week later he graduated, Summa Cum Laude, with his BS in Professional Aeronautics. I was the beaming wife that day. He worked so hard for more hours than I could ever calculate to accomplish this goal. Watching him walk across that stage reminded me of one of the things that I love so much about this man.....failure is not an option. Never once did he contemplate quitting. Never once did he say "I can't" even when he had nothing left. He divided his time so meticulously between work, school, soccer practice, training for a bodybuilding show, the gym, Cole, Zella, myself and sleep that there was no room for anything in between but he made sure to make time for everything. He's inspiring. I swoon.
May brought Jake's mom to us!! Cheryl came to visit us for 12 days. She was here for Jakes party and his graduation. She saw Tybee Island, Hilton Head Island, Beaufort County by boat, a backroads trip to the Midlands to see my Aunt Jen, dinner at the Boathouse, breakfast at Squat & Gobble, church at Praise Assembly and so many things in between. Her visit brought some very much needed Grandma time for Cole and Zella and I can't lie, it was AMAZING to come home from work with dinner on the table! We laughed A LOT and when it was time to say goodbye, we boohoo'ed like babies. Wisconsin is way too far away. We were so blessed to have her with us for such an awesome time in Jake's life.
Right after Jake's graduation, we had Cole's Kindergarten graduation. When Jake left that morning to take Cole to school I had my mommy meltdown. I looked at Cole and realized that he is far from my baby boy. He's growing up, figuratively and literally. He's getting smarter - and learning to use it against us. He's reading and writing and adding and subtracting and he beams with pride in his success. And the Mommy in me, wants him to be my little chunk with the crazy curly hair again. I watched him walk across that stage with his little paper hat on and his hands in his pockets like Joe Cool Guy and all I could think was "there goes Jake". Every day, he's more and more like Jacob. And I'm okay with that. But so the end of Kindergarten came at a perfect time. I cheered and cried that day. It's been a rough year. Okay, real rough. But all we can do is look forward and try to make next years transition smoother. And pray. Gonna take a lot of prayer. We have 8 weeks of reflecting time before we are head first into another school year with Beaufort County and its lack of spell check. 8 weeks. Savoring them.
As for me, I'm kind of in awe. Have you ever looked at your life and realized that so many of the things you're enjoying right now, are the very things that you once hoped and prayed for? I look at each of my kids and remember the several months of trying to conceive with both of them and literally begging God for a positive test. And here they are, 6 and 2 years old. Poster children for the miracle of Gods creation. Tonight I was in the shower and Jake poked his head in the bathroom door and said "lets pray together when you're done". There was a time when I would have wondered whose house I was in......but not now. I am in love with a man that is in love with God! I can't help but think back to the time that Jake looked at me and said "we're rich!". I am. I am rich. And May, May brought days that allowed me to bask in that richness. May brought days that reminded me to give thanks for these blessings. May brought days that reminded me that Gods timing is always perfect. May brought days of encouragement.
May brought great anticipation for June!
My last post was about Cole and soccer. May brought the end of his season, another trophy for the case, and quite possibly the end of Cole's soccer career. I love my son. But love can't make him coordinated. Kidding. Kind of. Maybe he'll grow into his athletic prowess. I remember many, many a busted chin on my part from countless hours of my dad throwing the ultimate pop fly in our front yard and the ball always sliding by my glove by about an inch only to connect with my face. I have the scars on my knees from when I was about 11 and we moved into our new house. The new house had one step up (and down, of course) to the front porch. Every single morning for the first week or so that we lived there, I fell off that first step. Skinning my poor knees in the same place every morning. The same place on my knees that suffered the hatred of my roller blades and that really steep hill, or my roller blades and that pesky old bike path, or well, any time I put my roller blades on at all. I remember standing in the outfield during a softball game and while I felt secure in being strategically placed in right field so that I was sure to never get a ball, my security was very short lived when that grounder bounced its way out to me. I fielded the ball, took it from my glove, threw my hand behind my head and followed through my shoulder with all my might - and quickly realized that the ball had rolled out of my hand and was sitting on the ground behind me. So I started looking for it frantically....but my hat was pulled down so low that I was having a hard time seeing. By the time I picked it up, it was a home run. Those of you that have known me for a while will remember that in my high school days I wasn't the worst at sports. I was maybe even a little bit good. And so there's hope for my Cole Harrison. There's hope that by the time he gets to high school his crazy, super competitive mama won't have sucked the joy and love of sports out of him. There's hope that he'll find that perfect sport for him and he'll excel and enjoy sports. But for now, for this season, we had fun. And maybe, if I can talk his papa into it, maybe Cole can give soccer another try in the Fall. Maybe.
May brought Jake's college graduation AND his surprise party. When Jake first started talking about graduation I immediately suggested we throw a party and Jake kind of danced around it and I pretended to let it go. But I started planning early April, wove this huge elaborate web of lies that exhausted me, and in the end - he was surprised! I was in complete shock that he hadn't figured it out. He's quite perceptive and well, I'm a really terrible secret keeper when I'm excited. When he walked up to the party and saw the giant banner that said "Congratulations!" he thought it was party to tell him that I was pregnant. WHAT?! Who throws a party to tell their spouse they're pregnant? He was terrified at first, LOL! And then he saw the little graduation hats on the cupcakes and figured it out and that smile, oh boy, melts me every time. I would weave that web of lies over and over again just to see that smile. Just over a week later he graduated, Summa Cum Laude, with his BS in Professional Aeronautics. I was the beaming wife that day. He worked so hard for more hours than I could ever calculate to accomplish this goal. Watching him walk across that stage reminded me of one of the things that I love so much about this man.....failure is not an option. Never once did he contemplate quitting. Never once did he say "I can't" even when he had nothing left. He divided his time so meticulously between work, school, soccer practice, training for a bodybuilding show, the gym, Cole, Zella, myself and sleep that there was no room for anything in between but he made sure to make time for everything. He's inspiring. I swoon.
May brought Jake's mom to us!! Cheryl came to visit us for 12 days. She was here for Jakes party and his graduation. She saw Tybee Island, Hilton Head Island, Beaufort County by boat, a backroads trip to the Midlands to see my Aunt Jen, dinner at the Boathouse, breakfast at Squat & Gobble, church at Praise Assembly and so many things in between. Her visit brought some very much needed Grandma time for Cole and Zella and I can't lie, it was AMAZING to come home from work with dinner on the table! We laughed A LOT and when it was time to say goodbye, we boohoo'ed like babies. Wisconsin is way too far away. We were so blessed to have her with us for such an awesome time in Jake's life.
Right after Jake's graduation, we had Cole's Kindergarten graduation. When Jake left that morning to take Cole to school I had my mommy meltdown. I looked at Cole and realized that he is far from my baby boy. He's growing up, figuratively and literally. He's getting smarter - and learning to use it against us. He's reading and writing and adding and subtracting and he beams with pride in his success. And the Mommy in me, wants him to be my little chunk with the crazy curly hair again. I watched him walk across that stage with his little paper hat on and his hands in his pockets like Joe Cool Guy and all I could think was "there goes Jake". Every day, he's more and more like Jacob. And I'm okay with that. But so the end of Kindergarten came at a perfect time. I cheered and cried that day. It's been a rough year. Okay, real rough. But all we can do is look forward and try to make next years transition smoother. And pray. Gonna take a lot of prayer. We have 8 weeks of reflecting time before we are head first into another school year with Beaufort County and its lack of spell check. 8 weeks. Savoring them.
As for me, I'm kind of in awe. Have you ever looked at your life and realized that so many of the things you're enjoying right now, are the very things that you once hoped and prayed for? I look at each of my kids and remember the several months of trying to conceive with both of them and literally begging God for a positive test. And here they are, 6 and 2 years old. Poster children for the miracle of Gods creation. Tonight I was in the shower and Jake poked his head in the bathroom door and said "lets pray together when you're done". There was a time when I would have wondered whose house I was in......but not now. I am in love with a man that is in love with God! I can't help but think back to the time that Jake looked at me and said "we're rich!". I am. I am rich. And May, May brought days that allowed me to bask in that richness. May brought days that reminded me to give thanks for these blessings. May brought days that reminded me that Gods timing is always perfect. May brought days of encouragement.
May brought great anticipation for June!
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Soccer. Ohhhhhhh soccer.
Soccer. It's like the intro sport for all kids. You can fit lots of kids on the field at the same time, its high energy, low requirement for brain power, and overall, pretty cheap. Makes sense. So when Cole was 4, almost 5, we took the proverbial plunge and dove into our PALS sports system. Our first season, Jake coached. Okay, here's how it REALLY went down. He went in to sign Cole up and the people in the office thought "hey, here's a young, super fit dad, wonder if he'd like to sacrifice his sanity and Saturdays and be a volunteer coach?" so they called Jake and told him that if they couldn't find enough volunteer coaches, some kids wouldn't be able to play......meaning, our kid. Two weeks later Jake had a whistle in his hands and a roster complete with 11 kids that all had NEVER played soccer before. Attached to his roster was the medical alerts list. One child was allergic to grass, one would get severe nosebleeds if he got too hot, one had Cochlear implants and his mom didn't want him to get hit, one needed us to carry an epi-pen and one said "exercise induced asthma". We were the Bad News Bears in poop colored jerseys (no lie, they were poo brown). BUT, the season went great! The kids learned, Jake learned that he has WAY more patience than he ever thought he could have with that many 4 year olds and they LOVED him. And the best part for me, was watching Cole absolutely enjoy himself. Yes, he had FUN!
Our first season of soccer, Cole was really driven by his desire to please Jake. It was hilarious to watch him because he was just so happy to be out there and he would run along side the cluster of kids attacking the ball just giggling and jogging, giggle and jog, giggle and jog. He scored 4 goals that season and by the end of the season had really flourished and became one of the better players on the team. So we decided, okay great, he can play again in Fall. And he did. And it was a rough start at first but he did great and he had fun and he even scored a few goals again! So when soccer registration rolled around this year, it didn't surprise me at all when we gave Cole the option of soccer or baseball, and he chose soccer. We requested to be on a team that has some awesome folks on it and a great coach and I figured this was going to be our best season yet. I was wrong.
It's been kind of a rough go so far. Cole's so preoccupied with doing things like throwing up his Nixon peace signs mid field that he can't concentrate on where the ball is. Yes, he very randomly smiles and throws up double peace signs. Unfortunately for Cole, he's not able to run and "peace" and the same time so the peace signs tend to be a HUGE issue mid game. One practice, coach had the kids lined up to try and score goals. Where's Cole? Yeah that's right, at the back of the line, on his back, making "grass angels". Coach says "Cole, throw the ball in just like this" and he demonstrates how to throw the ball over your head from the sideline.....so Cole tosses it up and slams it down like its a volleyball, then the peace signs go up. I'm not mad at him for being a free spirit. The kids hilarious. He's got his daddy's sense of humor and inability to draw the line in the sand and know when it's time to stop. But I am struggling to teach him the when and the where. Where its appropriate and when he needs to stop being the clown and focus.
So far, the games have been pretty good.....okay, not the one where the sprinklers came on mid game and they had to play through it. He was pretty bad during that one, but that game aside, things have been okay. As long as the game keeps moving, he's good. Until Saturday. Saturday was bad. It was really really BAD. First of all, we might as well have been playing soccer with the devil because it was hot enough that it felt like hell and all of the kids were grumpy as demons. We had to show up early to take pictures that no one ordered because they were WAY overpriced so by the time game time rolled around the kids were all worn out and the parents were barely cheering because moving or exerting energy meant more sweat and body heat. I look out on the field and Cole's doing the shoulder slump. If any of you have ever seen Cole do the shoulder slump, you can laugh right now. He drops his chin to his chest, rolls his shoulders over forward and hangs his hands as low as he can and flops them around as he drags his feet, all the while almost tripping over his pouty lip. Its been a really long time since I've seen the full blown slump. I thought that maybe we had moved past it.....but nope! In the middle of the game, as he's supposed to be on offense and kids are running all around him trying to you know, kick the soccer ball, he's doing the slump. The competitor in me started to rip through me like a tornado. And then Jake saw it. Our blood was both literally and figuratively boiling at that point. We're athletes. How can you just let your team down like that? I mean sure, it's not like he threw the game in a point shaving scandal but come on man! TRY!!!! The next quarter he told coach he wanted to sit out. God Bless Coach. He's got a great attitude, he's hilarious, he's patient and he's fun......and he's also an athlete. Pretty sure this irritated him as much as it did us. You WANT to sit out?!!! We made it through the game and tried to take a team picture afterward. Our picture is missing one child that had a meltdown mid game and his dad took him home and then it might as well be missing Cole. Standing in the back row, complete with purple gatorade ring around his mouth and the tip of his nose, rather than wearing a smile like the rest of his team, Cole is wearing the crinkle face of a sobbing child....because even though they were having their picture taken, he thought he had missed the picture? Still can't figure that one out. In one of the pictures his eyes are all big and he's leaning backward as he's gasping for air between sobs. Either way......not a great memory. And not a great ride home. And since that day the word soccer has evoked sighing and grunting from both myself and Jake. And now here we are again, Soccer Tuesday. Much like Taco Tuesday in that we will definitely have heart burn but not quite as easy as chopping some lettuce and tossing in a packet of seasoning. What is going on? What happened to our kid? Since when does he just stop trying?!!!
Something happened. Okay, not something. Kindergarten. Kindergarten happened. Other kids happened. Cole's once, very rosey view of his life changed and for the first time, he's become very aware of his athletic status...."meh". Yes, I said it. He's just average. And while that's totally okay......its not at all - because now he knows. Kids are mean sometimes. Even if its just someone laughing at him because he wears the same tennis shoes every day (I just need to add here, that he doesn't, and it wouldn't matter if he did, but some punk kid just decided to pick on him one day because he's too sweet and nice to defend himself). And then an older child at after school made fun of him because he didn't know his multiplication tables (again, in Kindergarten), but he doesn't understand that. His life of comparing himself to other kids has started and at such a young age he doesn't know how to rationalize things the way that we do as adults. He just feels not good enough. And if he's not good enough then why try? And I get it. Kids that aren't naturally talented athletically have to learn team sports from a different angle. They have to learn what it means to support the team, because it won't be them getting the glory. It will be a star teammate. They have to learn about the heart and the commitment, not about the fun of scoring all the goals and people cheering your name. They have to learn how to play a supporting, rather than a starring role. And from experience, that's a tough lesson. And its NOT OK for him to give up just because he's not the best. And we have NO idea how to teach him without it sounding like crazy soccer mom and dad yelling at him......but the comfort we find is knowing that we don't have to know how to teach him, we have a guideline and so when we can't find the words, we know where to look for them.
1 Corinthians 10:31 says "so whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God".
Colossians 3:23 says "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for man".
So tonight, before Cole's game, we'll read these verses together, talk about how even soccer falls into this and in my mind I will be secretly hoping that if mom and dad's opinion doesn't matter to him, hopefully Gods does. I'll remind myself to build him up and encourage him and maybe even lie to him a little about his ability in an effort to thwart the negative thoughts he's obviously got about his soccer skills. And we will try to take a normal team picture and there will be no blue gatorade this game. Jake and I will sit on the sidelines and cheer. I'll multi-task and cheer/pray, pray/cheer that he at least shows an interest so that Jake won't pull him for the rest of the season. I'll secretly be praying that he scores a goal, just one, just for that confidence booster. Just so he sees that he's good enough. Just so I can see him smile and giggle again......and maybe, just maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll get to see double peace signs :)
Our first season of soccer, Cole was really driven by his desire to please Jake. It was hilarious to watch him because he was just so happy to be out there and he would run along side the cluster of kids attacking the ball just giggling and jogging, giggle and jog, giggle and jog. He scored 4 goals that season and by the end of the season had really flourished and became one of the better players on the team. So we decided, okay great, he can play again in Fall. And he did. And it was a rough start at first but he did great and he had fun and he even scored a few goals again! So when soccer registration rolled around this year, it didn't surprise me at all when we gave Cole the option of soccer or baseball, and he chose soccer. We requested to be on a team that has some awesome folks on it and a great coach and I figured this was going to be our best season yet. I was wrong.
It's been kind of a rough go so far. Cole's so preoccupied with doing things like throwing up his Nixon peace signs mid field that he can't concentrate on where the ball is. Yes, he very randomly smiles and throws up double peace signs. Unfortunately for Cole, he's not able to run and "peace" and the same time so the peace signs tend to be a HUGE issue mid game. One practice, coach had the kids lined up to try and score goals. Where's Cole? Yeah that's right, at the back of the line, on his back, making "grass angels". Coach says "Cole, throw the ball in just like this" and he demonstrates how to throw the ball over your head from the sideline.....so Cole tosses it up and slams it down like its a volleyball, then the peace signs go up. I'm not mad at him for being a free spirit. The kids hilarious. He's got his daddy's sense of humor and inability to draw the line in the sand and know when it's time to stop. But I am struggling to teach him the when and the where. Where its appropriate and when he needs to stop being the clown and focus.
So far, the games have been pretty good.....okay, not the one where the sprinklers came on mid game and they had to play through it. He was pretty bad during that one, but that game aside, things have been okay. As long as the game keeps moving, he's good. Until Saturday. Saturday was bad. It was really really BAD. First of all, we might as well have been playing soccer with the devil because it was hot enough that it felt like hell and all of the kids were grumpy as demons. We had to show up early to take pictures that no one ordered because they were WAY overpriced so by the time game time rolled around the kids were all worn out and the parents were barely cheering because moving or exerting energy meant more sweat and body heat. I look out on the field and Cole's doing the shoulder slump. If any of you have ever seen Cole do the shoulder slump, you can laugh right now. He drops his chin to his chest, rolls his shoulders over forward and hangs his hands as low as he can and flops them around as he drags his feet, all the while almost tripping over his pouty lip. Its been a really long time since I've seen the full blown slump. I thought that maybe we had moved past it.....but nope! In the middle of the game, as he's supposed to be on offense and kids are running all around him trying to you know, kick the soccer ball, he's doing the slump. The competitor in me started to rip through me like a tornado. And then Jake saw it. Our blood was both literally and figuratively boiling at that point. We're athletes. How can you just let your team down like that? I mean sure, it's not like he threw the game in a point shaving scandal but come on man! TRY!!!! The next quarter he told coach he wanted to sit out. God Bless Coach. He's got a great attitude, he's hilarious, he's patient and he's fun......and he's also an athlete. Pretty sure this irritated him as much as it did us. You WANT to sit out?!!! We made it through the game and tried to take a team picture afterward. Our picture is missing one child that had a meltdown mid game and his dad took him home and then it might as well be missing Cole. Standing in the back row, complete with purple gatorade ring around his mouth and the tip of his nose, rather than wearing a smile like the rest of his team, Cole is wearing the crinkle face of a sobbing child....because even though they were having their picture taken, he thought he had missed the picture? Still can't figure that one out. In one of the pictures his eyes are all big and he's leaning backward as he's gasping for air between sobs. Either way......not a great memory. And not a great ride home. And since that day the word soccer has evoked sighing and grunting from both myself and Jake. And now here we are again, Soccer Tuesday. Much like Taco Tuesday in that we will definitely have heart burn but not quite as easy as chopping some lettuce and tossing in a packet of seasoning. What is going on? What happened to our kid? Since when does he just stop trying?!!!
Something happened. Okay, not something. Kindergarten. Kindergarten happened. Other kids happened. Cole's once, very rosey view of his life changed and for the first time, he's become very aware of his athletic status...."meh". Yes, I said it. He's just average. And while that's totally okay......its not at all - because now he knows. Kids are mean sometimes. Even if its just someone laughing at him because he wears the same tennis shoes every day (I just need to add here, that he doesn't, and it wouldn't matter if he did, but some punk kid just decided to pick on him one day because he's too sweet and nice to defend himself). And then an older child at after school made fun of him because he didn't know his multiplication tables (again, in Kindergarten), but he doesn't understand that. His life of comparing himself to other kids has started and at such a young age he doesn't know how to rationalize things the way that we do as adults. He just feels not good enough. And if he's not good enough then why try? And I get it. Kids that aren't naturally talented athletically have to learn team sports from a different angle. They have to learn what it means to support the team, because it won't be them getting the glory. It will be a star teammate. They have to learn about the heart and the commitment, not about the fun of scoring all the goals and people cheering your name. They have to learn how to play a supporting, rather than a starring role. And from experience, that's a tough lesson. And its NOT OK for him to give up just because he's not the best. And we have NO idea how to teach him without it sounding like crazy soccer mom and dad yelling at him......but the comfort we find is knowing that we don't have to know how to teach him, we have a guideline and so when we can't find the words, we know where to look for them.
1 Corinthians 10:31 says "so whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God".
Colossians 3:23 says "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for man".
So tonight, before Cole's game, we'll read these verses together, talk about how even soccer falls into this and in my mind I will be secretly hoping that if mom and dad's opinion doesn't matter to him, hopefully Gods does. I'll remind myself to build him up and encourage him and maybe even lie to him a little about his ability in an effort to thwart the negative thoughts he's obviously got about his soccer skills. And we will try to take a normal team picture and there will be no blue gatorade this game. Jake and I will sit on the sidelines and cheer. I'll multi-task and cheer/pray, pray/cheer that he at least shows an interest so that Jake won't pull him for the rest of the season. I'll secretly be praying that he scores a goal, just one, just for that confidence booster. Just so he sees that he's good enough. Just so I can see him smile and giggle again......and maybe, just maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll get to see double peace signs :)
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
ADD
My handsome husband is at work, the laundry is put away with the last load in the dryer, the babies are sleeping and the bathroom is cleaned (someone is going to need to resuscitate Jake right now because this one might have sent him into shock) and I've been thinking about this for about a week now.....time to blog it.
In August when Cole started Kindergarten we had these ideas of rapid learning and high fives over homework, smiley face stickers on top of coloring pages and tales of who played tag at recess. The reality was much much harsher than the fantasy. The notes came home with comments like "very disrespectful during music class. Kicked my keyboard" or "Cole had to be removed from carpet time today because he was laying on his side rolling back and forth trying to knock the other children over. When asked what he was doing he replied "bowling"." By the third week of school, Jake and I were laying hands on him every morning and praying that he would find a way to control his body and teach his brain to focus. It was bad. We knew going in to Kindergarten that Cole was hyperactive. We also knew that for his age, he was advanced so he might be bored and also well, he was a 5 year old boy. That alone could explain so many things. But it became clear to us, very very quickly, that we had to do something different, something other than what we were currently attempting, but failing, to do. Off to the doctor and yes, the official diagnosis. ADHD. No big surprise. But so the big deal was do we medicate? Do we not medicate? It took about 2 seconds for Jake and I to agree No. So we started talking about our other options. Our Dr. has been wonderful in providing us education about ADHD, support, literature, forums, etc. and he has really stressed, like everytime we see him stressed...."behavior modification". Basically we find ways to reach Cole, learning alternatives, anything to create a routine for him that works for everyone.
So we try. And sometimes its great and sometimes its really tough. These last two weeks fall under really tough. I'm the ADHD matriarch in this house. I'm the reminder of "he can't help it" when Cole is break dancing naked with one leg in his underwear when he's supposed to be getting dressed for bed. So when I'm off......Cole's off. Jake breaking his ankle threw us for a loop. It was like I was a single mom to three, one of which was adult sized and in a lot of pain. And I made it work....but my mental state took a rapid plummet by day 5. And there was no effort to help Cole....which meant Cole at full blast, Zella in total terrible 2's mode and Mommy with not a lot of patience. Last Monday morning I put the kids in the car, shut the door, walked to the end of the driveway, screamed at the top of my lungs, and got in the car and headed to school. After I dropped the kids off I proceeded to have a minor (okay thats a lie, it was ridiculously overdramatic) meltdown. At the end of one of the sobbing sessions it hit me in the face.......I have ADD.
Not the same kind Cole has, but kind of yeah. Mine is spiritual ADHD. Where I can't seem to listen to God, I can't remember to just "be still" and so quickly, on a daily basis, I forget the instructions and go my own way, distracted by the little things like clean bathrooms and end of driveway meltdowns. And I think about how I feel when Cole doesn't seem to care. When he puts in no effort at all to change the things that I'm asking him to do, even though he says "yes mommy" when I ask.....I think about how as God's child. I am the exact same way with Him, and how much deeper He must hurt than I do....which means it's completely heartbreaking for Him. And then I think about the behavior modification.....how when I get down on my knees and I hold Coles face in my hands to talk to him, so that we're eye to eye and hes watching me as he's hearing me, how he really HEARS me and he follows through. I think about how its the same when God holds me by the cheeks and speaks to me, forcing me to listen because He's been saying it for so long and I've been ignoring Him, I think about how easy it is to follow the instructions, when I focus on Him, while He's talking to me. I can't help but think about our morning routine and how Cole can literally take an entire morning just to put his shoes on and it makes me so angry, but the solution is so simple, set a timer and he can do it in 2 minutes, on, tied and ready to roll. And so I can't help but wonder how God feels in the mornings when it takes me so long to acknowledge Him.....when the simple fix is to set my alarm, so that I specifically have time for Him. I think about how when we give Cole too many instructions at one time, he gets easily distracted and forgets the tasks at hand. The solution is to create a chart with his tasks on it, write it down so he can refer back to the list when he forgets his jobs. Kind of how I forget the instructions so easily, so my Father, God, wrote it all down for me, so that I can go back and reference that anytime I forget or get lost. I could go on all night. The parallels are astounding. How quickly I forget how deep the depth really was, or lonely lost can be, or how many times He's pulled me from that place, or how many times He's calmed the storm in me, or blessed me beyond my dreams, or worked literal miracles in my life, or answered prayers or died for me or conquered death. How quickly I forget, when I'm standing at the end of my driveway, screaming at the top of my lungs because I'm stretched so thin for these three people that I love more than anything in this world.....how quickly I forget how He must have felt, stretched thin for me, and for Jake, Cole and Zella, and for all of Gods children, up there on that cross. And He did it for me. For me. Even though I forget. And He knew I would. He did it anyways. He has the patience with me that only the parent of an ADHD child can have.....patience beyond understanding. Love above all else. He loves me anyways.
This morning at breakfast, in the total quiet of our kitchen, Cole said to me, "God is king of everything". And he took another bite of cereal. Its those moments. Those are the ones that remind me that God's love has changed me and Jake enough that even through the daily struggle of his ADHD, we are loving him and raising him to love God and the rest will just happen. We'll struggle. We'll forget. But He'll pull us out, grab us by the cheeks, force us to look Him in the eye and listen. Because that's what love does. Oh, how He loves us!
Behavior modification. Nothing will ever change, if you don't ever change anything.
In August when Cole started Kindergarten we had these ideas of rapid learning and high fives over homework, smiley face stickers on top of coloring pages and tales of who played tag at recess. The reality was much much harsher than the fantasy. The notes came home with comments like "very disrespectful during music class. Kicked my keyboard" or "Cole had to be removed from carpet time today because he was laying on his side rolling back and forth trying to knock the other children over. When asked what he was doing he replied "bowling"." By the third week of school, Jake and I were laying hands on him every morning and praying that he would find a way to control his body and teach his brain to focus. It was bad. We knew going in to Kindergarten that Cole was hyperactive. We also knew that for his age, he was advanced so he might be bored and also well, he was a 5 year old boy. That alone could explain so many things. But it became clear to us, very very quickly, that we had to do something different, something other than what we were currently attempting, but failing, to do. Off to the doctor and yes, the official diagnosis. ADHD. No big surprise. But so the big deal was do we medicate? Do we not medicate? It took about 2 seconds for Jake and I to agree No. So we started talking about our other options. Our Dr. has been wonderful in providing us education about ADHD, support, literature, forums, etc. and he has really stressed, like everytime we see him stressed...."behavior modification". Basically we find ways to reach Cole, learning alternatives, anything to create a routine for him that works for everyone.
So we try. And sometimes its great and sometimes its really tough. These last two weeks fall under really tough. I'm the ADHD matriarch in this house. I'm the reminder of "he can't help it" when Cole is break dancing naked with one leg in his underwear when he's supposed to be getting dressed for bed. So when I'm off......Cole's off. Jake breaking his ankle threw us for a loop. It was like I was a single mom to three, one of which was adult sized and in a lot of pain. And I made it work....but my mental state took a rapid plummet by day 5. And there was no effort to help Cole....which meant Cole at full blast, Zella in total terrible 2's mode and Mommy with not a lot of patience. Last Monday morning I put the kids in the car, shut the door, walked to the end of the driveway, screamed at the top of my lungs, and got in the car and headed to school. After I dropped the kids off I proceeded to have a minor (okay thats a lie, it was ridiculously overdramatic) meltdown. At the end of one of the sobbing sessions it hit me in the face.......I have ADD.
Not the same kind Cole has, but kind of yeah. Mine is spiritual ADHD. Where I can't seem to listen to God, I can't remember to just "be still" and so quickly, on a daily basis, I forget the instructions and go my own way, distracted by the little things like clean bathrooms and end of driveway meltdowns. And I think about how I feel when Cole doesn't seem to care. When he puts in no effort at all to change the things that I'm asking him to do, even though he says "yes mommy" when I ask.....I think about how as God's child. I am the exact same way with Him, and how much deeper He must hurt than I do....which means it's completely heartbreaking for Him. And then I think about the behavior modification.....how when I get down on my knees and I hold Coles face in my hands to talk to him, so that we're eye to eye and hes watching me as he's hearing me, how he really HEARS me and he follows through. I think about how its the same when God holds me by the cheeks and speaks to me, forcing me to listen because He's been saying it for so long and I've been ignoring Him, I think about how easy it is to follow the instructions, when I focus on Him, while He's talking to me. I can't help but think about our morning routine and how Cole can literally take an entire morning just to put his shoes on and it makes me so angry, but the solution is so simple, set a timer and he can do it in 2 minutes, on, tied and ready to roll. And so I can't help but wonder how God feels in the mornings when it takes me so long to acknowledge Him.....when the simple fix is to set my alarm, so that I specifically have time for Him. I think about how when we give Cole too many instructions at one time, he gets easily distracted and forgets the tasks at hand. The solution is to create a chart with his tasks on it, write it down so he can refer back to the list when he forgets his jobs. Kind of how I forget the instructions so easily, so my Father, God, wrote it all down for me, so that I can go back and reference that anytime I forget or get lost. I could go on all night. The parallels are astounding. How quickly I forget how deep the depth really was, or lonely lost can be, or how many times He's pulled me from that place, or how many times He's calmed the storm in me, or blessed me beyond my dreams, or worked literal miracles in my life, or answered prayers or died for me or conquered death. How quickly I forget, when I'm standing at the end of my driveway, screaming at the top of my lungs because I'm stretched so thin for these three people that I love more than anything in this world.....how quickly I forget how He must have felt, stretched thin for me, and for Jake, Cole and Zella, and for all of Gods children, up there on that cross. And He did it for me. For me. Even though I forget. And He knew I would. He did it anyways. He has the patience with me that only the parent of an ADHD child can have.....patience beyond understanding. Love above all else. He loves me anyways.
This morning at breakfast, in the total quiet of our kitchen, Cole said to me, "God is king of everything". And he took another bite of cereal. Its those moments. Those are the ones that remind me that God's love has changed me and Jake enough that even through the daily struggle of his ADHD, we are loving him and raising him to love God and the rest will just happen. We'll struggle. We'll forget. But He'll pull us out, grab us by the cheeks, force us to look Him in the eye and listen. Because that's what love does. Oh, how He loves us!
Behavior modification. Nothing will ever change, if you don't ever change anything.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Joy
"I can find joy here, too. That God is in the days that go as planned. And God is in the days that don't." -Katie Davis
First let me say that if you're reading this blog, and you haven't ever read Katie Davis' blog, or her book, or read about Amazima, read it. Go there now. kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com When you get there, you'll understand why I sent you.
So Saturday night I was catching up on her blog posts. And this line grabbed me......"I can find JOY here, too. That God is in the days that go as planned. And God is in the days that don't." And today, it kept repeating itself in my head.....God is here. Find the joy.
Jake and I have been together almost 10 years. In the beginning of our relationship I remember the panic that ensued (we were only dating at the time) when I got a phone call that said Jake had lost all feeling in his legs during his PFT and the ambulance was taking him to the ER. Panic. The time that the surgeon was explaining to us that they would need to also have a Vascular Surgeon on staff during Jakes back surgery in order to move his main arteries away from the drill and screws that would be used on his spine. That there was a chance that after surgery, he would be sterile. Panic. The time he called and said "dont panic".....always panic when a man says not to panic.....and he had been unconscious in the woods for hours, 6 months post back surgery, after being thrown over the handle bars of a dirt bike. Panic. Panic Panic Panic. Today, when one of Jakes friends called and said that he asked them to call and he was being taken to the ER, that it sounded like celery had snapped, panic. But not panic because I don't know for a fact that God is with him in every single one of these situations. Panic because he's alone. Panic because I can't teleport myself to his location to hold his hand. Panic that in that very moment, I can't fix it. That's what I do. Gods the foundation of the family, Jake's the leader, and I'm the glue.
As I was driving all over Beaufort County today it kept coming back to me. Find the joy. Find the joy. God is here.
When I got to the hospital I found a very different Jake than the last several times we've been in those same shoes. He was laughing. He was gutting his way through the pain. He wasn't using foul language. He was being incredibly courteous to the very talkative nurse that kept hitting his foot with her leg as she was preparing to wrap it. He was grateful for the care that had been provided and sympathetic toward the nurses in knowing that their jobs are far less than glamorous. He was sitting on the bed, head bobbing back and forth as he swore the morphine shot wasn't working, and I found the joy. I found the joy that God put in Jacob. The joy that has changed his life, and our marriage.....even the very very painful (both literal and metaphorical) times. Joy.
And I kept finding it. When I got to my amazing sisters house and I found Zella sitting in her lap eating dinner, smearing spaghetti sauce all over McCall, who couldn't care less, because kids are kids. I found the joy in realizing that no matter the day or the time, the plan or the un-plan, McCall says "yes" to 2 more kids. 2 more screaming and needing to eat and running wild through her living room in addition to her 4. Because she loves them. And that's all that matters. Joy in the love of my sister.
We were in the car on our way home and Cole was pretty upset that Jakes hurt. I don't even have to elaborate. How sweet is that? To have a child so thoughtful and loving and tender that he shed tears because Daddy was in pain. JOY. To hear Jake tell Cole that he doesn't have to worry about daddy, because Gods going to take care of him. JOY. To hear Jake remind Cole that no matter where he is, if he's scared or feeling anxious or just really really happy, that he can talk to God too, and Gods there. JOY. To go on a five minute rant saying "I am the mother in this family. It doesn't matter if I get sick. Its a non-optional. I'm fine" and to hear Jake say "you matter". JOY. To have the pleasure and honor of taking care of Jake tonight. To call myself his "wife". JOY. We've opened the floodgates.
Today was the day that didn't go as planned. We've had several like this one and they have gotten no less gut wrenching over the years. Did we have a plan this morning other than get the kids to school and get to work? No. But we did kind of have an un-plan. Things like "today we will not contract the flu and bring it home to our poor unsuspecting family members" or "today I will not get into a car accident" or most importantly "today, I will not need for any reason to go to the hospital". Its the unwritten daily code. The things that you never ever plan to do. But I found joy today, in a perfect execution of the un-plan that I could have never found in the plan. And that's God. He's there. In every single day.....the good ones and the really bad ones. And we can find joy there, too.
First let me say that if you're reading this blog, and you haven't ever read Katie Davis' blog, or her book, or read about Amazima, read it. Go there now. kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com When you get there, you'll understand why I sent you.
So Saturday night I was catching up on her blog posts. And this line grabbed me......"I can find JOY here, too. That God is in the days that go as planned. And God is in the days that don't." And today, it kept repeating itself in my head.....God is here. Find the joy.
Jake and I have been together almost 10 years. In the beginning of our relationship I remember the panic that ensued (we were only dating at the time) when I got a phone call that said Jake had lost all feeling in his legs during his PFT and the ambulance was taking him to the ER. Panic. The time that the surgeon was explaining to us that they would need to also have a Vascular Surgeon on staff during Jakes back surgery in order to move his main arteries away from the drill and screws that would be used on his spine. That there was a chance that after surgery, he would be sterile. Panic. The time he called and said "dont panic".....always panic when a man says not to panic.....and he had been unconscious in the woods for hours, 6 months post back surgery, after being thrown over the handle bars of a dirt bike. Panic. Panic Panic Panic. Today, when one of Jakes friends called and said that he asked them to call and he was being taken to the ER, that it sounded like celery had snapped, panic. But not panic because I don't know for a fact that God is with him in every single one of these situations. Panic because he's alone. Panic because I can't teleport myself to his location to hold his hand. Panic that in that very moment, I can't fix it. That's what I do. Gods the foundation of the family, Jake's the leader, and I'm the glue.
As I was driving all over Beaufort County today it kept coming back to me. Find the joy. Find the joy. God is here.
When I got to the hospital I found a very different Jake than the last several times we've been in those same shoes. He was laughing. He was gutting his way through the pain. He wasn't using foul language. He was being incredibly courteous to the very talkative nurse that kept hitting his foot with her leg as she was preparing to wrap it. He was grateful for the care that had been provided and sympathetic toward the nurses in knowing that their jobs are far less than glamorous. He was sitting on the bed, head bobbing back and forth as he swore the morphine shot wasn't working, and I found the joy. I found the joy that God put in Jacob. The joy that has changed his life, and our marriage.....even the very very painful (both literal and metaphorical) times. Joy.
And I kept finding it. When I got to my amazing sisters house and I found Zella sitting in her lap eating dinner, smearing spaghetti sauce all over McCall, who couldn't care less, because kids are kids. I found the joy in realizing that no matter the day or the time, the plan or the un-plan, McCall says "yes" to 2 more kids. 2 more screaming and needing to eat and running wild through her living room in addition to her 4. Because she loves them. And that's all that matters. Joy in the love of my sister.
We were in the car on our way home and Cole was pretty upset that Jakes hurt. I don't even have to elaborate. How sweet is that? To have a child so thoughtful and loving and tender that he shed tears because Daddy was in pain. JOY. To hear Jake tell Cole that he doesn't have to worry about daddy, because Gods going to take care of him. JOY. To hear Jake remind Cole that no matter where he is, if he's scared or feeling anxious or just really really happy, that he can talk to God too, and Gods there. JOY. To go on a five minute rant saying "I am the mother in this family. It doesn't matter if I get sick. Its a non-optional. I'm fine" and to hear Jake say "you matter". JOY. To have the pleasure and honor of taking care of Jake tonight. To call myself his "wife". JOY. We've opened the floodgates.
Today was the day that didn't go as planned. We've had several like this one and they have gotten no less gut wrenching over the years. Did we have a plan this morning other than get the kids to school and get to work? No. But we did kind of have an un-plan. Things like "today we will not contract the flu and bring it home to our poor unsuspecting family members" or "today I will not get into a car accident" or most importantly "today, I will not need for any reason to go to the hospital". Its the unwritten daily code. The things that you never ever plan to do. But I found joy today, in a perfect execution of the un-plan that I could have never found in the plan. And that's God. He's there. In every single day.....the good ones and the really bad ones. And we can find joy there, too.
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