I can't possibly go through today without acknowledging it's significance. Today (in about 2 hours to be exact) marks 1 year since David Benjamin Kubnick entered the US, became a citizen, and entered our home for the very first time. A whole year.
Years used to seem longer to me. When we started having kids and the speed of life started to mimic the speed of light, years got shorter. This year, however, has been different. It has been short and long. The best and the worst. The easiest and the hardest. We were driving home from Cole's football game today and I was on a scenic route through Bluffton, windows down, sun on my face, angry little girl in the middle seat, super angry little boy in the back seat. And in my head I was like "how is this my life?" And THEN, the cars in front of me started braking and I saw an SUV half pulled off the road about a half mile ahead. There were 2 people standing behind the car and I was all kinds of irritated. Why can't they pull all the way off the road? People are just the worst! And then all of the cars were going suuuuuuper slow. The kind of slow that allows you to sufficiently mean mug the people causing the chaos. As we drove closer to the car, a tiny little white haired lady was barely making it walking to the back of her car. She had on a perfectly pressed, bleach white cardigan sweater set and perfectly pressed slacks. Her hair had clearly been rolled recently as it was stiff and perfect. And she was STRUGGLING to walk along side her car. But she made it to the back. Just as I was driving up on her car. And this is what I saw......
A homeless man was pushing a grocery cart full of bags. Bags in the cart and tied to the sides of the cart. He was filthy. And this little lady had pulled her car off the road in front of him. And she struggled her way alongside the road, and as I passed, she had her hands on him. Touching him. And her eyes were closed. She was praying over him. In her perfect, clean, white hair, white sweater, she didn't care if she stopped traffic on I-95, she was touching this man. And praying for him.
I drove the rest of the way home thinking about the struggle. About how sometimes, as Christians, and even as non-believers, we become numb to the struggle. We forcefully desensitize ourselves to the hurt, and we completely miss the opportunity that God is giving us to walk out of the struggle a new person. We start to accept the "hard". We just say "this is my life now" and we tread in stagnant water for the rest of our lives. We are given choices. We are handed circumstances. And we are afforded the luxury of grace, daily, and a do-over and another chance with each rising sun. And we just tread. And we drudge. Because "this is my life now". And I was thinking about this woman, in her old age. What has she seen in her lifetime? I can't fathom the burdens she has carried. I can't even stomach the loss she has suffered. She could have driven by that man today and chalked it up to safety or to the fact that it took her a decade to walk to the back of the car. But she didn't. She didn't just accept her personal circumstance. She chose to be better than her circumstance.
We walk through every single day of life like that homeless man today. Our carts are full of baggage. We've got baggage tied to the side and pouring out over the edges. But God meets us. In his bleach white sweater of perfection, with no need for us or personal gain amounting from meeting us, He does it. Right there in our circumstances. And He expects us to stop treading in circumstantial stagnant water, and start relishing in living water.
One of the greatest challenges of this year for me has been learning to love the way that God loves me. And the first thing I had to do was to understand that love is not at all a feeling. It's a verb. It shows up. It forgives. It humbles itself. It sacrifices. It puts itself dead last. It pushes through and perseveres. It fights. It endures. It does not feel all tingly inside. It does not give you butterflies. It does not kiss your forehead. It prays for it's enemies. It rejoices in suffering. It trusts that God's will is the only will. It does not fail.
I may not ever be capable of loving anyone in this capacity, but one year ago today, God loved David Benjamin Kubnick enough to put him in a family that would introduce him to the greatest love he will ever know. And God loves Jake and I so much, that every morning, when He tells the sun to rise, He gives us another day to break the cycle. He gives us another day to walk through the fire. He gives us another circumstance and another choice. We've had a year full of them. Our prayers have changed many times over this year. And tonight they will change again........my prayer for our family, and for yours as well, is that we do not let the "hard", harden us. That we continue to seek God's purpose in the struggle, rather than surrender to it.
It has been a WHOLE year since we stepped off that plane. A WHOLE year closer to each of us allowing God to make us whole.
Saturday, October 4, 2014
Monday, September 29, 2014
Mom Things
When I was 18 years old, I spoke these words, "I am never getting married. I am never having kids." I remember what I was wearing, who I was speaking to and the circumstances surrounding the conversation like it was yesterday. If someone had told me that day, that in just a years' time, I would meet my husband and immediately start dreaming of a house full of kids, I probably would have showered them with expletives and quite possibly thrown a red snake skin boot at them. I was a different person then. Don't hate. Nonetheless, that's exactly what happened and now, 13 years later, here I am. Wife of 10 years. Mom of 3. Homeowner. Mini van driver. Stay at home mom. Cleaner of all things. Chef du jour. Dr. Kubnick. Excavator of all things lost. Chauffeur. The iron fist. Wiper of butts. I could go on and on because really, this is the hardest job I've EVER had. It has the longest hours and the customers can be wicked grumpy. The pay is chintzy and the HR department happens to be the same as the CEO,CFO and part time work force and they quit years ago. I try to find the real and the really funny parts of this job and take them with gigantic grains of salt and huge doses of laughter. And as I've been laughing, laboring and lamenting through my week, I realized that I've never really written about these "mom things". Well, most of them have come up this week, so, you're welcome.
1. It has been about 2.5 years since I last dreamed. Not like sleepytime dreams. The other kind of dreams. The kind of dreams that fuel the most accomplished people in the world. I used to have dreams. When I was younger they were to be a doctor or lawyer. At different times in my life those dreams have ranged from authoring a book to owning a business in a certain industry to having acres of land with horses, a barn, tons of kids (adopted and bio) and dogs. Lots and lots of dogs. And my dreams have changed just as much as my hair color over the years and also like my hair color, I can't remember the original. There has always been a crazy idea in my head. And about 2.5 years ago, this crazy adoption dream took hold of our family. And it consumed us. And in just over 1 week, David will have been home for a year. About two months ago, I started to realize how much I've lost myself in this mom thing. I do believe that God created mothers with the purpose of raising their children. But I also know that before we were mothers, we were all still God's creation. Becoming a mother doesn't negate all of the intricacy that God designed us with. And I think I forgot that. Or maybe I was just too tired to remember. But about two months I was having this moment and I started praying about God allowing me to dream again. I can't even lie, this last dream has not exactly unfolded the way that I imagined and there is a certain amount of fear in trying this whole stepping out in faith thing again. But God designed us to dream. He designed us to live with passion and to utilize the gifts that He handed to us. He designed us to faithfully pray about those dreams and about them lining up with His will. And He is faithful. He does have plans to prosper us. And not just the Mom "us", but the person "us". The one that He designed to fulfill His perfect plan. Mom thing #1 is this......God is allowing me to dream again. It's terrifying. And electrifying. And each of you should feel exactly the same way about said dreams. You should know by now that it won't be a quiet ride once they start to unfold (evil smirk). Grab your popcorn, kids.
2. I was at the gym one day last week doing squats, trying not to cry in the rack.....here's why. Two months ago, I hit my squat max at 155 lbs. When I first started working out with Jake, I could barely squat the bar. It was a HUGE deal to me the day I hit that max. Because I spent so long thinking "I'm just a Mom". And I'm not. I am not just a Mom. I am a ninja. I'm a superhero. I am freaking strong, people. Like an ox. Every time I hit a max I want to "raaaawwwrrrr" and not because I think that women that can beat up men are cool, no. Because it's an accomplishment to see that even though I think I can't, I CAN. In the last two months, something has happened to my body. I'm weak. I was struggling to squat 85 lbs. STRUG.LING. That's a huge difference. Of course Jake was just befuddled. Ever seen a man completely confused? It was Jake, staring at me with a bar across my shoulders, almost crying. And I came home, defeated. Because I worked SO HARD to get to where I was, to now be where I am. And isn't that kind of a Mom thing? I started trying to figure out what had happened and the last several years started to unfold in front of me. The way that I just gradually stopped taking care of myself. The way that I took so much pride in putting my family first and literally serving them day in and day out but completely forgetting that if I don't take care of myself, I'm not able to serve them. I started realizing the brevity of my unnecessary sacrifice. Nobody asked me to stop fixing my hair, or to stop getting highlights. Nobody suggested that maybe a new outfit every once in a while was undeserved. Nobody told me to eat crap food out of convenience because the time needed to be spent on someone else. Nobody ever said that I should stay up way too late on Pinterest trying to plan the perfect crafts and meals for my family, while sacrificing sleep and subsequently my health. Nobody ever, not one person, said that I should forego having that medical procedure done that would increase my quality of life, because the recovery would mean I couldn't take care of every single tiny thing. I did all of that to myself. Mom thing #2........we are needed. But we aren't needed so much that our families can't function for 2 hours without us while we go out and take care of ourselves. A burnt out mama is no more useful to her family than an absent one.
3. You know. I like to laugh. I really do. If you do something dumb. I'm probably going to laugh at with you. I love stupid jokes. The kind that kids hear on the playground at recess. I also love sarcasm. And I know people that hate sarcasm because they feel like it doesn't have a place for Christians as we are called to be full of grace, but I'm not that grace filled, Proverbs 31 woman just yet. God knows that. Here's the thing......what has happened to Moms and Dads and their senses of humor? Am I the ONLY parent left that laughs at my kids? I don't do it to their faces. All the time. But seriously. Kids are awesome. And also, Kids are funny. They are ridiculous. They are us in small form and we all know how entertaining we are. So why are all these moms so uptight? Parenting is HARD. And you know what makes it even harder? Not being able to find even a single ounce of humor in it OR not being able to recognize when another mom finds humor in it. We all have different coping mechanisms. Don't be that mom that when someone tells you something funny about their kid, you go "awwwwww, I feel sorry for them". No. Don't feel sorry. Feeling sorry never helped any kid in the history of ever. Empathy can go a long way. Feeling sorry is not the same as empathy. Mom thing #3.......get your panties out of a wad, moms and dads. Your kid is just as dysfunctional as mine. Might as well laugh with me.
4. I was sitting next to the tub tonight watching Zella (a.k.a. little ray of sunshine) splash and play as if there wasn't a care in the world. And I sat there next to her feeling completely defeated because upstairs, in his bed, was a little boy VERY angry with me. I've been very transparent about our trials in the last year as we've welcomed David into our home. People know it's hard. I don't detail it because I know most people think we should be past that already. But here's the thing that I was made aware of in the last week or so.......I'm not the only one struggling. A lot of y'all have that kid that puts you to bed every night feeling like you failed God and at life and why in the world did God deem you capable of parenting this person? I thought about 3 different friends of mine that I had NO idea had these struggles.......1 that is struggling with the EXACT same issues with her biological daughter that we have with David. 1 that has 4 kids, all young, and can barely hold her head above water. And 1 that has a grown biological child that she struggled for years and years with. Behavioral, medical, psychological, developmental, etc. there are moms struggling with their kids in these areas every single minute of every single day and they are going to bed at night feeling completely alone? WHY, WHY for the love of all of the womanhood in the world, are we isolating ourselves like this? I share my story so openly because I know how lonely it feels over here sometimes and I just want even just one other person to know that their is someone that can relate. It isn't always bad. Parenting isn't always defeating. There is tragedy and there is triumph down here in the trenches. But you know what? God gave us these trials so that we can proclaim His glory. Is it glorifying to Him when we keep the trial secret, so then nobody sees the triumph? Here's what I know. God is working in Davids life. I posted a post two weeks ago on FB about how David was testing on grade level and how awesome is that after all he's been through and it got more likes than any other post in months......because it was the rainbow after the rain. If I had pretended like everything was roses and butterflies for the last year, that accomplishment wouldn't have had the same impact. Mom thing #4.......God wants to use our stories. The hilarious ones. The hard ones. And the amazing ones. And they all add up to be a vibrant, electrifying, powerful testimony. We have to stop subtracting the less attractive parts of the story. We don't write the story. God does. It's our job to tell it in its entirety. So that the world can see what He, in all of His faithfulness, has done.
There is more......there is always more. But someone needs to be wiped. Prayers need to be said and nighttime snuggles need to be administered.
Mom thing #5......at the end of the day. Pray over them. There is a battle happening for their souls that the love of mama and daddy can't win alone. Even if they feel like your enemy. Do it anyways. Even if you really really really screwed up. Do it anyways. Out of obedience. There is no power like that of a praying parent.
1. It has been about 2.5 years since I last dreamed. Not like sleepytime dreams. The other kind of dreams. The kind of dreams that fuel the most accomplished people in the world. I used to have dreams. When I was younger they were to be a doctor or lawyer. At different times in my life those dreams have ranged from authoring a book to owning a business in a certain industry to having acres of land with horses, a barn, tons of kids (adopted and bio) and dogs. Lots and lots of dogs. And my dreams have changed just as much as my hair color over the years and also like my hair color, I can't remember the original. There has always been a crazy idea in my head. And about 2.5 years ago, this crazy adoption dream took hold of our family. And it consumed us. And in just over 1 week, David will have been home for a year. About two months ago, I started to realize how much I've lost myself in this mom thing. I do believe that God created mothers with the purpose of raising their children. But I also know that before we were mothers, we were all still God's creation. Becoming a mother doesn't negate all of the intricacy that God designed us with. And I think I forgot that. Or maybe I was just too tired to remember. But about two months I was having this moment and I started praying about God allowing me to dream again. I can't even lie, this last dream has not exactly unfolded the way that I imagined and there is a certain amount of fear in trying this whole stepping out in faith thing again. But God designed us to dream. He designed us to live with passion and to utilize the gifts that He handed to us. He designed us to faithfully pray about those dreams and about them lining up with His will. And He is faithful. He does have plans to prosper us. And not just the Mom "us", but the person "us". The one that He designed to fulfill His perfect plan. Mom thing #1 is this......God is allowing me to dream again. It's terrifying. And electrifying. And each of you should feel exactly the same way about said dreams. You should know by now that it won't be a quiet ride once they start to unfold (evil smirk). Grab your popcorn, kids.
2. I was at the gym one day last week doing squats, trying not to cry in the rack.....here's why. Two months ago, I hit my squat max at 155 lbs. When I first started working out with Jake, I could barely squat the bar. It was a HUGE deal to me the day I hit that max. Because I spent so long thinking "I'm just a Mom". And I'm not. I am not just a Mom. I am a ninja. I'm a superhero. I am freaking strong, people. Like an ox. Every time I hit a max I want to "raaaawwwrrrr" and not because I think that women that can beat up men are cool, no. Because it's an accomplishment to see that even though I think I can't, I CAN. In the last two months, something has happened to my body. I'm weak. I was struggling to squat 85 lbs. STRUG.LING. That's a huge difference. Of course Jake was just befuddled. Ever seen a man completely confused? It was Jake, staring at me with a bar across my shoulders, almost crying. And I came home, defeated. Because I worked SO HARD to get to where I was, to now be where I am. And isn't that kind of a Mom thing? I started trying to figure out what had happened and the last several years started to unfold in front of me. The way that I just gradually stopped taking care of myself. The way that I took so much pride in putting my family first and literally serving them day in and day out but completely forgetting that if I don't take care of myself, I'm not able to serve them. I started realizing the brevity of my unnecessary sacrifice. Nobody asked me to stop fixing my hair, or to stop getting highlights. Nobody suggested that maybe a new outfit every once in a while was undeserved. Nobody told me to eat crap food out of convenience because the time needed to be spent on someone else. Nobody ever said that I should stay up way too late on Pinterest trying to plan the perfect crafts and meals for my family, while sacrificing sleep and subsequently my health. Nobody ever, not one person, said that I should forego having that medical procedure done that would increase my quality of life, because the recovery would mean I couldn't take care of every single tiny thing. I did all of that to myself. Mom thing #2........we are needed. But we aren't needed so much that our families can't function for 2 hours without us while we go out and take care of ourselves. A burnt out mama is no more useful to her family than an absent one.
3. You know. I like to laugh. I really do. If you do something dumb. I'm probably going to laugh
4. I was sitting next to the tub tonight watching Zella (a.k.a. little ray of sunshine) splash and play as if there wasn't a care in the world. And I sat there next to her feeling completely defeated because upstairs, in his bed, was a little boy VERY angry with me. I've been very transparent about our trials in the last year as we've welcomed David into our home. People know it's hard. I don't detail it because I know most people think we should be past that already. But here's the thing that I was made aware of in the last week or so.......I'm not the only one struggling. A lot of y'all have that kid that puts you to bed every night feeling like you failed God and at life and why in the world did God deem you capable of parenting this person? I thought about 3 different friends of mine that I had NO idea had these struggles.......1 that is struggling with the EXACT same issues with her biological daughter that we have with David. 1 that has 4 kids, all young, and can barely hold her head above water. And 1 that has a grown biological child that she struggled for years and years with. Behavioral, medical, psychological, developmental, etc. there are moms struggling with their kids in these areas every single minute of every single day and they are going to bed at night feeling completely alone? WHY, WHY for the love of all of the womanhood in the world, are we isolating ourselves like this? I share my story so openly because I know how lonely it feels over here sometimes and I just want even just one other person to know that their is someone that can relate. It isn't always bad. Parenting isn't always defeating. There is tragedy and there is triumph down here in the trenches. But you know what? God gave us these trials so that we can proclaim His glory. Is it glorifying to Him when we keep the trial secret, so then nobody sees the triumph? Here's what I know. God is working in Davids life. I posted a post two weeks ago on FB about how David was testing on grade level and how awesome is that after all he's been through and it got more likes than any other post in months......because it was the rainbow after the rain. If I had pretended like everything was roses and butterflies for the last year, that accomplishment wouldn't have had the same impact. Mom thing #4.......God wants to use our stories. The hilarious ones. The hard ones. And the amazing ones. And they all add up to be a vibrant, electrifying, powerful testimony. We have to stop subtracting the less attractive parts of the story. We don't write the story. God does. It's our job to tell it in its entirety. So that the world can see what He, in all of His faithfulness, has done.
There is more......there is always more. But someone needs to be wiped. Prayers need to be said and nighttime snuggles need to be administered.
Mom thing #5......at the end of the day. Pray over them. There is a battle happening for their souls that the love of mama and daddy can't win alone. Even if they feel like your enemy. Do it anyways. Even if you really really really screwed up. Do it anyways. Out of obedience. There is no power like that of a praying parent.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
School, the Beach and Spirit Fingers
I've been meaning to write all 3 of these posts for a couple of weeks. My last post got bumped by the ALS challenge post so now I'm doing a Sunday afternoon cram session and squeezing 3 things into one. Take your Ritalin. You're going to need to stay focused.
SCHOOL
Tuesday will start our 3rd week of school. So far, we haven't been asked to remove any children from school. This is an achievement for the Kubnick crew. Last year we had one stand on the lunch room table and refuse to get down.....that was the week after a teacher had to barricade the door to the classroom with her body to keep the same child from escaping (while he was giggling). I'm not kidding. But in all honesty, both Cole and David have loved the first two weeks of school.
Cole is getting to do a lot of Engineering this year in 3rd grade.......which he LOVES and insists that that love was facilitated by watching "How It's Made" on the Discovery Channel (yawn). He's in a smaller class this year (which mama LOVES) and his teacher is, just like every year since Kindergarten, super cute and young and fun. And not saying that he's checking her out, but it doesn't hurt the education process. He's making friends and learning and the best part? He's sleeping at night. Praise Jesus. Sleep and Cole Harrison are like oil and water. Exercising his body isn't enough to get him more than 5 hours in a night, but exercising his mind and the kid is out like a puppy. It's awesome.
David is in Kindergarten. Again. And he is real quick to tell alllllllllllll the other kids in his class that he's already "taken this class". His teacher said he very much realizes that he's a step ahead. And I'm okay with that. Let him be a step ahead. As long as those steps keep stepping. He has done really well so far. His teacher is the same as last year and she's, well, she's a saint. She is an incredible communicator and she has spent so much time researching David's issues and trying to find ways to help him adapt and overcome. She's awesome. And it's super awesome that David knows exactly what is expected of him in her classroom. Since last school year, Davids math skills have improved tremendously. He can add and subtract up to sums of 30 and is working on reading. He's super smart. Sometimes too smart. But nonetheless, he loves school. And that's a blessing. He, too, is EXHAUSTED by the end of the day. Most school nights he's falling asleep at dinner because the rhythm of his chewing is lulling him to sleep. It's kind of funny to watch. But we never ever laugh. Ever. Never. Hopefully, his mind and body will adjust soon........or maybe they'll just give us a homework pass because our child literally cannot stay awake to do it.
And Zella. When I left my super comfy desk job in May of last year, one of the sacrifices that we made for me to be a stay at home mom was Zella's "school". Cole was always more of a homebody. He wanted to be home with Mom and play by himself and organize his Matchbox cars by size and color for 13 hours straight. Zella is the polar opposite. She craves social interaction. She wants to talk. All the hours of all the days. Talk. She desperately missed school and engaging. And yes we did play dates and yes we saw other kids and yes she plays with her brothers when she isn't pestering them but it broke my heart every time we drove by her "school" and she would say "everyone wave to my school!!!! Mommy, I really miss my friends." SO......we made a way. Zella started back to 2 day a week pre-K the same week that the boys started school. When we were fundraising for our adoption, I started painting signs to raise money. And that kind of evolved into people ordering things from me. And that evolved into Carolina Girl Creations (check out our FB page!). Which has now blessed us enough that either Zella HAD to go to school two days a week, or I HAD to stop taking orders. Funny how when God gave us a new son, He gave us a new business to compensate for our lost income, too! He's pretty awesome how He works like that :). BUT, Zella is LOVING being back in school. 2 days a week is perfect for her and so far her proudest achievement is eating all of her lunch (if you have ever eaten a meal with Zella......this is a big deal). She tells everyone in the house "check my lunchbox! I ate it ALL!" Maybe next we can work on anything NOT related to food? She is mine though, so maybe not.
THE BEACH
Every summer, parts of our family descend on Myrtle Beach like Marines on the beaches of Normandy. And it's awesome fun. Last year we couldn't go because we were half way across the world in Ukraine. But this year, we went. And I was a nervous wreck because well, our family isn't quite the same as it was for previous trips and I can't even lie, I had no idea how things would be handled. It was a short trip. We drove up on a Saturday morning and came home on Monday afternoon. But it was a good trip. It was not without hiccups. But considering some of our current issues, the 2 out of 3 awesome days that we got, were just that. They were awesome. And I hated to leave. Because I miss my sister. More than anything I miss my sister. No matter where we are, she feels like home to me. And things have been stressful and my heart has been torn and well it's just been a hard year, and just being in the same house with her, it felt like home. A much needed 3 days of home. The kids played in the sand, and played more in the sand. I'm pretty sure that Triston buried every cousin in a hole that was half way to China. We ate and ate and ate. The kids played in the rain. We all got a little burnt. We had sand in our cracks and sand in our drinks and we didn't care a bit. We laughed. And laughed. And disciplined. And laughed. I looked out over the sand on our first day there and there were 9 kids. 9 of them. All completely different from the one playing/running/eating next to them. On the beach there were 5 moms. All of us completely unique to the children we were given. All of us with a different struggle and different triumphs. This last year has been hard because I let myself feel judged in my parenting of a child that has never been parented before. And I was reminded that day on the beach that there is no room for any of that with moms. We're all barely keeping our heads above the waves. Give that lady marching down the beach, yelling at her husband because her kids are sucking the life out of her, a break. She's no different than the one handing out umbrella shaped homemade pimento cheese sandwiches to her 3 kids in matching embroidered swimsuits. We're all the same. And just for a small taste of how different we all are........here's my favorite story of our little getaway. Because if you know our kids, you have a full visual as you read. So the surf was SUPER rough the first day on the beach (which was day 2 because it rained on day 1). The undertow was insane and we were really really cautious with the kids and their longing desire to be professional boogie boarders. (That, and I could hear Granny crying on the phone to me before we left about how much the water scares her and don't let any of her babies die). So the kids didn't spent too much time in the waves on day 2. On day 3 it was a little calmer so we let them loose and off they went. Well on Day 2, Colton had gotten stung by a jellyfish. No big deal. He's the biggest and toughest of the crew and we rubbed some mud on it and went on our way. In the back of my mind though, I knew how potentially bad this could be. We were getting ready to pack up on day 3 and start our drive home. Cole, Colton, Aubrey and Peyton were on their boogie boards (Triston.....still digging to China). And we hear Colton come up......he got stung again. And then Peyton, dragging his leg. And then Jake. And then Aubrey, limping and whimpering. And all I could think was "dear Jesus, not Cole. We will have to amputate". As the thought ran through my head,
I look down the beach and see a woman jumping out of her beach chair and running down to the waterline to what looks like a heap of convulsing skin. Cole Harrison. I ran down to get him.....more because I needed to claim my mom of the year award than anything.....thanked the nice lady that attended to my sobbing child that didn't pay attention to the current that had dragged him down the beach, and started coaching Cole through what is sure to go down in his memory bank as "the reason I will never ever ever go in the ocean ever again". Again, 4 other people, all fine. Cole, dying. There was a guy sitting next to us that had a bottle of vinegar in his bag (is that the ONLY thing I didn't bring?!!!) so Jake poured it on all the kids and off they went. Guess who talked about his vicious jellyfish sting and how vinegar smells really bad the whole 3.5 hours home? I love my Cole Harrison. Bless his heart. It was a good trip. Next year, we're staying the whole week. Let's book it.
SPIRIT FINGERS
This is the most honest part of this post. Because you know I just know I can't be the only one. But here goes. I have really really REAAAAALLLLLLYYYY (in Ace Ventura voice) been struggling in church lately. For real. I think back to the me that was in the same church a year ago and I was arms raised, sobbing, touched by the Holy Spirit during worship and Amening through every sermon and I felt like God had put the words in the pastors mouth just to deliver them specifically to me. And in the last several months, I'm just not that girl. And it's driving me CRAZY. We go to a spirit filled, Pentecostal church. This is the church that when my Southern Baptist Granny first found out we were going there she said (please insert country grandma voice), "that's the place where they throw snakes on the floor". First of all, no we don't. Second of all, for the first 3.5 years there, I was so lost in worship that if there had been snakes I wouldn't have noticed. We're a hand raising, tambourine playing church. There's people dancing and rejoicing and "THANKYA JESUS!" during worship. And I notice because growing up, in the Baptist and Presbyterian church, this was how it sounded to me......open your mouth and make a deep, monotone "uuuuuuhhhhhhhhh" sound. Now very slightly manipulate your mouth with that same tone and sing "Praise God from Whom all blessings flow. Praise Him, all creatures here below......". That's how it sounded to me. Dead. And in the last few months.....that's what I'm hearing again. I was sitting in church today and there was a person over my right shoulder that wouldn't stop clicking their pen.....click click click click.......the entire sermon. Over my left shoulder was a baby and a toddler (mind you, I have 3 kids sitting with me.....kids should NOT bother me) and all I could hear was the mom doing the gritted teeth whisper "STOP IT RIGHT NOW". There were people up and down and in and out and a cell phone ringing and kids crying all over the place and GAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! And this is every Sunday. And here's the thing, it's not the church. It's me. That burns a little. And here's where the spirit fingers happen.....
The associate pastor at our church is a BIG dude. He's probably 6'5" and about 280 (REAL sorry if those numbers are off. oops.). He's one of those people that makes you feel imposed upon in an elevator. Until he talks. I always joke when he takes a mic that I feel like I need to do a high kick and throw up spirit fingers. He is literally overflowing with enthusiasm. He talks like he's got a megaphone attached to his mouth and it's not because he's just loud it's because he's really that excited about life. He makes me tired just to watch him preach. And that's awesome. He was on stage today and he came running up there and grabbed the mic and called for an encore from the band and he was singing his heart out and meaning every word up there for the whole world to see. And I know this guy. I know some of what his family is walking through and has walked through in the last few years. And it's A LOT. He and his wife were going through their second adoption process and he was talking to us one night and was like "YEAH! WE STILL NEED TO RAISE ABOUT $20,000 BUT WE AREN'T WORRIED ABOUT IT CAUSE GOD IS GOOD, ALRIGHT!" That's all in caps because that's how he said. Expectantly. Enthusiastically. Without unloading the burden on me......because he had unloaded it on God. And I was watching him today, up there in his Clemson orange shirt (bless his heart) and I was like "that. THAT is worship. I WANT THAT." You know we all go to different churches. We pick and choose based on Biblical teaching and musical style and whether or not a preacher delivers the sermon the way we like. But when it says in Psalm 16:11 "You make known to me the path of life. In YOUR presence there is fullness of joy; at Your right hand there are pleasures forevermore." Fullness of joy. THAT is worship. And in Matthew 5:16 when it says "In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven." THAT is worship. The let the light shine. To stop worrying about "the worship experience" and the hand raising and all of the things that we as Christians think have to go on the light shining checklist, and literally be overflowing with the fullness of joy that comes with the presence of God. THAT is worship. To me at least. And that's where I think I've died a little. Maybe where we've all died a little. That we get so wrapped up in the preaching style and the music style that we forget that we are designed to worship God, not to be entertained by Him.......regardless of whether or not we feel our church needs are met. Does everyone need to be in a church that feeds them? YES. But sometimes, the biggest problem under the steeple, is the hearts inside of all the people. Worship isn't just music. It's everything we have to give back to God. Everything. Let me clean these toilets today as a form of worship. Let me discipline my kids Biblically as a form of worship. Let me be a better person than who I was yesterday out of gratitude and worship for the ONE who loves me even if I fail in my attempt to do that today. Let me be so full of God's love that everyone around me feels like they need to throw up spirit fingers when I talk. THAT is worship. Am I saying that I won't still hear the man clicking his pen next week? No. I will definitely still hear that (for the love, man, stop with the pen). And this will take me some time. I'm cynical by nature. I'm not a pom pom girl. But my prayer is that as I learn to worship God on my own, in my own time and in my own way, that I won't be so codependent on Sunday mornings, so if I get distracted, I won't feel completely drained when I leave. My prayer is that I learn to worship enough on my own, that church becomes a supplement to the base, and no longer the base to a very neglected supplement.
Here's to your extra day off of school this week (packing lunches is the devil), a few more days spent at the beach ( I love SC weather) and spirit fingers and megaphones and poms poms for everyone.
SCHOOL
Tuesday will start our 3rd week of school. So far, we haven't been asked to remove any children from school. This is an achievement for the Kubnick crew. Last year we had one stand on the lunch room table and refuse to get down.....that was the week after a teacher had to barricade the door to the classroom with her body to keep the same child from escaping (while he was giggling). I'm not kidding. But in all honesty, both Cole and David have loved the first two weeks of school.
Cole is getting to do a lot of Engineering this year in 3rd grade.......which he LOVES and insists that that love was facilitated by watching "How It's Made" on the Discovery Channel (yawn). He's in a smaller class this year (which mama LOVES) and his teacher is, just like every year since Kindergarten, super cute and young and fun. And not saying that he's checking her out, but it doesn't hurt the education process. He's making friends and learning and the best part? He's sleeping at night. Praise Jesus. Sleep and Cole Harrison are like oil and water. Exercising his body isn't enough to get him more than 5 hours in a night, but exercising his mind and the kid is out like a puppy. It's awesome.
David is in Kindergarten. Again. And he is real quick to tell alllllllllllll the other kids in his class that he's already "taken this class". His teacher said he very much realizes that he's a step ahead. And I'm okay with that. Let him be a step ahead. As long as those steps keep stepping. He has done really well so far. His teacher is the same as last year and she's, well, she's a saint. She is an incredible communicator and she has spent so much time researching David's issues and trying to find ways to help him adapt and overcome. She's awesome. And it's super awesome that David knows exactly what is expected of him in her classroom. Since last school year, Davids math skills have improved tremendously. He can add and subtract up to sums of 30 and is working on reading. He's super smart. Sometimes too smart. But nonetheless, he loves school. And that's a blessing. He, too, is EXHAUSTED by the end of the day. Most school nights he's falling asleep at dinner because the rhythm of his chewing is lulling him to sleep. It's kind of funny to watch. But we never ever laugh. Ever. Never. Hopefully, his mind and body will adjust soon........or maybe they'll just give us a homework pass because our child literally cannot stay awake to do it.
And Zella. When I left my super comfy desk job in May of last year, one of the sacrifices that we made for me to be a stay at home mom was Zella's "school". Cole was always more of a homebody. He wanted to be home with Mom and play by himself and organize his Matchbox cars by size and color for 13 hours straight. Zella is the polar opposite. She craves social interaction. She wants to talk. All the hours of all the days. Talk. She desperately missed school and engaging. And yes we did play dates and yes we saw other kids and yes she plays with her brothers when she isn't pestering them but it broke my heart every time we drove by her "school" and she would say "everyone wave to my school!!!! Mommy, I really miss my friends." SO......we made a way. Zella started back to 2 day a week pre-K the same week that the boys started school. When we were fundraising for our adoption, I started painting signs to raise money. And that kind of evolved into people ordering things from me. And that evolved into Carolina Girl Creations (check out our FB page!). Which has now blessed us enough that either Zella HAD to go to school two days a week, or I HAD to stop taking orders. Funny how when God gave us a new son, He gave us a new business to compensate for our lost income, too! He's pretty awesome how He works like that :). BUT, Zella is LOVING being back in school. 2 days a week is perfect for her and so far her proudest achievement is eating all of her lunch (if you have ever eaten a meal with Zella......this is a big deal). She tells everyone in the house "check my lunchbox! I ate it ALL!" Maybe next we can work on anything NOT related to food? She is mine though, so maybe not.
THE BEACH
Every summer, parts of our family descend on Myrtle Beach like Marines on the beaches of Normandy. And it's awesome fun. Last year we couldn't go because we were half way across the world in Ukraine. But this year, we went. And I was a nervous wreck because well, our family isn't quite the same as it was for previous trips and I can't even lie, I had no idea how things would be handled. It was a short trip. We drove up on a Saturday morning and came home on Monday afternoon. But it was a good trip. It was not without hiccups. But considering some of our current issues, the 2 out of 3 awesome days that we got, were just that. They were awesome. And I hated to leave. Because I miss my sister. More than anything I miss my sister. No matter where we are, she feels like home to me. And things have been stressful and my heart has been torn and well it's just been a hard year, and just being in the same house with her, it felt like home. A much needed 3 days of home. The kids played in the sand, and played more in the sand. I'm pretty sure that Triston buried every cousin in a hole that was half way to China. We ate and ate and ate. The kids played in the rain. We all got a little burnt. We had sand in our cracks and sand in our drinks and we didn't care a bit. We laughed. And laughed. And disciplined. And laughed. I looked out over the sand on our first day there and there were 9 kids. 9 of them. All completely different from the one playing/running/eating next to them. On the beach there were 5 moms. All of us completely unique to the children we were given. All of us with a different struggle and different triumphs. This last year has been hard because I let myself feel judged in my parenting of a child that has never been parented before. And I was reminded that day on the beach that there is no room for any of that with moms. We're all barely keeping our heads above the waves. Give that lady marching down the beach, yelling at her husband because her kids are sucking the life out of her, a break. She's no different than the one handing out umbrella shaped homemade pimento cheese sandwiches to her 3 kids in matching embroidered swimsuits. We're all the same. And just for a small taste of how different we all are........here's my favorite story of our little getaway. Because if you know our kids, you have a full visual as you read. So the surf was SUPER rough the first day on the beach (which was day 2 because it rained on day 1). The undertow was insane and we were really really cautious with the kids and their longing desire to be professional boogie boarders. (That, and I could hear Granny crying on the phone to me before we left about how much the water scares her and don't let any of her babies die). So the kids didn't spent too much time in the waves on day 2. On day 3 it was a little calmer so we let them loose and off they went. Well on Day 2, Colton had gotten stung by a jellyfish. No big deal. He's the biggest and toughest of the crew and we rubbed some mud on it and went on our way. In the back of my mind though, I knew how potentially bad this could be. We were getting ready to pack up on day 3 and start our drive home. Cole, Colton, Aubrey and Peyton were on their boogie boards (Triston.....still digging to China). And we hear Colton come up......he got stung again. And then Peyton, dragging his leg. And then Jake. And then Aubrey, limping and whimpering. And all I could think was "dear Jesus, not Cole. We will have to amputate". As the thought ran through my head,
I look down the beach and see a woman jumping out of her beach chair and running down to the waterline to what looks like a heap of convulsing skin. Cole Harrison. I ran down to get him.....more because I needed to claim my mom of the year award than anything.....thanked the nice lady that attended to my sobbing child that didn't pay attention to the current that had dragged him down the beach, and started coaching Cole through what is sure to go down in his memory bank as "the reason I will never ever ever go in the ocean ever again". Again, 4 other people, all fine. Cole, dying. There was a guy sitting next to us that had a bottle of vinegar in his bag (is that the ONLY thing I didn't bring?!!!) so Jake poured it on all the kids and off they went. Guess who talked about his vicious jellyfish sting and how vinegar smells really bad the whole 3.5 hours home? I love my Cole Harrison. Bless his heart. It was a good trip. Next year, we're staying the whole week. Let's book it.
SPIRIT FINGERS
This is the most honest part of this post. Because you know I just know I can't be the only one. But here goes. I have really really REAAAAALLLLLLYYYY (in Ace Ventura voice) been struggling in church lately. For real. I think back to the me that was in the same church a year ago and I was arms raised, sobbing, touched by the Holy Spirit during worship and Amening through every sermon and I felt like God had put the words in the pastors mouth just to deliver them specifically to me. And in the last several months, I'm just not that girl. And it's driving me CRAZY. We go to a spirit filled, Pentecostal church. This is the church that when my Southern Baptist Granny first found out we were going there she said (please insert country grandma voice), "that's the place where they throw snakes on the floor". First of all, no we don't. Second of all, for the first 3.5 years there, I was so lost in worship that if there had been snakes I wouldn't have noticed. We're a hand raising, tambourine playing church. There's people dancing and rejoicing and "THANKYA JESUS!" during worship. And I notice because growing up, in the Baptist and Presbyterian church, this was how it sounded to me......open your mouth and make a deep, monotone "uuuuuuhhhhhhhhh" sound. Now very slightly manipulate your mouth with that same tone and sing "Praise God from Whom all blessings flow. Praise Him, all creatures here below......". That's how it sounded to me. Dead. And in the last few months.....that's what I'm hearing again. I was sitting in church today and there was a person over my right shoulder that wouldn't stop clicking their pen.....click click click click.......the entire sermon. Over my left shoulder was a baby and a toddler (mind you, I have 3 kids sitting with me.....kids should NOT bother me) and all I could hear was the mom doing the gritted teeth whisper "STOP IT RIGHT NOW". There were people up and down and in and out and a cell phone ringing and kids crying all over the place and GAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! And this is every Sunday. And here's the thing, it's not the church. It's me. That burns a little. And here's where the spirit fingers happen.....
The associate pastor at our church is a BIG dude. He's probably 6'5" and about 280 (REAL sorry if those numbers are off. oops.). He's one of those people that makes you feel imposed upon in an elevator. Until he talks. I always joke when he takes a mic that I feel like I need to do a high kick and throw up spirit fingers. He is literally overflowing with enthusiasm. He talks like he's got a megaphone attached to his mouth and it's not because he's just loud it's because he's really that excited about life. He makes me tired just to watch him preach. And that's awesome. He was on stage today and he came running up there and grabbed the mic and called for an encore from the band and he was singing his heart out and meaning every word up there for the whole world to see. And I know this guy. I know some of what his family is walking through and has walked through in the last few years. And it's A LOT. He and his wife were going through their second adoption process and he was talking to us one night and was like "YEAH! WE STILL NEED TO RAISE ABOUT $20,000 BUT WE AREN'T WORRIED ABOUT IT CAUSE GOD IS GOOD, ALRIGHT!" That's all in caps because that's how he said. Expectantly. Enthusiastically. Without unloading the burden on me......because he had unloaded it on God. And I was watching him today, up there in his Clemson orange shirt (bless his heart) and I was like "that. THAT is worship. I WANT THAT." You know we all go to different churches. We pick and choose based on Biblical teaching and musical style and whether or not a preacher delivers the sermon the way we like. But when it says in Psalm 16:11 "You make known to me the path of life. In YOUR presence there is fullness of joy; at Your right hand there are pleasures forevermore." Fullness of joy. THAT is worship. And in Matthew 5:16 when it says "In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven." THAT is worship. The let the light shine. To stop worrying about "the worship experience" and the hand raising and all of the things that we as Christians think have to go on the light shining checklist, and literally be overflowing with the fullness of joy that comes with the presence of God. THAT is worship. To me at least. And that's where I think I've died a little. Maybe where we've all died a little. That we get so wrapped up in the preaching style and the music style that we forget that we are designed to worship God, not to be entertained by Him.......regardless of whether or not we feel our church needs are met. Does everyone need to be in a church that feeds them? YES. But sometimes, the biggest problem under the steeple, is the hearts inside of all the people. Worship isn't just music. It's everything we have to give back to God. Everything. Let me clean these toilets today as a form of worship. Let me discipline my kids Biblically as a form of worship. Let me be a better person than who I was yesterday out of gratitude and worship for the ONE who loves me even if I fail in my attempt to do that today. Let me be so full of God's love that everyone around me feels like they need to throw up spirit fingers when I talk. THAT is worship. Am I saying that I won't still hear the man clicking his pen next week? No. I will definitely still hear that (for the love, man, stop with the pen). And this will take me some time. I'm cynical by nature. I'm not a pom pom girl. But my prayer is that as I learn to worship God on my own, in my own time and in my own way, that I won't be so codependent on Sunday mornings, so if I get distracted, I won't feel completely drained when I leave. My prayer is that I learn to worship enough on my own, that church becomes a supplement to the base, and no longer the base to a very neglected supplement.
Here's to your extra day off of school this week (packing lunches is the devil), a few more days spent at the beach ( I love SC weather) and spirit fingers and megaphones and poms poms for everyone.
Friday, August 22, 2014
My ALS Challenge
I got challenged, not once, but twice in 2 days to take the ALS ice bucket challenge. And, just like all of you, my newsfeed has been clogged with challenges being accepted AND articles disputing the actual "help" in the challenge for the last 10 days or so. I've read the articles. And I've watched the challenges. There are always skeptics. And there are absolutely some of you out there that have futures in film. I have been completely entertained! And from the first one that I saw, I knew my day was coming. I've had so many thoughts about this challenge......they start somewhere around here.
Good for you, America! That we've all taken the challenge to raise a ruckus and to raise awareness and let's just be honest, to make cute videos to show to all of our Facebook friends and family AND to prove that we won't back down from a challenge. Isn't this the easy way, though? To dump a bucket of ice....AND then slink away. Will any of us really invest ourselves in ALS research? Will any of us, that haven't been directly effected by this disease, will any of us remember this challenge outside of the Facebook video? In spite of me knowing the answer to these questions, I was totally going to "man up" and dump a bucket of ice water on myself and then I read this blog.....
http://www.bostern.com/blog/2014/08/15/what-an-als-family-really-thinks-about-the-ice-bucket-challenge/
The author says about ALS, "We are in for the fight of our lives with this monster, and the very LAST thing I want is for people to give quietly, anonymously, and then slink away. Raise the roof! Raise a ruckus!". I read that line over and over again. And it was like she was talking about my life.
I think about all of the "monsters" that people face. Things completely out of anyones control. Diseases like ALS and Alzheimers and cancer. They take a slow painful toll on all parties involved and at the fault of no one. But everyone suffers. And then I think about the little boy sleeping upstairs in my house. And I think about the monster that we face every day. And I think about how HE didn't have a choice, but someone did. And he is suffering, because of someone else. And then I think about the kids all over the world....red, yellow, black and white.....that are suffering at the hands of someone else. And the monsters they face both physically, mentally and figuratively, in their present and in their future if the opportunity for healing ever presents itself. And then I thought about the people in our very own country that fight monsters every single day, by choice. These men and women signed up. They enlisted themselves to protect our honor and freedom. And they found themselves wounded, suffering and struggling. By choice. For us. Don't these people, these children, don't they deserve a ruckus? Doesn't everyone suffering deserve a ruckus much greater than an ice bucket challenge?
I believe in this challenge. I believe that as Americans we have change at our fingertips but are too lazy to tap into it. We lack passion on so many fronts. We lack commitment to causes that have nothing to offer back to us. We lack the drive to go past the ice bucket. I took this challenge, and chose to donate my money to the following charities:
http://capabeaufort.org/about-capa/mission/
http://www.nami.org/
http://www.woundedwarriorregiment.org/
These are efforts close to my heart. These are issues that have directly effected my family. These are the platforms that I will stand for in 5 years when the buckets have been packed away.
My challenge to you is to do your research. My challenge to you is to tap into what hits closest to your "home". AND RAISE A RUCKUS!!!! Advocate. Fundraise. There are people living all around you, fighting different fights. Everyone needs someone that cares. I challenge you to be more than just a Facebook video.
Good for you, America! That we've all taken the challenge to raise a ruckus and to raise awareness and let's just be honest, to make cute videos to show to all of our Facebook friends and family AND to prove that we won't back down from a challenge. Isn't this the easy way, though? To dump a bucket of ice....AND then slink away. Will any of us really invest ourselves in ALS research? Will any of us, that haven't been directly effected by this disease, will any of us remember this challenge outside of the Facebook video? In spite of me knowing the answer to these questions, I was totally going to "man up" and dump a bucket of ice water on myself and then I read this blog.....
http://www.bostern.com/blog/2014/08/15/what-an-als-family-really-thinks-about-the-ice-bucket-challenge/
The author says about ALS, "We are in for the fight of our lives with this monster, and the very LAST thing I want is for people to give quietly, anonymously, and then slink away. Raise the roof! Raise a ruckus!". I read that line over and over again. And it was like she was talking about my life.
I think about all of the "monsters" that people face. Things completely out of anyones control. Diseases like ALS and Alzheimers and cancer. They take a slow painful toll on all parties involved and at the fault of no one. But everyone suffers. And then I think about the little boy sleeping upstairs in my house. And I think about the monster that we face every day. And I think about how HE didn't have a choice, but someone did. And he is suffering, because of someone else. And then I think about the kids all over the world....red, yellow, black and white.....that are suffering at the hands of someone else. And the monsters they face both physically, mentally and figuratively, in their present and in their future if the opportunity for healing ever presents itself. And then I thought about the people in our very own country that fight monsters every single day, by choice. These men and women signed up. They enlisted themselves to protect our honor and freedom. And they found themselves wounded, suffering and struggling. By choice. For us. Don't these people, these children, don't they deserve a ruckus? Doesn't everyone suffering deserve a ruckus much greater than an ice bucket challenge?
I believe in this challenge. I believe that as Americans we have change at our fingertips but are too lazy to tap into it. We lack passion on so many fronts. We lack commitment to causes that have nothing to offer back to us. We lack the drive to go past the ice bucket. I took this challenge, and chose to donate my money to the following charities:
http://capabeaufort.org/about-capa/mission/
http://www.nami.org/
http://www.woundedwarriorregiment.org/
These are efforts close to my heart. These are issues that have directly effected my family. These are the platforms that I will stand for in 5 years when the buckets have been packed away.
My challenge to you is to do your research. My challenge to you is to tap into what hits closest to your "home". AND RAISE A RUCKUS!!!! Advocate. Fundraise. There are people living all around you, fighting different fights. Everyone needs someone that cares. I challenge you to be more than just a Facebook video.
Monday, August 11, 2014
May and Me
A few years ago, I read a book titled "The Secret Life of Bees" (if you haven't read it.....READ IT). I won't bore you by rewriting the Spark notes but there was a character in the book named "May". May had a twin sister, April, when she was younger. April was very depressed and committed suicide at a young age. And May was left to live that pain every day. She was extremely sensitive to any kind of hurt. She would read a newspaper article about something tragic or hear a sad story and she would retreat to her "wailing wall" to mourn as deeply as the families directly effected by the tragedy. She felt very real pain. Very very deeply. And it was her curse. Her burden. Her daily battle.
I remember sobbing my way through parts of this book. The storyline itself is tragic but I wasn't sobbing about the main character.....I was sobbing because I felt like May was writing my story. I didn't have a twin sister that committed suicide. I don't have a personally built "wailing wall" out back that I retreat to when my heart is heavy with hurt (though I do have a bathroom that serves quite handy for this matter). But when I let myself hurt, it hurts deep. And it is my curse. My burden. My daily battle.
As I've gotten older, I have developed self coping mechanisms and have learned to increase the inhibitors and decrease the triggers. I've learned to breathe deep- A LOT (this may also sound like sighing. Sometimes it is. I'm Southern. Can't help it.). I go to the gym. Do I want to be skinny? Ummmm...YEP! But more than anything, I want a natural release of serotonin. Do I really, really, lick my lips enjoy several glasses of wine on occasion......Fo' sho!!!! BUT.....even one glass makes me weepy and let's just be honest, NOBODY wants to open the Hoover dam in exchange for 1 glass of wine. So I most often, opt out. I don't watch movies or tv shows that will stick with me anymore. I can't put anything into my mind that doesn't filter to my heart. So, no "Chain Saw Massacre", "300", "Hatfields and McCoys" even a few scenes in the Bible series of people getting beaten and throats slashed......I can't function for days after watching something like that. (FYI.....people that think they CAN watch something and it mean NOTHING because it's "just a show"......you're all lying to yourselves.) I rarely watch the news. We can't deny that we live in an awful, sick, horrible world. If the stories aren't about horrible sins committed against children or the elderly or husbands and wives, then the stories are about the war torn countries throughout the world that are suffering at the hands of their rulers (there is 1 in particular that I feel certain is the anti-Christ). Childhood cancer and orphans and babies being killed by the millions in clinics. People hating people. In the name of hate. And it's too much for me. It's too much for someone that fights every day for joy.
Depression. I was 14 years old the first time a doctor said that word to me. I was humiliated and ashamed and wanted to hide it from the world. I made a lot of mistakes growing up with depression. I didn't do a lot of the things that I do now as means of helping myself. Am I saying that the precautions I take now have eliminated my depression? Nope. I'm saying that depression is very very real and that it's a choice I make every single day.......... To get up. To put my feet on the floor. To participate in life. To recognize when I need an emotion check. To not allow my feelings to be the rulers of my universe. To not always say I'm ok, if I'm not really okay. To talk to someone. To turn on praise and worship music. To open my Bible. To open my eyes. To breathe it in. To ask God to relieve my burden. To hide in the bathroom and cry it out. To hold my kids and let them see that I'm weak sometimes too. To look around and see that God is answering my prayers for relief, but I have to accept the help before it can actually be helpful.
So now in these last few months, my heart is so heavy. No matter how much I hide from it, I'm reading stories and seeing pictures of Christians and CHILDREN being persecuted/executed because they love God. Hundreds of girls kidnapped from their school and sold into "marriage". Entire families being executed in their homes. Wives losing their husbands, Husbands losing their wives. Children dying from cancer. Orphanages being bombed. Vehicles full of children trying to flee the bombing being shot at. Mass human graves being found. Civilian planes being shot down. How is this possible? And it's becoming unbearable. The weight. The knowledge. The inability to hide. The feeling in my stomach that tells me "you are not immune". And we aren't. We aren't immune to tragedy. Every night when I kiss my kids goodnight I kiss, and then peak, and then peak real quick again. Most nights I touch them to make sure their chests are still moving up and down. Because we are not immune. Every time Jake gets behind the wheel. Every time I leave the house with a van full of kids. Every time we go to a movie or for a routine doctors visit. Not fear. Not waiting. But knowledge. Knowledge that this life is just a vapor. Knowledge of the speed at which this life could shift from reading about tragedy, to living tragedy.
And today I read about Robin Williams committing suicide. And it reminds me all over again that this thing that so many of us fight every day is a demon. It is a relentless demon. It shows no mercy. It is both a figurative and literal darkness. I am reminded that sometimes, even people that are a light to so many, fail to see the light themselves. I used to be one of those people. Smiling on the outside. Dying on the inside. Without hope. Just like May.
Here is the difference between me and May. May would have read about Robin Williams today, she would have taken the newspaper article down to her wailing wall and stapled it there. She would have cried over him for days. Hurting. Weeping. She would have taken the photos of the children beheaded by ISIS down to the wall, and she would have walked into the river, never to walk out again, unable to bear the weight of the pain those parents must feel. The difference between me and May is hope. Hope of what is to come. Hope, as an anchor.
Revelation 21 New International Version (NIV)
6 He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life. 7 Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children. 8 But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars—they will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death.”
And I have this hope, because I am redeemed. (2 Corinthians 5:17-18) Thank God, redeemed. I am victorious. Chosen. Adopted. (Ephesians 1:4-6).
My heart breaks daily for so many people. For their hurt. For their loneliness. But I can't fix it. Only the One can. And He hears the prayers of the brokenhearted. He makes a way, as a light in the darkness.
Praying for Christians being persecuted throughout the world tonight. And for so many that don't know what hope means.
I remember sobbing my way through parts of this book. The storyline itself is tragic but I wasn't sobbing about the main character.....I was sobbing because I felt like May was writing my story. I didn't have a twin sister that committed suicide. I don't have a personally built "wailing wall" out back that I retreat to when my heart is heavy with hurt (though I do have a bathroom that serves quite handy for this matter). But when I let myself hurt, it hurts deep. And it is my curse. My burden. My daily battle.
As I've gotten older, I have developed self coping mechanisms and have learned to increase the inhibitors and decrease the triggers. I've learned to breathe deep- A LOT (this may also sound like sighing. Sometimes it is. I'm Southern. Can't help it.). I go to the gym. Do I want to be skinny? Ummmm...YEP! But more than anything, I want a natural release of serotonin. Do I really, really, lick my lips enjoy several glasses of wine on occasion......Fo' sho!!!! BUT.....even one glass makes me weepy and let's just be honest, NOBODY wants to open the Hoover dam in exchange for 1 glass of wine. So I most often, opt out. I don't watch movies or tv shows that will stick with me anymore. I can't put anything into my mind that doesn't filter to my heart. So, no "Chain Saw Massacre", "300", "Hatfields and McCoys" even a few scenes in the Bible series of people getting beaten and throats slashed......I can't function for days after watching something like that. (FYI.....people that think they CAN watch something and it mean NOTHING because it's "just a show"......you're all lying to yourselves.) I rarely watch the news. We can't deny that we live in an awful, sick, horrible world. If the stories aren't about horrible sins committed against children or the elderly or husbands and wives, then the stories are about the war torn countries throughout the world that are suffering at the hands of their rulers (there is 1 in particular that I feel certain is the anti-Christ). Childhood cancer and orphans and babies being killed by the millions in clinics. People hating people. In the name of hate. And it's too much for me. It's too much for someone that fights every day for joy.
Depression. I was 14 years old the first time a doctor said that word to me. I was humiliated and ashamed and wanted to hide it from the world. I made a lot of mistakes growing up with depression. I didn't do a lot of the things that I do now as means of helping myself. Am I saying that the precautions I take now have eliminated my depression? Nope. I'm saying that depression is very very real and that it's a choice I make every single day.......... To get up. To put my feet on the floor. To participate in life. To recognize when I need an emotion check. To not allow my feelings to be the rulers of my universe. To not always say I'm ok, if I'm not really okay. To talk to someone. To turn on praise and worship music. To open my Bible. To open my eyes. To breathe it in. To ask God to relieve my burden. To hide in the bathroom and cry it out. To hold my kids and let them see that I'm weak sometimes too. To look around and see that God is answering my prayers for relief, but I have to accept the help before it can actually be helpful.
So now in these last few months, my heart is so heavy. No matter how much I hide from it, I'm reading stories and seeing pictures of Christians and CHILDREN being persecuted/executed because they love God. Hundreds of girls kidnapped from their school and sold into "marriage". Entire families being executed in their homes. Wives losing their husbands, Husbands losing their wives. Children dying from cancer. Orphanages being bombed. Vehicles full of children trying to flee the bombing being shot at. Mass human graves being found. Civilian planes being shot down. How is this possible? And it's becoming unbearable. The weight. The knowledge. The inability to hide. The feeling in my stomach that tells me "you are not immune". And we aren't. We aren't immune to tragedy. Every night when I kiss my kids goodnight I kiss, and then peak, and then peak real quick again. Most nights I touch them to make sure their chests are still moving up and down. Because we are not immune. Every time Jake gets behind the wheel. Every time I leave the house with a van full of kids. Every time we go to a movie or for a routine doctors visit. Not fear. Not waiting. But knowledge. Knowledge that this life is just a vapor. Knowledge of the speed at which this life could shift from reading about tragedy, to living tragedy.
And today I read about Robin Williams committing suicide. And it reminds me all over again that this thing that so many of us fight every day is a demon. It is a relentless demon. It shows no mercy. It is both a figurative and literal darkness. I am reminded that sometimes, even people that are a light to so many, fail to see the light themselves. I used to be one of those people. Smiling on the outside. Dying on the inside. Without hope. Just like May.
Here is the difference between me and May. May would have read about Robin Williams today, she would have taken the newspaper article down to her wailing wall and stapled it there. She would have cried over him for days. Hurting. Weeping. She would have taken the photos of the children beheaded by ISIS down to the wall, and she would have walked into the river, never to walk out again, unable to bear the weight of the pain those parents must feel. The difference between me and May is hope. Hope of what is to come. Hope, as an anchor.
Revelation 21 New International Version (NIV)
A New Heaven and a New Earth
21 Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,”[a] for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. 2 I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. 4 ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’[b] or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”
5 He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”6 He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life. 7 Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children. 8 But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars—they will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death.”
And I have this hope, because I am redeemed. (2 Corinthians 5:17-18) Thank God, redeemed. I am victorious. Chosen. Adopted. (Ephesians 1:4-6).
My heart breaks daily for so many people. For their hurt. For their loneliness. But I can't fix it. Only the One can. And He hears the prayers of the brokenhearted. He makes a way, as a light in the darkness.
Praying for Christians being persecuted throughout the world tonight. And for so many that don't know what hope means.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
A 1st birthday, 6 years in the making.......
I remember all of Cole and Zella's firsts. I have baby books filled with little lockets of hair and notes scribbled on paper and tossed in the books that say things like "today you smiled for the first time" with a date written next to it. Their birth stories are emblazoned in my mind. I will never forget the way I completely melted and gave my heart away when each of them was laid on my chest in the delivery room. Cole was a puker. He threw up on more occasions and for so many different reasons I can't even recall them all. But I was there, reaching my hands out to catch it in the car, washing sheets in the middle of the night, using q-tips to get it out of his nose. Zella didn't sleep for the first year of her life. And I was there. Pacing the living room floor in the middle of the night. I actually got evaluated for narcolepsy when she was about 6 months old.....because that's how little she slept. And each of those moments, those special, hard hard moments, are the ones that created our bond. Somehow, the sacrifice of being sleep deprived and puked on, didn't seem like a sacrifice at all. They needed me. And they loved needing me. And I never considered that I didn't share a lot of David's "firsts" with him. Because a lot of his "firsts" didn't happen until he joined our family and those are just as monumental. His first train ride, his first plane ride, his first comfy bed, first stuffed animal, first real family. But it's different. I said it. I got it out. It's different. About 4 months after David got home, it hit me, really really hard, that this is different. That this child will not require the same love that Cole and Zella will require. That sometimes, this sacrifice, will feel like sacrifice. That me not sharing the moment he entered the world with him or the first time he cried in pain or the first time he threw up or got hurt or needed food...me not being there for the same firsts that I shared with Cole and Zella.....it didn't hurt me. It hurt him. And hurt is deep. Children don't always have clear memories of exact circumstances, but they have memory of emotion. They remember fear. They remember loneliness. They remember pain. They remember distrust. They remember hopelessness. David remembers.
David's mothers' name was Angel. Around his second birthday, Angel loved him enough to send him to a hospital via ambulance. She never showed up to pick him up. The hospital records show that he stayed at the hospital for 7 months before he became property of Ukraine. He spent his next year in one orphanage. And the next year in a different orphanage. And one year ago today, on his 5th birthday, David became eligible for adoption in Ukraine. His file arrived at the adoption authority's office just 30 minutes before Jake and I arrived to blindly select our future child. We planned to bring two children home. And we were shown 7 files of siblings and had NO PEACE. The lady we were meeting with left the room and came back with an 8th file. I think Jake and I both started crying. That was our son. His name was written incorrectly on the paperwork so our translator originally told us his name was David. We had no intention of naming him that. We went to Ukraine with the idea of naming our son Isaac. But God knows. In 1 Samuel 16, Samuel was seeking a new king for Israel from the sons of Jesse. Samuel saw 7 of Jesse's sons but knew that none of them were chosen by God. Samuel asked Jesse if he had any other sons and Jesse sent for his youngest, his 8th son, David. When Samuel saw David the Lord spoke to Samuel "Rise and anoint him; this is the one". I didn't know the parallels until I started reading more about David. The more I started believing and trusting in God's plan for his life. One night Jake and David were reading from the Childrens picture Bible that we have. The story of David and Goliath reads like this "Goliath was a giant. He came to fight God's people.....But a boy named David was not afraid. GOD HAD BLESSED DAVID AND MADE HIM VERY BRAVE. David stood before the giant Goliath. He said, "I have come to fight you in the name of God." I was standing downstairs listening to Jake read and I started sobbing. God has blessed David, and God did make David very brave. And David is fighting a mighty mighty giant. Every day he fights his memory. He fights the first 5 years of his life. He fights the instinct to fight. He fights fear. He fights every single day, against an enemy that preys on the innocent. Matthew 13:19 tells us "When anyone hears the message about the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in their heart." Because David does not understand love, when we give it to him, the enemy comes and snatches it away from him. Because David does not understand what it means to be a family or what it means when we pray and thank God for him, the enemy snatches it from him like a thief in the night. And as his mother, my heart is broken. Because ALL I can do is take heart, and be strong and take heart and wait on the Lord. (Psalm 27:13-14) I KNOW that darkness will ALWAYS lose to light. But today, today I wanted it to hurry up. Today I wanted it to be different. Today is David's birthday.
The hardest day of our 10 months home for me, was the day that I realized that I can't spoil David the way my heart wants to. I know his story. I know all of the awful, nasty stuff in his history book. And it makes me want to spoil him even more. And I can't. Because he can't handle it. I think back to all of the kids 1st Christmases. All 3 of them. We went over the top and gave them just a ridiculous amount of gifts and expected them to perform and be happy and cheerful and then we threw a camera in the mix and made them wear scratchy, uncomfortable outfits and THEN, when they started crying, we were like "what's wrong?!". Why do we do this? Why do overwhelm our kids? I was talking to my Uncle yesterday about the big birthday today and I was reminding him of all the Christmases gone bad and he said "well when you give all those gifts, it's not really for the kids". Sigh. Truer words were never spoken. David can't handle excess. It makes him uncomfortable because it is completely foreign to him. At Christmas, he was literally shaking so hard that I had to hold him tight under my arm. And birthdays are all about excess. The excessive sugar and too many gifts and it's just a lot. So a few weeks ago, I got nervous. I didn't want to force this birthday thing on him and ruin the whole day. BUT, every single person in our entire house has had a birthday (even the dog) since he got home, so doesn't he expect the hoopla?! Turns out, no. He doesn't want the hoopla. He wants to belong. And us crazy, over the top, Americans, well sometimes we give gifts to make people feel special. But you know what's crazy? The idea of giving material things to people to make them feel special. That's crazy. I look at David today, 6 years old, and I know that the excess won't heal David's heart. I know that the presents and the cake and big party, that won't erase the fact that for the first 5 years of his life nobody celebrated him. Ever. On any occasion. We have family members right now that are mad at us because we asked them to just send David a card with a note in it and not big gifts and they're mad because well this is his first birthday and we're making up for lost time so it should be crazy over the top, right? No. It should be safe. It should make him feel secure in this new life. It should tell him that we love him......and should teach him that love is not measured by gifts and dessert. Even if that is really really hard for mom.
There are days when I just want him to live. Days when I want him to jump out of bed with a smile on his face and just LIVE. I want him to walk in confidence and faith and not in fear and defiance. I asked God so many months ago to start planting these emotions in me and you know what? God answered my prayers. And you know what else? It's so painful. It's so painful to watch him struggle with his past. It's so painful to want to mother him....when he's too afraid to admit that he needs a mother. But in that pain.....it means that God is working. It means that God has started to burn out the ugly. And maybe the start of that was with me. Maybe the start of His healing started with the heart of our home. Just maybe.
And maybe God has big plans for David's 7th birthday. I woke up this morning and looked at the Bible app on my phone and the verse today said "No eye has seen, no ear has heard and no human mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him", 1 Corinthians 2:9. I'm trusting in that. That His plans are greater than my dreams for David. That His plans trump a 6th birthday party. His plans epitomize excess. That's where my hope is.
So today, in our house, there was a Happy Birthday banner and there was a Happy Birthday song. There was a watermelon cake with a candle and a big dinner. And there was one gift....and a little boy that literally gasped when he opened it. And he smiled. A real smile. Today wasn't huge. It wasn't over the top. It was a 1st birthday, 6 years in the making, for David Benjamin Kubnick. And at the end of today, he smiled. And THAT says so much. That means we're doing it. On the days when I feel like we have NO idea what we're doing, we're still doing something. And he smiled.
Happy Birthday, David Benjamin Kubnick. "And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ." Philippians 1:6
**For those of you that are curious about kiddos that come from hard places, I encourage you to watch this clip and then read the letter. If you don't have time for both, read the letter. This was done by some parents of trauma kids. It's well done. And it says a lot about what we go through behind closed doors. https://www.attachmenttraumanetwork.com/mylife.html **
David's mothers' name was Angel. Around his second birthday, Angel loved him enough to send him to a hospital via ambulance. She never showed up to pick him up. The hospital records show that he stayed at the hospital for 7 months before he became property of Ukraine. He spent his next year in one orphanage. And the next year in a different orphanage. And one year ago today, on his 5th birthday, David became eligible for adoption in Ukraine. His file arrived at the adoption authority's office just 30 minutes before Jake and I arrived to blindly select our future child. We planned to bring two children home. And we were shown 7 files of siblings and had NO PEACE. The lady we were meeting with left the room and came back with an 8th file. I think Jake and I both started crying. That was our son. His name was written incorrectly on the paperwork so our translator originally told us his name was David. We had no intention of naming him that. We went to Ukraine with the idea of naming our son Isaac. But God knows. In 1 Samuel 16, Samuel was seeking a new king for Israel from the sons of Jesse. Samuel saw 7 of Jesse's sons but knew that none of them were chosen by God. Samuel asked Jesse if he had any other sons and Jesse sent for his youngest, his 8th son, David. When Samuel saw David the Lord spoke to Samuel "Rise and anoint him; this is the one". I didn't know the parallels until I started reading more about David. The more I started believing and trusting in God's plan for his life. One night Jake and David were reading from the Childrens picture Bible that we have. The story of David and Goliath reads like this "Goliath was a giant. He came to fight God's people.....But a boy named David was not afraid. GOD HAD BLESSED DAVID AND MADE HIM VERY BRAVE. David stood before the giant Goliath. He said, "I have come to fight you in the name of God." I was standing downstairs listening to Jake read and I started sobbing. God has blessed David, and God did make David very brave. And David is fighting a mighty mighty giant. Every day he fights his memory. He fights the first 5 years of his life. He fights the instinct to fight. He fights fear. He fights every single day, against an enemy that preys on the innocent. Matthew 13:19 tells us "When anyone hears the message about the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in their heart." Because David does not understand love, when we give it to him, the enemy comes and snatches it away from him. Because David does not understand what it means to be a family or what it means when we pray and thank God for him, the enemy snatches it from him like a thief in the night. And as his mother, my heart is broken. Because ALL I can do is take heart, and be strong and take heart and wait on the Lord. (Psalm 27:13-14) I KNOW that darkness will ALWAYS lose to light. But today, today I wanted it to hurry up. Today I wanted it to be different. Today is David's birthday.
The hardest day of our 10 months home for me, was the day that I realized that I can't spoil David the way my heart wants to. I know his story. I know all of the awful, nasty stuff in his history book. And it makes me want to spoil him even more. And I can't. Because he can't handle it. I think back to all of the kids 1st Christmases. All 3 of them. We went over the top and gave them just a ridiculous amount of gifts and expected them to perform and be happy and cheerful and then we threw a camera in the mix and made them wear scratchy, uncomfortable outfits and THEN, when they started crying, we were like "what's wrong?!". Why do we do this? Why do overwhelm our kids? I was talking to my Uncle yesterday about the big birthday today and I was reminding him of all the Christmases gone bad and he said "well when you give all those gifts, it's not really for the kids". Sigh. Truer words were never spoken. David can't handle excess. It makes him uncomfortable because it is completely foreign to him. At Christmas, he was literally shaking so hard that I had to hold him tight under my arm. And birthdays are all about excess. The excessive sugar and too many gifts and it's just a lot. So a few weeks ago, I got nervous. I didn't want to force this birthday thing on him and ruin the whole day. BUT, every single person in our entire house has had a birthday (even the dog) since he got home, so doesn't he expect the hoopla?! Turns out, no. He doesn't want the hoopla. He wants to belong. And us crazy, over the top, Americans, well sometimes we give gifts to make people feel special. But you know what's crazy? The idea of giving material things to people to make them feel special. That's crazy. I look at David today, 6 years old, and I know that the excess won't heal David's heart. I know that the presents and the cake and big party, that won't erase the fact that for the first 5 years of his life nobody celebrated him. Ever. On any occasion. We have family members right now that are mad at us because we asked them to just send David a card with a note in it and not big gifts and they're mad because well this is his first birthday and we're making up for lost time so it should be crazy over the top, right? No. It should be safe. It should make him feel secure in this new life. It should tell him that we love him......and should teach him that love is not measured by gifts and dessert. Even if that is really really hard for mom.
There are days when I just want him to live. Days when I want him to jump out of bed with a smile on his face and just LIVE. I want him to walk in confidence and faith and not in fear and defiance. I asked God so many months ago to start planting these emotions in me and you know what? God answered my prayers. And you know what else? It's so painful. It's so painful to watch him struggle with his past. It's so painful to want to mother him....when he's too afraid to admit that he needs a mother. But in that pain.....it means that God is working. It means that God has started to burn out the ugly. And maybe the start of that was with me. Maybe the start of His healing started with the heart of our home. Just maybe.
And maybe God has big plans for David's 7th birthday. I woke up this morning and looked at the Bible app on my phone and the verse today said "No eye has seen, no ear has heard and no human mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him", 1 Corinthians 2:9. I'm trusting in that. That His plans are greater than my dreams for David. That His plans trump a 6th birthday party. His plans epitomize excess. That's where my hope is.
So today, in our house, there was a Happy Birthday banner and there was a Happy Birthday song. There was a watermelon cake with a candle and a big dinner. And there was one gift....and a little boy that literally gasped when he opened it. And he smiled. A real smile. Today wasn't huge. It wasn't over the top. It was a 1st birthday, 6 years in the making, for David Benjamin Kubnick. And at the end of today, he smiled. And THAT says so much. That means we're doing it. On the days when I feel like we have NO idea what we're doing, we're still doing something. And he smiled.
Happy Birthday, David Benjamin Kubnick. "And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ." Philippians 1:6
**For those of you that are curious about kiddos that come from hard places, I encourage you to watch this clip and then read the letter. If you don't have time for both, read the letter. This was done by some parents of trauma kids. It's well done. And it says a lot about what we go through behind closed doors. https://www.attachmenttraumanetwork.com/mylife.html **
Sunday, July 13, 2014
The Big Move
Several months ago, Jake and I both posted on Facebook about our big move to Memphis, TN. Jake accepted a job with the FAA working at Memphis Center. On July 3, Jake graduated 3rd in his class from the FAA academy in Oklahoma City, OK and on July 4, after being away from us for 12 weeks, he returned home to a VERY excited family of Kubnicks. Since Jake left for school, we've had so many people ask us "when are you leaving?......are you still moving?.....when does Jake start his new job?" and well, I thought I would make answering all of those questions easier on myself and just put a blog post out there. For all of you inquiring minds, here you go.
8 years ago Jake got out of the Marine Corps with a bright future in air traffic control. He had been promised a job with the DOD and well, we learned a tough DOD lesson and things fell through. So, he applied to the FAA and got hired at Memphis Center. He accepted that job but then the FAA went through a huge pay grade restructuring process and the money was not worth the stress of being a controller for the FAA. But Jake said yes anyways because he needed to provide for his family. About 2 weeks before his check-in date in Memphis, the DOD called and hired Jake at MCAS Beaufort. We knew that when Jake called and turned down the FAA position that we didn't want to completely close that door. Jake's a talented controller and we had no idea what our future held for us. As our family has grown, we've gone through so many changes. We purchased our first home (right before the housing market collapsed) contingent on the two awesome incomes that we had for so many years. We've added 2 more children to the mix. We've gone through a lot of cars and car loans and have upgraded and downgraded more times than I can count. We found a church that is ALIVE. Jake became a Christian. We started listening to God. God started refining us for His purpose (we still don't know what this purpose is). We decided to try and live off only 1 great income instead of 2 (I hate discipline). And we've been on a crazy long roller coaster ride through it all. But for some reason, God keeps on blessing us.
2 and a half years ago Jake decided that he was ready to revisit the possibility of the FAA. His resume was beefed up and his experience immeasurable. He applied.....and got his dream job. Jake got hired at Atlanta Center. As a controller, from what he explained to me, that would be the pinnacle for his career. And he isn't even 35 yet. So he said "yes"! And then the government started enforcing furloughs. Government branches started their budgeting processes and money got cut from every single corner.....including the Department of Transportation. Every time the budget moved a little money from Peter to pay Paul, the numbers of employees that each air traffic control facility was able to employ was reduced. So basically, Jake was hired, but he was on a wait list for school because there wasn't enough money in the DOT's budget to school and hire the number of controllers that were waiting to be employed. About a year ago he started talking to his HR rep with the FAA and she told him that for him to get in as an employee in Atlanta, he would wait until 2018. She offered him several other options......New Hampshire, Minnesota, Oakland (bwahhahahha. nope.), and Memphis. When Memphis popped up Jake and I chuckled. We couldn't help but pay attention. So twice, this same job has fallen into Jake's lap. Maybe God wants us in Memphis? Jake accepted the job. He left for Oklahoma City in April. And the next 12 weeks we all spent surviving and letting God work on our hearts.
Last week our pastor delivered a sermon on a fresh start. He mentioned that a change of location isn't imperative for a fresh start. And Jake and I did the half smirk and glanced at each other. When Jake accepted the position in Memphis, our entire family was desperate for change. David had been with our family for a very short time and was struggling. We were coming off of a year and a half long fundraising frenzy for the adoption and separation during time in Ukraine and sleep deprivation that comes along with bringing a new child home. And we all thought we needed a fresh start. We needed change. But the change we needed wasn't to pack up the house and move. The change we needed was inside our home.....and inside our hearts. And Jake and I both knew that. Neither of us had peace. The day Jake arrived in Oklahoma City for FAA school, he said that God made it clear to him that Memphis was not the place for us. And I informed Jake that the idea of Memphis made me want to vomit. Not because it's Memphis, but because God was screaming at me "NO!". So now what? What do we do? Jake had already quit the job in Beaufort. So we started praying. And God started responding.
In our time apart, God spoke separately to me and Jake. Jake is the head of our home and I am the heart. Albeit a dirty, ugly heart, but the heart nonetheless. And God reminded me to just sit down and remember how He has met us every step......and in every mistake. The hindsight is always clearer. Jake turned down Memphis to work for the DOD. So we bought a house. The house we bought that was a HUGE mistake, God put a pastor in across the street to led Jake to Christ. Then God used my nephews baptism to lead us to a church that was spirit filled and just starting an adoption ministry. And that time that our dossier in Ukraine got rejected and we were devastated, was because God was waiting for our son to turn 5 and be eligible for adoption. I could go on and on.....but the point is, that one day, all of the pieces will fit. One day we will look back and see what God was doing and how His plan unfolded so perfectly for our lives. And as much as I knew that, the idea of Jake not having a job was terrifying. We started praying that God would make it 100% clear where he wanted Jake. If it was Memphis, then make Memphis the only option. If it wasn't Memphis, then God, open that job in Beaufort back up.
Long story short, Jake worked his butt off at school. And we stayed fervent in prayer and faithful that God would answer. And He did. On Monday, Jake received his final offer letter for a position in Beaufort. I was a nervous wreck until then. But Jake stood firm. He stood in full confidence and faith that God had spoken clearly to him. Maybe not Beaufort forever, but definitely not Memphis. Not now. Not when we have so much work to do at home.
2 years ago, the Kubnicks started making decisions that make NO sense. We started our adoption journey and answered so many questions about "why not just have more bio babies?". Then we answered a buzillion questions about international over domestic adoption. And now, now we have controller friends telling Jake that he's INSANE to turn down the FAA job. It's A LOT more money. It would mean a substantial amount of financial security for our family. But without peace, is that money worth it? And can I tell you, one of the proudest moments of my life is when Jake looked at me and said "God will make up for it. I know He will". (Insert tears).
Tomorrow morning, Jake will officially be a Department of Defense employee again. He will drive onto base tomorrow morning confident that he listened to God. He might not be driving that truck he dreams about. His decision might not make any sense to any person but God. But he is walking in faith. He is walking in obedience. And for now, we are staying put.
Yesterday I saw this quote on a FB friends' newsfeed: "Real faith is birthed in times of transition, contemplation and confusion." - TD Jakes.
God is birthing something in us. Faith. And it looks different for all of us. But for us, "the big move" means just being still.
8 years ago Jake got out of the Marine Corps with a bright future in air traffic control. He had been promised a job with the DOD and well, we learned a tough DOD lesson and things fell through. So, he applied to the FAA and got hired at Memphis Center. He accepted that job but then the FAA went through a huge pay grade restructuring process and the money was not worth the stress of being a controller for the FAA. But Jake said yes anyways because he needed to provide for his family. About 2 weeks before his check-in date in Memphis, the DOD called and hired Jake at MCAS Beaufort. We knew that when Jake called and turned down the FAA position that we didn't want to completely close that door. Jake's a talented controller and we had no idea what our future held for us. As our family has grown, we've gone through so many changes. We purchased our first home (right before the housing market collapsed) contingent on the two awesome incomes that we had for so many years. We've added 2 more children to the mix. We've gone through a lot of cars and car loans and have upgraded and downgraded more times than I can count. We found a church that is ALIVE. Jake became a Christian. We started listening to God. God started refining us for His purpose (we still don't know what this purpose is). We decided to try and live off only 1 great income instead of 2 (I hate discipline). And we've been on a crazy long roller coaster ride through it all. But for some reason, God keeps on blessing us.
2 and a half years ago Jake decided that he was ready to revisit the possibility of the FAA. His resume was beefed up and his experience immeasurable. He applied.....and got his dream job. Jake got hired at Atlanta Center. As a controller, from what he explained to me, that would be the pinnacle for his career. And he isn't even 35 yet. So he said "yes"! And then the government started enforcing furloughs. Government branches started their budgeting processes and money got cut from every single corner.....including the Department of Transportation. Every time the budget moved a little money from Peter to pay Paul, the numbers of employees that each air traffic control facility was able to employ was reduced. So basically, Jake was hired, but he was on a wait list for school because there wasn't enough money in the DOT's budget to school and hire the number of controllers that were waiting to be employed. About a year ago he started talking to his HR rep with the FAA and she told him that for him to get in as an employee in Atlanta, he would wait until 2018. She offered him several other options......New Hampshire, Minnesota, Oakland (bwahhahahha. nope.), and Memphis. When Memphis popped up Jake and I chuckled. We couldn't help but pay attention. So twice, this same job has fallen into Jake's lap. Maybe God wants us in Memphis? Jake accepted the job. He left for Oklahoma City in April. And the next 12 weeks we all spent surviving and letting God work on our hearts.
Last week our pastor delivered a sermon on a fresh start. He mentioned that a change of location isn't imperative for a fresh start. And Jake and I did the half smirk and glanced at each other. When Jake accepted the position in Memphis, our entire family was desperate for change. David had been with our family for a very short time and was struggling. We were coming off of a year and a half long fundraising frenzy for the adoption and separation during time in Ukraine and sleep deprivation that comes along with bringing a new child home. And we all thought we needed a fresh start. We needed change. But the change we needed wasn't to pack up the house and move. The change we needed was inside our home.....and inside our hearts. And Jake and I both knew that. Neither of us had peace. The day Jake arrived in Oklahoma City for FAA school, he said that God made it clear to him that Memphis was not the place for us. And I informed Jake that the idea of Memphis made me want to vomit. Not because it's Memphis, but because God was screaming at me "NO!". So now what? What do we do? Jake had already quit the job in Beaufort. So we started praying. And God started responding.
In our time apart, God spoke separately to me and Jake. Jake is the head of our home and I am the heart. Albeit a dirty, ugly heart, but the heart nonetheless. And God reminded me to just sit down and remember how He has met us every step......and in every mistake. The hindsight is always clearer. Jake turned down Memphis to work for the DOD. So we bought a house. The house we bought that was a HUGE mistake, God put a pastor in across the street to led Jake to Christ. Then God used my nephews baptism to lead us to a church that was spirit filled and just starting an adoption ministry. And that time that our dossier in Ukraine got rejected and we were devastated, was because God was waiting for our son to turn 5 and be eligible for adoption. I could go on and on.....but the point is, that one day, all of the pieces will fit. One day we will look back and see what God was doing and how His plan unfolded so perfectly for our lives. And as much as I knew that, the idea of Jake not having a job was terrifying. We started praying that God would make it 100% clear where he wanted Jake. If it was Memphis, then make Memphis the only option. If it wasn't Memphis, then God, open that job in Beaufort back up.
Long story short, Jake worked his butt off at school. And we stayed fervent in prayer and faithful that God would answer. And He did. On Monday, Jake received his final offer letter for a position in Beaufort. I was a nervous wreck until then. But Jake stood firm. He stood in full confidence and faith that God had spoken clearly to him. Maybe not Beaufort forever, but definitely not Memphis. Not now. Not when we have so much work to do at home.
2 years ago, the Kubnicks started making decisions that make NO sense. We started our adoption journey and answered so many questions about "why not just have more bio babies?". Then we answered a buzillion questions about international over domestic adoption. And now, now we have controller friends telling Jake that he's INSANE to turn down the FAA job. It's A LOT more money. It would mean a substantial amount of financial security for our family. But without peace, is that money worth it? And can I tell you, one of the proudest moments of my life is when Jake looked at me and said "God will make up for it. I know He will". (Insert tears).
Tomorrow morning, Jake will officially be a Department of Defense employee again. He will drive onto base tomorrow morning confident that he listened to God. He might not be driving that truck he dreams about. His decision might not make any sense to any person but God. But he is walking in faith. He is walking in obedience. And for now, we are staying put.
Yesterday I saw this quote on a FB friends' newsfeed: "Real faith is birthed in times of transition, contemplation and confusion." - TD Jakes.
God is birthing something in us. Faith. And it looks different for all of us. But for us, "the big move" means just being still.
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