That's my brain these last several weeks. Full and dirty and then clean and sparkly and 20 minutes later the kids want to eat again (every day they want to eat!) and back to full and dirty with muck and mess smeared on the inside walls. I get mentally overwhelmed. Physically I'm like a workhorse; fixing toilets, mowing the lawn, painting, sewing, laundry, meals, therapy, and on and on I go. But mentally, my disposal gets clogged and I struggle to grind it all down to what matters. Unfortunately for anyone reading, failure to dispose properly typically means a jumbled up blogger mess. Imma try to keep it together on this one......
In the last several weeks I have totally felt like the worst ever adoption advocate. I told Jake months ago that it was hurting my heart so badly that I felt like all I ever talk about is the hard. And that I never ever ever want to be the reason that someone says "no". And that's a tough pill to swallow. It's tough to look at your perspective and acknowledge it as "stinkin thinkin". But the truth is, I'm just being real. THIS IS HARD. This last week, God knew. He knows my heart. He knows how much it hurts for orphans. He knows how much it hurts for the little boy under my roof that hasn't allowed himself to get rid of that label yet. And God always provides. Here in the midst of my "stinkin thinkin" I had 2 friends randomly say "hey let's talk adoption". In the same day. On a very hard day when I was wondering what in the world I was doing as a parent. And they both appreciate my honesty and had questions and asked for prayer and didn't completely reject me when I gave them the lovely and the ugly on a platter. And another friend that has been close to us and knows the gross details of our "stuff" and who I figured had completely eliminated the adoption option after getting all eaten up in our tangled web told me, that watching us has just let her know that her faith needs to grow before she can do it. She told me a whole lot of super sweet things and built up my confidence and made my ego all big and swollen. And God put His arm around my shoulder and pulled me in closer and said "told you so". And all of this came after my two weeks ago week.........
We've seen a lot of doctors in the last 10 years. Between Jakes fragile bones and Cole's hernias and Zellas tummy issues and Davids lack of medical care for his first 5 years of life we've become very familiar with our little circle of medical professionals. Our pediatrician joked (but my checkbook knew he was only half joking) when Zella was a baby that he was going to just rent me a room in his office and have a plaque made. He got a new truck that year. Just sayin. But so I saw a doctor that has always been very very honest with me. He believes in laying it all out and letting us sort through it. I sat there and listened to these acronyms being rattled off in association with our son and my mama mind started to panic. I missed my calling as a doctor. I understand medicine and diagnoses and will research something to death just to be educated. I knew what these things meant and I knew what they meant for our future and it was scary. And the doc talked to me about a lot of really hard stuff. Things that parents cringe at and things that make me want to puke. But they are still realities. Whether they induce vomit or not, it is what it is. And he said to me before we left, he wanted me to make a list of pros and cons. And there's no point. I could write out the cons for days. And on the Pros side it will say "But God". I texted another adoptive mama when I left that appointment and unloaded on her. Have I ever mentioned how thankful I am that God put other adoptive families in our circle? And as I was processing all of this stuff with her, this.....I KNOW, without a shadow of a doubt that God can heal this child. But I also know that He may choose not to. And that doesn't change that He commissioned me to parent this child in the name of Jesus. It doesn't degrade the size of God's plan for this child. It doesn't diminish the size of God's heart and love for this child. With or without diagnosis, this is a child of God's and He has a plan. A good plan. And not just for David. For Cole and Zella too......
I've spent a large majority of my time as Cole and Zellas mom trying to protect them. From everything under the sun even including the sun. When I hurt, I hurt so deep and I see that in both of them and there was no part of my mama's heart that was interested in letting them walk that out. And then I walked hurt right through our door when we brought David home. Can I just say, if you know an adoptive family, please don't only consider the changes that the adopted child is enduring. From a Mom's perspective, Cole and Zella have sacrificed so much and have witnessed and endured so much hurt in the last 8 months. These last 2 months I have ached for them. They miss their daddy. They've said goodbye to friends. They've longed to be closer to cousins. They've been desperate for their old, very quiet normal. And there are nights when I lay in bed and ask God why He would wreck two, to save one. But God.......He always knows. Last week we all sat down at the dinner table and Cole started to pray. He prayed to bless the meal and thanked God for a great day. And he paused and said "Dear Jesus. Please heal David." It may seem so small.....but Cole had spent his day mad at David. And in his anger. He prayed for him. God didn't wreck two to save one. He's saving them all. And I can't protect them from everything if I want them to learn to that their Protector is not named "Mom". I have to show them how to live through the hard stuff. Praying when angry.......if he's got that down then I can take my gloves off and rest for a while! Those tiny moments, those are the moments God promises. The rainbows after the rain. I hold onto those.......
And I'm so thankful that I had that moment because I needed it. I had a friend tell me when we first got home to go ahead and just stop caring what other people think. I didn't get it at first. I got judged for the first time as a mother last week. It was painful and there was a girl with bad attitude and weave and her shoe in her hand that was fighting to get out of me but I held my tongue and moved along. All 3 kids were given "jobs" that suited them. If the jobs were completed, we were going to get frozen yogurt. Cole and Zella completed their jobs and David chose not to. We got frozen yogurt anyways and David did not get any. We put our cups on the counter and the cashier pointed to David and said "isn't he going to get some too?" I replied nicely and she huffed. And I ate my yogurt through gritted teeth. Here's why I'm telling this story.......if you ask Zella, she can very distinctly recall Cole's 6th birthday. She remembers it because her behavior was so AWFUL at daycare that day that she did not get to have any birthday cake. She went to daycare for a full year after that. Never had another bad day. In a year. I think that sometimes people forget that love is not all mushy gushy. Love includes discipline. And it includes boundaries and right from wrong. And in the end, each of us has a free will. There are always 2 choices. Our job is to shape our children so that the right choice will always be clear. And you know what's really hard sometimes? That when we don't properly define "love", people assume that they can just "love" the past out of an orphan. When properly defined, you can. Love can reframe and restructure and heal and bind up and redirect whatever hard stuff may have been endured in a past life. But hugs and food alone won't do it. It just won't. Two years ago I was that mom that judged. If we were in Target and a kid was screaming and the mom was just strolling along like it was nothing at all I would have totally thought to myself that someone needed to go break a switch (you have to read this in a really country voice). But not now. Cause I'm that mom. I'm that mom with 3 kids with different needs that require different handling and different consequences and have different love languages AND I'm that mom that knows that I'm the only one that knows what my kids need. Don't be judgemental about other people's parenting. It isn't constructive and you don't live their life.
That last sentence was kind of angry sounding! I'll close with this.......these small people are all gifts from the Lord. They have different packaging and let's just be honest it can seem like God used the really thick foil paper and layered it 27 times on some days but what if as Moms we stop looking at how hard it can be and start thinking "wow. God thinks I'm pretty amazing if He tasked me out with THIS." He does. He thinks we're awesome. And we are. We are the glue. We are the gears that make the machine turn. Keep grinding. Look for God on the hard days and He will make Himself known.....whether it's in the tiny sounds of your babies crying out to Him, or blue skies after days of rain, or a dent in the lady that works at the fro-yo places bumper......He sees you. He hears you. He loves you. (Someone send me a link to this blog next week when I forget this stuff. Thanks.)
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Sunday, May 4, 2014
2 years and 7 months.....
It's been 2 years. 2 years ago since we said "yes" to adoption. 2 years ago today Jake told me that he had been praying and felt like God told him that there was a 5 year old little boy waiting for us in Ukraine. 2 years since this journey began. In those 2 years we've fundraised and prayed circles and cried and dealt with frustration and we've played tug-o-war with God over control and "the plan". We've argued with Him and we've stomped our feet and we've shaken our fists at Him in the hard times. We've cried tears of joy over the miracles performed in paperwork and government meetings and really angry orphanage directors that need a change of heart. We've watched God work in a passport office and at oyster roasts and yard sales and we've seen a little boy fight us, just as hard as we have fought God, and cling to us, just as tightly as we cling to God. And 2 years ago today, we voluntarily walked into all of this, because He said "come".
7 months ago today, David and I walked hand in hand, after 24 hours of traveling, into the airport terminal to see "Welcome Home" signs and our families and our church family all there, crying tears of joy for not just one less orphan, but because God did it. He got us home. As a family of 5.
And I'm writing all this out tonight because that's what we're supposed to do right? When we need desperately to see God, we have to look. I've made it no secret that the last 7 months have been hard. In that hard though, God has been there. And so tonight, when I need to see Him, I will look for Him. And find Him.
When we first got home.....
- David had never seen toilet paper. He had no idea how to use it or even why we would use it.
- His fine motor skills were so underdeveloped that he couldn't hold an eating utensil. At 5 years old he was unable to use his pincher grip, hold a crayon tight enough to color, pull clothing on or off by himself, etc.
- His muscles were so underdeveloped that he was unable to stand for long periods of time because his legs would literally give out.
- He was not fully potty trained and if there was an accident, he was content with sitting in it as that was customary at the orphanage.
- He did not know how to be held. We would pick him up and he was straight as and as stiff as a board. He didn't know how to hug back. He would just be lifeless in our arms.
- He had been so sensory deprived that he would gag himself on food, because he had very little feeling inside his mouth. He would pack it so full of food that he couldn't swallow it, because he couldn't feel how much was in there.
- He was unable to drink from a cup. The first time we tried he almost drowned. I'm not at all exaggerating.
- He had never taken a warm shower or bath. Bath time was miserable. Because he was used to it being freezing, he was terrified of it.
- Bedtime was the worst part of everyones day. Hours of screaming and crying and fist throwing.
- He would rock violently and chant all night long. Never sleeping. He would use only a tiny portion of the bed because he was so stiff that he would never move.
- Out of fear and anxiety he would harm himself. Clawing at his face and arms and anything he could touch at night. Because night time at the orphanage is when horrible things happened.
I could go on and on. But I'm seeking God's goodness tonight.......
7 months home.....
- David had never seen toilet paper. He had no idea how to use it or even why we would use it.
I am officially no longer "wiping" :). While we do have the occasional cleanliness reminder.....he's a 5 year old boy.
- His fine motor skills were so underdeveloped that he couldn't hold an eating utensil. At 5 years old he was unable to use his pincher grip, hold a crayon tight enough to color, pull clothing on or off by himself, etc.
David is writing....and coloring....and learned very quickly that he's right handed and prefers to use a spoon instead of a fork. It took him about a month to master feeding himself. He gets himself dressed and undressed every day and has now learned to put on his belt, button his shirts all alone, zip his zipper and tuck his shirt in!
- His muscles were so underdeveloped that he was unable to stand for long periods of time because his legs would literally give out.
David asked Santa for a bike for Christmas. And Santa delivered. The first time David rode he could not push the pedals because his legs were so weak. He now zooms up and down the sidewalk right alongside Zella.
- He was not fully potty trained and if there was an accident, he was content with sitting in it as that was customary at the orphanage.
David has not had a potty accident since his 1 month home mark!!! Not even in the bed!!!
- He did not know how to be held. We would pick him up and he was straight as and as stiff as a board. He didn't know how to hug back. He would just be lifeless in our arms.
He learned how to hug very very fast. It didn't take him long to understand that we weren't going to drop him when we picked him up......and that it's much more comfortable if he relaxes :)
- He had been so sensory deprived that he would gag himself on food, because he had very little feeling inside his mouth. He would pack it so full of food that he couldn't swallow it, because he couldn't feel how much was in there.
There are still a few textures that David isn't very sure about....but his sensory integration has improved amazingly in 7 months of being exposed to different foods and textures and tastes. He loves food. All food. Even vegetables (that makes 1 Kubnick kid!).
- He was unable to drink from an open cup. The first time we tried he almost drowned. I'm not at all exaggerating. He was also unable to suck out of a straw because the muscles in his mouth were so underdeveloped that he had no sucking ability.
He has mastered the art of the sippy cup and straw. It took no time at all! We finally figured out that he couldn't drink from a cup because he lacked the appropriate reflex. Thanks to the trusty garden tub and the shower, we've worked on him being able to open and close his throat. He was drowning when he was drinking water from a cup because he was trying to breathe it in! I watched him tonight in the shower, face in the water, breathing like a champ :)
- He had never taken a warm shower or bath. Bath time was miserable. Because he was used to it being freezing, he was terrified of it.
Within a week he was loving warm water. He is now able to tell us that he got one bath a week and that it was always cold. No wonder he hated it!
- Bedtime was the worst part of everyones day. Hours of screaming and crying and fist throwing.
- He would rock violently and chant all night long. Never sleeping. He would use only a tiny portion of the bed because he was so stiff that he would never move.
- Out of fear and anxiety he would harm himself. Clawing at his face and arms and anything he could touch at night. Because night time at the orphanage is when horrible things happened.
The rocking has continued, but it's no longer violent. It's a self soothing mechanism. He now rocks quietly. The self harming has greatly reduced and he sprawls out all over the mattress. I'm pretty sure I heard him snoring last week! His bed has become his safe place.
- David started Kindergarten in January. He tested out of the ESOL program because his English is so good. He's able to do basic math and is learning to tell time. His teacher constantly marvels at how quickly he picks up on new skills.
So why am I giving you all of these details? Because adoption and parenting and just well, life, sometimes it is hard. Because when we spend our weeks juggling therapy and school meetings and all 3 kids are battling different demons, its HARD to look at things and say "look at what God has done". That's all I wanted to do tonight. Look at what God has done.
7 months ago today, David and I walked hand in hand, after 24 hours of traveling, into the airport terminal to see "Welcome Home" signs and our families and our church family all there, crying tears of joy for not just one less orphan, but because God did it. He got us home. As a family of 5.
And I'm writing all this out tonight because that's what we're supposed to do right? When we need desperately to see God, we have to look. I've made it no secret that the last 7 months have been hard. In that hard though, God has been there. And so tonight, when I need to see Him, I will look for Him. And find Him.
When we first got home.....
- David had never seen toilet paper. He had no idea how to use it or even why we would use it.
- His fine motor skills were so underdeveloped that he couldn't hold an eating utensil. At 5 years old he was unable to use his pincher grip, hold a crayon tight enough to color, pull clothing on or off by himself, etc.
- His muscles were so underdeveloped that he was unable to stand for long periods of time because his legs would literally give out.
- He was not fully potty trained and if there was an accident, he was content with sitting in it as that was customary at the orphanage.
- He did not know how to be held. We would pick him up and he was straight as and as stiff as a board. He didn't know how to hug back. He would just be lifeless in our arms.
- He had been so sensory deprived that he would gag himself on food, because he had very little feeling inside his mouth. He would pack it so full of food that he couldn't swallow it, because he couldn't feel how much was in there.
- He was unable to drink from a cup. The first time we tried he almost drowned. I'm not at all exaggerating.
- He had never taken a warm shower or bath. Bath time was miserable. Because he was used to it being freezing, he was terrified of it.
- Bedtime was the worst part of everyones day. Hours of screaming and crying and fist throwing.
- He would rock violently and chant all night long. Never sleeping. He would use only a tiny portion of the bed because he was so stiff that he would never move.
- Out of fear and anxiety he would harm himself. Clawing at his face and arms and anything he could touch at night. Because night time at the orphanage is when horrible things happened.
I could go on and on. But I'm seeking God's goodness tonight.......
7 months home.....
- David had never seen toilet paper. He had no idea how to use it or even why we would use it.
I am officially no longer "wiping" :). While we do have the occasional cleanliness reminder.....he's a 5 year old boy.
- His fine motor skills were so underdeveloped that he couldn't hold an eating utensil. At 5 years old he was unable to use his pincher grip, hold a crayon tight enough to color, pull clothing on or off by himself, etc.
David is writing....and coloring....and learned very quickly that he's right handed and prefers to use a spoon instead of a fork. It took him about a month to master feeding himself. He gets himself dressed and undressed every day and has now learned to put on his belt, button his shirts all alone, zip his zipper and tuck his shirt in!
- His muscles were so underdeveloped that he was unable to stand for long periods of time because his legs would literally give out.
David asked Santa for a bike for Christmas. And Santa delivered. The first time David rode he could not push the pedals because his legs were so weak. He now zooms up and down the sidewalk right alongside Zella.
- He was not fully potty trained and if there was an accident, he was content with sitting in it as that was customary at the orphanage.
David has not had a potty accident since his 1 month home mark!!! Not even in the bed!!!
- He did not know how to be held. We would pick him up and he was straight as and as stiff as a board. He didn't know how to hug back. He would just be lifeless in our arms.
He learned how to hug very very fast. It didn't take him long to understand that we weren't going to drop him when we picked him up......and that it's much more comfortable if he relaxes :)
- He had been so sensory deprived that he would gag himself on food, because he had very little feeling inside his mouth. He would pack it so full of food that he couldn't swallow it, because he couldn't feel how much was in there.
There are still a few textures that David isn't very sure about....but his sensory integration has improved amazingly in 7 months of being exposed to different foods and textures and tastes. He loves food. All food. Even vegetables (that makes 1 Kubnick kid!).
- He was unable to drink from an open cup. The first time we tried he almost drowned. I'm not at all exaggerating. He was also unable to suck out of a straw because the muscles in his mouth were so underdeveloped that he had no sucking ability.
He has mastered the art of the sippy cup and straw. It took no time at all! We finally figured out that he couldn't drink from a cup because he lacked the appropriate reflex. Thanks to the trusty garden tub and the shower, we've worked on him being able to open and close his throat. He was drowning when he was drinking water from a cup because he was trying to breathe it in! I watched him tonight in the shower, face in the water, breathing like a champ :)
- He had never taken a warm shower or bath. Bath time was miserable. Because he was used to it being freezing, he was terrified of it.
Within a week he was loving warm water. He is now able to tell us that he got one bath a week and that it was always cold. No wonder he hated it!
- Bedtime was the worst part of everyones day. Hours of screaming and crying and fist throwing.
- He would rock violently and chant all night long. Never sleeping. He would use only a tiny portion of the bed because he was so stiff that he would never move.
- Out of fear and anxiety he would harm himself. Clawing at his face and arms and anything he could touch at night. Because night time at the orphanage is when horrible things happened.
The rocking has continued, but it's no longer violent. It's a self soothing mechanism. He now rocks quietly. The self harming has greatly reduced and he sprawls out all over the mattress. I'm pretty sure I heard him snoring last week! His bed has become his safe place.
- David started Kindergarten in January. He tested out of the ESOL program because his English is so good. He's able to do basic math and is learning to tell time. His teacher constantly marvels at how quickly he picks up on new skills.
So why am I giving you all of these details? Because adoption and parenting and just well, life, sometimes it is hard. Because when we spend our weeks juggling therapy and school meetings and all 3 kids are battling different demons, its HARD to look at things and say "look at what God has done". That's all I wanted to do tonight. Look at what God has done.
Saturday, April 19, 2014
Easter Time
Zella refers to every occasion, event, holiday, etc. as "___ time". The last few weeks as we've been out and about she has noticed that Easter time is on its way. Easter this year has been a little different for our family. It means a little more and the kids are a little older and they've started asking questions. And more importantly, they've started listening when we answer. But so in the last few weeks the puzzle pieces have started to form. I'm not saying I've connected any of the pieces, but I'm starting to see that all of these pieces might actually go to the same puzzle.
We were in the grocery store one day and Zella started talking about Easter. I asked her if she knew the real reason that we celebrate Easter and she gave me her "go-to church kid" answer......"Its Jesus' birthday". As we shopped, I started explaining to her.....Palm Sunday, Good Friday and Easter Sunday. I wasn't being loud. I was leaned over close to her as I pushed the cart and she sat face to face with me with her eyes huge with wonder. I could have been Cinderella talking the way she was looking at me. Like she was in love with the story of a man that died for her. A man that's madly in love with her. I can see it in her. She's smitten. I talked through the whole shopping trip. Feeding her more. And I was getting scowls from passers by. And I kept talking. But it hit me that day......this is the world I'm raising these kids in. A world where I get scowls for what a lot of people say is polluting kids' minds. What am I polluting them with? Hope? Then I will keep on contaminating. Day in and day out I will add to the sludge in their minds that I strategically concoct with joy and discipline and selflessness and servanthood and love and faith and hope.
I was painting tonight and I thought back to the first painting that I sold. It was an anchor, painted on a cutting board. "This hope we have as anchor for the soul is both strong and steadfast." Hebrews 6:19. That was the first fundraising effort we made for adoption. God knew. He knew that one day, in my seeming hopelessness, I would remember that. He knew that He would bring us full circle.....from selling the painting to someone who needed a reminder of hope, in an effort to bring hope to a child. all the way around to needing hope that He is strong and steadfast and will complete His work in us. He delivered on that this last week. You know, it's hard for a lot of people to understand why adoption is hard. I think sometimes people assume that these children will feel rescued and look at us like we are their heroes. And it's just not like that. Regardless of the conditions that any adopted child was living in at the time of adoption, they're still being torn from their familiar environment. They are still being taken away from the only people they know. They are still being thrown into a new environment with expectations and people oohing and aahing over them and new sights and smells and sounds. They are still, at any age. having to completely reframe every part of their mentality. They have to learn to trust at a very basic level and depending on the circumstances and background that can take a very long time. And the families that are fighting through these trust issues are literally in the trenches. They wake up every morning ready to go to war because that's what it is. It's war against a world that scowls at us when we tell our kids about Jesus in the grocery store. Its war against an enemy that used someone to destroy a child. Its war against the lies spoken over that child that the enemy reminds them of every single day. And there are GREAT days. There are also hopeless days. Days when Jesus is all we have left. No tears. No sweat. No want to. Nothing left but Jesus. And hope. We have hope, because of Jesus. And that's enough. That's enough to get up tomorrow and fight again. Because what we are delivering, and running on, is the same product. Hope. Last Sunday we were driving to church and I look in the mirror and Zella and David both had their hands raised and eyes closed just lost in worship music. I turned it down and because I know that nobody had ever explained it to him, I asked him "David, do you know why we lift our hands when we sing these songs?" and his very quiet voice responded, "yes ma'am. Because we are singing to God and reaching for Him." I turned the music back up and let the little tear run down my face in silence. I screw up. I am NOT "the hands and feet of Jesus" to this child every day. I have asked God so many times why He chose us to fight this battle. And He has reminded me SO many times, He has already won this battle, LET HIM FIGHT FOR ME. And listening to David say that, it just reminded me of Gods power. Of the pure, raw power of hope. That just tiny little doses can be more hope than one person has ever had. That just hearing the name of Jesus can start to melt a stone cold heart. I held onto that this week. And needed it.....badly today.
That's the way this parenting stuff works. We have good days and bad days and days where our kids just absolutely hate us and days where they want to be our BFF and that's just the way the dice roll. Zella has this new thing that she does with Cole where he will talk to her and she will completely ignore him. And she's pretty strong because she will hold out for up to an hour and he gets fuming mad. I've never seen him as angry as he was today with her. It happened right before we were getting in the car to run some errands and when I got in the car I saw that he had his Bible in his lap. I asked what he was reading and he said he was looking up scripture about anger. (I'm totally cheesy smiling right now. Proud mama!). And him looking up that scripture led into some questions about theology that are pretty deep for an 8 year old but that also prove to me that having him sit in and listen to the sermon with us on Sundays is super beneficial. He was asking questions about the Trinity and about God's "bigness" and to each answer their was a follow-up question. He asked me "I just don't understand, if Jesus walked on the earth, and people could see Him, how could they still not believe?" And I thought back to our Pastors Good Friday service sermon. He said something like this........there's all this talk about whether or not Jesus died on the cross. Did he walk the earth? and the thing is that people don't want to believe in Jesus because if they admit that He died for them (and He did), they will owe Him their life. And I brought that up to Cole and he retorted with "but how can we die for Jesus?" and I looked in the mirror and saw David, in his seat, furiously angry. The scowl on his face was just plain ugly and mean and I could feel the crossbars on my shoulders. And before I could answer, Cole said "is that kind of what it means in Luke that Pastor Jamie talked about where it says to take up your cross daily?" Oh sweet boy. Yes. And that was my hope. That I have felt like an absolute failure of a mother in the last several months. But you know what? God has my back. He's still working in these kids. And isn't this my commission? He's still walking me through it every step of the way and proving to me that I'm not totally failing. The song "Children of God" was playing and Zella was lost again as the words sang "we are the saints, we are the children, we've been redeemed, we've been forgiven, we are the sons and daughters of our God". I felt like God poked me and said "just hold on". And I know what He meant. He meant to let Him work. He meant to keep praying over David even on the days when he has been mean or hateful and on the days when he's happy and being a 5 year old little boy. God meant to let Him fight this battle. My hope is in Him. And He will bring us full circle. These past few says, at Easter time, God has reminded me that He, however many years ago (my Bible knowledge needs a little refresher) He crushed the head of the enemy under His heel at Easter time. That He defeated death. That He died that I might have life to the fullest. And not just me. The scowlers. The Davids and the ladies at the grocery store with "I'm judging you" written all over their faces. Everyone. And that is hope. That is the anchor. And it is both strong and steadfast. My prayer is to be not just a taker of that hope, but a deliverer as well.
We were in the grocery store one day and Zella started talking about Easter. I asked her if she knew the real reason that we celebrate Easter and she gave me her "go-to church kid" answer......"Its Jesus' birthday". As we shopped, I started explaining to her.....Palm Sunday, Good Friday and Easter Sunday. I wasn't being loud. I was leaned over close to her as I pushed the cart and she sat face to face with me with her eyes huge with wonder. I could have been Cinderella talking the way she was looking at me. Like she was in love with the story of a man that died for her. A man that's madly in love with her. I can see it in her. She's smitten. I talked through the whole shopping trip. Feeding her more. And I was getting scowls from passers by. And I kept talking. But it hit me that day......this is the world I'm raising these kids in. A world where I get scowls for what a lot of people say is polluting kids' minds. What am I polluting them with? Hope? Then I will keep on contaminating. Day in and day out I will add to the sludge in their minds that I strategically concoct with joy and discipline and selflessness and servanthood and love and faith and hope.
I was painting tonight and I thought back to the first painting that I sold. It was an anchor, painted on a cutting board. "This hope we have as anchor for the soul is both strong and steadfast." Hebrews 6:19. That was the first fundraising effort we made for adoption. God knew. He knew that one day, in my seeming hopelessness, I would remember that. He knew that He would bring us full circle.....from selling the painting to someone who needed a reminder of hope, in an effort to bring hope to a child. all the way around to needing hope that He is strong and steadfast and will complete His work in us. He delivered on that this last week. You know, it's hard for a lot of people to understand why adoption is hard. I think sometimes people assume that these children will feel rescued and look at us like we are their heroes. And it's just not like that. Regardless of the conditions that any adopted child was living in at the time of adoption, they're still being torn from their familiar environment. They are still being taken away from the only people they know. They are still being thrown into a new environment with expectations and people oohing and aahing over them and new sights and smells and sounds. They are still, at any age. having to completely reframe every part of their mentality. They have to learn to trust at a very basic level and depending on the circumstances and background that can take a very long time. And the families that are fighting through these trust issues are literally in the trenches. They wake up every morning ready to go to war because that's what it is. It's war against a world that scowls at us when we tell our kids about Jesus in the grocery store. Its war against an enemy that used someone to destroy a child. Its war against the lies spoken over that child that the enemy reminds them of every single day. And there are GREAT days. There are also hopeless days. Days when Jesus is all we have left. No tears. No sweat. No want to. Nothing left but Jesus. And hope. We have hope, because of Jesus. And that's enough. That's enough to get up tomorrow and fight again. Because what we are delivering, and running on, is the same product. Hope. Last Sunday we were driving to church and I look in the mirror and Zella and David both had their hands raised and eyes closed just lost in worship music. I turned it down and because I know that nobody had ever explained it to him, I asked him "David, do you know why we lift our hands when we sing these songs?" and his very quiet voice responded, "yes ma'am. Because we are singing to God and reaching for Him." I turned the music back up and let the little tear run down my face in silence. I screw up. I am NOT "the hands and feet of Jesus" to this child every day. I have asked God so many times why He chose us to fight this battle. And He has reminded me SO many times, He has already won this battle, LET HIM FIGHT FOR ME. And listening to David say that, it just reminded me of Gods power. Of the pure, raw power of hope. That just tiny little doses can be more hope than one person has ever had. That just hearing the name of Jesus can start to melt a stone cold heart. I held onto that this week. And needed it.....badly today.
That's the way this parenting stuff works. We have good days and bad days and days where our kids just absolutely hate us and days where they want to be our BFF and that's just the way the dice roll. Zella has this new thing that she does with Cole where he will talk to her and she will completely ignore him. And she's pretty strong because she will hold out for up to an hour and he gets fuming mad. I've never seen him as angry as he was today with her. It happened right before we were getting in the car to run some errands and when I got in the car I saw that he had his Bible in his lap. I asked what he was reading and he said he was looking up scripture about anger. (I'm totally cheesy smiling right now. Proud mama!). And him looking up that scripture led into some questions about theology that are pretty deep for an 8 year old but that also prove to me that having him sit in and listen to the sermon with us on Sundays is super beneficial. He was asking questions about the Trinity and about God's "bigness" and to each answer their was a follow-up question. He asked me "I just don't understand, if Jesus walked on the earth, and people could see Him, how could they still not believe?" And I thought back to our Pastors Good Friday service sermon. He said something like this........there's all this talk about whether or not Jesus died on the cross. Did he walk the earth? and the thing is that people don't want to believe in Jesus because if they admit that He died for them (and He did), they will owe Him their life. And I brought that up to Cole and he retorted with "but how can we die for Jesus?" and I looked in the mirror and saw David, in his seat, furiously angry. The scowl on his face was just plain ugly and mean and I could feel the crossbars on my shoulders. And before I could answer, Cole said "is that kind of what it means in Luke that Pastor Jamie talked about where it says to take up your cross daily?" Oh sweet boy. Yes. And that was my hope. That I have felt like an absolute failure of a mother in the last several months. But you know what? God has my back. He's still working in these kids. And isn't this my commission? He's still walking me through it every step of the way and proving to me that I'm not totally failing. The song "Children of God" was playing and Zella was lost again as the words sang "we are the saints, we are the children, we've been redeemed, we've been forgiven, we are the sons and daughters of our God". I felt like God poked me and said "just hold on". And I know what He meant. He meant to let Him work. He meant to keep praying over David even on the days when he has been mean or hateful and on the days when he's happy and being a 5 year old little boy. God meant to let Him fight this battle. My hope is in Him. And He will bring us full circle. These past few says, at Easter time, God has reminded me that He, however many years ago (my Bible knowledge needs a little refresher) He crushed the head of the enemy under His heel at Easter time. That He defeated death. That He died that I might have life to the fullest. And not just me. The scowlers. The Davids and the ladies at the grocery store with "I'm judging you" written all over their faces. Everyone. And that is hope. That is the anchor. And it is both strong and steadfast. My prayer is to be not just a taker of that hope, but a deliverer as well.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Job
I've been hesitant to write this. Very often when I write or post or blog or even speak about certain things, the devil uses those very things against me. He is predictably awful. I know its coming....and it still knocks the wind out of me. At the risk of being derailed, I'm sharing this anyways. Maybe someone needs it today. I know I can use it every day.
It's no secret that I have struggled in the last few months. Please, if you're reading this, don't interpret that to mean that there have been no good days. Of course there are good days and good times and memories and laughter and jokes. We are not without hope or joy or light over here. BUT, we are very much battling. And being in the trenches sometimes means that those jokes and the laughter and the joy, those things don't carry us as far as they might if our circumstances were more desirable. Through every trial, God is revealing to us that His desire is for us to have those things, joy, hope, laughter, in spite of our circumstances. And for our circumstances to be superficial while our faith that the seasons will soon change again, is deeper and unwaivering. We have found that through each trial, God is revealing His power to us, by revealing to us our weaknesses.
Monday morning was challenging for me. I struggle so much in the mornings with the kids. Zella NEVER stops talking. EVER. Cole dances and sings and the hand motions.....its like a stage performance of Fame every morning in our house. It is not possible to dress yourself, eat breakfast, brush teeth and walk the dog while performing said routines. Just sayin. And David moves at the speed of smell with intention. If I gave him 7 hours to eat breakfast and get dressed, it would not be enough time. So I read that blog about the mom that swore she would never ever again tell her free spirited daughter to hurry up or move quickly. I am not that mom. I am married to Jake. Marine Jake. And in this family, we are on time. Early is on time and on time is late. Being tardy to school is not an option. So there is a lot of "please try and move quickly......I'm setting the timer for you to eat breakfast......please turn your body away from the mirror so that you can brush your teeth instead of watching yourself dance.....please put your shoes on......please put your shoes on.....WHYYYYY are your shoes STILL not on?....." and around and around we go. EVERY morning I wake up and spend a little time with Jesus and sip my coffee and say "I am refreshed! Today is going to be a GREAT day!" and then the kids wake up and that optimism is completely shot within a 45 minute window. And the common denominator. Its me. Ouch. It's totally me. The kids haven't changed. They are actually protesting change. I'm the one that has grown less patient and a lot louder and maybe not as chipper in the mornings. And so how do I fix me? I have to figure out the problem and go from there, right? The problem is control. That I can't stand and it makes my skin crawl that I can't manipulate their tiny little bodies to move at the pace I am requiring of them. It drives me insane that they are just as independent as I am (wait.....didn't I pray for that once?). I have a problem with control. So Monday morning, Jake took the boys to school and I opened my Bible. I had NO idea where the Lord was leading me and its a very rare occasion that I just say "show me what you have for me in here". But on Monday, I did. I was too worn out to even have a plan. And the Lord led me to the book of Job.
I know this story. Who doesn't know the story of Job. Greatest man in all the land. Blameless. Supremely blessed. Satan approached the Lord after wandering the earth and he asked about Job. He asked God if Job feared Him for just reason or not because he had been SO blessed by the Lord. God had never taken anything away from him, how could he truly fear and honor God when only good things had happened to him. So the Lord allowed Job to be tested. But this is not the part of the story that I felt led to on Monday. Chapter 38 the Lord speaks to Job "out of the storm". Chapters 38, 39 and the beginning of Chapter 40 are God speaking to Job of His great works. He details the majesty and wonder of His perfect creation.....
"where were you when I laid the earths foundation? Tell me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone - while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy? Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from its womb, when I made the clouds its garment and wrapped it in thick darkness, when I fixed limits for it and set its doors and bars in place, when I said 'This far you may come and farther; here is where your proud waves halt'? "Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place, that it might take the earth by the edges and shake the wicked out of it?" Job 38:8-12
There is so much more past these verses. Keep reading. I felt like a kid again. The imagery and intricate detail and beauty.....its all there. And God is reminding Job of the things He has done, to lead to this......"Do you have an arm like Gods, and can your voice thunder like His? Then adorn yourself with glory and splendor, and clothe yourself in honor and majesty. Unleash the fury of your wrath, look at every proud man and bring him low, look at every proud man and humble him, crush the wicked where they stand. Bury them all in the dust together; shroud their faces in the grave. Then, I myself will admit to you that your own right hand can save you." Job 40:9-14
God led me to this scripture to remind me......my own desire for control is STUPID. Why would I not want the creator of the universe to have control when He alone, can save me. I am powerless without Him. My own right hand is useless to me, if it isn't holding His. HE alone can crush the wicked. He alone would become a man and redeem me through death on a cross and HE alone, would subsequently crush evil under His heal. I can do none of those things. Who am I? I am loved. I am fought for. I am upheld by the same God that gave the stallion its mane. The same God that threw things into orbit and put snow caps on the mountains. The same God that created me in my mothers womb and knit me together perfectly. The same God that knit my children together, perfectly, in all of their slowness. I must allow God to control my life, so that my children will know that it is not Mom or Dad or themselves that must control their lives, but God. I must exhibit humility and surrender, in order for them to exhibit the same character.
Touche, God. Touche.
It's no secret that I have struggled in the last few months. Please, if you're reading this, don't interpret that to mean that there have been no good days. Of course there are good days and good times and memories and laughter and jokes. We are not without hope or joy or light over here. BUT, we are very much battling. And being in the trenches sometimes means that those jokes and the laughter and the joy, those things don't carry us as far as they might if our circumstances were more desirable. Through every trial, God is revealing to us that His desire is for us to have those things, joy, hope, laughter, in spite of our circumstances. And for our circumstances to be superficial while our faith that the seasons will soon change again, is deeper and unwaivering. We have found that through each trial, God is revealing His power to us, by revealing to us our weaknesses.
Monday morning was challenging for me. I struggle so much in the mornings with the kids. Zella NEVER stops talking. EVER. Cole dances and sings and the hand motions.....its like a stage performance of Fame every morning in our house. It is not possible to dress yourself, eat breakfast, brush teeth and walk the dog while performing said routines. Just sayin. And David moves at the speed of smell with intention. If I gave him 7 hours to eat breakfast and get dressed, it would not be enough time. So I read that blog about the mom that swore she would never ever again tell her free spirited daughter to hurry up or move quickly. I am not that mom. I am married to Jake. Marine Jake. And in this family, we are on time. Early is on time and on time is late. Being tardy to school is not an option. So there is a lot of "please try and move quickly......I'm setting the timer for you to eat breakfast......please turn your body away from the mirror so that you can brush your teeth instead of watching yourself dance.....please put your shoes on......please put your shoes on.....WHYYYYY are your shoes STILL not on?....." and around and around we go. EVERY morning I wake up and spend a little time with Jesus and sip my coffee and say "I am refreshed! Today is going to be a GREAT day!" and then the kids wake up and that optimism is completely shot within a 45 minute window. And the common denominator. Its me. Ouch. It's totally me. The kids haven't changed. They are actually protesting change. I'm the one that has grown less patient and a lot louder and maybe not as chipper in the mornings. And so how do I fix me? I have to figure out the problem and go from there, right? The problem is control. That I can't stand and it makes my skin crawl that I can't manipulate their tiny little bodies to move at the pace I am requiring of them. It drives me insane that they are just as independent as I am (wait.....didn't I pray for that once?). I have a problem with control. So Monday morning, Jake took the boys to school and I opened my Bible. I had NO idea where the Lord was leading me and its a very rare occasion that I just say "show me what you have for me in here". But on Monday, I did. I was too worn out to even have a plan. And the Lord led me to the book of Job.
I know this story. Who doesn't know the story of Job. Greatest man in all the land. Blameless. Supremely blessed. Satan approached the Lord after wandering the earth and he asked about Job. He asked God if Job feared Him for just reason or not because he had been SO blessed by the Lord. God had never taken anything away from him, how could he truly fear and honor God when only good things had happened to him. So the Lord allowed Job to be tested. But this is not the part of the story that I felt led to on Monday. Chapter 38 the Lord speaks to Job "out of the storm". Chapters 38, 39 and the beginning of Chapter 40 are God speaking to Job of His great works. He details the majesty and wonder of His perfect creation.....
"where were you when I laid the earths foundation? Tell me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone - while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy? Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from its womb, when I made the clouds its garment and wrapped it in thick darkness, when I fixed limits for it and set its doors and bars in place, when I said 'This far you may come and farther; here is where your proud waves halt'? "Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place, that it might take the earth by the edges and shake the wicked out of it?" Job 38:8-12
There is so much more past these verses. Keep reading. I felt like a kid again. The imagery and intricate detail and beauty.....its all there. And God is reminding Job of the things He has done, to lead to this......"Do you have an arm like Gods, and can your voice thunder like His? Then adorn yourself with glory and splendor, and clothe yourself in honor and majesty. Unleash the fury of your wrath, look at every proud man and bring him low, look at every proud man and humble him, crush the wicked where they stand. Bury them all in the dust together; shroud their faces in the grave. Then, I myself will admit to you that your own right hand can save you." Job 40:9-14
God led me to this scripture to remind me......my own desire for control is STUPID. Why would I not want the creator of the universe to have control when He alone, can save me. I am powerless without Him. My own right hand is useless to me, if it isn't holding His. HE alone can crush the wicked. He alone would become a man and redeem me through death on a cross and HE alone, would subsequently crush evil under His heal. I can do none of those things. Who am I? I am loved. I am fought for. I am upheld by the same God that gave the stallion its mane. The same God that threw things into orbit and put snow caps on the mountains. The same God that created me in my mothers womb and knit me together perfectly. The same God that knit my children together, perfectly, in all of their slowness. I must allow God to control my life, so that my children will know that it is not Mom or Dad or themselves that must control their lives, but God. I must exhibit humility and surrender, in order for them to exhibit the same character.
Touche, God. Touche.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Oily.
This has been one of those weeks. One of those weeks that I started off completely unsuspecting of the trauma that would unfold. One of those weeks that I realized, for the buzillionth time, the hugeness of the battle we all fight every day.
This post will be pretty short and sweet tonight. There's no way to fluff it up or sugar coat. We are all fighting the devil. Every single soul you see is fighting a battle. I forget sometimes how hard he is willing to fight. I forget sometimes to recognize what I'm fighting and call it like it is. He wants you. He wants your marriage. He wants your spouse. He covets your husbands. They are leading your home aren't they? Take down the leader and the rest will follow is his theory. He wants you, moms. He drools over the idea of you throwing in the towel with that one child of yours that presses your every single button every single day. He lusts over you trusting your "good child" so much that you loose the reins too much. And he wants those children. He wants the small ones and the big ones. Red, yellow, black and white. He wants them young and he wants them old. We focus on this army that Jesus is building. There is an army rising up! And as parents we have on repeat in our minds "train a child up in the way he should go and he will never depart from it". And we forget.....there is another army being formed. There are souls being won for the greater evil and not the greater good. He wants you. He wants every tiny Jesus loving part of you.
Husbands, put on your fight faces. Battle that battle for the woman you fell in love with however long ago. Date her. Make her fall in love again. Tell her she's the most beautiful girl in the world. Dads, load up your spiritual weapons for your kids. They look to you for the weapons for their own arsenals. Show them the tools they need to go to war. Fight, wives. Fight hard. Pray over your husbands. Lay hands on him as he sleeps, as he drives, as he worships in church on Sunday mornings. Moms, fight. Fight like you always wanted to be fought for. Fight because you love them enough to fight for them. Fight because if you don't do it.....no one will. You are their example. You are the glue until they can stand firm enough on Jesus to let Him be the glue. Walk through your house and anoint every door with oil. (Here's a helpful link and Biblical reference on anointing with oil.... http://ag.org/top/Beliefs/topics/gendoct_12_sick.cfm ) Remind ol' devil where he belongs. When you rise in the morning, remind him, ain't nobody got time for you today, devil! Get under my feet!
Fighting is hard. I don't know about ya'll but I'm exhausted. I can write this tonight because I fought all week long. I feel like I've been fighting for weeks on end. I've been fighting myself. Because I was too prideful to recognize who I was really fighting, to lay it all down, and find peace and rest in knowing, the end battle is won. Jesus paid it all.
When I wake up tomorrow, I will put on my armor. And walk my family through fire with oily hands and crazy worship hands and hands laid all over them in prayer. We're all in this fight. Every last one of us. Claim victory over the enemy in your house today. He comes to destroy you. Remind him of who will crush his head under His heel.
***Side Note: find Praise Assembly of God, Beaufort, SC on Facebook. Tomorrow, the sermon from today should be posted. Watch it. Pastor Jamie brought the word with passion!***
This post will be pretty short and sweet tonight. There's no way to fluff it up or sugar coat. We are all fighting the devil. Every single soul you see is fighting a battle. I forget sometimes how hard he is willing to fight. I forget sometimes to recognize what I'm fighting and call it like it is. He wants you. He wants your marriage. He wants your spouse. He covets your husbands. They are leading your home aren't they? Take down the leader and the rest will follow is his theory. He wants you, moms. He drools over the idea of you throwing in the towel with that one child of yours that presses your every single button every single day. He lusts over you trusting your "good child" so much that you loose the reins too much. And he wants those children. He wants the small ones and the big ones. Red, yellow, black and white. He wants them young and he wants them old. We focus on this army that Jesus is building. There is an army rising up! And as parents we have on repeat in our minds "train a child up in the way he should go and he will never depart from it". And we forget.....there is another army being formed. There are souls being won for the greater evil and not the greater good. He wants you. He wants every tiny Jesus loving part of you.
Husbands, put on your fight faces. Battle that battle for the woman you fell in love with however long ago. Date her. Make her fall in love again. Tell her she's the most beautiful girl in the world. Dads, load up your spiritual weapons for your kids. They look to you for the weapons for their own arsenals. Show them the tools they need to go to war. Fight, wives. Fight hard. Pray over your husbands. Lay hands on him as he sleeps, as he drives, as he worships in church on Sunday mornings. Moms, fight. Fight like you always wanted to be fought for. Fight because you love them enough to fight for them. Fight because if you don't do it.....no one will. You are their example. You are the glue until they can stand firm enough on Jesus to let Him be the glue. Walk through your house and anoint every door with oil. (Here's a helpful link and Biblical reference on anointing with oil.... http://ag.org/top/Beliefs/topics/gendoct_12_sick.cfm ) Remind ol' devil where he belongs. When you rise in the morning, remind him, ain't nobody got time for you today, devil! Get under my feet!
Fighting is hard. I don't know about ya'll but I'm exhausted. I can write this tonight because I fought all week long. I feel like I've been fighting for weeks on end. I've been fighting myself. Because I was too prideful to recognize who I was really fighting, to lay it all down, and find peace and rest in knowing, the end battle is won. Jesus paid it all.
When I wake up tomorrow, I will put on my armor. And walk my family through fire with oily hands and crazy worship hands and hands laid all over them in prayer. We're all in this fight. Every last one of us. Claim victory over the enemy in your house today. He comes to destroy you. Remind him of who will crush his head under His heel.
***Side Note: find Praise Assembly of God, Beaufort, SC on Facebook. Tomorrow, the sermon from today should be posted. Watch it. Pastor Jamie brought the word with passion!***
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Trash Day
If you think about it, Moms are daily inundated with more than we realistically can handle. Men have this incredible ability to compartmentalize their lives. They are the waffles of the world with the syrup sitting neatly inside each tiny square. And here we are, the pancakes, with our buttery, syrup mess spread all over everything and making everything sticky. Realistically, we cannot handle more syrup. There is only so much pancake. BUT, we just keep.pouring.it.on. Here are just a few of the actual thoughts that can run through my head in any given 1 minute time frame........
**When I say "you" I am definitely referring to "me", but it makes me feel better to say it in an accusatory tone**
-Are you killing your family and cursing them to a long slow death of stomach tumors and food allergies every time you feed them white bread or non-organic vegetables?
-Are you killing your family every time you give them Tylenol or Advil?
-Are you killing your kids emotionally every time you lose your patience?
-Are you killing yourself every time you forget to go to the gym for the last 7 years?
-Are you killing your dog by feeding them cornmeal by-product in their dog food that costs $80 a month? (WHAT?!!!!)
-Are you killing your marriage by not taking care of yourself and maintaining your appearance for your husband?
-Are you killing your marriage by taking care of your appearance but subsequently killing your family budget in the process?
-Are you killing your spirituality by caring about appearances enough to consider that you could be killing your marriage by not caring?
-Are you killing your kids futures by not giving them a participation trophy every time they breathe in and out on their own?
-Are you killing their sense of humility and creating sociopathic narcissists by building their self confidence?
-Are you killing their brain cells with technology?
-Are you killing their hopes of a job by not allowing them to advance technologically with the world around them?
(Basically. We are all murderers.)
I could go on for days. If women spend any amount of time online, watching tv, at the gym, on FB, at the yuppie playground, farmers market, shopping, at the pet store.....every single place we go, we are surrounded by everything telling us exactly what we are doing wrong. Its EXHAUSTING. And yeah, some of these issues are big. Some of them aren't things we should spend our brain cells mulling over. But what happens when we allow ourselves to drown in the stuff that can easily suffocate us, is that when a REAL issue, when something HUGE rocks your family, you don't enough left in the tank to devote to dealing with the real issue. And then what happens? Shame. Guilt. What am I doing wrong? Why can't I handle this? Moms every single day all over the world are doing this and here I am, not doing it. And that doubt leads us to isolation. We quit social media and we turn to our spouses and our kids (who, by the way, have no desire at all to be your only friend......you make them tired) and then we complain that we don't have anyone to talk to because we've talked and talked and talked. And talk is what got us to this point anyways. We isolate ourselves for the sake of saving ourselves from being talked about.....and then all we do is talk about ourselves. And then, we say we don't want to talk about it. This is where I am. I have overwhelmed by noise. By things that don't matter. I am distracted from being distracted because even my distractions are distracted! And because of this.....I had no idea how quickly the pieces were falling apart.
For the last 2 weeks, every time I am in the car, and when I say "every" I mean EVERY SINGLE TIME to a point that I'm looking around for Big Brother and developing a conspiracy theory in my head, every single time I am in the car, this song by Laura Story plays.....
I've been doing all that I can
To hold it all together
Piece by piece.
I've been feeling like a failure,
Trying to be braver
Than I could ever be.
It's just not me.
So be my healer, be my comfort, be my peace.
Cause I can be broken, I can be needy,
Lord I need You now to be,
Be my God, so I can just be me.
I've been living like an orphan,
Trying to belong here,
But it's just not my home.
I've been holding on so tightly,
To all the things that I think
Could satisfy my soul.
But I'm letting go...
So be my father, my mighty warrior, be my king.
Cause I can be scattered, frail and shattered,
Lord I need You now to be,
Be my God, so I can just be me.
Cause I was lost in this dark world
Until I was finally found in You
So now I'm needing, desperately pleading
Oh Lord, be all to me
And be my savior, be my lifeline, won't You be my everything.
Cause I'm so tired of trying to be someone
I was never meant to be
Be my God
Please be my God
Be my God
So I can just be me
So I can just be me
I can just be me.
I've been trying to hold this life together. I've been filling my mind with mindless chatter and trying to be SUPER wife, mom, therapist, launderer, artist, dress maker (don't ask), tutu craftsmen, baker, chef, Pinterest professional, did I say therapist? (oy), and the list goes on......in an effort to avoid the issue. I've been putting my emphasis on these people inside of my house that need me instead of putting the emphasis on the ONE that I need. I am of no value to them without God. I've been wondering why I'm falling apart. I've been wondering why I can't be strong and hopeful and courageous and joyful in my affliction and why can't I sweep these egg shells that I've been walking on out from under my feet. And the only answer I can find, the only answer that makes any sense........is that nowhere in the list of people I've been trying to be......nowhere did I have listed, "carried, saved, rescued, redeemed, faithful, patient, child of the King". I've been trying to do it all. I've been trying to control it all. I've been trying to push Him out because faith is hard and obedience is harder and not knowing is the worst and while I stomp my foot, let me say, I don't like it. But whether I like it or not, without these things, I'm drowning. My faith cannot stand when "Oceans rise". MY FEET WILL FAIL ME EVERY SINGLE TIME if my eyes aren't focused on the One who told me to take the steps.
So it's time to clean house. Take your mom guilt and your pet owner shame and your Victorias Secret catalog full of women that need to eat a whole bunch of processed food that I will NEVER look like because the good Lord gave me a big ol' booty and child bearing hips and get out. I don't have time for you. Not because I really really like oreos and not because I don't care.....but because with you in my head, there's no room for God. With all of your noise, it is not possible to hear that still, small voice that will never fail me. With your guilt in my head of everything I'm doing wrong, there's no room for God's affirmations of the things I'm doing right and the reasons that He loves me, REGARDLESS of my answers to all of the above questions. With all of the distractions in this life about the things that don't matter, I am choosing the things that do matter. So that for right now, as our family walks out this huge, really hard stuff, I can be as valuable as God needs me to be and as valuable as He created me to be. Less syrup. More pancake.
Join me. Clean house. Take out the trash. Find what it is that God has entrusted you with that is what needs your focus NOW. I can almost promise, you will find, the thing He has entrusted to you, that is of the greatest value, is your relationship with Him.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Great Expectations
This is actually the third night in a row that I've written this post. The first time I wrote it, I had just finished reading a few other blogs that had gone viral and I had these grandiose ideas of maybe one day, mine doing the same.....so I found the scripture to back every point and by the time I got to the end of the post, I had a whole lot of scripture, and none of me. The second time I wrote it, my dreams of virility were slightly smaller but yesterday was a hard day and well, nobody has time for Debbie Downer. And there's tonight. God says to write.....because this is what He gave me. Even if nobody reads it.....I have to use what He gave me.
Any time I sit down and exercise my brain enough to write a post, it's because I'm working something out in my soul. Topics usually haunt me for a couple of weeks before I make the decision to write and I have finally learned that when that happens it's always 1 of 2 things......it's either the devil trying to distract/hurt/guilt/condemn me or it's the Holy Spirit laying that conviction on thick. Needless to say, I serve an amazing, relentless God who has kept after me on this one for WAY more than a couple of weeks. But only in the last 4 months have I been forced to face and attempt to deal with the monster of my "great expectations".
In the last 4 months (yes, since David has been home), God has taken a whole lot of really ugly stuff that I had shoved down deep into the darkest parts of my being, and He's attached bobbers to them. They are floating around on the surface now, bobbing up and down and surfacing every few seconds, on display, vulnerable, asking to get baited. Some of the things I struggle with....anger, resentment, bitterness, selfishness, laziness AND disappointment. Those first several things, ok. I can talk my way through those. There have been offenses and words spoken and actions taken and I have held onto them, and I have battled myself with entitlement and acting like the world owed me something and allowing myself to be selfish and bitter and I've found every single possible reason under the sun to justify why I can't possibly fit time into my schedule to take care of my physical fitness in an effort to facilitate my laziness. Problem solved. But then there's this disappointment thing. And when I think about it, and its root, it's a recurring theme in so many hard times in my life. And its this thing.....this is the hard one. I have great expectations. Of situations. Of people. Of myself. I set unattainable standards for the people around me. And then get disappointed when they are unable to meet them. I've done it with Jake for our entire marriage. It's heart breaking to love someone that you feel like you will never be good enough for. That's what he tells me. I'm the oppressor. I've done it with Cole and Zella. I have loved them with the most selfish kind of parenting love. I have parented them with the expectation of a return. Of them noticing the clean laundry or the new recipe or the extra book that I read but didn't really want to read. Of them growing up and being smart and successful and attributing said success to the one that held it all together for them. Mom. And then David came along. And this transition has been long and hard and it has not been what I expected. At all. And here's what David has taught me........I am selfish. David came to this family with NOTHING to offer. It has taken me 4 months of examining to figure out why love with him feels so different. It has taken me that long to figure out why it literally hurts. Because David is a small me.......needing to be rescued. Needing to be loved and to learn to love himself.
I had never considered my emptiness that first time I sat at the feet of Jesus and begged for redemption. I had never pondered the fact that I literally have nothing to offer the King of Kings. I am completely naked and empty handed every time I approach Him. But He wants every single bit of my ugly, 2 kids later, nakedness and emptiness. Because He wants to clothe me in dignity. He desires to fill me with promise and truth and hope and a quiet, strong spirit that stands firm when the devil prowls. He wants to equip me to be a grace monger. To clothe the naked and empty handed in the same dignity I have been afforded. He wants to love me Love me into finally loving myself. He wants to romance me into trusting that I was created with such care that I am beautiful and worthy. He wants me to have HOPE. He wants me to have so much hope, that I'm able to deliver that to other people that have nothing to offer.......like David.
The difference in expectation and in hope is their creator. Expectations are rooted in what we have created in our minds to be the perfect scenario. Hope is trusting that God, who is the creator of perfect scenarios, has included you in His plans. Expectations have an end. They are a small, finite moment in time. Hope endures. It pushes us through. Hope does not disappoint. Expectations disappoint. Almost every time. I have lived a life of disappointment, at my own hand. And I look around me all the time and wonder how many people are living inside their self created disappointment hell? How many people wake up every morning and say "today is going to be a GREAT day!" and they fully expect that.....but what if its not? What if the really great day that you anticipated really really sucks? What's left but disappointment? What about those people that tell you "well, just go into it expecting the worst"? Do you know me?! I am a Southern woman. Telling me to expect the worst is telling me to immediately jump to my fate of a heinous and untimely death. What if we just stopped expecting? What if when we wake up in the morning we say, "God, I'm here to take whatever it is that You have for me today. I hope that today is sunny and beautiful and goes my way. But if it doesn't, I hope You give me the wisdom to remember that Your plan is perfect, regardless of my emotions." If we could start each day like that......would our lives be as complicated as we make them when we wallow in disappointment? If we could live every single day remembering that we sit empty handed, and naked at the feet of a just God that loves us unconditionally, in spite of our inablity to return the value of His sacrifice, wouldn't we be able to better love ourselves and stop putting unreachable expectations on life that ultimately end in disappointment?
I want to try. I want to try to love my husband like that. I want to look at him every day and remember that he is a precious gift that was named and matched with me before there was even time. I want to hug my kids and not immediately wonder if their squeeze was intended to not be as tight as mine. I want to cook dinner as a service to my family, and not with the intention of a response from them about how it tastes. I want to look at David, and see the second chance that he embodies. I want to extend to him, exactly what has been extended to me. I want to wake up every day and know that God has not wasted this conviction on a naked, empty handed woman......but He has given this conviction to His daughter, whom He loves deeper than deep. Because He has plans for my life....plans full of HOPE and for a future. (Jer. 29:11)
Any time I sit down and exercise my brain enough to write a post, it's because I'm working something out in my soul. Topics usually haunt me for a couple of weeks before I make the decision to write and I have finally learned that when that happens it's always 1 of 2 things......it's either the devil trying to distract/hurt/guilt/condemn me or it's the Holy Spirit laying that conviction on thick. Needless to say, I serve an amazing, relentless God who has kept after me on this one for WAY more than a couple of weeks. But only in the last 4 months have I been forced to face and attempt to deal with the monster of my "great expectations".
In the last 4 months (yes, since David has been home), God has taken a whole lot of really ugly stuff that I had shoved down deep into the darkest parts of my being, and He's attached bobbers to them. They are floating around on the surface now, bobbing up and down and surfacing every few seconds, on display, vulnerable, asking to get baited. Some of the things I struggle with....anger, resentment, bitterness, selfishness, laziness AND disappointment. Those first several things, ok. I can talk my way through those. There have been offenses and words spoken and actions taken and I have held onto them, and I have battled myself with entitlement and acting like the world owed me something and allowing myself to be selfish and bitter and I've found every single possible reason under the sun to justify why I can't possibly fit time into my schedule to take care of my physical fitness in an effort to facilitate my laziness. Problem solved. But then there's this disappointment thing. And when I think about it, and its root, it's a recurring theme in so many hard times in my life. And its this thing.....this is the hard one. I have great expectations. Of situations. Of people. Of myself. I set unattainable standards for the people around me. And then get disappointed when they are unable to meet them. I've done it with Jake for our entire marriage. It's heart breaking to love someone that you feel like you will never be good enough for. That's what he tells me. I'm the oppressor. I've done it with Cole and Zella. I have loved them with the most selfish kind of parenting love. I have parented them with the expectation of a return. Of them noticing the clean laundry or the new recipe or the extra book that I read but didn't really want to read. Of them growing up and being smart and successful and attributing said success to the one that held it all together for them. Mom. And then David came along. And this transition has been long and hard and it has not been what I expected. At all. And here's what David has taught me........I am selfish. David came to this family with NOTHING to offer. It has taken me 4 months of examining to figure out why love with him feels so different. It has taken me that long to figure out why it literally hurts. Because David is a small me.......needing to be rescued. Needing to be loved and to learn to love himself.
I had never considered my emptiness that first time I sat at the feet of Jesus and begged for redemption. I had never pondered the fact that I literally have nothing to offer the King of Kings. I am completely naked and empty handed every time I approach Him. But He wants every single bit of my ugly, 2 kids later, nakedness and emptiness. Because He wants to clothe me in dignity. He desires to fill me with promise and truth and hope and a quiet, strong spirit that stands firm when the devil prowls. He wants to equip me to be a grace monger. To clothe the naked and empty handed in the same dignity I have been afforded. He wants to love me Love me into finally loving myself. He wants to romance me into trusting that I was created with such care that I am beautiful and worthy. He wants me to have HOPE. He wants me to have so much hope, that I'm able to deliver that to other people that have nothing to offer.......like David.
The difference in expectation and in hope is their creator. Expectations are rooted in what we have created in our minds to be the perfect scenario. Hope is trusting that God, who is the creator of perfect scenarios, has included you in His plans. Expectations have an end. They are a small, finite moment in time. Hope endures. It pushes us through. Hope does not disappoint. Expectations disappoint. Almost every time. I have lived a life of disappointment, at my own hand. And I look around me all the time and wonder how many people are living inside their self created disappointment hell? How many people wake up every morning and say "today is going to be a GREAT day!" and they fully expect that.....but what if its not? What if the really great day that you anticipated really really sucks? What's left but disappointment? What about those people that tell you "well, just go into it expecting the worst"? Do you know me?! I am a Southern woman. Telling me to expect the worst is telling me to immediately jump to my fate of a heinous and untimely death. What if we just stopped expecting? What if when we wake up in the morning we say, "God, I'm here to take whatever it is that You have for me today. I hope that today is sunny and beautiful and goes my way. But if it doesn't, I hope You give me the wisdom to remember that Your plan is perfect, regardless of my emotions." If we could start each day like that......would our lives be as complicated as we make them when we wallow in disappointment? If we could live every single day remembering that we sit empty handed, and naked at the feet of a just God that loves us unconditionally, in spite of our inablity to return the value of His sacrifice, wouldn't we be able to better love ourselves and stop putting unreachable expectations on life that ultimately end in disappointment?
I want to try. I want to try to love my husband like that. I want to look at him every day and remember that he is a precious gift that was named and matched with me before there was even time. I want to hug my kids and not immediately wonder if their squeeze was intended to not be as tight as mine. I want to cook dinner as a service to my family, and not with the intention of a response from them about how it tastes. I want to look at David, and see the second chance that he embodies. I want to extend to him, exactly what has been extended to me. I want to wake up every day and know that God has not wasted this conviction on a naked, empty handed woman......but He has given this conviction to His daughter, whom He loves deeper than deep. Because He has plans for my life....plans full of HOPE and for a future. (Jer. 29:11)
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