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.
Sunday, July 13, 2014
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Dads
I know this is the typical Father's Day post. Maybe. Ok, I don't know that. But I know that we spend most of our time talking about Moms. About how hard Moms work and about how a Moms work is never ever ever done. We spend a lot of time talking about women struggling with mourning their pre-Mom identity and finding a new identity in being a mother. We talk about the hurt that women endure when they aren't able to be moms. We don't talk a lot about Dads. The silent workhorses. The steady Eddy's. I want to talk about them. About my main men.
There are a lot of people in the world that feel short changed by their deadbeat dad. There truly are a lot of children that are losing out on certain parts of their life because of a man that walked away. And then there are children that are enjoying the fullness of life because of men that picked up those broken pieces. I am a part of the latter statistic. And to say that I'm blessed and grateful are gigantic understatements.
My biological father left when I was young. I don't know the whole story. The details have fallen apart as I've gotten older and I have forgiven him and can clearly see that God's plan for my life may have included his sperm, but it also included the influence of much greater men than the person that my bio dad was able to be. I was younger than Zella when my mom and bio dad divorced. I was too young to understand but old enough to know that what was happening wasn't positive and that I was losing someone in my life. He's the guy that I let hurt me for years and years. He's the guy that made broken promises and every single time he promised he would show up and he didn't, my little heart broke. Just a couple of years after he left God walked my step dad into our lives. I resisted at first because it was different. I didn't want 2 dads. I wanted the one that I knew to man up and come home. But Kenny knew that wasn't going to happen. And he worked so so hard to be every ounce of what bio dad never was. He worked hard to provide for us. When the time came for my sister and I to go to private school he was a golf pro by day, bartender by night and landscaper on the weekends. Just to pay tuition. Somewhere in between those jobs he managed to teach me how to catch a pop fly (not without a few busted chins), coach me through countless years of basketball and perfect my jump shot, cook meals for us (and announce what was for dinner in this TERRIBLE French accent), discipline us (y'all just don't know some of the shenanigans me and McCall got into), teach us the art of eating the chicken wing every Friday night, let us live a cultured life with trips to professional sporting events and fancy schmancy restaurants, be a total goofball when we needed to laugh, and a total sap when we needed to cry. I will always remember the look on his face on Christmas morning every year when bio dad would call. It was part defeat (because this guy just wouldn't go away!) and part anger, because he knew that his girls would get their hopes up, and that eventually we would be let down again. He wasn't super emotional. He was a tough guy. He parented us like he coached us. He would show us how and expect us to watch and learn and then fully expected us to do it on our own. He allowed us independence and when we couldn't handle it, he pulled the rope back in. Even into college days, when we would sneak in through the doggy door in the back, he would be in the recliner waiting for us. Because we were his girls. I remember this one night I was going on a date and I walked into the kitchen and he said "go change". He NEVER commented on my clothes. Ever. That was moms department. He never commented, until comment was needed. And he was quick to inform me that my skirt was too short. And that was not okay. I remember the night I missed curfew. By A WHOLE LOT. And when I got home he was standing on the other side of the front door, hands tucked behind his back like a drill instructor. There are few times that I have been that terrified in my life. And I never did it again. I'll never forget the first time he cried with me. My first serious boyfriend dumped and well, I was a 16 year old girl about it and did not handle it well. And this boy said some things to me on the phone one night that were just plain awful. And he had no idea that Kenny had picked up the phone and was listening. After that boy saw his life flash before his eyes, Kenny came in my bedroom crying. He sat on the edge of the bed with me and told me that I was never to talk to that guy again. Because no one, ever, in the history of ever, was allowed to speak to me that way. When I was in college and he almost lost me......he drove around with my picture next to the speedometer in his car. I don't know if he knew that I knew that. I lost almost 2 years with him. When he and my mom separated and things weren't exactly amicable I made judgements and mistakes. And I lost some great great years with him. But God is good. And when we reconciled, it was like no time was lost. We don't talk every day. We don't talk near enough. But I hope he knows that my childhood wouldn't have been much of one if it weren't for him. I hope he knows that the discipline I have in life today was learned as he taught me about perfecting my shot, my catch, my throw, my pitch. To never ever give up. To always get up and keep going. I can't put the memories all into this blog......but Kenny Conroy, you're a great dad.
And I don't just have a great dad. I have an incredible uncle. I was talking to my Granny this week and she said to me "I can remember carrying Ronnie around when he was a baby and praying that he would have children one day. And I hurt so bad for him that he didn't. But I know why. God knew that he would have his girls and he knew that Ronnie would need to take care of me." It broke my heart. I won't tell his story. It's not mine to tell. But I will say that he's a blessing, an influence, a force in my life. And I know that God knew. I know that God knew that my "unca Ronnie" would love us and care for us like we were his daughters. God knew his story before there was time. We had lunch today and the kids were being crazy and we still sat and talked for over an hour......after we stood outside in the parking lot talking for over an hour. I could talk to him for years and there would never be a lull. He's a wealth of knowledge and when I talk, he listens. He has a genuine interest in what's happening in my life. He gave me my first real job. He afforded me the opportunity to sow into a family business with his name on it and he taught me and answered my stupid questions and trusted me with his most valuable customers. He gave me confidence in showing me that he trusted me. For 8 years, every morning I would check in with him. I would stand in the doorway of his office and we'd laugh and talk and then every afternoon we'd stroll over to Granny's house together before saying goodbye for the afternoon. I loved working with him. We drove each other crazy some days. But that's love. That's how it works. And the next day, the waters were always calm and we had moved forward. I love this man. Because it drives me absolutely bananas how he gives until it hurts. And then gives a little more. When my Granddaddy was alive he had this blind faith in people. He always wanted to believe that there was good in them. And so many times that hurt him. And he didn't stop believing. And I see that in Uncle Ronnie. He wants to believe that there is good left in the world. He wants to believe that if he helps someone that it will genuinely help them.....it will lift their morale and pick up their spirit and change their mind about the state of their living. He gives and gives and gives. I love that about him. He's my guy when I have a car question, a business question, a financial question, a funny kid story, a funny Granny story, anything funny in general (we love to laugh together). He's the first one I call. And what totally melts my heart.......is that he's the first one that Jake calls now too. He's never NOT answered my calls. Ever. He's my encourager. We were at his house a few weeks ago and he pulled me aside and just said "you're a great mom" and hugged me. There were no words. Because in that exact moment I needed that so bad. He has walked with us through hard stuff. He's watched us fight through some things that I know hurt him so bad. And he was always there to offer advice, to sometimes bail us out, but to let us learn the same way that he did. He is my biggest fan. Always cheering me on. Even when he doesn't think it's the greatest idea.....he can see the light in my eyes when I'm excited or when I feel passionate and he fans the flame, in spite of his personal opinions. He sows into our kids just like he sows into us. All of them. Even when he thinks that collectively we have too many (wink wink). I could go on and on.....I won't. He knows. He knows that he holds this place in my heart. He knows that on Fathers Day we celebrate him, too. Thank you, Ron Nettles, for sowing into my life as if I were your daughter. I am forever grateful.
And then there's my #1. 9 years ago and 5 years ago and just under a year ago.......we found out we were going to be parents. Terror, excitement, more terror, and even more excitement each time. I remember every tiny detail of the physical pregnancies and the paper one and of all three "birthing" processes with Jake. He used to read to my belly every night when Cole was in utero. "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always.......". We would giggle with delight every time Elton Johns "Tiny Dancer" came on and Cole would dance in my belly. Jake was fascinated with my Zella belly. She was a big girl in utero and she would shift her weight and wiggle her butt and it was so horrible and beautiful at the same time. He false labored with me for two weeks before she arrived. That's love, people. God spoke to Jake when we first began our adoption process and told him there was a 5 year old boy waiting in Ukraine for us. Jake, the once fatherless, going across the world to find this fatherless child, and sent their by his Heavenly Father. The emotion is overwhelming considering those things. That God designed this man to be the father of these 3 children, even in their different circumstances. He picked Jake to parent them and He hand picked Jake to lead and guide them. It's incredible to know that I am married to a man that God reveres so highly. There are so many incredible "Father" memories I have of Jake.......but here are my most favorite things: he's a total goofball. Our kids LOVE laughing with Daddy. He teaches them to be independent. He shows them the way things work and explains things and then lets them try (even when Mom is maybe freaking out a little). He encourages them. He's the best at telling them how awesome they are and highlighting the great things they do. He's a really great snuggle/wrestling buddy. Snuggling always evolves into wrestling. He is constantly trying to be a better dad. Our kids don't see this yet. They don't hear the agony in his voice when he makes a daddy mistake. But I see it. And it's one of his best qualities. The desire to be better, for them. The desire to give more, for them. The desire to always work on being a better Christian so he can be a better dad.......because that's why he was given this job in the first place. Our children are blessed to call you Daddy, Jacob Kubnick. Thank you for giving them the best of what you have to offer.
I could have been a statistic. Another kid with a deadbeat dad. But God blessed me with two men to parent me.....and then turned around and blessed me with an incredible man to parent our children. If I tried to count my blessings, I would never have a single breath to do anything else. Here's to the men in the world that are "manning up" and are actually fathering children.......not just producing them, but actually guiding them. Whether they are biological, adopted, step children, nieces or nephews, grandkids, whatever.....thank you. Thank you for doing what so many choose not to do. You are heros.
There are a lot of people in the world that feel short changed by their deadbeat dad. There truly are a lot of children that are losing out on certain parts of their life because of a man that walked away. And then there are children that are enjoying the fullness of life because of men that picked up those broken pieces. I am a part of the latter statistic. And to say that I'm blessed and grateful are gigantic understatements.
My biological father left when I was young. I don't know the whole story. The details have fallen apart as I've gotten older and I have forgiven him and can clearly see that God's plan for my life may have included his sperm, but it also included the influence of much greater men than the person that my bio dad was able to be. I was younger than Zella when my mom and bio dad divorced. I was too young to understand but old enough to know that what was happening wasn't positive and that I was losing someone in my life. He's the guy that I let hurt me for years and years. He's the guy that made broken promises and every single time he promised he would show up and he didn't, my little heart broke. Just a couple of years after he left God walked my step dad into our lives. I resisted at first because it was different. I didn't want 2 dads. I wanted the one that I knew to man up and come home. But Kenny knew that wasn't going to happen. And he worked so so hard to be every ounce of what bio dad never was. He worked hard to provide for us. When the time came for my sister and I to go to private school he was a golf pro by day, bartender by night and landscaper on the weekends. Just to pay tuition. Somewhere in between those jobs he managed to teach me how to catch a pop fly (not without a few busted chins), coach me through countless years of basketball and perfect my jump shot, cook meals for us (and announce what was for dinner in this TERRIBLE French accent), discipline us (y'all just don't know some of the shenanigans me and McCall got into), teach us the art of eating the chicken wing every Friday night, let us live a cultured life with trips to professional sporting events and fancy schmancy restaurants, be a total goofball when we needed to laugh, and a total sap when we needed to cry. I will always remember the look on his face on Christmas morning every year when bio dad would call. It was part defeat (because this guy just wouldn't go away!) and part anger, because he knew that his girls would get their hopes up, and that eventually we would be let down again. He wasn't super emotional. He was a tough guy. He parented us like he coached us. He would show us how and expect us to watch and learn and then fully expected us to do it on our own. He allowed us independence and when we couldn't handle it, he pulled the rope back in. Even into college days, when we would sneak in through the doggy door in the back, he would be in the recliner waiting for us. Because we were his girls. I remember this one night I was going on a date and I walked into the kitchen and he said "go change". He NEVER commented on my clothes. Ever. That was moms department. He never commented, until comment was needed. And he was quick to inform me that my skirt was too short. And that was not okay. I remember the night I missed curfew. By A WHOLE LOT. And when I got home he was standing on the other side of the front door, hands tucked behind his back like a drill instructor. There are few times that I have been that terrified in my life. And I never did it again. I'll never forget the first time he cried with me. My first serious boyfriend dumped and well, I was a 16 year old girl about it and did not handle it well. And this boy said some things to me on the phone one night that were just plain awful. And he had no idea that Kenny had picked up the phone and was listening. After that boy saw his life flash before his eyes, Kenny came in my bedroom crying. He sat on the edge of the bed with me and told me that I was never to talk to that guy again. Because no one, ever, in the history of ever, was allowed to speak to me that way. When I was in college and he almost lost me......he drove around with my picture next to the speedometer in his car. I don't know if he knew that I knew that. I lost almost 2 years with him. When he and my mom separated and things weren't exactly amicable I made judgements and mistakes. And I lost some great great years with him. But God is good. And when we reconciled, it was like no time was lost. We don't talk every day. We don't talk near enough. But I hope he knows that my childhood wouldn't have been much of one if it weren't for him. I hope he knows that the discipline I have in life today was learned as he taught me about perfecting my shot, my catch, my throw, my pitch. To never ever give up. To always get up and keep going. I can't put the memories all into this blog......but Kenny Conroy, you're a great dad.
And I don't just have a great dad. I have an incredible uncle. I was talking to my Granny this week and she said to me "I can remember carrying Ronnie around when he was a baby and praying that he would have children one day. And I hurt so bad for him that he didn't. But I know why. God knew that he would have his girls and he knew that Ronnie would need to take care of me." It broke my heart. I won't tell his story. It's not mine to tell. But I will say that he's a blessing, an influence, a force in my life. And I know that God knew. I know that God knew that my "unca Ronnie" would love us and care for us like we were his daughters. God knew his story before there was time. We had lunch today and the kids were being crazy and we still sat and talked for over an hour......after we stood outside in the parking lot talking for over an hour. I could talk to him for years and there would never be a lull. He's a wealth of knowledge and when I talk, he listens. He has a genuine interest in what's happening in my life. He gave me my first real job. He afforded me the opportunity to sow into a family business with his name on it and he taught me and answered my stupid questions and trusted me with his most valuable customers. He gave me confidence in showing me that he trusted me. For 8 years, every morning I would check in with him. I would stand in the doorway of his office and we'd laugh and talk and then every afternoon we'd stroll over to Granny's house together before saying goodbye for the afternoon. I loved working with him. We drove each other crazy some days. But that's love. That's how it works. And the next day, the waters were always calm and we had moved forward. I love this man. Because it drives me absolutely bananas how he gives until it hurts. And then gives a little more. When my Granddaddy was alive he had this blind faith in people. He always wanted to believe that there was good in them. And so many times that hurt him. And he didn't stop believing. And I see that in Uncle Ronnie. He wants to believe that there is good left in the world. He wants to believe that if he helps someone that it will genuinely help them.....it will lift their morale and pick up their spirit and change their mind about the state of their living. He gives and gives and gives. I love that about him. He's my guy when I have a car question, a business question, a financial question, a funny kid story, a funny Granny story, anything funny in general (we love to laugh together). He's the first one I call. And what totally melts my heart.......is that he's the first one that Jake calls now too. He's never NOT answered my calls. Ever. He's my encourager. We were at his house a few weeks ago and he pulled me aside and just said "you're a great mom" and hugged me. There were no words. Because in that exact moment I needed that so bad. He has walked with us through hard stuff. He's watched us fight through some things that I know hurt him so bad. And he was always there to offer advice, to sometimes bail us out, but to let us learn the same way that he did. He is my biggest fan. Always cheering me on. Even when he doesn't think it's the greatest idea.....he can see the light in my eyes when I'm excited or when I feel passionate and he fans the flame, in spite of his personal opinions. He sows into our kids just like he sows into us. All of them. Even when he thinks that collectively we have too many (wink wink). I could go on and on.....I won't. He knows. He knows that he holds this place in my heart. He knows that on Fathers Day we celebrate him, too. Thank you, Ron Nettles, for sowing into my life as if I were your daughter. I am forever grateful.
And then there's my #1. 9 years ago and 5 years ago and just under a year ago.......we found out we were going to be parents. Terror, excitement, more terror, and even more excitement each time. I remember every tiny detail of the physical pregnancies and the paper one and of all three "birthing" processes with Jake. He used to read to my belly every night when Cole was in utero. "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always.......". We would giggle with delight every time Elton Johns "Tiny Dancer" came on and Cole would dance in my belly. Jake was fascinated with my Zella belly. She was a big girl in utero and she would shift her weight and wiggle her butt and it was so horrible and beautiful at the same time. He false labored with me for two weeks before she arrived. That's love, people. God spoke to Jake when we first began our adoption process and told him there was a 5 year old boy waiting in Ukraine for us. Jake, the once fatherless, going across the world to find this fatherless child, and sent their by his Heavenly Father. The emotion is overwhelming considering those things. That God designed this man to be the father of these 3 children, even in their different circumstances. He picked Jake to parent them and He hand picked Jake to lead and guide them. It's incredible to know that I am married to a man that God reveres so highly. There are so many incredible "Father" memories I have of Jake.......but here are my most favorite things: he's a total goofball. Our kids LOVE laughing with Daddy. He teaches them to be independent. He shows them the way things work and explains things and then lets them try (even when Mom is maybe freaking out a little). He encourages them. He's the best at telling them how awesome they are and highlighting the great things they do. He's a really great snuggle/wrestling buddy. Snuggling always evolves into wrestling. He is constantly trying to be a better dad. Our kids don't see this yet. They don't hear the agony in his voice when he makes a daddy mistake. But I see it. And it's one of his best qualities. The desire to be better, for them. The desire to give more, for them. The desire to always work on being a better Christian so he can be a better dad.......because that's why he was given this job in the first place. Our children are blessed to call you Daddy, Jacob Kubnick. Thank you for giving them the best of what you have to offer.
I could have been a statistic. Another kid with a deadbeat dad. But God blessed me with two men to parent me.....and then turned around and blessed me with an incredible man to parent our children. If I tried to count my blessings, I would never have a single breath to do anything else. Here's to the men in the world that are "manning up" and are actually fathering children.......not just producing them, but actually guiding them. Whether they are biological, adopted, step children, nieces or nephews, grandkids, whatever.....thank you. Thank you for doing what so many choose not to do. You are heros.
Saturday, May 31, 2014
The Kitchen Sink
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.)
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.)
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!***
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