Every Good and Perfect Gift

A friend of mine was telling a group of us about a friend of hers who was very blessed with material things.  She then went on to say that she was also blessed with two perfect and perfectly behaved children.

And this got me to stop and think:

If this woman is 'blessed' to have two 'perfect and perfectly behaved' children, then am I not blessed because my children are not all 'perfect' and 'perfectly behaved'?

Am I not blessed because I gave birth to two children with special needs?  Are we, then, as a family, not fortunate?  Not beloved?  Not chosen?

But James 1:17 states clearly:

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father...who does not change like shifting shadows. (NIV)

Now, I am going to go out on a limb here and say, if every good and perfect gift comes from the Father, then I choose to believe that every gift from the Father is good and perfect.

We cannot dispute that fact that our children are gifts, and from where else do gifts such as these come except from the Father?

Which to me means, dear friends, that my children, with all of their struggles, are good and perfect, designed as they were intended to be designed, with life, beauty, and a purpose,

and so are yours.

This doesn't mean that every day will be a perfect day.

This doesn't mean that bad things won't happen.

This doesn't mean that they won't make bad decisions sometimes...a lot of times...seemingly always.

And it certainly doesn't mean that it will be easy.

But it does mean that we are blessed.

All of us, with our perfectly 'imperfect' children,

Are blessed,  most definitely

Blessed.

Finding Focus

I walk laps back and forth past the coffee dispensers that are perpetually set up at Trader Joe's with my loads of crates of cheese and flat carts full of boxes product that need to be put on the shelf.

I glance at the clock.  It's only 6 PM, and I know that I will be here at least until midnight.  I'm running on little sleep because we've been working late, I haven't been able to get to sleep when I get home, and I've been getting up early to get people to where they need to be.  There's no two ways about it;  I'm tired.  I can almost hear the coffee calling out to me, but I turn a deaf ear and continue on my path

Because it's lent, and this year, I've given up coffee. 

Last year, it was sweets, but this year, with this job that keeps me up all night, I chose to give up coffee.  

But why?  

A group of women at our church are going through Beth Moore's Bible study on the book of Daniel called Lives of Integrity, Words of Prophecy (Lifeway Press, 2006).  In the study guide, Beth has been talking a lot about the fallacy of building ourselves up and directing the glory of our lives toward ourselves rather than the One who created us, and the dangerous temptation of pride.  She talks about how pride is a state of mind and how we can become as proud of our sacrifices as we are of our worldly goods and successes.  

In Day 1 of Week 4 in the study guide, Beth said that one day she was talking to a friend of hers and was embarrassed to admit that she had never participated in a certain 40 day fast that so many others had.  And her friend answered her and said that she had rarely seen anyone come from a 40 day fast who wasn't sooner or later proud of it.  

Ouch.  That hit home.  

Why am I giving up coffee?  

I guess the proper answer would be that I am withholding something from myself so that when I feel a craving or a desire for it, I remember the suffering of Christ and lean on Him through prayer to help me get through it.  And for many, that is exactly what they are doing.  And it works for them.  

But I think that the real truth for me in this is that I am not the one who's suffering!  I don't depend on coffee as an everyday thing to get me through, I just use the caffeine to get me over a hump when I know that I'm just too tired to really function well.  So, in reality, it would seem that it would be those around me who are suffering because I am being short or snippy with them because my eyes are burning from pure lack of sleep!  Otherwise, I only drink coffee because I enjoy it.  

And do I really have an ulterior motive?  I often give up coffee or sweets or whatever for a period of time just to do it to remind myself that I control what I put in my body, and to keep my system from becoming dependent on any one thing.  

So how is this bringing me closer to God?  

And how do I, as a mother of 5 who works full time at night, not come across as sounding smug when I say that I am giving up coffee in this Starbucks-driven society?  

So this year, I doing something different.  Instead of focusing on giving up, I am focusing on staying focused. 

I want to focus on Christ's walk to the cross.  I want to focus on sacrifice and giving.  I want to focus on loving the people that I love.  I want to focus on supporting my friends and showing compassion.  

And if that means sitting down across from my husband, holding his hand and telling him I love him over a cup of coffee, so be it.

And if that means taking stock of my burning red eyes in the mirror in the bathroom where I've run for a minute's peace, then marching myself to the kitchen to get a jolt of caffeine so I can be kinder to my children, so be it.  

And if that means sitting with you, my friend, at a banged up kitchen table commiserating over a steaming cup of joe so that you can feel supported, loved, and not quite so alone, so be it.  

But I will do it with focus.  It will be a conscious decision made with care, not just a paper cup of the stuff thrown back on my way into the backroom.  So yes, I am cutting back, but I'm not saying no altogether.  It will be planned and executed in a way that calls to mind Christ's walk to the cross, and His ultimate sacrifice so that I can keep the focus where it needs to be.  Not on my sacrifice, but on His.

His sacrifice that has given me life.  A life to live, and a life to enjoy

A life in which to mindfully enjoy my coffee.

Breathing Easy

I can still feel it, you know, a tinge, an itch, a tingle in my flesh in that spot where almost 19 months ago the doctor drew his scalpel across my abdomen to pull from my body the struggling form of our tiny daughter who had been nestled there under my heart for just 24 short weeks.

My body has healed, and I am well, and she has grown into a 17 pound cruising little girl,

but we both still bear the scars.

I, the scar of a pregnancy ended too soon, of a baby not held in my arms or to my breast for too long, of an infancy marked with doctors' appointments and g-tubes, nasal cannula and syringes instead of sweet smelling baby skin next to mine while cuddling on the couch.

And she, the almost 19 month old who is still learning to walk and doesn't talk, she carries scars of her own:  the fear of public sink and paper towel sounds, because that always meant someone was going to do something to her, the desire to sleep in her bed, not in my arms, because that's what she was used to for so long, and the small round hole that holds the tube that gives her nourishment.

But there is one scar, one trial, that can now begin to heal and fade.  One sound we can begin to forget and have it only brought back when we hear a similar puff-and-sigh rhythm somewhere else and we have to go through our memory files to remember what it is that noise reminds us of.  There is one set of tubing that we can give away, give back, give up, pass on...

And one large tank that hung across my back for so long weighing me down at the same time it gave my little girl on my chest life.

Friends, all of you out there who prayed over us and over our sweet baby Hazel Grace,

Dear, dear friends,

It is with great joy and utmost thankfulness that I tell you that Hazel Grace, our mirco-preemie, one pound seven ounce 24 weeker, has been discontinued off her oxygen!

Yes!  You heard right!  Hazel Grace is done with the cannula!  Done with the sighing condenser dragon that hangs out in our living room, and done with the oxygen tanks!  She is done with cannula taped to her face, and done with tubes dragging behind her!

I know that a lot of you have seen us around without her tubes and tanks, but it wasn't until she had passed a full month and a half plus gone through a cold without needing the supplemental oxygen that her pulmonologist officially took her off the oxygen.

And on Thursday, I think the sun will shine a bit brighter over our house, and our house will feel a little bit lighter because Moses, our oxygen delivery man, will come not to deliver, but to take away!

And what joy will  be mine in the giving!

What I Meant to Say Was...

I don't want to be a super-mom.

I never saw in the job description that I would have two special needs kids that completely blow out the window any parenting skills that I may have ever thought that I had.

I never signed on to train to practically be a nurse just so I could care for my baby.

I never read in the fine print that mental issues will take over your life and that of your whole family.  It was never explained to me that I would lose friends and push away family merely by giving birth to a child who has a mood disregulation.

I never thought to study pharmacology just so I could pronounce the names of the contents of my refrigerator and cabinet.

It didn't occur to me to set up a nursery with a special place for oxygen tanks and a plethora of syringes and tubes.

I didn't choose to have The Bipolar Child as my nightly read because it has a nice cover.

It never crossed my mind that I would learn to drive in DC by force because I would need to make the trek in and out of the city multiple times a month, sometimes more than once a week, with my baby in tow because she has more specialists than a cat has fleas.

But here we are.  And this is what I do.  And this is who I am.

And I am no more of a super-mom than you are.

You, whose husband is in the military.

You, whose son is far far away.

You, who is starting working again for the first time and leaving your tiny baby at home.

You, who tries to work at home while the kids tangle in the background.

You, who struggles with too much on her plate, but not wanting to say no to anyone.

You, whose mother is sick.

You, who is in school and handles your kids on your own.

All of you out there. All of you mothers and women and caretakers and givers,

I am no more of a super-mom than you are.

And I don't want that title, anyway.  It's too much to live up to, too much to be.

I just want to be me:  a wife, a mother,

And a friend.

Your friend.

I want to sit across the table from you, leaning on my elbows while sipping a cup of coffee, and listen to you.  I want listen, and I want to affirm what you are doing, because you are doing a great work.

And then I want you to listen to me, too.  And all I want is for you to affirm what I am doing, too, and tell me that I, too, am doing a great work.  I am not asking for answers, a solution, or really even understanding, just empathy, and a bit of affirmation, that's all.

And so, ladies of the Monday morning Women's Bible study, if you are reading this, this is what I meant to say:

By God's grace, I have the power to get up in the morning, and by God's grace, I have the energy to deal with the day presented before me.  I am not a super-mom, but I serve a Super-God, and I am glad to be here.

The Kindest Cut

When I was pregnant with Hazel Grace, I wanted to get my hair cut.  I had wanted to go the the salon in Springfield called The Kindest Cut so that I could donate my hair and get a free cut to boot.

But then I was sick with Hazel and it never happened.

So when I realized that Hazel was going to come home imminently and that I still had long, unmanageable hair, I knew that if I didn't go and get my hair cut before she came home, I would not have the opportunity to do it for who knows how long.

Then I realized that both Elizabeth and Jo had incredibly long hair as well, and so all three of us decided to go and get our hair cut and donated to Locks of Love, which is a foundation that makes wigs for children with illnesses that cause them to lose their hair.

Jo was very excited to cut and donate her hair since she was familiar with Children's Hospital in DC since that's where Hazel was, and she had seen some of the sick children in the halls when we had gone to visit Hazel.  She was happy to be able to do something tangible for the kids.

This is what Jo started with:

 Then it was braided,  

cut,

washed,

 shaped,

dried,

and oh, my!

It turned out a bit curlier than we expected, but she loves it, and it's pretty much out of her face, so I'm not complaining!

This is what Elizabeth and I started out with:

and we got the same treatment as Jo

These are Elizabeth's braids

and her final 'do'

and these are my braids

and my final look!

Cheese!

On Her Tummy

I got to go and see Hazel Grace today.

Not that that's something amazing, because I get to go see her every day, but in reality, it really is kind of amazing because that means that she is there for me to see...

every day.

And I praise God for that.

My tiny Hazel was sleeping on her little tummy today when I got there to see her.  She looked so peaceful there with her little legs tucked under her and one hand under her little cheek, that I didn't want to disturb her or wake her by touching her, so I just let her sleep and I just watched.

Yesterday, I got to change her diaper and help the nurse take care of her.  It was amazing and nerve-wracking at the same time.  She's just so tiny and seems so fragile and I am so afraid of doing something wrong.

But I know I have to practice and become comfortable with who she is because it is who she is and no matter how she grows or how she matures, this is still who she is...

right here...

right now.

A miracle never to be forgotten.

But today, I did not do much of anything but sit and watch her breathe.  I found myself not actually being able to believe that she is our baby.  Her perfect self is just so tiny.  How did I...we...make something like this?

She is divinely orchestrated,  Her form and her timing...

breathe in...breathe out.

Finally, I can't resist it anymore.  I have to touch.

I must reach in and cradle that tiny downy head.

I slip her little door open and reach in.

One hand, one little head, two hearts beating, hers and mine...

one love.

She remains calm as I cup her head, her softness warm against my fingers,

and she rests on.

When the nurse comes to draw blood for the check they do every 3 hours, the respiratory specialist and the one she reports to are incredulous at the results.

The results are so good...can they be true?

I keep cradling my Hazel Grace and the nurses lower her oxygen levels in response to the good results.

She is doing well.  The monitors beep slightly less.

Do you know me, Hazel Grace?

Am I imprinted on you like you are on me?

Do you feel me here?  Does my presence calm you like my watching your tiny chest rise and fall calms me?

But I can't stay forever, little Hazel.  I have to go.

And I have to leave you here.

But you are in good hands, and I will be back.

Until then, sweet baby, sleep in peace...

your mother and your Father are watching you

because you are fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14)

Putting it all in Perspective

Some of you have been asking to see pictures of baby Hazel.  And it is not that we are trying to hide her from the world, nor that she has some sort of deformity that we are keeping under wraps,

it is more that we are not sure that people will understand.  We do not want the beauty that is our Hazel Grace to be obscured by a photo that is misunderstood.

In talking to people, and actually in some cases, it doesn't seem to matter if they have seen a picture of our precious gift or not, I have realized that most people have no idea the size and form of a 24 week gestational baby.

For which I do not blame anyone.

A baby of this size should be hidden deep within to be knit in the private recesses of a mother's womb, safe under her heart.

But our little Hazel could not wait to meet the world, so meet the world she did.

And I want to help you all gain a little perspective on her.  I feel that through my writing, you have all been able to gain a little insight in the her that is her but not so much in the design of her.

Make sense?

So, let me help you.

This...


is not our Hazel Grace.  This is a pretty close to newborn full term baby.

This...

is not our Hazel Grace.  This baby was born at almost 36 weeks gestation.

This....

is getting closer, but this is not our Hazel Grace.  This baby was born at 29 weeks.

And this...

Well, this isn't our Hazel Grace, but this is a baby that was born at 24 weeks, just like her.

To put a size on it all, here's another picture of the same baby...



Tiny.  Beautiful, but tiny.

Hazel Grace's diapers are the size of a deck of playing cards...and they are way too big for her.  The mask that covers her nose to help her breathe?  The size of the tip of your pinky finger.

Hold out your hand, palm up.  Hazel Grace would fit in your hand with the back of her head on the end of your middle finger and her feet resting comfortably on your wrist.

Tiny.

But strong.

She is doing well today.  She is still on the ventilator, but she is doing well.

And I will put up pictures of our actual Hazel Grace soon.

Soon, but not yet.

My heart can't handle it yet.

Heavy

I feel heavy.

My steps are heavy and slow.  The pain from the gash, from the hole they carved in my flesh to bring baby Hazel to light, to safety, throbs...a tangible reminder of what I have,

and what I have lost.

This was to be our last child, Jimmy's and mine.  Baby Hazel was a surprise, and we knew that this was to be the last time I would experience pregnancy and childbirth.

And I intended to savor it.

I am one of those weird ones, I guess.   I love being pregnant, and I look forward, in a way, to the pain of labor and the pushing and the searing and the slip sliding baby bloody on my chest.

The wonder.

But I didn't ever get that.  And now it's done. Almost from the time that I knew that I was pregnant through the 5 short months that I held Hazel inside me under my heart, I suffered.  I never got the swelling belly.  I never got the energetic 2nd trimester.  I never got the carefree time of being pregnant.

And now it's over.  And I'm sad.

No...I'm mad.

Is that selfish?  Am I being thoughtless for thinking that way?

Don't get me wrong.  I am happy that baby Hazel is out.  My womb was a death sentence for both of us.  A sentence that would have been carried out in mere hours had she not been taken from me.  I know that given the circumstances, there is no better place that she could be,

but why?

I throw that question to heaven, to God.  And He catches it and cradles it.   He tells me to walk on.  He tells me that He has great things in store for me.  He has plans to prosper me and not to harm me.  Plans to give both me and Hazel hope

and a future (Jer 29:11)

But where, God?

Where is our future?  Is our future together?  Me and Hazel and Jimmy and the kids?

Or is it plans to take Hazel to Himself?

So I am heavy.  My body is heavy.  My breasts, filled with milk for one who can't nurse, are heavy.

And my heart is heaviest of all.

As soon as the doors to the NICU open, I can see her isolette straight ahead.  My throat tightens and my breath gets caught there.

I need a reminder to breathe almost as much as Hazel does.

Then there is the ritual of the washing of the hands.  The clean cool water washing away everything that comes from the outside world.  That is followed by the slipping on of a gown lest even our clothes harbor something that would be bad for the babies tucked away in this humming corner of the hospital.

Her bed glows blue from the bililight suspended above.  And this time, she is not breathing on her own.  Her tiny chest rises and falls in a clicking rhythm dictated by the tubes running down her throat.

Her lips are dry.  Her mouth looks parched.  My breasts ache, milk let down to flood the vast nothingness that stands between us.

The baby next to my Hazel has gone home.  A lusty boy.  Congratulations are in order to his parents.

A new baby girl has taken his place.

She cries, angry, when the nurse tends to her.  Mom sits in a rocking chair with arms out ready to receive her little one to feed, rock and comfort her.  Dad stands by.

The peaceful trio is quickly hidden behind a moving partition that is used to seclude and give comfort to those parents who can hold their children.

But what about those that can't?

There is no rocking chair for me.  If I am lucky, I get a swivel desk chair that the nurses use to enter records into the computer.

There is no rocking comfort for me.  Who would hold me anyway...me with the empty arms and overflowing heart?

And there is no partition for me.  No hiding.  While the happy families can hide their joy and celebrate in private, I must wear my grief on my sleeve.  There is no hiding the tears slipping down my cheeks, washing the hard plastic that separates me from my heart, but that at the same time, is keeping that heart beating.

And then there is the goodbye.  How do you say it?  How do you put into simple words that which kills you to even think?  How do you turn your back on someone and walk away when you never know if it's going to be the last time?

But how long can you sit on that swivel chair and helplessly watch the tiny life breathe when you have running, jumping, hearty life at home waiting for you, needing you?

When I was preparing for surgery, last Thursday afternoon, when tears quivered and panic threatened, two separate people, my doctor and one friend who just happened to be coming to visit at that time, prayed over me the same prayer.

And this is what it was:

The Lord bless you and keep you.
The Lord make His face shine upon you, and be gracious to you
The Lord lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace
(Number 6:24-26)

So, sweet baby Hazel, turn your face towards His, and may He smile on you and give you peace.

More Than Angels

Of all the kids, it seems that Gabriel, our 3 year old, has had the hardest time dealing with the whole traumatic event in our family that has been Hazel's birth.

A few weeks ago, while I was still home on bedrest, Gabriel informed that he had a cat in his tummy. This cat made him sick sometimes, but not to worry because it would soon come out and he would feel better.

The evening that I got home, he asked me about baby Hazel, and asked me if they cut open my tummy and took her out. Seeing as that's exactly what they did, I said yes.

The next day, Gabriel was super clingy and crying. Finally, he said that his tummy hurt because the cat in there was making it hurt. Later, though, after a nap with mom and dinner, he felt better and informed us all that the doctor had cut open his tummy and taken out his cat. His cat, now named Goeffery, had then ridden his bicycle to the doctors where baby Hazel is and is watching over and taking care of her.

Sweet baby Hazel! Not only does she have a brother who is crazy about her and already protective of her, sight unseen, but she has Geoffery the cat looking out for her...just hanging out there over her isolette...

Geoffery and all the angels.

Visiting Hazel Grace

Today's visit with Hazel was absolutely amazing! When we got there, she was snuggled on her side with a tiny cozy blanket was wrapped around her legs. She was sleeping and peaceful, and I was hesitant to disturb her.

Beauty personified.

Then the nurse came and told us that all was well with her. She is tolerating her food (pumped breast milk) well and was increased from 1.5 cc's per 3 hours to 2.3 cc's every three hours.

But the best news was that the brain scan that she had last night revealed no brain bleed!

This is incredible news! It doesn't mean that she won't have  any down the road at some point, but it means that right now...today...she is good.

God is good.

But the bestest best part was when the nurse started to check her over.  She turned off the bililight - which, by the way, Hazel is down to only one bulb now - and rolled little Hazel to her back. Then she took off her little diva eye mask and as I reached in to hold her tiny hand, she opened her eye and looked at me!

Now go ahead, you party poopers, and tell me she can't see me. Whatever. She looked at me and let me know that she's gonna be alright. She's not going to give up.

She's a fighter.

And she's got the angels on her team.

What's going on here...

Wow!  It's been a week since I've written!  A lot has actually happened, which is one reason why I have not written.  It has been pretty busy around here.

Jimmy's mom and dad had left to go home to El Salvador in November to live there permanently.  They are residents of the US, and in order to keep their residency, and therefore their ability to travel back and forth from the US and El Salvador, they need to come to the US to visit once every 5 months.

Well, the five months is now up, and so we called them to see if they wanted to set up a time to get the plane tickets to come and visit or if they didn't want to come back and just wanted to let their residency expire.  Much to our surprise, Jimmy's sister answered the phone and told us that Jimmy's dad was planning on 'surprising' us by appearing on our doorstep and announcing that he was going to move back to the US and stay here 'permanently'.

My!  Well, then.  That would have been quite a surprise!  I am glad that we called.

So, in the end, it turned out that we found out on Sunday that both of them decided to come back to live in the US permanently, and their flight was coming in a 2AM on Friday.  That didn't leave us much time to prepare.

We had already talked with them about how when the left in November, we were going to take over the room that they were leaving and that we would not be able to empty it again since in reality we really needed that space anyway.  We are, after all, a family of 6 in only 2 bedrooms, and we sorely needed that extra space.

But then we come to the problem of where do they stay?  With no job and no money, exactly where could they go?  At first, they slept in Elizabeth's bed and she slept on the couch downstairs, then Jimmy's dad went to stay with a friend and his mom slept on Jo's bed and Jo and Elizabeth slept together in her bed, and finally,  after much prayer and obvious intervention from God, his mom moved down to stay with his dad at the friend's house.  It turns out that the family has 3 kids and their live-in nanny/housekeeper is leaving on vacation for a month, so Jimmy's mom is going to take her place while she is gone, and there is a possibility that she will not come back!  That means that Jimmy's mom could have a permanent job with them which includes room and board for both of them plus cash every week!  And they live right down Rt 1, so it is not too far, and there is easy bus access when they need it.

What a blessing!

When You See it Through Their Eyes

As I mentioned before, I had a rough day one day last week, but it was completely turned around by the touch of a friend.  There's more to this story, though.

Baby B was with us on Thursday, and he had an absolute blast all morning, and he peacefully drank his bottle and started to snuggle in for a nap.  But then, he realized that he really wanted more milk.  That was the one thing that would make him happy.  Sleep would come later, but he wanted milk, and he would actually have liked that milk now!

But there was none to be had!  There were other yummy treats to be eaten like carrots and banana and squash, but only milk would do, and so there was sadness and tears.  Sucking his thumb wasn't cuttin' it.  He needed milk.  Well, in all honesty, he didn't need the milk.  He had just had some, and there was other food to be had, so it's not like he was starving, but he wanted the milk.  It's what he needed to hit his little warm comfy sleepy time spot.

So, I picked him up and held him.  And I looked into his little teary eyes, and he looked into mine, and there was communication.

I get it, Baby B.  It's what you need right now.  Even though you will get by without it, and you physically don't need it for survival, it's what will fulfill your desires and make you happy.  It's what will lift your spirits and calm your heart.  I get it.  Sometimes, we all just need what we don't need but what we want.

I get it.

So, I did the thing that I never do outside of an emergency.  I called Baby B's mom at work on the phone.  Not texted, called.  Like ring ring...hello?

It wasn't an emergency.

But it was.

It was Baby B's emergency, and I knew how he felt.  I knew that eventually, he would cry himself to sleep, and I knew that in the long run, it probably wouldn't have made much difference, but I also knew that if he were my little boy, I would want to know when he had a need like this.

This does not mean that his every little whim will be fulfilled, nor does it mean that I intend to call his mother at the drop of every cheerio, but what it does mean is that I understand that sometimes, there are just things that have to be done, needs that must be fulfilled.  Does Baby B understand what transpired?  Did our communication go to that level?  I would like to think that in some deep dark recess of his little brain, a synapse was connected and some sort of bond was formed.  A happy snuggle milk mommy caregiver bond so that his trust in me and mankind in general was strengthened just a little.

But maybe not.  Maybe he was just happy to see his mom and get some milk.  Whatever.  She came.  He smiled.  Happy baby.

But I would like to think that somewhere deep inside, he understood, and I hope his mom did, too.

A Friend Indeed

One day last week was a hard day.  I don't know why, exactly.  I can't put my finger on it, but I just woke up 'on the wrong side of the bed' so to speak.  I felt growly and grumpy, and to make matters worse, I had to drop Elizabeth off for a morning babysitting job, which meant that I had all the kids all by myself for the whole day.

It was kind of warm outside yesterday, but not really, and everything was still wet from the rain the night before, so going to a playground was out, and I still don't have a good stroller to be able to go somewhere like Huntley Meadows with all 4 of them, so I was stuck and didn't know what to do.  I knew that the kids would feed off my bad mood and raise a ruckus if I just took them home to play, and I didn't want that to happen to make things go from bad to worse, and I was just at a loss.

On a whim, I called a friend of mine.  Her response?  Why don't you guys come over here and play?  I wasn't sure that I wanted to take her up on her offer.  I mean, she has one little girl, but if we all came, I would be bringing 4 kids to her house!  That's a lot for any small space to handle.  But, no, she insisted, and we all went to her house.

It was wonderful!

We had never been to her house even though she has come over to play at ours a few times.  We usually meet at the park between our neighborhoods, so it was a new experience for all of my kids, and they loved it!  There was a wide open space to play in the living room, and a few well thought out toys to play with in the playroom.  Perfect!  No overload of toys, no huge messes to be made, just right.  I got to watch the littlest ones crawl around on the floor and enjoy themselves, and the big ones all got to play together and my friend and I got to chat a bit between wiping up cracker crumbs and runny noses.

This was just what I needed, right when I needed it.  Without it, I would have survived, of course, but things would not have been nearly as enjoyable, and no one would have had as much fun.  Her offer of friendship immediately lifted my mood, cheered my heart and raised my spirits.  The whole day turned around and my grumps were gone.

My friends are important to me.  They make me happy and make my heart sing.  Earlier this week, a chat from a far away friend totally made my day, too, and women's Bible study warms my spirit.  Even when it's a call for help from someone else, it heartens me to think that this person thought of me when the were hurting or needed something.  They see me as a friend, too.  Give and take is a beautiful thing.

It got me to thinking.  Jo's AWANA verse this week is:

Colossians 1:3
We always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you.

Do I?  Do I always thank God when I pray for my friends?  Beyond even that, do I even remember to pray for my friends when they don't 'need' it?  Do I pray for my friends just because?  Just because they are my friends and I am thankful for them?  Just because they are my friends and I want good things for them?

It was not necessary for my friend to invite us over yesterday.  In fact, she didn't even need to answer her phone when she saw me calling.  But she did, and I am thankful for it.  It was not necessary that my far away friend take the time out of their day to chat with me.  But they did, and I am thankful for it.

So, friend, thank you for being here.  Thank you for listening to me.  Thank you for trusting me with your needs and helping me meet mine.  Thank you for being my friend and letting me be yours.  And know that you are in my prayers because I do thank God, the Father of the Lord Jesus Christ, for you.

Growing Pains

Her curls stick sweatily to her neck and her bare toe traces a pattern in the dust.  The toe with the Angry Bird Band-Aid on it because she was nervously picking at her toenails the night before draws swirls, patterns, and crazy "S's" which appear and just as quickly disappear under her restless foot.

Why does it hurt, Mommy?  Why is the sun so hot that it burns my feet on the sidewalk and my legs on the slide?  If the sun is to make the flowers grow, why does it hurt so bad?

I look at her dirt-streaked, sweaty face and say the only thing that comes to mind:

Growth hurts, my love. 

We, I, am at a time of growth, and it hurts.  The walls of our house groan with the strain of the growth that is pushing against them.  Four growing children, one room mate, and two in-laws have this tiny house maxed out.  For now, it is one in-law, since my mother-in-law is in El Salvador for the next month, but with the answered prayer that my father-in-law get a job, she will undoubtedly return to be with him here and to put even more pressure back on the cracking plaster of this old house. 

But this house is an inanimate object.  We ask nothing of it other than to shelter us and keep us safe from the storms.  It is not expected to grow and change.

But I am.

Will I, as my mother always used to say, continue to repeat my mistakes until I learn the right way?  Must I stay here, boiling under the pressure of it all until I learn?

What?  What is it that I must learn? 

I place my palms flat on the walls and feel the heat of the outdoor sun being transferred to the blue walls of the living room.  Blue.  Like the sky, like a great space, like our upside-down view of heaven. 

And I know that I can not stretch these walls, these things of wood and drywall, but rather it is I who need to become smaller.  Much smaller.

I need to shrink myself down to the size that will fit in God's palm.

I can say everyday that my attitude needs to be fixed.  I can say that my reliance on God is what is lacking, but until I actually do something about it, then what are my words but an annoying fly buzzing in people's ears?

But growth hurts, and it is hard to pray for pain.

On my knees with downturned face and upstretched hands pleading for pain is the only place that I will find growth.

And until I am ready to do that, I can expect nothing. 

But I know that as soon as I am ready to do that, then I can expect the blue walls of this little house to burst open with new space.  Not that I will have more physical space, but rather that I will be turning this space that we do have over to God and trusting His infinite wisdom with the plan for us and our future. 

Encouragement

Our family has quite a few pretty big life changes coming up here soon and as much as I am usually a very upbeat and positive person, every once in a while, something will happen that will slip me into a little bit of a funk.

This was one of those things on one of those days.

It started out great, but then something happened, and my little smiley-head light that runs constantly in my head got switched off for a moment.

The drapes in my brain dropped down blocking all light and not allowing me to see the glow of my faith in things to come.  I knew at that moment, that nothing was going to work out as it should and that I should really just give up right then, change all plans back into something that none of us wanted but that seemed inevitable and just keep plodding down the bleak course where I seemed to be heading.

When out of the blue, the phone rings and it is a woman on the other end of the line.  This is a woman who I have only met once in my life and who I had called a few times to see if she wanted to order anything from Pampered Chef because she had first said that she did, only to be told that no, she found something better elsewhere and she would not be ordering from me.  Which is fine, but why was she calling me?


She told me that she was calling me to place an order with me because her mother had reminded her that she did want something particular but not just because of that...

She was calling me because she had liked my attitude and my respectful persistence in calling her in order to farther my business.  She, as a business owner herself, said that my attitude made her rethink what she was doing in her own business and made her realize that not many people followed through on what they said that they would do.  She said that she hoped and expected that my business would go far.

I was surprised and pleased at this.  And, instead of just taking the order and hanging up the phone, I thanked her specifically.  Her words of encouragement came at just the right time.  I told her that I had been feeling a little down and that her kind words were a blessing to me, and I know that made her feel good as well.  

After hanging up with her, I thought about the whole encouragement thing.  How many times do we actually stop and say, 'You're doing a good job' or 'I appreciate you'?  Do we say it enough to our husbands?  Our wives?  Our friends? 

Our children?

But why don't we do it more often?  Giving encouragement to someone helps not only them, but ourselves, too.  How can you feel negative when you are honestly seeing and praising a good quality in someone else? 

So, I am making this a challenge for myself...

Tomorrow is Sunday, the beginning of the week.  I am challenging myself to purposefully and sincerely say something encouraging or write and send an encouraging note to at least one person every day this week. 

And by blessing other people, I know that I, too, will feel as equally blessed.

Anyone want to join me?

Five Minute Friday - Remember

Today is Sunday, so I figured it would be a great time to link up to Gypsy Mama's Five Minute Friday.

The rules?  Write for five minutes without stopping to correct or edit. 

The topic?  Remember

Ready? Set?  GO!

I remember back when I was little and I had blind faith.  I just thought that it would all work out and that I would be safe, and sound and protected.

I remember when I used to walk in front of the strip mall with my dad and he would put his hand on top of my head and I would close my eyes and he, with his hand on my head, would lead me around the poles and trash cans and people. 

Until one time he forgot that I had my eyes closed.

And I ran into a pole.

And it hurt.  It hurt my head, and my pride.

Things are different, now though.  I still wish for that hand on my head, and I still wish for that gentle but firm guiding from my dad, but it's not like that anymore. I know that no one can do that for me.  No one can be constantly vigilant and watch my every step.

And so, for the longest time,  I tried to put my own hand on my head and close my eyes and lead myself.

But you can guess the outcome of that!

So I have now turned to look at another Father.

I know that my father still loves and cares for me, but he is not here, right here, right now. 

And my blindness leading my own self just wasn't working.

And besides, when I hit that pole, and it hurt, and I fell, this hand on my  head couldn't hold me up, because I was the one who holding the hand up on the top of my head.

But now, I have a Father who puts His hand under and around me and not only guides me, but holds me up and watches not only where my head goes, but where my feet go, also.

STOP!  Wow that was a fast 5 minutes!

Etched in Sand

This past weekend, 30 women from our church went to the beach for a Women's Retreat.  I was one of those 30.

Reach out and touch

Feel the pain,

Feel the joy

Feel the recovery.

The waves crash to the shore as we women stand facing the endless ocean with our troubles in our hands as so many stones.

Toss them away from you to be washed by the cleansing waves, we are told.

And so we stand, prayerfully, to toss the stones

one by one

into the great abyss that is the ocean.

We toss our cares away from ourselves, our puny, weak selves,

into the ever powerful waves of the ocean...

Into the ever powerful arms of God.



Sitting on the shore,

my bare feet feeling the coolness of the fall tide-wet sand,

I reach down with my finger and trace the words that have haunted me

the sins to be confessed and erased

and my fingers flit and glide through the soft substance

until my deepest hidden thoughts come to the surface.

And I see this word here, staring at me so deeply etched.  So raw and plain for all to see.

What do I fear? 

I fear failure

I fear the unknown

I fear the past, the present

and the future.

I fear that it all rests on my shoulders

This great burden of family,

This great blessing of family

This blessing that gives and gives but also

takes and takes

so very much.

Who am I to stand up under this weight alone?

As my head sinks to my knees in quiet supplication

In tearful pleading with the One who can handle it all

I see my fear for what it is

It is not a thing that can be handled or subdued by me

It is a lack that needs to be filled

It is the lack of

Trust.

My toes clench,  feeling the grainy sand between them.

And my hands touch

gingerly

the rough edges of my FEAR feeling the grit of it under my fingernails.

And in the touching, in the probing,

the word starts to fade.

As I search my FEAR

And as I begin to accept it for what it is

a LACK

that must be filled with

FAITH

in the One who is EVER FAITHFUL

I see this FEAR, this word, this feeling

Disappear

Raising my eyes to the never ending waves of the ocean

Infinite power,

Set in place by an even more Powerful One

I confess my fear

And allow it to be nothing but what it really is

Nothing more than a word

etched in nothing more than sand.

And in its place

there is

Peace

because through confession, my slate is wiped clean

daily

by the One who calms me

Thanksgiving

The hands reach and grasp and I feel their pull on my heart and on my legs and on my time.  I look down into their faces and see wants and needs and a vast unquenchable thirst for attention and love.

And I feel like I am at the edge of an abyss.

Blackness ready to suck me down.

My belly swells heavily before me, and my heart pounds wearily inside of me as I look around the house at the little and not so little shoes, socks, and sweaters strewn all around.

The promise of coffee in the kitchen is a distant comfort as I see the dishes piled in the sink and the laundry on the line through the window with the whir of another load finishing up in the machine.

I can't do this.  I can't go there to that job and leave this here waiting for me when I get back.  I can't walk through another day like this.  I can't run household and hold my position at the company where I work as well and struggle to get my home business off the ground.

I am weary and weak.

The night before weighed so heavily on me.  Pictures of the baby girls in China in dying rooms kept floating through my mind.

What can I, one person, do for them when I can't even keep myself together?  Can helping one child even make a difference for the thousands of other little girls who are abandoned?

Where is GOD?

I pull my husband to me and cry to him the pain that I see in the pictures and hidden camera videos and I ask what can we do?

He knows my heart, and he wraps his arms around me.

I know your soul is aching, he says.  God hears your cries.  God, too, knows the desires of your heart.

When the time is right, in HIS perfect plan, the answer will come.

Yes, you are right.  When the time is right, all will come together.

Take today, take now and give thanks in who you are and where you are.

So I look with new eyes and I see my oldest bending to pick up the stray socks

And I see the dirty dishes that pile in the sink because we have eaten well

And the linens flapping on the line because we have a place to sleep

And the diapers whirring to an end in the machine because we are blessed with strong healthy children.

And so I look down into the soft brown eyes of the little ones and kiss their upturned faces knowing that while I am gone, they will be well cared for by their grandmother, who loves them as I do.

And I know that this is just for a season and that the line of this day, this week, this month is but one small thread in the tapestry of the plan that God has for my life.

Give thanks in all circumstances for this is God's will for you in Jesus Christ.

  1 Thessalonians 5:18

See You at the Pole

I wanted to let you all know how it went last Wednesday at See You at the Pole. 

In case you don't know, this is a world wide event where students all over meet around the flagpole at their school before school starts to pray for the school, the leaders in their school and in their country and basically to pray for whatever they want to pray about.

Elizabeth wanted to participate in this, but she was also nervous about 'sticking her neck out' and telling other kids about it.

Her excuse was that other than the 2 other girls that we take to church with us who attend her school, there is no one else in her school that is a like-minded Christian who is willing to stand up in front of the school and by doing so proclaim their faith.

In our church, we as a whole congregation are doing a study about how God is big enough.  To this end, the church has made rubber bracelets with the words 'God is Big Enough' on them so that we can wear and share them to help spread the word and the idea that God is indeed big enough for anything that we can possibly come across. 

I know that it is legal to hold a prayer meeting at the school, as in the kids can't get arrested for doing it, but to be safe, Elizabeth asked the principal of her school if she was allowed to gather at the pole and pray on Wednesday morning. 

The principal responded that she would have to check.  It too her until Monday evening to find out whether the kids could gather or not, and her response was that yes, they could gather, but they couldn't make posters or fliers about it because that does not fit the school's image.  (Of course, they can make fliers about dance competitions and drama shows and such, just not this.) 

So, Elizabeth had one day to spread the word by mouth.

Her friends Annie and Renee, who go to church with us, also spread the word.  Elizabeth was nervous on Tuesday morning about talking to her friends.  She said that they wouldn't come and they wouldn't care.  W talked about how that was not her choice.   She needed to only spread the word, and let God take care of the rest because as we have studied, He is big enough and much bigger than her or the distances that she can personally reach.

So, she went and spread the word.

Wednesday morning I agreed to drive Elizabeth and Renee to school to be sure that they would get there in time, and 5 minutes before we had to leave, it started pouring rain.  I mean POURING!  It was coming down in sheets!  We got soaked just looking out the window! 

But we headed off anyway, and by the time we got to the school, it had pretty much let up. 

The girls got out of the car and we all went to the pole and waited for the buses to unload.  One girl came by to see what we were doing, and when the girls told her, she stayed for a while, but then wandered off.

Then the buses unloaded and 2 more girls joined us.

Because Elizabeth had never done this before, we had printed out a prayer to read so that no one would be shy and so that there would not be just awkward silence.  So, Elizabeth passed out the prayer that she had gotten from the church and then modified to fit the situation, and the girls read the prayer.  Then a youth pastor from another church that had been going around to the various schools prayed over the girls and the gave them donuts. 

I bet if more kids knew that there would be donuts, more would have showed up!

Then, Elizabeth passed out one of the God is Big Enough bands to each of the girls.

I was so proud of them all! 


(I was a little bit afraid to take pictures at the school with all the kids there and parents and buses unloading.  I don't know what the rules are about 'unauthorized' pictures of kids at public schools.)

All of the girls knew each other except for one who knew some but not all.  In total, there was only 5 girls who stayed through the whole thing, but it's a start!

I just had to hug them all!  They were so sweet standing there communing in prayer and asking their Lord to bless them and their school. 

So, it may not have turned out very big, but at least these girls got together and made other people ask questions like 'what are you doing out here in the wet???'

And Elizabeth now knows one more girl who is like-minded.

So...the next thing that is happening is that Elizabeth has to do community service hours for an assignment for school. 

Of course, with Jimmy and me being the mean and cruel parents that we are, Elizabeth is not allowed to do what all the other kids do - library duty, help a teacher, pick up trash around the school, help in the nursery at church - oh, no.  We want her to dig a bit deeper and find out how to find people who need help.

So she asked advice from some great friends, and went a the missionary fair that was at our church picnic. 

Since she is a minor, her choices are somewhat limited, but she found a place where they ask for kids to make Christmas, birthday and housewarming cards for lonely people and people in shelters. 

So, we are collecting ribbon and stickers and whatnot so that we can have a card making party.  Elizabeth now has one new friend to invite!  (The one she didn't really know who came to the flag pole)  Who knows if this new girl will be able to come or not, but I am so happy that Elizabeth is having a chance to make her circle of believing friends just a little bit bigger. 

At Elizabeth's age where things can be so difficult, the more support she has the better.

And, I also firmly believe that it Elizabeth's age, where things can be so difficult, it is very important for the kids to work with other people who are younger or who will look up to them and who they can teach...who they know will be disappointed if they 'mess up'.

So our guest list for our card making party is slowly and thoughtfully being made, (there are only but so many kids who can fit in this house...especially now that the kids are bigger...they just take up more room!)

I'll keep you posted!

What's Been Going on Around Here

I'm not really sure if the title of this posting is a question or a statement!

But....this is what has been going on around here:

We found a box turtle in the road and brought it home.  But, when I did some research online, I found that the numbers of box turtles were decreasing because they do not reproduce rapidly and so many people were taking them into captivity to turn them into pets.  Also, I found that they really need a lot of space and they are stressed and therefore made ill by little kids and pets. 

So...we took him to a stream near where we found him and let him go the next day.

We also harvested our carrots...

...which tasted as bad as they looked...or worse.  That was a disappointment, but...

...Our sunflowers are amazing!  I planted 2 seeds in front of my in-laws window to give them some shade, and one seed didn't sprout, but the other took of like crazy is almost tall enough to shade the window on the second floor!  (That's the first picture of the 3).  The other ones that are just seeds that I dropped here and there for fun have come up and are either blooming already or getting ready to.  They are so pretty and their blooms last so long!  What fun!  It's been a few years since we have planted these, and now I wonder why we waited so long!

At work...

Aliza and Jenna (our boss' daughters) made us some awesome cupcakes, which were quickly devoured by the group.

And Sunday was a day of fun and relaxation that ended late in the evening with a splash in the pool!