ALL things work together for good...

In mothering, there is little more difficult than dealing with children who are emotionally hurt and deeply disappointed. I have found that I go to great lengths to avoid such times, as I imagine we all do.

Yesterday, I picked Ethan up from guitar and transported him to the pool for swimming practice. We had a sweet conversation about the plans of God. I can't recall what was the catalyst for this talk, but in the end, Ethan said, "But all things work for good, right Mommy?" Little did he know how much he would need to recall this statement about an hour later. For a nine-year old's world is vastly different than ours in terms of perspective and experiences. What we might be able to work through and then quickly move forward through, they cannot. The important, life-altering relationships are few, their security strongly rooted in them. For the sensitive child, change in general is challenging and the loss of an important person in their life is exponentially harrowing.

We arrived at the pool and gathered with the other families. A team meeting had been called for that afternoon to discuss the summer schedule and "plans for next year." The email that informed me of this meeting was vague and I knew that there was a high probability that the news would not be good. The news was brief and swift, much like the ripping off of a band aid. Unfortunately, it left a gaping wound that continued to bleed as more information was given and the reality of what the meant for my children set in. The site location for our team was going to close and our coach was moving to a location geographically and financially unfeasible for us.

Over the past year, I have recounted several tales from our experiences with the pool - from our first jaunt with the Elk's this past summer, to a smattering of swim mentions in other posts. I can't verbalize all the ways in which swimming has benefited my children. Physically, mentally, emotionally - they have learned valuable lessons on working hard, team-work, and sportsmanship. They have developed a new fondness for healthy eating and being "tough." This has spilled over in their spiritual life as well, understanding that they should always give their best for God, relying on Him to give strength to their bodies, rising above the fray of competition and spending time in prayer over it. Nothing has pleased me more than watching my son thank his timers, cheer on his fellow teammates, shake hands with his competitors, and encourage his sister (which is extremely difficult to do at times, I assure you).

There was comfort for Ethan in our current swim location. He is not Olympic material. However, he works hard, always does his best, listens to his coach and is content with improving his times. There is security in knowing that he is not compared to the other swimmers, that he is not intimidated by more advanced swimmers and he had developed quite a nice, tightly knit commraderie, with the other swimmers. I saw every ounce of that security and confidence drain from his face yesterday.

But possibly the most detrimental result of this news falls with Ethan's coach. Ethan's relationship with him is similar to that of an older brother. I am sure Ethan has been aggravating at times, just like a younger brother, but Ethan also opened himself up to this coach in a way that he has only done with me. It was a relationship that quickly evolved beyond what he had experienced with other adults of authority. This adult was always interested in him. Ethan trusted him, relied on him, gave him insight into his emotions and what he was dealing with outside of the pool. And, so, my son grieves this loss as if it were a death.

I have been faced with multiple situations over the last month that fall under this same set of circumstances - issues out of my control that greatly impact my children in a negative way and I have to deal with the fallout. It is not fun. Frankly, it stinks. At least at this moment, I am only dealing with Ethan on this as Sadie does not appear to have fully allowed the reality of losing her coach into her heart.

It is a great and valuable teaching lesson for Ethan and me. He was blessed to have this year and this relationship. There should only be joy in that, not grief. It is but a bump in this life, this very temporary life. In the perspective of disappointments in life, this will be minor - let's learn how to deal with them now. Finally, we must plow forward remembering that something phenomenal is still before us, waiting, because, "we know that to them that love God all things work together for good, even to them that are called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28

Trippin' the light fantastic

Here is a partially frivolous, superficial post. There aren't many material things I covet. At least that is how I think I am. I have a decent perspective on clothes, shoes, etc. I may have a bit of them, but I never pay much for them. I balk at shoes over $40.00, for instance. Spending money on a $100 handbag...never. I know how temporal this world is. I am not judging anyone who does, it is just not my thing. HOWEVER, on occasion, something will strike my fancy in way that it will not leave my mind for days. Here is what is tempting me lately:

Raclette Grill. Some of you know my fondness for the Fondue. I love hosting parties with large platters of goodies to dip into pots filled with decadent cheeses and chocolates. Some of you have also experienced the utter disdain my husband has for waiting around for food to cook/eat, or worse, food in small quantities. Thus, fondue doesn't get served as often as I would like.

Enter device right. I had forgotten about this little nifty gadget until a recent bible study. You see, this bible study is geared around meals -could it get any better? Our host brought out her raclette grill and I nearly gasped in delight. Check this out...grill on top, melting cheese in your own individual pan on the bottom. I last used a device loosely similar to this on one of my final nights in the Netherlands. My host family and I cooked dinner using little individual pans. I loved it then, I LOVE IT now. To me, this takes away much of the waiting around factor from fondueing, but gives you a lot more options with meat. This could be my solution!




Item #2: Boden USA - the entire catalogue. Never have I been so entranced by colors and patterns brought together. The clothes aren't earth shattering in themselves, it is how they put it all together. It is just my style. Funny, my fellow swim mom, Molly, showed up at the pool on the same day, with the same catalogue feeling the exact same way. I am not alone. Thankfully, their website loads very slowly and they don't carry petites, otherwise it could be trouble. I am not even going there with the prices, ok? Pictures to the right aren't from the current catalogue, so order a free one today!


Fabric and felt necklaces. I can't pinpoint the source of the fascination, but I love the possibilities of variations.

My friend, Margo, is a sewing genius and I just know she can whip one of these up. She also makes nifty, funky t-shirts, fabric headbands. I have been the benefactor of several of the headbands. Love them. With summer around the corner, I think I need to place an order with my dear friend.


On the non-frivilous material side...Homeschool information. Yes, you read that correctly. I don't even have a picture to post I am so new at considering this. Considering this...ok, so I think I am past considering this. If this is not what I am supposed to do, may God slap me over the head with a 2x4. At this point I will be focusing on one child only. I am sure I don't even have to name her, but in case there is a new reader, it is Sadie. I have ordered some informational books, made a few appointments and registered for the large homeschool conference in a nearby city. I am really most excited about this program as it encompasses history, art, music and drama (most essential to the child in question). Sadie needs more learning and she needs less influence. Her excitement for new subjects is being squelched by her impulsively and desire to entertain the class. I have seen her potential and this year has not even come close to tapping into it. I know I am at risk at being continually chipped away piece by piece until there is nothing left but my big toe walking around. Yet, I plow forward knowing this is the best thing for this child at this time. I am freakishly and naively excited. Here is a very funny blog post about why another mom homeschools.

The new TobyMac CD - could be my all-time favorite. Simply rocks. How anyone can stay still listening to, "Funky Jesus Music" is beyond me. The songs range from heavy, to rap, to disco and dance. LOVE IT! The bonus track on the end cracks me up.

Finally, I am happy that many of the blogs I frequent are back to blogging. It may be a surprise that some of my favorite blogs are quite liberal in focus, or use an occasional curse word. Those types of blogs always make me think (not the curse words, the liberal topics) and I think it is always good to evaluate why you believe what you do. God's word is my resource on this one. Here is my list of current favs: xtcian (writer from my days at Carolina who has perfected accurate analogies and a vocabulary straight out of the SAT, and is very liberal), Josh & Danielle (people I don't know, but are connected with members of my family who describe life in a country far away with much humor), The Meanest Mom (and you thought my life was a circus - hilarious!), The Whine Seller (my friend Jennifer, who doesn't blog often - though she should because when she does...hysterical).

What has landed in your interest column lately?

Sick Sadie

My family is healthy. We eat decently, everyone works out (except for me) and I am not a freakazoid about germs. While I think it is pertinent to wash hands, I don't spaz out about dirtiness in general, believing that it helps build the immune system, etc. For the past several years the only visits we would have to the doctor were for well-checks. The only exception would be one ear infection a year for Sadie.

However, since November, the entire picture above has slowly disintegrated. Not the good eating habits and working out, but the "my family is healthy" statement. To be very specific, Sadie continually says, "Mom, I don't feel well." This declaration is usually followed-up by one of the following, "My head hurts. My stomach hurts. My throat hurts. My ear hurts."

I do not have the gift of mercy. Unless my child is bleeding, vomiting or having a fever, I tell them I am sorry and deal with it. Therefore, much of the time I ignore her statements until I have had enough of them and finally take her to the doctor's more out of frustration than concern. We have been to the doctor's office monthly since November.

This last trip did not yield any diagnosis except that her body is just run down. Lots of different viruses have been floating around - some with fevers, some without. The slight chance of mono was mentioned by the doctor, but even I could deduce that was not likely. The child had just completed 9 swim events - all strokes in 50s and 100s, plus the 100 IM without a complete collapse which I would have expected had she been dealing with mono.

I have tracked when and under what circumstances she makes these statements. They do not seem to be related to school, eating, sleeping, swimming. Nothing. In fact, the more I sensed her health spiraling downward, the more I clamped down on unhealthy snacks and pushed for earlier bedtime. Didn't work.

On Sunday night Sadie, once again, began her thrice weekly mantra, "Mom, I don't feel well." I brushed it off, as she had a swim meet this past weekend. A tired body might interpreted as sickness in her mind. Monday morning, the same phrase was repeated and I heard it again Monday after school. I just kept moving her along her normal routine of the day. Basically, I ignored her.

We ended up at swim practice. She got right into the pool and appeared quite focused. I went to sit outside where I could see, but not really hear what was going on in practice. I noticed she really wasn't fully performing what was being asked of her. Her kicks were quite pathetic and she lagged behind the other swimmers. About a 45 minutes into practice, I saw her sitting on the side of the pool with her towel around her. She started to lay down. I could feel my ire rising. I am not paying for her to interchange putting forth effort and slacking whenever she just feels like it.

She collected her things and walked outside to where I was sitting. I took her to the side and asked her what was going on. Her usual reply, "Mom, I don't feel well." I sadly decided to parent ala Jim Pierce and said the following, "Sadie, I have had enough of this constant 'I don't feel well mess.' Do you want to be #1 this summer?" She said, "Yes." I said, "Then get back in that pool and work hard. You are at one level and Coach Rob is trying to take you to the next level. It might be hard, but it is time to get your heiny in that pool and work. Now go ... and I don't want to hear anything else out of you." With that she walked back to the pool and according to her coach, worked hard the remaining time.

On the way home, I felt pretty darn good about my parenting. I held my ground. I stated my case and it appeared to be well-received. I deserved a little pat on the back.

At 7:15 pm, I found Sadie asleep with the dog on the dog bed. At 10:00 pm, she called me, weakly from her room asking me to help her. I walked upstairs, took one look at her and knew...she was sick. Those fiery red lips, little pea eyes and a body that felt on fire.

Yup. Chalk another great mothering moment up for me. Nice one, God. I say that without a hint of sarcasm and with complete submission. Clearly, my perspective on my 8 year old daughter, her "swimming career," and my belief that I had some control over either had grown ridiculously out of whack.

As a follow-up, I did take her to the doctor today. Everything major has been ruled out, including mono. The doctor was in agreement that all this sickness has just about been enough. A course of major antibiotics and no swimming for at least a week was the order.

Needs

It is Friday morning. I have asked several times for Sadie to get her hair brushed. Normally, this isn't an issue for her. Sometime during the summer the light bulb turned on in the personal hygiene department. At least in the visual department of personal hygiene; we are still working on the non-visual like bad breeth and teeth. Brushing her hair is outward, readily seen and relevant to her.

Anyway, this was our conversation:

Me: Sadie, You need to have your hair brushed.
Sadie: I don't need to have it brushed.
Me: Yes, Sadie, you need to brush it. It is looking ratty.
Sadie: No, I don't need anything. I only need God.
And she flashes me that little smirk as she slips into my bathroom for a hairbrush.

Why I Am Leaving Facebook

Hi, my name is Kelsey and I am addicted to facebook.

My love affair with facebook began in June 2008. I even documented it with a post on this blog. Little did I know what started as a little whim would evolve into being a stronghold in my life.

Oh, it was so incredibly fun in the beginning. Every time I logged on there would be a new connection. I loved seeing updated pictures of people I hadn't seen in years, hearing what life had been for them, laughing at old times. I squealed in delight when I reconnected with my debate camp roommate from the summer of '86. I walked down memory lane with my girls from year abroad, even reconnecting with every member of my host family during that year. I found family members I hadn't seen in years, all the while sinking deeper and more passionately enamored by the trappings of facebook.

A high school reunion this past fall egged on the relationship. It fed the "need" to check facebook on levels that way surpassed more than healthy. The committee planned the reunion largely on facebook ensuring that I would be held captive for the planning period of 6 months prior to the event.

Little jabs by my real-world significant other (Jay), made me stop and think about my indiscretion, but it was easy to explain away the time spent as productive, useful, my only means of connection with "some of these friends." Meanwhile, I was checking my home page all too frequently - multiple times a day. I had way too much information in my brain, drivel that was dribbling to be exact, about mere acquaintances. Some "friends" I have never actually had a verbal, out loud conversation with. I looked at pictures of people I didn't even know!

Things started to really change when that little lovely voice of conviction started creeping in. It wasn't me, my husband or my friends telling me how this has taking over, it was Him. Those nudges you just can't explain away. You have to deal with them head on.

To cap it off, I started a new bible study, "No Other Gods" by Kelly Minter. Should have known by the title that this would be a study that made me examine the motives of my heart. One compelling statement in the early part of this study is, "I'm totally afraid we are routinely putting ourselves in front of things that compromise the good the Lord wants to accomplish in us."

You can begin to see cracks in my relationship with it here in January of this year. I was thinking about breaking up with Facebook, but wasn't quite ready to let it go. You know, what if I lost contact with some of my friends again? Part of my social world would disappear. I couldn't think about the horrors of horrors...my B.F. life (before Facebook) and returning to it. I wasn't willing to live that out, yet.

Meanwhile, the bible study continued. I set out to discover what I was, without much thought, putting ahead of what I should be. What had become an idol in my life? It was pretty easy to discover one. Facebook. Sure, there are several others sitting on the list, but Facebook is the easiest one to fix.

The smack in the face, however, came when it was revealed to me what the "things" on my list had in common. Identity. It was a little wounding to discover what I feared most was to be forgotten, to be looked over, to no longer have affirmation to my being - like having 19 comment posts to my status update. Now, you don't have to tell me how completely pathetic that is. My identity in Christ does not pale in comparison to my identity on Facebook, but in time, I had allowed that to happen.

While I am at it, let me just lay it all on the line. When you fill your brain up with information about other people, information that you would normally not be privy too, it can bring out some pretty nasty internal results...coveting, self-pity, comparisons, judgements, even anger. In fact, Tom Keller, pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in NYC says, "Idolatry is attached to everything, All of our bitterness, all our impurity, all our malice, all of our problems, everything that troubles us is a result of idolatry." I had allowed Facebook to become an idol - of my time, of my emotions, of my identity.

Now, I am not here to stir up a debate about the merits of Facebook. Nor do I want to hear all the reasons why someone has justified their relationship with it. I am writing only about myself and my complete lack of self-control. In no way am I claiming that Facebook is a pox against all society and rallying for its complete destruction.

You know, I actually have to giggle at a remark someone made to me yesterday. I stated I was writing this post and they said, "It sounds like you are writing your obituary." Actually, it is. A death to the sinful, self-focused self that I am, that quickly foresakes God for a few comments and accolades on a website. However, there is no sadness with this announcement, only joy. In that death is a birth of more of Him within me. Oh what joy and peace knowing my heart now has more room for God. My God - a guilt-less, convicting-less, loving addiction.

This prayer from A.W. Tozer completely sums up this battle and victory (from Facebook, light-hearted and trivial, to the more heart-wrenching idols of self-worth and control):

"Father, I want to know You, but my cowardly heart fears to give up its toys. I cannot part with them without inward bleeding and I do not try to hide from You the terror of the parting. I come trembling, but I do come. Please root from my heart all those things which I have cherished so long and which have become a very part of my living self, so that You may enter and dwell there without a rival. Then You shall make the place at Your feet glorious. Then shall my heart have no need of the sun to shine in it, for You alone will be the light of it, and there shall be no night there."

Small Victories

I think parenting is all about living for the small victories. Let's face it, our kids are never going to behave the way we would prefer all the time. So, I believe God throws us these bones to keep us going in this predictably failing pursuit.

Small Victory #1: Yesterday, I wrote about my precious little girl's "shout out" to me at the door of our carpoolers. I had fully planned an "intense" discussion about this lovely sign of respect after she returned from school. Swim practice prevented that immediate discussion, which was a God designed delay. Upon returning home, kids were scattered in all directions putting up bags, taking showers, etc. However, Sadie found me,alone, putting away some laundry and said, "Hey Mom?" "You know when I shouted at you from the car this morning? Well, I am really sorry. That was really bad of me. Will you forgive me?" Sweet Jesus, thank you for the encouragement that my child does recognize the tone of Satan when it spews forth from her mouth.

Small Victory #2: After picking up kids from school today, my precious oldest one decided that I have failed him miserably by only allowing "healthy" snacks after school. He decided to repeatedly ask me for packaged chips that are 1) only allowed for school lunches and 2) not to be asked for as an after school snack. Oh, what a terrible mother am I, I heard. Why, oh why was he sent to THIS family. Woe. Woe. Woe is him. Topping off this endearing scenario was his attempt to parent my youngest on how she never closes doors. Instructing him to take a step back from this endeavor, he refused to zip it and began to belittle her. I sent him up to his room for an attitude adjustment. A mere 10 minutes later, I heard a little quiet voice asking to come out of his room. Yes, I responded. He came barreling into my room, his face scrunched up, tears in his eyes. Quite pathetic actually. I thought, "Oh no, here we go again...those blasted chips." Instead, this is what I got, "Mommy, I am so sorry for being mean to you. I just can't do that anymore. Will you forgive me?" With that, he started sobbing. I know I had to look like I won the lottery, stunned and thrilled all at the same time.

Small victories, people. Small victories will see us through.

A battle of self-control

Sadie, you ripped off a tiny chunk of me this morning. It is Monday morning, the beginning of a new week and already I feel a little less of a mother.

A forgotten vocabulary test is what was the catalyst. Struggling to hastily review 16 words was frustrating to you - words like accessible, imperative, effigy. You vacillated between feeling confident of your knowledge and throwing the papers across the room. Our carpoolers arrived. You had a moment of freakout as study time was over. Tears prevented you from heading out the door as you would never allow a friend to see that you had cried. I urged you on. You slowly, in defiance, walked to the door.

I watched from the closet window to make sure your transition to their car was an easy one. I watched you stand at the open car door, much longer than you should. I saw the carpool mom talking to you, turned from the driver's seat. You were not getting into the car. Your mouth was moving, but not your body.

I walked to the front door, opened it and shouted to you, "Sadie, get in the car." You turned to me, and screamed, "I AM!!!!" hurling all of the frustrations of the morning back to me. It was the pinnacle of disrespect and lack of self-control. Had I not been in a thin pair of pajamas, no shoes and yesterday's mascara hanging out under my eyes, I would have run out the door and to quote my own parents, "Jerked a knot in you."

Lord, I pray that one day your impulsivity will not cause you to lose your best friend, get you fired from your job, or worse, land in jail. Or maybe, I should be praying that one day, your impulsivity will not cause me to lose my own self-control.

End of Winter Update

The turn of winter into spring - at least on the calendar - never fails to stir in me a fervent desire to travel. It happens every year. We have had one of the coldest, seemingly longest, snowiest winters I can recall in my lifetime. Statistics probably prove otherwise, but for someone who gags when she is overly cold, this winter has been the pits. March, only a days away, signifies spring to me, whether the biting winter winds have died down or not. It is also time to start putting away the heaviest of winter clothes - the corduroy, the velvet, the wools, etc.

In previous years, March drove me to the streets. I felt like a caged wild cat, needing to get out, explore, anything for a change to the daily grind. I would hit the road with the kids, heading to the beach or to catch up with friends. Many times it was in tandem with my sister. Now that all the kids are in school, it makes the possibility pretty slim. And, with all that is going on with the business, it is not the time to "get away." My heart still pines for the warmth of the sunshine and change of scenery. I guess I will just have to settle on traveling 2 hours east for the kids' last swim meet of the season in Raleigh. The warmth will have to come from the humidity of the indoor pool.

I write this post on the heels of Jay's return to our home. He was away for 11 days for work. The kids were really out of sorts with him being gone. In the end, I was weary from consoling little children and wiping crocodile tears. I had to deal with some behavioral situations with Sadie, a crick in the neck with Lily and a weekend I had planned on being out of town since November, the logistics of which were quite ridiculous. However, I have found the most wonderful retreat for scrapbookers or any women wanting to get away. Whispering Winds. Simply divine!

Today was special because Sadie was baptized today. It was a sweet time of celebration. So many of our friends and family came to show their support. Throughout the service, she kept asking when was it going to be time. In her videotaped testimony, she said that the reason that she decided to get baptized was that she wanted everyone to know that she loves Jesus, the He is her Savior and that He is her Lord. She also talked about how Ethan led her to Jesus. It was a very special moment for our family.

Jay was asked to say a few words and here is what he said:

Ten years ago, Kelsey and I were baptized on the same Sunday in this church. It took us a lot longer to decide what you have already done in your short 8 years, Sadie. We are so proud of the choice you have made today. On your own, you have chosen to proclaim to your family, friends, and church that Jesus Christ is Lord of your life. Sadie, this is not the pinnacle of your journey with God. This is just another step that deepens your commitment to living out a Christ-centered life. We pray that you will continue to call upon Him in your time of need, that you will praise Him in the triumphs and in the defeats, and that you will understand that nothing surpasses knowing Him and being loved by Him.

I would like to close with this promise: Psalm 91:9-11
9 If you make the Most High your dwelling—
even the LORD, who is my refuge-
10 then no harm will befall you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
11 For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;

We finished the day with a lunch at our house, adding in a birthday celebration for my grandmother - 84!

I was checking the kids' Friday school folders this evening. Sorting through the papers, I realized how much my youngest is growing this year. Adding numbers, writing little sentences like, "I like to ski."

Slow down! I wanted to scream, "Slow down clock. You make me very uneasy." And then, just as I needed it, like a director said, "ACTION!" Lily came prancing into my room, her hair a little unkempt and scraggly, wearing unmatching pajamas, requesting a "Lily sandwich" from her parents. She still needs me. Just reassuring to know.

Games

You wanted to play board games tonight. My day had been full of plans and to-do lists, but I had made a promise. Even I had to agree that it was a rare opportunity to play without little Miss Lily's stubby little fingers grabbing at all the pieces and parts or her insistence on playing a game that was way too difficult for her 5 year old mind.

We sat at the table, originally planning on including Sadie. One little meltdown before the first tile was played eliminated her from the table. There we sat, just the two of us. I saw the eagerness in your eyes. I saw how much this time meant to you. You had worked so hard this afternoon to help around the house. You wanted to help me with my job to guarantee my attention later.

Our game of strategy began. You were playing with as much skill as you could muster for a 9 year-old who had stayed up well beyond the usual bedtime the night before. Your yawns were another indication that the bed was calling you. Your little half smile. Your little quirky comments. I sat back and soaked it all in.

It was clear early on that I would be the victor and so I suggested that we simply stop keeping score. It would be nice just to play for the fun of it. You moved a little closer to me. I rubbed your head. You were content, despite a complete defeat, to continue playing...just to be with me.

You saw the tiredness in my eyes. You made the ultimate sacrificial suggestion to me. "Let's just put the game away and head to bed. It's ok, Mommy." My eyes watered for a moment. My sweet, senstive son. Willing to pass up what you had labored to ensure earlier. Just for me.

Time crunch

My plate is full. Here is what has been dished out, slopped on, piled up for me:

1. School choices next year for my kiddos. In my mind I keep saying, "Really? You want me to do what? Are you kidding me?"

2. We have had an offer accepted on a new warehouse. The move is boggling enough. Trying to get it prepared for move-in pushes my brain into maximum capacity. Exciting growth, painful transition.

3. Jay is leaving town - possibly for 10 days. I don't want him to leave. We won a fantastic de-install project in NYC. It is a trade-off.

4. Terrible, I mean heinous, behavior week for Sadie last week. I was in tears for most of it. I cannot make her do what she is supposed to do, but if I could, I would. Why can't people understand that? I don't need another mother calling me to tell me she is worried about her heart. Like I am not.

5. Can't find my new glasses. They are in this house and yes, I have looked everywhere. I feel lost and my eyes are hurting again.

6. Dealt with the 3rd anniversary of her passing. Painful moments, passed quickly enough, moving on for now.

7. Office time, school time, kid time, swimming time, all not balanced well enough.

8. Leaving this weekend for a girls' weekend to scrapbook. Planned since November. Now how to arrange childcare for three kids. Not going smoothly...at all. Is it worth it?

9. A child that is continually not feeling well. No fever, but always headache, stomach ache. Aggravating.

Lastly,

10. A bible study that is awesome, but clearly outlines that ALL of the above has come between me and God.

A friend recently commented that she would like to hear more about my husband as he never appears in my blog. She is correct that he is mentioned only in passing. I guess the reason is that this is my self-created little world and when I write about the kids, they can't come back and complain or critique. Let's face it, they don't know this blog exists and definitely don't know that their antics provide much inspiration.

Therefore, on this Valentine's Day, a day of love, I dedicate this blog to my one and only.

My husband is the smartest person I know. Maybe that doesn't say much, or maybe it offends every one reading this blog. Sorry. There is nothing the man cannot do. If he doesn't know how, he will teach himself how...a consummate learner. During the course of our marriage, he has played raquetball, scuba dived, sewn curtains and slip covers, painted murals and walls, started his own business, baked bread from scratch, hand crafted the cabinets and built-ins for our home office, which is stunning I might add. He knows about everything it seems.

Lily's love

So, this is one of those weeks where I could deal with not being a mom any more...at least for a couple of days. Mothering is tough...tough...tough. But, before I get to the nitty gritty, let me recount a funny conversation I had with Lily, age 5:

Lily: I am going to marry Caleb.
Me: What?
Lily: I am going to marry Caleb, but he is going to marry Tristen. What can we do about that Mom?
Me: (giggling) Um. Lily. You don't need to worry about this stuff until you are much, much older.
Lily: Well, Caleb is 6. He is much older.

But...but....but...

I am in transition. It makes me weary, overloaded and burdened. I am not a crackerjack with transitions. A "go-with-the-flow" kind of gal, I am not. Therefore, when I find myself fluctuating between two worlds, I become a little controlling. Controlling, like a dictator along the lines of Mussolini, Duvalier and Pinochet. When I don't have responsibilities clearly defined for me, I spin like a mad top wiping out any who come my way. As the normal rhythm of my life becomes a mish mash of syncopated and staccato beats, I tighten my grip around the drummer to force some regularity. Squeezing the drummer is never a good thing. Never. (excuse #1)

Last week, we had some repair work completed on our water system - a well. We have had an above normal problem with our well since we built this house 5 years ago. The entire well pump has been replaced 2 times, along with multiple other issues. This time, when the repairman arrived he said, "You just can't stand not having us here, can you?" Lovely. This time the repairman had to remove the entire length of piping and replace it because it started leaking when we experienced an extreme cold snap in January. Whenever this type of repair gets made, it wrecks havoc on our water for the next 5 days or so. The result of which is bright orange colored, staining water. The orange derives from the rust and other mineral deposits that have become dislodged by the removal of the pipes and the "required by law" massive dumping of chlorine in the system. Every toilet, sink, tub becomes covered in the orange slime. I spend every day trying to prevent further staining of anything water touches. But, that was last week. (excuse #2)

I have reflected and pondered much on what is preventing me from taking that "next step" with my life. Having something I have written be published, losing weight, working out, finding a place where I can serve others, indecisiveness on many issues, for example. One conclusion is that I allow issues like the above (orange water) to prevent me from moving forward. Time management has ever been a great talent of mine. Yet, we all know we spend time on what we find important, right? (excuse #3)

Now that I think about it, there is always some wall, imagined or real, although I would venture to say mostly imagined, that blocks me from achieving much of anything significant. For example, I feed my kids because they would starve if I didn't. I accomplish that which is necessary, a requirement, something someone else depends on me doing. Am I doing anything that isn't required of me by others? (excuse #4)

I might be stagnant because it is comfortable in the still waters of the safe harbor. Is it fear that prevents me from hoisting the anchor and sailing out to the unknown? This whole writing thing, submitting articles, it takes some effort to figure out where and how. Why does my motivation stop after I click the "publish post" button on my blog? (excuse #5)

I am beginning to believe that I need to sacrifice something in order to achieve something beyond everyday survival. Sacrifice, give-up...that hour in the morning where I lounge around, drink coffee, sift through facebook, blog reading lists. The time I spend chatting with other moms during the kids' swim practice. The two chocolate turtles that I scarfed down right before I fell asleep. Those are fairly easy and I haven't made one step in that direction. What about the things that have resided so long and deeply in my clinched fist that they have grafted themselves into the deepest lines of my palms. I don't think I can complain, whine, or even contemplate inwardly about my heart's discontent if I am not taking a scalpel to remove them. (excuse #6)

Which leads me to my final conclusion, brought to the light through my bible study. My actions reflect a complacency that has become an idol to me. An idol that prevents me from a lot, but most importantly prevents me from going where God wants me to go and who God wants me to be. Here is where it gets a bit painful...I worship the status quo and I worship the time I spend COMPLAINING ABOUT IT. My treasure is always coming up with excuses as to why I have unrealized dreams. I have become the master of it. I have allowed excuses to dominate my life. I have allowed the laziness and lounging of my mind to prevent me from "doing." The excuses, however well-crafted and circumstantially supported at the time, are really lies and seriously..I am very, very good at them.

I begin a new chapter in my study today...no more excuses.

If that weren't enough...here is a passage from my study:

Even when you have these grandiose plans, spiritual plans nonetheless, things can unexpectedly turn. I suppose that's why I'm writing all this in regard to this week's homework, because there will alwyas be a million nagging tugs on our time and attention, and somewhere in the middle of all the tugging it is essential we build a fortress wherein only God, His words, and our heart exist together for a time. It rarely happens accidently.

Amazing Feats

Sadie, who had been tucked into bed for 15 minutes, came into my bedroom holding a piece of paper. The paper was from her notepad of blue paper with little gray and white kittens on the bottom.

"Mom," she said, "I made you my grocery list." My eyes got a little wider and I said, "Ok."

She bent over to me and shared her neat little list which was numbered. My guess is that she felt the need to "go over it" with me to ensure there were no mistakes.

The list was entitled, "Sadie's grocries" (that is not my typo, nor are any following this - it is how Sadie wrote it)

1. Get pulups,
2. orange juice,
3. seedless oranges,
4. Green apples,
5. strawberrys
6. blueberrys, and
7. fabreeze for bathroom

Type A? Undoubtedly. Clear, concise, detailed and numbered. She just amazes me sometimes. It is a list that exhibits healthy eating habits and concerns about personal hygiene. I am not quite sure about #7, but at least she wants things smelling good. The vast and ever-changing worlds in which this child vacillates...so unpredictable. Guess I am going to the store tomorrow!

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Less than a year ago, we joined the YWCA in order to spend some family time together swimming during the cold-ish NC winter months. The kids weren't what I would call even "decent" swimmers. Neither Ethan nor Sadie could swim the length of the pool doing any legal stroke, their stroke a loosely defined doggy paddle. I think, Sadie, the first time, even used a swim belt (more out of our fear than probably her need). Nevertheless, the were not secure in the water at all.

Today, after 8 months of swim team/practice, Ethan had a chance to swim with the next level of swimmers at our practice site. He swam a total of 60 laps in the pool; that is the equivalent to 1500 yards, just 10 shy of a mile. He swam sets of butterfly, breast, free and back throughout the practice. Amazing what their bodies can learn and can achieve. It was a shining moment for him, I think. His coach was really proud of his focus and desire to work hard. We have come a long, long way in a year.

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There have been some hard and difficult issues that one of my children has had to face at school. Children, including one of my own, have been the target of name calling, inappropriate behavior and physical interactions that are quite below acceptable. My concern is for my child, but on equal footing, my heart is tender towards the child who is the perpetrator and his parents.

My own views of child rearing have drastically changed over the last 9 years. How funny to think I actually believed I could control and force the desired behavior of my children. I know that is why God gave me the three He did - so unique in their personalities, in talents, in love languages. My job is to guide, teach, correct and love them. It is their choice whether to obey or not. Guiding is my role, the rest is left them and God. It is not a reflection of me as a person, as a parent. It is a picture of their relationship with God.

We, as adults, live exactly the same way. God guides, teaches, corrects us, all the while never wavering in His love for us. However, we turn away from Him daily, even when we know better. If we can't always have it together, why in the world do I think my children can? Sometimes I feign disbelief over some of their unfathomable choices, but really, I shouldn't. It is just their natural tendency to wander from the One that love them most.

My prayers these days are not for perfectly listening, well-behaved, obedient little robots - although wouldn't that be nice? It is for them to have their hearts tuned into God. For them to develop into the perfectly unique and spirit controlled beings that long for Him. I can see the difference in their lives, little bit by little bit. The apologies are more readily offered, initiated from within their hearts. The voice is humble and sincere. The desire to change flows from their souls.

The fighting, the lack of respect, the sassy backtalk, the whining, the blatant disobedience will never completely go away. Lessen, hopefully, but sure to cycle round again. God has called me to be a mom and at those times I cry out to Him, "Who am I?" as Moses did in Exodus. In those hours of doubt, stress, confusion, disappointment and utter defeat, I will remember God's response: "I will be with you."

Too Much Going On...

Swim meet this past weekend in South Carolina. Ski weekend coming up at Sugar Mountain. Need new health insurance plan for the business - must investigate this week. Too much going on.

Kids put on a good show at the meet. Sadie willed herself to finish her first 100 butterfly. She panicked a bit before the race, but I just shuffled her along to Rob who pumped her up. She started crying toward the end of the first 50, but pushed on, I am sure, because of a great deck parent cheering her on. At the turn of the 75, she saw the light. With about 15 to go she actually surged ahead with a little power. As she touched the final wall, you could hear the crowd was really behind her. Her coach pulled her out of the pool and lavished a lot of praise. She discovered that she loves a cheering crowd, but who doesn't? During this meet, I think she found a new love though - the breast stroke.

Ethan had a great Saturday with his technique (according to the coach) and a Sunday full of dropped times. He is so funny about swimming. He really likes it, but seems totally unphased by what others are doing. He just works along, pretty steady, content with his improvement.

I love the group of families that we swim with. If you are going to spend three days a week and a weekend a month with a group of people, this is it. And, Bob, if you are reading this, I include Jones family in that group.

Jay had Lily duty and despite the fact that he did not brush her hair the entire weekend, he did well. They took long naps, watched movies, did a few errands. She didn't cry this time when I left which means that she had every one of her heart's desires met while I was gone the last swim meet. Detox time.

Health plan at work decided to go up 30%. They have been terrible from the start. I am still fighting coverage on my MRI, recommended by every doctor and paid for by every other insurance plan. I am also fighting their charge for our H1N1 shots despite the fact that every other insurance company is paying for that administration as well. Now, I must tackle the daunting task of investigating our options. Sometimes, small business stinks.

Planning for Sugar Mountain and skiing this weekend with another family. Totally unprepared. At least we have the right clothes, but everything else is left to be decided. Now, Jay wants to go up on Friday morning so we can make the afternoon session. I sit here wondering...do I really even like skiing? Debatable. At least it is good family time.

Random thoughts

I wrote the following collection of scattered thoughts over the past several days. The thoughts smack of triviality in light of the catastrophe in Haiti. I hesitate to post them. However, this is my life, as out of focus it may be at times. I also think of the people living in abject poverty every day through out the world. What am I doing for them? But for the grace of God it could be me. With renewed feelings of extreme gratefulness and gratitude to have the following experiences and thoughts, I post.

Tonight, I was helping Lily take a bath. She loves to talk, babbling incessantly without much thought as to what is coming out of her mouth. She says to me, "Today, we did 'science' at lunch." I responded, "Oh. What did you do?" Lily said, "We put yogurt in our water and then we added some food." "Lily, that isn't called 'science,' that is called 'playing with your food.' You better watch it because you will get in trouble for it." She paused and chose not to say anything else on this topic.

I don't understand Sarah Palin. I mean, I am a card carrying member of the Republican party. I will never vote for her, ever. Who is driving her train? My best guess is that it is the media. The more they portray her as the "shining light of party," the more those of us on the fringe closest to left of the party start believing that she is the core of what it believes rather than the freakish, far right. Surely this benefits "the other side" of which most of the media is card carrying members.

I just know way too much about her personal life, more than any other elected official, and she is not that anymore. (The names of her children, out of wedlock grandchild, even the boyfriend/father in Playgirl - the fact that he posed, not the pictures themselves) Well, maybe we ALL know more about "that dress" and Bill Clinton than we needed. And, I do recall Dick Cheney has a lesbian daughter. Useless pieces of information people. Useless garbage taking space in my brain. I don't need to know any more about her than I do Jon & Kate plus 8. And yet, the media keeps going on and on and on.

I hear people say that they feel they can relate to her. She is just an average hockey mom. Or, someone will say I will vote for this person because they are like me. I believe that I am far too simple-minded for that to be a good thing. I don't want "to be able to sit around" and have a glass of wine, or beer with Barack Obama. As our president, he should be above me in intellect, in education, in knowledge, in experiences. He shouldn't be "common man," right? C'mon people, we are electing the leader of the free world, not choosing our next dinner club members.

Library Books. Why can't we keep up with them? It doesn't matter whether they are from the school library or the city library. We lose them - in the car, in other peoples' cars, all over the house, even at school. We turn them into the wrong location, creating confusion for everyone. We get overdue fines (from the city) and reminder slips (from the school). We have paid money for books we never located. You just have to love spending money on something you lost. If anyone out there has a process for keeping up with library books, please let me know. I am afraid to go there any more.

Peanut Butter Chocolate Spread. Yes, it exists and it is heavenly. Like putting a spreadable Reese's cup on bread. It is at WalMart - peanut butter aisle. I wonder why I can't drop these last 5 - 6 pounds.

Once again, a particular family member is moving. Once again, I feel the need to scoop up any discarded furniture or items of memory. Among this move's loot, are voluminous boxes over flowing with crafting supplies. I will never need take a trip to Hobby Lobby for a child's project again. Paint, glue, feathers, markers, Styrofoam balls, enough beads and parts to make 100 necklaces, clay, sponges, brushes, nifty little craft knives...you name it, my sister bought it. She really had two obsessions - funky folk art and craft/scrapbooking supplies. I have now been the recipient of both. Her distinct smell is still all over these things which make me weepy. I wish she were here to use them with me.

Lately, my heart has heard the cry of a little baby, possibly a child. I don't mean this in the literal sense like I am hearing voices. I mean, a little desire is stirring in my soul to bring another into our family. I know I am a bit crazy, but this idea of adoption has always been out there in my thoughts. It is a little louder at the moment. I pray that God will open or close the door to this thought and for my spirit to calm and at peace.

One last thought to Haiti...I find it interesting that I wrote the morning of the earthquake in Haiti about some of the responses to the Tsunami in 2004 being the wrath of God. It has happened again; this time with Pat Robertson. Speechless.

Specks

After yesterday's post, I realized that either 1) it was maybe too serious 2) it didn't make sense or 3) offended too many. Regardless, I am still going to write about it. Probably several entries, in fact. In the meantime, however, I will break up the arduous and formidable topic with this little tale from my life.

A sign of my body succumbing to illness is when my eyes become tired and sore. Not just achy but the eyeballs themselves throb and pound. The only relief is a very hot washcloth on my eyes, liberal amounts of water, and massive amounts of sleep. Over the past couple of years, I noticed that my eyes were more sore than they weren't.

Beginning in September, this little symptom started snowballing. I felt it every day, particularly at night. I could not keep my eyes open. Just painful. I just knew a terrible combination of illnesses were waiting for me the very next morning - a boiling pot of pneumonia, flu, bronchitis, topped of by the worst sinus infection of all time. Headaches began their decent by mid morning each day and I decided I could wait not longer. To the doctor I went.

Despite a series of doctor appointments, a round of antibiotics and nasal decongestant, nothing changed. To make matters worse, another condition developed, too - jaw clenching and some teeth grinding. My doctor suspicions began to grow and he decided to order an MRI to see exactly what was going on with all of these symptoms. It showed nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zippo.

The holidays came and went. I began to tire more easily resulting in my bedtime rolling in around 8. All I wanted to do was close my eyes. I decided I needed lots of vitamins, exercise and water. Unfortunately, this didn't change my fatigue, instead it gave me gas and muscle soreness.

Last week, while I was cleaning out my nightstand, I contemplated calling the doctor...again. But, what was he going to do? Blood work? I was in a bit of a quandary. I was organizing this drawer when I spied something shoved way in the back. I had not seen this in several years. I opened it up. Low and behold, after using it, my eye aches, my clenching, my headaches have all gone away. It has been miraculous!

What did I find, you ask? Why, the glasses that were prescribed to me about 4 years ago that haven't been on my face in about 2 years!

I do have a couple pairs of reading glasses that get tossed around in my pocketbook. I bring them out whenever the print is too small for me to read. Usually, though, I don't take the time to get them out, opting to deepen my frown lines by squinting my way through it. For the last two years, I have been a more consistent blogger and computer user which, without a doubt, has caused the eye irritation and headaches. I promptly made an appointment with my optometrist to have an exam and update my prescription. In the meantime, I will be sporting my old specks all the time. Sometimes we just can't see the obvious.

Our Human Box

Christianity: The belief that a cosmic Jewish Zombie who was his own father can make you live forever if you symbolically eat his flesh and telepathically tell him you accept him as your master, so he can remove an evil force from your soul that is present in humanity because a rib-woman was convinced by a talking snake to eat from a magical tree.

No, I didn't write that. Someone else did. I have read it several times. The words themselves, the word choices are fairly accurate, with the exception of the word "Zombie." Still, three things are missing, well, more like dismissed in this quote. (in addition to the most obvious fact that the writer is not a believer). I will touch on two today, the third one tomorrow.

Edward Said, a literary critic, culled the term the "Other" - people who seem to foreign in some truth that we consider them alien to us. The statement above is evidence of someone ignoring the magnitude of who God is and then trying to cram Him, "the Other," into a human viewpoint. God does not fit into our box, people. God transcends all that we know on this earth, so we cannot use our simple words to pare down who He really is. To insist on full understanding is nothing but futility.

Jan Winebrenner in, "The Grace of Catastrophe" explains this well when she writes, "God is infinite, and our finite minds cannot grasp all that He is, all that He wants to be to us, all that He is doing, and all the He wants to do for us. We are incapable of fully plumbing the depths of God, His character, His plans, His goals; nor can we completely comprehend the strength of His love, the passion of His pursuit of us, the length to which He will go to make Himself known to us."

God, in His own voice, explains this to us in scripture:
My thoughts are not your thoughts.
nor are your ways My ways, declares the Lord.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are My ways higher than your ways
and My thoughts than your thoughts.
Isaiah 55:8-9

Yet, how often do we try to understand life through our own lenses and not through His word? We simplify Him. We water down His power, dilute His strength, weaken His word. We interpret His motives and His actions to fit our lives. It makes it easier to justify our own actions, our choices, and the events happenings around us because we think we have the power to fully understand Him. It is tempting, almost irresistible to judge and make assumptions about circumstances, causes, and consequences.

In 2004 an earthquake hit the Indian Ocean. The force unleashed was estimated to have released the energy of 23,000 Hiroshima-type atomic bombs, according to the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS). The resulting tsunami killed over 150,000 and left millions homeless. It pained me to hear believers interpret this event as the wrath of God on an ignorantly-perceived God-less society. It amazed me they had the audacity to claim to know the purpose behind such a catastrophe. The lack of humility that came with such a statement overwhelmed me. The focus had shifted off of their desperate need for God and into a position of false enlightenment.

The other component missing from that statement is love which is inseparable from God. He cannot be anything but full of love because that is fully His nature. A love we cannot fully experience on earth. The well-quoted scripture, "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only son..." (John 3:16) And again in 1 John 4:10, "This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins."

Our Enemy loves for us to "create and imagine" our God. Winebrenner says again, "We forget the truth about him, about His character, about the nature of His love for us and the "kind intention of His will" Ephesians 1:5." We consistently fail to grasp that God's love is "totally other." It operates solely from Him, unique to Him and not on our timetable, our plans or our circumstances.

I don't presume to know what the writer's life is like. I do know that that our Enemy does not want us to believe that God loves us. He goes to great lengths to prevent us from experiencing it, from believing in it. I see it in my own life every day. It comes in whispers in my ear, challenging what I know is true in God's word and about His character.

Are you resolved today to listen to His voice through His word and to feel His love that without fail tries to hold you?

I'll end with this quote from Larry Crabb, "There's more to knowing God than we dare imagine. It's time to put aside our cynicism and come to God, waiting consciously and deliberately, and with discipline for the Spirit to delight our souls with the rich fare of God."

In Search of Justice

As a mother of girls, I take some effort into procuring clothing that is properly fitting, cute, yet age appropriate and made decently enough that it can withstand the rigours of the roughness and accident-proness of daughter #1 in order to be passed down to daughter #2. I care about my son, too, but you'll soon understand why he does not need to be included in this post.

We are at a transition period with daughter #1, age 8. I learned to pick my battles with her attire early on, giving her a day here and there to make her own choices. Otherwise, we have a few standard rules that she has to obey. Thankfully, she is at a school where the main pieces of clothing are dictated to her. Yes, uniforms. Yet, I recognized over the summer that I needed to at least hear her out when she said, "You just don't know fashion, Mom."

I asked several moms of her friends exactly where does one go when you start aging out of Gymboree-type clothing? Their response: Justice. (and a crowd of tween girls start going wild). They didn't warn me, but I will send up some cautionary flares for you.

On our first trip, my daughter walked in there and thought she had died and gone to heaven. She swooned and pined over the tick-tackiest, heaped on bling-iest, eye-gouging colored clothes in the store, of which there were plenty. Lest I forget to mention to you our discovery of racks and piles of toys, lip gloss, hair accessories stuffed into every corner and every rack of clothing. Of course, it was always "on sale" and further encouraged at the cashier station. Daughter #1 lit up like a Christmas tree at the glory of it all. The music? Of course blaring, sounding like a hyped-up Cyndi Lauper on crystal meth. Just another work-them-into-a-riot marking device.

And if I thought there might be a bargain here, I was quickly corrected. T-shirts: $25.00. A t-shirt that you can see your hand through - a simple t-shirt with a very basic silk-screened design on it.

I'll give the marketing and merchandising leaders credit where credit is due. They have created a den that works even the most shy and meek little girl into a frenzy. You walk into the store, believing that you are there for clothes and you walk about with 2 webkinz, a My Little Pet Shop gift set and some charm bracelet.

I was sorely prepared for this adventure. I was cajoled into purchasing two pieces of the "add-ons"- a lipgloss bracelet contraption and another tube of sparkly gloss. Seriously, I think at that point the neon coloring that adorned just about every item in the store had worked on my mental acuity. I caved. A week later, I found it melting under the back seat of the car, creating a strawberry scented cesspool. The other unfortunate chap stick was taken away by her "obsessed with no make-up on my child" dad within minutes of leaving the store.

Overpriced? Yes. Shopped and worn by every girl from grades 2 - 7? Yes. Much to my chagrin, we have a store credit burning a hole in Daughter #1's pocket. We plan on going this Saturday. Let the pep talks being now, because I will not walk out of that store with anything made of unnatural fibers, metal or plastic.

As my children age, I hear I can look forward to the next step in the "popular shopping chain" . A poorly-lit store that will require me to carry a flashlight to navigate my way to more overpriced, poorly made junk all the while listening to more ear blasting music. I hear I might need to stock up on my claritin because there will be no store "models" to come to my aid lest I have an allergy attack from inhaling the overwhelming aroma of cologne. I believe they are paid to ignore customers.

Thankful for the Warmth

Sing with me to this familiar doxology with new words...

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow,
Praise Him for garages when it's cold.
Praise Him for the heat in my car.
Praise Him for coats, hats, a glove and a scarf.
Amen.

Longest cold spell since 1977 hitting our area. Too cold for me, period. The use of the word "glove" in the singular was not a typo. I lost a glove somewhere between my car and the check-out at the grocery. Retracing my steps produced nothing. It is a painful thing to happen when 1) it is this cold 2) it is after Christmas and all the remaining stock of gloves has been replaced by bathing suits (it is NC, afterall) and 3) you have small hands for an adult, some refering to them as "muppet hands" thus greatly reducing your choice of gloves even in the best of selections.

I have never, in my life, been so thankful for the warmth I have this season. My heart is particularly tuned in to those riding bicycles, waiting at bus stops and for those that don't have that option. Praise God that I do. Have you thanked Him for that blessing today?

Exposed

Well, I panicked yesterday. I thought I had exposed too much, yet again. It wasn't that I didn't want anyone to read my posts. It was that I didn't want it plastered all over facebook like I was announcing, "Look what I have done! Look what I can do! Everyone pat me on the back." For some reason this time, multiple stories I had written showed up on the news feed of my friends. Basically, it all boiled down to me messing around with technology that I really didn't understand how to use.

When I was alerted to this fact, I thought it was clogging up facebook, people's profiles, etc. I was also told that I should be concerned because it was like my personal diary and personal thoughts. I realized the person telling me this had not read my blog before because it is pretty obvious that my blog is all about the personal and private - from the triumphs to the failures and all in between. I don't really hold much back.

I link my blog to the outside world because I think others might find the subject matter relatable. If I am going through it, then someone else is, too. Sometimes I post because I need comforting or affirmation of my parenting. Writing is the cheapest form of therapy for me. Other times, my life is just so ridiculous, that I think that it needs sharing. I can laugh at it, so can others.

What came out of "my mistake" yesterday was really fantastic. I had three conversations with parents at my kids' school who had been dealing with the same issues in their house. Some had suggestions, some just provided comfort. One was considering an ENT referral, but was now thinking urological. One person provided much comfort about the tests Sadie will undergo, having been there with her daughter. And one offered to have her child, recently solved of the issue, to provide support to Sadie. I received some wonderful encouragement and enlightenment from other parents who also parent children like Sadie. Here are several comments:

"It was exactly what I needed to give me perspective for what has been going on between my daughter and me."

"Your words that Sadie often uses the word "embarrassing" hit home with me in a way that you will never know. My daughter tells me that all the time. It was a light bulb for me. Her idea that she is a tough girl makes it embarrassing that she needs me to help her. I constantly tell her that if she came on this earth knowing how to handle everything, then there would be no need for God to make parents. He would just plop us here and send us on our way."

The world is such a different place for our little girls. They are trying so hard to compete at such high levels finding their place in a world where people think of equality now, versus that of God's design. They want to be tough like boys, but don't know how to balance that with their natural feminine instincts. It can be particularly more difficult for little girls who have issues in their lives that they find embarrassing so perhaps they search for other means to prove that they are okay."

"I just thought you should know that with kids who carry things so close to their heart it can be challenging and I understand what you are feeling."

I also received much encouragement from friends to keep plugging along this mothering trail:

"Hearing your words just re-enforced what Tripp says in Shepherding a Child's Heart--it's not their behavior we focus on; it's what is going on in their hearts. We parents can help our kids experience cleansing and wholeness as they learn to delete these fears, wounds, and unrealistic expectations from their little hearts.Hopefully, you will have the joy of a mother watching her adult child who has THROWN OFF EVERY ENCUMBRANCE AND THE SINS WHICH SO EASILY BESET HER and is running her race of life!Blessings to you in your mothering."

She is one of my favorite kids....I love her spunk...she reminds me of my daughter in many ways...

"Aren't you thankful when the Holy Spirit allows us to see a little deeper and reveal a little more about one of the Lord's precious creations!"

Finally, I was overwhelmed at the response to me, as a "writer." I didn't know how many of you read this little corner of the world of mine. To clarify, I know the general numbers of who checks out my blog daily, but I do not have names. How enjoyable it was for me to hear many of you comment on facebook. Glad I can provide some free entertainment for you, although I know I am on the greater receiving end.

On a last note regarding transparency, a topic I refer to often, let me quote a comment I received on something I wrote I while ago.

"This post feels like a pep talk for anyone (such as myself) that follows Christ out on a limb and then needs to remind themselves of why they went out there. Saying something is too personal is just an excuse to remain comfortable...and I'm right there with you, sick of comfy and ready for real! Keep it up!"
Thank you for comforting me in my time of anxiety and panic. I love the dialogue and comments although I can't always respond. If the your comments and life experiences are encouraging to me, then they are to others as well. Keep them up!


For God did not destine us for wrath, but to gain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us, so that whether we are awake or asleep we may live together with him. Therefore, encourage one another and build one another up, as indeed you do.
Thessalonians 5:9-11

You lost your second tooth tonight. I can hardly stand to see the change in you you. I am not really sure whether I want to cry because you are growing up on me so quickly. Or, whether I want to giggle at your newly acquired lisp and silly little smile.

An Overlooked Heart

I think it is fair to say that as a general rule, anyone who has met my Sadie doesn't easily forget her. Sometimes it is positive, and sometimes it isn't. Either way, she is compelling and intriguing, I think. Smart, crazy, tough, athletic, artistic, creative, curious, motivated, impulsive. Did I say crazy? But, the one thing that often goes unnoticed is her sensitivity. Even I, as her mother, often believe she is tougher than the reality of what is churning in her little heart.

Two recent events have opened my eyes to something I often overlook in my second child.

The first happened on New Year's Eve. Actually the ball start rolling a day earlier at swim practice; the ball became a destructive force the day after. This is the time of year when her swim coach sits down with each of the kids to assess their progress and revise goals for the year. Sadie's great love is swimming. She discovered it this summer and hasn't stopped since. She begs for more and more and now practices three afternoons a week. Sadie is a good swimmer with the potential to be a great swimmer. Her coach believes that her body was made for swimming the butterfly and in time the possibilities are there. Right now, however, is another story. Is she at the top of her age division? Hardly. But, her perception is that she is a much faster swimmer than reality. Her coach, understandably, wants to start bridging the gap between what goes on at practice with what goes on at meets. He wants the kids to be more aware of their times in each event and concentrate on what their bodies are doing in the water to improve their times. Therefore, he encouraged Sadie to ask me to show her her times.

I was not receptive to this idea. She is 8. This should all be about fun, right? I tell the kids when they have dropped or gained time, but they are not given information on their standings in comparison to others or how close they are to their first standard, which is called a "B" time. I don't want them to have that pressure, yet. I never viewed it as a matter of incentive, really, and certainly never thought through her possible reaction to this full disclosure. Yet, I still questioned the coach about this, and he assured me she was ready. It would be a great motivator for Sadie, who is a very "tough kid."

Forward to New Year's Eve. Right after lunch Sadie came to me and asked me to show her her times. They are all on the computer so we sat down on the bed and I began. "Here is your time." I said. "And what is the B time?" Sadie responded. "Ummm, well, here." I said. Her eyes opened wide. "What about my other events?" I showed her each of the comparisons. Her face scrunched up, the tears welled up in her eyes and she shouted, "I am horrible at swimming. I am never going to swim again!" She flung herself on the bed. Whoa - I was not expecting this severe reaction at all. Where was my tough Sadie, the one who always let things roll off her back? I spent the next 4+ hours dealing with wailing, frustration, and as much depression as an 8 year old can muster. I was pretty ticked with her coach for pushing this issue. I used every bit of reasoning and information I had. Yet, nothing changed the utter devastation that showed on her face, mirroring what her heart was feeling.

Finally, in the car outside of the restaurant where we were to meet 20 other people for dinner, I said, "Sadie, why did you choose to swim?" Her response, "Because I love it and I love how I feel strong in the water." "Well, that hasn't changed because of your times. That is all I am going to say about it. You need to decide what you want to do and let me know." I answered. About halfway through dinner, Sadie came over to me and said, "Mom, I need to tell you something. I have decided I am still going to swim." I said, "Ok. Great." Relief.

As a side note, at the next practice, Sadie was more focused and determined. Maybe her coach knew something after all. Sorry, Coach Rob. Good thing I couldn't find your cell number on New Year's Eve.

The second incident happened yesterday. Sadie has never stayed dry at night. Ever. Every year at the pediatrician's office we ask about this. The answer is always, "We're not worried; she will grow out of it." We have always believed that her inability to stay dry is because Sadie is an incredibly deep sleeper. Sadie sleeps like the dead. You cannot wake her up. We have offered up every incentive for a dry night, including a much coveted American Girl doll. We have also doled out some verbal warnings and minor discipline. We have tried all types of devices to help her, including a special alarm that goes off when it detects wetness. The buzz is supposed to train your brain to recognize the signal it is receiving from your body. Unfortunately, Sadie just sleeps through the alarm. We tried having her sleep in our room so that I could get to her by the time the alarm buzzed. The result was that alarm went off, I walked a still sleeping Sadie to the bathroom, while she peed on the floor the entire way. She never woke up.

At her last check-up, I firmly stated that I didn't feel comfortable "waiting for her to grow out of it" anymore. At 8 years-old, she is embarrassed by this fact, going to great lengths to hide it. Sleepovers are becoming more frequent and she is terrified that someone will make fun of her. Therefore, the doctor made us an appointment with an urologist. We had this appointment yesterday.

It didn't take long for the doctor to strongly believe that Sadie has some "bladder malfunction." One reason is that even after urinating, she still had 4-5 oz of urine in her bladder. Our other answers to his questions continued to confirm that there are some physical problems, completely out of her control. In addition, the stress of not being able to control her bladder has probably created another set of problems. Our next step is a series of tests this coming Thursday. He went through some details of what this would mean to Sadie and said that it shouldn't hurt, despite his use of the word, "catheter". Sadie seemed to be taking it all in stride. In fact, she even announced that she was "happy" because she would be able to get rid of the pull-ups. We left the appointment and I dropped her off at school without another thought. What a tough girl, right?

When I arrived at school to pick up the kids, I immediately recognized that something was not right with Sadie. Anguish, fear and a bit of panic was on her face. Evidently, her mind had been fixated on these tests. Mentally, she had worked herself into a paranoid frenzy. She was starting to break down in tears so we quickly walked to the car. When we got home, she ran to my room, and began to cry. She refused to talk to me about it and after about 20 minutes fell asleep. I know that the emotional trauma of the "unknown test" had wiped her out physically. Even when she woke up, she continued to cry and refuse to talk to me about it, claiming she was too embarrassed. Her only real answer to me was that she was not going to have the tests done. With enough coaxing, a discussion of my own encounters with medical tests and then a girls' trip to Starbucks after dinner, she opened up about her fears which we addressed. She felt relief and more at peace with Thursday.

My tough Sadie, is really not that tough at all. I make that statement not using a haughty, bullying sort of tone. I make that statement with enlightenment and understanding. I have often dismissed her heart because she is so very tough physically and seemed to let the difficulties of life bounce around her exterior, not penetrating her skin. Instead, she internalizes her deepest emotions and fears, squashing them deep down to fester and worry her. When younger, Sadie could be outlandish in her communications. Always to the extreme ends of the spectrum - crazy exuberance to the most horrific tantrums and fits. In my desire to teach her moderation and appropriateness, I am sure I magnified to these innate inclinations in her.

I also learned that Sadie has a difficult time talking about matters of the heart. She often uses the word "embarrassing." It is natural to me that she should view me as the one person on this earth that she can talk to about anything without shame. Rather, it appears I might be the most difficult one. I spent a large amount of our time at Starbucks and in the car ride affirming my role as her confidant. Her response and new-found willingness melted my heart.

Although the swimming incident and this doctor visit were two very trying and emotional situations to handle, I thank God for allowing me this insight into my child. I can build the foundation for our communication now so hopefully, the teenage years will have something from which to work. I will no longer overlook her tough, yet sensitive little heart.

I love you, Sadie. With all of my heart, I love you.

Lily's Prayer

God,
You know,
Even when you don't want to eat them, you have to eat your brussel sprouts.
And, God, thank you for my tooth being lost.
And God, thank you that you can fix everything and make everything better.
Thank you for my dinner and brussel sprouts.
I love you, God.
Amen.

Confession time: We have two girls who still wear pull-ups at night. They are 8 and 5. To be very fair, Sadie truly cannot help that she is still wearing pull-ups. Lily, well, is still in them because Sadie is and I have been too lazy to really end this "convenience." However, she is dry about 2 times a week so I know the transition should be easy.

Sadie sleeps like the dead. You cannot wake her up. We have tried everything with her. This includes an alarm that goes off when it detects wetness. The buzz is supposed to train your brain to recognize the signal it is receiving from your body. Unfortunately, Sadie just sleeps through the alarm. We tried having her sleep in our room so that I could get to her by the time the alarm . The result was that alarm went off and I walked a still sleeping Sadie to the bathroom, all the while she was peeing the entire way. She never woke up.

Her pediatrician has been very laid back about the entire situation claiming that she would eventually grow out of it. However, as she as become more aware of her need for a "diaper" at night, her embarrassment has grown. It is beginning to impede sleep overs and I know that she really wants to stay dry, but when her eyelids close, she has no control. An appointment has been made with an urologist to hear what possible solutions exist since we have used up everything the pediatrician has suggested.

So, two nights ago, I saw that we were low on pull-ups and made the decision not to buy any more. It was time to try again. New year, new resolves, you know. Last night, we put Lily on a pallet on our floor with the alarm. For Sadie, we limited bedding, cranked up a space heater and said some prayers. We did what is always recommended, no liquids after 7 am, taking a bathroom trip around 11.

How did we do? Lily stayed dry! I didn't sleep, as I was on edge waiting for the alarm, but she woke up cork dry. Sadie...well, she stayed dry, too. She did get up in the night to use the bathroom - a major milestone. Unfortunately, she chose the carpet as her toilet. That is why we have a chargeable mini-steam cleaner ready, at all times.

I feel quite encouraged, though somewhat ashamed we did not start this journey with Lily sooner. As for Sadie, I am looking forward to hearing what the doctor might be able to do to help. Here's to dryness.

Facebook Crackbook

Question: If our world continuously provides ways of faster and more immediate means of communicating with others, then why do most of us feel very "unconnected, isolated and alone?"

I have been mulling over that which is "facebook" for a while. There are times when it seems to completely consume me (Crackbook) and then other times I don't check it for several days or a week. My interest in facebook began a year and a half ago when I was recuperating from back surgery. My long-time friend, Angela, suggested it to me as a great way to kill time. She was correct in that assessment. Later, my focus on facebook was driven by my pending high school reunion. As part of the committee, it was invaluable tool through which we found classmates and organized the reunion. That was in October. Now, I am not too sure why I am still lingering around those parts.

Most assuredly, facebook satisfies some basic surface connections, but over time it stays just there, never going deeper. You know all bits of trivial information about people, like what they cooked for dinner, how busy their weekend was and how accurate they are at weather updates (as if I can't look out the window). Yet, something is clearly missing.


Do I really need to know that much mundane, monotonous information about my friends? More poignantly, is it replacing a deeper level of connection that satisfies that longing of every soul - to feel as if he matters?

What I find happening through facebook is that you just stop talking...with your voice. You read these little bits and pieces of people's lives and think you have made a connection. You begin to believe you "know them." In reality, no meaningful, heart-filling exchange has taken place. No one knows you, who you really are and you know nothing short of how your friend's children made the honor roll. It becomes isolating and lonely. Before you know it, you begin to believe that the world is moving without you.

I am in a bit of a quandary over this one. Would deactivating my account make me "unreachable?" Hardly. I am in the phone book, I do have this blog and I do have an email account. Those that want to stay in touch will and those that don't are probably not friends I had prior to facebook. Deactivating would also mean more face time, a forced reason to call people, and more time to do just about everything during some weeks. I think it also means more time to devote to writing, something I clearly love more than facebook.

The Saga Continues

STOP! Before reading further you must have read this entry:

My Cupholder Runneth Over as well as snippets from this entry and the very end of this one.


So, I start loading some things into the trunk of my car this morning after the kids had left for school. Just some things I needed to return to their owners. Imagine what I find! Why, lookie there, it is the kids' swim bag. The swim bag they last used 5 DAYS AGO, still sitting in the trunk of my car, filled to the brim with wet towels, suits, etc. Guess what today is? Swim practice day. Guess who doesn't have anything to wear but stinky swimsuits and nothing to dry their bodies' off with but damp moldy towels??!?! Guess who is learning a lesson... TODAY!!!

Ok, I admit it. I am not nearly as terrible as my bite. As much as I wanted to show up with nothing or the filth bag, I didn't. My reasoning was 1) we pay too much for these lessons for my kids not to swim and 2) a big swim meet is only two weeks away and my kids need all the practice they can get. I know, I am weak and my excuses are flimsy.

I had just enough time to throw the pungent contents of the bag, less the new sham-wow type swim towel, into the wash. I grabbed some extra towels upstairs and some sweats from the recently folded laundry and headed out the door with freshly smelling swim suits.

I did have one more thing up my sleeve, however. Once the kids got in the car from school, I pretended, just for a little bit that I did not take care of the bag. They thought they had nothing to wear except for nastiness. I saw shock, disbelief and this question came out of their mouths, "Mom, what are we going to do?"

My reply: Get your gear out of the car every time. Now, look in the back and get your swim bag; it has clean clothes in it.

It was nice tonight to see each child bring in their back pack, lunch box, swim bag, clothes, etc. We are making some progress.

Party Pooper

As if the holidays were not already crazy with to-do lists, Jay and I pack it in further with unending entertaining. We just can't get enough of our friends and family, I guess. Maybe it is the need to spread the love during this season. Perhaps we feel that entertaining is our way to give back to our friends for their gifts of love to us during the year. Since we both do not have the gifts of mercy, maybe we see this as some price for our lack of understanding or compassion throughout the year. Please forgive us, friends, now eat some cake. Or, possibly, we are just glutens for fun and frivolity. Of course, it might be the obvious. We have the best friends and family in the world and can't stand not having them with us, sometimes multiple times, through out the most wonderful time of year.

So, this evening, on January 1, after all of my immediate family has left the house, I plopped into a chair. 5 nights/days of entertaining this month and I am pooped. Time to gather up my house, put away the serving platters, pastry server, and take back the chafing dishes I borrowed from a friend.

I literally picked up our Christmas welcome mat this evening and didn't put our year-round one down. Not because visitors are no longer welcome. It is because Dixie decided to use it as her pee mat and after so many washings, it isn't coming clean.

Insanely, I am already thinking of our next "party." A family potluck soup and salad night with board games. Sounds like a perfect evening to occupy us during what is the longest cold snap our geographical location has experienced since 1977. Now ,where is my planner?

My cupholders runneth over

I have had lots of "my-mini-van-could-be-condemned-because-of-its-filth" sagas including a mouse that lived in it for several weeks, many milk, juice, and tea spills, a multitude of bodily function explosions, filth, trash, etc. I have tried to keep the car clean, honestly. But being in constant use with three kids plus on a near daily basis, it is what it is. I remember Jay having a fit about the state of my car one day and then I took a look at his - four verses one. No contest.

Recently, however, I knew I reached a new level when my son started making apologies to his friends when they came into our car. I also knew it had reached epic proportions when another mom said that Sadie went on and on about how clean their car was when she rode in it. I think my two oldest finally understand why we want a clean car.

So, there was a stink in the car for a couple of weeks. A stinky, musty odoriferous gag-inducing ick. No child could discover the source despite repeated request by me to search every corner and crevice. Finally, after gagging one morning on the way to school, I decided to don gloves and a trash bag and investigate. Into the deep recesses of the car I traveled, to the place I lovingly refer to as "Satan's Lair."

It didn't take long, the discover of which added to my ire. A sports-type cup leaking what I could only surmise was chocolate milk, somewhat solidified, nearly a cottage cheese consistency. The cup had been shoved into the seat pocket in front of the third row of seats. As I started poking around, I noticed a couple more cups shoved the other pocket, along with various snack bags, hair bows, a crayon, several lego pieces, an overdue library book and headphones for the car audio system. Yes, all of them with at least a couple drops of the souring brown liquid. Some had complete saturation.

Upon further discovery I found in the other pocket more treasures and delights similar to above. And then...if it couldn't get any worse, I spied the cupholders. I say that plural because the Honda Odyssey has something like 26 cup holders in it - I am not lying. I happened to see two joining ones and I know I gasped out loud. A left over mushy, fermenting apple from some weeks earlier, possibly a month or so, soaking in some gooey orange syrup from a disintegrating McDonald's cup. It was trying to become one with some chintzy gold necklace and a melted tube of chapstick. I know the hair on my neck started to stand up and possibly some slivers of steam began curling out of my ears.

In my zen-like state, I created a plan and a subsequent consequence for not obeying my plan, otherwise known as "discipline." The new rule: children must consistently keep the van cleaned up. How ingenious of me, right? Everything is to be brought in from the car when we get home. I mean EVERYTHING. No clothing, backpacks, shoes or coats left behind. I know, why do I have shoes and clothing lying around our car? Because the children change into swim gear three times a week leaving school uniforms, socks, etc. strewn about. They are also to keep all trash out of the back and bring in toys/electronics, too. Nirvana, right? The punishment for not doing their job? Vacuuming the entire car and cleaning all cupholders. My cupholders will not longer runneth over!

The first loss

An impromptu trip to a local furniture store took a very funny turn today.

We decided to search for a new sofa for our kitchen area. Six years of little kids spills, puppy chewing, and some unfortunate run-ins with the vacuum had made our current sofa pretty shabby. Jay suggested we go to a local, very large furniture store outlet to scope some possibilities.

We were on the second floor of the outlet center in a gigantic open room with rows and rows of all shapes and colors of upholstery. Jay and I kept moving through the rows, easily eliminating most, if not all the choices. The kids couldn't keep up with us and they stayed back in one of the first rows, messing around as kids would do if faced with hundreds of sofas.

Jay and I were halfway across the room when we heard a shout. We saw Sadie running toward us as fast as she could, her face a mix of excitement and determination. Inwardly, I panicked. All I could think was that Lily must have peed or worse on one of the sofas. The emergency exit plan was forming in my mind when Sadie arrived and said:

"Lily just lost her tooth and here it is!" With that, she thrust this little white tooth about the size of a grain of rice into my face.

I quickly looked across the room to Lily and shouted her name. Lily, still sitting on a sofa, stood up, turned to me and with fist pumping in the air, started jumping up and down. Her little ponytail was just bouncing in the air and her smile was as big as I have ever seen it, despite being one tooth less. She was thrilled.

Sadie continued the tale by stating that she had offered a piece of gum to Lily and when Lily bit into it, the tooth just came out. It was Lily's right bottom tooth.

Lily ran to me and we went to the bathroom to get some paper towels for blood, which was surprisingly little. It was clearly much looser than I had realized. From that moment on, whenever she saw anyone in the store, she announced with every ounce of pride in her, "I lost my tooth!"

My youngest and last child is losing her baby teeth. Another end of a season and the transition into a new one.