Embracing Reality

Penny and I danced for 2 1/2 hours straight- not the romantic side to side swaying of eighth graders, not the arms apart kind of slow dancing, not a slow waltz,  not even your typical wedding dancing- but an all out turn the red lights on it's after midnight Saturday in the club kind of dancing. We bounced up and down and spun circles for so long my calves burned and my arms were on fire.

Beyoncé has nothing on Audrey and Isabel's hair flips. The boys all have moves that totally makes me question what goes on in this house especially knowing their home-schooled and we don't have television! I even watched Charlotte move her arms and fingers in a way that made me question her Cerebral palsy diagnosis.

I looked down at the six week old baby with big bright blue eyes staring intently at me..... And while Pharell with his sick beats jammed in the background,  for a moment everything was perfect.

I now interrupt this blog post six weeks late to share the readers digest version of child number seven.

Penelope Ellen Kolanowski was born at home May 7 at 5:15 AM. She decided to grace us with her presence three weeks early and was a little peanut weighing just over 6 pounds.

The day before she was born a wonderful friend of mine stopped by and helped me put a third coat of Tungoil on our newly installed hardwood floors in the living room. She listened to me pour my heart out about how scared I was to have another baby. I had been feeling pretty crappy and told her to keep praying that this little girl waited until her due date of May 25th because we had so very much to try and get done before then. I chatted on and on about how excited I was to go to my favorite garden center tomorrow and get my flowers and veggies. She even brought me a gift knowing how very much I cherished my garden.

All was normal for the evening, but somewhere around midnight that night my water broke. For a good hour I was in denial that this couldn't possibly be happening three weeks early. I remembered how intense my other two births were so I decided to get in a nice warm bath tub and drink a special glass of wine. And there in the middle of the night I cried intensely and poured my heart out to God. And for one hour it was like Jesus sat right there next to me.

I cried because I knew having a baby with these six kids would be impossible. I knew I only had one set of arms but would now have three children that literally daily needed my arms to get dressed to be fed to be bathed to go to the bathroom- and then four more who would need these arms for hugs and wiping cuts and scrapes, for art projects and dinners prepared- six little people already needed me so much and a new little baby was going to need me at all hours all day.  She would need to eat all the time and be held all the time she would cry all the time..... So I told Jesus I couldn't do it.  I told him after my water broke and just moments literally before she was born into this world.  I told him I was an utter failure. And I sobbed uncontrollably. 

After my confession the first thought that popped into my head was how lucky I was to be sipping on such a delicious wine. I thought about what a good God we had that provided just the right soil conditions with just the right amount of water and sunshine with skilled workers and technology that put this wine all the way from Argentina in a bottle and I sit sipping it. A smile slowly cracked my lips. For a moment everything was perfect.

It is now 10:30 at night and the dance party is over. A husband and six children are in bed. The vacuum cleaner is still running and the words of Frankie are quietly playing over the whooshing of the vacuum. 

For six weeks I've held her. I've barely set her down. She's nursed almost every hour sometimes more. Most days I don't get dressed. I am lucky to get my contacts in. Most days someone has had to either help us with dinner or bring us dinner. I have looked up the definition of sleep and I'm convinced that Webster's dictionary lies.

I do not feel pretty. I feel guilty. I feel guilty because I am not giving my other children the attention they need. There's no more 8 o'clock book reading because little Miss Penny from the hours of five till midnight has decided to practice voice training. In the words of a friend she has altitude sickness and does not want to be set down. I've missed therapy for the kids that go for almost the last six weeks. In addition to me having a hard time with this baby, some of the kids are struggling too. Literally I am mommy number five to some of them and Penelope is a threat. They've had to make sacrifices too. I miss the sunshine. I miss being in my garden. I miss the life that I once complained was so hard. Only twice have I been in the car with Penny somewhere. She fusses and cries and is so discontent. 

I received a text today from someone saying they had a friend who was dealing with postpartum depression and asked if I had dealt with that after any of my kids. 

Depression is real. It hurts and it's hard. It makes you want to hide away from the entire world. I have felt lost and lonely. I have felt like I can't possibly go on one more day- even one more hour. I've wished I could close my eyes and when I open them every thing is different. I've asked myself questions like why don't people understand? Why do I feel like I'm the only one? And then after I asked the questions I have dealt with shame and guilt. Guilt over not being a good mommy. Guilt over not being a good wife. Hours after Penny is still crying I have cried feeling like it's my fault. I've cried feeling like my daughter is the only one that's ever dealt with this- I start listing nieces and nephews and friends kids that to my knowledge are perfect and happy and I feel like they all must be throwing it in my face about what a terrible person I am. I feel like everyone hates me because I can't make it to an event or party or Church. I start to feel like everything has strings attached. I feel so beat down that I am on the brink of tears all the time.

Amidst all of these random stories and ramblings there are three things that I'm holding onto.

1. Embracing reality. This is my life right now. There is all kinds of practical wisdom and advice regarding depression - stuff like diet and nutrition,  getting good sleep, exercise, enhancing your gut bacteria, high omega-3's, having help, having a support group, having people to talk to.... The list could go on and on and while all of that is true, important and valid. These things are things I have done and do and I find myself still struggling.

Embracing reality- well.

I need to learn how to handle these hard times sadness and depression and I need to learn to be in this place and to do so well. Which personally I have felt in this culture is counter intuitive. Somehow I have believed the lie that there is no such thing as being sad in a biblical way or being depressed in a biblical way or being in turmoil in a biblical way. Somehow I have believed that the American way and the biblical way is to put a smile on and act happy all the time. And that couldn't be further from the truth. The Psalms in particular are full of emotions and one emotion in particular being depression. Entire books have been written on just Psalm 42 and depression. John Piper has an absolutely wonderful sermon on the subject that I love and have watched and read over and over again. (see below)

Spiritual Depression in the Psalms 

I could share all the ways this has practically helped me, however the point for me to remember is that there is a way to embrace sadness and do so well. That there is a way to embrace pain and to do so well. That there is a way to embrace reality- well.

2. Remembering the little moments.  The dance party and the good wine, those memories I like to reflect on often, and by reflecting on those little snipets of time, that are near perfect, I find I train myself to get in the habit of looking for those little snipets more often. Those two memories are so full of happiness and goodness that they help drown out the struggles. They make the struggles worth it.  Those little moments are really big moments because of how big of a deal they have become to me.

3.  My Identity.  This is the big one.  This is the one for me that I could do all the right things, all the right nutrition, all the right friends, make sure I embrace reality well, and remember the little moments... but... it's the big... but... If I am not secure in where my identity is then nothing else matters.  And, there is only one place that my identity is secure, and that place is in Jesus.

Example:  I find myself getting stressed out to go to the boys baseball game with Penny.  I start thinking of the crying in the car, and how to handle Isabell and Charlotte and Penny.  I find anxiety creeping in with figuring out breastfeeding her.  And then it happens.  I start to think about the things well meaning people will ask me... "Is she sleeping through the night?"  "Can't you put her down yet?"  I start worrying about the looks people might give me as I nurse her in the bleachers.  I start worrying about what people might say about the bags under my eyes, or my lack of makeup and a hairstyle..... 

Why?

Why do these thoughts creep into my mind?  Because I am letting "who I am" be found in things like how nice I look or how happy my baby is... instead of the finished work of Jesus... instead of His perfect life... somehow I get things all mixed up and start thinking it's my life that defines me.  

Galations 2:20 It is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me...

My life and what I do or don't do does not define me.  My identity is in Christ's life, who now lives in me.

It's sorta become my mantra right now.  My identity is in Christ.  I am getting ready to get out of the car and go the boys game, I take a deep breath and repeat to myself- my identity is in Christ.  Someone stops over, and I'm a mess, still in my pajamas, bed head, and no makeup, I stop take a deep breath and repeat to myself- my identity is in Christ.  I walk out and look at the pathetic excuse of a garden I have this year, I take a deep breath and repeat to myself- my identity is in Christ.

Things are hard right now. 

I am learning to embrace it-well. (More on that subject later.)

I am remembering and finding the little moments that are near perfect.

My identity is in Christ. So much so that I share a picture of me. No makeup, bags and circles under my eyes, a baby screaming in my ear, a messy canning project in the background, hair not fixed, pjs still on, but its okay.

My identity is in Christ.

When quiet time comes sitting in the PICU

Some stupid show is on the television, maybe Kathy and Roma? I don't know because I don't have television at home, and I never watch this stuff. The TV is annoying me. A man is asleep in a rocker and snoring. The man is annoying me. The selection of magazines to read suck. The coffee is not strong enough. I forgot one of the books I wanted to read. I am irritated and annoyed, I don't want to talk to the lady next to me. I don't want to be bothered by anyone. All I want is to just be left alone. Go home. Crawl into my bed and sleep a dreamless night, or maybe a couple of dreamless days and nights.


There have been so many thoughts I have wanted to write about, but every time I even thought about putting any of those thoughts on paper, this looming thought jumped out in front. The thought that someone somewhere will see it, think less of me, someone somewhere will confront me with something I wrote down somewhere someplace and I'll be stuck defending myself. This thought that my thoughts on paper might make me un-loveable. I think I have quoted, re-quoted, and probably said this to every living soul I have ever met;

" We can disagree so long as we are not disagreeable."

(I can thank my dad for that quote!)(Love you dad!)

But the truth is, I just assume not say anything, that way no one can disagree with me. Kinda hard to disagree with nothing...and so I just don't feel like writing anything down much anymore. Sometimes I don't feel like being open or vulnerable.

I still don't.

But lack of sleep, no good coffee and four hours into an 8 hour waiting room stay, none of my kids around, no garden to work in, no house to clean, no baseball games, no therapy appointments, well, nothing really to do, and I guess I'll write stuff down.

It just feels like my life, my heart, is so messed up. What a funny thing to say really. Say my heart is messed up. I mean Christians say it all the time... say we are all messed up. I know that is the truth... I know God's word says no one is worthy, and that man's heart is deceitful and beyond cure...but....

But.

That's the crazy thing. I just seem so much more messed up than everyone else. Everything I do, it seems to always have a but. All my "good intentions" all my thoughts, all my ideas, all the things- seemingly "good" things seem to have this "but" attached to them. At the end of the day I find myself thinking about what I have done.  I start running through lists.  Lists about the house, lists about the kids, lists about therapy.  All kinds of lists with all kinds of tasks.  I scan through emails and texts and look at which friends I called or didn't call.  What emails I wrote or didn't write. Lots of days I find myself with not quite enough things crossed off my lists.  I forgot to make the call, I forgot the new exercise, I didn't pack Kenney's lunch, I forgot to take vitamins, the dishwasher didn't get loaded, I didn't read, I didn't get it all done. 

But, here is the crazy thing- on the days where I get everything checked off the list- I still fall short.  When I look at the list and see it all crossed off I still don't feel awesome.  The thought pops in....some friend that I didn't call, some kid I didn't do enough for, maybe I didn't tell my husband I loved him enough... Maybe I did morning devotions, but didn't pray with my husband, I'll even take it further-  I may have crossed off "pack Kenney's lunch" on the list, but truth be told, I did a piss poor job of it.  The man is 210 pounds and I packed carrots, a muffin, an apple and some poor excuse for a salad, AND the entire time I mocked him in my mind "thought why can't he just do this himself, why is he so lazy, why does he get to go to bed, and I have to stay up and sacrifice my time so he can have a lunch, I'll show him, I'll make him want to pack his own lunch after he sees what is in here" the fact remains, that no matter what is on the list, I never ever perfectly complete or satisfy the list.  Not in actions, and surely not in my heart.

A theologian of old said (JC Ryle)  “Even the best things we do have something in them to be pardoned.”

I hung out peeling apples and canning applesauce with a friend.  So we aren't bible study/hangout every weekend/call each other every day kind of friends, but we are non-deodorant wearing/ eating healthy/talking about how awesome Jesus is kind of friends.  We have some common ground that creates some tight bonds.  We talk lots about eating good and canning, and so she asks about canning a lot.  She asks what types of things I can.  I start rattling off some lists.  She asks if I got all my apples done yet, and my response to her is this;

"Still working on it...We pretended we were on HGTV this weekend ha!  Took the fireplace out and the wall down."

Then I proceeded to show pictures of the work we did.

My friends response

"Oh my goodness!! You guys are amazing!!"

I am sitting here days later and slapping myself in the face.  Why do I feel the need to rattle off lists of my accomplishments to her? Why did I segue into a totally irrelevant conversation?  We were talking about apples and I felt the need to talk about remodeling!!! And the sick answer is somewhere in my heart in the places I'd prefer no one to see I want her to like me.  I want her to be my friend.  And even worse, when the words roll off my tongue, I realize what I have done, and I don't know what to do to fix it.  The words "you guys are amazing" - its such a lie.  Its so far from the truth.  I know it.  I know it all to well.

Ask my sister and her hubby, who got caught in the middle of our "HGTV" weekend.  Ask them how "amazing" we were!  I told Kenney while we were debating what wall a fireplace should go on "I don't care about anything you have to say." To which he told me "I should have married a different Nelson." 

For. Real.

Messed up.  I told the man I love I didn't care about any words that came out of his mouth, and he told me he should have married my sister!!!!??????

Messed. Up.

And that brings me full circle back to my original point. I am a mess. I know it, my kids know it, my husband knows it and God knows it, but does everyone else really get it?  My "friends".... how many would still be my friend after being stuck in-between myself and Kenney's argument?  How many would stand by my side if they saw me.  The messed up sinner than I am?

As usual, me writing things down always bring me full circle back to the cross. 

John 19:30
When Jesus had received the sour wine, he said, “It is finished,” and he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

That statement- "it is finished" if ever there were a tattoo I were going to get I think that would be it. (second to "I am redeemed")(don't worry honey, not getting one... yet....)

The implications of that statement, oh, they bring me to tears.  On a Wednesday evening while I'm eating a butterscotch popsicle and drinking a beer and watching the dogs wrestle and three of the kids playin and pots on the stove cooking- while all of this is going on, I can be moved, brought to tears to know everything I am trying to do for myself-the friends I am trying to make or keep, the kids, the image, the husband, all of it- everything I could say I have lived for, am living for and will live for or try to live for is nothing, compared to knowing Christ.  He FINISHED it all.

I WILL NOT live up to the perfect righteousness that God DEMANDS.  I know my heart.  I know the thoughts I think. I know the horrible pathetic attempts at finding value and worth in this life.  I know how sick my heart is. And yet, He who knew no sin, became sin so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God. (2 Corinthians 5:21)

I am perfect, spotless, righteous before God.

Because of God's Grace.  Because He died for me.

I get Jesus' record.  NOT MINE.

And he said

"IT IS FINISHED."

I can stop.  I don't have to tell my friend about all my HGTV projects for her to like me, so I can feel loved.  I don't have to pack a lunch for my husband, or be "parent of the year."

I am loved.

He finished it all.


That's it.  There's nothing more to say.

He finished it all.


 

Now What?

January comes to a cold frozen end, and in enters another cold, snowy frozen month.

2014 is well underway and as usual, life continues to change and progress forward at a frightening speed.

The last three years we've spent doing paperwork, preparing, planning, thinking, traveling, and adding three new kiddos to our family.  I am slowly exhaling, as this year there will be no new kiddos.

It's amazing what running frantically, living life so very close to the edge can do for a person.  It's funny how that level of crazy, becomes normal.  So we have found ourselves this year with a strange "un-normal" feeling.  Now what?

We've spent a month this year, changing diapers, teaching our 6 year old daughter to move her tongue back and forth.  We've made almost 30 dinners and 30 lunches and 30 breakfasts.  I estimate that with three dogs and at least 6 bathroom breaks a day, and not all at the same time, we've taken our dogs out well over 300 times.  Opening and closing the back door 300 times.  We've put on boots and gloves and hats and coats over 300 times.  I've told our cat- who hates being cooped up inside - to get off of our counters surely a million times these last 30 days.  I've cut the food of six children into bit-size pieces- for three meals a day for the last 30 days.  That is 540 plates of food cut into bite size pieces.  We've drilled addition and subtraction flash cards over and over and over.  We've sung the "New Testament Books of the Bible" song so many times the tune is probably permanently ingrained in my head. Played in the snow- which means boots, gloves, snow pants, coats, hats, and scarves times six. Helped brush the kiddos teeth.  Every. Single. Day.  Vacuumed up dog hair.  Every. Single. Day. Therapy, and stretches, and more therapy and more stretches. Every. Single Day. Church on Sunday's, and usually dinner with family.  Packing my hubby's lunch. Paying Bills. And then there is the "other stuff", like weekend trips, baby showers, birthday parties, and friends over for dinner.  Stuff.  Life. Every. Single. Day.

The best way to really describe our lives is utterly mundane.  That really is the best description ever. I re-read the above paragraph.  Nothing jumped out at me.  Nothing screamed exciting.  Nothing made me say "wow" or filled my mind with "ooh's and aah's." 

So when sometime in the middle of January my dad sent me a text with a link to this article by Paul Tripp, all I could do was say Amen!

My life isn't going to end up in history books.  The big important decisions in my life, well they are far and few between. I live in the little moments.  Again, I re-read the paragraph a couple lines up.  It's blatantly obvious. My life is made up of thousands and thousands of mundane, boring, little moments.

So now what?  The question is "Does God rule my little moments?"

Did I joyfully make every meal for this family?  Did I sing "The New Testament Books of the Bible" song  with excitement each time?  What about vacuuming up the dog hair? Getting ready for church on Sunday? What about letting the dogs out?  Brushing my kids teeth?  All the moments that have made up this last month?

Has God used me?  Has he refined me?  Has all the sin that gets trapped in the "normal" places, like an elephant in the room no one talks about, has that sin been exposed? Have I seen God's grace at work in my life?  In my families life?

I can say that "yes" there have been a couple of moments I've smiled, I've laughed, I've made the "right" choice, I've marveled at God's awesome grace.  But, the reality is, there have been many many more than just a couple moments in the last month.  Reality- thousands upon thousands of moments. I need His grace for ALL of these little, mundane moments. 

Transforming Grace.

We read about Emmanuel, God with us, each advent season. Do I realize that He has made me the place where He dwells?  Do I realize that this means He is present and active in all these mundane little moments?

To quote from the article:

"By sovereign grace He places you in daily little moments that are designed to take you beyond your character, wisdom and grace so that you'll seek the help and hope that can only be found in him. In a lifelong process of change, He is undoing you and rebuilding you again- exactly what each one of us needs!"

May I continue to be open to the change that Jesus wants to take place in me, in all the little moments of my daily life.

30 days.

30 days.

That's how long we've shared our time together with our newest little girl.

I'm thinking about the 30 days prior to these last 30 days and the 30 days prior to those last 30 days...I'm thinking about how strange it is that sets upon sets of 30 days can go by, and our lives remain the same.  Then suddenly 30 days can go by and our lives are forever drastically changed.  Even more thought provoking is the fact that as prepared or planned out my weeks and days and months even years may be- I never know the impact 30 days will have on me. 

The thoughts are scattered, the life lessons still aren't totally clear, and some of the reality isn't quite as real as maybe it will be.  Nonetheless there are some things we are chewing on.  Good things, bad things, sin things, flesh things, practical things, God things.

We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ-  2 Corinthians 10:5

This little girl has brought to the surface a problem both Kenney and I have.  We are NOT taking our thoughts captive and forcing them to be obedient to Christ.  We've just let our thoughts be our thoughts.  They come in and maybe we don't act upon them, but, we've given them a home and a place to stay, and even three good meals a day- all regardless of their allegiance.  Thoughts. They seem so innocent, so harmless, we say things like "we're human" "we're sinners" "this is all normal and a part of living in a fallen world" but, do we EVER say things like "hey, somebody lock those thoughts up and don't let them out until they have conformed to what Christ would have me think."

Captive.  What a simple word with such a simple meaning.  To confine or imprison.

What happens when we don't take our thoughts captive?  What happens when our thoughts have free reign?

It was two am in the morning and three in the afternoon in China.  Thoughts are running wild and spilling out of our mouths through the miracle of wireless phone calls. What if she never talks?  What if she never walks?  She is the only little girl that is handicapped out of the 80 other people doing medicals- why do all these other people have it "easier"?  What if we never have alone time again?  I can't do this.  We can't do this.  What have we done.  What about our other kids?  We'll never vacation again.  We can't afford two power chairs and adaptive aids and therapy tools.  What if all of our time is spent with Speech Therapy, and OT and PT and doctor appointments?  Our lives are already so busy and so full, we can't possibly make it any more full and stay afloat.  What about us?  What about our marriage?  What if it's never just "us" again?  What if we are cutting food and wiping mouths and changing diapers until we die?  We had dreams ya know- dreams full of just Kenney and I, just him and I and coffee shops and quaint restaurants, beaches and Zombie Dust (that would be our island beer) dreams of quiet mornings, spontaneous living, and weekend getaways.  What if this is what our lives are like forever...

I'd like to say this was just one conversation.  I'd like to say we talked about it and worked it out.  We didn't.  We've spent HOURS upon HOURS of conversations like this in the last 30 days.

So we tried to fix it all.... tried to make it all get better and go away.  We knew things were broken, and so we tried to fix it. 

1. The Comparison Game
This one is a favorite of ours.  It's seems to be the go to remedy in our fix-it tool box.  And just like basic screwdrivers, there are two go-to favorites -the Phillips head and the flat head.  The Phillips head approach- compare our lives with people who have it seemingly better than us.  So we looked around at the people we knew that didn't have any kids with disabilities.  We looked around at the people that have booming college funds and big houses and separate rooms for their kids.  We looked around at the people going on family vacations - rock climbing, white water rafting, swimming, and hiking.  And we sank even further.  We found our lives to be ugly and not fun.  Suddenly everything was bad.  The house- bad.  The cars- bad.  Our kids-all bad.  Heck- we even looked at our wedding pictures and decided those weren't very good either, especially since someone else had better ones than us.  The pity party comparison /Phillips head screwdriver approach failed us miserably.  Because all it did was make us even more miserable.  Clearly the problem must have been who and what we compared our lives to- so we moved on to the flat head screwdriver approach.  Compare our lives with others who have it worse than us.  So we compared ourselves to the parents who have lost their children in this world.  The pain didn't go away.  Suddenly we were overwhelmed with guilt and how insensitive we must be.  We thought thoughts like "We should be thankful our children are here with us right now."  "We should be thankful that we are not in and out of hospitals, thankful our children can eat and chew and swallow and smile and communicate with us, thankful they are happy, thankful they are not in pain...."  Funny thing is, we were thankful for all those things, but it still felt like our arm was on fire, and while we were thankful our house wasn't on fire, mostly, we were still a bit concerned about the arm that IS on fire.  Problem is, pain is pain, and hurt is hurt, and sin is sin, and being thankful doesn't make sin go away.  ONLY God takes away sin. 

2.  The Convincible Ally
Find someone, in particular someone who doesn't exactly know you well.  Someone who might not want to offend you.  Someone who probably really doesn't care, but key is, you have to be able to act like they know you well and care tons.  A co-worker, or friend in your yoga class, maybe the cleaning lady, or hair-dresser.  So we tell them our story (clearly leaving out any details that might make us seem like the bad guys.)  We use words that make us sound like the hero of the story "We're really thankful she can get the therapy here she needs, but isn't it so sad that she can't walk?" Guess what the natural response is?  Someone gushing over us, telling us how awesome of parents we must be, telling us we deserve so much more, the praise pours over us and we bask in the accomplishment.  Not only did we get someone to side with us and totally agree with our point of view, we became saints in the process.  Then we went home.  Then we talked with each other again.  Kenney doesn't think I'm a saint, as a matter of fact, he has first hand knowledge that I am not.  And, while Kenney was calling me out, he probably used an expletive of some sort... no saint there either.  Spouses have a way of bringing the truth to the surface.  Spouses destroy the self-praise bandwagon. 

3.  Just Go With It
Our last ditch effort- just let the feelings guide us.  Fear and worry- just go with it.  Who cares if we go to bed scared and crying.  Who cares if we wake up cursing the day.  What does it matter if we're happy and friendly.    Praise God for the Holy Spirit!  Praise God for Grace!  One of Tommy's first Sunday School lessons resonated through our heads- Why were we created?  To bring God glory.  These feelings were not bringing God glory.

Lastly (which should have been the first- again- Praise God for his infinite Grace)
We prayed together.  Laying in bed, our eyes were closed and Kenney prayed.  I don't even know the words he used.  I don't remember anything, other than surrender.  Giving it all to God.  No more fixing it.  No more comparison games or going with it, or pity parties- everything was surrendered.  Every thought, every feeling, every worry, all put at the foot of the cross.  Together we surrendered.

and take every thought captive to obey Christ-  2 Corinthians 10:5 

We're moving on.  We're taking those thoughts captive, and surrendering them, handing them over to Christ.  After all, we are powerless to make our thoughts obey Christ, it is only CHRIST himself that can change us, and change our thoughts.  We're changing, we're growing and we're learning new things together. In 30 days, our little Charlotte has changed our lives forever.  Our prayer is that she changes our lives, our marriage, and our parenting to reflect more and more of Christ, and less and less of ourselves.  We pray she brings Him glory.  We pray she helps us, together, through our parenting and our marriage- bring Him glory. 

Practically speaking, this article was AWESOME!  Really gave Kenney and I a much needed perspective.  To summarize:  Don't believe everything you think; The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it? (Jeremiah 17:9) Fill your minds with the right things; I will not set before my eyes anything that is worthless. (Psalm 101:3) Don't stop learning; Wise men store up knowledge . . . (Proverbs 10:14), Those who get wisdom do themselves a favor, and those who love learning will succeed. (Proverbs 19:8), “My people are destroyed from lack of knowledge.” (Hosea 4:6) Feed yourself on God's word.

Hindsight is 20/20.  I can look back on the last couple of weeks and see some of the areas we failed prior to our meltdowns.  We believed our thoughts.  We filled our minds with worthless and useless things, instead of God's word.  We didn't store up the truths we'd already learned.  I could go on and on.... I'll say it again, PRAISE GOD FOR HIS GRACE! 

 

We too, Choose Life

I was barely up, eyes barely open as the sun was not even nearly up-  "She didn't make it through the procedure."

And my mind knew what my heart felt. 

On February 29, 2012, this sweet little girl sat in my lap, while I listened to her sing "Jesus Loves Me" in Chinese.  In a home for orphans in China, while we were picking up our son Fengfeng (Caleb) this little girl sat with no mommy or daddy and with extreme medical conditions. 

From that day forward I have had the privilege of watching a family choose life.  Her life.

Their story is long and complicated.  It is full of twists and turns.  Full of setbacks and problems.  From the beginning, pain and suffering were commonplace in this story.  I watched every plot twist unfold and have had the privilege to first hand witness the orchestrating of God's mighty hand in their lives.  The family chose life.  At all costs.  The financial burdens, the paperwork, the stress, the hours and hours on their knees in prayer, the questions, the hard answers, the extra work, the extra time, the extra everything it required of them to make that decision. They even chose more life. That arm and leg and one quarter of head in the picture- that little boy is part of the story too.  They chose his life as well.

Last night, that little girl, Zoe, had Jesus call her home.  In the midst of a complicated and trying surgical procedure, all the medical intervention couldn't sustain her life here on earth, and Jesus chose to call her home. 

The pain and intense heartache I can't even begin to fathom.  The tears I've cried over this little girl are nothing compared to the mama who chose her life, to the family that fought for her life. 

Many thoughts flood my mind.  Almost every thought brings me to my knees and to tears.  May this little girl's life remind me why we live the way we live.  May her life remind me why we have the children we have.  Why we support the ministries we support.  May her life remind me, human life, is precious and to be celebrated and to be chosen.  Always.  Made in Christ's image each life is, and HE is always to be chosen, always to be celebrated, always to be praised.  Every single sacrifice, every financial burden, every amount of suffering is always worth it.  Life is always to be valued.

Zoe's mama chose life.
Zoe's daddy chose life.
Zoe's family chose life.

They penned these words to remember:  (click here to read the full post)

So how much is a life worth? Ask Jesus. He gave everything. This tiny bit I'm giving right now?!? It pales in comparison. I pray that I'll remember that when this day is done.


I pray for this family- that

"the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:7

 

I pray that it may be true of me, that I choose life.  That this family chooses life.  No matter the cost, no matter the suffering, no matter the ridicule, no matter the culture, no matter the expense, even if it costs our own lives, I pray it to be true.

 

We choose life.

 

 

 

The Day After Christmas

For all of the December the 26th's I can remember, I in some way, have found myself crying. Some years a full out weeping with sobs a snotty nose and smeared mascara, and some years, just a small tear drop that slid down my cheek.

Sometimes, I cried because Christmas was over. Decorations were to come down.  Christmas break was almost over and school would be starting soon. No more Christmas cookies, no more Christmas music, no more holiday parties. Sometimes I cried because of my own sin- ways I "messed up" Christmas. Lies I told, people I hurt, places I shouldn't be, sin I knew I shouldn't be involved in. Sometimes I cried because of broken relationships, loneliness, and an unexplainable sadness that just seemed to take over my heart.

I always knew that Christmas was not about a day, and not about presents, or decorations, or any of the magical things Christmas was promoted to be. I had sat through dozens of Christmas day church services, went to midnight masses, Christmas Eve vigils, lit advent candles, and read Christmas devotions. I knew that Jesus came to save the world from our sins. I knew that He died for me. I knew all of the real reasons for Christmas. I knew about the virgin Mary, the realness and messiness of an infant Jesus coming into this world. I knew about the prophecies Jesus fulfilled. I knew Jesus came to this earth for me, and the rest of the world full of sinners. I knew all of those things. And yet, I cried.


Tonight is December the 26th and I sit on my couch pondering. The fire is smoldering on a bed of ashes that is 3 days old and needs to be cleaned. The lights are twinkling and casting an almost magical glow from our Christmas tree. I can see Tommy's socks in the middle of the living room floor, and I chuckle, because I know he pulled them off before he went to bed-he hates wearing socks to bed. The kitchen is halfway clean. The dishwasher is loaded to as full as it can be and the rest of the dishes sit waiting for their turn in the dishwasher tomorrow. Toys and tags and paper are still strewn about in bits and pieces from yesterdays festivities. Everyone is asleep. I can hear Isabell tossing and turning. I can hear Noah breathing too loud. The dogs are dreaming, because I can hear their nails clicking on the floor as they must be imagining they are running. I feel more tired than I have ever been, and yet I sit here awake. 

So many things to think about. So many things I want to remember, I want to share, I want to write down. Yet, I've not done that for two months. 

My heart is so full. Full of sadness- I wanted to write down, to do something in the month of November to celebrate and promote adoption, after all November is national adoption month and I have three children whom we adopted, and I did nothing.  Full of joy- I wanted to write about friendship. In my entire life I have struggled with friendships and slowly, very, very slowly, I have found and learned so much about what I was missing and where I was wrong. I wanted to remember the friends that have helped us. The dozens of ladies that made meals when we came home from China, that will never understand how much they blessed us. How pivotal their generosity to a person most of them barely knew, taught me so much about the character of Jesus. The friends that sat outside on our back porch and chatted on hot summer nights, listening to crickets chirping under a blanket of northwest Indiana stars. The talks we had about Jesus and silly YouTube videos will forever be a noteworthy memory of mine, the comfort and ease and importance of our conversations taught me more about fellowship than I have ever known. Full of pain- the brokenness of my children. The difficulty and struggles as a mamma I have with parenting... parenting little ones, parenting kids from hard places, parenting handicapped kids, parenting when nothing makes sense, and everything hurts. Full of change- a new niece, new schedules, new projects, new paperwork, new friends.  Full of confusion- going where God leads us, continuing to grow, being challenged in our marriage, in our home, in our family, in our finances, in almost every. single. decision. this year we have been challenged to think deeper, seek God's kingdom first, and that has made things harder, harder, because no longer can we be okay with living in our flesh, no longer can we make decisions solely based on what is "best for us", and that brings about changes, daily changes that require us to every single day die to ourselves and allow Him to increase and force us to decrease. 

We are in the middle. In the middle of joy and pain. So many days I cry to my mother about the children I can't parent, only to find myself hours later building a couch fort and snuggling with the kiddos with a flashlight a good book smiling because they are all so precious and life is so good.

Maybe I am fickle. Maybe I am complicated and random. Maybe a bit unstable. Maybe a bit too mouthy.

But tonight is December the 26th and in the 32 years of December the 26th's I can remember, this is the first time I am not crying. In fact I have found myself with a slight smile on my face. Growth and change is not easy. It's hard and messy. It's painful and full of scabs that get reopened and scars that don't want to go away. But to know Jesus.... but to know Jesus.

I can't say that I didn't know Him, but I can say, I didn't know Him, like I do today. All the times I ran from Him, He loved me, and still died for me. All the times I knowingly chose sin, chose to hurt my loved ones, chose to live for myself, chose to steal, to lie, to sin against His commandments, all those times, He loved me.  His mercy for me is unfathomable. All the times He should have abandoned me, He didn't. All the times I thought He did, He was only growing me, disciplining me, challenging me, using what Satan had planned for death, He used for His glory through me. Each day the innumerable times I know better, and yet I parent out of anger, I parent out of frustration, I parent out of selfishness, He is still there- giving me new mercies every morning, and extending me His grace. Every stupid argument with my family, my husband, my sisters, my parents, my in-laws. He is still there, loving me, loving me, His love never changing. No matter my sin, His love doesn't change. On the days I yelled at my kids more than ever, why did I somehow think He loved me any less than the days I didn't yell? Why did I ever think His arms were not open? 

His love has always been there, always been first, and it's His love that changes me. It's his love that grows me. Knowing my savior loves me like this, is what makes me love. It's what brings joy to my broken heart. His love is what grows me. His love is what makes me want to "sin no more." 

It's this unconditional, unfathomable, indescribable love, that He freely gives me, that on this December the 26th in all of the 32 years of December the 26th's keeps me smiling, and brings joy and peace to my heart.

  To keep this joy in my heart forever.  I write it down to remember. 

The Joy of The Lord is My Strength

Today I read the words:

"the Joy of the Lord is my strength." -Nehemiah 8:10

But...

and I find myself making excuses for lacking Joy in my life.

Everywhere I look I see pain.  I watch four of my five children dance in a circle chanting nursery rhymes while one child sits in my lap watching, and each time Audrey watches the video on my phone all I can think is one child is missing from the circle.... one child who can't dance, or run, and never will.  I clean up cat puke all over bed sheets, and I endlessly vacuum hairball monsters from two big shedding dogs.  I wake up and look in the mirror each morning and see wrinkles and tired eyes, and my dad tells me I drink too much coffee, that it's not good for me.  The kitchen floor is spattered with apple juice and dirty footprints, sticky reminders of the work I've yet to complete.  One child struggles, struggles to just remember his name.  Dogs bark when kids are napping.  Streams of mud run through the yard where we've yet to get seeds planted.  I am tired.  Kenney is tired.  Our cars are old and make noises we know mean their end is near. Job opportunities don't happen.  I make phone call after phone call, just to make things work that should already work.  I hear the stories, the pain in the voices of my friends.  A mommy who doesn't know why their daughter doesn't want to live anymore.  A friend an ocean away who holds another baby in her arms that will never have a chance to have a mommy or daddy.  An email telling me the painful loss of child after child.  A dad who can't find work.  A little girl whose heart may one day soon stop beating.  I see it everywhere, in my house, in my children, in myself, in the world.  The pain, the disability, the loss, the tears, sobbing wailing hurts that don't go away. 

Yet...

"the Joy of the Lord is my strength." -Nehemiah 8:10

And I want to search for joy.  How?  How do I get this Joy? 

I've read and re-read this verse for years, years, almost my entire life.

"for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.  I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.  I can do all this through him who gives me strength. " Philippians 4:12-13

I sit with my oldest in the morning. We review the letters and their sounds, and we write the little "b" and little "d" and each and every day we say their sounds and we say "first the bat and then the ball, and first the doorknob then the door"  and we sound out every letter in every sentence, over and over again, and when we've sounded all the words out we put it together and say the sentence, and we do it over and over again, sound by sound, word by word, sentence by sentence. 

It is no miracle he is reading.  He reviews each and every day the sounds the letters make, the long sounds and short sounds, the consonants and vowels.  We put letter tiles together, we play games, we write the letter and repeat their sounds, we sing songs, over and over again, we say it, do it, repeat it.

Tonight I watch him sit with Grandma on the couch and read her a story.  She kisses his forehead and tells him how proud she is of him, and what a great job he is doing.  He gets up and plays with his new cars, as if it's no big deal, as if reading was so easy, so simple.  But, I have worked with him and watched him, and practiced with him, I know the whole story.


"for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength. " Philippians 4:12-13

and again I read it, this time in the book One Thousand Gifts. 

and this time one word hit me.

Learned.

It clicks, it's such a fault of mine, listening to the orchestra play Chorus 21 in Handel's Messiah.  The violins dancing, together, perfectly creating beautiful music.  I want to sit here forever and listen and have the waves of joy and peace and great meditative words crash over me, like "His burden is easy and His yoke is light"  How can I keep this Joy forever?  I didn't see the hours the orchestra put into practice, the time each member spent at home.  Hours of listening to every note, holding their bow to get just the right sound, each eighth note, sixteenth note, over and over again.  Fingers chapped.  Necks with kinks.  Dreams filled with note after note, sound after sound. The bow to the strings, cradling the instrument to her neck, holding the bow, moving the bow, work, learning, practice, it creates the beautiful music, over and over again.


I see it in the violinist.  I see it in my son.  Learning.  Beauty.  Joy.

I read more pages from her book.  I wonder if I believe this.  I think my actions would say that I do.

"That I believe Satan’s way is more powerful, more practical, more fulfilling in my daily life than Jesus’ way? Why else get angry?
So when I, I Laura choose (and it is a choice, always is... thanks dad!) I do it. I crush my joy with bitterness and I purposefully choose to take the way of the Prince of Darkness.
Cynicism isn’t strength and ranting doesn’t rejuvenate and frustration can never accomplish what Faith can.

Does my life testify to my belief in the power of complaint — or the power of Christ? "

I want to learn.  I desperately want to learn.  I want the JOY of the Lord as my strength. 

I will do something. 

I read more:

"The thing is: The cynics, they can only speak of the dark, of the obvious, and this is not hard. For all it’s supposed sophistication, it’s cynicism that’s simplistic. In a fallen world, how profound is it to see the cracks?"

This is me.  I see my daughter who can not walk, and my son who can't talk, the friends with hurts, and the mess and the dirt and the suffering, and each day I point it out.  I see it.  I drink it in.  I go to sleep with it in my heart.  I see the cracks each and every day.  In this fallen world I stare at the cracks.

I don't want to be that.  I want the JOY of the Lord.

It is coming together, I see more, I get more, I begin to understand.

The sages and prophets, the disciples and revolutionaries, they are the ones up on the ramparts, up on the wall pointing to the dawn of the new Kingdom coming, pointing to the light that breaks through all things broken, pointing to redemption always rising and to the Blazing God who never sleeps.

The brilliant don’t deny the dark but they are the ones who always seek the light in everything.

I want to be THAT kind of girl.  I want to see the light of redemption.  His grace in my life, His grace over the earth.

I will learn.  I commit myself to learn.

I will write it down.  I will look for it.  Look for grace.  I will memorize the sounds. Repeat them over and over again.  Sing the songs over and over again.  I will put my pen to the paper of my little book, my learning to find JOY.  I have spent too much time DOING nothing, and wondering why I haven't learned. I need calloused fingers and kinks in my neck.  I need flash cards and a mentor.  I need to see His grace daily and remember, repeat, memorize, apply.  I want to come to the place, where I like Paul can say "I have learned"

the hum of my furnace fan
Bella's soft puppy dog ears
reading in the sunshine
the comfort of a freezer pizza in the oven
coloring with my kids
the chattering of my first child up
MY farmer's toes cracking down the hall
a dinosaur like blue heron gliding over the pond
my babies buried in leaf piles

His grace poured out on me... daily... each and every moment.... I will learn.

I am writing it down to learn.

Numbers on the page to remind me, teach me.

Scriptures in my memory to remind me, teach me.


I begin my joy journey, with a notebook and flashcards, a good book and THE Good Book.  Friends to help me- spur me on. 

I pray for calloused fingers and a kink in my neck, as I know it will produce the most beautiful symphony in my heart.

"the Joy of the Lord is my strength." -Nehemiah 8:10