The End of My Rope

Back a long time ago- well, what seems like a long time ago- when it was just me and Tommy for the most of my days, I decided to babysit my niece (who is the same age as Tommy.)  Two babies and a new mama, there are a whole lot of stories and disclamiers that could come out of that year, but, most basically- I did it.  I watched two babies for the better part of the day. Somewhere in my mind I figured I managed a horribly collicy baby and my sweet niece, and therefore I could conquer the world. I remember Kenney and I still had standards. Dishes were never left in the sink. There were never fingerprints on the windows. We woke up early on Saturday mornings to do laundry and wash our bedroom sheets. Every. Saturday. Morning. (Well, being honest, he woke up and pulled the sheets from under me and I am pretty sure I fought that kicking and screaming- seriously.) We kept lists, and had routines, and planned weekend projects. I distinctly remember being proud. It makes me a bit nauseous now, but I remember thinking it. I was happy, yes, but secretly proud. Money wasn't really tight. I lost my baby weight. We had a clean and managed house. We even had a cat and a puppy. Even little colicy Tommy would take a bottle from Daddy now and then, to give me a break. Even on my worst days it felt like things were in control. Even on those bad days when Tommy didn't stop crying and I was exhausted, I remember the dozens and dozens of people that either gave practical advice or the simple quote... "It will get easier, it will get better."  I really did believe life progressed and got "better."

Then Noah came home and I was five months pregnant. We kinda bumbled along those first five months. Audrey was born, and we realized Noah needed some help. Therapy began- Speech Therapy, Occupation Therapy, Developmental Therapy, Physical Therapy, a Behavioral Psychologist, and even a Nutritional Therapist.

The house was full. Somewhere in-between pre and post Noah we moved, we gutted the "new" house out. We traveled to Russia four times. My brother and sister-in law and their new little baby moved in with us. At some point I began babysitting again. Finances changed, our house didn't sell for what we had hoped. The mortgage was high, and the loan we planned on getting to remodel the house in the beginning was used for adoption. Yet, somehow in the midst of all of this we decided to adopt both Isabell and Caleb.  And somehow, we thought special needs, and handicaps and deafness would all be okay too.  So we signed up for more financial "tightness" more people, more stuff, more needs. 

Not even months after we were back with Isabell and Caleb, we planned to go back for Charlotte.  More special needs, Cerebral Palsy to be exact.  We even adopted two more dogs (one who had just delivered puppies) to add to the mix.

There is a whole lot of missing information and pieces in the above paragraphs, but that information isn't the point.

You see, for me loving my little baby boy, colic and all was easy, being a mama wasn't so bad. My little Tommy spent nine months in my womb hearing my voice, listening to my heartbeat. I spoke words of praise, of joy, of delight over him. He was wanted and the two of us grew together. He was born healthy, nearly perfect.  He rolled over and crawled and walked perfectly. He talked perfectly. He ate perfectly. His body did exactly what healthy bodies do. He was loved from the very moment of conception, by both his mommy and his daddy. Sadly, I took the credit for it. I believed it was me. I believed somewhere in my sinful, broken heart that I was what made this little boy giggle and coo and smile at his mama.  As he grew up and began to read and write, and became a mostly well mannered little boy, as he ate all his veggies and asked for more, again, I took the credit, and I believed it was me. I believed I was a good mama.

Today.

I cry more than all the past years in my life almost every day. I am a mess. A real, dirty, needy mess. These children, even more specifically the children brought to us by adoption. They ruin me.

Some of my children can not walk at the age of five years old. When I go to the grocery store, I have to park next to a shopping cart corral that has a cart, because there is no way for me to carry both Charlotte and Isabell and hold Caleb and Audrey's hand, and monitor the safety of Tommy and Noah. So if there is no shopping cart, or spot open near a corral- I have to wait, keep driving around, or just leave. I have to get them out of bed in the morning. Carry them to the table, carry them to the living room, carry them downstairs if we all go downstairs, carry them outside if we all want to go out and play.

Some of my children can not use their hands or arms or bodies to get dressed, to brush their teeth, to feed themselves, to hold a cup and drink, to color, to play with their toys, so I feed them, I dress them, I brush their teeth for them, I hold their cup.

Some of my children can not talk. Cannot. Nothing, no words, nothing.  She's almost six years old and all we do is look into each other's eyes, and some days I have no idea what she needs or is trying to tell me. She can barely manipulate her arms, or hands, let alone fingers and so signing isn't much of an option. She can not call out to me in the night and ask for a drink if she is thirsty. She can not say the words every mother longs to hear.... "I love you."

Some of my children are hearing impaired. He can not hear what I am trying to say, he gets confused, he has a hard time talking, of communicating his needs. So I resort to talking loud, almost yelling. I repeat myself over and over, only to be stared at blankly. 

Some of my children have ADHD, SPD and other brain/behavior disorders. Things are confusing. Learning the alphabet is nearly impossible, even thought at five we sing the song every day over and over. They break down, throw tantrums, screaming lying on the floor, all because I politely asked don't touch. They can't sit still, they can't focus. They can't stop pulling at their sleeves or picking at their cuts and scrapes. They cry because someone touched them one minute and the next could gash their head open and not even notice. Their brains are confused and in a basic sense don't work the way they are supposed too. Trips in public can be a nightmare. We have to have special diets- no gluten, no food coloring, no preservatives, no cured meats, stay away from genetically modified foods, extra Omega 3's, extra liquids, eat every two hours.

Some of my children are hurt. From the moment they were conceived things were not like it was for Tommy. I do not know that the nine months (if it was even that) they spent in the womb, words of love, of affirmation, or joy were spoken over them. I know for a fact, some were thrown away, literally in a garbage bag left to die. I know some were malnourished, some spent the first year of their life on their backs, in a crib staring at a ceiling. I know some of them physically hurt. Their bodies were literally broken. They've undergone numerous surgeries and spent more time in a hospital than Kenney and I, and most all the adults I know. They've had multiple "mommies." They've had people come and go. The bonds that a mother and a child have... they've had and then lost, and then had and then lost, and lost and lost again, while some... have had nothing. 

Everything I thought I had control over- my son's walking and talking, his health and his happiness- I believed a lie.  The lie made me proud, and proud people don't know how much they desperately need Jesus.

I am sure I said it before... said that I needed Jesus. But it was not my life's heartbeat. It wasn't the constant I heard all day. It was just words, empty, meaningless words. I know I liked to believe that Christianity was about being strong for the Lord. I know I believed that things were getting better. Life was getting better. Things were getting easier.  Somehow I believed that Christianity made me stronger, more powerful, bigger, better, more capable.  I am not quite sure exactly where I was headed, but I've heard it said "Jesus' office is at the end of your rope."  I do know I wasn't at the end of my rope. 

But I am now.

This though, is where is gets good.

Remember, dear brothers and sisters, that few of you were wise in the world’s eyes or powerful or wealthy when God called you.  Instead, God chose things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise. And he chose things that are powerless to shame those who are powerful. God chose things despised by the world, things counted as nothing at all, and used them to bring to nothing what the world considers important.  As a result, no one can ever boast in the presence of God. --1 Corinthians 1:26-29

I can not say it any better than this quote:
"The hope of the Christian faith is dependent on God’s display of strength, not ours. God is in the business of destroying our idol of self-sufficiency in order to reveal himself as our sole sufficiency. This is God’s way—he kills in order to make alive; he strips us in order to give us new clothes. He lays us flat on our back so that we’re forced to look up. God’s office of grace is located at the end of our rope. The thing we least want to admit is the one thing that can set us free: the fact that we’re weak. The message of the Gospel will only make sense to those who have run out of options and have come to the relieving realization that they’re not strong. Counter intuitively, our weakness is our greatest strength.- Tullian Tchividjian

I have been brought to my knees- better yet the floor, flat on my face, poor and needy, crying tears of desperation. I know every single moment of every single day, I CANNOT do this. I can't. I'm lost. I'm so very helpless. I need so desperately Jesus.

My need for Jesus- it's my greatest strength.  I didn't think really that I needed Jesus, like I need Jesus now. 

It's a beautiful thing.

Being broken and having Jesus.

I didn't see my own dirty hands before, but now I see them every day. I can hold my daughters broken hands in mine, and I can see the dirt and the mess of my own hands, and I can have joy, because Jesus washed me white as snow. 

I didn't see the mess my life had become before, but now I see it every day.  Dishes piled up, shoes on my counters, unopened mail, a lunch still to be packed, and groceries still to put away. But Jesus, he cleans up messes, and he takes the weight of having to perform to have worth and value, he takes that and squashes it, and loves me in spite of the messes at the end of the day.

November is National Adoption Month and Thanksgiving.

No more an appropriate time to be thankful for adoption. God used adoption in my life to break me. Jesus heals broken people.  I am a healed, redeemed, white as snow daughter of a Heavenly Father.  I have never experienced such a joy as this and I am so very thankful.  I am thankful to be at the end of my rope, because this is where I have Jesus, and there is no better place to be.

The Seasons Change

I've got a cozy blanket wrapped around my shoulders and my beat up zebra print slippers have made their debut this year.  I left the windows open last night and this morning the house is 65 degrees.  The sounds of crickets, beetles, and locust are only a faint sound in the distance, no longer the loud boasting symphony of the past few months.  The dogs don't quite stay out as long in the morning.  Kenney hits his snooze button a little bit more these days. 

It's a fair assessment to say Summer is on it's way out and Fall is here.

Amazingly thought each new season for me is bittersweet. 

The garden, with it's messy rows and warm-sun kissed tomatoes, the beaches and pools and water toys, the local fair, sweet corn straight from our own garden this year, charcoal grills, staying up late- because it's not dark enough to go to bed, margaritas and mojitos, sweat dripping from the brows of my kids after running down the hill pulling their siblings in a wagon behind them. I could go on and on about summer, I love the summer.

The electric bill, the boys stinky clothes, no running the oven (cause there is no exhaust fan and this house gets HOT) the un-predictability of the garden, it seems there is always too little or way, way, way too much
 

(too many days this summer were spent with tables filling my kitchen with work to be done) fruit flies, I really could go on and on about summer, I dis-like the summer.

But Fall, seems to be just the same...
Crisp mornings, apple cider, pumpkin patches, a double tall pumpkin-spice latte, sweatshirts and sweaters, watching the kids create leaf piles, earlier bedtimes, roasts and baked casseroles, the glorious display of leaves changing colors, thanksgiving-oh wonderful brined turkey and all the fixin's-oh how I love thanksgiving! Campfires, no cutting the grass, I could go on and on about fall.   I love the fall.

The kids have school (and I am their teacher-praying for myself right now) leaf clean up, schedules and routines are enforced, lazy days seem over, the smell of campfire smoke the next day on the kids clothes, kitchen cooking is way more clean up than grilling, the days get darker, the garden is over, no more fresh watermelon, blueberries, cantaloupe, juicy peaches, fresh picked greens, sweet tomatoes with a dash of salt, oh the fruits of summer that fall doesn't have.... I could go on and on about fall, I do dis-like the fall.


That's Life. (insert awesome Frank Sinatra song here)

What an (insert the sarcasm) epiphany!  But that's the crazy part for me.  I know life changes, it changes every single day.  I know friends come and go, jobs change, houses change, kids grow up and life moves and creaks and groans and some changes are hard and some are easy some I fight and kick and scream and others I welcome. 
 

I'm standing on the edge of changes.  We have to put one of our dogs down on Monday, I've become a home-schooling mama with six kids, my last sibling is getting married this very weekend, my sister is having her first baby, and I am kicking and screaming and fighting these changes just the same as a monumental three-year old temper tantrum melt down!

Somewhere deep in the recesses of my sinful heart I'm thinking this isn't how I thought it would be.  I would get married, once the kids were back in school, I'd work part time, and things (including all friendships, family and pets) would stay the same... sure I knew life would "change".... but it would change according to what worked best for me.  Bad things that weren't working out, well, of course they could change, but the good stuff- no thanks, no change, they were supposed to stay the same.

I was going to be a "cool" mom (oh just typing that statement makes me roll my eyes and die a little at my pre-mama ignorance) I was going to stay up on fashion, get my nails done not too much, but just enough to make my husband think I was still young and vibrant, I'd run three times a week, early in the morning, and of course with my dogs.  I'd have a cool part time job.  Maybe work at the gym, or volunteer for a great non-profit.  I'd decorate the house (pinterest would be my best friend) Meals would be gourmet and chef quality, I'd bake treats and goodies for the kids.  I'd take the kids fun places and not make them only listen to oldies radio or Christian music.  What a joke- really- WHAT A JOKE!!!!  Stay up on fashion??? If my sisters old college sorority T-shirts count then maybe I'd be good, but until the cover of Vogue shows up with the model in a dress made from an old T-shirt, I am pretty sure that fashion is out.  Nails done???  Trying to plan a time that works to just squeeze that in for my sisters wedding is a nightmare, pretty sure - it ain't happening throughout the year.  Running with the dogs?  If chasing them down the trail or out of the pond to get the rabbit out of their mouth counts, then maybe I'm good...but otherwise....

So I am feeling a bit bitter and angry. I went to a shower on Sunday and saw some of the other ladies.  They had their nails done.  Some had part time jobs, one of them had a baby and even ran a 5K that morning!!  Discontentment sets in really easy at the edge of comparison.

My littlest sister- the one who had all the time in the world- still in college, no real job.  She could come and visit whenever, she could be the "cool" aunt.  I could go do things with her and live my younger free life vicariously though her.  Things were easier when she was single, aunt Mary (for me at least) No really hard topics to talk about, no kids, no job, no marriage.  No additional person to put into the equation of getting together.  I could call her say "hey Mary, what are you doing this weekend, and she could say nothing lets get together" but now she has to say "let me check with my hubby."  Even more complicated now though is this- we are both married- and we are going to "do" our marriages differently, I am sure, and we'll disagree on how to handle things and say things and do things, and we'll each think our way is the right way, before I was married and she wasn't- of course things were different, and it was okay, cause they were!

So I am feeling anxiety and sadness.  I do not know how things are going to work out.  I do not know if we'll ever see eye to eye again.  I do no know if we'll share the same friendship anymore. Fear of the unknown- it's crippling.

My sister is having a baby.  Last summer we got together almost every week, Kenney and I and she and her husband.  We would try the new beer at Three Floyds on a Friday night after the kids were in bed and sit on our deck and chat.  The warm summer air, the frothy beer, the wildlife at night, We'd laugh and talk about funny you-tube videos, we'd talk about real stuff, marriage, money, dying to ourselves, the sermon last Sunday.  We had real and meaningful fellowship, the kind the bible talks about, the kind of friendship, where anything can be put on the table, and where we share it and work through it together.  We laugh and cry and commune together.  She is one of the few people I can leave all my kids with.  She helps me cook and make dinners, she helps with the kids, she can run errands for me, mostly- she has the ability to work around our schedule.  Those late summer nights, and babysitting, and errand running, and help with the kids worked because it was just her and her husband, no crying baby with an early bedtime, no tired mamma up every two hours to nurse a baby.

So I am feeling lonely. Feeling maybe a little bit less loved.  Feeling like things are going to be just a bit harder. (I did this summer's canning season without her- the smell of salsa made her want to puke- I missed her, and her help.) I know babies change things. I know things will be different.  I liked the way it was, and I don't want that to go away.  It worked, the pattern was good, the relationship was fine just the way it was!

From all these thoughts, just putting them on paper, getting them out in the open, exposing them- it makes me breath a little easier this morning.  Mostly though, there are three things I need to learn/remember.

1.  Feelings are normal.  I believe it's been said that the Psalms alone have at least 23 different emotions described in the verses.  We were created to have emotions and feelings.  Pain, Anger, Peace, Grief, Broken-heartedness and Delight- all real emotions, felt by real people. Pretending the emotions don't exist isn't helpful... something alone the lines of honesty is the best policy...

2.  The first thing that I think of, and I think most would think of after reading my words, after seeing my emotions spilled on a page- don't be selfish.  Count your blessings.  Change isn't always bad.  As it seems my life verse- Philippians 2:3 "Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit, but in lowliness of mind, let each esteem others better than himself."  Clearly, if I applied this verse my thinking would/should change.  Really, if my kids acted like I was acting, I'd probably lecture them, so I've been lecturing myself. 

Laura, you have so much.  School will be okay.  You have all you need in Jesus.  He will equip you.  You have friends that homeschool.  You know others who homeschool.  You are working yourself up into a panic.  Get yourself a simple schedule and good routine, and things will be okay.  Start small- baby steps- look at the progress you've made!  Tommy is reading wonderfully and the others are picking up on it too!  As far as your littlest sister Laura, you are being selfish.  You love your husband right?  Wouldn't you want your sister to enjoy the same blessings of being married as you?  Life isn't about you.  She'll get married and things may be different but you'll enjoy new experiences together and share in new blessings.  Your other sister Laura, seriously Laura???  You really are that selfish??  You really think her goal in life is to serve you?  You're really upset because she won't be around as much to cater to you??  Pathetic!! You should be ashamed of yourself!  You are going to have a new niece or nephew!!!  Think of how awesome that will be.  You and your sister can share and talk about mommy-hood together.  You'll have a new joy, and a new dynamic to your relationship that you should cherish!

Number one and number two seem to be the places I've been bouncing around for almost six weeks now.  I'm not moving past it.  The lecturing isn't seeming to "do" anything.  My schedule and routine isn't accomplishing anything, the feelings aren't going away, and I still feel crappy!  I just end up feeling ashamed of myself and my feelings and thoughts, and I make a goal for myself, for the next day, to wake up, do my devotions, try harder, think better thoughts, write more things down in my thankful journal.... but I just seem to be getting more upset. 

3.  Number one and number two are both true.  My lecture to myself is true.  Sometimes I need that.  Sometimes I need the "law."  I need to be brought to my knees, I need to be reminded of my sin, my sinful thoughts, my selfish nature, but, the law was never intended to change me.  That's the job of the gospel.

Only the Spirit of God, Christ himself can change me, my thoughts, my sinful heart.  So I spend some time focusing on some of Christ's attributes. 

His unfailing love.  Psalm 52:8 "I trust in God's unfailing love forever and ever." 
He's always there. Romans 8:39 "Neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." 
He's the same, and doesn't change. Hebrews 13:8 "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday; today; and tomorrow." 

These are all verses I've heard a million times, but have I meditated on them?  Thought about what they really means? 
 
Jesus isn't going to one day find someone HE loves more than me. 
He isn't going to spend less time with me. 
He isn't going to be unavailable because I'm not a priority in HIS life anymore. 
He's not going to be busy. 
He's not going to be too tired. 
He isn't going to be too far away to visit. 
He doesn't have to go home early even thought I want Him to stay because He has other things to do.  Anytime I need something from him, boom- HE'S there- help with school, help with the kids, help with my messy house, help running errands- HE'S there for every single thing I need. 
If I call Him, I won't get a busy signal or his voice mail. 
He'll return my emails immediately. 
If I need a shoulder to cry on, He will always be there. 

And that's what I needed.  It's a good thing that life changes, because it makes Christ's un-changing love that much more awesome.  Sweet is sweeter when you've tasted sour first.  It's okay that things in this world change.  Christ hold's me in the palm of His hand and I can't be plucked from it.  What a glorious feeling.  I was looking for love in the wrong places.  Just like the joy and pain in the changing of the seasons -my life and my relationships will change, maybe for the better, maybe some not.... but it's okay because the friendship I need, the time, the stability, the always available, always on time, never tired friend has me as His own daughter and that will never ever ever change.  It's HIS love, HIS grace that changes me.  It gives me joy and peace.  No goals or lectures, no amount of trying harder is going to give me what I need. 

I need daily to be dazzled, enamored, enthralled, and reminded of Christ's unfailing love.  That's what I need.   Because I need a little soul in my life- Arethra perfectly reminded me today of that:
 


        What a Friend we have in Jesus,
        all our sins and griefs to bear!
        What a privilege to carry
        everything to God in prayer!
        O what peace we often forfeit,
        O what needless pain we bear,
        All because we do not carry
        everything to God in prayer.

       Have we trials and temptations?
       Is there trouble anywhere?
      We should never be discouraged;
      take it to the Lord in prayer.
      Can we find a friend so faithful
      who will all our sorrows share?

 

So I can watch my sister walk down the aisle on Saturday and smile and be happy, because I have everything I need in Christ already.

So I can wake up on Monday morning and do school with the kids and smile and be okay, because I have everything I need in Christ already.

So I can watch the birth of my sisters first baby, and I can watch the dynamic of her family and our relationship change, and be at peace, because I have everything I need in Christ already.

 

Oh What a friend I have in Jesus!

 

 

 

 

Am I a Mother?

It seems most fitting that on Mother's Day I personally define who I am.

I scan the pages of an old journal covered in teddy bears and pink ribbons and bows.  The words on the page are quite sobering.

September 9, 1990 (that makes me 10 years old)
" I know that nobody likes me, I wish that someone had."
"I want to be cool and have a friend."
"I wish I was good at sports like all the other kids."

23 years later and it's amazing how some thoughts still creep into the deep crevices of my heart. 

I've spent some time this week reflecting on Mother's Day and reading about the history of Mother's Day.  Most profoundly are two thoughts:  from a personal, reflective perspective Mother's Day forces us (me) into one of two categories- 1.  I am a good mom, and therefore deserve a gift, respect, a breakfast in bed, cards, flowers, etc, etc.  or 2. I fail as a mother, I can't get my act together, my children are heathens all condemned to hell, my house is a mess, I can't ever keep up with laundry or dishes or dust or anything!

It is in neither of those places I am comfortable.  To say I am a "good" mommy never bodes well with me.  As one of my favorite writers says- "I ain't no hallmark mother."  I know the truth.  I know how many times in today alone I raised my voice.  I know how many times I said the wrong words.  I didn't listen to the tender stories being told by my babies, I didn't rock away tears, I didn't speak of the gospel, I didn't play, I didn't teach, I wasn't a good mommy.

Yet, to name all my failures seems to send me into a downward spiral.  A frenzy of pain, guilt, shame, loathing and despair. 

And yet, I desperately want and desire to be a "good" mommy.  I want to be good at what I do.  I want the world to see me as a good mother.  Yet, I am not.  I can't.  No matter how early I awake.  No matter how hard I try.  No matter what I do.  I. Can't.  I. Fail.

How?  How do I, as a woman who spends nearly every waking hour of my life tending to little children , define myself in any other way than a mother?

And to be honest.  If I got a report card on my mothering abilities.  "F."

Big fat "F."

Oh the world might catch glimpses of me.  They might see me calm, or not raise my voice.  They may see me with all my children peering into a basket of newborn puppies, while we all giggle and laugh and relish the joy of new life.  Some may sit at our dinner table and listen to each of our children pray.  They might think they've been taught well.  They may see me hold a crying child and whisper words of comfort.  They might see a lot of me, but what no one sees is all of me.  The truth.

I told a child today they were a "snotty, crabby. whiney, brat, that no one wants to be around."
I rolled my eyes.
I punished out of anger.
I distanced myself from a child that doesn't want to love me.
I didn't listen.
I didn't kiss their skinned knees.
I thought more about my needs than anyone else's.
I didn't tell each and every one of them I loved them over and over again.
I chose myself over each of them.

If a mommy is who I am.  I fail.

To be even more honest.  I am exhausted.  I find "mommy-ing" exhausting.  The potty-training, the temper-tantrums, the learning disabilities, the handicaps, the anger, the tears, the crying, the late nights, the whining, the whining, the WHINING!!!!!

The performance.  The behavior of my kids at the grocery store I feel directly reflects me.  The behavior of my kids at Sunday school directly reflects on who I am.  If my children have manners.  If my children eat all their vegetables, if my children know their ABC's and their colors and their constant vs. vowels.... the performance of my children seems to directly reflect on me... on my skills as a mommy.

And it's all exhausting.  And on Mother's Day I'll wake up exhausted.

I'll feel like I am drowning.  My natural instinct in the words of another favorite author " it is natural to paddle harder and kick faster when you feel like you are drowning."

And I'll wake up tomorrow and feel like I am drowning.

My expectations.  What I expect a "good" mommy should look like, I won't be able to meet. My performance is clearly not that of a "good" mommy.  Tomorrow morning, just like every other morning, if I look on the performance of me as mother, I will see all that I didn't do, and all the areas I failed.  I will see what I wish I was, and see what I am not.  I will feel the burden to be something that I wish I was.  I will feel the burden because my very identity as a mommy is at stake.  I feel the burden because I am a prisoner of my own demands.

Luke 4: 16-19   When he came to the village of Nazareth, his boyhood home, he went as usual to the synagogue on the Sabbath and stood up to read the Scriptures.  The scroll of Isaiah the prophet was handed to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where this was written:

 “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
    for he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released,
    that the blind will see,
that the oppressed will be set free,
and that the time of the Lord’s favor has come

 

So, how do I celebrate Mother's Day then?

By realizing that Jesus came to set the captive free. (that's me)

Free from my own demands.
Free from the pressure of having to make it on my own.
Free from the burden to get it all right.
Free from the obligation to fix ourselves.
Free from the need to be right.
Free from the need to be rewarded.
Free from the need to be respected.
Free from the need to perform for my worth, identity, or value.

Jesus transferred HIS performance to me when He chose me as His daughter.

Jesus won for me by dying on the cross. 

Because Jesus won for me, I am free to loose.
Because Jesus was strong, I am free to be weak.
Because Jesus was someone, I am free to be no-one.
Because Jesus succeeded for me, I am free to fail.


The gospel liberatingly declares, that in Christ we already ARE a winner, strong, someone, and already successful.


Then who am I?

My identity is not in what I do, but in what Jesus has already done for me.

Before I am a wife, before I am a mother, I am a daughter.  A daughter of the King.

My life will no longer be judged on the performance of me as  mother (or wife, or friend, or sister or "_____")  My life will no longer be about what I do. My life will no longer be about what I do not do.  My life is about what Jesus has already done.

My life, my identity, has nothing to do with what I do, my identity has nothing to do with my past, my future, my strengths my weaknesses, how clean my house is, how good my dinners are, how much I weigh, my family background, my education or my performance as a mother but instead, my identity is firmly anchored in Jesus' accomplishments not mine. 

 

 On this mother's day I am free.  Free from what other's think of me, and free from what I think of myself.

My happiness will not be found in anything other than what Christ has already done for me.

May the JOY of what Christ has already done for each and every one of us be what motivates my heart today.

 

Jesus Came to Serve

The day starts, today for instance- wet beds and fussy kiddos.  Muddy dog paws and literally spilt milk.  Leaky faucets, no time for a shower.  Behavior issues and eating issues.  Running late for doctor appointments.  Crappy doctor appointments.  Screaming and tantruming kids- and the loneliness that comes from no one understanding. Runny noses and scraped knees.  More anger and more fear.  More pain in some of my children that wrecks me and ruins me and leaves me crying.  A husband home late and car repairs. A grocery list I didn't complete.  Dinner that never got made. Winter decorations still on my mantle.  More problems and more issues that run deeper and thicker than I could ever put on paper. 

I begin to feel lost again.  I feel like a failure.  I feel a mess and I want to hide from it all.  I don't know how to redeem the day and the messes.  I find myself longing for the things of this world.  A maid, a new job, kids that don't have handicaps and medical issues, a shower and makeup, and the spiral begins.  I am looking for my identity in places that it shouldn't be and I am upset when I can't find it there.

It's 8:30 at night and the kids need to get to bed.  Kenney and I stare at each other, and I see the brokenness he sees. It's the week of Easter.  Every single night we pray with our children.  We pray they see Jesus as glorious and holy.  We pray they believe and accept Jesus as their savior.  We pray they see themselves in need of a savior and we pray they see Jesus as their everything.  Yet, these littles, they look to us to see that, and when I look in the mirror, do I see Jesus?

So we gather in the middle of the kitchen floor.  In the last moments of the day I confess my sins.  I tell them all I love them.  That I yelled when I shouldn't and  I complained when I had so much to be thankful for. I used words that were not loving and I lived selfishly.  I tell them all I am sorry.  We talk about Jesus forgiving me of my sins, and how much I need, and my children all need a savior. 

I tell them mommy can't be a good mommy without Jesus.  Only Jesus can make me a good mommy, and only Jesus can make them good sons and daughters.  Because there is only one good and perfect man, and His name is Jesus.  I tell them, if we believe, we get Jesus- we get His good and perfect record as our own. We get grace. A couple of the older ones start to think about that. 

We didn't do a passover dinner, as much as in my mind I wished we could have.  (My mom came over and made us some Mexican tortillas) We didn't do Lenten devotions as I wished we would have.  We didn't do Easter crafts and empty tombs to celebrate His death and Resurrection.  We messed up a lot.

But tonight, we stopped everything rolled up each others pant legs and removed our socks and read together:

 

John 13:4-5 So he got up from the table, took off his robe, wrapped a towel around his waist, and poured water into a basin. Then he began to wash the disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel he had around him.

 

 

John 13:12-17 When he had washed their feet and put on his outer garments and resumed his place, he said to them, “Do you understand what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am.  If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet.  For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you. Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them.

Every last one of us washed each other's feet.  It was all I had in me to keep from crying the entire time.  Jesus came to serve.  And He served perfectly, without sin.  Washing each others feet made that so clear and obvious. 

The day has been redeemed.  All my failures, all of my sin, it's washed away.  I believe and claim the One Perfect Servant as my Savior.   The sorrow that seems to consume so much of our days, can still be met with rejoicing!  For in Christ, we have everything.  In Christ we are full of an infinite supply of everything we need.  In that fullness, at the end of the day, we can serve, and wash each others feet. We will go to sleep tonight resting in the knowledge of His grace, and the peace that it brings to our weary hearts.

  2 Corinthians 6: 3...10 In everything we do, we show that we are true ministers of God....as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing everything.

To tell the truth...

Five of them.

That's how many drafts of incomplete stories from just the last 30 days sit unpublished.

At the end of a day like today, what could I possibly write?

A dear friend, a much wiser and mature Christian friend told me (and I paraphrase) "Sometimes, if I told the truth, about what I felt and what I did, people would seriously be calling me, wondering about my faith, and questioning my sanity, and surely questioning my ability to be a wife, a mother, and a spiritual leader."

The truth is, I don't want to tell the truth.  I'm okay with telling some of the story, but honestly, I don't want anyone to know the whole truth.  I want to hide away the hurt, hide away the mistakes, the pain, the words, the drama, the big fat mess that my life really is.

I read a lot, and I think a lot.  I've been thinking about the Psalms.  Thinking about the different Psalms.  The ones about pain and hurt, the ones about happiness, about joy, about redemption and peace.  There are Psalms about anxiety, Psalms about love, discouragement, awe, delight and fear.  What a mix of emotions.  What emotional people we really are.  What an emotional person I really am. 

The truth is, I am a bunch of emotions.  To say today was only all about joy and that I was thankful and full, happy and in awe of the gifts and grace my Father bestows upon me would really be a lie.  Ask some of the people who witnessed the anger and frustration of my day.  And yet, today, the same day I received a letter in the mail from my grandma filled with words of happiness and history and pain and sorrow... an excerpt...

"You are a kind granddaughter, never to be forgotten...  Since my husband is deceased, he can't remember me...I remember the times we talked at night...Memories are great."

 

All of the thoughts that overflow.  And the irony is, my grandma has Alzheimer's and when I read the words, I wonder.... will she always remember me?  30-some years later does she miss her husband?  Is there still pain and loss?  I do remember the fun times shared with my grandma.  Doing puzzles, and eating fish-sticks,  really- great memories. Memories that DO make me happy.  How can it be?  All these feelings in just one card, a couple words on a page....

 

I do not know what the future holds.  I don't know exactly if these thoughts, so conflicting, will always rage war in my mind.  Today they do.

 

I fight battles with and for my children.  I think all parents fight battles for and with their children.  Some battles that I fight, I fight because some of my children have been adopted.  Not all parents who adopt fight these same battles.  Not all parents have children who struggle the same.  But some of my hardest battles are because my children come from a broken past.  I firmly believe the enemy, Satan, would love to claim the lives of my children, and from where he was sitting, my children, sitting in an orphanage, with no parents, little food, little clothing, no one to share with them the love of Jesus, no one to advocate on their behalf, no one.... I believe it had to look good, in Satan's favor.  I can't imagine he's happy they are here.  I can't imagine he's delighted that they hear about Jesus every day.  I can't imagine he's happy they have a mom and dad to forever love them, and forever point them to Jesus in any and every way possible.  I fight battles.  I grow weary. 

 

I fight and win battles with Christ.  We make progress. We fight to claim our children, as OURS, as orphans no more.  We fight to erase what they have been taught.  We fight to make them believe they are OURS.  We make progress, we make so much progress.  God is so gracious, so faithful, so beautiful and loving towards us.  We are in awe daily of how HE grows us, changes us, and changes and uses us and our children.

 

Yet, somehow, amidst all the joy, all the change, all the growth, hurt and defeat creep in.  I am amazed though, at what I have found to "kill" me the most.  It's the everyone else. 

 

There are two (okay three... after typing, I had to add another...oops...seriously...   I now have four.... I have a problem, admittedly I do)  practical conclusions that I have arrived at this evening. 

 

1.  Antarctica is cold. Africa is hot.  But... do the people in Africa have any understanding of being cold like the people (if there were ones) in Antarctica?  Do the people (if there were ones) in Antarctica have any understanding of being hot, like the people in Africa?  The point really is, there is something that I very much lack in understanding regarding the things, I have no experience with.  I do not know what it is like to be a widow.  I do not know what it is like to loose a parent.  I don't know what divorce is like.  I don't know about LOTS of things.  I have been hurt many times, too many times, by the ones I love, because I am in Antarctica, and they are in Africa.  Neither hot nor cold is any better or worse in theory.  Yet, because we have and deal with "issues" related to things some have not experienced, it seems a perfect breeding ground for things like anger, frustration, condemnation, and mostly judgement to pop up.

 

2.  I am just as guilty.  I have compassion so much for the new mom with a new baby that doesn't stop crying.  I want to love on the parents who have just arrived home with their newly adopted child.  I want to help the marriages that fight to be set apart from what the world deems as a "healthy marriage".  I have understanding and grace to extend to almost everyone who has experienced any experience that I have personally experienced.  That's it.  Single moms.... probably not on my radar.  Widows, cancer patients, divorcees.... I don't know about that... so I find myself lacking grace, lacking compassion, and surely saying words that hurt, words that cut, actions that at the end of the day, make those whom I've sinned against feel weary and defeated. 

 

3.  I fail to obey and conform to Christ's character.  I have put the recognition and acceptance of other's in the place of Jesus.  In other words, instead of looking to Christ to fill me, making me feel complete and accepted, I have put something else in His place.  I need the gospel.  Every. Single. Day.  It is only in going back to the gospel, going back to what Christ did for me on the cross, that I can be gripped by the reality of what He did for me and who I am in Him.  (awesome article on the subject, taken from here)

 

4.  I have to believe that God has delivered everything I need in the person and work of Jesus.  I have to believe that God's love is a one way love.  His love for me is unconditional.  In Christ, I have all the love, affection and worth I need, based on the person and work of Jesus. All that I tend to seek and need in less places (the acceptance and love of other, friends, family, etc) I have in Jesus.  In Christ, my deepest needs are met. I have found that when I am most resistant to love others, and serve others it is because I am afraid that I may not be loved or served back.  But, the gospel OBLITERATES that fear.  IN CHRIST MY DEEPEST NEEDS ARE MET.  That sets me free!

 

As the clock nears 1:30 am and my thoughts have gone full circle.  I rest in these thoughts.  Pain will happen, weakness will happen, insults, hardships, persecutions, difficulties.... they are all gonna happen.  People will hurt me, the ones I love will hurt me.  But, His grace - the gospel-  the finished work of Jesus on the cross is sufficient, is enough, is completely, 100% everything I need.  The more I focus on the cross, the more I see that a loving and perfect God, whom while I was still a sinner, died for me and wiped the slate clean, took away my sins, made me white as snow.... Redeemed me and has called me His daughter, the more I focus on that, the more He IS everything I need. 

 

 

Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.  That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.  2 Corinthians 12:7-10

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.