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.

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!

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

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.

 

In Heaven

2 Corinthians 12:9
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.

Why write about something that hurts?  Why write about pain, suffering, and heartache?  Because, when I remember those things, I remember HIS work in my life. 

I need to remember the strength and power of Christ.  I too easily forget.  It is not in my accomplishments, it is not in my dreams or goals, not in my "good" behavior, or in my completed tasks - at the end of the day, where Christ's power is, is in my weakness, in my suffering, in the things that hurt.

To share my weaknesses... why?

Because Christ did not die to create isolated worshipping individuals. He died to create Christ-exalting friendships. That is, he died and rose again to create the church. (taken from a sermon found here) We are not alone.  We are to love one another, build one another up, encourage one another, admonish one another in the truth.  Sharing my story, sharing HIS story in me, is all about bringing HIM glory.

April of 2008 Kenney and I decided to adopt from Russia.  Lest anyone think that what I wrote below fueled the decision to adopt, read this again.

About seven weeks later I was pregnant.

In September of 2008, I had a mis-carriage.

From the beginning of the pregnancy I knew something wasn't "normal".  There really was nothing different. I felt fine, looked fine, everything was ordinary.  About 8 weeks into the pregnancy I had some spotting.  I did the "google thing"  and spent an entire night I think, looking up what it could be. Everything seemed to point to this could just be again "normal".  Well, Kenney was so worried, which got me worried and we decided to have things checked out.  Again, everything  seemed fine.  The baby had a heartbeat, which was again "normal".

We went home still feeling uncomfortable.  We both knew something was wrong.  God was preparing our hearts for what he already knew.  I remember reading that almost all miscarriages happen in the first trimester.  We just kept counting the days down, hoping to get past the 12 week mark, and be in the clear.  Twelve weeks came and went, and the feeling still loomed.  We prayed all the time, prayed for the life that was inside me, prayed for a healthy baby, prayed for God to comfort us. We prayed for answers.

Somewhere around the 15-16 week mark it happened.  That morning my sister in law dropped off my niece Corrine as usual.  The day began as usual.  Me and the two kiddos were playing on the deck outside, and I remember looking out to the creek, and thinking the last summer flowers still looked so pretty.  Lunch time happened, nap time happened, and then somewhere after that I had these terrible gut wrenching pains.  No, they were NOT cramps.  Nothing like cramps, nothing to be mistaken for a pulled muscle or girl things. I knew exactly what it was.  It was labor.  It felt just like labor with Tommy.  I called Kenney and asked him to come home early.

He got home and took care of Tommy, somewhere during that time my sister in law picked up Corrine.  I hid in the bathroom and cried.  I can't even explain the feelings that washed over me.  I was in so much pain that I had no actual thoughts,  I just felt heartache.  I just cried.  Labor was nearly impossible.  With Tommy through the pain and contractions there was always joy.  I knew I'd be holding my newborn baby soon.  This time there would be no baby to hold.  Labor is difficult, but the end result makes it worth it.  I felt exhausted, spent, almost numb.  There was no end result I could look forward to.  Kenney would come in and try to comfort me, but Tommy wasn't even two yet, so most of Kenney's time was spent with him.  I remember crying out to God,  I so badly wanted the pain to go away.  I felt like I had come to terms with loosing a baby, but to still have to go through all this pain, it just seemed cruel and unfair.  I wanted everything to be over.  I wanted to go to sleep and wake up and forget everything that had just happened.

Hours passed, and finally Tommy was in bed.  Kenney came in to be with me.  He wanted me to go to the hospital.  There was no way I was leaving the safety of my bathroom. I needed the comfort of quiet.  I needed to be alone with only Kenney.  I wanted my comfy T-shirt and bed to collapse into after this was done.  I wanted the lights dim.  I didn't want a hospital gown or bright fluorescent lights in my face.  I didn't want anyone telling me it would all be okay, or it was for the better, or some other form of non-comforting words.  For once in my life I had no words, and didn't want to hear any.  I just cried.  I never have cried for so long.  Kenney cried with me.  I remember him watching me.  I remember there was nothing he could do.  Every hour or so Kenney would ask if I wanted to go to the hospital and I'd scream violently, no.  At one point I remember telling him he'd have to pick me up and carry me kicking and screaming.  I am not a force to be reckoned with when I am angry I guess, seeing as he didn't take me!

Just as labor progresses with a full term pregnancy, so did mine.  My water broke, I started bleeding.  I remember reading that many women don't even recognize they are having a miscarriage because the baby can look like a large blood clot.  Kenney kept asking if that was "it"?  If it was over yet? And then the pain stopped, stuff poured from my body, and the pain was over.  I knew the baby had been delivered.

I was shaking so hard.  I stood up and there was a baby amidst the pool of blood.  A little, perfectly formed baby. We imagined the baby to be a girl.  She was so tiny, and fit in the palm of my hand, but fully formed.  There were ten fingers and toes.  Finger and toes with fingernails and toenails.  Her skin was nearly translucent and we could see her heart, her bones, her organs, her spinal column.  It was NOT a clot, a mass of stuff, it was a BABY. At that moment my heart broke.  I mourned.  I felt more grief than I had ever experienced.  I felt the loss of our baby, but even more I felt the loss of every child never born.  I saw a real baby.  Things connected for me and became very real.  I was nearly sickened at the thought of how many babies were never born because their mother actually chose to end their life. 

I don't remember how long we just sat in silence.  We just sat quietly, starring.  We had no idea what to do next.  I picked up the baby who fit inside the palm of my hand and carried her outside.  Throwing her away seemed so inappropriate to us. It was chilly outside and I still was shaking so hard. It was dark and quiet. We decided to bury her with the wild flowers near the creek.  I sat outside for along time, shivering in the dark.  I prayed over and over again for wisdom.  We lost our sweet baby, and time still went on.  While I sat crying and feeling like the world had stopped, in reality moment after moment still continued to exist.

Yet, in that moment of pain and sorrow, of feeling so small and lost, I felt most loved.  I thought about all the plans God had for us.  I thought about a little boy a half a world away that wasn't dead, that still needed a mommy and daddy.  I thought about people, people who lost their babies and weren't able to sit on their porch and cry and know their Father in heaven loves them deeply,  The people who don't know Christ, and therefore don't know of His unending love. We went to sleep that night.  And life continued on.

Today, I sit at this computer while five babies sleep under our roof.  I sleep under a different roof, than I did in 2008.  I have nieces and nephews.  I have new friends and new ministries.  I have new challenges and new struggles.  My life has continued on, according to His purpose for my good. (Romans 8:28)  To know, that when I seemingly had so much pain, so little hope, He was there, giving me grace and His power.  His power to wake up again.  His power to rejoice in the suffering. 

Today, it is only four years later, but I think of the impact that one experience, one day in a lifetime of days, has had on me. Today, on my walk with the kiddos, we saw the dried wilted wildflowers of a summer past, and I thought about our little baby in heaven, and I smiled.  I have no idea exactly how this experience will continue to shape me.  I have no idea what His plans are for me, but my Heavenly Father deeply loves me, and He will continue to use each and every moment of my life for my good, to bring Himself glory! AMEN! I am thankful of His power in my weaknesses.

Twilight

I wake up.

I am tired, and no amount of coffee helps.

I've been up, adjusting braces, comforting, trying to help an uncomfortable child.  I've been up, getting juice for another one, praying, staring at the ceiling, staring at the mess around me.

I need to schedule an appointment with the dentist.  But I have appointments with an ENT, a hand specialist, Physical Therapy, Occupational Therapy, the Orthopaedic Specialist, Speech Therapy.... who will watch the kids?  How will Kenney get home in time for all of that?  How can I possibly fit in the dentist?  But, Motrin isn't helping anymore.

And the worry starts to set in. 

I am hungry, but the kitchen hangs in a delicate balance of mess, one more thing out of place, one more thing not cleaned, just might cause pure disaster.  So, I opt for coffee- again.

With worry already in my heart, the thoughts start to spin.

I need to seed the areas in the yard that we had work done
The garden needs picking
I have paperwork to do
Bills to pay
The dust is so thick Tommy really did write his name on it
Bathrooms, disgusting
laundry
I need curriculum for Tommy
things to occupy the others while I work with Tommy
Projects not yet complete in my room
the basement
a shower
kids need baths
the dog needs a bath
what about a date with my husband
what about time to relax
time for friends

Someone stop me.... and I find my devotional and Bible and sit down to read.

The first words of the devotional

"Trust ME in the midst of a messy day."

The tears start to fall.

" Your Peace in MY presence need not be shaken by what is going on around you. Though you live in this temporal world, your innermost being is rooted and grounded in eternity."

"O LORD, you have searched me and you know me.  You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.  You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.  Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD. - Psalm 139:1-4"

The words of a song fill my heart, and I find myself sobbing.

The words:

Like the sky before the dawn

While the night is holding on

Sun and moon together in the gray

So my soul is shared by two

The worst of me and the best of you

Savior and sinner mingled in my veins

And I pray you’ll end this twilight


I’m torn inside my soul tonight

The dawning day and the dying night

 Oh rid my soul of twilight

Good I love, but evil’s done

Good intentions come undone

Good to know I know the one who saves me from myself

Oh Lord paint my heart a solid hue

The shade of you

Oh lord break this dreadful in between inside of me

Oh let it be morning

I know the sun is coming up, oh the sun is coming up, yes the sun is coming up

The kids are stirring, the dogs need to go out, the day needs to get started, and I have become the righteousness of God.

"God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. 2 Corinthians 5:21"

Jesus is mine. My list, my tiredness, my coffee addiction, sometimes- it just doesn't matter.  My sin is gone, and I will stand righteous before my Savior.

The sun IS coming up.