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.

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

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. 

Where I start isn't where I end

I am having a hard time putting my thoughts on paper.

It seems there are just too many of them. 

They are all so unique, so important, each thought carries complexities of their own. 

I just can't seem to wrap my finger around what is going on.

To be honest with myself, I find myself lacking in so many ways.  I find myself saying words to my husband, children, family, friends, that I shouldn't have.  I find apologies nearly impossible.  I find tears come all too easy.  I find parenting tiresome.  I feel scared.  I feel inadequate.  I find myself struggling to discern "real" feelings, feelings that are warranted, that are genuine that are practical and cautious from the feelings that are crippling.  Feelings that Satan uses to turn me away from the one I need to turn to. 

I find myself in God's word more than I have ever been. Ever.  And yet, my failures, my sin, my mistakes, my conflicts, my sin nature seems to be quite evident- evident in my relationships, my parenting... you name it!

I find myself continually navigating through new waters.  I am reminded that no matter what, we don't arrive, we don't stop growing, we don't stop changing.  Each new day, brings new challenges.  Each hurdle I cross, there is another- brand spanking new one- waiting on the other side of the one I just crossed.

Take today.  I took Isabell for her second opinion at Shriner's.  We are up to four medical professionals giving their advice and opinions, and now we added a fifth.  Background info first though-

 

Last summer Kenney saw the picture of a darling little girl.  A little girl with the sweetest smile, cute piggy tails and pink hair bows.  This little girl carried a BIG diagnosis- clubbed hands, clubbed feet and MOP/FOP.  Well, we got together a bunch of people, researched, made calls, yadda yadda, and came to the conclusion the big scary diagnosis of MOP/FOP (her body turns to a giant skeleton before the age of 20 and she dies) probably really is not accurate.  While we couldn't be certain, we were confident.  Which left us with a little girl with clubbed hands and clubbed feet.  Well, medical intervention and modern day medicine can "fix" those conditions, so much so that you wouldn't even know the problem was ever there...we read that Kristi Yamaguchi (the Olympic figure skater) and Troy Aikman (NFL) had clubbed feet. 

We started to prepare ourselves.  Read up, research, you know, become informed and educated, because that was so important.  We kinda had a black and white reasoning.  On one hand, her issues were nothing really, simple, fixable, some work, time involved, maybe a couple of years, but then its all better and we can "forget" there ever was a problem.  On the other hand, it was terrible, nothing we could do, no interventions, she'd have to live her short life in a bubble, we'd pray for her, love her, and she'd loose her life early on to her disease.

Today again.  I took Isabell for her second opinion at Shriner's.  I spent hours talking about wheelchairs, mobility devices, braces, splints, OT and PT until she is an adult, surgical options, all kinds of things to consider, choices to make, weighing the odds of different quality of life scenarios, I met another little four year old girl with Arthrogryposis.  Every where we went were kids in braces, wheelchairs, missing limbs, walking with mobility devices.  Today Isabell was another one of those kids. 

I drove home mostly confused.  Not confused about moving forward.  Not confused about what the doctors said.  Not confused because I was sad or scared (however those feelings were there too.)  But confused because I had no idea how I got here. 

I remembered praying for clarity and wisdom.  I remember wise godly people saying they didn't think they could adopt a child with a blank disorder.  I remember weighing our options.  I remember praying, praying, praying.  Looking for open doors, closed doors, cracked windows, you name it.  Yet my heart is and was sinful.  I still put conditions on my unanswered questions.  I still focused on what "I" wanted.  I prepared myself for what "I" thought God wanted for me.  I almost chuckle to think that I even thought to think I knew what all the options were.  I actually thought I had it figured out.  I thought I could prepare myself.  In no way am I knocking preparation, readiness, knowledge, etc, but I am laughing, mocking myself for thinking I could even know all of the possible outcomes.  I was the kid that read all the possible scenarios in the Choose Your Own Adventure Books, and then went back and re-read the story and read it exactly how I thought fitting.  I'd sometimes choose a bit of struggle, excitement, some problems for character building along the way, but in the end it would end up just like I knew I wanted it to.

I just spend so much time too much time weighing all my options, and forgetting that God may have a completely different direction to send me in.  I am continually reminded that no matter how much I research, think practically, pray for wisdom or seek guidance- God's word says:

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the Lord. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:8-9

I am at that place again where I realize I am incapable of managing my family, my children, my spouse, unless it is Christ in me who manages all of this.  All the practical advice in the world will and can not save me or my children.  I am working on five years of practical parenting advice, and while it is practical and important, it does and will not do me any good without the mercy, grace and love of Christ working in me.  My kids don't always (but should) follow the rules.  They don't always eat well, sleep well, handle their problems well... etc... but even if they did... if they did so without having Christ's love in their hearts... it is of no use.  I re-read 1 Corinthians over and over again.

I begin to realize over and over again that without Christ's love, without His mercy, without a faith that saves, without a savior, myself, my children, my husband... we are all doomed....nothing, not rules or behaviors, not walking or talking, nothing is profitable if I don't have Christ's love.

I have felt the failure of my parenting. But, with Christ, I can mimic the gospel.  I want to bring that to my children, because I have been given that gift, while still a sinner, every day.  I want to give that to my children because it has been given to me.  I do not want my children to see me wallowing in my own self-pity, I want them to see the forgiveness and the joy that only Christ can give. 

On a car ride home, confused about mobility devices, God reminds me I need to bring these things to Him with open hands.  He reminds me that the Spirit in me can parent my children.  He reminds me the Spirit is God, and God can do anything. He gives me the courage I find I do not have.  He gives me the grace I can not find anywhere else.  He gives me the encouragement I can't find.  He gives me the unselfish love that nothing can compare too.

Where I think I am going, well, it just may not be where God sends me.  Just a bit like this post-where I thought I would end-I didn't. 

I ended on my need for more of Christ and less of me.  It is where it seems I keep being brought to.

John 3:30  He must increase, but I must decrease

I lost. Part 2 of 2

3:00 AM

I think since Audrey was born I have woke up every single day at three am.  I don't know why.  But strangely I have come to enjoy the time. (Obviously by making the previous statement I have confessed my insanity, and possibly might need to turn in my "normal" card.)

I pour a glass of water and usually stand at the back kitchen window and look outside.  It is always quiet. Everyone is sleeping. I find myself having conversations out loud.  I imagine that Jesus is standing next to me, or sitting in my favorite rocker, or sitting on the ledge of the island counter, dangling his feet and talking with me. (I know, I turned in my "normal" card a long time ago!)

The tune of a Frank Sinatra song is in my head.  "The Way You Look Tonight"  It was our wedding song.  I find myself smiling.

Some day, when I'm awfully low,
When the world is cold,
I will feel a glow just thinking of you
And the way you look tonight.
I remember picking the song and thinking that is exactly what I want.  I want to one day be able to look back and smile when I remember our wedding.

I am looking out my kitchen window smiling.  I start thinking about how much I love Kenney.  Which reminds me of my first love, Jesus. Which brings me back to my crappy day that I lost.

I think about things that one day, I will want to remember, and I will want to remember accurately.  As my dad says, "When we look back on things we tend to have revisionist history." (and that would be another dadism) We paint things a bit differently than they really were.  The only way to prevent that from happening is to write it down.  So, I write this story down to accurately remember.

Why remember?  I feel like one day someone, maybe my kids, my grandkids, someone, somewhere, will have a day like mine, and I will have the unique ability to share empathy.  I don't want to forget. So I write it down.

It was also important for me to write down yesterday exactly like yesterday was.  The day didn't get better, it didn't end good.  Why is that important?  Some days we loose.  Some days, my flesh takes over. Some days that little devil sitting on my shoulder, well, I befriend him.  I listen to his lies. 

I am still looking out the window and it's still dark, and I find myself going through the events of yesterday...with Jesus this time.

I realized no event in and of itself was bad or sinful. Not the person sharing about their life, not the kids spilling drinks, not the dishes in the sink, not the poop on the floor, the tick in the house, the kid running towards the street, even the little girl that says she hates me- NONE of those things were sin or sinful.

Why did those events bother me so much? Why did the day end in such a disaster? Why did I feel defeated? And if I am honest here, I will admit, days like yesterday, events like yesterday happen all the time in our house. I suck at laundry, since we were married and without any kids, I was always a couple days behind. I leave dishes in the sink all. the. time.  My kids spill something every day.  I live in the country in the woods and grass, we have ticks all the time. The annoying people are in my life, and always have been, and I talk to them all the time. The poop thing- for crying out loud, I have a kid that used to play with and eat his poop!

Then the thoughts come into my mind. It's crazy, like a giant hailstorm, thoughts, truth, God's truth hits me.

James 1:2-3 Consider it joy when you encounter trials, or fall into temptation. Be assured and understand that the trial and proving of your faith bring out endurance and patience.
Did I consider it joy?

John 10:4 When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice.  Did I hear His voice? Did I follow Him?

1 Corinthians 10:13 No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear.  But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.  Did I take HIS way out, or did I listen to the whispers on my shoulder? God's word says he provided a way out for me... did I take it?

1 Thessalonians 5:18 In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Did I give thanks?

Habakkuk 3:17-19 Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vine, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights. Did I rejoice? Was I joyful? Regardless of my situation...

Proverbs 19:11 The discretion of a man makes him slow to anger, and his glory is to overlook a transgression. Was I slow to anger? When I didn't hear the words I wanted to hear, did I overlook it?

1 Corinthians 13:4 Love is patient, Love is kind... Was I patient? Was I kind to my kids, my husband?

Psalm 34:13 Keep your tongue from evil and your lips from telling lies. I hate you... have I used those words before?

And I could keep going.  I could keep finding scripture after scripture that I disobeyed.

That is the point.  I needed a day like yesterday.  I needed to be reminded of my sin.  In just three short weeks, my mind started slipping.  I started thinking how "I" was able to handle things.  How "I" was doing so good with my five kids. "I" was pretty good at getting into a routine.  "I" was getting good at managing a schedule.  "I" had it all figured out.  Heck, "I" even got a couple of projects accomplished.

Can you imagine God in heaven? I imagine He would have said "Really Laura?" "YOU think you've got it together???" "YOU think these last couple of weeks that haven't been so bad are because of YOU???" "YOU think you've got it together???"   HA!!!

3:30 AM

I am sitting on the floor. I feel sick. I am so full of sin. I was so quick to forget all of HIS blessings.  I was so quick to give in to Satan. I failed without HIM.  I am a sinner.  As the apostle Paul writes.. Oh wretched man that I am. Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? (Romans 7:24)

Isn't it appropriate it's Good Friday? How fitting... I am a sinner. Christ is a great Savior.  Every sin I have committed, every sin I will commit, with Christ, there is no condemnation.  I claim Jesus as my savior, and the gates of hell will not prevail. Today is a day to be reminded of my great sin. To be reminded I deserve hell.  I deserve a fiery punishment.  I deserve death.  But, my Jesus loves me, even in my sin! The cross proves that.  His grace flows freely.

My awareness of my constant need for Him, is my greatest strength. My inadequacy presents me with a continual choice - deep dependence on HIM, or despair.  The emptiness I felt can be filled with either problems, or HIS presence.

While a day like yesterday presents many problems.  Some practical advice can be rendered- like getting more sleep, finding someone to help with the dishes or laundry, eating healthier, exercise, etc etc, it just isn't the point, and it isn't what I needed most.  I needed my first love. I needed to be brought to my knees.  I needed to be reminded of my sin. 

Praise God, He knows what I need!!  I needed to loose.

I lost. Part 1 of 2

Crabby.

When I woke up this morning that's what I felt. Maybe it was a particularly rough night.  Maybe it was my headache, or maybe bad dreams.

Most days, I wake up crabby. I read my devotions, read some scripture, sometimes if the day is particularly irritating I listen to my favorite hymn CD. I drink my coffee and pray. I make an honest attempt to align my thoughts with HIS thoughts. I pray for guidance, for help, for strength. I pray that the day would belong to God. I remind myself that my life does not belong to me, to my flesh, but it is Christ who lives in me (Galatians 2:20.) I set my goal to worship HIM, make all my steps of the day with Christ. I remind myself all my goals and thoughts and itinerary mean nothing if I haven't spent the day with Christ.

Today, I did what I do every day, but yet, before the day had even begun, I felt defeated. It took me 21 days, but today was the day I felt lost and lonely.

Someone shared with me about their day. How "busy" they were, scheduling kids for practices and schools. Work was busy. They were running around all over, with all sorts of things to do. They shared how much planning and keeping on top of everything was so important. That's what they had to worry about. Me- the words pricked me a bit. My worries were so different. I find myself thinking about the kids we "left behind."  I think about my friend who is a single daddy and doesn't know Christ. I "worry" about the struggling relationships of friends. I ache for the girl who lives for this world because I was there, and it got me no where. I wish I could make my daughter walk.  I wish my son didn't have such behavior problems. My problems, were nothing like theirs, and the words pricked me. Like the cartoons, a little devil sat on my shoulder and whispered "doesn't that irritate you?"

Bella (my dog) for the millionth time rolled in goose poop. I had to stop what I was doing, and give her a bath. Another prick.

I knew I was falling fast, so I called Kenney, to only remember he would be in meetings all day. The little devil on my shoulder again whispered "doesn't it bother you he isn't there when you need him?" Pricked.

Breakfast came as it always does.  Caleb won't chew any fruit. Audrey spills something on Isabell. Someone needs help eating, someone needs a reminder to chew, someone won't stay seated. I heard the whispers again..."it just isn't fair my kids require so much from me."

My headache won't go away, and is close to migraine status.

Someone stops by. I watch Isabell sing and laugh and use full sentences (still in Mandarin of course) that she wants to be picked up. That little devil on my shoulder whispers again "don't you wish she said those words to you and smiled like that ?"

We are all outside. I am holding Isabell and trying to allow her to do something other than just sit and watch all the kids run around and ride their bikes. I am not focused.  My mind is wandering. Tommy starts screaming something about Caleb. I notice he is running towards the street. I yell and he stops to look at me, and laughs.  I have to full blown out sprint to get him out of the street. The whispers "how dare he not listen!" "why doesn't he know better!"

Maybe things will be better after lunch and naps. We come inside and the dishes are still in the sink from last nights dinner, and this mornings breakfast. I feel weary and unaccomplished.

Noah starts screaming about a bug. I realize the bug is a tick. I forget it's tick season and everyone needs to be checked. I go to pull the tick off of Noah and he decides its funny to squirm and kick and act like a baby. The tick is gone, and now I know we have a tick "loose"in the house. I yelled at Noah. I yelled at all the kids.

Audrey spills her apple juice all over herself. We go to find a new pair of pants, and upon opening her drawer I realize there are no clean pants. I realize there are at least 6 loads of laundry waiting for me, and that doesn't count the sheets that desperately need to be changed, and in our book, desperate means full of dog and cat hair, and they stink!  Somehow this is Audrey and Isabell's fault that there is no clean laundry. I made it quite obvious to all the kids I was not happy. I am feeling angry. I am feeling pricked by a million needles at this point.

I remember I have a doctors appointment in the morning and I need to bring both urine and stool samples from Isabell and Caleb with. I get Caleb to poop in some silly contraption that didn't fit right on the toilet to begin with. I notice his pee is now running down the side of the toilet, is all over his legs, and on the floor, all because the contraption didn't fit right. I need to now clean and disinfect the bathroom. Why can't he poop and pee without making a mess?

While sitting on the floor trying to scoop the poop into tiny containers and trying to keep from throwing up, Tommy comes in, which brings every other member of the family too.  A container spills. Anger doesn't describe my reaction in the least. Kids are crying, I am yelling, dogs are barking, the situation is out of control.

We put a movie in and all sit down. I desperately wish Kenney were home to take over.

I sit down next to Isabell and she closes her eyes and does her usual grunting sound to let me know she is unhappy with me sitting next to her. She is grunting that she wants something, and I tell her to use her words, in Chinese, in English, I don't care, just use words. I am frustrated. She talks to everyone except me. It's quiet for awhile as she stares at me in a silent war, letting me know she is not going to talk.

"Wo hen ni."

Those are the words she chose to use.

"I hate you."

I ask her what she said, because I must be mistaken.

"Wo hen ni."

I wasn't mistaken. She's said the words before. Today they cut. They cut deep, they were salt in wounds. They were worse than salt in wounds. The words created a new, fresh, open, bleeding wound. I told her not to use potty words.  I went into the bathroom and cried. 

Kenney came home. Dinner time was a mess. Noah didn't want to eat. The house was still un-done. I still didn't have samples from Isabell. The clock displayed the time.  8:00. The kids were not in pajamas. No teeth brushed. No vitamins. No beds ready. My head was pounding. My eyes were burning from tears. Kenney didn't say the words I wanted him to say. Nothing was good. Nothing was right. The whispers from the day won. The entire day's events came crashing down on me. I was crushed. Defeated. Burnt out. I lost.

I went to bed. The kids were still up. Nothing was done.

I cried. I sobbed. I cried so hard I couldn't breath. I didn't have any words. I clutched my pillow and cursed the day.

Tommy came in the room. He was crying too. I cried even more, knowing it was my crying that brought him in here. He brought me his spare blankie. He laid down next to me and said the words I needed to hear.

"Mommy, I know what will calm you down...I prayed for you."

I held him and told him I was sorry for sinning. I was sorry I didn't act like the mommy God wanted me to be. I was sorry I let my bad day ruin his day. 

"Mommy, it's okay, I don't always listen to God either. But, I forgive you."

Psalm 30:5
For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; Weeping may endure for a night, But joy comes in the morning.

Those were the words that came to mind. I remember Kenney kissing me goodnight.  I fell asleep. Tomorrow is a new day.

this post was written in real time, but posted a couple days later... there is a second part to this story, the important part...so don't worry.  I felt it important to write down what I felt, and what one particular day was like for me.  This is just one side to the whole story though, and it's the other side that makes all the difference.