Basketball Season

My son who has autism had his first basketball practice for the season.  He has always loved basketball.  He enjoys playing both the live and video versions.  He has a collection of cards, has memorized the teams, draws their logos, and knows their players.  When he was younger, he talked of being drafted into the NBA and playing with Scotty Pippen.  If it only had to do with heart and passion, he would make it!  For the last several years, he has played for local leagues that have tryouts, but where each boy gets picked and gets equal playing time.  He loves it!  Needless to say, he looks forward to basketball season each year.  I however, become anxious and a little emotional at the first practice and the first game.

Each year he has had wonderful coaches and teammates.  His coaches are men who volunteer their time to run practices and coach one game each week.  Each one of them has treated him with kindness and compassion, but have also pushed him to be better.  His various teammates have also been great.  They cheer him on, encourage him, and make him feel like a member of the team.  So with all of these wonderful experiences, why do I become anxious?  Fear.  Will this be the year that he will encounter someone who is not kind or understanding?  Will the boys accept him?  Will they become frustrated if he doesn't keep up or do well?  Will the coach be encouraging and patient?  Will the other parents be nice to him?  Will he be offered grace and mercy when he falls short or fails?

The truth is, I ask those same questions myself when I encounter new situations and new challenges.  Will I be accepted for me?  Will I be offered grace and mercy?  As I have watched my son over the years, I am encouraged to do what he does at the start of the basketball season.  He offers his heart.  From the beginning, he offers kindness, encouragement, and grace.  In return, they offer him the same.  It's wonderful to watch.   And it's a good reminder to me as I encounter new situations and people;  to offer kindness, grace and mercy instead of my fear.  I'm not always successful, but watching my son and his teammates challenge me to continue trying.

Easy

Following your dream is not easy.  I was recently talking with a friend who is pursuing her dream of full time ministry.  It requires her to go back to school.  She thought the process would be easier.  She thought she would enjoy her classes and would actually want to do her assignments.  She thought that if she followed the plan God set for her life, the journey would be easy.  Instead, the path is sometimes boring and a chore.  I can relate.

I, too, have believed that if I pursued my dream, that thing that God created me to do, it would be easy.  I thought I would enjoy all aspect of writing, that the words would flow easily and beautifully, and that I would wake up each day excited about my pursuit.  (I know some of you are laughing as you read this....It sounded much more realistic when it was only in my head!)  Instead, there are days when I don't want to research or write, the words don't flow, and are they anything but beautiful.  On those days, doubt can set in.  Doubt that this is really what God has called me to do. Doubt that I have the ability to do it.  Doubt that what I do has any meaning.   After all, if this was what I was made to do, it should be easy.  But that is a lie.  No one said, especially God, that life or pursuing a dream would be easy.  It takes work, effort, and perseverance.

So the choice before me and anyone else pursuing a dream is whether to believe the lie and quit, or recognize it for what it is and continue pressing on towards the goal.  I choose to press on....

Veteran's Day

I went to a Veteran's Day program at my kids' school.  Truth be told, I only went because my daughter was singing in the choir.  What I experienced was a very moving tribute to our troops, past and present.

It started with a wonderful prayer led by the student body president, followed by the presenting of the flag and the Pledge of Allegiance.  We then sang the Star Spangled Banner along with the choir and band.  I was already getting misty eyed.  Then the flag for each branch of the military was presented.  Veterans and active members of each branch were invited to stand by their respective flags.  We were then able to applaud them for their service.  It was moving to see each one walk to the front.  They each approached with a mixture of pride for their branch and humility for their service.  It was breathtaking to watch.  It brought me to tears. 

Then the speaker began.  She was a retired marine in her mid fifties.  She spoke of the pride that retired and active military members have for their service.  She said many of them wear hats to show when and where they served.  She also spoke of the struggles they encounter when coming home; injuries,  post traumatic stress disorder, joblessness and the like.  She encouraged us to look for veterans and take 2 seconds to say 5 words:  Thank you for your service.  She said those words could bring healing and encouragement.  By the time she was done speaking, we were all ready to start.

The program ended with the Junior ROTC offering a tribute to all our veterans.  At its end, I was doing everything I could not to go into my ugly, snot bubble cry.  It was beautiful and touching.  (And I am recommending Kleenex for next years program!)  I was overcome with gratitude for everyone who has served our country.  It humbles me to know that men and women are willing to sacrifice so much so that I can have the wonderful freedoms that I do living in this country.  So to all of you who have served, are serving, or are part of a military family:  Thank you for you service!

Comfort

I like to be comfortable.  I like wearing comfortable clothes and comfortable shoes.  I like sitting in comfortable chairs wrapped in comfortable blankets.  I like comfortable situations and comfortable conversations.  I find being uncomfortable...uncomfortable.  The problem is that I'm not called to live a comfortable life.  I'm called to live a life of purpose and meaning which means embracing the uncomfortable.  And though I fully believe and feel passionate about living bravely and outside my comfort zone, I often revert to my comfortable ways.  It's an easy place to be; it feels safe and manageable.  The problem about living there is that I am left unsatisfied and unfulfilled.  Yet the pull to stay comfortable is very strong, both internally and externally.

Internally, I think, "Life is good.  Why rock the boat?"  Life seems manageable, under control.  (Or as under control as it can be in our household!)  There's enough activity and unexpected situations to give the illusion of living outside my comfort zone.  But it's not true.  And so after a while, I'm left feeling restless.

Externally, I am told that we all have and like our comfort zones. I take this as permission to stay in my zone.  After all, we all have one; it's normal.  Besides, I'm told, I should do things that feel good or come naturally to me.  I don't need to do things that would cause discomfort.  While I agree that it's good to use my natural gifts and talents, I think I use them as an excuse to justify staying in my comfort zone.  I talk about facing my fears and getting out of my zone, but too often I decide to stick with my zone and just dream of what it would be like to venture out.  But after a while, I'm left feeling restless and unfulfilled.

So how do I embrace the uncomfortable and make it a daily habit?  A lifestyle?  I so wish there was an easy answer!  But I'm learning that it takes time and practice...lots of practice.  The good thing is that God gives me a lot of opportunities.  Some days are great.  I embrace the uncomfortable and live bravely.  Some days I stay in my zone refusing to be moved.  (I generally don't like those days.)  I find that stepping out can be uncomfortable and I second guess myself, thinking I look foolish. I'm discovering, though, that the bad feelings I'm left with when I stay put are not worth the momentary comfort.  So here I go again.....

Officer M.

It's hard being an outsider.  Imagine yourself as a 14 year old deaf boy being bussed to a neighboring high school.  Not because there isn't a school in your community, but because your own school can't accommodate your needs.  You watch as other kids talk and laugh together knowing you can't participate because you can't hear them and they can't sign for you.  You spend much of your time in a small classroom with adults; isolated and separated from other students. That's the life of a boy who recently arrived at my kids' high school.   He is an outsider.  But then came Officer M.... 

Officer M. is a security officer at the school.  She loves her job because she loves the kids.  She talks with them, jokes with them, hugs them, and makes sure they're making good choices.  She also wears a hearing aid in each ear.  She too, knows what it's like to be an outsider.  And now, she has become the bridge to belonging for this boy.  She walks with him around the school introducing him to students and staff.  She spends time with him, talks with him (she spent time brushing up on her signing), encourages him and laughs with him.  He's beginning to change.  He used to walk with his head down.  Now, he holds his head up so he can see the students who are waving and giving him high fives.  He smiles.  He's beginning to belong.  It's a beautiful thing to see.  And all of this, because someone has taken the time to bridge the gap between outsider and member.

I know what it's like to be an outsider.  It's hard.  It's lonely.  It's uncomfortable.  I've been blessed to have wonderful people be that bridge for me.  I am forever grateful for them.  And Officer M. reminds me to be the bridge for someone else...

Letting it go

Letting it go is hard to do.  My son couldn't find his jacket the other morning.  For most of my kids misplacing an object is frustrating, but not the end of the world.  For this son, it has the potential to ruin a perfectly good day.  He does what many autistic people do, he perseverates on an idea or situation and has trouble letting it go and moving on.  (Notice how I used a big word there?  I helped with science and math homework last night...Using a big word makes me feel better.)  Basically, he becomes obsessive about an idea or situation.  It can become all consuming.  We have worked for years to develop strategies and techniques to help him 'let it go'.   So as I saw the level of his anxiety elevate, I reminded him to do just that.  He took time to sit alone and take deep breaths.  We talked about possible solutions; looking for the jacket, asking his teachers if he left it in class, or getting a new one.  In the end, we talked about not letting a lost jacket ruin his day.  He finally said he was ready to let it go.  I hoped he was, but I knew better.  He has let go of things before only to bring them up again and again.  Sure enough, on the way to school, he started getting anxious about his jacket again. 

That's the funny thing about letting go; just when you think you have, it can come back.  You let go of the past, only to have it rear its ugly head.  You let go of a hurt, but something is said that reminds you of its pain.  You let go of certain habits, only to be ensnared again.  When I tell my son to let it go, it seems so easy, so final.  I wish it were.  Instead, I find that I have to remind myself to let it go...again.  I can start to get frustrated with myself.  Why can't I just let it go and be done with it?  Because I'm human and far from perfect.  So I let it go again, hoping it's for good this time..... 

Quilts

My mom is an avid quilter.  And has she been busy!  When I visited this Summer, I was able to see many of her quilting projects.  Some of them are finished, some have been started, and some are in the planning stages. She made quilts in various fruit shapes for all of the tables at her church's women's retreat. (The theme was fruit of the Spirit.  They were a big hit!)  She made a beautiful 3-D quilted flower pillow for my sister.  And she even made a full sized quilt for me. (I take it with me to my weekly bible study because the room is so cold.  The other women are jealous.) My mom has always enjoyed sewing, but I've never seen her make so many things.  Part of it is because she finally retired, so she has the time.  But the driving force is really her eyes.  You see, my grandmother became blind due to macular degeneration.  It was difficult to watch an avid reader lose her eyesight.  And the type of macular degeneration she had is hereditary.  My mom knows that she, too, could lose her eyesight to this disease.  Her comment to me was that she wanted to quilt and sew as much as she could before her eyes give out.  She knows that her time may be limited to do something she loves and she does not want to miss out.

It made me think... I often put off doing things that I enjoy.  I know in my head that my time on earth is limited and I should live life to the fullest, but too often that knowledge is overridden by my to do list.  I tell myself that I can do what I love tomorrow, but today I must accomplish certain tasks.  Now there are some tasks that are time sensitive and can't wait, I understand that.  The problem comes when I begin to see everything on my list in that way.  The next thing I know, days or weeks have passed since doing what I truly love.  As time goes on, it becomes easier to keep pushing it off until I can't even remember what it was that I wanted to do in the first place.  But what if I lived fully aware of my limited time?  How would I manage my time?  What things would suddenly seem less urgent?  What things would become more urgent?

The possibility of going blind has given my mom clarity.  She spends time doing what she loves.  She cherishes and nurtures it by practicing, taking classes, and spending time with others who share her passion.  In the process she not only makes beautiful things for us to enjoy, but she reminds me to choose wisely.  My time is limited.... 

High School

High school makes me feel stupid.  When I was in high school, I was a fairly good student.  Not valedictorian good like my husband, but I did okay.  In college, I even managed to graduate with honors.  I went on to law school and graduated.  I studied, took the bar exam, and passed.  By all accounts, I would seem like a woman with some intelligence.  That all came to a screeching halt this week as I tried to help my son with Algebra 1.  I found myself looking at a worksheet filled with strange formulas and graphs; none of which seemed familiar to me.  Fortunately, one of my daughters has the same class and teacher so I asked her for help.  She began explaining the formulas and graphs to me.  I nodded as she spoke.  And when she was done, she asked if I understood.  I had to tell her that I honestly didn't because she was speaking some kind of foreign language and I needed her to speak English.  She smiled and kindly explained again, but slower this time.  We managed to get the homework done, but I was left feeling very inadequate!

Somewhere between passing the bar and now, I have lost, what seems to be, valuable information.  I had forgotten how to define range and domain for a graph.  I had forgotten how to write a function in the f(x) format.  I know I learned it before.  After all, I had taken Algebra.  Yes it was many, many years ago, but still, I should have remembered. Right?! 

For some reason, not remembering made me feel inadequate..less than...not up to par.  I could hear the voices in my head saying that I've let my intellectual side go.  That I have filled my head with useless and unnecessary stuff.  That's when I began to think about what qualifies as valuable.  Something is valuable when it is highly important or esteemed.  Well, I can tell you that the definitions of range and domain or how to write a function have not been of high importance to me since I took Algebra.  But my kids and my husband are.  And over the years I have learned valuable things about them and myself.  I've learned a lot about child development. (My undergraduate degree is in child development and family studies. There's a lot they don't teach you!)   I've learned how to negotiate and compromise.  I've learned how to extend grace and receive it when given.  I've learned how to love, even when it's hard.  I remember important events and milestones.  I remember people who have passed through our lives, helping us and loving us.  These are highly important and esteemed.

I have come to terms with the fact that there is a lot I have forgotten.  That's what text books, the Internet, and siblings are for.  But there is so much more that I hold near to my heart and cherish.  And that's what's truly valuable.

Challenge Accepted

My response to fear: Challenge Accepted!  Earlier this year we told our kids that we would be going to a large water park for a vacation.  There was a catch, however.  We would have to leave very early in the morning.  I'm talking leave our house by five in the morning early.  Not an easy task with five teenagers who really like to sleep!   My oldest daughter looked us in the eyes and said, 'challenge accepted.'  Sure enough, they were up, packed, dressed, and waiting in the van by 5 a.m.  They were not about to let anything get in their way.

As a family, we have repeated this phrase many times.  Whenever an obstacle presents itself trying to hinder us from achieving a goal, someone says, 'challenge accepted'.   It's a great reminder to continue pushing toward the goal.  We rally together and get the job done.   So as this new year starts (yes, my years follow the school calendar) and I begin pushing forward again, I am prepared.  When fear says it can't happen, or things will never change, or you will be disappointed, or you're not good enough, or you can do that later, I have my answer.  Challenge Accepted!

Pictures

In last weeks Parade section of the Sunday paper, a woman asked why she generally liked the live version of herself in the mirror, but didn't always like what she saw in a photo.  The writer from Ask Marilyn told her that what is seen in the mirror is a reversed image that you are familiar with.  'A photo, however, shows you what others see.  When you see your face that way, it looks strange to you...'  I can relate.

After having my younger kids, I began gaining weight.  During my pregnancy, I had trouble gaining weight so I was put on a high calorie diet; 6,000 calories to be exact.  I ate all the time; especially the last few days in the hospital before the kids were born.  I would start with two breakfasts.  Yes, two.  Then it was a mid morning snack, followed by two lunches.  By mid afternoon, I was having a snack or two just in time for my two dinners to arrive.  Then about an hour before going to sleep I would have my evening snack.  I even had a snack in the middle of the night.   During that time, I grew tired of the constant eating.  The problem, however, was that the eating became a habit that I continued after the kids were born.  As a result, I gained a lot of weight.  I could see that I was getting bigger, but I had grown familiar with what I saw.  My wake up call came when I saw myself in a picture.  I stared at it for quite some time in utter disbelief.  Had I really allowed myself to get to such an unhealthy point?  Did I really look like that?  Not only had I gained extra pounds, but I had resorted to wearing my husband's extra large shirts!  I was finally seeing what others saw; a woman who had neglected her health and had given up on trying.   That photo was my catalyst for change!  

Which makes wonder what others see as I go about living my life now.  Do they see me differently than I see myself?  When I make a sarcastic comment, do they think I'm funny or  mean?  When I offer to help, do they think I'm doing it out of love or because I want recognition or control?   When I express anger, is it proportional to the circumstances or does it seem out of balance?  When I am teaching, do they see a desire to share knowledge or someone who wants to show superiority?  Do they see a generally positive person or  one who focuses on the negative?   Getting an accurate picture is important.  There have been times when I thought I was being funny, loving, appropriately angry, or generally positive, but I wasn't.  I was negative, angry, prideful, controlling and mean.  Fortunately, I have some friends and family (my kids in particular) who are willing to show me what I really look like.  Sometimes the picture isn't pretty and it makes me uncomfortable, but it's what I need.

Comfort Zone

This past week has been filled with preparations for the new school year.  My four younger children are starting high school.  They have registered, signed up for classes, and purchased shirts with the school's name.  They even attended 'fish camp' for incoming freshmen.  The week left them excited and anxious.  One of my daughters commented that she was nervous about meeting new people and making new friends.  At school, she can be quiet and slow to join in with a group.  I told her that the new year was a good time for her to step out of her comfort zone.   She responded, 'they call it a comfort zone for a reason, mom...It's comfortable!'  We both laughed.

She and I can be very alike.  We like our comfort zone.  It's comfortable.  But I've noticed that I can miss out on wonderful things when I refuse to leave it.  I can also become satisfied with okay, instead of what is better or best.  I become satisfied with what I know, instead of pushing toward something new that would be better.   So my daughter and I have agreed to help each other step out of our comfort zones.  We are going to encourage each other to be bold and courageous.  We are not going to settle for okay....we are going for the best.

Band Aids

How often do we try to use a band aid when something more is needed?  One evening my husband was cutting vegetables for dinner and cut his finger.  At first, he applied pressure to stop the bleeding.  It didn't help.  So he elevated his hand and wrapped a towel tightly around his finger.  The bleeding slowed so we tried to bandage it.  But the band aid was not enough.  As soon as he moved his finger, the wound would open up and start to bleed again.  He needed more.  So off we went to the minor emergency room where he received several stitches. 

Sometimes a band aid is just not enough for the wound presented.  Yet, I think we often try to put band aids on the emotional and spiritual wounds of people around us.  I call them the 'Jesus loves you band aids'.  They are the bible verses and Christian sayings that we tell people in order to make them feel better about difficult circumstances.  Think about it...  A man shares that his spouse has left him and he is devastated.  He is told to remember that Jesus loves him.  A couple shares that a child has died.  They are told, it's God's will.  A woman shares that she is overwhelmed by mothering small children.  She is told that God does not give her anymore than she can handle...  Jesus loves you band aids...  We hand them out to people hoping to cover their gaping wounds.  We do it  because we don't know what else to do or say.  Or because that's what's been handed to us.   But they are not enough.  More is needed.

So what is that more?  I wish I knew.  I think it's different for each person and set of circumstances.  I know for myself,  I just want someone to listen.  I don't want verses or sayings.  I don't want advice or steps to follow.  I don't want judgement or for my circumstances to be minimized.  I want someone to tenderly listen as I share what's on my heart.  And I want to experience love and compassion in response.   It seems easy enough.  So why do we hand out band aids instead?  Maybe because when we listen and enter into another person's pain, it gets messy.  It's not clear cut.  There's no quick and easy answer.  Most of us don't like messy.  We like clear cut.  We like quick and easy.  But I think God calls us to get messy.   He knows that band aids aren't enough; we need more....

Listening

This week as I was waiting for my son to finish his guitar lesson, I learned the importance of listening.  A woman came into the shop, talked to the owner, and sat down next to me.  She was taking some time to 'catch her breath and cool off'.  Summers are hot and humid here and on this particular day, it was like a steaming sauna outside.  At first, I just smiled at her, agreed that it was indeed hot outside, and went back to my kindle.  She asked if it was always this hot here.   Her question made me wonder if she was new to the area.  I know that can be difficult, so I put down my kindle.   I told her that summers are indeed hot and then asked if she had just recently moved here.  She said that she had been here almost two years.  That's when I knew.....She didn't really want to talk about the weather, she just needed someone to listen to her story.

I asked her questions like where was she from and what brought her here.  She spent the next fifteen minutes or so telling me about her family.   She lives in a home with her father, brother, and sister-in-law.  Her father is battling cancer and the effects of old age.  Her brother is also battling cancer and is running out of treatment options.  She told me how difficult it was to, daily, watch two people you love die from this terrible disease.  My heart broke for her.  I asked a few more questions, but mainly listened as she shared what was on her heart.  When she was done, she popped up out of her chair and said she needed to be on her way.  She turned to me and jokingly asked how much she owed me.  She said that having someone listen to her was the best therapy she had had in a long time.  We both laughed.  She thanked me for listening.  I thanked her for sharing.

After she left, I thought about the importance of listening.  Listening tells the other person that they have worth and value.  It tells them that what they think and feel and say matter.  Listening is really an act of love and a way to honor another person.  So the next time you are in a waiting room or standing in line, put down your electronic device of choice and listen....

The Olympics

As a family, we have gotten into the Olympics this year.  It has been fun to watch the events together.  What is even more fun is watching how we all help out the athletes from our chairs.  We move side to side, back and forth, and make funny faces as we some how send the athletes just what they need to achieve their goals.  We cheer when they win.  We sigh and tell them it's okay when they lose.  Some of us have even shed tears with the athletes when there is great disappointment.  It can be emotionally exhausting.  And I love it! 

It comes as no surprise that along with watching the events, I love to hear the stories.  The stories of what it took to get to London.  The stories of hard work and sacrifice for the athletes and their families.  There are even commercials that speak to the dedication of the athletes.  One of them is from the athletes' perspectives.  They say things about not ordering dessert for two years, not watching TV, or reading the book everyone is talking about.  They were too busy training.  They were focused on the goal.  They were making choices that got them to their dreams. 

It's a good reminder.  Dreams are not realized simply by dreaming them or hoping for them.  Dreams involve action.  And often times, those actions must be repeated frequently over a long period of time.  Sometimes it seems too difficult or not worth the sacrifice.  But as I watch the faces of those athletes (and their parents), I'm convinced it is well worth the effort!

Legacy

Leaving a legacy....  Most of us want to live a life of purpose and meaning.  We want to leave a meaningful legacy to the next generation.  I often think about what I want to leave to my children: a faith lived out with passion, pearls of wisdom, memories of dinners hardly eaten because we were laughing so hard, compassion, well worn bibles with lots of notes, a willingness to try new things, a sense of adventure.  It seems, at first, that in order to leave a meaningful legacy, you need a long life.  Yet, I know that's not true.  My sister taught me about trusting God and the sactity of life...in just nine days.

In the month before my sixteenth birthday, my mom gave birth to my first sibling, my sister.  We had anticipated her arrival for months.  She was the first grandchild for my step-dad's family and was the sibling I had been asking for for years.   When my mom went into labor, we loaded up to go to the hospital filled with joy and an eagerness to finally meet her face to face.  Soon after we arrived, I knew something was terribly wrong.  My mom had an emergency C-section and our fears were realized.  My sister had aspirated meconium and her lungs were badly damaged.  She died nine days later.  We were devastated. 

Yet, I am reminded of her life every time I think about my kids.   When we first learned I was pregnant with quadruplets, the doctors immediately (I was still on the ultrasound bed) started telling me to reduce the number of babies.  They said that I would never be able to carry all four of them and that if I didn't reduce the number, I would lose them all.  I thought about my sister.  All the times I got to hear her heartbeat during the pregnancy.  The joy of preparing for her arrival.  The thrill of seeing her face and who she resembled.  The mixture of awe and sorrow as we held her for the first and last time.  Remembering her, I knew I could not make the decision as to which of my children would live and which would be terminated.  So my husband and I decided to trust God.  There were several times during my pregnancy and the weeks after their birth that we thought one or more of them might not make it.  Yet, I remembered how God walked with me after my sister's death and He was with me still. 

I learned a lot in the nine days my sister was alive.   Life is precious, but not guaranteed.  God can be trusted.  He may not spare me from pain, but He is faithful to walk with me through the pain. So now as I look at my children, I see the wonderful legacy my sister left.  And it makes me smile!

Known

I long to be known....   My husband and I began attending our 'old' church soon after we moved into our first house.  We worshipped there for about fifteen years.  Then we moved.  Then we moved again.  And now that we are only 90 miles away instead of states away, we enjoy attending from time to time.  It's like going home.  This Sunday we went.  I was enjoying worship and all was going well until we went up for communion.  That's when it happened......he said my name.  The man distributing the wine, who I have known for years, said my name.  I could barely hold it together until I got to the pew.  That's when I began to cry.

Since moving to our current location two years ago, I have not found my place.  I have met some wonderful women who are kind and loving.  Women with whom I have done bible study and gone to lunch.  Yet, I have not met anyone that I see on a regular basis who really knows me.  Part of that is due to having a full life with teenagers.  Part of it is that I grew up as an only child (my siblings are 17 and 20 years younger than me) so I am used to doing things by myself.  Part of it is that I just don't feel like I belong.  I still feel like an outsider so I don't fully engage.  Maybe I do that because I know we won't be here all that long so I don't want to get too close.  I'm not sure.  But I do know that I long to find my place and be known.  And I haven't yet.

So that is why I cried at church.  My old church is a place where I am known and loved.  It is where people know my story and I know theirs.  It is where we prayed together, encouraged each other, pushed each other, and did life together.  We celebrated and mourned together.  It is there that I was allowed to try new things knowing that if I failed, it would be okay.  I am known there.  My husband is known.  My children are known.  And we are loved.  I miss being known.....


    

Heart Connections

This past weekend I experienced heart connections. I spoke at a woman's retreat in Phoenix, Arizona. A retreat organized by women who had never gone to one before, but brave enough to plan one. It was wonderful! I came home with a heart full of love for a group of women who showed me how we come alive when when we connect beyond the surface. Many of these women came hungry for time with their sisters in Christ where they could laugh and share their stories. We laughed and squealed as we heard stories of adventure and joy. We also shed tears as we shared stories of loss, discouragement, and loneliness. We all walked away knowing each other more intimately than before. We made heart connections. The result of which brought about great compassion and a call to action for these women. You see, part of the retreat's purpose was to explore the needs of the women in order to create new ministry opportunities. As the information gathering began, instead of women voicing what they wanted, they began sharing what they could offer to each other! Women heard the needs of other women through their stories and began thinking of ways to meet those needs. It was beautiful to watch. Women caring for each other; wanting to share the burdens of life. This is how it was meant to be! We are to make heart connections and care for one another. We are meant to walk this road together, loving and encouraging each other. Beautiful! I can't wait to see what God has planned!

Dinner

What is the cure for post vacation blues?  Family dinners at my house. It's my favorite time of day.  I don't necessarily enjoy making dinner, but I love our time together at the table.  It is our time to connect and tell each other about our day.  Most of the time is spent telling stories and laughing.  Tonight was particularly funny.  I was sure that noodles would come flying out of noses and mouths.  Thankfully, they did not make an appearance.  But the laughter gave health to my spirit.

As you know, my daughter and I went to New York City.  It was wonderful.  We had a great time together.  We walked all over the city and saw a lot of wonderful things.  We spent a lot of time watching people.  (An activity we both enjoy.)  And we talked about life...things happening now and our hopes and dreams for the future.  We did not want it to end.  But home was calling us back. 

The transition from vacation to normal life can be difficult, though.  It is good to be reunited with family, but the chores of life are not as exciting as Time Square in the evenings.  Add to that the dreary weather we have had, and you get post vacation blues.  Which is why dinner was so wonderful tonight.   I was reminded that my life may not be filled with bright lights and endless entertainment, but it is definitely full of laughter and a great deal of love.  I'm glad to be home.

Moving

Moving is hard.  I was reminded of the 'special' stress involved with moving recently.  We have some good friends who are moving in a few weeks.  There have been some stressful days filled with a sick pet, carpet cleaners, new garage door installation, packing and storing items, stagers, and the like.  All of this while maintaining a job, hunting for a new house, and keeping kids entertained while on summer break.  Oh, and then there is the mental and emotional stress of good bye parties and last get- togethers.  Despite the stressful circumstances, they are doing well.  They are trying to maintain a sense of humor and are relying heavily on God.

As my friend goes through this process, I can't help but think about my moving experiences.  My kids and I had many adventures getting the house ready for a showing and then trying to find something to do for a couple of hours with our eighty pound dog.  Sometimes we would go to a park, but there were many times when we would get in our van and drive around.  It was during one of those times that I had to pull off the road because my kids had me laughing so hard about our situation.  That is when I began saying, "this is what my life has become....driving around with a dog who hates cars, hoping that someone will buy the house we don't want to leave."  We couldn't help but laugh.  We still laugh about it. 

It has been almost two years since our last move.  I still can remember the stress, the tears, the heart ache, the grief.  But mostly, I remember God's goodness and faithfulness.  I have seen how our moves have stretched each of us and how God has used that to mold us into the people He wants us to become.  So as my friend prepares to leave, I am sad that we won't see each other as often, but I am also excited to see what God has planned for her and her family.  Let the adventure begin!

16th Birthday

Today is my oldest daughter's 16th birthday.  She made her appearance three weeks early.  My husband and I were supposed to be at a Fourth of July party.  Instead, we were at the hospital.  I remember thinking, 'I'm not ready'.  I have since learned that you are never really ready to be a parent.  It is challenging.  But, oh so worth it. 

To celebrate, she and I are going to New York City.  It is a trip that she proposed.  (She created a power point presentation for my husband and I.)  She has planned the itinerary and mapped out our days.  She has helped to finance part of it through babysitting, pet sitting, and chores.  Needless to say, I am very proud of her.  She had a dream.  She told us about her dream.  And she began planning for her dream.  She had to face dream killers.  She faced fear and doubt.  Yet, she continued pursuing her dream.  Now, we are going to her dream destination to see her dream Broadway production.  I am in awe of her determination and hard work.  When I look at her, I can't help but think of the incredible work God has done, both in my life as a mom and hers as she grows up.  He is so good.

So as we watch the fireworks live in New York City, I will be overflowing with joy because I have been given the honor and privilege of having such a precious daughter.  She is truly a gift.

Assumptions

My son loves watching American Ninja Warrior.  It is a show where athletes compete to finish a very difficult obstacle course testing their strength, agility, balance, and stamina.   He has watched every episode several times.  He can tell you all about the competitors.  He can tell you the times of those in the lead.  And he is eagerly awaiting the finals to see who will win.  I have to admit that I, too, have become a fan as I watch with him.  I am in awe of these athletes.  I know that the things they are doing are difficult, yet many of them seem to do the tasks with such ease.  Watching them makes me think I can do what they do. 

Intermixed in the competition, the athletes are interviewed.  I enjoy learning about each athlete and the training they endured in order to compete.  All of them have trained for many months.  Some of them have faced physical injuries and surgeries that threatened to end their chances.  Some of them have created parts of the obstacle course in or around their homes in order to train whenever they had free time.  All of them have made some sacrifices.  All of them have had times when they had to push through the pain to continue.  I am so glad for the back stories.  Not only because they are interesting, but they are essential.  You see, without them, it would be easy to watch these athletes and think that they are just naturally gifted and that no real effort was needed for them to succeed.  But that's not true.  

I wish we could get the back stories of people who are doing what we dream of doing.  Without them, we begin to make assumptions.  We assume they are natually gifted or that the task is easy for them.  We assume they have resources or a support system that is unavailable to us.  We assume they didn't really have to make sacrifices or push through rough times.  All our assuming can feed our excuses and make it easy to give up on our dreams.  But the back stories tell us the truth.  It takes work and sacrifice to fulfill our dreams.  It takes dedication and focus.  It takes strength and perseverance when we want to give up.  Pursuing a dream is hard work physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.  But as I watch the athletes complete the course and raise their hands in victory, I am reminded that the effort is worth the reward!  Press on!

Ordinary

I am not super woman.  I am an ordinary woman who just happened to have five children in a very short period of time.  This feat was made possible by having four babies at once. (My husband and I believe in efficiency...)  I am amazed at the reactions I get when people find out about our family.  I hear things like, 'you must be a saint' or 'God knew who to give them to' or 'you must be mother of the year'.   It makes me smile and think, if only you realy knew me.  God did not choose me to have these children because I possess some great mothering gene.  He did not choose me because I had such great patience or capacity to love.  He chose me because He is God and He gets to decide such things.  His choosing had nothing to do with me, but everything to do with Him.

So often when God calls us to something we look at who we are; our gifts, our talents, our abilities, our life situations, our temperment.  Based on what we see, we determine whether or not we should pursue our calling. We look to see if we are up to the task.  We are looking at it from the wrong side.  It is not about who we are, but who God is.  None of us are fully prepared for what life throws our way.  But God knows us intimately and wants to show Himself through each of us if we will let Him; if we will trust Him.

I did not know how I was going to handle five kids.  I was not prepared, but God was.  He provided over one hundred people who helped us the first year.  He brought other moms in my life to teach me, encourage me, and support me.  He gave me Himself in such wonderful ways that brought peace, wisdom, and strength.  He will do the same for you.  He is an equal opportunity God.  He loves to take ordinary women and have them do extraordinary things. 

Ruts

Ruts can be frustrating.  I have a friend who experienced a rut in Africa.  She and several others had gone there for a mission trip.  Apparently, their vehicle got stuck in a mud rut.  The rut made it impossible to get back on the road.  It was taking them where they did not want to go.  She said that the driver then had to back up to where they were on solid ground; they had to return to the last time they were on the right path.  From there, they could follow the road and avoid the rut.  By doing this they were able to make it to their destination.

I have found myself in a relational rut lately.  Somewhere, I began to vear off the path. It was minor at first, but now, I find myself in a place I do not want to be.  There is distance and distrust.  There is hurt and anger.  This is not how it was supposed to be.  I find myself hiding my heart when I should be sharing it.  I find myself silent when I should be sharing my thoughts.  I find myself guarded when I should be transparent.  I do not like where this path is taking me, but I can't seem to turn around.  I need to back up to where I was on solid ground.  I need to back up to the path before I got caught in the rut.  And where was that?  Before I let the root of bitterness take hold.  Just to type that sentence makes me sad and sick.  I know the verses that talk of not letting the root of bitterness take hold.  The verses that talk of forgiveness, and not sinning in your anger.  Yet I did not do what I was told to do.  I held on to hurt, then anger, then bitterness.  In doing so I have created a rut that has taken me off course.  It has damaged a relationship.

So now I am backing up.  Along the way, I am asking God to help me as I choose to forgive; as I choose to let go of the hurt.  Backing up is rather uncomfortable.  It's an admission of having gone the wrong way.  I don't like that.  It's having to retrace some ground that was painful the first time around.  Although, this time I do it with God's grace and mercy.  I am making my way back to the right path.  My hope is that as I do, there can be restoration.  In the end, the relationship may not be what I want it to be.  That may not be possible.  But, I will be walking the path that God has called me to walk and hopefully, I will be doing it in a way that brings Him praise. 

Trash

I saw them as I walked through the bathroom my daughters share.  They were on the floor.  They were supposed to be in the trash can.  Instead, they were surrounding it.  The sight of them made me want to scream. (Actually, I did scream.)  Pad wrappers....  I didn't understand.  How could they use the bathroom and not see them?  How could they just walk by them and not pick them up?  Was their vision impaired?  Were they saving them for some purpose for which I was unaware?  I'd like to say that I remained calm and politely asked my daughters for an explanation.  But that is not what happened.  Instead, I said something sarcastic about missing the trash can and then began lecturing them about cleaning up after themselves.  By the time I was done, all three were visibly upset.  (So was my daughter's friend who was spending the night.  Thankfully, she spends enough time at our house to know that I'm not always this crazy!)  In trying to explain why the wrappers were left, my daughter told me that 'you get used to your own trash'. 

You get used to your own trash.

I've noticed that trend in my own life before.  Usually, it's a particular sin or bad habit that I become immune to.  I may notice it at first, but I tell myself that I can handle it; it won't be a problem.  Time passes and I get used to seeing it.  I may not like it, but it becomes a part of the landscape of my life.  Then comes the time when I don't even notice it anymore.  It has been fully integrated.  I should have dealt with it swiftly, but I put it off.  I told myself it's not that bad; I'll deal with it later.  Later doesn't come.  And the trash pile continues to grow until someone or something brings it back to my attention. 

Thankfully, I have a family and some good friends who are willing to point out some of my trash piles.  They do it because I have asked them to.  And I know when they point something out, they do so in love and with prayer.  I don't always like having my trash exposed.  It's hard.  It's uncomfortable.  It makes me sad and a little embarrassed.  But I'm not alone.  Because those same people stand by me and walk with me as I begin the process of cleaning up.  And in the end, I am much happier.

Father's Day

I used to dread Father's Day.  When I was younger, kids would tease me about not having a father.  We lived in a small town where, at the time, no one else in my class had experienced divorce.  At the end of the school year when we made gifts for our dads, the kids would taunt me; telling me I had no one to give my gift to.  My heart was broken by the fact that I did have a father, he just chose not to have a relationship with me.  Thankfully, I did have a wonderful grandfather who always showered me with love and affection.  I was his only grandchild for many years and the only granddaughter for twenty.  To say that he spoiled me would be an understatement.  As much as I loved my grandfather and was blessed by his presence in my life, I always wondered what a real father looked like.  Now I know.

From the first moment my husband laid eyes on our first child, I knew a father was born.  He stood there just gazing and smiling at her for what seemed like hours.  He developed an evening routine with her before bed that included play time and a bath.  It was his time with her and it was sacred.  He continued the routine when the quads came along; it just became a little more challenging juggling all five.  I have watched him love each one of them for who God created them to be.  He disciplines them so they know what is right.  He talks to them about who God is and what He has done for us.  He has big expectations for our children because he knows what they are capable of doing, but is gracious and merciful if they fall short of the goal.  He is fiercely protective and creates a safe, loving environment for them to learn and grow.  He does make mistakes, but is strong enough to ask for forgiveness.  I am very thankful for him.

I have seen first hand the love of a father and the blessings it brings to a child.  Through my husband, I witness the sweet reflection of my Heavenly Father's love.  It brings healing to my broken heart and fills me with unspeakable joy.  I am truly blessed!

Scars

My kids like to compare scars.  They compare them with each other and with their friends.  One of my sons has a scar from a friend hitting him in the head with a golf club.  It required stitches.  My other son has a scar from a hernia repair.  (Thankfully, he does not show that scar to anyone!)  My oldest daughter has a scar on her chin and one by her ear from two different falls.  All of my younger children have scars from IVs.  They were nine weeks early and required many.  Sometimes my husband and I will join in and show our various scars.  Some of which we acquired during childhood and some as adults.   In some way, it is interesting to recount the different incidences that caused the injuries.  Often times we find ourselves laughing about the circumstances and the reactions of others.  Some of the stories only got funny with age... 

Comparing our scars is really an act of intimacy.  Through the telling of the stories we discover important details about each other.  We learn of important events.  We learn the thoughts and feelings of others.  We also learn the impact the events have had.  I learned from my oldest daughter, who saw her brother get hit with the golf club, that she thought he was going to die because of all the blood.  She was terrified and worried for her brother.  And now she has no interest in learning to play golf.  She associates it with getting hurt.  (Did I mention she saw me get hit in the head with a golf club as well?) 

You can learn a lot about someone from their scars.  That's why I think it is so important to share them with those who are close to us.  Our scars speak to where we have been and why we react the way we do.  I know it can be scary.  You may not want to share all the gory details, especially at first, but there is closeness that enters into relationships when we share our scars.  And so often, in the sharing, God brings healing.  One day while sharing the scars of my father leaving, my youngest daughter, with tears in her eyes, said that she was sure my father did love me even if he couldn't be with me.  Those words pierced my heart and brought healing in a way that I could never have imagined. 

So don't cover your scars as if they don't exist or don't matter.  They do.  Share them when you feel led to do so.  You may be surprised what God will do....

Smiling

I had lunch with a friend a few days ago.  She was telling me how she had begun taking piano lessons.  She had wanted to learn to play the piano for a while and was given the gift of lessons for her birthday.  Her entire face lit up as she began to tell me about her lessons and the song she was learning.  She became a giddy little girl right before my very eyes.  It was fantastic!  What caught my attention were her comments about how the joy and the richness of playing permeated other areas of her life.  The fulfillment she received while playing the piano overflowed, and brought her peace and satisfaction long after she had finished.  I found myself smiling and being filled with immeasurable joy as she shared her experience.  I can't help but smile every time I think about it!

It made me think about God's reaction when we follow our dreams.  I think it makes Him smile.  After all, He was the one who gave them to us.  And He knows better than anyone, even ourselves, the joy and satisfaction we receive when we pursue a dream.  When we follow our dreams, we become like little children who have discovered a hidden treasure; giddy with excitement.  I think He can't help but smile!  

The Current

My family and I recently went to a large water park.  We spent two full days in the sun and water.  We had a wonderful time.  Some of the rides were thrilling.  We would start off with a sudden drop only to twist and turn and drop some more until we ended with a large splash at the bottom.  There was a lot of screaming involved. (Yes, I am a chicken, but I loved the rides!)  Some of the other rides were a bit more relaxing, like the lazy river.  For this ride, there were currents that would push us down the river.  There were a few rapids thrown in from time to time for a little excitement, but mostly we were to float and enjoy.  However, I found myself not enjoying.  I was getting caught in currents (we called them 'the vortex') that would keep me circling in one place for quite some time.  Often times, my traveling buddies would pass by unable to help.  So there I floated until I was bumped by another rider or a lifeguard helped me.   And once moving I paddled furiously to catch up to my friends.  It could get very frustrating.  And not very relaxing.

At one point, I looked back and saw my oldest daughter caught in the vortex.  I was struck by the look on her face.  She was stuck, but didn't seem all that concerned.  She knew that in time she would get out.  She also knew that sooner or later she would catch up to us or we would stop and wait for her.  She was enjoying the ride.  So while I struggled, she surrendered to the current.  While I wore myself out, she relaxed and went where the water took her; trusting that she would get to where she wanted to go. 

I so want to be like her as I walk this journey.  All too often, I struggle against where God is taking me.  I think I'm not moving fast enough or in the right direction.  I become troubled because others seem to be passing me by.  They seem to be making progress while I'm stuck in the same place unable to catch the current.  I become tired, worn out, grumpy, and unmerciful.  That is not who I want to be.  So, I'm learning to surrender to the current.  I'm allowing God to determine where I go and how fast I'll get there.  I'm learning to enjoy the ride.  

Thankful

I did not want to write today.  It has been a long week.  The last week of school for my kids and all that entails.  The last week to make any changes to my son's mainstream plan for next year.  The last week to try to meet some friends before summer vacations and moves take place.  The last week to have a quiet house for a few hours a day.  Add to that, internet trouble and various minor inconveniences of misplaced items.  I am tired physically and emotionally.  Yet, here I am writing.  I'm writing because my family won't let me skip my scheduled writing times.  And for that, I am so thankful.

I heard a quote from a football coach today.  The main idea was that a coach makes his players do what they don't want to do, so they can achieve the goals they have always dreamed of.  My family has become my coach.  Collectively and individually they push me to do things that I may not want to do, but need to do in order to follow my dream.  They know when I am tempted to put off writing, but won't let me, even if it means they have to wait for something they want.  They know when I am discouraged, so they remind me of my purpose and passion. They will not let me give up or slip into complacency.  They will not allow fear or excuses to stand in the way.  They continue to push and love me as I work toward my goal.  For this precious gift, I am so thankful!

Trust

My eyes are showing their age.  It began right after my 40th birthday.   Everything I read became difficult to read.  I found myself holding things farther from my face so that I could see things clearly.  Soon my arms weren't long enough.  I could no longer deny it; I needed reading glasses.  So I went to the local mega mart and purchased a pair for every room in the house.  (I did that because my eyes aren't the only thing giving out.... I usually can't remember where I put the glasses that I just had on!)  The glasses helped, but then another problem emerged.....I needed more light.  Now if I want to read, I need my glasses and a flood light!  To be honest, this has been a frustrating change.  I like seeing clearly. I like seeing all the details when I read or look at something.  I also like seeing life situations clearly.

Right now, I'm experiencing a situation that is fuzzy and unclear.  I can't see the details.  It is very frustrating.  I know that God is working.  I know He has a plan.  I'm just having trouble seeing.  I've asked to see the plan.  God tells me not to worry; He knows the plan.  I've asked to see Him working.  He tells me to trust Him; He is working.   I tell Him I want to see.  He says, I know; you will someday....  He's calling me to focus solely on Him and not the circumstances.  Some days that is hard.  I am easily distracted.  Other days, He sends me gentle, loving reminders.  Reminders that He delights in me, that He has a plan, and that He can be trusted.  He is faithful.  He is powerful.  He is good. 

He is teaching me to live without seeing all the details.  I learning to trust more.

Why

Why me God?  This is a question that a lot of us have asked at one time or another.  Often it's a response to an unpleasant event.  An unwanted diagnosis.  A death.  A conflict in a relationship.  A problem at work.  A change.  I remember asking this question when we learned we were having quadruplets.  I remember asking it again when our son was diagnosed with autism.  Why me God? 

Often times, we ask why hoping to find an answer that justifies the circumstances we face. Hoping to make sense of it all. And if we can just find the key to why these things are happening, maybe we can stop them. Or change them. Or prevent them in the future.   But all this searching keeps the focus on self.  What have I done? What didn't I do?  

In the last few weeks, I have had wonderful opportunities to live out my passion; my dream.  I have spent time writing and planning upcoming speaking events.  I have spent time with other women where we have encouraged each other and shared our burdens.  I have been blessed and filled with gratitude by these opportunities.  But I find myself again asking, why me God?  Why, of all people, have You given me this gift of living out my dream?  There are more gifted writers and speakers.  There are more spiritually mature and loving women.  There are other women who have not made the mistakes I have made.  Why me God?   The answer, thankfully, does not depend on me, but on who God is.  You see, God loves to take ordinary women and do extraordinary things.  He chooses the weak, the broken, the uncertain, the timid.  He works through them so that everyone can see His power, love, and mercy.  So why me?  Why you?  Because He's God and He can.

Bravery

I heard two stories of bravery today.  One was of a teenage girl; the other a middle aged woman.  Both of them bravely decided not to settle.  They wanted more from their relationships.  They knew they deserved better.  So they let go of what they had, trusting for better.  That is bravery that I want to celebrate!  And it inspires me.

I think we so often settle.  We settle for what we see.  We settle for what we know, even if we don't really like it.  We settle because we don't want to make waves.  We don't want to be seen in a negative way.  We want to be liked.  We begin to settle so much in our lives that we lose sight of what we really want and need.  Soon we are living a life that is so much less than what we dreamed it could be.  But like these women, we too can be brave.  We can make those difficult decisions, have those difficult conversations, and make necessary changes.   We do not have to settle. 

Today, I choose to be brave.

Basketball

I"m learning to play basketball.  I know what you're thinking, at my age I should already know how.  I've watched basketball for years and have played a game of pig once or twice, but I have never really learned anything beyond that.  I was always too afraid of looking silly and uncoordinated.

When I was young, I lived in Arizona and spent most of my time outside in a pool.  I didn't really know anyone who played basketball and by the time I really wanted to learn, I was middle school aged.  We had moved to a new town and there was a girls basketball team.  Those girls had been playing for a long time.  Needless to say, they were pretty good.  I, however, couldn't even walk and dribble the ball at the same time.  (Did I mention that I am not a natural born athlete and have poor eye hand coordination?)  I became embarrassed and ashamed at my lack of ability.  At the time, I didn't realize that what I needed most was instruction and practice.  I just believed that I was a terrible athlete and would never be good at any sport.  So I became content to just sit on the sidelines.  No more...

One of my sons goes out to shoot hoops almost every evening.  He asked me to join him.  So we began by playing pig.  Yes, he won.  Then I asked him to show me how to do a lay up.  He patiently showed me.  As I practiced my shot, he gave me helpful suggestions on how to improve.  I realized something that night;  I look like an uncoordinated middle aged woman who makes funny faces while she shoots a ball.  And I don't care!  I love it!  I am having a great time with my son and I am giving my kids great stories to tell about their mom.  (Usually involving the faces.) 

For so long I have missed the joy of playing the game for fear that I would look silly.  Now I understand that it is not about how I look, but about my willingness to try.  How many other things have I missed out on in life because I didn't want to look silly, or dumb, or awkward? And is it really so bad to look human and imperfect?  Most of us are drawn to people who allow their imperfections and humanity to show.  It reminds us that we don't have to try to be perfect ourselves.  We can simply be who we were created to be. And that is enough.

Disappointment

I'm seeing disappointment in a new way.  Recently, a set of circumstances presented themselves.  I knew in my heart that God was in the midst of the situation and that He was working.  And I began to dream about the incredible things He was going to do.  I dreamed about lives being changed and new life rising from dead bones.  I was ready.  But things have not gone as I had hoped.  Instead, disappointment has come. And if I am honest, my disappointment is that God has not worked in the way I had hoped or thought He would.  He has not followed my suggested plan of what could or should happen. (Oh, is my pride showing?)  So I am disappointed.  My disappointment led to a place of discouragement and questioning.  Did I not hear Him correctly?  Was I being self-centered?  Was I not seeing things clearly?  How could I have been so wrong?

But then He reminded me of something I have learned about myself while watching movies.....  My favorite are epic adventures.  Those have a hero who is thrust into a great adventure to fight some form of evil.  At every turn there seems to be another obstacle to overcome, yet the hero continues.  She may experience disappointment, loss, discouragement and the like, but she continues because she believes in the desired outcome.  She stays focused on the prize; the victory; the big picture.  I so want to be that hero.  I long to be brave and have great adventures that have a lasting impact on the world.

So now instead of questions and discouragement, I'm using my disappointment as motivation. No, I have not seen the desired outcome in the circumstances.  No, God did not work the way I wanted Him to.  No, I don't know why.  (Maybe because He knows better than me and sees the entire picture!)  Yes, I still believe God will work things out in His own time.  The difference for me, is that I won't let disappointment defeat me or stop me from pursuing my dream.  God has helped me turn my disappointment into passion; a passion I know He will use.

Anemic

I have chronic anemia.  It is something I have dealt with for many years.  I have tried adding a lot of iron rich foods to my diet, but they are not enough.  I need to take iron supplements.  The problem is that I am not good at taking them consistently, especially when I'm feeling good.  So I'll skip a few days, which turn into weeks, which turn into months.  At first, I don't really notice a change.  I may get tired more easily, but I have five kids, a husband, and a dog, who wouldn't get tired!  So I cope.  Then other changes occur: I get winded easily, I'm a little more irritable, I feel a little 'blue'.   I don't think about these changes being caused by my low iron until someone asks why I look so pale and tired.  And no woman wants to hear how tired she looks! 

I think we can become anemic in our walk with God.  It can happen in many ways.  Maybe we are disappointed, or neglect our relationship with God, or allow anger and bitterness to take root in our heart, or allow a sin to go unchecked.  Whatever the cause, soon we start having symptoms.  We are easily angered, we use sarcasm to hurt others, we begin to build walls around our hearts, we pull away, we doubt.  Before we know it, we are anemic. We are pale and tired.  We lack life and vitality.

So what do we do?  Often, we turn to the latest book or sermon series, a conference or retreat, or a vacation hoping to bring us back to life.  Those are all good things, but I'm learning that this calls for more than just a quick fix.  It calls for time.  Time with God and His word.  Time with others.  Time for healing.  How much time?  I don't know.  I'll let you know when I get there......

Change

Change can be hard.  I have several friends who are experiencing major changes in their lives.  And I'm not just talking menopause.  Some of the changes are filled with great anticipation.  Some are filled with incredible heart ache.  All of them have an element of uncertainty.  It's that uncertainty that is so unnerving.

We are anticipating a change at my house in the next three months.  My younger kids will be joining their big sister in high school.  I know that compared to other changes, this one may seem minor, but it brings a level anxiety for all of us.  For my younger children, it is the reality of going to school with 3,000 other kids.  And having to meet the requirements of teachers who are preparing them for college.  For my older daughter, it is the realization that she has only two years left before she begins a new chapter in her life.  (Plus, she likes not having her siblings in the same school; she tires of being known as 'the quad's big sister'.)  For me, it's knowing that I have just a few more years of active parenting before my children set out to begin their own lives.  And though I am very excited to see what God has in store for them, I know it will be hard to see them go.  They will soon be adults.  They will be making their own decisions and living their lives.  Will they be ready?  Will they continue to grow in their faith?  What will our relationship look like?  I don't know.  The uncertainty.

So I look to my friends who are dealing with change now.  There are days filled with tears and anger and frustration.  But mostly the days are spent leaning on God; trusting that He does in deed have a plan and that He goes with them at all times.  I know that change will come.  It is inevitable.  I know that there may be difficult times ahead.  But I know I will not be alone.  I will be walking with women who have gone before me.  Women who can help me see the pit falls and gain perspective when I am too near sighted.  Women who inspire me to fully trust God.  For these women, these friends, I am truly grateful.

Transparent

I want to be transparent.  I was talking with a woman whose sister is teaching English in China.  Her real purpose is to share the Gospel.  She is not allowed to tell anyone about Jesus while teaching, but she can outside of school.  So she has set up groups where she might have the opportunity to talk about God.  Apparently, her students love meeting with her.  It made me think.  What draws people to her?  What do they see that is different?  Could it be vulnerability and transparency?

When my children were younger, I was asked frequently how did I do it?  How did I manage five children born 21 months apart without totally losing my mind?  (Thankfully, most of my mind losing was in the comfort of my own home or with close friends who promised to love me no matter what!)  Those questions gave me wonderful opportunities to share God. I told them that I honestly couldn't make it without Him.  I shared how God provided for me, for us, through other people volunteering to help.  I told stories of how other moms encouraged me, supported me, and hugged me when I cried.  I shared how God's word and His presence nourished me, built me up, and changed me.  I found it easy to do because, quite frankly, I was too tired to keep up the mask that we all like to wear.  The one that says: I have it all together. 

I was in over my head and I knew it. But now as the kids get older and I'm getting enough sleep, I find myself trying to put the mask back on.  It seems everyone is wearing one these days. We are all fine and we never really need anything.  Difficult situations are brushed off as no big deal; nothing that we can't handle...... That is not how I want to live my life.  The mask is tiring and burdensome and it creates a barrier in relationships.  I want it off!  And I'm finding that I am not alone.  But there is a fear that lurks there.  It says that certain people will not understand or will twist what they see in order to gain control.  It tells me that what is underneath is not good enough.  But that is a lie. I am God's child; fearfully and wonderfully made. Yes, some may not understand and some may even be disappointed.  But I am willing to risk it for the freedom and the joy that I experience as I live my life without the mask.  Care to join me?

Grace

I got a wonderful picture of grace while walking with my son.  We were talking about an incident where I pushed him down on the ice....  I didn't mean to push him down.  We were goofing around while taking a break from ice skating.  I was trying to pretend to push him down....Not my best parenting moment.  I helped him up, told him I was very sorry, and tried to hug him.  (He's a teenager and does not want to be hugged by his mom in public!)  Later as we walked and laughed about my parenting skills, he said he could name at least five other times where I "messed up".   He named the time I backed the van into a mailbox and of my mad 80's dancing skills in public.  Then he paused; he thought for awhile and said he couldn't remember any more.  Wow!  That is grace.

You see, while he was thinking, I thought of several things he could say.  The times I lost my temper and yelled.  The times I didn't validate his feelings.  The times I was selfish and told him, "just one more minute" until he left with his need unmet.  Yet, he didn't remember those times.  He was not holding on to my mistakes.  He had let them go, but I hadn't.

That's the problem we have, isn't it?  We don't let go of our mistakes.  We  feel bad.  We ask for forgiveness when necessary.  We try to make restitution.  But then we continue to hold them close.  We play them over and over in our minds.  We use them to feed our insecurities and our fear.  But that is not how God wants us to live.  He wants us to seek His mercy and grace.  In doing so, we can let go of our mistakes and live in freedom.  Free from the guilt and comdemnation.  God says He will remember our sins no more.  He and my son have let them go.  Now it's time for me to do the same.

Letting Go

When do you know it's time to let go?  I watched as my second oldest daughter cleaned out her school binder.  She sorted her papers into two piles.  One to keep and one to throw away.  I asked her if she liked cleaning out her binder.  She said, "yes because I find stuff that I have been carrying around that I don't need and I can get rid of it." She is a smart girl. 

As I continue to unpack my dream, I'm finding things that don't work for me any more.  Thoughts, attitudes, and situations that at one time seemed to make sense or be beneficial, no longer work.  In fact, they cause trouble.  I should let them go.  But I find myself struggling.  Do I really need to let them go?  Should I figure out a way to make them work?  After all, I have carried some of them around for years.  It would be a shame to throw them out now..... My daughter, on the other hand, seemed to have no trouble throwing out the things she didn't need.  There was no struggle, no deep contemplation, no tears.  She simply threw them away and went on with her day.  The difference?  No emotional attachment.  Who she is and her value as a person are not wrapped up in her various notes and test scores found in her binder.  I, however, have become emotionally attached to my stuff.  I have allowed my stuff to become a part of me.  I have allowed it to become a permanent resident.  But, now I know I have a choice.

I can choose what I will allow in my life.  I can choose to let go of those things that don't work.  This has led to some tough decisions.  I know that not everyone will be happy with some of the choices I make.  They may question my motives.  They may question my reasoning.  They may even question my faith.  But I will not let that stop me.  It's time to let go....

The Contract

I have a contract with my family to write a book.  My oldest daughter wrote it.  When I was sharing my dream with her, she asked me what was stopping me.  I began to give her a list of excuses.  Fear of course was there, as were certain family obligations.  Somehow the tasks of laundry, dinner making, house cleaning, errand running, dog walking, and the like seemed far more important than pursuing a dream of writing.  My daughter was unwilling to accept my excuses and encouraged me to make my writing a priority.  (I told you she was going to change the world!)  Thus, the contract was written. 

It says in part: "we formally agree to support fully Karen in pursuing her dream of writing and publishing (a) book(s).  This includes moral support such as, but not limited to, encouragement of her abilities, what she is doing, and why she is doing it.....This also includes nonverbal support such as helping out around the house and letting her have time to write... By signing this, the subjects also agree that when it gets tough, we are her safety net and will gladly catch her and lift her back up....."  It was signed by all seven of us.

This contract is important to me.  It reminds me that my writing is not only important to me, but to my family.  It also helps remind me to make it a priority.  I have two writer friends who struggle with this as well. One has already published a bible study (God is in the Laundry Room) and the other has children's books in her heart and mind that are waiting to be written. Each one of has used excuses to put our dreams on hold or to put other things first.  Yet, I think the pursuit of a dream should be a priority. Our dreams bring joy and purpose to our lives.  And pursuing them teaches others to be brave and pursue their own dreams. 

I still have to do laundry, make dinner, clean the house, and the like, but I will no longer use them as excuses.  Besides, I don't want to have to explain to my family that I breached the contract.    


  

Healing

Do you want to be well?  I thought this question odd when Jesus asked it of a man who had been an invalid for 38 years. Of course, he wants to be well!  Who wants to be an invalid all those years?!  But I knew there was a reason He asked.

Years ago, I was confronted with a similar question.  I was seeing a therapist.  I had told her my story.  I told her of my hurts and brokenness.  I told her the effects my brokenness was having on my life.  I was sad, angry, and depressed.  After a few weeks, she confronted me.  If I wanted to continue my pity party and stay in my role as a victim, I didn't need to come back.  But, if I wanted to move from victim to survivor; she would see me the following week. Ouch!....  Did I really want to be well?  I thought I did, but maybe I didn't.  My hurt was such a part of me; it had become like a friend.  I was comfortable with it.  I knew what to expect from my hurt.  We had a certain pattern and rhythm together.  Who would I be without my hurt?  How would I function without it?  Did I really want to be well?  Was I willing to let go of what I knew, in order to have something different?   Would I put my fear aside and courageously reach for something better?

I showed up the next week ready to work.  It was scary.  It was tough.  But oh, was it worth it!   I still cry when I remember the day I went from victim to survivor.  Jesus knew what He was doing.  He asks us that question today.  Do you want to be well?  After all, He came so that He could bind up the brokenhearted, proclaim freedom for the captives, and release from darkness for the prisoners.  It may be scary.  It may have some challenges.  But incredible things happen when we answer yes.    

Dream Killers

Beware the dream killer.... My oldest daughter wants to change the world.  She wants to show others that the possibilities in life are unending; especially when you are a child of God.  She wants others to be bold and courageous; to follow their dreams; to live life beyond what they can see presently.  I love her passion and her drive.  But as she shares her dreams with others, I have noticed an interesting phenomena....the dream killer.  The dream killer lurks everywhere.  It shows up when a shared dream runs in to helpful people who want to make sure the dreamer is being realistic and careful. ....Do you have a back up plan? Are you sure that's what you really want to do? So you really think you can....?  I'm just being realistic....

Why do we do that? Why do we so quickly want to stop the dreaming?  I think it's fear.  Their bravery somehow makes us afraid. It make us afraid that we might be missing out on something bigger than what we have grown satisfied with.  Some would say that they don't want their loved ones to be disappointed or hurt if the dream is not realized.  I think we put our own excuses, for not pursuing our dreams, on other people.  If we can get others to accept our excuses, they seem valid and wise. Then we can go back to our safe and comfortable lives.  Fear wins again.

I say, NO MORE DREAM KILLER!  I will not participate anymore!  I, myself, will dream and encourage others to dream.  I will continue to fight to live in possibilities, not fear.  I will be strong and courageous for my God will be with me wherever I go.... I know my daughter will have an impact on the world.  How that looks and where God will take her is not known to me; but He knows.  So I will continue to fight the dream killers with her, for her sake and mine.

Motherhood

Motherhood was my first dream.  While I was growing up, I was always encouraged to find and build a career.  I was told to live on my own and learn to be self sufficient.  So I studied in school and searched for what I wanted to be when I grew up.  Secretly though, I dreamed of being a mom.  I didn't think I could tell anyone about my dream.  Girls were supposed to pursue being a doctor or lawyer, not being a mom.  But one day, I shared my dream.  So, when the timing seemed right, my husband and I decided to start a family. 

It seemed easy enough.  We had friends who were having children.  They would decide to start a family and within a short time, announce their pregnancy.  Some of them even planned which month they would have their child!  It seemed that God had other plans for us.  We tried.  We prayed.  We sought medical help.  But there was no child. 

Getting pregnant became my obsession.  It became my idol.  God doesn't like it when you have idols.  So He began to pursue me; to woo me back to Him.  I'd like to say that I turned around quickly without much coaxing.  But that would be a lie.  I'm a bit stubborn.  It took some time.  Some yelling.  And a lot of tears.  Until one day, I laid my dream of pregnancy and children on the altar.  I was willing to let go of my dream so that I could cling to God. 

In time, He was gracious enough to give us children.  First, a beautiful daughter and then, a set of quadruplets made up of two boys and two girls.  It hasn't been easy.  And there are days I would like to forget.  But it has been wonderful.  I get the honor and privilege of living out my most treasured dream.  God is good!

Motivation

I'm taking a tip from the Biggest Loser.  For the past several years, my family and I have watched the Biggest Loser.  The physical transformations are astounding.  My favorite part, however, is the emotional transformation of the contestants.  Most of them come to understand that their extra weight is just a symptom of their hurt, anger, betrayal, loss, or negative thinking.  I love it when the trainers help them see their flawed thinking and challenge them to reclaim who they really are.  They usually do this by getting in the contestant's face and yelling; pushing them to do more than they thought they could.  It makes me want a personal trainer for life.... without the yelling.  Someone who pushes me to reclaim who I really am.

Since I'm not going to hire a trainer, I thought I'd use another of their tools: signs.  There are several signs on the wall of the gym the contestants use to keep everyone motivated and focused.  So I have decided to put sayings, pictures, or other items on my wall to keep me motivated.  In the past I have kept these things in a folder or a box.   From time to time, I take them out.  I look at them, feel a bit of inspiration and motivation, and put them back.  The problem is, life moves in and I quickly forget those things.  (Unfortunately, as I age I find I forget a lot of things quickly.)  So out they come for good.  I want to be able to look at them and be reminded daily of who I really am, what makes me passionate, and why I'm pursuing my dream.  My hope is that over time, I will be pushed to do more than I ever thought I could do.

Easter

Easter is my favorite holiday.  One reason I love it so much has to do with my kids.  When I found out I was pregnant with quadruplets, I asked God to carry them until Easter.  Easter marked the beginning of my 31st week of pregnancy; and something in me believed that if I made it to that point, the kids would be okay.  So I began to pray.  I experienced some pre-term labor and was even in the hospital the week before Easter, but Easter morning, after begging my doctor, I was at Easter service.  I cried through most of it.  I was just so humbled that God would grant my request.  Me, a woman who had not always walked with God.  A woman whose life, I thought, often fell short of what it was meant to be.

But that is what Easter is all about.  We are unworthy of the precious gift that God has so graciously given us.   But "while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us...because God so loved the world." And while Christ's death for us is incredible, His resurrection from the dead demonstrates his victory over sin and death.  This news brings such joy and peace to my heart.  I can rest in the assurance that no matter what I have done or will do, no matter how much I may fall short, I can call out to my God and He will hear me.  "I love the Lord, for He heard my voice; He heard my cry for mercy.  Because He turned His ear to me, I will call on Him as long as I live."  Happy Easter!

Grieving

The death of a dream.  Some dreams were never meant to be fulfilled this side of heaven.  When my husband and I had children, we automatically began to dream dreams for them.  We dreamt about what they would look like, who they would become, their gifts and talents, their spouses, their passions; the lives God planned for them.  Then, one day came the diagnosis we were expecting....autism.  Suddenly, the dreams we had for our son died.  Those dreams were replaced by questions.  Will he ever speak?  Will he go to school with his siblings?  Will he be able to live on his own?  What do we do now?

What do you do when the spouse you were to grow old with leaves or dies?  What do you do when the children you dreamed of having never come?  What do you do when your empty nest is suddenly filled with your grandchildren needing to be raised?  What do you do when the business you dreamed of owning fails?  You grieve.  I grieved.  I yelled at God.  I cried.  I got mad.  I prayed for a miraculous healing that never came.  Grief is something we all face in this fallen world.  No one likes it, and we don't get to choose if or when we experience it.  The problem isn't the grief itself, it's the getting stuck in the grief.  The problem comes when we decide to live day after day in the grief; accepting it as a burden to be carried to the bitter end.  And that's what happens, we become bitter to the end.

So what do you do when a dream dies?  You let it go.  I had to let go of the dreams I once had for my son.  And as I did, a wonderful thing began to happen.  New dreams appeared.  Dreams of who God made him to be.  Dreams of what God planned for him to do.  So I began to look for the gifts and talents that my son possessed and I began to see the new possibilities.  Yes, they were different, but not any less important or significant.

Sometimes the grief returns.  I have a friend who refers to it as a wave.  Sometimes I can see the wave coming, like at our yearly school evaluations.  Sometimes, the wave takes me by surprise.  It comes, and I find myself crying again for lost dreams.  I once again have to release them into God's hands.  But I have learned that the grief does leave and that there are new dreams to dream.

Digging

I'm a fairly practical person.  I like activities that have a few simple directions with almost certain results.  That's why I use a recipe when I cook.  I want to know that if I add certain ingredients together, I will end up with a family pleasing meal.  (This of course, rarely happens with 7 family members no matter how good the recipe is!)  My husband on the other hand, can look in the pantry or refrigerator, throw seemingly random things together using his creativity, and please everyone at the table.  I wish I could do that, but that is not who I am so I just appreciate the gift and eat his delicious creations.  So for those of you who like some guidelines or starting points, I thought I'd share three things that helped me as I tried to dig up lost dreams, gifts, and talents.

1.  Get a journal.  Take some time and think about those things you used to do that brought you or others joy.  Write down all the things you can think of, even the little silly things.  I started with my childhood and worked my way through my young adult years. Then look for patterns or common themes. This helped me to rediscover who I really was at heart.

2.  Take a friend to lunch.  Tell her what you're doing and ask her for help.  Ask her what gifts and talents she sees in you.  I found that friends would see things in me that I would overlook or count as insignificant. They helped me see my gifts in a new light.  By the way, this is always a great time to remind your friend of those gifts you see in her and what she means to you.  Who doesn't need a good lunch with a healthy dose of encouragement?

3.  Start trying things.  Look for ways to use those gifts and talents.  Give yourself permission to try new things, even if it means you might fail or discover you don't like it.  Through this process I discovered that despite having many children, teaching them was not my gift.  Large groups of children in one room make me very nervous!  So try different things; explore your world. 

I'd like to say that if you do steps 1,2, & 3 that all will be revealed; you'll discover who you were meant to be and what you were meant to do.  Unfortunately life doesn't work that way.  Think of this as an adventure to be played out over time, enjoying it as it unfolds.  Happy digging!

Forgotten

I had forgotten.  These were the words running through my mind as I drove home.  I had just had lunch with an old friend from law school.  (Yes, according to my kids I am old and so are my friends.  Sorry friends!)  We were reminiscing about our adventures in school; the professors, the other students, the time spent trying to relax, and our competition...

In each class, there would be an award given out to the student with the highest average in the class for the semester.  In our second and third years, we had several classes together and vowed to beat the other one to grab the award.  The competition was always very close. (I think I won the most awards, but who's counting?)  The thing is, until we were talking, I had forgotten about who I was at that time.  I had forgotten that I really put my heart and soul into something I wanted and had achieved my goal.  I had forgotten the gifts and talents that God had given me that allowed me to succeed in school.  I had forgotten that I really could put two or more coherent sentences together.  I had forgotten an important part of me.

I didn't mean to.  It just happened.  Life happened.  Five kids in twenty-one months, happened.  I think a lot of us forget who we are when life happens to us.  We get caught up in the mundane and necessary activities of life and can forget some of those gifts and talents we posses.  Or we minimize them to the point that we don't use them.  Or we are faced with a life altering situation so we set them aside.  There comes a time, though when it's important to dig up those forgotten gifts and talents.  They were meant to be used; for both our own benefit and for the benefit of others.

So, what gift or talent have you forgotten or abandoned?  What important part of you have you buried?  I tell you, now is the time to dig them up!