Perfecting Tools

Gatlinburg Fire 2016

Sometimes...MOST times God doesn't come to us in a way we'd expect. I know that some people appear to have been on the same pew at church since the day they were born. It may seem as if God speaks to them in quiet Bible studies with friends at a local coffee shop or during major milestones in their lives, the happy ones. I know that He can and often does bend down to us in those ways, but I just want to encourage you today if that's not exactly how you've felt His presence lately. It's only just dawned on me recently that this is not how my story is going, either. I think that's okay. I was not a good mother today. I wasn't even a good person.  Before you say, "Oh, she's just being hard on herself", please let it sink in that I was demonstrating all of the behaviors I try so hard to prune out of my children. I was easily angered. Shouting over trivial things. Honestly, whole-heartedly annoyed at our home life. Typing all of these, convicts me yet again. To reset, I had to just get outside and see the beauty of His creation and remember what I was trying to accomplish in bringing up my children. When we think of Jesus, thoughts often drift toward the healer that He was- how He made the lame to walk and the blind see. We know that He could just speak and problems would fade away. What we don't always remember is that Jesus didn't always work in that way. We don't have to look far to know that He doesn't always work in that way now, either. Do you remember the story of Paul when he was stoned, beaten half to death, but he marched back into town to share God's word (see Acts 14)? What about the story of the three young men thrown into the fiery furnace because of their faith (see Daniel 3)? These people went through the fire. Some literally, some figuratively. James 1:2-4 says, "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." I don't really think that James is asking us to be joyful all the time about our sufferings, but to instead to be joyful in the hope and promise of what those trials will bring later. Paul talks about it in Romans 5, too. We have hope. As mothers we have hope. Our kids can have hope. Today my fire came in the form of wild little boys who are much louder than their mama. It blazed in my heart when x, y, and z didn't go as planned. The fire raged on in the words that were said. And it hurt. It's not always as simple as Him parting the waters. Sometimes, it needs to hurt a little. I don't always feel Him the most when I've sat down in my comfortable chair by the fire with my five trillion pretty colored markers to write down all that I'm learning in my studies. He speaks to me in other ways, too. Often, He speaks to me through the good and perfect gifts He sent me in Kinley, Abel, Merit, and Saylor. Wendy Speake co-authored a great book that I recommend called Triggers and in it, she wrote "That perfect gift, swaddled, is the perfecting tool that will bring us to maturity." There are no perfect kids, perfect homes, perfect mornings. But our Heavenly Father IS perfecting us. "Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life which God has promised to those who love him." James 1:12 I'm so grateful for these little perfecting tools that are my children. God has used them in so many ways already and I know that He will continue to help us help each other.  So here's to you, whoever you are that is reading this now. Your life isn't perfect, but God has a perfect plan for it. Perfecting insinuates action. He's working on you through your trial at work, at home, or wherever. Right now. He hasn't abandoned you. He's in the fire, too.

Turning Coffee Into Words

If I had a cup of joe for every hour that I'm awake, it still wouldn't be enough. Now I understand why my best friend's mom always drank an entire pot of coffee every day--it was because once upon a time, she also had kids very close together in age who didn't yet take care of themselves and maybe she was just as tired as I often am. I'm not sure if my mental exhaustion fuels my physical exhaustion or vice versa, but here I sit turning coffee into words yet again, just so I can stay awake until their bedtime. 

It's funny because a little over a month ago I thought, I'm going to be a blogger again--a legit one. I'll write multiple times a week and start creating content again that doesn't entirely revolve around wiping noses and butts. Psych. You knew better, didn't you? Alas, I'm back but I don't know how often you can count on me. 

Life is good. I've learned some things already this year and it's only January. For example, ear buds will save your motherhood. Just plug those suckers in and listen to your music, a book, or watch a t.v. show as you're washing dishes and you can't hear all the blood curdling screams that come from the little people you created as they fight over who gets the one purple shark car out of the, literally, hundreds of other matchbox cars in the container to choose from. In fact, just go ahead and throw that one car out if they fight over it. It's not worth it and you know it. Along with everyone else and their sister, I've been on a mission to de-clutter and attempt a short embrace with minimalism. I can only have a short one because if I'm honest, I'd buy all the discounted yoga pants and athletic shoes I find if I could. You only live once right? Can't take the money with ya, right? It's a problem I'm working on. Still, I've been donating our clothes, toys, kitchen items, books, movies, and home decor like a crazy person and I'll let you in on a secret. You can't even freakin' tell. It's bad. Just this weekend I knew I was going to feel an enormous weight lifted when I packed my car down, packed to the vents, with stuff and sent it off to the local thrift store. Much to my surprise, though--I can't even tell. We acquire so much STUFF and if Jordan and I don't move every year then we start to become loaded down by it if we're not careful. Civilian life has been weird in that aspect. I didn't think I would miss moving often, but I sort of do. It's as if you get a clean slate at each new place. It's a new opportunity to start fresh in schedules, routines, and more. But that's what January is for, too. 2017 is here and I've got faith it will be our best year yet!

Denali National Park circa July 2010

The renewing of my attitude is something that I want to make a conscious effort in changing this year. This morning I woke up feeling the familiar tug from Satan telling me that I'm just not good enough. Jordan has been out of town on business this week so I've not had extra help with getting the kids to and fro. I cancelled some of Abe's therapy appointments today because of time conflicts with school and babysitting options. It shouldn't be a big deal. It shouldn't be the end of the world, but in my mind I'm sad because he has all this extra stuff to deal with. I don't want him to think of himself as different in a bad way. Rather, I'd like him to wake up and feel great about himself knowing that he overcomes obstacles in listening and hearing hourly that most will never have to endure and he does it with such a tenacious spirit that other people envy his positivity and want it to rub off on them. I want him to be everything that I am not. Because when I wake up and see all the hungry tummies, the hour on the clock, and the busy schedule in front of us- it might as well be Mt. Everest. I've never been this way. I used to wake up feeling like I could do anything I set my mind to do and deep down, I know that I still can if it's in God's will, but it's as if I can't find the right settings in my brain. Listen, I know I'm a great mom. I do crappy things, but at the end of the day I've poured every last little bit of me into them and that's all I can do. We're afloat and that's good. I've got to let these little things go. It's not the end of the world if he misses therapy.

When I spend time with my Creator--when I slow down this busy schedule of ours and hold my babies and read His Word, I'm reminded that each morning He prepares me for my work. In Philippians, it says He "strengthens" me. Just like the spirit of newness that comes with a move or a new calendar year, God gives us the opportunity to start fresh each morning.

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." (Lamentations 3:22-23)

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." (Psalm 30:5)

The inspired Word of God tells me that I have hope in this life and so I will. Thank you, Lord for another day spent with my kids. GREAT is thy faithfulness Lord unto me.

Kids, man.

Kids, man. They'll kill ya. At least it feels like that tonight.

This morning I listened as my girlfriend told me, "You know, when you're pregnant, you wait for the day that the little person will call you 'Mommy' and then a few years later when you hear it yelled in the car, in the house, on the way into the store...you get to the point where you hate it." She laughed as she
said it, but I knew what she meant. It's so hard when you stay home with your children 24/7. There's no break.

The move has been hard, too. Each move we've done gets progressively more difficult, even though each time we've moved the distance gets smaller and smaller. We're finally home, but because we have three children now who were very much accustomed to their schedules in Cleveland, it has been difficult to find a groove here this week. We are staying at a home my parents own. It is a two bedroom. The oldest two are learning to share a room and that has been awful to put it nicely. I guess I didn't come here to complain, though. I have a glass of wine, three-ok four- Dove chocolates nearby, Big Daddy Weave in my headphones and my keyboard in a desperate attempt to not curl up in the fetal position and die tonight. I just had to start writing because as I was attempting to catch up on my emails, I had to stop. Abel's new speech therapist wrote to me and suggested some mother's day out programs and preschools that we could take him to so that he is around much more language than he encounters here between Kinley and me. I started researching the schools and I was overcome with the urge to cry because as much as I want to pull all my hair out during the day (and most of the night), I can't bear the thought of other people getting to see him (them!) the majority of the time. They tell me socialization and school is what is best for him as a cochlear implant recipient, but as his mama, I just want him with me. But then I think back to him opening the fridge eleventy billion times today after I asked him not to and it's a little easier. Not much, though. Look, I know my identity is wrapped up in these kids. I love them fiercely and the reason I get so upset when they're naughty is because I do care so much about them and the young men they grow up to be. I want to be the one who shows them Jesus. I want so desperately to be a good mom.

Truth is, I'm just as human as they are. I never struggled with anger until I had children. There are days when I raise my voice until I'm unrecognizable. There are more days than not I am mad, so mad, that Abel is deaf. I'm selfish. I say things I don't mean. I'm just a big child, a sinner. "For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do" (Romans 7:15). I am in a constant state of asking for forgiveness, for help, for guidance. And it makes me wonder- is this just how it is?

I can't help but believe it's not supposed to be like this, but then I hear Kinley having a pleasant, warm, intelligent conversation with someone and I know I must be doing something right. I watch as Abel, my deaf son, responds to situations with words- "Uh-oh!", he says as his younger brother drops a toy. "No!", he says, as his other brother does something to provoke him. I can't help but feel a little pride because I'm working so hard with him. I want him to talk and so I work with him, I take him to all his appointments, I try. And I think I must be doing something right. Then I look at Merit and kiss his sweet cheeks over and over and he giggles as his face breaks out into the most perfect grin and I know I'm doing something right. I think that one thing I might be doing right is that I'm desperately running, chasing after a relationship with my Heavenly Father. He is the only thing that is unchanging. He is the only one who can make me new. Through Him, I will keep pouring myself into my children even if it kills me. They're worth it. Every day.

"She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her; "Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all." Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Honor her for all that her hands  have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate." Proverbs 31: 26-31

Thanksgiving {on Abel's deafness}

This year, man. It's been a tough one. I can't say that it has been totally awful because I got to welcome the sweetest surprise baby into my life and I love him deeply. We sure have much to be thankful for. Still, I strive to be honest here and this year has not been the walk in the park we expected when we finally got to move home to East Tennessee. Looking back, I can see God's hand in all of it and his divine plan is truly what I want.

I don't know why Abel is deaf. He's not broken, but I still grieve for his "normal" life from time to time. It hits me like a ton of bricks. It comes at me when I least expect it. 'Sorry, we can't go to the park right now. We have to go to an appointment.' Little things like that get me. He's (almost) two. Now's the time to play. Instead, we spend a lot of time driving and waiting. Waiting for an appointment to start. Waiting for some other problem to arise. Waiting on him to hear consistently. Waiting on him to try to talk. Waiting for me to feel okay about this decision we made to get him cochlear implants. That's what this is about, really.

The truth is, I've never felt completely confident that this is the route we should have taken. Sure, the surgery is in and out for most kids, but my curly headed middle child has had more than his share of hiccups already. It has been roughly three months since his surgery. Since then, he has dealt with constant ear infections because the surgeon removed his tubes during the procedure. While many babes are up and running around within a few days, our post surgery days looked more like this:

He couldn't move his head off the pillow. Then when he finally did a day or two later, he was very off balance. That comes and goes. This past week, he started having symptoms of Bell's Palsy on top of the ear infections. His immune system has been compromised and now he has come down with the flu. And I can't help but think it's my fault that he's dealing with any of it. What if I had just developed my sign language more fully? What if we sent him to the deaf school so he could be around that language? What if I hadn't allowed the cochlear implants to be put in his head, would he still be having all these health problems?

There's the other side of it, too though. What if he resented me for not taking advantage of the window of time as a baby that is best for success with CIs? What if he felt disconnected from his family or his brothers because our sign language skills lacked? What if he never heard his child's voice thirty years down the road and he wondered why I let him miss out on that opportunity?

I could go on forever. Back and forth. Back and forth. I'm not called to do that, though.

In the book of Luke, it says: "Who of you can add an hour to your life by worrying?" Still, I tell myself that I will go into each situation with a positive attitude and I keep up the facade (fake it til ya make it!) for as long as I can muster and eventually end up in a puddle of tears.

Today was no different. Because he has all the issues going on, they wanted to put his ear tubes back in immediately. That procedure is pretty standard. But what was planting itself in the back of my mind was that he had the flu and is having a hard time breathing. It turned out to be a problem with the anesthesiologist, too and he refused to do the surgery. The surgeon was persistent saying that he had to have them (which gave me more to worry about in the back of my mind) and the two of them went toe to toe eventually settling on having the surgery today. I stayed back with the baby because he seems to be developing a cold and I'm nursing. I also needed to be here to get the oldest kiddo, too. During these heated conversations with the doctors helping our boy, I didn't hear from Jordan. After multiple calls and texts went unanswered, I called my sister in a panic attack. I couldn't breathe. I was crying hysterically. I just knew something bad had happened because it always seems to this time of year. I have so many people tell me I'm strong, but these moments remind me I have a long way to go. I think maybe God is slowly peeling back all the layers. Guilt, be gone. Worry, be gone. Trust in ME. I hear it, but I'm like Paul in Romans

"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." (Romans 7:15)

So while this may not seem like a typical Thanksgiving post, it's mine. I'm thankful that God is still working on me, that He hasn't given up on me, that He won't. I'm thankful that He is authoring Abel's life. I'm thankful for this amazing opportunity for my boy to have cochlear implants. I'm thankful for his deafness....and I hope he will be, too.

Guilt and Grace

The first post on a blog is always awkward. This first post will be no different. It's customary to introduce oneself, but I don't feel the need to do that. You either know me or you don't. You like me or you don't. I can't really sway those feelings either way by words on a computer screen so I won't try. I felt drawn to write today because I'm feeling so stretched in every direction. There are so many people who keep calling me "SuperMom" and there couldn't be a person more unworthy of that title. I'm not her (although I'm going to be for Halloween!). I try to be her, but I fall short all the time. I want to let go of the guilt-

-the my child did this today and that's a reflection of ME guilt

-the my child needs a therapy program that isn't available around me guilt

-the I don't remember the last time I actually cooked dinner guilt

-the I'm not fit enough guilt

-the I still have so much sin in my life guilt

-the I pin activities to do with my kids, but don't actually ever do them guilt

-the my house is messy so my life must be messy guilt

If I look, I can find guilt and regret in so many things. But guess what?

-Sometimes kids just do or say crappy things. It doesn't mean I'm a bad mom. It doesn't mean that I'm not trying. It simply means my work isn't yet done. It's just beginning.

-The therapy can be done at home if I discipline myself to learn how to do it and follow through. I can help him.

-My husband enjoys cooking. Why would I add to my already full plate so to speak?

-I have three kids. One who has doctors and therapy appointments multiple times a week. One who keeps me up all night. I don't have much help because I can't afford it. It's exercise or sleep and the former rarely wins.

-Sin? Who doesn't have it? Only one. And he set me free from mine.

-As far as Pinterest goes, isn't it the thought that counts? ;)

-Again, I have three kids. Four if you count my other half. Their median age is 2.25. All boys. I could clean eight hours a day and not be finished.

I'm making a decision right now (at least for today) to be done with the guilt. Sure, it'll creep back up and try to get me, but I'll just have to remind myself that that girl is gone. I'm working. I'm trying. I'm doing a good job. And I'd venture to bet that you are, too.

Give yourself some grace.

"She watches over the affairs of the household and does not eat the bread of idleness."

Proverbs 31:27