Practice

 Our local youth rodeo series began a couple weeks ago, and that means big fun has begun for my little cowboys.  It is the second year that (a) has participated, and by the end of the summer (b) will be joining him for one event this year.  I will be very clear up front and say that we are not doing this for our kids to win awards or titles.  Most important to us are the fact that it is something they love, they are learning important life lessons, and making the kind of friends and mentors we are please for them to have.  HOWEVER, we would like to not be totally embarrassed by their performance, and if they happen to win some prize money or awards along the way that would be great. 

 

As we headed toward the first rodeo, I had a serious talk with (a) about what events he wanted to participate in and we discussed that if he was going to do these, he would need to be practicing.  Entries were due a week before the rodeo and he adamantly chose to participate in mutton bustin’, dummy roping, and goat tail untieing.  Now mutton bustin’ is hard to practice when you don’t have any sheep readily available, but he has a roping dummy and several things that could function for goat tail practice.  For the past few months, he has been practicing the goat tail event (as has (b) which is hilarious because he incorporates sound effects), but he was NOT doing a great job practicing his roping.  Because of this I seriously questioned him when he was determined to enter the event.  I gave in to his request, but told him I had high expectations for him to practice.  That night practice was a total disaster.  At one point or another all three kids were hit in the head with the rope (which is pretty stiff and has a pretty good sting if it gets ya), his form was embarrassingly terrible from lack of practice, and his attitude stunk.  Before the evening was over, I was in tears and pretty frustrated that I had given in to his request to be entered.  The other practices of the week weren’t much better and I was beginning to think about how I could hide behind a tree and pretend NOT to be the mom of this contestant when it was his turn.  Thankfully a quick trip home to Indiana landed him a roping practice with his Aunt Kayda (who is good at it and knows FAAARRRR more than either one of his parents).  She has the patience of Job with this child, and through some bribery and sweet talking, was able to get him to listen to her lessons on form and technique.  To all of our shock and amazement, the day of the rodeo he had three legal catches out of his 6 attempts (too bad two of them were during practice and not competition).  A little feeling of accomplishment went a long way, and he is now eagerly having roping practice in our yard almost every evening.  He sent a video to his three-month-old cousin last night and told him “I’m having roping practice.  I have practice every night because practice is important!” 

What a change of perspective- he was frustrated originally and didn’t want to practice because he wasn’t any good.  But he has now learned that he isn’t going to be good without the practice and it is making a difference.  While I wasn’t happy with him about his perspective at first, I realize I am often the same way.  I forget that so many things in life take practice.  I want to feel successful without practice, when in reality if I am going to have any success I need to practice.  Practice using patience, practice loving others when it is hard, practice exercising self-control, practice biting my tongue when something doesn’t need to be said, practice appreciating others, practicing to pray and waiting on an answer.  The opportunities come every single day- even (or maybe most especially in) my own house.  Lord, help me be willing to practice becoming who you want me to be.

 

“Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me- put it into practice.  And the God of peace will be with you.” Philippians 4:9

Complete

It was a fun day for deliveries at our house today.  Two separate packages arrived that completed some sets I have been building for the last five years.  One was a set of canvas photographs.  When we were expecting (a) we took a picture of just our feet with a pair of baby cowboy boots between ours.  We repeated the same pose with our family when I was expecting (b) and one more time with (lk).  I had waited all these years to print them because I wanted to have a complete set and make sure I printed them as the same size and format.  The second package to arrive was a special figurine.  While I am typically NOT a collector of “things,” for several years I have been growing a collection of Willow Tree figures from many different occasions.  By far my most special of these pieces though are the ones (A) has added for me with each child.  Today my set arrived depicting all 5 of us together as a family. 

Original professional photos by Tammy Williams Photography, Emily Curtis, and La Di Da Photography LLC.  All three are fantastic and I would totally recommend them- the changes just happened because of our move and their availability because of that.

It is always fun to have new home décor, so of course I was excited to get these pieces, but more than that it was a special feeling in my heart of completeness.  I hadn’t printed the canvas photographs until I felt like we had taken all the pictures.  I love my little statues, but the one with all 5 of us felt like it belonged in the middle as a completion of that part of the collection. 

 

The last three weeks as a new family of 5 have been crazy, stressful, exhausting, and hard, BUT they have also been a lot of fun, have filled my heart with joy, and stretched my capacity to love.  For the first time, I look at our family and my heart feels complete.  It COULD be the fact that all our bedrooms are full, all the seats in our vehicles are occupied, and my washer and dryer never have a break, but I really don’t think that is the real reason.  I truly believe it is because these are the precious littles that God was calling us to raise.  We weren’t done after the first because he was created to be an amazing big brother to his siblings.  We weren’t done after the second because he needed the opportunity to show us what a heart he had for being a helper (not to mention his deep desire to be the comedian of our crew).  While our third hasn’t yet had a chance to show her personality, we know God has big plans for her life as well- and we know that we were called to raise these three blessings to love and serve the Lord.  My heart feels an overwhelming amount of peace and joy as it now feels whole and complete. 

 

For me, there is always a sense of bittersweet that comes when I know something is complete.  When I graduated high school, I was excited for the future, but there was a small sense of sadness for what was over.  When I graduated college, I was thrilled to be looking toward marriage and a teaching career, but there was some sadness at parting ways with incredible friends and leaving a campus I loved.  When the chapter of our lives in Indiana closed, we were excited about the future of a new ministry and new friends to be made, but there was also a lot of sadness about leaving many things and people we loved.  My heart has felt a little of the same way the last few weeks.  I am so thankful for this family God has given us and I feel so blessed for the opportunity to raise them, but there is a twinge of sadness to experience all the “firsts” for the last time, to pack up my maternity clothes to pass them on, and to know my days of enjoying pregnancy are over.  Complete comes with both a huge sense of accomplishment, peace, and joy, but also all the questions about the unknown future. 

 

While I don’t know what the future looks like, what joys and heartbreaks parenthood holds for us, I am thankful to know the One who does know.  And I am thankful that He holds that future in the palm of His hands.  While our family may be complete, He has not completed His work with me.  In three particular ways it has just begun…

 

“Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6

I Get it from My Mama

Something I have learned quickly about having a new baby is that everyone asks who you think they look like the most- or people just give you their opinion on who they think the baby looks like the most.  We pick out features and say “oh they get it from…” and often use those features to predict the future of what baby will look like as he or she grows. 

 

As an adult, we often still reflect the physical characteristics of our families- many of us are undeniable- but I find that more and more I look at my personality characteristics and think “I get it from…”

 

Being “that house” the one where there is usually food on, the door is always open for company- the back door of course, friends are always welcome, and we always have your back… I get it from my mama.

Being “that teacher” the one who works late, takes stuff home, loves her students enough to hold them to high standards, and gives them her very best… I get it from my mama.

Being the wife who supports his dreams, love unconditionally, but gives him a dose of reality when he needs it… I get it from my mama. 

Being the mom who prays continually, sings worship music together, helps practice memory verses, and loves to answer their questions about the Bible stories… I get it from my mama.

 

But not only do I get it from my mama, I have been blessed by generations of women who have made me who I am today.  My Granny taught my mama how to be the woman she is today.  She has shown me what infectious joy and laughter can do for a home.  She has shown me what strength really looks like as she tells about the years of raising little ones as the wife a career air force officer who moved frequently and sometimes had to do it on her own while he was deployed.  She is the origin of many of my go-to recipes, and the generous giver of cookies to my (b).  Some of who I am… I get it from my Granny.

Four generations, my Granny, my Mama, myself, and my (lk)

 My Grandma Anne is no longer with us, but she influenced the first 34 years of my life.  She was particular about many things- how the table was set, how a meal was planned for a special occasion, and how to be the grammar police were particulars that rubbed off on me.  She was also a dedicated teacher who believed in holding students to high standards and she showed me the depths that love will go to as she became my Papaw’s caregiver in his final years.  Some of who I am… I get it from my Grandma. 

I was fortunate to inherit my Grandma's college ring.  I don't wear it all the time, just special occasions, but Mother's Day and my own daughter's first time in church felt like a couple of special reasons to put it on this morning.

 And there were some other very special ones too… my Great-Grandma Anderson who taught in a one room school house and with whom I shared a very special bond until her passing when I was in jr high.  “My Alice” was our childcare provider growing up and is why I love to run barefoot, eat sugar cookies, and where I learned to love other people’s children as my own because her actions taught me that family didn’t have to be blood.  All my aunts had only sons- so as their oldest niece I learned to arrange flowers, how to do my make-up, and the value of having some favorite hymns memorized.  I was fortunate to have friends who “momed” before me and showed me all the “real” sides of motherhood as well as told me what to pack or not pack in a hospital bag.  So much of who I am as a woman and a mother… I get it from those mamas.

 

I look at my own kids and think about all they see in the women who they love.  Friends like Miss Angie, Miss Ann, and Miss Lissa who are teaching them that family doesn’t always mean blood.  Aunts who each have special rituals with them (even if the request is most often to bring their uncles along).  Showing up at Granny’s house usually means you will be showered with love and fun just for walking through the door.  Mama K has expectations, but will still fix you meatloaf anytime you ask for it.  Nana runs “the cookie house” and always has sweet treats ready.  But more than that, they are seeing examples of faith, perseverance, and love of family. And I often wonder what they see the most in me.  I often fear they will remember the times I lost it and yelled, the days I couldn’t keep it together and just sat to cry, the disheveled mess our home is often in, or the many ways I have failed them.  But I PRAY they will remember my faith and hope in the Lord, my desire to be better every day, my love for their Daddy, and my joy in being their mom.  I pray some day they will grow up to look at a blessing or two in their life and be able to say… “I get it from my Mama.”

 

Happy Mother’s Day!

Miracles

 Miracles.  They are a word I try not to take lightly, truly an act of God alone, something no one can take credit for or explain away.  On April 19^th, I gave birth to our own little miracle, our last little, (lk).  (I know, I know, my readers expected baby (c)- sorry to disappoint haha!) During my second two pregnancies, I owned one graphic tee that simply stated “I only make miracles.”  We found it to be so true, there is something so wonderous and miraculous about a precious baby- the rare and honored chance to get to be a part of the miracle making process.  But this time, we held this situation a little closer to our hearts, and did not take for granted the reality of the miracle.

 Our third baby was very much wanted, and very much prayed for.  No, we weren’t “trying for a girl” or giving it one more chance (quite honestly, I was desperately praying for a third boy!), we just knew in our hearts there was supposed to be one more “little” in our family.  My word for the year 2020 was purpose, and we knew this baby was a gift from God on purpose.  This was no surprise or “quarantine baby,” it was an answer to prayer.  We were beyond excited to find out in late August that we were going to have baby #3.  However, the stress of the insanity that this school year brought led to some health concerns that landed me in the office of my OB sooner than expected.  He ran several tests, and on Friday, September 4^th, sat (A) and I down in his office and compassionately but honestly told us that we had a big problem.  None of the test results were lining up correctly and he was 99.9% sure we were going to experience a miscarriage in the coming week.  He called the situation a blighted ovum and said there was nothing we could do or could have done to change things.  He was so kind, but honest, and scheduled us to come in 5 days later for another ultrasound to “confirm the loss” and make some medical decisions from there.  We were heartbroken.  We tried to focus on the two little loves we already had, but spent the weekend terribly grieving this baby we wanted so badly, and also looking at the timeline and our ages, and coming to grips that if this baby didn’t happen there would also likely NEVER be a sweet #3.

  In our devastation we didn’t want to make a big deal and so kept the news extremely private. At the time we only told a tiny handful of people, two of which were our best friends in Indiana.  It is amazing to have friends who you can text with your heartbreak and ask them to “call when it is convenient” only to have them immediately pack the car and drive four hours to show up on your doorstep when you desperately needed them the most.  While our kids played downstairs and our husbands talked about the situation outside, I stood with my friend in our kitchen bearing my heart.  I told her that I was at a point where I was not praying for the .01% chance miracle that the dr had given us.  I was just praying for the strength and grace to accept whatever plan he had for us.  I was also praying for the strength to survive our ultrasound day- you see it was scheduled for September 8^th, the 3^rd anniversary of one of the hardest days of our life.  If we took hard news again this year on that date, I wasn’t sure how I could carry on.  This friend had also cried with me on that first September 8^th and she knew exactly where my heart was coming from.  We staggered through the weekend trying to put on a brave face for the sake of our boys who had no idea and to keep up appearances where we were not ready or willing to yet share our story- we hadn’t even told anyone yet that we were expecting, let alone share the turn things had taken. 

 

On Tuesday afternoon, September 8^th we walked painfully into our OB’s practice for an ultrasound we were dreading.  The staff there was wonderful as always and before the tech began she graciously asked if we knew what we were looking for that day.  We acknowledged that we were aware this wasn’t the “fun” kind and we knew we were there to confirm a loss.  She flipped off the lights and got started with the process.  However, in less than a minute her posture changed and she had a look of shock on her face.  In the sweetest voice she said to us, “Uh guys… I have a BABY, with a perfectly healthy heartbeat!”  We could see it too- the little squirms and wiggles of a six week only baby and the obvious swish of a strong heartbeat.  We both began crying.  She quickly left the room to call upstairs for my doctor to come down.  He must have taken the stairs 2 at a time because he was there in just a minute to look at the screen for himself.  He was in total joyful disbelief, and completely flabbergasted told us that he had absolutely no explanation for the turn of events.  At that point the ultrasound tech spoke up and said, “I do! God said this baby was supposed to be!”  As we left, we were quick to share the news with the tiny handful of people who had prayed over us all weekend.  My sweet friend shared with me that while she knew I didn’t have it in me to pray for a miracle- that is exactly what she was doing.  And that she was also praying for the redemption of September 8^th on our family’s heart.  The goodness of God was bigger than just this news, it was evident in the friends He has given us who could intercede for us when our hearts were too heavy to ask for a miracle.  PURPOSE- this baby was coming with a purpose.  

We were overjoyed, but I still found myself waiting with baited breath for the next several weeks.  I was afraid at any moment of that first trimester that something was going to go wrong, or more test results were going to come back with a scary outcome.  I had done my research, our doctor was not at all wrong to give us the original diagnosis that he did, the tests did NOT add up and some of them had been done twice just to double check.  It was nothing short of the goodness of God that I was carrying this baby.  At 13 weeks everything was still coming back with great results, and so we joyfully shared our news that sweet #3 was on the way. 

 

At week 20 we had another scare when an ultrasound showed a cyst on her brain, but by the next ultrasound at week 24 it had miraculously cleared itself never to appear again or leave the slightest evidence that it had once existed.  At week 33 my blood pressure went haywire, I was dehydrated, and the dr stopped me dead in my tracks.  I was terrified we were going to be faced with an early delivery and NICU time, but by the grace of God, focusing on His word for me- STILL, and the help of a lot of people who stepped in to take things off my plate- we quickly got the situation under control and maintained healthy levels until she was full term and our dr decided with us that it was “go time.”

 As I laid on the operating table during my c-section, I couldn’t help but cry as I listened to the healthy screams of our baby girl and heard her Daddy and the nurses calling across the room to me with all her stats updates as they did all the newborn tests and measurements.  My anesthesiologist was standing at my head and seeing my tears asked if everything was ok and if I was feeling ok.  I assured her that nothing was wrong, these were tears of overwhelming joy.  She sweetly brought me a tissue and told me that was wonderful and perfectly understandable. 

While I know our story is NOTHING compared to many I know- stories of the most heroic moms who have gone through much more than us, stories of miracle babies who have survived insurmountable odds- this miracle story is ours.  And for that I will forever be thankful.  The words of one of my favorite worship songs declare “With every breath that I am able, I will sing of the goodness of God.”  Welcome to our crazy, chaotic, wonderful life sweet #3.  May you always remind me of the goodness of God.

 

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” Psalms 139: 13-14

Maturing

 On Easter Sunday, we reached a milestone I wasn’t ever sure we would hit.  (a) sang up front with the kids’ choir at church and did exactly what he was supposed to do.  There was no jumping, flopping, sleeve chewing, nose picking, or pouting.  He actually stood on stage like a respectable human AND sang out to all three songs they had been practicing.  I was so relieved I nearly cried.  This might not seem like such a big deal, but you have to know this kid’s track record.  The very first Christmas we were in Illinois, he flopped off the front step reenacting a scene as if he had been shot and then laid on the floor kicking his foot in the air.  Other times he has swung around playing bumper cars with the other kids, made goofy faces, pulled at his eyes, wadded up and chewed on his sleeve, or stood up front pouting.  But up until this point he has never actually done what he was supposed to do. 

This guy even got himself all dressed and ready by himself for Easter Sunday morning (complete with his own choice of accessories- which he thankfully DIDN'T wear on stage)

 

Over the last few days, we have praised him several times at home for doing the right thing and doing a great job, and one of those times his response hit me in a way that made me realize the truth of the situation.  He said “Yeah, Death was Arrested was hard to learn, I had to practice that one a LOT!” He sounded so grown up- and I realized that was it.  He is growing up and maturing.  The little guy who flopped off the stage like he was shot in an old western wasn’t quite 3 yet.  He was pretty immature to be up there, let alone sing along.  The boy who chewed on his shirt was trying to somewhat comply, but he didn’t want to put in the effort to learn the words to the songs.  But THIS guy- he has finally matured enough to find the combination of acting correctly AND being interested enough to learn the songs and join in the singing like the older kids.  It just took some maturing.

 

I think about other things that just take some maturing- some of my favorite trees that needed a few years before their spring blossoms were the most glorious or other plants that needed some time before they could produce their best fruits.  And I think of my own heart and life.  I still have SO much to learn, but as I look back, I can see places and situations that I would have handled differently, words I might not have said, feelings I might not have wasted time on if I were to face the same situation now because God’s word and life experience are hopefully maturing me. 

 

We have joked that we will be watching baby #3 graduate high school along with people our own age who are there to watch their grandkids graduate, but as I think about who we were 10 years ago or more, I’m so thankful we waited several years to become parents.  While I see absolutely nothing wrong with becoming parents much sooner than we did- In my life, I see how maturity has made me a different mom today than I would have been when I first married at 22- and I’m ok with her.  This mom worries far less than she would have, takes things much more in stride than she would have done, has more patience, sees less need for perfection, relishes little moments, and prays for different things.  And those things came with maturity of life experience and maturity in my faith. 

 

I still have SO much growing to do, and SO many more ways to mature, but as I watch it happen in my little boys, I am reminded that God isn’t done with any of us yet.  As (a) handles things better each day, I pray that I will mature as his mama each day too, so that I can guide him and lead him, and set an example for him to continue maturing too. 

“until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.” Ephesians 4:13

No Foolin'

 Being a teacher on holidays is a LOT of fun.  I love the excitement they feel and how things that seem small to me can bring such joy to children.  One celebration however, that I am always THRILLED to miss is April Fool’s Day.  I mean, I hate to be a “fun sucker” but there are only so many times I can handle being told my slip-on shoes are untied, there is a spider in my hair, or that something is on my shirt.  Every time I look ahead to the calendar and see the first of April falling on a weekend or Spring Break (like this year) I let out a little sigh of relief.  I promise I really do have a sense of humor and enjoy a good joke as much as anyone.  I think the reality is- the humor in our life is funnier to me than anything I could make up.

This guy's sound effects on life are funnier than anything we could make up!

 

On St. Patrick’s Day, (a) had a desperate, I mean tearfully desperate, need to dress like a leprechaun.  (b) thinks stealing your food is the funniest joke on the planet.  The sound effects (b) uses to live out his day to day activities keep us in stitches and his desire to be the funniest guy in the room is quite evident- even at less than 2 years old.  (a) isn’t always trying to be funny, but usually manages to pull it off anyway through his bold, often grown-up, announcements and plans (or by suggesting his mother might be as old as John the Baptist’s mom for having a baby at the “old” age of 37).  Sometimes I even have to try not to laugh at their tears, such as the ones we had this morning when we wouldn’t allow (b) to carry around a BBQ sauce packet as a prized possession.  There’s no foolin’, the laughter in our house is the purely natural, unplanned kind. 

 

I’m also not foolin’ when I say parenting has been the hardest, most beautiful adventure I have ever been on.  In one day’s time, I can experience the entire range of emotions from excitement, to frustration, exhaustion, exhilaration, pride, defeat, embarrassment, and humor.  Most days I marvel at how quickly they are growing, how much they are learning, and how much joy they bring us.  Other days I want to hide and cry at how daunting the job is.  And I realize that while the stages change, those feelings as a parent will be with me until the day I meet my Maker.

 

There’s no foolin’ when I admit I often feel inadequate and unprepared to love and lead them in the ways we need to, and no foolin’ when I realize they are giving me “on the job” training day by day.  No, I don’t need any April Fool’s jokes to keep me on my toes or laughing… I’m a mom- I have some of both every day.  

 

“Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy.  Then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.” Psalms 126:2

He Makes Me Lie Down in Green Pastures

Psalm 23- while I don’t know any hard and fast statistics on it, I would guess it to be one of the most quoted passages of scripture.  I know it is one that I have know since childhood.  I will admit, sometimes for me the downfall of knowing certain scriptures so well is that I don’t always slow down and cling to them, I have a bad habit of letting the ones I know so well become more rote than real.  In the past week however, I have had the opportunity for part of Psalm 23 to become more alive to me than it has before.

 

Last Thursday I was not ready to admit it out loud, but I had reached a breaking point mentally, emotionally, and physically.  I was navigating a large amount of stress at school, doing everything for our boys while my (still totally healthy) husband was quarantined to our basement, and I was completely depleted.  I left a very stressful day at school to go straight to my OB for a routine checkup and ultrasound only to be stopped dead in my tracks.  He was pretty firm- I was dehydrated, the baby’s growth was slowing down, my blood pressure was too high, and he didn’t like the looks of my keytone levels.  I like my dr, he is a straight shooter who is pretty real with me, and he was blunt.  If I didn’t get some things off my plate, baby and I were going to be in trouble.  He ordered another whole work up of labs and tests for the next day and sent me home with now even more on my plate but the directive to get rid of some of the load- NOW.  I made it to the car before I was completely in tears and called (A) with all the updates from my appointment.  I had no idea how I was going to do it, but something had to give.

 

As I laid my head in bed that night, I reached for my devotional where I had been studying the word “STILL.” And exactly as I needed, the lesson focused on “embracing stillness.”  That is not something I have ever been good at.  I am on the go, looking toward my next responsibility, project, or to-do list, I am on the “high strung” side of life most of the time and I am not good at just relaxing and taking care of myself- actually those things are very low on my list of priorities.  I began praying and begging God to help me embrace stillness- it was extremely necessary for myself and our baby.  Over the next 24 hours I was blessed with help, plans for more help, and a clear pathway to finding some much needed rest.  While I felt like I was in a better place by Friday, my labs showed that I still had a ways to go in taking better care of myself and the baby, so Tuesday began the new adventure of twice weekly “non stress tests.”

 

While they had told me what to expect, I was still very nervous.  Nervous that all this meant the baby could come early, worried about all the extra cost involved in this testing, feeling like a failure that I hadn’t had these issues with my other two pregnancies- I was a basket case.  As I sat in the waiting room for my turn to be hooked up to the machines, I opened my Bible app on my phone looking for some peace and the stillness I had been praying so hard to focus on.  As I clicked to the devotion tab my next reading on stillness came from Psalm 23 “He makes me lie down in green pastures.”  That was never a verse that had hit me before, it just seemed to go along with the sheep references in the rest of the chapter.  But this week it took on a whole new perspective.  I’m not one who is easily “made” to do things, I’m often independent to a fault.  But this week I was literally made to lie down, to stop, to rest.  The author of the devotion talked about the green pastures of sitting in his back yard, but I couldn’t help to think of the fields at home on the farm.  Some of the most peaceful times I have ever spent were out in the pasture checking cows, admiring cows, watching my (a) learn to do the same. 

While I usually resist being MADE to do anything, I could immediately see the benefits and blessings that would come with being made to lie down in green pastures.  A chance to reflect, rest, and care for myself and the baby- the peacefulness of green pastures.  Being made to lie in green pastures was a way that God could still my anxious heart enough to give me PEACE, His kind of peace, and His kind of restorative rest that I desperately needed.  Being made to lie down in green pastures wasn't out of force or punishment, it was a chance to bless me, to care for me.

 

While I don’t know how these complications are going to play out, I’m learning to embrace stillness, find blessings in being made to rest in his green pastures, and seek His kind of rest that restores my soul AND my body.  May you also find a green pasture where you can rest your weary soul.

One Year Later

 One year.  My social media “memories” have been reminding me this week that it has been one year since our lives drastically changed.  March 17^th was the first day last year that I went to my classroom but no students were there.  We were sure it was just for a couple weeks and then they would be back.  Then as it became a reality that we wouldn’t be returning, rumors started of restrictions to the fall start of school and I doubted how that could ever be possible.  Before long, everything was changing. 

I snapped this photo on the way to school, EARLY the last morning my students were in-person for the '19-'20 school year.

My personal feelings and opinions on much of it are not important, but the reminders this week have made me reflective.  Ironically, as we pass over the anniversary of last year’s lock down, we are back to juggling a partial one at my house as well.  (A) is currently living in isolation in our basement due to a potential exposure (he feels completely fine and is already ½ way vaccinated- just required to follow the public health guidelines), and I have had some serious emotional meltdowns over the situation.  There are some very important things happening in our lives right now that he is missing, I’m in an extremely stressful time at school right now as we began state testing this week, physically managing both boys by myself at 8 months pregnant is proving extremely hard, and doggone it- my mental health has been taxed heavily.  I don’t tell you these things to throw a pity party, I know it could always be much worse and others are dealing with things far worse- just sharing my “real” struggles because it brought me to this….

 

Last night I laid awake longer than usual working through my feelings and praying about where my heart is.  The last year did still give me some precious blessings of time with my family, but it has stolen much of my passion and left me often just going through the motions of survival mode.  I’m tired of living in survival mode, and I miss my heart begin on fire.  Through tears I opened my daily devotional.  Since my word for 2021 is “STILL,” I have been working through devotions addressing this topic.  Last night’s brought me to a verse in Isaiah that I wasn’t overly familiar with,

“Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show you compassion.  For the Lord is a God of justice.  Blessed are all who wait for him!” Isaiah 30:18

 

The comfort that poured over me was like a warm blanket.  God is STILL holding me in the palm of His hand.  No matter how weary my heart and body feel, He is gracious and compassionate to me.  As I prayed for renewed strength and passion, I felt hope that He has not forgotten me- He is STILL the same God who made this promise to His people thousands of years ago, and it STILL holds true for me today.  And I am holding tight to that promise- as I feed my kiddos pizza more days in a row than I want to admit, try to do all the right things for all my students, and pray for renewed physical strength and a heart on fire.  He is still the same God of Isaiah, He is still the same God of a year ago, and He is STILL sustaining me today.  And no matter what changes around me, I will take heart that those truths will NOT change.

Tell Me About Your Picture

 Over the past year, our (a) has become quite the little artist.  Now, I don’t mean he is going to be the next famous Renaissance painter or any kind of child prodigy- his skills are very equivalent with his age, BUT he loves making art.  Frequently he will choose to sit down with his crayons, colored pencils, and markers to make pictures or cards that he loves to share and give away.   I can already tell that gift giving is one of his love languages, and he is so proud to hand over that special piece of artwork.  Many years ago, in my college class about art for elementary teachers I learned an important piece of advice- don’t ever ask a child “What is this?” but instead ask “Tell me about your picture.”  The phrasing can often make a difference in the confidence they have in their work, and so I try very hard to do this whenever I am handed one of his masterpieces. 

 

As I enjoy these cute gestures, I have come to appreciate his descriptions even more.  Often when I look at them I simply see stick people (who have really big eyes right now), and I can usually find his name or the names of others he knows how to spell.  But when he starts telling me about his picture, a much more vivid story plays out.  And before long, I can usually see many more details and the picture comes to mean more to me.  This week he attended kindergarten round-up (how did THAT happen so quickly!?) and afterwards had to hangout in my classroom for another couple hours while I worked after school.  While I worked on lesson plans and videos for my two remote students, he used a pack of washable markers and some scrap paper to draw me a couple masterpieces.  When I was done working, he presented them to me and we went through our usual ritual of “Ohhh!! I love it! Tell me about your picture!”  He explained each stick person to me- they were each of us in his family, including some aunts, uncles, and a baby cousin (who he said with a giggle “looks kind of like a Lego person in my picture, but that’s ok”).  He went on to show me how he was riding his pony, Snoopy, and he didn’t have the color he wanted for Snoopy, so he just made his mane blue (said with a shrug as if the substitution had been no big deal for him).  He explained that his second picture was the American flag and his little brother was holding it.  Some of these little details I might have caught on my own if given a few minutes, but many of them I would have missed without the explanation (especially the part about his cousin looking like a Lego person). 

It made me think about how many times I just see what something appears to be at first sight, instead of understanding the whole picture or the explanation behind it.  I see the mess that is made without knowing what they were looking for or what game they were playing.  I see the unfinished dinner, but didn’t know about the snack Daddy grabbed them on the way home.  I think of times I am easily frustrated with others or run out of patience, when I don’t know the whole story.  And then there are times when hear the “bigger picture” or find out more details to the story, and my heart is broken by the reality of what I missed. 

 

As I strive to love and lead my littles, as I teach and nurture my students, as I work with and interact with others- may I always try to pause and understand more about the picture.  See more than just the first glance, understand more than my basic assumptions, and care enough to ask “tell me about it.”

 

“For we are God’s masterpiece.  He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.” Ephesians 2:10

Road Trippin'

 There’s nothing like a road trip to keep ya on your toes about life.  Recently, my younger sister and her husband welcomed a sweet baby boy to their home in Kansas.  This aunt couldn’t wait to meet the little cutie and my boys were beyond excited to have a new baby cousin, so I quickly decided a road trip was a must-do.  I realized (A) would not be able to join us since we would be gone over a Sunday, and at 31 weeks pregnant, a 12 hr round trip drive with a 5 and 1 year old might be hairy, so the boys and I were thrilled when my youngest sister, their “Kayda”, agreed to join us (of course she really went because she was dying to meet her newest nephew). 

 

(A) arrived at school on Friday afternoon with a car full of excited travelers to swap me out for his empty vehicle.  Before we even left the parking lot we had both excitement about discovering there were snack bags and devastation because the toy bag had been forgotten.  I had worked through my lunch break that day and the boys had slept through theirs, so we hit up a drive through about 20 minutes down the road for a late afternoon pick-me-up.  As Kayda was looking at the menu deciding what to order (a) piped up loudly from the backseat “Order Kayda a salad!”  At that point, she and I were trying so hard to suppress our laughter that we couldn’t manage to get the words out to order anything.  But I made a mental note that we have a lot of work to do when it comes to learning what to say or not say to build the confidence of the women around you- especially when they are already thin and gorgeous.

 

I hadn’t realized JUST how little traveling we had done in the last year or so until the excitement of a hotel kicked in.  EVERY hotel we passed along the interstate through St. Louis, Kansas City, and all of their suburbs, (a) wanted to know if THAT was our hotel.  No matter how many times we assured him we would let him know when we arrived, he still kept asking.  He has stayed in several, but it has been quite a while and Kayda and I shared a lot of giggles over their hotel excitement.  When we did arrive you would have thought that Hampton Inn was the most luxury hotel on the planet for all the awe and wonder over pushing elevator buttons, counting numbers to find our room, having a fridge and coffeemaker in our room, looking out the third floor windows at the parking lot and businesses across the street, eating hotel breakfast, and swimming in the indoor pool.  Looking at that adventure through the eyes of my little boys was a perspective check for me- things I so easily take for granted were beyond exciting for them.

Hotel breakfast and indoor swimming were BIG highlights of the trip for little guys

We shared a wonderful visit with my sister’s family, and of course the little guy we went to meet is even cuter in person than the pictures we have seen.  The boys were head over heels for him, and it was sweet when we arrived home that despite the excitement over all the hotel things, (a) was quick to tell his daddy that meeting baby (d) was the BEST part of our trip. 

 

The road trip reminded me of a few other things as well- toddlers are the messiest car seat eaters on the planet (go away COVID so we can fast food dine-in again), don’t forget the toy bag, listening to (b) sing to his chicken nuggets is hilarious (and a memory we will have to share to embarrass him as a teenager) always buy the 28 pack of beef sticks instead of the 14, playing I-spy while driving down the road is HARD, taking our Kayda along was the BEST idea ever, and NEVER take for granted one minute of the adventure of a family road trip.   

 

“You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.” Psalms 16:11

Stuck

 Oh winter in the Midwest.  It has been good to us the last few years and things have been quite mild.  The last two weeks that has not been the case.  Last week’s four-ish inches of snow and bitter cold was no fun, but we were still able to get in and out of the driveway at careful speeds for me to access high speed internet for e-learning and attend to dr appointments.  This week’s twelve-ish inches has been a different story.  Clearing a long, gravel driveway into the woods is not very feasible, and the part we have tried to clear up by the garage has a thick layer of ice underneath where last week’s snow was hard packed.  The combination has left us “stuck” in more ways than one.  While I have not ventured out, (A) has had to go to the office the last two days, and both days has found himself stuck in the driveway where I have been called to come man the wheel while he chops and digs at the ice underneath that is causing the problem.  I have felt rather “stuck” as once again I am teaching remotely WITH our sweet boys needing more attention than I have to go in all the directions I am needed (God bless that families that have been doing this for the last 11 months, you are rock stars!)  Stuck is a hard place to be!

 

In the last year, I feel like I have been “stuck” more times than usual.  Stuck at home, stuck in a food rut where I fix the same 5 meals, often “stuck” in my writing, and stuck in a set of circumstances that we can’t control.  Stuck is a hard place to be.  It wears on me mentally and emotionally.  (A) and I have often commented that while I feel like maybe I’m more hormonal this pregnancy, we are honestly quite sure it the much more immense amount of stress I am under this time around.  Due to COVID and snow, our family has been stuck in our home for the greater part of 2021 so far, and I can feel the ridiculous amount of toys and “to do” projects suffocating me.  Stuck wears on my physically too as the weather has made me less active than usual- which is normally an outlet for stress. 

 

But some of the “stuck” has made me giggle too.  (a) has given us some great one-liners throughout all this, especially after he got stuck in the snow the other day (which was well up past his knees) and announced “the snow is bigger than my legs!”  (b) has decided he is tired of being stuck in the high chair and has used the three-meals-a-day-at-home to insist on joining us at a seat around the “big table” instead of in his high chair pulled up beside us.  While we were stuck without power for 5 hours Tuesday morning they found grand adventure in us snuggling up by the fireplace and were completely and hilariously perplexed at the fact they couldn’t turn on the lights or tv and had no understanding of why they couldn’t open the fridge and stand looking for what they wanted to eat.  They weren’t upset by these things, just totally confused.  And their peanut gallery comments while the car has been stuck have made me giggle (though I’m not sure their daddy would agree with their criticisms of his work to get things moving!)

And here is the good news, we won’t be stuck forever.  The forecast for next week should bring on a thaw to get things moving.  I pulled up my recipe app last night and found something new and different for dinner (that was a hit!)  Stuck is a hard place to be, but I’m SO thankful we don’t have to stay there!

 

“Then the Lord said to Moses, “Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to MOVE ON.”” Exodus 14:15