Then What?

Please note: These are factual events. Events are portrayed by real people. No actors were used.

BG: Ok, Mommy, tell me about your day.

Me: Well, it started 37 seconds after I opened my eyes and a small thing dressed in zebra footie pajamas came and laid on me.

BG: Ok, and then what?

Me: And then the zebra pajama thing wanted to watch cartoons so I turned those on, made the crazy zebra chocolate milk and read my Bible while she watched Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

BG: Right. And then what?

Me: Then the crazy zebra decided she was hot and stripped off the pajamas and laid on the couch naked.

BG: And then what?

Me: And then the naked person ran to the front door and opened and closed it several times yelling at the imaginary FedEx man that she was mad he didn't bring her a package.

BG: Haha. Yeah. And then...?

Me: Then she got in trouble.

BG: Oh. Then what?

Me: I suggested we go on a bike ride and the crazy naked person started running through the house yelling "Oh yeah! Oh yeah!"

BG: And then...?

Me: The crazy girl finally got dressed, and we went on a bike ride. We rode to the library and returned books, we rode to a place and had lunch, and then we rode to the park where the crazy girl played for a long time. Then, on the way home she yelled at everyone we passed on the bike trail that they were different colored fairies.

BG: Then what?

Me: Now I'm tired.

BG: Why?

What Do You Remember?

Do you remember that he broke your heart or that God healed it?
Do you remember that she was sick or that she's well?
Do you remember that you went without or that now you have plenty?
Do you remember being tired or when you finally rested?
Do you remember that you were bound or that you were freed?
Do you remember that you messed up or that you're forgiven?
Do you remember being hungry or getting fed?
Do you remember how hard you worked or where you eventually got?
Do you remember being broken or that the pieces were put back together?
Do you remember all the times you failed or the one you succeeded?
Do you remember what it cost or just that you now smile?
Do you remember how you got there or where you are?

There are people who will tell you that the key to peace and joy are to "remember the good times." No offense to those people, but they are liars. Remembering only the good makes you forget what it cost to get there. And as soon as you forget, you start to expect things to be easy. You expect not to hurt, not to need, not to cry.

Peace and joy are found in what you remember. Don't fall into the trap of only remembering the good times. Remember what made you strong. Remember what taught you to stand a little taller. Remember what gave you courage and shaped your spirit. Remember what raised you up. Remember what gave you rest. Remember Who healed and forgave.

Go back to those things. Remember. And smile because if you did it then, you can do it again.

How to Clean Your House

It has come to my attention that some of you don't know how to thoroughly clean your house. It's ok. I'm sure you try, but clearly no one has taught you proper protocol. Good thing for you, I'm here to teach you. No need to thank me. I'm just that kind.

Housecleaning 101

1. Use an assistant. This is paramount. If you get nothing else, get this. It's a must. You are incapable of cleaning a toilet yourself. Just accept it. I don't even know how you got to this stage of life solo.

2. Have lots of Windex. Windex cleans everything. If you don't believe me, just ask your assistant. Most importantly, though, Windex comes in a squirt bottle. This is very important, as assistants live for spraying. Spraying something blue only makes it better.

3. Have backup Windex. When I say assistants love to spray, I mean they LOVE. TO. SPRAY. You're going to need more. Even if the bottle was full when you started. Trust me. Buy 2. (Also...I assume it goes without saying, but for clarification, when I say "Windex," I mean the Target brand.)

4. Vacuum. Even if you have tile, wood or cement floors. You must vacuum. It's less for the gathering of material on the ground and more for the enjoyment of your assistant who will immediately stop what she's doing and scream as loud as she can "because you can't hear it." (Note: You can hear it.)

5. Don't even attempt to clean the toilet bowl. You can handle the exterior. You can even manage to pour in the PineSol. You are not qualified to use the scrubber that goes in the toilet. You might be tempted to work quickly, and as your assistant will demonstrate, it takes at least 15 minutes of watching the water go in circles to ensure cleaning is complete.

6. Know that magic happens. It does. You can't control it. You can't explain it. (Duh, it's magic.) You will put away the princess wand only to find it in the middle of the room again 3 minutes later. You will foolishly put the princess wand away again only to narrowly rescue it from being used to help with toilet bowl cleaning. You will then, for a third (fourth, fifth...) time, put the princess wand away. And find it out again. At some point, you'll acknowledge that it must be magic.

7. Take breaks. Intermittent periods of recess are essential. In addition, certain circumstances necessitate that your assistant take a break. For example, there is the "Tinkerbell" Break where your assistant walks past the television and sees Tinkerbell on, therefore needing to break to watch. There is the "Rediscovered Juice Cup" Break requiring that your assistant take a break to drink from, fill up or play with said cup each time she comes across it. There is also, of course, the infamous "Make a Fort Out of Sheets While Changing the Bed" Break.

8. Re-clean. It only shows your naiveté that you think you are only supposed to clean once. How short-sighted of you. Clearly, you didn't spend all that time to just do it once! Before the supplies are back in the cabinet, you'll have tiny assistant-sized handprints to remove from the sliding glass door. I say again...duh!

Dance Break

Last year I attended a Bible study on Wednesdays. When I felt led to stay home again with BG, the first thing I did was put her on the list to go with me to the Bible study come fall. Knowing how great the kids' program is, I was so excited about the opportunity for her to learn how much God loves her, learn how to sit quietly and talk with Him, learn to love the Bible as much as I do and so much more.

I should have known that she'd be the one teaching us.

I dropped Brynna off at her class this morning and overheard the teacher say, "Maybe we can see some more of your dance moves today." As I walked away, I thought the comment was kind of misplaced. How would they have seen BG's dance moves in a Bible study class? I hurried to my own session and all but forgot about it until we dismissed for small groups. A woman came from across the room, touched my arm and said, "I have to tell you that your little girl melts my heart." She went on to explain that she had volunteered in the toddler class two weeks prior. When the children sat down to sing songs, BG stood up and asked the teacher if she could dance. While they sang "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands," Brynna danced. And they all - kids and adults alike - watched. She said it was the cutest display of freedom she'd ever seen. Brynna was expressing her own joy and it spilled over to everyone else.

Her words have rung in mind all day. How often do you let God's peace flow through you? How often do you feel like dancing (or crying, singing, etc) but suppress the desire? When was the last time you let yourself have a dance break? What stress, worry or strife might it help relieve? How much would it bless someone else if you did?

Go ahead. You don't even have to ask the teacher. Just stand up. And dance...

I Wonder...

I wonder what she'll be like as she grows and if she will still like girly stuff as much as she does now. I wonder if she will retain her flair for the dramatic. I wonder if she'll be as good at gymnastics as it appears she will be. I wonder if she will have lots of buddies or a few lifelong sister-friends. I wonder if she'll ever like more than three foods and what her favorite color will be. I wonder what career she'll choose. I wonder what of our life today will be her childhood memories.

first day of preK 2012 - "I wonder what my friends will think when they know I'm a princess?!"

I wonder if she will be upset or embarrassed that I share stories about her with the world. I wonder if she'll ever understand how much joy and peace her stories bring to people. I wonder if she will comprehend how many times I've heard that those stories changed, uplifted, saved someone.

mini-me

I wonder if she will know how much I love her. I wonder if she will ever grasp the depth of my care for her. I wonder if she will understand that even before she was born, I put her needs above my own. I wonder if she will know that the therapy, the discipline, the battles and the scars were, are and will always be to make her better.

Drama. Over mac & cheese.

I wonder if she knows that no matter what the answer to any of these questions, I'm so proud of who she is, who she will be and that she's mine.

Art project gone terribly wrong!

happy girl

Confessions

Being a mom is harder than anything I've ever done.

I get excited every time the UPS man pulls onto our street. Even if I didn't order anything. You never know. Someone somewhere could love me enough to send me something out of the blue. How exciting would that be?! And when/if that happened, I'd be so glad I stalked the UPS man from my upstairs window and knew it was my door he was coming to even before he rang the bell!

I potty-trained BG at 18 months just so I could stop changing diapers.

You know the "it's-too-quiet" sound that likely means something is wrong? Sometimes I don't go check just because although destruction could be occurring, at least it's quiet.

Sometimes I curse our friend across the street because just as I get excited that the above-mentioned UPS man stopped at our house and maybe this was the day that package showed up out of the blue, it's to deliver his latest Amazon purchase. Ugh. Dream crasher!

Girls night reservation - 6:30.
Time I left to get to a restaurant 10 minutes away - 5:30.

The other moms at ballet class think I'm very busy but I'm just playing Bejeweled on my phone.

No More Weekend

Oh, the weekend. How it used to be such a glorious time. I remember the feeling of anticipation that came at the end of the week. The work week had to pause come Friday afternoon. There was a two-day hiatus on waking up early, getting dressed before noon and eating appropriately sized meals. The sun seemed to shine a little brighter Saturday morning than it did the day before (probably because I was seeing the sun 3 hours later in the day...).

And then...a child.

No longer is the weekend a special time reserved for rest and recuperation. No longer do I get to snack all day or eat breakfast at 2pm. No longer does the sun shine any brighter. Once a short person takes up residence in your house Saturday is the same as Sunday is the same as Monday... They literally define the phrase "no rest for the weary." Because that's what parents are - weary. And all we want is 2 more minutes of sleep. But no. All we need is to open our eyes before someone starts screaming our names. But no. All we wanted was to write a bit about how exhausting it is to chase a toddler but instead said toddler jumped on the bed until she fell off laughing in hysterics and then wanted to go to the park because Heaven-forbid we sit still for even 10 seconds! (That last one may not be everyone. Maybe that was just me.)

It's OK Not To Be OK

I recently learned of a church near Vegas who is known for a slogan. They have it painted on walls, signs and shirts. Not far from the strip, it's become their symbol of the open door the church should always have - no matter what you look like, feel, think or do.

It's ok not to be ok.

How different would each of us be if we really, truly believed that? How would your day look? How would your voice and the words you use sound? What else would you do with all the time in your day usually reserved for just trying to be (or at least look) ok? What would your kids learn about you and themselves? How would your marriage change? How would it affect your view of the world around you?

It's ok not to be ok.

You are a new mom. Your body is only vaguely recognizable as the one you've known for 20+ years and you are awoken every few hours by the most awful sounding siren. Not only does the sound wake you, but it then expects you to feed it, change it, hold it, sing, walk, rock or stand on one foot until it can sleep again - at which point now you're hungry and can't sleep because you need a snack. It's ok not to be ok.

Being a wife is hard. Period. You have to share both your bathroom and your feelings with another being who apparently prior to knowing you did not respect either. You have to love him with he's unlovable and care for him when you need care yourself. It's ok not to be ok.

You are pregnant. Enough said. It's ok not to be ok.

You want to be pregnant but you're not. It's ok not to be ok.

Toddlers are exhausting. Utterly, completely and totally exhausting. No, you don't want to go outside again. No, you would rather not push the swing for the trillionth time. No, you don't want to get out the paint supplies because you just cleaned the kitchen AGAIN. It's ok not to be ok.

You are grieving the loss or pain of a loved one. It hurts. Your world looks different today than it did yesterday. You don't have to go on like it's business as usual because it's not. It's ok not to be ok.

You now have two kids (or three or more...). Two is different than one. You have to learn to change diapers with a toddler hanging from your back. You have to discipline one person while comforting another. Schedule is now a curse word because everyone is on a different one. It's ok not to be ok.

You are depressed. I know, I know, you don't want to call it that. (I didn't either.) You don't want to take the medicine. (I didn't either.) You don't want to admit the "failure." (Which isn't true at all, but we'll wait 'til you get past the medicine part and then we can address all the wrong stuff your head has tried to convince you.) You don't want anyone to know that you don't want to get out of bed. But you don't. And it's ok not to be ok.

You are in over your head. You feel like you might be close to drowning. You are overwhelmed. It's ok not to be ok.

Do you hear me? It's ok. You are ok.

Will you make me a promise and make this your mantra for the next few days? Will you write it on your mirror, put it in your car and hang it on the fridge? It's ok not to be ok. That does't mean it's ok to stay in the place you're in. If you need someone to help, it means it's ok to ask. If you are tired, it means it's ok to let the laundry pile up and eat take-out food while you take a nap. If you are hurting, it means it's not going to hurt forever. It's ok not to be ok.

And it's ok if people know you're not ok. It would make them a little more ok to help you. That's how God designed us - to need each other and to fill needs in each other. It's ok not to be ok. It doesn't mean you failed. It doesn't mean you are a burden. It doesn't mean you don't measure up. It's ok not to be ok.

What America Thinks We Do While Kids Are At School

What I planned to do while Brynna is at school:
1. Make beds and pick up house
2. Complete my lesson for Bible study tomorrow
3. Respond to emails and Facebook messages
4. Do writing research
5. Eat a quiet lunch while maybe even watching something on television that isn't animated
6. Write a blog that would inspire millions and make them laugh
7. Plan date night for Friday with David
8. Finalize plans/make reservations for happy hour with friends on Saturday
9. Put away laundry that's folded but sitting in the hall outside BG's room
10. Walk Miles
11. Pay bills
12. Clean up my office so I can find my desk

What my dad (and most of America) thinks I do while Brynna is at school:
1. Eat bon-bons
2. Watch reality television
3. Get my nails done
4. Go to lunch with friends
5. Eat more bon-bons

What I've actually accomplished while Brynna is at school:
1. Sat silently in a trance petting Miles and enjoying that the house was quiet
2. Cleaned up toys from the backyard that were getting rained on
3. Responded to two messages
4. Completed half of my Bible study
5. Ate lunch that David brought home (yay for uninterrupted adult conversation!)
6. Scrubbed paint off the table where BG did an art project yesterday
7. Wrote this blog (inspiring? maybe not. funny? maybe. honest? completely.)

Maybe Thursday will be more productive. Or maybe not...

Confessions

There's an open container of Rainbow Chip icing in my refrigerator for emergencies (or Tuesdays).

Sometimes I let Brynna play "Mommy" just because I know she'll put me to bed and I'll get to lay down for a moment.

I'd rather cut off my arm (that's me - cutting off my own arm) than sit through story time.

I'm not actually all-knowing, I just make up the answers.

I can think of at least 17 things I'd rather do than play Candy Land for the 477th time.

More than once I've reprimanded BG for saying something she heard me say. (hypocritical much?)

There's a spa attached, so I drop BG at the gym's childcare and get my nails done. I don't even pretend by wearing workout gear anymore.



Confessions, anyone? Sometimes it does the spirit good to get it out in the open. Leave a comment. You can make it anonymous if you have more self-preservation instincts than I. But tell the truth. It's ok; you're not alone. Say what's on your mind. I promise you'll feel better.

Why You Should Want To Be Old

Old: having lived for a long time; showing signs of age
Wisdom you only get from pain
Experience that teaches you how strong you are
Discernment gleaned from a mistake (or two)
Maturity fashioned by time
Growth realized only by looking back
Some things have to be lived to learn

Old: belonging chiefly to the past; former or previous way of doing things 
Manners
Respect for those older than you - simply because they've already been where you are
Proper grammar
Some things are lost but would benefit us all to be remembered

Old: long established or known
Friends who know all your stories
Jeans that fit just right
Shoes that don't go out of style
Some things are only loved more over time

We spend so much time trying to prove we are still young. We spend millions of dollars a year trying to escape getting old. But "old" doesn't have to be evaded. If you allow time to teach you, "old" can be the jar that holds all your memories, lessons and battle scars. Rather than something we avoid, Old can be the goal.

What Happens When You Find a Need and Fill It

Our Friday was nothing like I originally planned. We didn't go to Six Flags (because it was closed. Mom Fail. Let's not rehash it.). We didn't spend the afternoon at the hotel swimming and relaxing. Instead, BG went to gymnastics and then we headed into the city for lunch and an afternoon of fun. David and I were a little out of sync from the time we left for lunch. Have you been there? Nothing is wrong; no one is mad or upset. You're just not quite clicking right. By way of happenstance and slight miscommunication, we ended up on a random street nowhere near where we planned to go. We parked and fed the meter, literally not knowing where we were going. There was a McDonald's nearby so we got BG a happy meal and walked onto the street to find big kid food.

As we headed toward Qdoba, we passed a woman sitting on the sidewalk. I'm not sure what her sign said, but she was holding a little boy about 18 months old. We entered Qdoba and BG asked if she could have a quesadilla. I explained that we got her McDonald's but she asked again. I couldn't get the image of that woman out of my mind, so I left David to finish ordering and paying, and BG and I went back out to the street. In the middle of M Street Northwest, with traffic and pedestrians surrounding us, I explained to Brynna as best I could why the woman was sitting with her little boy. I told her that all kids don't get to choose what they eat; that some kids don't get enough. I asked her if she thought we could share what we had. She looked up at me with a huge smile and said, "Mommy, I want to share my french fries with that little boy!" The thought wasn't sad to her. It didn't make her tear up. The joy of being able to give literally flooded out of her. Although she can sometimes play the shy card when approaching someone new, she walked right down the sidewalk, up to the woman and her son. The little boy, obviously curious about Brynna, started to smile as she approached. Brynna handed her happy meal to the boy, looked at his mom and said, "He can have my french fries."As the little boy began to smile, his mom looked at me with the most sincere gratitude and mouthed "thank you so much." And without thinking, I responded, "No, thank you." As we walked away, I thought to myself that my reply was a bit out of place. I probably should have said, "You're welcome." Or "We hope this helps." But in that moment, all I could think was to thank her - for being in that spot on this day when I had nothing else to do, nowhere else to be but on M St. NW to teach my daughter what it means to find a need and fill it.

As we sat eating our food, I realized about halfway through lunch that the funny out-of-sync feeling was gone. The stress of whether or not we go to an amusement park tomorrow had disappeared. And in it's place was peace.

We ended the day having dinner with some new friends in Baltimore. They are friends of my childhood friend, Jeff, and together they all work with an organization called Kupenda. They raise funds, support schools and build into kids with disabilities in Kenya. And now, past her bedtime, BG is swimming in the hotel pool with her daddy. She doesn't care that the day didn't go as I had it pictured in my head. And neither do I.

I've heard it said many times that the answer to having peace and purpose in life is to find a need and fill it. That's all. And when you fill one need, find another one. My new friends have found a need in Kenya, and they are filling it. Brynna found a need on a sidewalk in DC and filled it. Imagine if we all found a need - just one - every day and filled it. Your day may turn out looking nothing like you planned, but find a need. And fill it.

Mother of the Year Award

So, here's the deal. I know you are all working toward the Mother of the Year Award, but you should throw in the towel. Just give up. Admit defeat. I've won, and there's nothing anyone can do about it.

Or not.

I do a Bible study on Wednesdays, and this year Brynna is attending the kids' class while I do the adult study. The study is in the morning and then we'll grab lunch and head to BG's tennis lesson at 1:30. (Save your comments about a 3 year old playing tennis. Her big sister plays, her dad has been trying to teach her since she could walk...it was as inevitable as gymnastics. And if I don't find some way to extract some of the boundless energy flooding from this child, we are both going to need serious help. I say the more activity the better. Wear her out. Someone. Please.) So yesterday was our first day and the Bible study is at a new location. I wasn't sure about the timing, so I insisted BG dress for tennis in case there wasn't time to change. We loaded up with Bibles, racket, water bottle and princess and hit the road. (What? You don't take a princess with you every time you leave the house? Amateur.) As it turned out, we did have time to come home for lunch, but afterward we loaded up again tennis-bound. We buckled in, talking about how much fun it'd be and how she'd been practicing with Daddy. As she worked on the last part of her car seat buckle (because Heaven forbid I help and it take less than 20 minutes), I started to plug the address into my car's navigation. You can imagine the drop of my stomach as  I looked at my calendar only to discover that TENNIS STARTS NEXT WEEK! The meltdown was so immediate I wondered if she had known all along and was waiting for me to say it. There was crying, wailing, gnashing of teeth. There was a sad little face because all she wanted in the entire world, ever was to go to tennis right then. And of course, her mom broke the #1 Cardinal Do Not Break Mom Rule. I promised something I couldn't deliver.

It took a moment, but I salvaged the day by taking her to play at the mall. (Her choice, I promise. I was fully prepared to take my punishment like a big girl and spend the afternoon pushing a swing for hours on end, but she chose and who was I to argue? It's Nordstrom triple points week!) As we drove to the mall, though, I started to work on my Mother of the Year Award acceptance speech...

After my horrific fail, today was a day much more intentional. And by that, I mean I checked my calendar every 30 minutes to make sure I wasn't forgetting something or mixing up my days. When David got home, we all started getting excited for our family outing tomorrow. For a month, we've been tossing around the idea of going to Six Flags while the weather is nice. We are meeting friends in Baltimore for dinner tomorrow, so it made perfect sense to combine the two into a Family Friday. As we put Brynna to bed, it was the perfect bribe - sleep in your own bed because when you wake up we are going to ride rides! (Oh, don't look offended. You know you bribe, too.) When David walked in from telling BG goodnight, he found me in our bedroom staring blankly at my computer. What did the screen say? SIX FLAGS IS CLOSED TOMORROW. AND SATURDAY! Yep, that's right. I did it again.

So I've spent the last hour and a half figuring out what we are going to do since David took a day off work, we have a non-refundable hotel room booked in Baltimore and NOWHERE TO GO!

I say again, give up now. Mother of the Year goes to me. Hands down. No more entries needed. I've won.

Or not.

Corn and Ice Cream

As we neared the end of dinner tonight, I praised Brynna for eating well. If you've spent more than 5 minutes with BG, you know this is a feat worth congratulating. How she runs with more energy than most people while simultaneously eating less than most parrots, I'm not sure. But eating has always been...an experience. She had basically cleaned her plate, and just need to eat the last two bites of corn. David turned to BG and said excitedly, "After you finish, guess what we're going to do?!" Of course, as any 3 year old would, she immediately got excited, not bothering to hear the explanation. As a special little outing, David's plan was to give her a bath and then take her for ice cream. He's been gone the past two nights, so it was a special outing just for them. Cute, Daddy derived plan. Unfortunately, not pre-approved by Mom. I said they could do ice cream but it needed to be before bath so as not to disrupt the established routine. Upon my interruption, Brynna burst into the most dramatic, fake tears you can imagine, crying "but I wanted ice cream!"

David tried to calm her down to explain that she just needed to eat the corn and they'd go for ice cream. She cried, "I don't want corn instead of ice cream." He explained again that she could have the ice cream - he wanted to get ice cream with her - after she ate the corn. She sniffled a little less and said, "But Mommy said no." David gently told her that I didn't say no; I said they needed to do it in a different order because that's what was best for her. Finally starting to understand, she asked, "So I just need to eat my corn and then we can go get ice cream?"

After eating the corn, Brynna happily ran to put shoes on, and David looked at me with a little smile. He said, "This is how God feels about us. " And he's right. We say, "I don't want the pain; I don't want to do the work," never really seeing the big picture of what else is going on. We cry that He's mean or He's left us before we understand that if we let Him, He's doing things in the order that's best for us. God wants to give us ice cream! He is a doting daddy who just wants to shower His kids with love. So next time you find yourself whining to God (don't pretend; we're all guilty), remember - God wants you to eat your corn not because He thinks it's fun to torture you but because as soon as you're done, He's taking you for ice cream!

Stuff I Don't Understand: Part 2

Excessive Bumper Stickers. I get that you are opposed to animal cruelty, you like Metallica, you don't like Ford (although I'm not sure why you want to urinate about it), your boss is a Jewish carpenter, you cheer for Virginia Tech and you support your troops. Unfortunately, as I am forced to sit behind you at the stop light, I feel like you are screaming at me. Tone it down. You can like/dislike what you will. You don't have to ruin a perfectly good automobile over it.

Caffeine-free soda. What's the point?

How Brynna can have this much energy. Seriously. Is she doing crack when my head is turned? Did someone spike her sippy cup?

"I have children" stickers. This includes but is not limited to "Baby On Board," children's names on footballs, soccer balls, pom pons, etc. and the little stick-figure families that span the back window. From a 60 second traffic light, I now know your daughter is named Heather, plays soccer has two older brothers and goes to XYZ Elementary School. How is that safe? And aside from the morbid possibility of kidnapping thoughts, why is it necessary?

Why hymns must be sung in an unreachable soprano octave

Church advertisements on Christian radio stations

People who cry at the sight of a celebrity

Facebook profile pictures of people other than you. You know, since it's supposed to be a profile. Of you.

Please note: These are intended for humorous use only and should not cause offense. If you currently have a bumper sticker, advertise on Christian radio or have a picture of your kid as your profile picture, feel free to carry on with your regularly scheduled life.

Dear Brynna,

I am not confused about what you want. I hear you crying "I want Mommy" over and over and OVER. I have heard it for the past 45 minutes. My lack of response is not the result of your lack of asking. I'm not deaf nor am I sitting here thinking "When she gets to the 1,000th time. THEN I'll know she's serious." I am aware that you don't want to sleep in your bed. I understand that you want me to sit in your room or let you come in mine.

Yes, I closed my bedroom door. There is someone screaming across the hall, and if I am forced to fold this load of laundry, I'd prefer to do it in relative peace. I also hear you walking around in the hall outside my door. I appreciate that you're just smart (or scared) enough not to open my door. In fact, it is a source of pride. Sorry to burst your bubble. That one back-fired on you.

I am aware that you are prepared to scream until your voice gives out (which by the sound of it, we are nearing shortly). You should know I am prepared to wait that long as well. At least at that point I can turn my movie back on. (Right now, unfortunately, I can't hear it over the screaming.)

You can't understand now - and clearly don't agree - but this is best for you. I love you more than words can express which is why I will suffer with you if it means you are stronger, smarter, more confident and independent. I am building the character of the woman you will become. That's no small task, so in this battle of wills, mine will always win. I'm a mom. It's my job.

Goodnight, Little Bear.

Love,
Mama

Only One

As I checked out at the grocery store today, Brynna yelled at passers-by in a language all her own. This elicited both smiles at the cute little girl, frowns at the child yelling what could be obscenities but no one knew because it was a made up language and general confusion. I quietly said, “BG, please stop. Not only is it disrespectful, but my head is about to explode.” The cashier laughed and said, “Is she your only one?” As per usual at that question, I smiled and said yes. For the record, here’s what I said in my head…

Is she the only person who wakes me up in the middle of the night by creepily crawling into my room and tapping on my forehead?

Is she the only person who lost my keys on a random bookshelf at the library today while playing “Sneaky Spy?”

Is she the only person who found a stuffed elephant at the library and used his trunk as a sword to fight bad guys while other children sat quietly on their mother’s laps and read cute stories about bunnies and roses?

Is she the only person who swung on the handle of the shopping cart at Home Depot like a monkey at the zoo?

Is she the only person who climbed into the windowsill at lunch and announced that she'd be eating “in her tower?”

Is she the only person who insisted on driving the shopping cart shaped like a car at the grocery store, requiring me to push something the size of a Cadillac through the aisles?

Is she the only person that while driving the aforementioned shopping “car” shouted throughout the produce section, "Watch out. Out of the way. I'm coming through!"?

Is she the only person that yelled in the frozen food aisle, “Mom, can I Puh-Leeeease take my skirt off now?”

Is she the only person who pulled items off the shelf and tried to scan them with the gun, requiring that I always have one eye on her so as not to pay an additional $75 in groceries that we don’t need and didn’t actually purchase?

Is she the only person who laid perpendicular across the shopping “car” kicking and screaming, “I want a Barbie!”?

No, Mr. Grocery Man, I don’t have 4 other kids. Yes, she is my “only one.” And she’s plenty, thank you very much.

Convinced: Part 1

I heard a sermon recently that stuck with me. The speaker described a guy named Andy who is convinced that God is his provider. She told numerous stories of how Andy, his wife and 4 kids have found themselves in a place of financial need and in one way or another God provided. At the end of her stories about Andy she said, "You may be able to sway him in another area, but when it comes to whether or not God is his sole provider, you can't shake him. He is CONVINCED in here (his head), here (his heart) and down here (his gut)."

I struggle with a lot of stuff. I doubt myself. I question my abilities and decisions. I know He promised it, but I wonder if He can really use the pieces of me to create something more beautiful than I can imagine. I know He's our comforter but sometimes I keep Him at arm's distance. I believe in His love but it overwhelms me. I marvel at His ability to create the universe but I struggle to let Him lead my sometimes silly self. But I realized today why that sermon stuck with me. I have an "Andy spot." I have one area in which I am CONVINCED.  When it comes to this, you can't shake me. I know that I know that God is Healer.

How do I know?

I dropped the phone when they told me he had a heart attack. I smiled through tears when they said the only way he was alive was because he was at the hospital (the last place on earth he'd ever choose to be) when it happened. I held his hand and walked that country road for months, helping him get stronger after a 7-way bypass. I learned that you don't have to know what you're doing to ask God for help. I learned He doesn't need me to be eloquent. He needs me to acknowledge I need Him. When I watch my dad throw my daughter in the pool, I'm CONVINCED.


I laid in a hospital bed and rubbed the radiation burn on her little back. I held her while she cried and hurt. I held her mama while she did the same. I learned to pray in ways I didn't know before. I learned that while God never, ever wants us to hurt, He will use even the imperfect parts of our situation for good. My niece is not only a cancer survivor, but people who meet her now struggle to accept that she was ever sick. Every time I watch her run and swim and play, I'm CONVINCED.

I sat in that delivery room in stunned silence after they took her to the NICU. I sobbed the night they said she was too sick for us to visit. I felt an emptiness I had never known when I drove home from the hospital without her. I learned to trust even when I can't see the hand to hold on to. I learned that faith is a battle scar proudly earned. When my little girl reminds me she's a big girl, when she runs with limitless amounts of energy, I'm CONVINCED.











I held her tiny hand when it was too small to wrap about my pinky. I helped wrap her little body in plastic so she wouldn't get too cold. I put together her crib that for months she couldn't come home to sleep in. I learned a kind of faith you can't teach without going through something. I learned that believing is not about receiving. It's about believing - in the One able to be believed. My goddaughter is a healthy two year old with not one complication from being born at 26 weeks. Every time I see her sweet smile, I'm CONVINCED.

Today, you may sway me on a few things, but of one thing, I am CONVINCED. God is a healer. I've seen Him do it too many times.

I talked with her via Facebook and email when she became Taylor's "Auburn mom." A little piece of me was jealous that when Taylor had a bad day, she called me but Summer got to hug her. I thanked God daily for the love, support, protection and guidance her family provided the daughter of my heart. When they found cancer and chemo started, I was jealous again that she rocked those wigs like a pop star! I've learned that it doesn't matter what I see, God is bigger. As Summer now recovers from two surgeries in a week, I'm CONVINCED. And I'm just waiting...

I prayed with her through in vitro and a dozen procedures. I walked the road with her to the decision to adopt. I threw a party when that baby boy was born and went home with two people who love him more than he'll ever comprehend. I rejoiced with her when a year later, she got pregnant. We talked it through when last week that baby girl was diagnosed with Trisomy 18. I've learned that God can do what we can't see. I've learned that sometimes He waits so that when He steps in, we can't wonder who did it. There's no option but to be CONVINCED. So I'm just waiting...

I cried when I discovered how her abortion affected her life for years to follow. I traveled from the passenger seat as she navigated the waters of being single into her mid-30's. I stood by her when she married a man who loves God and my Janay. My heart broke when she lost the baby she carried for 3 months. My heart hurts as I now hold her hand (long distance) as she does everything in her power but has yet to fill the desire of her heart for motherhood. I've learned, though, that He has a purpose for every breath we take - even the ones that hurt, and I'm CONVINCED. So I'm just waiting...

Last weekend I watched a man tightrope walk across two buildings at Niagra Falls. At 600 ft. in the air, I realized that some things you have to see to believe. I've seen, I believe and of this, I'm CONVINCED. God is Healer. In here (my head), here (my heart) and down here (my gut), I know it because I've seen it. I'm CONVINCED and I'm just waiting...for the the next story to add to my list.