Its all how you look at it...

For the past several months, I've wanted new furniture. I feel like there are parts of the house we never use because we don't have anything in the room. What you must understand is that I do not live in a house where furniture is purchased lightly. (Or where anything is purchased lightly.) So when I say months, I mean MONTHS. I am married to a man who has a calculator and is not afraid to use it. (Reason #278 I love him.) After saving and budgeting, I got the green light last week that we can get a few new items. Yes! I love a shopping trip! Before I went on a spending spree, though, I had the presence of mind to invite my interior design friend over. I expected her to begin giving me a list of what I needed to buy. I had my pencil and paper ready. To my surprise, we started rearranging first. We moved the dining table to the den, the office desk to the dining room...it was chaotic but really exciting. At the end of the day, I had an idea of what to buy but was no longer rushing out to the store. Instead, I have found a new love for what I already have. The space wasn't unusable because we didn't have stuff. I just had to rearrange to see it differently.

So after spending most of the day moving furniture in this new-found love of my existing things, I can't sleep. I'm teaching at FIG tomorrow (Flavour Influence Groups), so I got up to prepare. The lesson is on giving hope, and I plan to talk about the winter season my family endured the past year. You see, my niece got the cancer. She's 3 now, but she was barely 2 when diagnosed. It's hard enough to respond when someone you love is sick and hurting. When it's a baby, it breaks everything inside of you. Part of what I'll share tomorrow came from the website where Zoe's progress was journaled each day. I have spent the past hour reading the journals that, at the time, we lived minute-by-minute. This day, she had a good day and got to ride in a wagon with Papa. The next day, she was so sick they had to feed her through tubes. The day after that, her counts were too low to register and she weighed almost the same as my 6-month-old. On those days, as they happened, all we saw were those results. On this side, as I'm reading, I'm smiling. I know that day wasn't the end. I know there's no evidence of disease in her body. I know cancer was necessary for Healing to happen. I know fighting Zoe's cancer made my sister stronger than she knew she was. I know supporting them made the rest of us wiser.

Sometimes you don't need more stuff. You don't need more anything. You just need to rearrange, see from a different side. It's all how you look at it...

Confessions of a Stage Mom

This fall, Brynna and I were photographed for a calendar. Flavour, our women's ministry at Fellowship Church, put together a calendar to advertise the Spring series about seasons of life. During the photo shoot, a woman there doing makeup approached me about Brynna doing child modeling. One thing led to another, and to my shock, it happened. My child was signed to a modeling agency in Dallas. She had her first photo shoot a few weeks ago, and today we traveled an hour away for her to shoot a commercial.

Here's the deal. I never imagined this. I kind of thought the whole thing was laughable at first. Even now, I find it hard to tell people. For some reason, I feel embarrassed. I guess I don't want them to assume I parade my kid around in glitter and high heels. So to say the least, I'm the farthest thing from a crazy stage mom...or so I thought.

Today's shoot was not ideal. We arrived early, but Brynna's call time was 1:30pm. Translation: NAP TIME. BG spent about 30 minutes smiling, playing with other kids, dancing, waving and doing her general attention-appealing routine. About the time she would be going down for a nap at home, a stranger came and took her away. Needless to say, she was less than thrilled. Brynna tends to have a flair for the dramatic, so she immediately went into high gear. She was determined to convince anyone in a 10 mile radius that bamboo was being shot under her fingernails. She screamed, kicked, made sounds like she might throw up her cheerios and screamed some more. They tried several tactics but were unsuccessful at calming her.

In the world of child acting, this is not a big deal. It happens everyday. It just means Brynna won't be used for this shoot, but they'll call her for another one another day, and the world keeps turning. In the world of Regina, it was cause for a call to both husband and sister and almost a need for a tissue. (Almost. Don't get crazy.) I was just not ok. I don't want to have the kid who can't be out of her mom's presence. I had a whole meltdown, trying to determine where in the last 10 months I went wrong. I wasn't going to the REALLY crazy place of being a bad mom, but I was definitely on the road to crazy. I wondered if my staying at home is not best for her. Does she need more time apart from me? Have I been so strict with her napping schedule that she can't function from the hours of 2-4pm? Then I began mentally sizing her up to the other kids at the shoot. One girl was walking at 8 months. One boy was perfectly happy being passed from photographer to production assistant, never once needing Mom. I drew the only conclusion I saw...I've failed her.

Ok, so that wasn't the only conclusion to draw, but it was the one I went with first. After thanking my family for not thinking ill of me, I did what I should have done in the beginning. I stopped. And took a breath. Stage mom, working mom, stay--at-home mom, we all have the same desires for our kids. We want them to be the best they can be. We want them to thrive and grow, to love and live fully. This is one of many days I'll question myself as a parent, I'm sure. But what I know for next time is this...Our days together will not be perfect, but Brynna will always be loved. I could care less how old she is when she walks or if she is in a commercial. I care that she sees Love lived out. If that happens, we had a good day. And that's alright by me.

Can you wear white?

Today was White Day at Brynna's school. We got an email from the preschool director and everything. All the kids were asked to wear white, and the older kids were learning about popcorn in their lessons. I immediately had a flashback to a dozen Homecoming weeks in jr. high and high school where I traipsed off to school with mismatched clothes, pajamas or worse. Then - even scarier - I had a flashFORWARD. I envisioned watching a 15-year-old Brynna walk out the door in bell bottoms dressed for 70's day. I will love that day when I get to help BG dress up. And I love this day, too. So while she's only 10 months old, I figured we'd throw caution to the wind and go big. Afterall, if you're gonna go - go big or don't go.

The only white thing I could find in her closet was a romper with shorts and short-sleeves. So we did the romper with a long-sleeved shirt underneath and white tights. Not forgetting the most important piece of all, we added white tennis shoes. She may have been the cutest thing ever. We got to school and another little girl was already in class - dressed head to toe in a pink leopard jump suit. Guess her mom didn't get nostalgic. So off I went to take on the day, and off Brynna went to turn those white tights brown.

I'm not sure if you remember (or have met me) but I tend to make up competitions that don't exist. So of course, I needed to see who won White Day. I walked in to school ready to size up the kids as they left to see who might possibly have gotten close to wearing as much white as BG. To my disappointment, NO ONE WAS WEARING WHITE! Everyone looked totally normal.

I'm not sure if they just didn't participate or what happened, but it may have been the funniest thing ever. Good thing it wasn't Dress Like Your Favorite Animal Day. Poor Brynna would have been the only kid at preschool dressed as a bear!

Pull the trigger!

One of my favorite movie scenes is in "Shooter". Yeah, you know the one. Mark Wahlberg. It's not actually about Marky Mark, although we all know we could think of few that include him. There is a scene where the girl in the film is hiding and the men hunting Mark Wahlberg's character are prowling through her house. It's the classic scene - big scary men, scared little girl. They are moving quietly closer to her. She is huddled behind a door about to pee her pants. But just when you think she's going to freeze and scream like a girl, this chick shoots the guy with a shotgun. (Sorry if that ruined it for anyone.) I cheered the first time I saw it. I literally shouted, "That was awesome!" In my head, she's me. In my head, I'm her. In my head, I can outrun, out-smart, out-shoot and out-fight the bad guys.

Unfortunately, in real life, I run slow and can't see well. And painful as it is to say...I fear I might scream like a girl. I don't want to be that girl. I want to be the chick with the shotgun. Right now, though, I'm huddled behind the door about to pee my pants and I have yet to pull the trigger.

You see, I have a dream that I don't really tell people. It's one of those things that I keep to myself - not because it's huge or scary but because if I don't share it, there's no chance of it getting trashed by others' negativity or my personal failure. Unfortunately for me, though, it won't come true, either. About 6 months ago, I felt a new wave of fear come over me. I really felt like God was calling me to act. To do it. Pull the trigger. Quite hiding behind the door. But I'm paralyzed. Like all those movies before, I'm just standing here screaming like a girl.

Then, over the recent holiday break, I journaled and prayed about how to make this dream happen. I felt strongly that God was pushing me to share my dream on my blog - to write about my progress so you can keep me accountable. I figured I could do that since I'm pretty sure about 5 people read my blog and you've all promised to love me even if I lose all my limbs and can't speak. But then I remembered that I linked my blog to Facebook. And for the life of me, I can't exactly remember how to unlink it. So if I share this dream, it won't just be 5 people who love me no matter what. It will be hundreds of people. Some of them I barely know. Some of them I know well. Yep, that's me. Still here. Still about to pee my pants.

But here's the deal. While some of us can pull the trigger immediately and some of us take longer, I think there's a little bad a** in every girl. So here goes. I'm pulling the trigger.

I'm Grateful

When I was in middle school, my friends and I made up a game. We'd walk up to friends, teachers, strangers at the mall...and ask them to tell us one thing for which they are grateful. We usually played it on a day that we were upset. For whatever trivial Jr. high reason, we'd had a bad day, so we would declare it "I'm Grateful Day" and play our game to feel better. In the meantime, we often made a lot of other people feel better, too. This week marks three large milestones, and I think it's time for a Grateful Day. Here's mine...what are you grateful for?

It is Christmas - the day we set aside to honor the decision God made to save us. He didn't have to, but he chose to send His Son to become human. He came for the sole reason of saving my messed up, reckless, undeserving life. He chose to come even though He knew He'd die. I'm so grateful He did. I'm so grateful He didn't take the easy way out as I often do. I'm grateful He stopped at nothing to save me. I'm grateful He lets me live the amazing life I do.

I'm a mom - 9 months ago I wasn't. I'm grateful my house is filled with the sounds of someone learning and discovering something new each day (even when what she's discovering is the dishwasher and she's trying to crawl in). I'm grateful that on the hardest days, I will never go without smiling. God didn't have to bless me with the ability to have a child. I'm so grateful He did.

Zoe is cancer free. Exactly one year ago, my family began the hardest journey we've faced to date. In a matter of days, my niece went from a normal, happy 2-year-old to one unable to walk. On December 21st, doctors found a tumor on her spine and operated to remove what they could. We later learned Zoe's tumor was cancerous and in January of this year, she began a treatment plan of chemotherapy and proton radiation. Today, doctors call her a NED - she has No Evidence of Disease. Today, my sister is aware of a strength she didn't know she had before. Today, my family is closer than ever. Today, I don't pray because it sounds nice; I pray because I know firsthand that we couldn't have lived without Him. Today, my heart feels a little too full...I'm so GRATEFUL.

listening

Brynna is convinced I can't hear her. She can't use words yet, but about 13 times a day she has something so important to tell me that it overtakes her. She babbles loudly, she bangs on her drum (thanks, Aunt Vikki for the wonderful Christmas present), she grabs my face so I am looking at her, and at times, she even attempts to hit me. Whatever is on her mind requires my undivided attention. What Brynna doesn't understand is that I can hear her just fine. I'm listening even when she doesn't know it. When she's sleeping...I'm listening. When she's playing in another room and it gets a bit too quite...I'm listening. I don't always give her whining, crying or fussing the attention she prefers, but it does not change the fact that I hear her.

I had 3 separate conversations this week with girls convinced that God isn't listening to them. They talk and talk, they yell at Him, they act out in rebellion, all the while convinced that He doesn't hear them. How many times a day does God look down at you or me with the same face I give my 9 month old? It doesn't change His love for us, but He's probably a little tired. Just because He doesn't respond to your whining or rebellion doesn't mean He doesn't hear you. He hears you, baby girl. He's listening.

The question is: are you? When was the last time you stopped to listen to what He has to say? When did you last pick up His Word and read it just to know His ways? Brynna is 9 months old. She's concerned only with herself. She can't grasp yet that I have more to give her than she can see or imagine. You aren't 9 months old, but are you acting like it?

Stop banging on your toy drum. Stop yelling. Stop talking. Listen. And you might just find that He's been listening all along...

Ode to Beth

On Monday, Brynna was teething so I missed my last class for the semester at the Y. I can't say I was sad. I never want to leave something incomplete but after the masses of food I ate last week, I can't honestly say I was looking forward to the torture Beth had in store for us. (She laughed last time at the thought of us working out after Thanksgiving. The kind of laugh that isn't really funny but more scary.) Never-the-less Beth has become a common theme this fall, so I decided she needed some recognition.

Ode to Beth
I used your name as a curse word a few times,
Like every time I sprinted to the gym's black line.
Come Sunday night, I was again a child,
A few Mondays I wondered if I could hide.
I came to hate the rigor you required,
I about dropped my kid, my legs were so tired.

But I now know the name of the muscles to hate
When they scream in pain and are sore and ache.
I can say I've pushed through when I wanted a break,
And I got my tail kicked by a paper plate.

Even though it was hard, I must admit...
All my butt needed was a Beth-sized kick.

Note - I'm not kidding about those paper plates. I almost died. But it worked. If you need a good ab workout, just let me know. I'll share a Beth secret with you. :o)