Adela and I spent thirty minutes pretending to take a nap. This involved lots of giggling, fake snoring, and whispering to each other to go to sleep. I loved watching her little nose wrinkle with her giggles. She is such a child. Is is weird that I forget that? I look at her and I see her future. I look at her and I see the woman I hope she will become. I see the learning that must take place, the training up the road, the hard work of parenting. But today, as we laughed beneath a fuzzy blue blanket, my heart was full of joy because she was nothing more than a child. Yikes, Lora! Just like everything else, you are only given whatever today holds. Not a drop more. And of course it is the same with your children. I have only the child that is mine today, not the grown-daughter of a distant tomorrow. Am I trusting God with my child's future? Or am I robbing joy from parenting my sweet, innocent, chocolate-faced preschooler? Am I trusting God to equip me enough to parent this child now so that the woman she will be come will be ready to face the world? When "nap-time" was finished, Adela bounced to our box of learning activities. She grinned at me. "School time, Mama." And, as Micaela snoozed in her bedroom upstairs, Adela and I read books, pretended to be different animals, and practiced holding crayons and pencils correctly. She rainbow-colored four hens and wrote out the number 4 with wobbly lines. And I told myself not to fret. She was happy. She was learning. She is, right now, only my child of today. And Lord knows that I love her. God, thank you for pressing this truth upon my heart. It was far too much to try to keep hold of my little girls' future. I'll let you have that. Today I hold a giggling four year-old in my arms. And that is the joy of my heart. You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.
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I had a deep flaw and as the days went on I could see it shining through every corner of my life. It was shameful and it trapped me. I had no idea how to shake it off. I was addicted to the approval of others, of everyone, of anyone and it was an addiction coming in ahead of my love for my God. I hated it. The addiction had started when I was very young and grew slowly. The only thing I could think to be thankful of was that I had become aware of my unhealthy condition and perhaps with God's help, I could battle it away. Last year, I was deep in the fight when I attended a Christian writers conference. It was a huge leap forward for me to be there. I felt awkward and unsure of myself. Hesitantly I wondered if I even fit in there among dozens of other writers and ministry leaders. Being out of my element made it even harder to focus my attention on God's plans instead of my own desire to be approved of by others. That is when I met Linette Crelly. Linette came and sat by me the first day because there was an empty seat at my table. I couldn't believe she was a grandmother. She was so young at heart and beautiful. I thought to myself that I would love to be like that, so joyful and full of God's spirit. And, I knew that I needed to truly battle my addiction to people-approval if I had a chance. And, guess what the little girl in me prayed? "God, I wish I had a bracelet, just something simple, that would remind me that Your love is enough. That Your love is sufficient." In my mind that would do it, a reminder on my wrist that I already had all I needed. It was the last few hours of the conference. We all sat down around tables to listen to the key-note speaker and enjoy a banquet. We joined in prayer at the end of the meal and I felt someone slip something over my hand. I looked down to see that Linette had placed a silver bracelet with little stone hearts around my wrist. With tears in her eyes she said, "I just wanted to give this to you." A sob triggered through my chest. God had answered me. His love was more than sufficient, it had even overflowed into the heart of my new Christian sister to make sure I received a bracelet. And with it I realized with wide eyes that my family was so much bigger than that of the ties of blood and man-made-laws. God has place around me His children. My sisters and brothers in faith. Without the pain of childbirth, the fun of weddings, or the paperwork of adoption, my family keeps growing. God refuses that I ever feel alone and He keeps bringing to me new Christian sisters and brothers to love and be loved by. Isn't that amazing? But it made it somewhat hard to leave the Christian writers conference this weekend. Some of my new family I won't get to see for a year or even more and they have become very dear to me. I am new to these sort of relationships. Honestly, I never thought of how strong a faith-based connect is until I met my sister, Linette, last year. The way she touched my heart made me realize how closed-up I had become to letting others into my life. Is your family growing? Sometimes this is hard for we Christians. Our lives are busy and our hearts are already full. To make room for new loved ones because of a shared faith seems unnecessary or unreasonable. Oh, but it so very worth it. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.
Last year, hours before Winter Storm Goliath hit, our home caught on fire. Yep. Sure did. But before my loved ones start to worry, I just want to reassure you...it wasn't that bad. Fire is a funny thing. It can be so helpful, so comfortable. We like a fireplace. We like the way the wood crackles as it burns. We love the glow of it as it warms the house.
But when there were live flames licking at the rafters last December, I can tell you no warm and fuzzy feelings entered my mind. It was my first 911 call ever. And it was so hard not to cry in front of the wide eyes of my daughters and nephew as we waited for the fire truck and watched my husband battle the fire with the garden hose.
I can tell you, too, that I was angry at first. I had plans for the day. I had supper prepped and it was nap time for the kids. A huge snowstorm was on the way. I wanted to snuggle down in my own home as the snowflakes began to fall. But God had other plans and He used a fire to smoke us out.
We are glad he did. It turns out that because the little electrical fire started in the middle of the day, before the snow hit, while we were all awake, with the wind at the right angle to keep the flames from growing, the House volunteer fire department on the way, and my husband home to keep it from spreading--well, the perfect timing of it all saved the house and our lives. And the days spent snuggled in at my dad's house during during winter storm Goliath was fun and memory-building. Fire is a beautiful thing. I think fire has meaning for those of us who long to grow, who long to change. Fire can burn away the things we cling to. Fire can demolish old habits. Fire can make room for something new, something better, something we give over to God and let him show us His amazing will for our lives. Fire also warms us. It moves us. It bites and blisters. We can all use that kind of discipline, I look over my life and wonder what I could throw into the flames. Selfish attitudes? My need to snack when I'm anxious? My refusal to slow down and give God five minutes when my day is hectic? There are a lot of things I wouldn't mind tossing into the furnace. But it is rather hard, isn't it? Some of our habits are our anchors. Some of our attitudes we feel belong to our personality and are perhaps not available for burning. Fire is scary. Yet what do we sacrifice by holding on? We already know what life is like with our current conditions. And we know there is better. We just need to find it. We need to make room for God to do His good work in our lives. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.
So, tell me. What are you going to throw into the flames?
I know with deep shame the cracks that fall into place with who I am, how I love, and how I serve others. And perhaps that is why, when people tell me they are amazed at my dedication to mothering my girls, especially little Micaela who needs so much, I feel confused. I look at the day spent, the hair-breaths I was from losing my cool with all the little things, the way my heart rebelled against the constant demands, and the way my mind kept trying to slip away into a daydream so I could forget it all for a moment.
The honest truth is that what my girls need from me and what my husband deserves are far beyond what I am capable of. If I wasn't doing this with Jesus, I wouldn't be doing this at all. Today we started week two of Micaela's weaning from the G-tube. She was cranky and on strike. I kept her hydrated but the 2 & 1/2 meals she got from the machine was significantly less than what she wanted. The mom in me tried to rebel, you truly hate to see your kid hungry when a simple syringe of food would fix it. But, God helped me stick to my guns. God kept my heart from delving into worry and coming up with at hundred excuses to abandon our fight to help Micaela eat on her own. Oh, if I wasn't doing this with Jesus I wouldn't even be attempting such a heart-wounding challenge. Adela's speech has started to explode into our lives. Our quiet little girl is quiet no longer. In her Spanish/English jargon she asks a thousand questions and tells a hundred stories. On and on the dialogue goes. About midday today, with my nerves stained to breaking, I turned to my little girl and started to tell her she needed to be quiet for a little while so I could think. Mid-sentence my voice stilled because I felt that nudge, God's Spirit, telling me to look at my child with my heart instead of my pounding head. I pulled her confused face into a hug and asked her if she would like to read a book. The next half-hour soothed me more than a bubble bath with her little warm body squeezed next to me and her fly-away hair tickling my cheeks as we read story after story. Oh, if I wasn't dong this with Jesus I would never have got those moments. Motherhood is hard. I am too battered and jumbled to do this on my own. A little pressure and I can feel myself breaking. A sudden storm and I know I will be blown away in the wind and hail. God not only ensures that I am anchored and given armor to weather the pressure, He guides my hands and my words and sees that my family and I arrive safely to the end of each day. I would be such a mess without Jesus. Sometimes the lives of my two girls that I have been entrusted with feels like too big a task for me to ever be part of. But, then I watch Micaela learn something new or watch Adela's gentle hands pet the head of a sick lamb, and I remember the wonders of Our God. The God that parted waters, the God that quieted the storm, the God who defeated death--that God, my God, is right beside me. At first it was only a few complaints, but then the list grew. The things that troubled me about being a mother and wife started to weigh on me, to bog me down with anger. The girls got a cold. My household's needs increased with paperwork, therapy, gardening, and family events added to my agenda. My writing stopped. There was nothing left. Not a spare hour that was mine and unclouded with exhaustion. And I was so angry. When would it be my turn? My turn to eat an uninterrupted hot meal? To sleep without having to be woken up countless times to check temperatures and soothe coughs? Would I ever have an hour that was truly mine again? Ever? Two months ago those thoughts pinged through my mind like nasty shrapnel as I tried to steal a moment during nap time to work on a novel. As I reached for my laptop and my collection of notes, God halted me. "No," He said. "No." I gritted my teeth. Really? Even God doesn't want me to do what I love? "No." As if He pointed fingers at the turmoil of my heart, I suddenly became aware of horrifically unhealthy state of my emotions and thoughts. I clenched my fists and closed my eyes. Oh, God, how do I fix this pain? Back in April, a woman I respect told me that God values our work as mothers and will pay us back for this hard work. That there will be a day when we will have the time and energy to pour into our other dreams. I hated hearing those words. She meant them so gracefully. She meant them to encourage me. But all I heard was that I need to wait. Wait to publish a book. Wait to have my own time. Wait to start on my dreams. It was the strangest story to give me hope, but when I fell upon the story of Elisha and the city being raided, I suddenly understood that woman's words about trusting God. In the story, the king of Isreal, and his people were starving inside the city of Samaria which was under siege by the Armeans. When the king is told by a woman that her and her neighbor ate their own child, he is moved to deep anger. He sends a messenger to kill the prophet Elisha. Elisha replies that in a day there will be no more hunger. And it was true. God defeated the entire enemy army by scaring them and making them run away leaving behind all their supplies including clothing and food. Suddenly the people in the city were free and had plenty to eat. They went from starving to having more than enough. We have no idea what God's timeline is. We can be filled with faith do His will day by day, minute by minute. He knows our needs and He knows His plan for us. Though we may feel starved from time to time, the floodgates will open. I took a deep breath and told God that I would wait on his good timing. That I would pray for the time and energy to come so I could fulfill his plans for me. From that moment on, the anger left and was replaced by joy. God has me and I will let Him carry me and all my dreams. He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also He has put eternity in their hearts, except that no one can find out the work that God does from beginning to end.
Ever had a case of the parenting blues? Or the blahs? Your fourteen-month-old becomes obsessed with banging pots and pans and your five year-old is determined to memorize all the scientific names of dinosaurs. The days become all at once chaotic and yet monotonous and all you can think is, "This is really not fun. It just isn't anymore."
Take heart. We have all been there. I went through some pretty tough months feeling both disappointing and exhausted with my motherhood. It wasn't until Micaela came along and I realized that baby and toddler years are going to be twice as long with her (perhaps even tripled or quadrupled--she has a lot of developemental delays) that I finally realized something key to parenthood. Parents get to have fun, too. Yes ma'am, and sirs, we get to be part of it. In fact, the moment that you embrace this idea you are going to find that you connect with your kids and make amazing memories with them. It will help them in their learning and growing and socializing. Why? Because when you are happy, energized, and focused, your children are getting the very best YOU. This is so simple. I wish I had figured this out during some of Adela's younger years. *sigh* But, you can only move forward in life. Okay, get a pen and paper and list 10 things that you truly enjoy. These ten things should be things that always put a smile on your face. My ten are reading, doing art, baking, romance, graphs/analyzing, organizing, music, stories, exploring outdoors, and spending time with family. Look at your list. Right now I love doing adult coloring pages. I bet Adela would love it too. She could really work on her fine motor skills as she tried to color in those intricate designs. Later, when it is time for Micaela's physical therapy I will be turning on Pandora to some Contemporary Christian music as we practice going from sit to stand. And, as I do these things, I will be focused and excited and energized because I can bring my own passion into the mix. Our kids need to see this side of us. It is real. It is sincere. It is life. And it is so much better than go through the motions and trudging through those parenting blues. Bring YOU back into parenting and have some fun. They are only little just this once. I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God. Ecclesiastes 3:12-13, NIV
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I don't know about Adela, but there sure were butterflies in my stomach each day I sent her off to school those first few weeks. My mind swarmed with worries. Will she pay attention? Will she show the teacher we have been working on holding a pencil this summer? Will she be respectful? Will she make friends? Will anyone be able to understand her English-Spanish jargon?
Adela is, in my mind, a spectacular child. I love the way she nurtures her animals, includes Micaela in games, and enjoys extra-dramatic imaginary play. But school is not coming easy to her. I thought it would. School always fit me like a guppy in the ocean. However, Adela hasn't shown much interest in academics and her speech delays have become a source of frustration for her. In my mind and heart it is difficult for me not to start freaking out. My thoughts get caught up in a cycle where all I can think about are activities that might help her bridge the gap so she won't always struggle. As my heart hurts for her, God has been leaving me bread crumbs everywhere so I can grasp a more important truth. A couple days ago when I was speaking to Micaela's vision therapist I finally got it--RELAX. Micaela's vision therapist raised two boys who are now in their 30's. She smiled at me as I related to her my concerns for Adela and shared that one of her boys did not take to reading when he was in school but that now as an adult he loves spending hours reading huge novels. She said she had wished that she had relaxed more as a mother because in the big scheme of things everything worked out just fine. Her simple story helped me take a deep breath and give myself some peace. Academics are important but they are not everything. I know lawyers who have always made C's in school and college but are stunning at their jobs. I know that good work ethics trump a naturally ability to grasp phonetics and number sense. And anyone with a healthy sense of self-worth and a relationship with God is going to fulfill a path that is beyond what my own mind can comprehend. Adela needs love more than she needs to know the correct way to hold a pencil. She needs positive reinforcement for all she does well more than she needs to be able to write her alphabet right now. Helping her learn how to get a job done and feel good about herself is priceless. My job isn't easy, but to do it right I need to relax. I need to stop trying to shove her precious soul into that box I made for her and let her be the person God created. If you are a mom or dad struggling with this, I encourage you to talk to God. Ask Him for strength and peace to accept the child He gave you as you prepare them for His plan.
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"Ain't she a little darling?" The woman's voice shocked me out of my weary perusal of the different kinds of canned tomatoes. I managed to smile at her and then turned my eyes to the "little darling".
My eyes widened and I gasped. "No! Micaela, no!" Somehow she had got a hold of the bag of apples and had chewed on one so much through the bag that she had reduced it to applesauce. Micaela gave me a slobbery grin and continued gnawing until I pried the bag free. Then the "little darling" balled her hands into fists and screamed. I turned apologetically to the woman. What must she think of me? It was obvious that Micaela must have chewed on that apple for several minutes to accomplish such a disaster. I had been ignoring the child that sat right in front of me on the cart. But when I turned to the lady her eyes were full of nothing less than love. Adela popped her head out from the side of the cart and said, "Hi." The lady smiled at Adela and looked back to me. "You have two precious girls. I bet they are a handful. I bet they are well-loved, too. Nice to see that. You are doing a good job, mamma." She patted my hand and moved her own cart along down the ailse. My mouth was open like a fish. I closed it and felt my eyes sting a little. What she said to me was pure and simple something said to build me up. She hadn't needed to do that. She could have been justified in a dozen ways to offer advice or even lecture me a bit. But she didn't. She found something positive she could tell me and she strengthened me with those words of love. Lord knew I needed that. Trips to the store are trying. Adela wants to explore and Micaela wants to chew on everything or toss it out of the cart. By the time we leave I'm an exhausted, snappy, defeated mamma. But that day I left the store feeling more like a conqueror and less like the wounded civilian. Behind someone's back and to their face, our words should always come from love. I know I am guilty of not always doing this. I get angry or feel scandalized and what I speak tears down more than it builds up. It reminds me of a child building a castle out of blocks. It only takes a tiny nudge to send the whole thing tumbling down, but it takes careful concentration and energy to build it up. I hope my words always reflect the love and consideration that woman showed me that day. Our words should give someone strength and peace and joy when they talk to me and never the opposite. May what we speak to others always be full of truth and encouragement. Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.
I had my hands full of unbaked pumpkin bread when Adela burst into the house with big news: She had found "all the eggs in the world."
Now, when your four year-old tells you something like that, you don't quite take it seriously. Not quite. I looked down at the pans in my hands and sighed. The kitchen was a mess. A big mess. Micaela's glasses had came off again and I had meat cooking for enchilades. I was not ready for Adela to find "all the eggs in the world." But, something inside me hinted that I needed to pay attention to whatever it was she was excited about. I gulped back frustration, put the bread in the oven, turned off the stove, and gathered up Micaela and her glasses. Triumphantly Adela led us outside and into the shed to show us her great find. It was a great find. I had to chuckle when she showed me it. Hidden under the work bench on the wall of the shed, behind empty storage buckets, was a huge cache of eggs. Finally we had found where the chickens had been laying when they aren't locked up in the coop. I handed a couple coffee cans to Adela and let her slender body wiggle to the back and load up "all the eggs in the world." I loved Adela's dusty smile as she gathered and counted her booty. Her brown eyes sparkled when I kissed her and let her know I was proud. She talked about it all day. Surprises are not an easy thing for me. My reaction to anything unplanned or spontaneous is innitially negative. But, with God, that is changing. It is great to have a plan and be organized, but some of the sweetest memories of my life have been in the unforeseen moments. When I give up and give in to life I find that I am finally living it. I am living in faith. I am living in joy for whatever God gives me. Adela's find was a good reminder for me to embrace things that go against my own plans. Life is so much sweeter when when we give up crontrol of it to God. Of course, when Adela brought me a live mouse a couple hours later...well, I figured it was a good time for a bath followed by pumpkin bread. :) Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.
I have the most distorted view of time and my abilities. I must. I make lists that are never finished on time and goals that always end up with pushed-back deadlines. When I mark something off or cross it out my eyes move to what needs to happen next. My heart is heavy.
In my head I have failed and continue to come up short. This afternoon I got out my Bible because I promised God I would use some of Micaela's naptime for him. I waded through some of the Old Testament until I got to the part in 2 Chronicles where they are dedicating the Temple. Did you know that those people partied for two weeks? I read and reread the passage because something about it irked me. Two weeks. Didn't they have fields to plant? Job to do? Babies? Homes? Two weeks, really? Why? Because it was important. Celebrating was important. Celebrating is important. I never celebrate. When Micaela reaches a milestone I report it to the therapists and move to work on the next skill. When Adela establishes a new habit I pat her on the back and think about what we should learn next. When Jovani finishes a stage on our little ranch I ponder what struggles the next stage will bring. When I write another page in my book I wonder how much editing it will take before it is publisher-worthy. I never celebrate. How awful. As I read and re-read the passage of the dedication of the Temple I was struck by the power of celebration. Celebration was not just dancing and music and goofing off. Celebration set aside time to reflect on how good God had been to them. It was time to praise their Lord, and share that story with others who might not have known or understood. Without celebration the Temple would have simply stood silent, a quiet passing into existance. Goodness, I need celebration in my life. I need to reflect on God's grace each time my little family finishes something. I need to praise Him when I have the energy and time to do even a single house chore on my list. I need to joyfully share with others how great He is. Time to start scooping up some joy and pouring it on all that surrounds me and makes up my world. And, I will celebrate. |
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