Remnant of Grace

A Home

2012-02-25T19:56:00.000-05:00

For the last four years (maybe even longer), I would say that our house was just that, a house....not really a home. It was perpetually messy, even dirty, but more than that, it lacked all the extras that make a building homey.

When Eon was born, we suddenly had six children, four of whom were aged five and under, and we were plunged into the world of special-needs-parenting. Prior to his birth, I was (obviously) pregnant, a state that leaves me exhausted, queasy, and crabby...and doing the barest of bare minimum. After his birth, even though he was generally healthy, we had appointment after appointment, one always leading to another, plus two hospitalizations and one heart surgery.

We had little (read "needy" and "messy") children who seemed bent on destroying every knick-knack, throw pillow, and window covering in sight. A relaxed housekeeper in the best of times, I couldn't even pretend to keep up. My ADD, with it's trademark ability to hyper-focus on select things and not at all on other things, allowed me to immerse myself in the world of Down syndrome, but accomplish little else.

After the first year, the appointments slowed and I thought I could get my bearings, only to find myself unexpectedly pregnant with KJ. Another 9 months of the barest of bare minimum, a kidney stone, and a scary delivery later and we now had seven children, five of them under six-years-old. Then I had a revisit of the kidney stone with stents, infections, hospitalizations, and surgery.

Things at home continued to deteriorate.

Last summer, I found myself depressed, overwhelmed, and without hope and, what's more, I think I'd felt that way for a very long time. I couldn't cut this stay-at-home, homeschool mom thing any more. We, or rather I, discussed sending the kids to public school, but the kids seemed to be doing fine. I was the one struggling...with the dingy environment, the overwhelming clutter, and my inability to affect change.

When the opportunity to escape for three months and work full-time presented itself, I was almost giddy with anticipation. With Shawn home, I knew things would change in rapid order.

The first few months flew by and I agreed to stay on permanently. Things did not really change much with the house, but I didn't really care. It was no longer my responsibility and I just felt free, honestly.

It took Shawn until very recently to get his bearings. After all, he wasn't presented with a handy job description for his new role like I was. But, slowly, things with the house were changing. New paint, less clutter, window coverings, throw pillows, etc and, suddenly, I realized I am comfortable in my house. It feels...well, homey.

I am so blessed that God is allowing this change in circumstances to bring restoration to our entire family in so many different ways. I am grateful. I am humbled. I am home.

One Thousand Gifts

2011-11-27T12:33:00.000-05:00

Recently, I mentioned to a friend that I don't often choose gratitude. In fact, I was reticent to log into my facebook account because so many of my friends were posting something they were thankful for every day in honor of Thanksgiving. I found it annoying.

My friend graciously loaned me her copy of the book, One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.

I am entranced. I'm also convicted, encouraged, and...well, grateful that God would put this tool in my hand at this moment.

She writes poetically, and it's difficult to read more than a few pages before needing to stop and absorb the content. So much meat in such a small book.

I'm only half way through and my own list of one thousand gifts stands at a paltry forty, buy my eyes are starting to see and my list is growing faster and my heart is growing larger as I develop the discipline and reap the delight of eucharisteo.

I cannot recommend this book more highly. Get a copy for yourself. Might as well get a copy for your friends, as well. Then you won't have to loan them yours and wait...and wait...and wait to get it back. (Sorry, Peg! :)

The Seizure

2011-11-14T21:54:00.000-05:00

Saturday, after having donuts in honor of our bookends' birthdays (Michaela, our oldest, turned 15, and Keturah, our youngest, turned one), Eon suddenly started crying and grabbing his belly while rolling around in obvious pain. We tried everything to calm him and to discover what the problem was, to no avail.

After a half hour of this, we called the doctor on call and left a message for the nurse. Before she returned our call, he calmed somewhat. Then, while he was laying on our bed, his eyes half-way closed, his eyes started flitting from side to side. I called his name and he didn't respond. When I called him louder, his eyes opened wider and stilled, but didn't focus. Then they half closed and flitted some more. The whole thing probably lasted 30 seconds or so.

When the nurse called and I explained what happened, she sent us to the ER. Eon was completely exhausted by then and didn't even move when Shawn buckled him into the van. Pulling into the ER parking lot, I thought he looked pale and I couldn't get him to wake up. I shook his leg and patted him and called his name loudly. Nothing. Freaked out, I pulled into the nearest parking spot, yanked him from his car seat and took off running.

Halfway to the door he said, "Momma. Down!" After that, he acted totally normal. He was diagnosed with an ear infection. I tried to hold him down for a CT scan. That was fun. They were able to get enough to rule out hydrocephalus and a brain tumor, anyway.

We were instructed to have our pediatrician order an EEG and follow-up with a pediatric neurologist. We have an appointment with our ped tomorrow morning.

Honestly, I'm a little stressed about it all. I was very afraid on the way to the ER.

Also, I'm in a lot of physical pain. I hurt my back dashing into the hospital with a 30 pound bundle of low muscle tone. I just recently recovered from a back injury that happened over 3 months ago. I have some thoughts about this new injury that I haven't sorted out, yet. I'll keep you posted.

For now, please pray for my boy.

Groundhog Day

2011-11-05T20:08:00.000-04:00

The days run together until everyday is Groundhog Day....generally pleasant, but not something I would like to endlessly repeat. I find that physical exhaustion collides with mental fatigue and so I numb myself with the mindless drug of television...partly because I want to escape or avoid, and partly because I'm too tired to remember what I could/should be doing instead.

How does one do the "quality time" I've heard so much about? How do you make every moment matter when you really just want a nap?

It takes a courage that I lack. To step outside of myself, to push aside my selfishness, might carry the expectation that I'll do it all the time. It might invite further guilt when I cannot pull it off consistently. Better to let them think it's not a possibility, than to show them what of me they're missing.

Oh, Lord. I've been a fool to think I need you less when obviously I need you so much more. So many more people needing me...needing You...needing me to show them You. I have no time to lose, yet losing time is exactly what I've been doing on these Groundhog days. Instead of wallowing, the Bill Murray in me needs to wake up and finally get it right. Have mercy on me. Give me grace and strength. I need you. Please, show them You through me.

Role Swapping Part 3

2011-10-02T10:58:00.000-04:00

I've just finished week 7 of our great social experiment and I wonder where the time goes. It feels like we are still at the beginning instead of in the middle.

It has been working so well, that we started contemplating if this is something we could actually do for longer than just 3 months. We knew they had permanent positions available and began discussing the possibility of expressing interest in one of them. After stewing for awhile about it, I finally just told God that if He wanted me to do this, they would have to approach me. The very next afternoon, my boss and the rest of the staff decided I should work there full-time and set things in motion to make it happen.

After much, much prayer, we've decided that I'll accept the position.

I'm learning a few things. I think I've been overwhelmed, and slightly depressed, for awhile. Maybe years. I think the fog I've been living with is starting to clear, just enough to realize it's there, but not quite enough to see with any great clarity.

I have things I wonder, too. I wonder if my guilt at loving my job is true or false. I really believe that this is the best thing for our family at this time. Shawn has vision for schooling the kids, developing a relationship with the boys, strengthening his relationship with the girls, and even whipping our home into shape. He is really enjoying the sleep that comes with knowing that paychecks are consistent. I am enjoying not being solely responsible for all of the above. I love feeling like I actually completed something at the end of each day. I love coming home to the kids and enjoying them. I love that my relationship with my teen daughter is so much healthier, now that we aren't fighting about cleaning the house all the time. And I love the new found confidence my 6yo son with a diagnosed anxiety disorder is displaying, now that he has his dad around to pour into him.

And yet, I feel a bit guilty and selfish for loving all those things. It almost feels like the death of a dream. I kept hoping that, one day, I would magically get better at the whole homeschooling/home managing thing. I secretly wonder if God just gave up on me and gave me an out. It's humbling to admit that you can't cut it in your chosen profession, especially if your chosen profession is raising children. But, my husband is so grateful that I'm doing this. Whatever God's motives for working this out, there is grace for this, and I am grateful, too.

Role Swapping Part 2

2011-08-28T15:15:00.000-04:00

Week two is completed of our social experiment and here's an update: The first week, I came home exhausted every night. The baby was still waking in the night to feed so I wasn't getting much sleep. Plus, I chose not to pump during the day so that my daytime supply would decrease as she does well on formula. Unfortunately, that caused a clogged duct which led to mastitis. However, I was able to recognize the signs early enough to get on antibiotics and didn't miss any work.

And, I'm still dealing with a back injury from a month ago. I'm in physical therapy (which seems to make it worse) and beginning to think I have a herniated disc. Ugh. But, even with pain, I've managed to be functional. Yay!

This past week, the baby slept through the night and that helped tremendously. I'm beginning to have a bit of mental/physical energy left at the end of the work day. I still haven't figured out the best start time. I think it's probably 7:00 am. Seems to work best for my energy level and for the patients. I have some that would prefer to get therapy over before breakfast.

At the end of the week, I felt groggy and disconnected from the family. I'm having trouble remembering to pray for them as much as I used to. Plus, it's hard to engage when I first get home. I just want to escape into facebook. I've allowed myself to do just that, but I don't plan to this week.

The kids don't seem any worse for the wear. They seem happy to see me at the end of the day, but nobody seems distraught if they see me leave, and they're pretty matter of fact about the whole thing.

Here's what I've noticed about the whole thing:

The boys seem to be doing better. I realized that they really benefit from having Dad around more. They were running me ragged and really need a heavier hand than I was giving them. Shawn is much better at consistency than I am.

The house is still a mess with Shawn at the helm, but I have no guilt about it and it's awesome! I realize that I've lived with guilt about everything home-related for years. I have ADD and I struggle with housekeeping, and that is putting it so mildly it's almost laughable. Even when the mess is under control, there is always so much more that can/should be done. I'm pretty good at relaxing anyway, but not without guilt.

That being said, I also realize that I need to contribute when I get home. I plan to do so, I just need to get the exhaustion under control, first.

Without the messy house coming between us, I think I'm getting along better with my type-A teen. I'm able to enjoy her without feeling judged for being a slacker or judging her for being to harsh with her younger sibs about cleaning up. It's a good thing.

On the flip side, I feel completely disconnected from my husband. He seems to be struggling a bit to find his way in this new role. We love our kids, but let's face it. He has the harder of the two jobs. He's not used to all the different personalities and sin natures asserting themselves in his face all. day. long. Just feeding all of them is a major feat! He is worn out at the end of the day, too. I'm also biting my tongue...a lot. He would be amazed at how much, because sometimes I forget, but I'm trying. It's much easier to see what needs to be done when you're not in the trenches.

We'll figure it out. For now, I'm enjoying the swap and continuing to take it one day at a time.

Role Swapping

2011-08-11T16:41:00.001-04:00

My husband is self-employed. He is a handyman and is very good at what he does. Unfortunately, his business has taken a blow by the downturn of the economy.

I am a SAHM, but I'm also an occupational therapist. I've been working a day or two per week to supplement our income this summer. It has helped, but we've wiped out our savings and things are tight.

Recently, I was offered a 13-week assignment working very close to home 6-8 hours per day. If we stick to our bare bones budget, we could bank several months worth of expenses by the time it's over. We decided that I would take it and he would stay home with the kids.

This is a big move for our family, even though it's only temporary. Switching roles is challenging. Letting go of our old roles will be challenging, too.

We homeschool and I was really looking forward to teaching our kids this year. It's been a long time since I've looked forward to school. Here's an explanation of that. It's hard for me to give that up, even for a few months. It will be hard not to tell Shawn how to do everything or to express frustration when he doesn't do it my way. Which is actually pretty funny given that I feel like a failure as a home manager much of the time.

I feel like this is a big social experiment happening in my very own home. I intend to blog about it, the practical and the emotional. I start Monday.

One day at a time.

"We have decided to trust Him only"?

2011-07-16T17:03:00.000-04:00

Last Sunday, the worship team at church led us in a song that I was afraid to sing. The lyrics were something like:

"Do what you will, Do what you want, we have decided to trust you only. We want to be whatever you're wanting, you are the Lord of our lives."

I found myself looking around at all the people around me who were singing with abandon, and thinking, "Really? Am I the only one who is unsure if I can really sing this in all honesty?"

I know that He's wanting our lives to glorify Him. What if, to prove He is the God of all comfort, He needs to take someone from us?

I know that He's wanting to increase our faith. What if, to prove Himself as our provider, He needs to dry up our source of income?

I know that He's wanting us to become more like Him. What if, to teach us to die to ourselves, He needs to fill our house with more children than we can handle? (Oh, wait. He's already done that one.)

I don't mean that I doubt in His goodness. I just doubt His way of showing His goodness is the way we'd like for Him to. I know that if I lost a loved one, He would prove to be the God of all comfort and pour out His grace, and work it for my good and His glory. I know that if we ceased to get paid, He would provide for us in a thousand different ways and increase our faith exponentially. And, I know, that in our house filled with children, He has proven himself faithful and taught us to give and stretch and die in ways I didn't think possible...all for His glory and our good.

But I don't wish those lessons on myself, you know?

I don't know that I have completely decided to "trust Him only". I know that I want to be there. But I'm not, yet.

Recalculating

2011-06-24T20:45:00.000-04:00

I was given the gift of perspective this week. My sister took all four of my middle children while my two oldest were at camp, leaving me with just the baby.

While they were gone, I was able to relax a bit and spend some extra time with my husband. I was also able to have uninterrupted thoughts, a luxury I forgot existed. While I was thinking, I realized some things. One is that I don't often pray for my kids beyond the customary, "Bless and protect them. Give them a good day," type prayers.

In neglecting that little nugget of necessity, I have let my standards slip and the vision fade. I was accepting mediocrity in my parenting and in their character. After all, they're just normal kids.

Surely that tween show isn't too bad.
Hanging out at the mall won't hurt them; all the kids do.
I know we said no overnights, but we do trust that family.
It's normal for teens to roll their eyes and slam doors.
He should be disciplined for calling me names, but he's acting sweet now.

When I'm in the middle of the chaos and the mess, it's so easy to miss the big picture. I'm mostly concerned with the moment and forget about the future. It becomes a battle between what's easiest and what's best. Easiest wins.

With perspective came the realization about not praying, which led to much praying, which led to more perspective, which led to gratitude.

I am so grateful that, when I venture off course, one prayer for help and I can almost hear God say, "Recalculating," before he helps me back on track. Sometimes, it takes awhile to find my way back, with added u-turns and curves, and sometimes, it's almost like He picks me up and sets me right where I left off.

I'm not sure what kind of redirection I'm currently experiencing. They've only been home a few hours and I've already veered off course a few times. I'm just trying to keep my eyes on Jesus and trust Him with the journey while committing to pray, daily, for the precious gifts He has given me.

Measuring Sticks and Rose-colored glasses

2011-05-16T15:27:00.000-04:00

Lately, I've been feeling like I don't measure up. I saw an athletic mom running into the grocery store yesterday, and cringed because I'm so out of shape. I looked at a fellow homeschooling mom's pictures on Facebook, and felt small because of my tendency to never upload the pics in my camera (if I even have any). Talked to a friend, and was reminded that she really delights in her children, and I barely tolerate mine, at times. Another homeschooling mom's children entertained with beautiful music at our church variety show and only one of mine took piano lessons...and I never made her practice.

I have friends who have cleaner houses (by far), more patience, stronger faith, "bigger" ministries, holier kids, and infinitely better organizational skills. I keep falling short.

It's not just about comparing myself to others. I compare myself to the me I want to be, as well. I compare my realities to my intentions. I want to be more focused, more caring, more capable, more godly, just...more. I fall short. I don't measure up.

And then He gently reminds me. He doesn't have a measuring stick. Doesn't need one to see that we all fall short of His glory. He doesn't measure the increments to see how short or who's falling shortest. None of us measure up. It's the human condition.

He doesn't view my life with a measuring stick.

Because I've accepted Jesus, He sees me through rose-colored glasses; through the filter of the blood of His Son. I don't have to measure up; He bridged the distance. When I view my life through His lens, I have peace. I experience joy. I can come to Him, I do come to Him, and lay all the failings and unmet expectations at His feet. I find rest for my soul and my strivings cease.

It is a burden to try and measure up. With my nose to the grindstone, I so rarely take time to see Him...to enjoy His presence. My life, once again, becomes about doing, instead of being.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. " Matt. 11:28

Mother's Day Musings

2011-05-08T18:42:00.000-04:00

I am intimidated by Mother's Day. The cards all wax eloquent thanking me for being so selfless and giving; for putting aside my own desires to focus on the wants of my kids; for being patient and kind; even for having gentle hands that nurture.

Bologna.

That's just really not me. I am often selfish and needy, impatient and rude, rough and crass. I feel like a fraud when I accept the humble offerings of my kids on this day.

I am human and imperfect. My children know this about me and I am sure that picking out the perfect Mother's Day card is difficult for them. I imagine them standing in the aisle rejecting card after card, until they finally find a safe, funny one.

I hate that the holiday objectifies motherhood until it is something angelic and saintly like halos and gold dust. I know few women who can live up to that.

It portrays the "good" mothers are those who can read the same favorite bedtime stories for hours on end, instead of hiding the annoying books and leaving out only the short ones....that rhyme. They can create gourmet meals on a shoe string budget, instead of serving frozen pizza for the 3rd time this week. There is no way they have a hidden chocolate stash, but if they did and it was found, they'd be sure to share, instead of lunging for it and yelling, "MINE!"

The truth is I love my kids. I clean up their bodily fluids because it needs to be done, not because I am saint-like. I delight in them because they're, well, delightful. I try to do what's best for them and can agonize for weeks over the simplest decision.

I'm just a mom. I feel like I am failing much more often than succeeding. I notice all the the things I'm not doing, over all I am. I worry that I'm not disciplining enough, enjoying them enough, teaching them enough, loving them enough...that I'm not enough.

Instead of thanking me for what I have done, Mother's Day - with it's sappy cards, commercials, and sermons - just spotlights for me the areas I'm lacking. Next year, I'm going to unplug from all the media pressure and enjoy my family as they celebrate imperfect me.

Parenting

2011-05-07T23:15:00.000-04:00

I can’t shake the feeling that perhaps I don’t have the kingdom view necessary to undertake this huge job of parenting. Maybe we’re not really living it, kwim? I feel completely ill-equipped for this overwhelming role and think I’m sinking instead of swimming. While I agree that there can be no formula for raising perfect kids, is it wrong to wish there were?

I recently read an article that talks about success in parenting. Basically, that we are successful in our obedience, not necessarily in the outcome. That is encouraging to me. I fall on my face before the Father and beg for wisdom, only to find I need to do the same the next day and the next. The task is daunting. I have one moment that I absolutely know I did the right thing … for every 100 moments of uncertainty.

When will I know for sure it’s "worked"? When my child can sits still in a church service at the age of 2? When my 1st grader obeys my every wish without explanation? When my teen dresses modestly of her own accord? When my 25 yo shares his very first kiss with his new bride? Are these even the goals?

I suppose none of us will ever know of our parenting "success" until we stand before the Father and hear his assessment.

The problem is that our children are human and subject to the very whims and temptations that we are. And, just like us, many may look good on the outside but only God knows the heart. Any spiritual growth can only come from the work of the Holy Spirit. We can point our children in the right direction, but we can’t mature them. Only God can do that. While this is frightening in some ways (we can’t ensure the outcome) it is also incredibly freeing. We will be held accountable only for our obedience, not for the choices our children make.

Stupid Birds

2011-04-11T09:54:00.000-04:00

"Stupid birds!"

That is the crux of my problem, I realized this morning.

It's been winter here, in central Indiana, for far too long. The weeks were cold, the snow was colder, and the days were far too short. I was miserable, and everybody knew it. "I hate winter. Why do we still live in Indiana? Will it ever be spring, again?" was a frequent mantra.

As is typical in Indiana, we had some warm, teaser days, and then temperatures plummeted once again. Yesterday, however was warm. The trees are flowering, the grass is green and will need mowed soon. We opened the windows wide to let in the fresh air.

We walked, played, and laughed in the sun, so excited that spring had arrived, at last.

Then, this morning, right before dawn, I heard them. The birds. They were making a racket with their mating calls and chatter.

"Stupid birds!" I muttered as I rolled over with the pillow over my head to block the noise.

Wow. My negativity is killing me. Maybe literally, given all my recent health issues, but certainly, it is killing my spirit. Give me any silver lining and I am sure to show you the cloud. Even while noticing the beauty of our flowering trees yesterday, I was quick to point out the stench they put off. Complain, complain, complain.

I can't even stand to be around me, I'm so critical and negative. I'm glad the Holy Spirit pointed this out to me. This is not who I want to be. Mine is not a life that glorifies God if I take everything He's given me and add a negative spin.

Scripture tells me to give thanks in every situation, to be content in whatever state I'm in, and to do all things without complaining. Somewhere, I lost these virtues along the way and allowed the sin of ingratitude to poison my soul. Now it's time to wash myself with the Word and renew my mind...and enjoy the birds.

Tanking

2011-03-13T15:50:00.000-04:00

Discouragement is nipping at my heels. Anxiety is wrapped around my ankles. When I close my eyes, I see myself sliding into a sink hole. To say I'm stressed would be quite an understatement.

Grace and works are warring again in my mind. I get that I don't have to "do" anything to earn my salvation and to receive favor from God. And, yet, there is just much that needs doing. I am always behind. It's hard to remember that you are justified in Christ when He's not the one clamoring for dinner, or demanding payment on money owed, or scrutinizing your dirty house.

I've heard many times that "God is the only one you need to please". Except, that's not really true, is it? We all have responsibilities. When I was a child, I needed to please my parents. In college, I needed to please my professors. As a wife, I need to please my husband. As an adult, I need to please the IRS, my employers, the therapists who treat my son, the other moms in my homeschool group, church leadership, and on and on it goes.

So how exactly does this grace thing work in all of this?

The reality is that even if I did none of the things I am responsible for doing, God is pleased with me. I know this because when I was still a sinner, He died for me. Before He was even on my radar, He was wooing me to Himself. All the rest are waiting to judge me when I fall short, and God? Well He comes up beside me and makes up the difference.

I am okay, as is.

There is much about me that needs redemption and yet, He only sees me as already redeemed. That is the mystery of the gospel that Paul referred to. It's a mystery because we cannot fully grasp just how for us God already is. We keep trying to perform, to do, to be good enough to win His approval and we have little concept that we already have it.

The other piece of the mystery is that once I get that He is pleased with me, I want to please Him. Not in a way that is self-serving, like, "Gee, I hope He likes me"; but instead, in a way that wants Him to be blessed.

So I will meet my responsibilities to my husband, the IRS, my employers, early intervention therapists, our homeschool group, our church leadership team, etc, because that's what God, who loves me whether I do or not, has called me to do.

I think He'll be pleased.

Legalism

2011-01-26T19:51:00.000-05:00

I’m beginning to think that legalism is the root of all kinds of evil. We often think we are impervious to it, but clearly we are not. It infiltrates our subconscious and colors the lens through which we view others and ourselves. It causes us to act in ways which are inconsistent with our beliefs and contradictory to our hearts. It places a price tag on that which is free and keeps us from ever walking in victory.

More lethally, it keeps others from having a relationship with Jesus. Other people latch onto our particular brand of legalism, and follow along, looking the part. But, in a moment where true relationship would keep them from disaster, the rules of legalism just force them underground.

Meet Julie, a married mom of a 3 1/2 year-old daughter. She comes from "a religious family" (her words). After struggles with both primary and secondary infertility, she finds herself pregnant with a much wanted little boy. Unfortunately, Julie discovered from amniocentesis that her son is sporting an extra chromosome. Down syndrome was not part of the plan and she is terrified. She also admits that she is very, very angry at God for playing "this cruel joke" on her.

Julie wants an abortion. But, she is struggling with that decision because of her "religious family." The only person that she has shared her son’s diagnosis with is her sister, who is championing that Julie and her husband will do a great job raising a child with Ds. Julie has not shared with her the desire/plan to terminate, because she is worried that her sister will "think less of her."

I can’t help but wonder. If Julie’s family were less religion and more relationship, would that make a difference in this situation? If she were not worried about judgment from them for breaking the rules, would she be able to share her heart and be heard? Would the love and support of her family change the outcome for both Julie and her baby? Would she have already come to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ?

If she had relationship with Jesus, instead of a desire to keep up appearances, she would already be convinced that, because God loves her and her son, He must have a plan for her precious baby’s life that includes his extra genetic material. She would know that he is being knit together in secret for a purpose, and that he is being created in the image of her God. Termination might have been her gut reaction to the mind-numbing fear, but it would have garnered no serious consideration.

What about the rest of us? Are we living according to some moral code that applies to other people’s situations? Do we know that abortion is wrong because it just is…and because we would never find ourselves in a situation where we would be tempted? Or do we know it’s wrong because of a gut-wrenching knowledge of the Father’s heart? Can we be real with the Julies of this world and say, "I know your fear. I’ve had it, too. I, too, just wanted to make it go away," and then encourage them that God knows, and that only He can bring them peace?

Or do we shake our heads and click our tongues and declare, "I could never do that to my baby," knowing that it is unlikely that we would ever find ourselves in that situation.

It is easy for me to sit on this side of it and judge. Today I find myself judging the unknown "you" that are steeped in legalism, reacting only to the intent and not responding to the heart. Tomorrow, in my frustration, I will judge the sinner, too. I will be so frustrated and feel so helpless that I could not make her see the truth, when the truth is not mine to reveal. I will feel holier than thou because I’m living this life, and she chose to throw it away.

How is that different? Unfortunately, it’s not. If I had a living, breathing Julie in my life, I would hold her hand and let her cry. I would listen as she processed. I would validate her feelings and pray with her. I would lovingly share truth with her and pour everything I had into her. And then if, in her fear she chose wrongly, I would walk away in disgust and horror.

When will my eyes be Yours, Lord? When will I hear with Your ears? How long must I live this selfish life? Why does it always come back to my foolish pride? I pray for grace, dear Lord. Grace to love my brand of unlovables. I pray for grace to own the mercy you have so freely given me, so that I can freely give it. Change my heart of stone.

(I wrote this post in October of 2009. I don't know what Julie chose to do, but since she broke contact with me, I think I can safely guess that she chose to abort her precious son. Given the new, non-invasive blood test for Down syndrome diagnosis in pregnancies that will be here in the US within the year, the likelihood of many more stories like Julie's is great. Do we have what it takes to love them all?)

Things I wish my children knew

2011-01-24T20:00:00.001-05:00

Here are 5 things I wish my children knew:

Everything is not an emergency. There are true emergencies in life. They usually involve blood or fire. So, unless there is blood (must be dripping or spurting) or fire, do not interrupt my phone call, bathroom break, or nap. Really, don't. Because then we might have an emergency.
There are injustices in the world. Children sent to mental institutions just because they have an extra chromosome is one of them. Getting a smaller piece of cake than your siblings is not.
Honesty really is the best policy. Why? Because you stink at lying. I will catch you and, even if I can't prove you are lying, we both know you are. My trust in you plummets to zero and neither of us wants that. I allow very few good things to happen to you when I don't trust you. So, just tell the truth.
I love you. I believe in you. I am behind you. I am your biggest fan, your greatest champion, and your strongest supporter. I am incredibly blessed to be your mom!
God is real and He is good. Never stop talking to Him, even if you're mad at Him. He's big. He can take it. It is hard for me to believe this, but He loves you even more than I do. He will never leave you. Ever. He will never fail you. I have failed you before and I probably will again, but He won't.

That's my list, so far. What's your list?

Resolution Rebellion

2011-01-01T16:43:00.000-05:00

For many years, I have rebelled against New Year's Resolutions. I tired early in my life of setting myself up for failure by writing impossible goals, kept only through the first few weeks. A few weeks is apparently all I have strength for in my own personal resolve.

Doomed to fail, anyway, why even bother to try at all?

I also have issues with doing the expected. In some ways, I am such a sheep and I hate that, so I rebel in easier things. EVERYONE does NY's resolutions, therefore I am NOT doing NY's resolutions.

Warped, right?

But, just because something has become cliche, doesn't mean it doesn't have some inherent value. There is value in reflection. There is meaning in looking over the past year and lauding what was right and wanting to right what was wrong.

Based solely on facebook statuses (since I don't actually have a memory), the first half of the year I did pretty good. I enjoyed my children (evidenced by all the funny quotes) and was thankful for my large brood and our ability to homeschool (evidenced by Scripture and gratitude statuses). The second half I seemed to become less content with my lot in life (evidenced by snarky and complaining posts).

Sigh.

I still don't know if I can resolve to do anything, but here are my New Year's Intentions:

1.) I intend to pray and seek God on what He wants me to do this year with this passion for orphans that has welled up inside of me.

2.) I intend to hug more, especially my older kids. The littles beg for physical affection, but the olders need it, too.

3.) I intend to start my day in prayer, before my feet hit the floor. Committing my day to Him can only be a good thing.

4.) I intend to pray more for the challenging people in my life, instead of about them.

These are my intentions for 2011. There are only four of them and three of them involve prayer. Shouldn't be too hard, right? :)

Walking Wounded

2010-12-04T17:43:00.001-05:00

They come out of nowhere, those fiery darts designed to penetrate my soul. Sometimes, they glance off my armor and fall to the ground, barely noticed. But, sometimes, they cut through straight into my heart, rendering me paralyzed by shock and pain.

The most startling thing about them is that they are often lobbed by fellow, well-meaning Christians. Perhaps they thought they were simply "speaking the truth in love" but instead shot an arrow unaware. What's the expression? A church hurt is the worst hurt? Reeling, I struggle to makes sense of it all. My mind races as I wonder if the lies I've been fed are really truth and I've been duped by my own complacency. I question everything in my haste to stem the pain.

The most recent arrow came in the form of a question: Are you good enough to be the wife of a deacon? I was found wanting. The question alone was proof of that, but, in case I'd missed it, more evidence was heaped on the wound. Every sin and character flaw I'd ever committed or exhibited was freshly reviewed to prove my inadequacy. I don't think the arrow would've hurt quite so much if I hadn't been married to said deacon for over seventeen years. It's who I am. In questioning my qualifications, they were questioning my worth. "Are you good enough to be who you are?" resounded in my brain.

It hurt. It was messy. I was misunderstood and I hate to be misunderstood. I tried to explain, to be heard, to no avail. I wanted to stand up to the anonymous person who first posed the question. I wanted to flee, perhaps find a nice cave with internet access to live in. It consumed my thoughts for several days, until I finally asked the question: What is a fiery dart designed to do?

The answer is simple - to move my attention from God's business to myself...my wounds, my pain, my ego, my response, etc. I have said before,

"I think that we, American Christians, have too much time on our hands. If we have time to nurse our petty offenses, to think of shoulds that even God missed, to put people in their rightful places, then we are missing out on the glory and the intent of the gospel."

And here I was, nursing my petty offense, completely oblivious to the hurting world around me. For a brief period, one dart rendered me completely ineffective for the kingdom of God. This life is short. Eternity is not. I want my life to count more for eternity than it does for the here and now. I have no time to waste on my own minor wounds.

Does it still hurt? Absolutely. Do I still want to flee? To leave the church never to return? You betcha. I'd like to think I would do fine, just me and Jesus. The problem with that thinking is that Jesus really loves His bride, the church. He is passionate about her. How can I claim to love Jesus and shun His bride? How can I turn inward and ignore the pain around me?

I can't. That's not who I was created to be. All I can do is work on pleasing Jesus and trust Him to heal my hurt and guard my heart. He is faithful to do just that.

Grace

2010-12-02T11:33:00.000-05:00

Republishing something I wrote a long time ago, but needed to hear again.

Many years ago, the Lord ministered His grace to me and I was set free from legalism. I’d been saved since I was only four years old and grew up in the church. Somewhere along the way, I bought into the lie that I had to follow a set of rules to earn the favor of God. If I did everything right, I would have smooth sailing. When He set me free, my whole world changed. Reading the Word became a delight instead of a drudgery.

Recently, the Lord in His mercy, showed me that, gradually, I had retreated back into the legalistic cell He’d rescued me from. I’d adopted a "Jesus-plus" doctrine:

Jesus + daily devotions
Jesus + a clean house
Jesus + well-behaved children
Jesus + being on time for church

These would make me righteous and earn me the blessings/favor that I don’t deserve. I don’t think I’m the only convert of this doctrine. I think that we are attracted to legalism because we like to check boxes. It’s familiar, it’s visible, and it’s easy to apply it to everyone else. If I hold my "what not to do list" up to your life, I might find that you don’t measure up and that would make me feel sooo much better. It’s comfortable. But it’s nowhere near the abundant life that Jesus offers in John 10:10.

The problem with Jesus-plus doctrine is that Jesus plus anything equals bondage; it’s a death sentence. (Gal. 3:10 All who rely on observing the law are under a curse,) Paul said it best, "Oh foolish Galations! Having begun in the Spirit, are you now made perfect by the flesh?!" You can almost here him saying, "REALLY?! How’s that working out for you?" The Word is also clear that "there is no one righteous. No, not one."

It’s Jesus alone that makes me righteous. It’s Jesus alone that gives me life. It’s Jesus alone that sets me free. I don’t have to do anything to earn it. He doesn’t require me to do anything. He just wants me to be. To be, in Him, the woman He’s created me to be. Here’s the kicker: He’s the ONLY one who gets to decide who that is. My fellow box-checkers out there don’t get a vote. My foolish pride doesn’t get to weigh in. Even my dim, limited view of the future doesn’t limit Him.

It’s time to stop doing ………………………. and start being!

Fretting

2010-10-10T16:16:00.000-04:00

Last week, on an exceptionally crazy Tuesday morning in which we overslept and had the speech therapist coming at 9am, I cracked my Bible open to Psalm 37. (I've been trying to read the Word more than just my weekly personal study time at Panera, but haven't been very successful, so I put a Bible in the bathroom. Great trick! )

Anyway, I read the first seven verses which are pretty familiar when all of a sudden...BAM! The second part of verse 8 practically leaped off the page at me. Do not fret - it only causes harm. Ps. 37:8b

I had been fretting all morning, snapping at my kids, stressing out because the house wasn't clean enough for company, etc. I took that rebuke with me as I re-entered the fray. Each time I was about to open my mouth, that verse popped into my brain, causing my mouth to instantly shut. Don't fret - it only causes harm. Don't fret - it only causes harm.

I have kept it with me all week. Turns out, I spend about 75% of my day fretting, mostly in the form of unintentionally rhetorical questions:

Who turned on the heat?!
Who left the milk on the counter?!
Who left the gate open?!
How many times do I have to tell you to brush your teeth?!
Do you want a time out?!
Why don't you have any clothes on?!

These questions serve no purpose other than for me to feel better for having blurted them. No one will own up to the above and even if they did, it wouldn't solve the problem. It's simply fretting and it does no good. In fact, it causes harm.

My children feel guilty. I become unsafe to them as I storm around and fret. It increases my anger and frustration when no one confesses to the truth. It keeps me focused on myself.....my problems, my frustrations, my workload, etc.

Do not fret - it only causes harm. This verse is freeing up my time and my energy and allowing me to focus on that which is good. Praise God for His goodness in showing me His heart and in changing mine!

In passing

2010-09-29T15:48:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, it's the words spoken in passing that have the largest impact. The other night, we went to hear a guest speaker at our church. He had inspiring and challenging words for us, his audience. My spirit resonated with his teaching. But, that's not what challenged me the most.

Early in the service, he had an alter call for those that needed/wanted victory in some area of their lives. I went forward, feeling like I am 1 step forward & 2 steps back on this parenting journey. As he was praying for the group, he said something that is almost a cliche in prayers. He said, "As they stand in agreement with you..."

Immediately, those words shot through me and penetrated my soul and instantly, I realized, "I am not in agreement with God about parenting."

The lies I have believed in this area are many. First, and foremost, "These kids are interrupting my life." Or, "These kids are a burden, not a blessing." Scripture is clear. God views children as a gift and a blessing. (Ps. 127:3) I have often stated that I believe they are a blessing, but that they don't often bless me, but, somewhere along the way, I began to see them as a pain in the rear. I forgot that they are not accessories to my world, but they are my world in this season.

I have believed, "This is too hard for me." Not being a real organized or Type A person, home management is difficult for me without children. Add in a boatload of kids and it seems very close to impossible. When He changed my heart about children (we were planning to stop at two), I admit that I envisioned the serene families that grace the covers of the homeschooling magazines. I really thought that He would change my personality to one that would excel as a mom of many. I expected it would be challenging; I did not expect it to suck every ounce of flesh out of me, only to go deeper and find some more. With the rest of Christianity, I say I want to die to self, but I don't actually mean it.

Going along with the last one, I believed, "I've been duped." This is not what I signed on for. I agreed to have many, well-behaved, exceptional children. I did not agree to have children with ADHD, dyslexia, dysgraphia, anxiety disorder, and Down syndrome. For that matter, I didn't even agree to have children with a sin nature. They are often mouthy, disobedient, and slothful. Basically, they take after their mother. Parenting is hard. I keep thinking it should be easier and am always frustrated that it's not.

I need to renew my mind and immerse myself in the Word until I am convinced, with every fiber of my being, that my children are a blessing, that I can do all things through Christ, and that He who called me is faithful. Basically, I need to get in agreement with God.

Funny thing about obedience

2010-09-08T15:41:00.000-04:00

In February, we felt pretty convicted that God wanted us to get rid of Direct TV. Actually, I think we thought we were supposed to before that. February is just when we finally discussed it with each other. We decided to go for it. Only, instead of canceling, I asked them to bump us down to their most basic package, thinking it would be basically network tv only. It wasn't. It was all their kid's channels and a few channels we didn't watch. After two weeks of watching tv just as much as we did before, only stuff we didn't actually like, Shawn called and got our old package back...at a reduced rate. Sigh.

We justified it by acknowledging that we don't watch much television in the summer and soon our viewing would be a distant memory as we spent our time outside. Only, it was one of the hottest summers on record and we actually watched more than ever because it was too miserable to be outside.

During this time, there were two distinct areas in my life that I was praying/begging/pleading to have break through in. I begged God. I quoted every relevant Scripture I could find. I humbled myself. I asked for wisdom. I had others pray. I cried...a lot. I played worship music. I rebuked the enemy. All of it was to no avail. There was no change and I was beginning to believe that there never would be. This was my life, and I was miserable.

Three weeks ago, Shawn decided that we would finally cancel our tv subscription and that we wouldn't even bother hooking up the box to get network, either. Thinking of the midnight nursing sessions with the new baby I have to look forward to, I was less than encouraging of this plan. I cried a little and even had a small panic attack when I thought about not having the opportunity to collapse in front of the tv every evening. I told him he would have to make the call. He did and was assured that everything would shut down at midnight. We stayed up until then watching all the shows in our DVR that we could fit in as a last hurrah.

I admit to being mopey about it for about the first week. But something strange has happened in the following weeks: the two areas of my life that needed break through, have gotten it. In His mercy, He has chosen to give me what I begged him for! I have seen new life after months of dormancy.

He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Psalm 40:2 &3 (NIV)

More than I can chew

2010-08-05T17:40:00.001-04:00

What happens when you find you've bitten off more than you can chew? When life is overwhelming and you cannot even see to take the next step, nor do you have any clue what that step should be?

After waiting for quite awhile for it to pass, I am starting to accept that overwhelmed is my new address. This is where I live. With one child with acceptable special needs and another with behavioral special needs, plus all the other "normal" kids with their less than stellar attitudes and regular needs, I am undone. Add in pregnancy hormones and symptoms and I am barely functional.

No one understands. When I try to explain the heartache, frustration, and helplessness I feel parenting the child with behavioral problems, I feel judged or the situation is minimized. Some would have me "lay down the law" without ever seeing firsthand the raw fear that crosses his face when he is in a rage. Some tell me they've "been there, done that" and their kid outgrew it, solidifying for me my suspicion that they have no clue what I'm talking about. The emotional exhaustion I feel after dealing with him, or the fear I have that I can't keep all of us safe in the middle of it, remain unnoticed by those in my circle.

Disorganization is my norm. Chaos is starting to rule. I am beginning to believe that successfully doing this (my life) is impossible. I am at a loss.

At this juncture, the only thing I know to do is humble myself before the Lord. He has promised grace to the humble and I so desperately need grace.

Courage and Trust

2010-06-24T18:04:00.000-04:00

I just found out that courage and trust are to be the topics of the next church women's retreat. I have grappled with those two things more over the last year and a half than in the previous 38 years combined, and yet, I am no closer to understanding them now than I was before.

It takes a special kind of courage to hear the specialist tell you there might be something wrong with your baby and then face 5 more months without knowing if he's right because you refuse to jeopardize the baby's life for your need to know. It takes a special kind of courage to hear, mere minutes after his birth, that, indeed, he does have an untreatable condition and your life will never be the same, and then to plant a smile on your face and accept the challenge so that no one will be negative about your beautiful baby.

That same kind of courage is needed to hand your amazing son, your heart, over to the doctor for heart surgery without certainty that he'll return alive. It's needed to smile when people say amazingly stupid and thoughtless things time and time again. It's necessary when your friends are rejoicing that parenting is just a season, and you know that for you, it is likely a lifelong venture without an earthly end.

It takes courage to finally accept that you cannot change your child, and instead choose to change the world in which he lives.

It takes a special kind of courage to decline the screenings in your next pregnancy and stand on principle that God is forming this life, too, especially when you now know all the things that could've gone wrong, but didn't, last time.

It is a courage that I don't possess.

It is a complete mystery to me. I don't own it. I don't hold it in my hand. I can't conjure it up at just the right moments. It has just been there. At the time, it didn't feel like courage at all...more like fear, dread, or discomfort mixed with a compulsion to do what's right.

I don't know where it comes from, but I suspect that trust might be the answer. Without a deep-seeded heart knowledge that God has your back, He loves you, and His ways are perfect, you are simply left with fear.

Fear without trust has no functional component. There is a compulsion with fear alone, but it is usually unproductive...to escape, to stand still, to retreat. Without trust, it never compels you to do the right thing, just the easiest thing.

Courage isn't like that. It doesn't dismiss the fear or pretend it's non-existent; it uses the fear to propel you forward to take action, to accept what's to come, to face the unknown.

I wish I did have courage. I wish I could own it, could pull it out at will. Then the dark days - the days when reality sucks the life out of any vision that I had - wouldn't send me to wallow in self-pity. Those are the days that I need to spend less time trying to conjure up something I don't possess and spend more time focusing on the One in whom I put my trust.

The Journey

2010-03-08T15:00:00.000-05:00

I like road trips. There is something about hitting the open road that appeals to me. I'm not necessarily a fan of taking them with six children, to be sure, but when I'm alone or with my husband, there is nothing better. I love the newness of stopping to get snacks from the gas station, listening to my favorite music (for more than one song), enjoying a People magazine (if I'm not driving), and just watching the world go by.

There comes a point in every trip when the newness wears off, my back starts to hurt, the coffee has run through me, the sugar buzz is over, and if I have to hear that darn cd one more time... It is time to take a pit stop, eat some protein, drink some water, stretch, and run in place. It is time to take a break, to regroup, to refresh.

And so it is in my spiritual walk. The Lord calls me to a task...have a boatload of children, or homeschool, or raise a special child...and I run with gusto to complete it. I am excited for the journey. I am blessed just to be chosen.

After awhile, my strength begins to wane. I am tired, uncomfortable, and just a little cranky. The newness has worn off and I begin to wonder why I left home in the first place. This is not the journey I thought I started off to take.

I need a pit stop. It's time to take a break, to regroup, to refresh.

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Galations 6:9

2010-03-02T15:25:00.000-05:00

I feel it again...that stifling, caged, not-good-enough feeling I get when legalism is being heaped on me. I'm so grateful that I can recognize it now and don't need to live there anymore.

I wonder why we do this. Why do we insist on listing rules and taking away grace and replacing it with burden. Freedom is so beautiful, I think it must be painful for some to see. They are blinded by what they do not understand and respond harshly to the person who's reflecting it. Because they've not tasted it, they fear that no one should.

Should.

That's how legalism is packaged...all bundled up in neat little shoulds. You should do this, you should do that, and you, most certainly, should NOT do that. If you live a different life, free from the package that was presented to you, then, sadly, you have missed the mark. But don't worry, I am certain that some more "mature" member of the Body of Christ will be watching and will be more than willing to put you in your place.

I think that we, American Christians, have too much time on our hands. If we have time to nurse our petty offenses, to think of shoulds that even God missed, to put people in their rightful places, then we are missing out on the glory and the intent of the gospel.

There are some who feel that I am a sinner. They would be surprised to discover that I agree. As the t-shirt reads, "I am the wretch the song was talking about." I am a reprobate sinner completely without hope apart from Jesus Christ. The cell of bondage is my rightful home. Without Jesus, that is where I'd dwell. I did dwell there for many years, long after I met Him, even. I ventured out of my cell but not very far and for not very long before returning to my place of twisted comfort.

But, now I'm free. That freedom cost something...something precious, and, until I was willing to truly embrace the cross, a prisoner I remained. I will be attempting to repay that debt, without success, until the day I die.

And I will not be dragged back into the cell of bondage, even by well-meaning Christians who refuse to leave.

Oh Jesus, come quickly

2010-02-17T15:13:00.000-05:00

I just read a blog post about The Family Guy and Sarah Palin's response to the show's treatment of a character with Down syndrome. Palin seemed more upset over the fact that the character stated her "Mom is the former governor of Alaska" than anything else. I don't know what I think of all of that, BUT, one of the commentors on the blog post wrote, "Oh Jesus, come quickly."

Something in my spirit just went "grrrrrrrrrr." Really?! We're calling for Jesus to come quickly because we're offended by something on television? Never mind that babies are being killed in utero, children with special needs are being abused and neglected to death, children are being trafficked into the sexual slave trade, and thousands of children are being orphaned and left to fend for themselves by AIDS in Africa. But, don't worry about all of that. We want a free pass out of here in America, because someone might say something that will hurt our feelings.

Most people say that when they see evidence of evil or injustice in this world, and I can't help but think, "If this is the only evidence of evil or injustice we Christians in this country notice, then we need to get out more." There is something seriously wrong with a soul that wants to throw in the towel because of something they watched on FOX television.

I'm just sayin'.

2010-01-23T19:10:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure what this is...this thing that's welling up inside of me. I cannot put words to the level of emotion I'm experiencing on a daily basis. My heart is stirred and I have no explanation. I don't know what He is doing, but I know that my life will never be the same.

My heart is broken for all the hurt and injustices and need in the world. The plight of the children with Ds on Reece's Rainbow are at the crux of my broken heart. Those children need to be rescued before their time is up. Proverbs 24:11 says "Rescue those who are unjustly sentenced to death. Don't stand back and let them die." I take that seriously and yet, throwing money at the problem doesn't seem like the answer. Maybe I say that because I have so little to throw.

Adoption is so strongly on my heart and I believe there will one day be fruition of that desire. Today is not that day.

Those who have survived the sex slave trade and are desperately trying to make a new life weigh heavy on my heart, too. As do those surviving the AIDS crisis in Africa and those traumatized by the quake in Haiti. So, so many needs. All halfway around the world.

Why am I not seeing the needs in my own backyard? Why is my heart the heaviest over things I can do nothing or little about?

These are the questions that keep me awake at night.