Joy in the morning

Easter is hands-down my favorite holiday. It's a time of celebration - He is Risen! I love the beautiful church services, time with family, darling little girls in frilly dresses, and the fresh scent of spring in the air.

At Easter our church creates a prayer garden where we can meditate on Christ's work on the cross. It has three stations, including a place to lay a memento down that symbolizes a burden being given over to the Lord. The opportunity to reflect, give thanks, and ask for help is powerful.

Last year, however, it was difficult to find joy. On the morning of Good Friday we sat through a court hearing for our foster son where the judge seemed determined to hedge us out of his life by any means possible. It seemed certain that he would be pulled from our home and our arms forever. I took our daughters to the prayer garden later that day. All I could do was sit and weep. My prayer was just that God would help me to accept His plan, even if it meant saying goodbye to our precious little boy. The girls each brought a tiny toy car to leave as a symbol of their prayers for their little brother.

Later that day, Rob went to the prayer garden alone. He's my calm, steady rock. But when he saw those little cars among the stones in the garden he was broken.

It has been a year since that painful, tearful Good Friday. We are in awe of all God has done since then. He turned the whole course of the case in a new direction, and now we're nearly through with the adoption process. Other circumstances knocked us down over the last year--there were days I wasn't sure if I would be able to function or even breathe. But God gave me what I needed to not just survive those days, but to overcome and thrive as He carried me through.

My heart feels the heavy weight of all that my friends and loved ones are dealing with right now. Whether it's sickness, lost jobs, a strained marriage, or painful separation from someone dear, so many of us are frustrated, hurting, and afraid. It does not mean that God has become distracted or turned his back. He loves on, and on, and on. When he says he's here, he means it. When he says "weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning," it will. When he says he doesn't waste our pain, he won't.

Anyone who's spent much time in church has heard that God keeps his promises. I needed this last hard year to begin to understand that he truly does. And I learned that it's through pain that I get to see my Hero. My Champion. My Healer, Rescuer, and Friend that sticks close. Whenever I have to give up something here in this world, it's a chance to get more of him. And he is better than anything I will ever lose.

"I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord

in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord;

 be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord."

 (Psalm 27:13-14)

Four steps forward, one step back

Ten years ago, we had our fourth and final beautiful bundle with the birth of our daughter. We enjoyed every minute of her babyhood, but as she grew we moved past the life of strollers, cribs, high chairs, and sleeper jammies. Rob and I could head out the door for spontaneous coffee dates. Nobody needed help brushing their teeth or cleaning their rooms.  Everybody in the house could sleep through the night and hold a coherent conversation. We were living the life of parents with "big kids".

Then, three years ago we turned our lives upside-down by welcoming a tiny baby boy into our lives. As new foster parents we believed the story we were told in training that most foster cases wrap up in a year or so. Silly us. Our little guy stayed...and stayed...and stayed. For over three years. And here he is today, almost our forever son through adoption.

We gave our hearts away to our little boy the moment we held him in our arms. We had no idea that he would be a gift from God that would change our lives forever. And we never expected to find ourselves back in the life of parents-of-babies again. Yes, we miss some of the convenience and flexibility we used to have. We sigh as we deal with potty training, car seats, and illogical mood swings one more time. But we also have more laughter and awwww moments than we could have any other way.

The comments people make are true:
"Boy, you have your hands full." Yep, and our hearts are full too.
"They keep you young, don't they." Yes--we get to remember how to play and laugh about the little things and take life at a child's pace.
"He's going to pass you up any day now." Yes. I'm short. He's tall. I think I'll be looking up to him when he's eight. It's all good.

We're nearly done with diapers and we're shopping for a bed to replace the crib. The high chair is back in storage. Life with big-kids-only is back on the horizon. But I'm so thankful for these last three years--one more chance to cuddle up and marvel over the little milestones. It's been worth every minute.

A Happy Anniversary

Today marks 22 years of marriage to my best friend, Rob. I am truly loved. And that word, love, means so many things beyond romance and flowers and warm-fuzzy-feelings:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy,

it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude,

it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered,

it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight

in evil but rejoices with the truth. 

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes,

always perseveres. Love never fails.

(1 Corinthians 13:4-8)

 

Rob is patient with the messes, mood swings, and mistakes he's had to put up with for all these years! He would have every right to be "rude" or "easily angered" when I've failed for the thousandth time. He doesn't store up a list of my weaknesses, ready to throw them in my face when I've disappointed him again.

 

Instead, he "always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres." He cheers me on, believing I can tackle that pile of work, write that book, lose that weight, overcome that ugly emotion, and be that person who God says I am in Christ. His optimism and confidence in me hang in there even when I'm giving up on myself.

 

Rob doesn't let "evil" and "envy" creep in and spoil our marriage. He's doesn't keep score of which of us has the most free time, who spent more money on new clothes, or who's better at this and that and the other thing. He keeps it clean with his language and humor and the type of entertainment we enjoy. He doesn't stare at other women or compare me to anyone else.

 

Finally, he protects me. He works hard to provide for my needs, guards my feelings, and holds me tight when life is overwhelming. He locks up the house before bed and makes sure my car's running right. He prays for me. He makes me feel safe.

 

I'm looking forward to celebrating our anniversary with a date and presents, cards and kisses. But I'm looking forward even more to what's ahead--more years of this beautiful, real-life love that he gives me every day.



Twenty!

Just thinking about tomorrow makes me smile--it's my son's 20th birthday and the anniversary of the day I became a mom for the first time. And I'm not just smiling because of all the memories coming to mind of his adorable childhood. It's realizing how much I really, really like the man he has become.

First of all, he has great hair. And gorgeous eyes like his dad. He spends hours each week at the gym and it shows. Yep, my boy is good lookin'.

Second, he reads, plans, and dreams. Which makes him great to talk to because there's always a new idea or possibility cooking in his brain. He's motivated and interesting, and I never know what might be on his mind when he stops by to chat.

Third, he has a high comfort level with saying "I love you." No one in our family ever has any doubt that we matter to him. He gives great hugs. I'm a compulsive hugger so that is big stuff to me.

I'm really proud of him for all he does, but I'm even more thankful for who he is. My life is more beautiful because he's in it. 

Happy birthday, Josh. I love you with all my heart.
--Mom

Girls, unplugged

     A couple of our girls have been struggling to manage their time and their stuff. Rob and I have scolded, complained, and given mild consequences to try to turn their sloppy habits around. This week, a trip up to their bedroom to change the bedding pushed us over the edge! The mess was all you can imagine a tween and teen girl could create and then some--we decided enough was enough.

     The discipline we imposed was to remove the privilege of using the computer, their iPods, and our Kindle for a while. Perhaps "unplugging" from the Internet will free up their attention to focus better on reading, chores, and studying. One thing is for sure--it got their attention!

     We have been loving the changes we're seeing already. And it hasn't been in how tidy or studious they've been, either. It's in the sudden burst of creativity as they fill their time with new craft projects. And the laughter in the house as the girls spend more time connecting with each other. There's more snuggling on the couch with us at the end of the day. Today found them playing out in the snow with their little brother and cooking up some good stuff in the kitchen.

     We intended to bring some discipline into their lives, but Rob and I have found we needed some correction too. Going forward, we can see we should be setting better boundaries around their screen time. We will be taking more trips to the craft store to keep the creativity flowing. And we'll unplug more often ourselves to enjoy time together.
     How does your family balance your time watching TV and going online? Ideas, please!

You might not want to come over...

My girls and I have caught a sloppy, sneezy, achy winter cold. The vaporizer is misting and the asthma nebulizer is humming. I'm downing hot coffee and ibuprofen. My five senses are dropping off one by one--I can't hear because my ears are plugged, and we can't smell or taste much. Our house is just one big petri dish of germs.

It's probably best that Rob has an office to run to this week! It seemed somewhat of a miracle that he actually walked through the door last night, willing to face the hacking and sneezing and piles of Kleenex all over. If anything lets me see Jesus in my husband, it's being sick.

Rob did the dishes, took out the trash, picked up every toy, bathed the little guy and tucked him in. I woke up to blissfully clear countertops and floors. The trash cans are empty so there's room to throw away the thousands of tissues we're using today.

Best yet, he didn't seem to notice how not beautiful I was last night. He didn't mention the lack of makeup, the baggy eyes, or the bedhead hair. He let me get close enough for a few hugs. I wasn't kicked out of bed to go sleep with a coughing, sneezing daughter--he even let me put my icy feet on his to stay warm.

Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." (Mark 2:17) Just like Rob didn't run away from the girls and me in all our germy ickiness, but he drew close to care for us and show his love, Jesus doesn't turn away from us in our sin. Instead, he's drawn to the ones who need him the most. He is fully aware of the germs of rebellion and stubbornness in our hearts. He came into this world to be close to us--to be one of us--and bring us total healing.

Be well!

Potty Ponderings

This is yet another morning of potty training at our house. Another morning of soggy socks and a half-naked cutie running around the living room. Another morning of skipping, excitement, and popsicle rewards when he’s “produced.”

What’s different today, though, is that instead of just a potty and a little kid trying to “get it”, I’m seeing myself. How many areas of maturity have I resisted and messed up and taken forever to get a handle on?

My little boy struggles to coordinate pulling off his airplane underwear and sitting down in time, but I’ve struggled to meet deadlines and organize my household well. Knowing what I ought to do doesn’t always match what I actually do. And just as my son has to practice again and again, each morning is another merciful opportunity to serve my family a little better than yesterday.

Five minutes ago the little, um, darling left a stinky mess on my fresh new area rug. How many times have I dumped harsh criticism all over my handsome-funny-brilliant husband? Or unloaded rants and rages on my three beautiful daughter-treasures? I know he didn’t mean to make another poopy mess, any more than I ever meant to lose control of my words and emotions. But it has happened and it’s ugly.

My son has all dignity removed when he’s stripped down, wiped up, and bare for all the world to see. God has done his best work in my heart and life when I’ve been laid bare too. Painful, humiliating failure has brought me to my knees before a God who loves me and lifts me up again. Having my weakness blown up so huge that I can’t possibly deny it has taught me to cling to my Strength—my heavenly Father who promises to grow me up and make me clean.

I will keep on potty training my son. We will plug our noses over the stink and do happy dances over every success. I’ll hug him, reward him, and never give up believing he’s going to beat this thing. And I’ll rejoice that my Father loves me just like that—He is going to stick with me until I look like Jesus.

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. (James 1:2-4)