Sunday, January 28, 2018

Hope For Sale

Here's the thing about hope:  you can think it's lost.

You can ask me how I know. 

You can grow impatient in the waiting. Tired of the soul fighting.  Pained because of  battle wounds.  You feel forgotten.  Lost.  Helpless.  Hope vanquishes.  Once you feel hopeless in one area of your life, that hopelessness spreads.  It festers.  Chokes the living right out of you.

"To live without hope is to cease to live." -Fyodor Dostoevsky

Recently I was in my beloved Target.  The toddler was in need of new shoes.  He seemed to grow overnight and every pair at home no longer fit. So there he stood beside me in his worn out, too small shoes.  I was looking at shoes  while singing nursery rhymes to entertain him, and lost in thoughts of a morning conversation with a friend. "What if hope really is lost?" one of us asked.  We agreed, hope is never fully gone until the final breath is breathed.  Probably.

Right there in the shoe section, my boy decided to test his mommy.  He smiled first and then ran.  As I quickly grabbed his arm, I looked up.  Shoes that I had wanted to buy a few weeks before because of the cuteness factor were staring right at me.  Taunting me because this mama refuses to spend $24.99 on toddler shoes that won't fit in a couple months. Plus, it's been a week of unexpected expenses, so in an effort to support the man who supports us, unnecessary spending was not happening.

"Wook, Mama!  Wook at shoes!" He had spotted them, too.  "I want dose shoes!" 

I tried to get him to look at a less expensive pair.  He refused.  Sat down in defiance. 

"I WANT DOSE SHOES!"

I grabbed a pair for him to hold.  Anything to not cause a scene.  It was then I saw the glorious red tag covering the original price.  That tag that has convinced me to buy things I didn't need before because who doesn't love getting something that was $19.99 for $4.99?  I looked to see what the new cost was and almost laughed out loud.  Those $24.99 shoes were marked down to $7.48.  The two pair left hanging were not his size, but my boy was holding the pair that was. 

It's a good thing too, because he had already taken off his worn out shoes and I quickly realized he would walk no more without the new pair on his feet.

We walked around the rest of the store.  The toddler talking about his new shoes and grinning.  Me, grinning at my boy and thinking about my God.  He can take a silly pair of shoes and remind me of His goodness.  Of how He looks out for us.  He can gift me with the exact shoes we both liked for $17.00 less on the same week that we shelled out hundreds of dollars in repairs and suddenly hope springs eternal.  He reminds me that some things are worth the wait.  More special than if I choose to gratify a want right away.  

Sweet boy started to dance and sing:  

"I wike my shoes!  I wike my shoes!" 

His joy was contagious.  Strangers smiled. My heart soared. I almost texted my friend to tell her hope was on sale at Target for $7.48.

Some days hope feels lost.  Some days you find it in the shoe section at Target.  Truth is, ALL days His hope remains steady...even when we forget it's there.








Friday, January 19, 2018

Fresh Slates

A new year.  Fresh hopes.  New goals.  Big dreams.  Plans to live better.

So what happens when you're almost a full three weeks in and realize that the struggle has been a bit too real?  Routines have not been established.  Goals have not been pursued.  Dreams are nowhere closer to being fulfilled than they were on December 31st.  What happens when you have already grown weary of 2018 and are saddened that it doesn't seem to be shaping up to be any better than 2017?  What if you're lost in a sea of grief that still makes you feel as though you're drowning?  What if the habits you wished to get rid of followed you with ferocity when the clock struck midnight on January 1st?  What if your child is still sick and there is no hope of a remedy?  What if you are still battling cancer?  What if you are now jobless?  Newly separated?  What if the hope you had just a few days ago has waned?

What then?

My daughter was crying the other day because someone had walked in the one part of our yard that still had freshly fallen snow.  The rest of the snow in the yard had long been "messed" up with footprints and sled marks and remnants of snowball fights.  This portion, though, she planned to keep "beautiful."  

"Sweet girl, nothing lasts forever.  That beautiful snow is going to melt.  It will be gone in just a couple days.  This snow that has footprints and a snowman and all these marks will melt away, too. What will make you most happy about this day when you remember it later?  Will it be the snow that remained beautiful but that you never touched?  Or will it be the snow that you played in and laughed in and enjoyed?  The snow that made the memories is now not as pretty as the snow that you never walked in, but the memories will carry you through until the next snow fall."

I don't know if she really got it or not, but she stopped crying.  In that moment, I understood this:

Fresh slates are refreshing for the soul and beautiful to look upon. They quickly get mucked up with all that comes with living.  Some of the marks are harsh and sting much like a snowball to the face.  Sometimes you feel like your life is spinning out of control as quickly as you can sled down an icy hill.  There are those moments where you work hard toward your goals and build your legacy piece by piece - kind of like you make a snowman...and sometimes they fall apart much quicker than it took to built.  Other times, there are laughter and joy-filled moments that echo in your soul like the children's laughter echoed through our neighborhood on this winter wonderland-filled day.  There are bad moments and really bad moments.  Good moments and really great moments.  All these moments...all these marks on your slate tell a story of a life lived.  So don't give up if your slate seems "messed" up.  Don't think you need to wait for a new one.  Keep making your marks.  Dig in your heels when you start to slip.  Continue to scrape off the areas that have hardened with time.  Remember that what plagues you now will eventually not sting quite as much.  Cherish the moments that are worth savoring.  Learn from the moments that hurt.  And look up.  Look up to the One who holds the stars.

May the words of this Christian song ring true in your life in 2018:


If You can hold the stars in place
You can hold my heart the same
Whenever I fall away

Whenever I start to break

So here I am, lifting up my heart
If You can calm the raging sea
You can calm the storm in me
You're never too far away
You never show up too late
So here I am, lifting up my heart
To the One who holds the stars



Psalm 147:3-5
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name.
Great is our Lord and mighty in power; His understanding has no limit.










Thursday, January 18, 2018

Emoji Reminder

My mind is filled with thoughts that I want to write down.  So I open up a blank page.  Then my two sons start fighting over a Hokie bird.  We get distracted by a cardboard box and a game of running away from the "Box Man."  I return to my page to simply sign out.  Laughing to myself at thinking that I could ever write a post while my tribe is awake and bored and begging to go outside in the snow when it's not even 20 degrees out there yet.  Anxious thoughts of how to entertain these children all day start to come.  Then...then I see what's written below and while I don't feel like the "best" at anything these days...the sentiment is nice.  So as I go take care of a toddler who is now running around the house naked, my heart is filled with hope and joy and thankfulness for God using my 7-year-old girl and some emojis to remind me that these long days of loving on littles who all have minds of their own is not for naught.

I love you mommy you are the best. Love Addi!❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁❤😁!

Thursday, December 14, 2017

Those Extraordinary Ordinary Moments

He dances and lifts his toddler hands as he watches his favorite worship band.  Each day the words that flow from his mouth while he sings are easier to understand. Extraordinary ordinary.

The little girl who gave her grief for weeks is now one of her "favorite best friends." Sweet, second-grade toothless smiles shine bright when they're together. Extraordinary ordinary.

He works so hard to provide well for our family and wanted to replace our 18" TV that was starting to lose color but it was super low on our priority list. Someone who didn't know his wish decided to gift us a 48" TV in great condition.  Extraordinary ordinary.

He was in tears because his prized football from his daddy was accidentally thrown on the roof of the school and there seemed to be no way to get it down.  Sweet friends who are like family found a way and celebrated in our sweet boy's joy.  Extraordinary ordinary.

I was cold and cranky this morning but texted some precious sisters in Christ and together we commiserated and laughed. Suddenly my load felt a little lighter.  Extraordinary ordinary.

Life is full of extraordinary ordnaries:

Young cousins who count down until the next time they see each other.

Sisters who find a way to communicate daily even through complicated schedules.

A husband who is more patient than his wife ever deserves.

A grandparent who delays surgery to make sure he can share Christmas with his grandkids.

Children who often teach their parents more than we teach them.

Neighbors who always make sure to wave.

Friends who check in often.

Playdates.

Family dinners after a long day.

Laughter that fills a house that love has made a home.

Extraordinary ordinary.  It infiltrates our lives.  Yet, for this stubborn, feisty, and a little weary human, it's sometimes easy to look past the daily blessings and focus on the thoughts that seem to hinder me from praising God.  But He is so loving.  When I seek Him, I find Him.  When I look around me, I can see His hand in every detail.  I don't need grandios events to know He is with me.  Suddenly the "darkness" that once flooded my mind is filled with the light of His goodness.  And, while I am not sure who first coined this term, this, my friends, is extraordinary ordinary.



Friday, October 27, 2017

The Fall Birthday

The baby we lost almost three and a half years ago would have been born this week.  While lost in thoughts of the three-year-old Fall birthday party that will never be, I watched my toddler who was lost in a world of bubbles and wonder.  If not for that fateful day in May when God allowed the heart that beat inside of me for 84 days to suddenly stop, this boy wouldn't be.  How I long to hold that sweet one, but then I wouldn't know the joy of a little guy who will stop in the middle of a temper tantrum to comfort someone if they pretend their crying.  I desire so much to get to hold the hand that we saw waving to us during an ultrasound only days before we miscarried, but then I wouldn't know the feeling of holding my smallest buddy's hand as we take our daily walk around our neighborhood.  I always wanted an Autumn baby, but then I wouldn't get to plan an Easter egg hunt on the birthday of our boy who reminds us daily of the new life that comes with Spring.  I wish to see our three-year-old playing in the yard with our other children, but then I wouldn't see our curly-haired tot looking mischievously at his siblings as he tries to ride his tricycle into the road.  I wonder what our family pictures would look like with a baby who was born in late October, but our family pictures are so special with the baby born in the middle of April. Our family is complete...and yet, it'll never be fully complete.  I will always be the mama of more than three children...it's just that most people who see our kids pile out of our minivan will never know that.

Grieving for a lost baby can all be a bit too much to take in, which is why I finally realized this:  There's no point in wondering why anymore.  It just is.  We'll never know why God chose us to walk this road.  Why He chose our family story to hold an indescribable pain that 1 in 4 families can understand.  We don't feel we should have been spared from this journey. Why should we have been?  We just wish it was different sometimes. Like when our 7-year-old questions why she can't have that sibling here with her.  Or when thoughts of the little life gone way too soon takes us by surprise. Or when our six-year-old - who almost never speaks of his sibling in Heaven -  randomly said yesterday that he wants to see the stone where "Izzy" (their name for the baby) was buried.  There is no stone.  No place that "she's" buried. That hurts.  Deeply.

However, I truly believe that some of life's greatest lessons and some of our most "prized" pieces of wisdom often come at great cost.  It's almost never fun in the process.  It's not fun now.  Yet, if it wasn't for this loss, I wouldn't relate to the suffering of so many women.  Like the grief of a precious friend who is remembering the loss she experienced on the very day that the doctor had said I would most likely give birth to the one we lost.  Why people release balloons for children they never got to really know.  That it's OK to say nothing "encouraging" when someone loses a child and only offer prayers.  I wouldn't understand that prayer needs to be said for those who long to hold their babies more in the quiet, nighttime hours than in the lively, daylight hours.  I wouldn't know the loneliness that comes with grieving for the one you never got to hold.  The desire to have something more than just a pregnancy test or ultrasound picture of the one you will always love but never get to see.

So this weekend I'll release two balloons with no fanfare :  One for our precious gift from God and one for the babies that were taken far too soon from family members and friends of ours.  We'll eat a birthday cupcake.  I'll pray that maybe for a second God will let our little one hear me say, "I love you."  And as my toddler enjoys his bubbles, I'll thank God for the miracle of life.  For the gifts He gives and the gifts He takes away.  For how He turns pain into understanding.  Sorrow into joy.  I'll never "get over" this loss but it definitely looks different now than it did at first.  God has answered this mama's prayer to turn this verse into reality and my awe and wonder of Him bubbles forth:

 He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. - 2 Corinthians 1:4

Happy Birthday, Izzy!  You are cherished and loved for always.



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Monday, September 18, 2017

Be A Gideon

"Hi!  Hi!  Hi!  Hi!"  My toddler exclaimed just waiting for a reply.

The elderly man looked sad as he pointed to the hole in his throat and mouthed the words, "I can't talk." 

My sweet Gideon looked perplexed for about 2 seconds.  Then he walked over to the man, smiled and returned his wave.  I watched as he connected with his newfound buddy.  He never muttered another word, but instead would point to objects that he wanted the gentleman to see:  fliers with football players on them, the TV with Bubble Guppies on it, his water bottle, his shoes, the man's shoes, etc. The sweet man was so kind to smile and nod and look excited over everything that Gideon was showing him. The more he smiled, the more my Gideon beamed.  Far too soon, we were told our car was finished with its oil change.  As we began to exit the building, Gideon waved good-bye, walked out of the door, then backed up and looked at the man one more time through a glass door.  As the man tapped the door, Gideon held his hand on the other side right up to the man's hand...the only thing in between them was a few inches of glass.  The man looked touched and I grew teary-eyed as the lady behind the counter said through tears, "Well, Mr. Smith*, it looks like you've made a friend for life."  (*I can't actually remember his real last name).

It was a beautiful exchange made possible by a little boy who was willing to put aside how he normally communicates to show empathy with a man whose voice no longer remained.  He didn't ask why he couldn't speak.  He didn't gasp or point or laugh.  He didn't shy away from him.  He just noticed and responded with love.  Maybe it's because he can understand on some level.  Maybe in that man, he saw himself.  Gideon is somewhat behind on his speech skills.  He processes much more than he says, and sometimes he grows so frustrated trying to communicate what it is he wants me to know. And while he didn't know the reason the man was in the position he was in, it didn't matter.  He met him where he was at and together they shared a moment so beautiful that even strangers cried.

We all have stories.  We all have circumstances that have brought us to where we are.  In a society where pointing out differences is at an all time high, can we be a Gideon?  I don't mean the Gideons who make the Bibles.  I'm sure they're great, but I mean can we be like my son, Gideon?  Can we just take the time to meet others where they are at with no questions asked?  Can we love on them? Can we pray for them when they aren't even aware?  Can we put aside our well-meaning advice and just listen if they want us to?   Can we show compassion?  Can we look inside ourselves and find that point of connection with others?

Will you be a Gideon this week for my boy who struggles to say what he needs to with his mouth but speaks volumes through his heart?  Be a Gideon.  It'll make the world a little brighter for all.

"Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see."


Friday, September 1, 2017

I'm Glad God Made You This Way!

"Why did God have to make me this way?!"  My 7-year-old exclaimed following a frustrating experience at school.

I didn't respond right away.  I couldn't.  I was so choked up that I knew my words would sound incoherent.  I was thankful that I was driving and she couldn't see the tears that were rolling down my face.

How do you explain to a little girl - who is beautiful in every way - that she is perfect just the way she is?  That she doesn't need to be angry that God allows her to have white splotches on her legs and feet because of  a minor, yet untreatable skin condition?  How can I ensure that the confidence she has now won't be knocked down by children who are just trying to figure out their own place in life? How do I help her to rise above it?

As she waited for a response, I prayed that God would give me the words.  Thankfully, she got distracted by something her youngest brother did that was just "so cute."  I smiled as laughter filled the very mouth that had just spoken such discouraging words.

So, to my precious daughter...this is my response:

Dear Sweet Girl,

Do you know what makes you beautiful?

 It's your eyes.  They sparkle with life.  With passion.  With love.  You use those eyes to see injustices in this world so that you can try to figure out a way to help.  You use them to see the lonely one in class who needs a friend.  You use them to see when others need a hand so that you can pitch in.  You use them to see the beauty in this world...in things that this mama would never notice if you didn't first point them out.

It's your mouth.  Those beautiful lips sing praises to Jesus.  They speak encouragement to others.  They pray for the hurting.  They say things that make others laugh.  They utter words of joy and life, compassion and love, kindness and goodness.  They speak a lot and fill this house with energy and exuberance and cheer.

It's your feet.  They're not afraid to walk into the unknown.  They help you run towards greater things.  They lead you to your friends on the playground.  They dance at the sound of music.  They allow you to spin around whenever mommy or daddy twirl you.  They help you to leap into all that this life has to offer and you, sweet one, leap amazingly well!

It's your arms.  Those arms give the most wonderful, joy-filled hugs.  They pick up your baby brother and spin him around just so that he will giggle.  They help you do cartwheels and tumble.  They're attached to your beautiful  hands that love to write notes about how wonderful life is, how people are the "best ever," and how the sign about golf on the side of the road is "really neat."  Those hands draw bright, colorful pictures of you with your family, your friends, of rainbows and clouds, houses and animals.  They express  your creativity.  They pick weeds that you think are incredible flowers.  Those hands grab a hold of your brother's hands - your first best friend in this world - whenever you think he needs an extra dose of bravery.

It's your mind.  You are a thinker.  You want to know all the things.  You thirst for knowledge.  You think about how to make other people smile.  You think about ways to improve yourself.  You think about how we can make sure good always wins. You think about what to say to fill a conversation.  Your genuine curiosity and interest makes other people feel noticed.  That, sweet girl, is an amazing gift.

It's your heart.  You love deeply.  You care fiercely.  You have compassion and concern for the people who have lost everything because of the hurricane and for the family down the road who have lost their cat.  You have a kind heart that beats with love for others. You strive to make other people feel valued.  Your heart beats for all things Jesus, for your family, your friends and for the colors: pink, purple, mint-green, yellow, blue, etc. because  "they're all too beautiful to just pick one."

I could go on and on about what makes you beautiful on the inside and the outside, but the reality is this:  What makes you the most beautiful is that you were created in God's image.  God is good and kind and loving and strong and you are good and kind and loving and strong because of Him.  He has made you with such care that He can tell you how many hairs are on your head.  He loves you so much that He knows every tear you've ever shed. He created you to be like Him and, sweet girl, you are doing a most excellent job allowing Him to mold you and shape you into the most beautiful version of yourself.

Throughout life, this world will try to knock you down.  It will try to rob your joy.  Make you question your compassion.  It will try to confuse you and fill that beautiful mind of your's with anxiety and worry.   But, you don't need to let it.  Never wonder about your worth.  Never question your value.  Never forget where you came from. And always keep being who you are: You are a treasure.  You are a gift.  You are more beautiful than glitter and sparkles.  You are more amazing than double rainbows and large mountains.  You are sweet.  You are smart.  You are funny.  You are kind.  You are the perfect you.  THE PERFECT YOU. You are loved and cherished by so many.  Most importantly, you are loved by the very one who fashioned you while you were still in my belly.

So, sweet girl, why did God make you this way?  Because this world would be so dull if He hadn't.

I love you more than the Target clearance rack!

Love,
Mommy
XOXOXOXO!!!

*And the Target clearance rack is a joke between my girl and me.  She knows I love her unconditionally. ;)