So, I sobbed at church tonight. It was the kind of get-the-tissue, my-shoulders-are-shaking, I-couldn't-speak-even-if-I-wanted-to tearfest. It was both embarrassing and really, really theraupeutic (as most cries are).
The sermon was from Matthew 5, and the central message was the freedom that can be found at the cross. In Matthew 5, Christ says that if we are not as righteous as the Pharisees, we cannot enter the kingdom of heaven. That is disturbing news because we can never be as perfect as the Pharisees of Christ's day, who followed the 600+ commands of God with zeal. Christ, however, was showing us that He brings a different righteousness; a righteousness that does not come from doing everything right on the outside, but that comes from resting in the work that Christ did on the cross.
And, then we had our church's first "altar call" in eight years. Watching those who had been enslaved to sin in their lives publicly claim the cross and find freedom definitely put a little tear in my eye. It is always remarkable, if not incredible, to see God at work, and in those moments, I am reminded of the freedom He has so graciously given me.
Right when I was holding it all together, the words of one of my favorite hymns flashed on the screen-
"Weary, burdened wanderer,
There is rest for thee.
At the feet of Jesus,
With your love so free."
And that's when I lost it. I don't always lose it on that song, but this week was different.
A few weeks ago, a little boy was delivered to the orphanage with which we work. Apparently, he has no history and no family. He was a street kid, in an urban setting where street kids litter the city looking for food and shelter. Suddenly, with those words, I was struck with the image of a city of kids trying to find food in a place where those who work find it difficult to eat; I was grieved by the image of children sleeping on streets night after night with no shelter or blanket or pillow; I lamented those kids who live constantly alert for protection of their own lives; and I mourned that they have no one to hold or comfort them. They have to be so weary, so burdened, so lost and void of hope.
(*Just a caveat: In October, when we received our adoption paperwork, we learned that all of the information above was not true. Our little boy did have a birth mother. Apparently, his father is deceased, and the mother is ill. She had allowed him to go to an orphanage because she was not well enough to take care of him. I leave the text above because (a) it reflected my emotions at the time, and (b) I am sure it is true of other children. If you would like to see what happened with the birth mother, the posts in July '13 do a better job of explaining that information).
Two weeks ago, we heard from the organization with which we work. The little street boy was being referred to our family. The Lord brought him to that orphanage, and we get the incredible honor and duty of answering the question: "Do you want to give him rest?"
We have decided to answer that question with a peace-filled, open-handed, "Yes!" We have some months of waiting ahead of us, and then some months of difficult transition for us all, but we can't wait to get him home. To feed his belly, so it no longer knows hunger. To bathe his body, so that it can be free of disease. To pillow his head, so that it can know a night of restful sleep. To teach his mind, so that it can reach its full potential.
But, most importantly, we want to love this little boy unconditionally, so that He can see the free love lavished on Him by His Father and know Him deeply.
Thanks for following us on this journey. We are hopeful that the Lord will bring this good work in us to completion. And, we pray that if you are weary or burdened or wandering, may your soul find rest.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Sunday, August 19, 2012
The Dog Days are Done . . .
The kids and I spent our last day of summer together at Denton Water Works (I highly recommend, by the way). They went down slides, hung out in the lazy river, jumped off diving boards and got splashed by a ton of fountains and spray things. I am constantly amazed at the progress that has occurred in water-play engineering since I was a kid, swimming in the large community pool surrounded by a decrepit chainlink fence. Friday was a wonderful ending to the longest summer I can remember.
We did a million things, and because where we live rocks, most of them were cheap or free: although you will quickly find that most places we went probably wish they had charged my crazy kids for access.
1. Kate had her birthday party at Zone Action Park (thank you Groupon). She wanted to invite her entire kindergarten class, and I quickly learned that kindergarten is when parents drop off at parties. I completely understand; I love the two hours of free babysitting that a birthday party provides. Besides being unable to find one child for an uncomfortably long time when his mom picked him up, and having to call a mom to see if her child had made it home (He did. WHEW!), I think it was a big success.
2. We took swimming lessons with Miss Sherry. Watson, who cried at the mere prospect of removing his floaties in May, was swimming to the deep end by the end of the summer. I see very little of swimming lessons, as I spend most of my time "getting to know" the other moms who get to sit poolside with me. I also might add that Watson also learned to ride his teeny bike this summer. It was a big summer for him.
3. We went to the Red, White and Blue Festival. Actually, we drove by and the parking lot was too full, so we went to our favorite little peninsula on the lake, waited for an hour, decided to drive off, and, just as would be expected, the fireworks started immediately when we left. We quickly found a cul-de-sac and watched. When I say "we", I mean Philip found one with me yelling, "Hurry! They're going to miss it!" in his ear. The kids made friends with another crew of preschoolers, and all of them found climbing over our car's hood and roof much for fascinating than the show. A day in the life with kids . . .a three-hour wait for five minutes of entertainment. Our town does the firework show the first weekend of June, but we also went to a high point to watch neighboring fireworks on the Fourth of July. That is until Watson ate the glo-stick, and we had to go home.
4. WE SWAM!! We swam at the pools (every one of them). We swam at friends' house (thanks Sylvester, King, McCurdy and Fernandez families). We swam with our families (thanks Walter and Joy and Emmy and Pops). We went to Old Town Aquatic Park, Sun Valley Aquatic Park and Denton Water Works (all within 15 minutes of the house). We even went out to the Chisholm Aquatics Center in Hurst, where the kids spent so much time on the slides, my best friend and I actually got to have an uninterrupted conversation (which we have not done in years). Yeah, Jill!
5. WE BOATED!! We were blessed to take two trips to Possum Kingdom Lake (thanks Phillips family), where the kids learned to jump off the roof of a boat dock (thanks Philip). And we got to go on several day trips to Lake Lewisville (thanks Griders). I actually swam in the lake and enjoyed it, wearing my life jacket diaper. One of the sweetest moments was when Watson fell asleep on the boat for an hour while I held him; it has been so long since I held one of my sleeping babies. Poor kid ending up with a vicious sunburn! I guess staring at the sky without moving for an hour will do that to you.
6. We hung out at the library. While I was a horrible reading teacher mom (we did not come close to reading our 24-hour goal), we did get some new picture books and TONS of movie fun! We even read a few Magic Treehouse books. CHAPTER BOOKS MAKE ME SO HAPPY! Unfortunately, the acoustic dome at the Lewisville Library does not. I am not sure if children yelling into the dome was the intended effect of such construction, but my children certainly think so.
7. We experienced STAR WARS. Thanks to the Purvis family and the Lewisville library, we watched the entire Star Wars series. I did not watch them as a kid, so I may have loved it more than the kids. Well, no one could love it more than Watson, who talks about it twenty-four hours a day and tries to turn everything into a light saber. Watson even found a Darth Vader mask at Kid-to-Kid for $10, and he likes to say, "I am your father" over and over again. He actually looks like the kid in the VW commercial, and that makes me smile.
8. We ate!! This was actually the most dangerous of all. At Chick-fil-A, Watson popped a balloon so loudly that the ENTIRE RESTAURANT took cover, and I do not exaggerate because even the manager said he ducked under the counter. That same day, a boy came running out of the playroom because another little boy punched him. Turns out the culprit was my Star Wars-crazed preschooler. And, I won't even mention the antics we had at Burger King . . .
9. We lost teeth. And, I mean we lost them. Kate has lost two teeth this summer (and one is hanging on by a disgustingly loose thread). When she lost the first tooth, she wrote the tooth fairy, "Please do not take the tooth but leave me a present." So, the sweet and wonderful tooth fairy did just that. What happened the next day when I dragged my two children through the metal detectors at the Denton Courthouse to get copies of our marriage certificate? The tooth was dropped in the center of a sea of white linoleum. There I was, on the floor of the courthouse, looking for A TOOTH! The security guards began to get worried, and we had to let it go. She cried, but it was better than mom getting questioned and detained.
10. We watched the Olympics. How incredible was it to watch the kids realize that the USA is a pretty cool place. While I am sure the "edited" programming made it look like we were the only team who competed, watching the medal ceremonies and hearing the Star-Spangled Banner over and over again made us all swell with pride. I loved hearing them say about the winner, "Is that our team?" and react in awe that we had won again.
One thing we did not do: NAP!!! There was one day Watson took a nap and another day Kate took a nap. But, they were certainly not the same day. We often saw 10 pm and rarely saw 7 am. We definitely need a vacation from our vacation, and I think school is just the thing! :)
We did a million things, and because where we live rocks, most of them were cheap or free: although you will quickly find that most places we went probably wish they had charged my crazy kids for access.
1. Kate had her birthday party at Zone Action Park (thank you Groupon). She wanted to invite her entire kindergarten class, and I quickly learned that kindergarten is when parents drop off at parties. I completely understand; I love the two hours of free babysitting that a birthday party provides. Besides being unable to find one child for an uncomfortably long time when his mom picked him up, and having to call a mom to see if her child had made it home (He did. WHEW!), I think it was a big success.
2. We took swimming lessons with Miss Sherry. Watson, who cried at the mere prospect of removing his floaties in May, was swimming to the deep end by the end of the summer. I see very little of swimming lessons, as I spend most of my time "getting to know" the other moms who get to sit poolside with me. I also might add that Watson also learned to ride his teeny bike this summer. It was a big summer for him.
3. We went to the Red, White and Blue Festival. Actually, we drove by and the parking lot was too full, so we went to our favorite little peninsula on the lake, waited for an hour, decided to drive off, and, just as would be expected, the fireworks started immediately when we left. We quickly found a cul-de-sac and watched. When I say "we", I mean Philip found one with me yelling, "Hurry! They're going to miss it!" in his ear. The kids made friends with another crew of preschoolers, and all of them found climbing over our car's hood and roof much for fascinating than the show. A day in the life with kids . . .a three-hour wait for five minutes of entertainment. Our town does the firework show the first weekend of June, but we also went to a high point to watch neighboring fireworks on the Fourth of July. That is until Watson ate the glo-stick, and we had to go home.
4. WE SWAM!! We swam at the pools (every one of them). We swam at friends' house (thanks Sylvester, King, McCurdy and Fernandez families). We swam with our families (thanks Walter and Joy and Emmy and Pops). We went to Old Town Aquatic Park, Sun Valley Aquatic Park and Denton Water Works (all within 15 minutes of the house). We even went out to the Chisholm Aquatics Center in Hurst, where the kids spent so much time on the slides, my best friend and I actually got to have an uninterrupted conversation (which we have not done in years). Yeah, Jill!
5. WE BOATED!! We were blessed to take two trips to Possum Kingdom Lake (thanks Phillips family), where the kids learned to jump off the roof of a boat dock (thanks Philip). And we got to go on several day trips to Lake Lewisville (thanks Griders). I actually swam in the lake and enjoyed it, wearing my life jacket diaper. One of the sweetest moments was when Watson fell asleep on the boat for an hour while I held him; it has been so long since I held one of my sleeping babies. Poor kid ending up with a vicious sunburn! I guess staring at the sky without moving for an hour will do that to you.
6. We hung out at the library. While I was a horrible reading teacher mom (we did not come close to reading our 24-hour goal), we did get some new picture books and TONS of movie fun! We even read a few Magic Treehouse books. CHAPTER BOOKS MAKE ME SO HAPPY! Unfortunately, the acoustic dome at the Lewisville Library does not. I am not sure if children yelling into the dome was the intended effect of such construction, but my children certainly think so.
7. We experienced STAR WARS. Thanks to the Purvis family and the Lewisville library, we watched the entire Star Wars series. I did not watch them as a kid, so I may have loved it more than the kids. Well, no one could love it more than Watson, who talks about it twenty-four hours a day and tries to turn everything into a light saber. Watson even found a Darth Vader mask at Kid-to-Kid for $10, and he likes to say, "I am your father" over and over again. He actually looks like the kid in the VW commercial, and that makes me smile.
8. We ate!! This was actually the most dangerous of all. At Chick-fil-A, Watson popped a balloon so loudly that the ENTIRE RESTAURANT took cover, and I do not exaggerate because even the manager said he ducked under the counter. That same day, a boy came running out of the playroom because another little boy punched him. Turns out the culprit was my Star Wars-crazed preschooler. And, I won't even mention the antics we had at Burger King . . .
9. We lost teeth. And, I mean we lost them. Kate has lost two teeth this summer (and one is hanging on by a disgustingly loose thread). When she lost the first tooth, she wrote the tooth fairy, "Please do not take the tooth but leave me a present." So, the sweet and wonderful tooth fairy did just that. What happened the next day when I dragged my two children through the metal detectors at the Denton Courthouse to get copies of our marriage certificate? The tooth was dropped in the center of a sea of white linoleum. There I was, on the floor of the courthouse, looking for A TOOTH! The security guards began to get worried, and we had to let it go. She cried, but it was better than mom getting questioned and detained.
10. We watched the Olympics. How incredible was it to watch the kids realize that the USA is a pretty cool place. While I am sure the "edited" programming made it look like we were the only team who competed, watching the medal ceremonies and hearing the Star-Spangled Banner over and over again made us all swell with pride. I loved hearing them say about the winner, "Is that our team?" and react in awe that we had won again.
One thing we did not do: NAP!!! There was one day Watson took a nap and another day Kate took a nap. But, they were certainly not the same day. We often saw 10 pm and rarely saw 7 am. We definitely need a vacation from our vacation, and I think school is just the thing! :)
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
The Sweet Spot!!
What a journey this has been. From April to May, we were speeding along, seeing an adoption by the end of the year as a possibility, only to find ourselves at a STAND-STILL this ENTIRE summer. Let's not focus on the fact that this summer would have been the PERFECT time for me to finish our paperwork. Why? Because my perfect time is not God's perfect time, and He is so good. Let me tell you why . . .
Just to give a little recap of the past few months:
Enter waiting game. Enter doubts that this was ever God's will. Enter questions about my own intentions and motivations. But, God is so good!
The night I posted the blog saying that we were putting on the brakes was tough for me. I really did not know how we would adopt now. It did not feel right going back to the other agency, and we were pretty convinced that the entire "process" was not for us. We wanted to be more involved; we wanted to know more; we wanted to be able to ask questions and be certain that we were making a wise decision, in every step of the process; we wanted to do what was good and right for the country and its people.
Over the entire course of this process, I have been emailing a sweet woman who runs an organization helping orphans in the DRC. At one time, they helped with adoptions, but it was clear based on our email contact, that this was no longer their focus. They wanted to be a voice for the orphans left behind, and I definitely respect that. So, on the night we said, "Stop!", I emailed her, thanking her for her advice and asking how we could help, if we chose not to go forward with adoption.
And, then we waited . . .
On July 25, I got a response (and I paraphrase): "We would love your support of orphans in the DRC. We occasionally coordinate adoptions if we have a referral from another family in our organization. Do you know anyone?"
My thoughts: I don't know anyone. *SIGH* Another door closed.
My reply (and I paraphrase again): "Pick me! Pick me! We will be nice to you; we will be nice to our child; we will be nice to the people of the DRC. Pretty please with cherry on top?"
Her response: "Maybe. Let's wait until winter."
My reply: "So, you're saying there's a chance? (taken from Dumb and Dumber, if you don't recognize) Can we do anything in the meantime? By the way, I am licensed to practice law here in Texas. Could I help you with the adoptions in some way?"
I stop here to discuss what a sweet moment of grace I am sitting in. I have been praying for adoption for a few months. But, I have been praying to use my law degree in a way that aligns with my passions for seven years. Is there any way the Lord could answer both prayers at the same time? Ah, yes. Because He is that good.
Her response: "Let's chat. When are you available this week?"
And, after tons of prayer, after several conversations where it is clear this organization is the perfect fit, and after a weekend of paperwork, we just found out yesterday that WE HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED. And, to see the joy in our house. I was cheering; the kids ran around hugging one another; even Philip expressed his elation (by smiling--those of you who know Philip know how elated he gets). :)
So, we are back on the road again. And, it feels so right. It's like we were trying to get somewhere, our GPS constantly saying, "Recalculating," in that sweet British accent that makes you want to hit it. Hard. And, then, right when we least expected it, we were placed on the right path. The organization will help us with the adoption, but we are involved in every step of the process. As I learn the process, I can help other adoptive families. We also get to learn of real needs of real orphans in the DRC from those working on the ground. And, there is a little boy on the other side of the world who just got a home. And he doesn't even know it yet.
And, to think, God has been orchestrating this whole thing, even amidst our frustrations and doubts. I cry out in awe of His goodness, His mercy, His faithfulness. More than anything, I hope this encourages you on your path. If we can pray for you in some way, please let us know.
Just to give a little recap of the past few months:
- April: picked an agency and got home study for that agency.
- May: could not sign with that agency, for no other reason than this nagging feeling that would not let us move forward.
- June: started with another agency that had a super-sweet boy waiting to be adopted. Changed home study to requirements of that agency.
- July: things fell apart (will not go into details for respect of all parties involved).
Enter waiting game. Enter doubts that this was ever God's will. Enter questions about my own intentions and motivations. But, God is so good!
The night I posted the blog saying that we were putting on the brakes was tough for me. I really did not know how we would adopt now. It did not feel right going back to the other agency, and we were pretty convinced that the entire "process" was not for us. We wanted to be more involved; we wanted to know more; we wanted to be able to ask questions and be certain that we were making a wise decision, in every step of the process; we wanted to do what was good and right for the country and its people.
Over the entire course of this process, I have been emailing a sweet woman who runs an organization helping orphans in the DRC. At one time, they helped with adoptions, but it was clear based on our email contact, that this was no longer their focus. They wanted to be a voice for the orphans left behind, and I definitely respect that. So, on the night we said, "Stop!", I emailed her, thanking her for her advice and asking how we could help, if we chose not to go forward with adoption.
And, then we waited . . .
On July 25, I got a response (and I paraphrase): "We would love your support of orphans in the DRC. We occasionally coordinate adoptions if we have a referral from another family in our organization. Do you know anyone?"
My thoughts: I don't know anyone. *SIGH* Another door closed.
My reply (and I paraphrase again): "Pick me! Pick me! We will be nice to you; we will be nice to our child; we will be nice to the people of the DRC. Pretty please with cherry on top?"
Her response: "Maybe. Let's wait until winter."
My reply: "So, you're saying there's a chance? (taken from Dumb and Dumber, if you don't recognize) Can we do anything in the meantime? By the way, I am licensed to practice law here in Texas. Could I help you with the adoptions in some way?"
I stop here to discuss what a sweet moment of grace I am sitting in. I have been praying for adoption for a few months. But, I have been praying to use my law degree in a way that aligns with my passions for seven years. Is there any way the Lord could answer both prayers at the same time? Ah, yes. Because He is that good.
Her response: "Let's chat. When are you available this week?"
And, after tons of prayer, after several conversations where it is clear this organization is the perfect fit, and after a weekend of paperwork, we just found out yesterday that WE HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED. And, to see the joy in our house. I was cheering; the kids ran around hugging one another; even Philip expressed his elation (by smiling--those of you who know Philip know how elated he gets). :)
So, we are back on the road again. And, it feels so right. It's like we were trying to get somewhere, our GPS constantly saying, "Recalculating," in that sweet British accent that makes you want to hit it. Hard. And, then, right when we least expected it, we were placed on the right path. The organization will help us with the adoption, but we are involved in every step of the process. As I learn the process, I can help other adoptive families. We also get to learn of real needs of real orphans in the DRC from those working on the ground. And, there is a little boy on the other side of the world who just got a home. And he doesn't even know it yet.
And, to think, God has been orchestrating this whole thing, even amidst our frustrations and doubts. I cry out in awe of His goodness, His mercy, His faithfulness. More than anything, I hope this encourages you on your path. If we can pray for you in some way, please let us know.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
The Irony of Fear
Today, a dear family friend lost his father to West Nile Virus. At 12:01 AM Paul Bellington, Sr., slipped out of his coma and went to be with the Lord. I met Mr. Bellington several times, and he was one of those older gentlemen who seemed to love life. He drove a beat-up van, wore gray hair and wrinkles, but nothing about his heart was old. He made jokes with my kids, asked questions like he was interested in the answers, and grinned from ear to ear no matter what you said. He was one of those people you just left his presence with that swollen, good-hearted, "I want to be like that guy" feeling.
We got to know Mr. Bellington through his son who shares the same name, Paul. Paul and his dad shared more than a name: they are both a complete joy to be around. Paul spent his childhood as a missionary on the Amazon River in Brazil, while his parents shared Christ in the rainforest of South America. Paul tells great stories of eating interesting rodents, catching terrible diseases, and living the vagabond life that comes with being a MK. Why? Because his father, Mr. Bellington, spent fifty years tabling his ideas of a "normal" life to share Christ with those south of our border. Every time we talked to Paul, his eighty-something-year-old dad was driving to Mexico to serve here, or back from Brazil sharing there.
That's why his death from a mosquito bite just minutes from where we live seems so devastatingly ironic. Not devastating for him . . .he is seeing Christ for the first time, basking in the glow of heaven . . .but devastating for me. I spend a great deal of my time motivated by fear. My fear is not the overt "I think I am going to have a heart attack", all-consuming terror (although I know tons of people who suffer from panic attacks that feel this way); my fear is more subtle. My fear looks more like, "Maybe I'll do that when the kids get older; what if something happened to me?" Or, "That area seems dangerous. What if I got mugged, or shot, or eaten by a bear?" Or, "Man, I really feel led to [fill-in-the-blank], but something happened to or I heard about someone who, and I just can't shake the nagging feeling . . ." Those are my fears; fears grounded in the what-ifs that stifle me from taking any step from safety. And, what's crazier? Nearly everything I fear will NEVER come to pass.
And, here is Mr. Bellington, who was moments from a mosquito bite that could give him malaria, inches from a person who had some fever or infection that may take his life, and right in the midst of unavoidable violence. Yet, the Lord protected him in that work for fifty years. He did not die from the disease and crime that are rampant in Central and South America; he died in suburban America, from exactly the same thing that may have deterred him from serving if he had let fear control his actions.
Part of me wants to say, "Now, we can't go crazy and just do dangerous things. We have a family." And, please don't get me wrong. (A) I don't want to move to a foreign country and throw all that I know here out the window. (B) I think those with minor children have some responsibility to be reasonable in their adventures. And (C) Not everyone in ministry is spared illness or death; the Lord uses all kinds of suffering to make His name known.
We got to know Mr. Bellington through his son who shares the same name, Paul. Paul and his dad shared more than a name: they are both a complete joy to be around. Paul spent his childhood as a missionary on the Amazon River in Brazil, while his parents shared Christ in the rainforest of South America. Paul tells great stories of eating interesting rodents, catching terrible diseases, and living the vagabond life that comes with being a MK. Why? Because his father, Mr. Bellington, spent fifty years tabling his ideas of a "normal" life to share Christ with those south of our border. Every time we talked to Paul, his eighty-something-year-old dad was driving to Mexico to serve here, or back from Brazil sharing there.
That's why his death from a mosquito bite just minutes from where we live seems so devastatingly ironic. Not devastating for him . . .he is seeing Christ for the first time, basking in the glow of heaven . . .but devastating for me. I spend a great deal of my time motivated by fear. My fear is not the overt "I think I am going to have a heart attack", all-consuming terror (although I know tons of people who suffer from panic attacks that feel this way); my fear is more subtle. My fear looks more like, "Maybe I'll do that when the kids get older; what if something happened to me?" Or, "That area seems dangerous. What if I got mugged, or shot, or eaten by a bear?" Or, "Man, I really feel led to [fill-in-the-blank], but something happened to or I heard about someone who, and I just can't shake the nagging feeling . . ." Those are my fears; fears grounded in the what-ifs that stifle me from taking any step from safety. And, what's crazier? Nearly everything I fear will NEVER come to pass.
And, here is Mr. Bellington, who was moments from a mosquito bite that could give him malaria, inches from a person who had some fever or infection that may take his life, and right in the midst of unavoidable violence. Yet, the Lord protected him in that work for fifty years. He did not die from the disease and crime that are rampant in Central and South America; he died in suburban America, from exactly the same thing that may have deterred him from serving if he had let fear control his actions.
Part of me wants to say, "Now, we can't go crazy and just do dangerous things. We have a family." And, please don't get me wrong. (A) I don't want to move to a foreign country and throw all that I know here out the window. (B) I think those with minor children have some responsibility to be reasonable in their adventures. And (C) Not everyone in ministry is spared illness or death; the Lord uses all kinds of suffering to make His name known.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Nine Things I Learned When I Could Not Talk to My Husband for Ten Days . .
My husband just returned from a mission trip to the Amazon River in Brazil. For 10 of the days, he had no phone access. That was the longest we have gone in 13 years without talking to one another. Through that process, I have learned a few things:
1. I am not as much a wimp as I thought I was. I have never lived alone. I had my parents, college roommates and then my husband. Actually, I have rarely spent a night alone. And, when I did, I would kind of panic. I would stay up until 2 am, listening for weird sounds and then fall asleep with my bedside lamp on. I was a weenie. But, 10 nights is a little long to stay at my parents', so I braved it. And, you know what? It wasn't too bad. Sure, I kept the kids in my room, checked all the closets before going to bed, and locked our door, but in the end, I actually kind of enjoyed it.
2. But I can be lazy, REALLY lazy. My husband is an exceptional man. He works really hard, he takes care of things around the house, and if I don't make any motion toward the kitchen by 5:30, he usually heads in there to cook dinner without complaining. I spend a lot of time being pretty unproductive at home. But, over the past 10 days, I have kept up with the laundry, kept the house picked up, and even watered the yard without forgetting. I let him pick up the slack around the house, because he will, but he really shouldn't have to.
3. On the other hand, cooking is NOT my passion. So, these 10 days have proven that, while I love to look at cookbooks and imagine gourmet meals, I am not a cook. I do not enjoy it; it is not my "go-to" hobby by any stretch of the imagination. I have managed to go 10 days without cooking anything more than a sandwich or frozen pizza. I may whip something up every once in a while when we have friends over, but Dinner Station is probably going to have to help with the rest.
4. Discipline is a beating. On a recent trip to Chick-fil-A, a friend and I were chatting while the kids played. A little boy comes out and says, "A little boy punched me in the face." His mom screamed out in horror, "Punched you?" I thought in horror, "There are only two little boys in there and one is mine." After a web of lies, we finally found out it was my Stars-Wars-crazed son taking his battles a bit too seriously. While he apologized and took his well-deserved punishment, I did not have the luxury of scaring him with "Wait until your dad comes home!" That made me think how difficult it would be to be the only one to maintain discipline in my home; eventually, they would figure out 99% of the time, I am winging it, and I would be toast.
5. Which leads me to realize, raising kids alone inhales profusely. I hope I don't hurt anyone's feelings because I want to just give a medal to all of those widowed, divorced or military moms who spend a great deal of time raising their children alone. It is exhausting, both physically and mentally. If you live close by and EVER need a break, drop your kids off at my place, any day or night, because it would be my privilege to give you a chance to relax.
6. Because I want to be like my friends and family who have shown me I'm not really alone. I am not one to ask for help, or even accept help when it is offered, but during the last few days, I have made a choice to just take other people's help. And it has been wonderful. My parents made me dinner for my anniversary (because Philip was gone), friends invited me to dinner at their house, Philip's parents treated me to a few days at their house, friends have watched my children, and even mowed our lawn. Allowing community to take hold has been one of the most satisfying parts of this process, and I was a better wife when he got home for it. THANK YOU!
7. So, now I understand that even the little things matter. Sometimes I feel I don't have much to give others, but an hour of time or a small treat can mean a great deal. I have a friend who is so intentional with her time that she put on her calendar the fact that Philip would be out of town. And then she called to see how she could help. I hope I will do that more, now that I know how nice it feels.
8. I could live without Philip. This is hard to write. I haven't really lost an immediate family member, so sometimes I can worry how you cope with that. Philip, who has lost someone close to him, always assures me that you just learn to move on, day by day. And, he's right. This is the first time in 13 years that I have not had a daily partner. It stunk at times. I cried at church the other night because I was tired and I missed him. But, I am confident the Lord would give me the grace and friends to see us through.
9. But, I don't want to.
So, I'm glad he's home, and I hope to complain a little less and enjoy a lot more!
1. I am not as much a wimp as I thought I was. I have never lived alone. I had my parents, college roommates and then my husband. Actually, I have rarely spent a night alone. And, when I did, I would kind of panic. I would stay up until 2 am, listening for weird sounds and then fall asleep with my bedside lamp on. I was a weenie. But, 10 nights is a little long to stay at my parents', so I braved it. And, you know what? It wasn't too bad. Sure, I kept the kids in my room, checked all the closets before going to bed, and locked our door, but in the end, I actually kind of enjoyed it.
2. But I can be lazy, REALLY lazy. My husband is an exceptional man. He works really hard, he takes care of things around the house, and if I don't make any motion toward the kitchen by 5:30, he usually heads in there to cook dinner without complaining. I spend a lot of time being pretty unproductive at home. But, over the past 10 days, I have kept up with the laundry, kept the house picked up, and even watered the yard without forgetting. I let him pick up the slack around the house, because he will, but he really shouldn't have to.
3. On the other hand, cooking is NOT my passion. So, these 10 days have proven that, while I love to look at cookbooks and imagine gourmet meals, I am not a cook. I do not enjoy it; it is not my "go-to" hobby by any stretch of the imagination. I have managed to go 10 days without cooking anything more than a sandwich or frozen pizza. I may whip something up every once in a while when we have friends over, but Dinner Station is probably going to have to help with the rest.
4. Discipline is a beating. On a recent trip to Chick-fil-A, a friend and I were chatting while the kids played. A little boy comes out and says, "A little boy punched me in the face." His mom screamed out in horror, "Punched you?" I thought in horror, "There are only two little boys in there and one is mine." After a web of lies, we finally found out it was my Stars-Wars-crazed son taking his battles a bit too seriously. While he apologized and took his well-deserved punishment, I did not have the luxury of scaring him with "Wait until your dad comes home!" That made me think how difficult it would be to be the only one to maintain discipline in my home; eventually, they would figure out 99% of the time, I am winging it, and I would be toast.
5. Which leads me to realize, raising kids alone inhales profusely. I hope I don't hurt anyone's feelings because I want to just give a medal to all of those widowed, divorced or military moms who spend a great deal of time raising their children alone. It is exhausting, both physically and mentally. If you live close by and EVER need a break, drop your kids off at my place, any day or night, because it would be my privilege to give you a chance to relax.
6. Because I want to be like my friends and family who have shown me I'm not really alone. I am not one to ask for help, or even accept help when it is offered, but during the last few days, I have made a choice to just take other people's help. And it has been wonderful. My parents made me dinner for my anniversary (because Philip was gone), friends invited me to dinner at their house, Philip's parents treated me to a few days at their house, friends have watched my children, and even mowed our lawn. Allowing community to take hold has been one of the most satisfying parts of this process, and I was a better wife when he got home for it. THANK YOU!
7. So, now I understand that even the little things matter. Sometimes I feel I don't have much to give others, but an hour of time or a small treat can mean a great deal. I have a friend who is so intentional with her time that she put on her calendar the fact that Philip would be out of town. And then she called to see how she could help. I hope I will do that more, now that I know how nice it feels.
8. I could live without Philip. This is hard to write. I haven't really lost an immediate family member, so sometimes I can worry how you cope with that. Philip, who has lost someone close to him, always assures me that you just learn to move on, day by day. And, he's right. This is the first time in 13 years that I have not had a daily partner. It stunk at times. I cried at church the other night because I was tired and I missed him. But, I am confident the Lord would give me the grace and friends to see us through.
9. But, I don't want to.
So, I'm glad he's home, and I hope to complain a little less and enjoy a lot more!
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Reminder at the Opening Ceremony
So, on Friday night, we got a wonderful, surprise visit from our nanny who watched the kids when we first moved to HV. She was such a bright spot in our lives for that year, and Kate was so amazed that she would come see her. We had a special time of homemade cookies, light saber shows and catching up.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
The Problem with Pity
Because of a sweet friend who watched my kids Friday morning, I got to spend a full hour in the Word at Starbucks with no interruptions. What a beautiful gift! We just joined a new homegroup at church, so lately my time in the Word has been following our church's introductory guide for homegroups. And what would be the topic of study today, on my "Hang-out-with-God" treat day? Gospel-Centered Service. In light of the last few weeks, and the specific prayers I have had, it was definitely a moment of, "Ah, so you're talking to me, God!" I read about Jesus washing the disciples' feet (even those of Judas) and one of the sweetest summaries of the Gospel there is, "For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake, he became poor, so that you, by his poverty, might become rich." (2 Corinthians 8:9) There is no question that Jesus was physically poor in the Bible. He had no place to lay his head (Luke 9:58). He and His disciples left any livelihood they had to share the Good News.
Everywhere we look there are people in need. Just last week, while visiting Dallas, there were panhandlers asking for spare change. There are those who have now been unemployed for years. There are single mothers trying to make ends meet. And, around the world, the poverty can be staggering. No sanitation, no education, no clean water, no rain. What appears to be no hope for change in the lives of billions of people. Sometimes, I feel overwhelmed with pity. Merriam-Webster defines pity as the "sympathetic sorrow for one's suffering." When I see others in what appears to be insurmountable need, there is that feeling in the pit of my stomach that kind of makes it turn: pity. With pity comes shame at all we have and all we take for granted; and guilt at not being able to do more.
In an effort to understand the feeling, I looked up "pity" in my Bible's Concordance. I was surprised to find that there are only two verses in the Bible that use the word "pity", or some form thereof. In Psalm 90:13, a Psalm of lamenting, the author cries out to God for Him to have pity on His servants, to put an end to their suffering. The psalmist cried out to God--"Don't you at least see our pain? How long will we have to suffer?" Likewise, I feel pity when I see a problem that I don't have the time, resources or--to be completely honest--motivation to solve. Pity sees but does not take action, and in this inaction, creates guilt, overwhelm, doubt and insecurity that there is any hope to end a person's, or the world's, suffering.
Then, in what I think is one of the most honest verses of the Bible, Paul says, "If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied." (I Corinthians 15:19) Pity is a feeling that is associated with hopelessness and helplessness. Without Christ, pity reigns. There is no hope; there is no relief; there is no light in the darkness.
Everywhere we look there are people in need. Just last week, while visiting Dallas, there were panhandlers asking for spare change. There are those who have now been unemployed for years. There are single mothers trying to make ends meet. And, around the world, the poverty can be staggering. No sanitation, no education, no clean water, no rain. What appears to be no hope for change in the lives of billions of people. Sometimes, I feel overwhelmed with pity. Merriam-Webster defines pity as the "sympathetic sorrow for one's suffering." When I see others in what appears to be insurmountable need, there is that feeling in the pit of my stomach that kind of makes it turn: pity. With pity comes shame at all we have and all we take for granted; and guilt at not being able to do more.
In an effort to understand the feeling, I looked up "pity" in my Bible's Concordance. I was surprised to find that there are only two verses in the Bible that use the word "pity", or some form thereof. In Psalm 90:13, a Psalm of lamenting, the author cries out to God for Him to have pity on His servants, to put an end to their suffering. The psalmist cried out to God--"Don't you at least see our pain? How long will we have to suffer?" Likewise, I feel pity when I see a problem that I don't have the time, resources or--to be completely honest--motivation to solve. Pity sees but does not take action, and in this inaction, creates guilt, overwhelm, doubt and insecurity that there is any hope to end a person's, or the world's, suffering.
Then, in what I think is one of the most honest verses of the Bible, Paul says, "If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied." (I Corinthians 15:19) Pity is a feeling that is associated with hopelessness and helplessness. Without Christ, pity reigns. There is no hope; there is no relief; there is no light in the darkness.
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