What does trust look like?

I've known that God isn't like some Santa in the sky that we can just ask for what we want and then get it.  But I also thought that trusting God somehow meant that it would all be okay.  I might not get what I want when I want it, but that I wouldn't endure major tragedy, loss, or heartbreak.  Obviously since the death of my baby I know that is not true.  But that leaves me with the aching question of what does it mean to trust? What is God's side of this deal?

If I tell one of my kids to trust me and then let their worst fears come true, I wouldn't blame them for not trusting me next time. I really was trusting God in getting pregnant in the first place, and in my pregnancy, and in having to move and get our house ready for the market which was physically and mentally exhausting during a time in my pregnancy when I was already exhausted.  And He let my worst fears come true.  I had a stillbirth.  So what now? What does trust look like?  I have very little faith that He is going to help us with the sale of our house now or that He will help us find a great place to live once we move.  I can't bring myself to pray for little stupid things that I don't really care about  (like the weather or for a house showing) when He didn't intervene in the thing I wanted the most.  So I'm doubting and shaken because before all of this I did have a strong, almost childlike, faith.  I believed that He would take care of everything and I just needed to trust and seek Him first.

And yet in my doubt and pain, I am still turning to Him for the answers.  Yesterday at Mass, I was struggling to form a prayer, other than offering up the longing and ache stirred up by sitting behind one of the cutest little babies ever.  I felt far and distant from God.  But the Gospel spoke of the eleven apostles with Jesus after He had risen.  He took them up to a mountain and it said, "When they saw him, they worshiped, but they doubted".

These are the apostles for goodness sake! They had seen Jesus raise people from the dead and make blind men see and lame men walk with their own eyes.  They saw him crucified and beaten and dead and now alive.  And yet it says, "they doubted".  And Jesus still loved them and entrusted them with the Great Commission in the very next verse.  If Jesus can be patient with the apostles who witnessed His many miracles and still doubted, surely He can be patient with me.

So I don't know what trust looks like.  Right now it means getting up each morning and putting one foot in front of the other.  It means loving my husband and children the best I can, and it means asking Him my questions and listening to what He tells me.  All I know is trust doesn't look like I thought it did.

My Boys

My four boys have been good medicine for me over the past month.  Besides forcing me to keep putting one foot in front of the other and functioning at some (very low) level, they bring joy to my days that are filled with an ache that won't go away.  Their snuggles, hugs, and laughter are so healing to my soul.

Dinner time has been so important over these hard weeks too.  Over the past month we have had meals delivered to us every night which has been such a wonderful gift.  Not only did I not have to shop and plan and cook the dinners, but while we were around the table there were many moments of grace.    One night when we were planning the funeral, I asked the boys if they had a favorite church song they'd like played.  Our second son, who wants everyone to be happy all the time said, "Isn't there a song about "Just be happy".  Our  eldest busted out with Bob Marley's "Every little thing's gonna be alright".  We had a good laugh about the thought of Bob Marley being played at the funeral! Laughter while grieving is especially healing.

While the boys have been so healing and helpful, it is hard too because each time I see one of them and my heart is filled with love- I am reminded that we had another one on the way.  They are little reminders of my longing.  But it helps to know that I'm not the only one missing baby John. They too were so excited about their new brother and eager to welcome him to our family.  Even our youngest, who is only three, said one night at dinner, completely out of the blue, "Someone is missing".  Yes, someone is missing.  That is what I've been feeling so painfully. 

And the questions they ask resonate with my own questions. Our five year old had a twin that we lost in utero early on so he is especially aware of the fragility of life in the womb.  He started praying as soon as we told him we were pregnant for "the baby in mommy's tummy not to die".  He prayed this faithfully every chance he could the whole pregnancy.  At family prayer time, at grace, and often he would ask to light a candle at church and his prayer was always the same.  A few weeks after John's death I asked him,  "I know you prayed often for the baby not to die, and he did anyway, what do you think about this?" His answer broke my heart.  He said,  "Maybe on accident God thought that I said for the baby to die".  I assured him that God doesn't misunderstand us.  God knew that we wanted this baby alive.  But I couldn't give him a good answer of why this happened anyway.  I am wrestling with that one myself.

Recently I was feeling especially sad and my eight year old asked me what was wrong. I told him I was sad because I was missing baby John.  He said, "It's like in that song from Church.  Right now you're in the darkness, but you'll be clothed in the light." Wise words from a child.

I don't know when I'll see or feel "the light" again, but his words gave me hope. And sometimes hope is enough.  

Going Home

I woke up this morning with the thought, "I want to go home" which was a little strange, since I was at home. I'm not sure what this meant.  That I want to go to heaven? That this place doesn't feel like home without my baby?  That I want to go back to a few weeks ago when the world was a safe place and God was obviously kind and good? I'm sure He is still kind and good, but it's not so obvious and I have had plenty of doubts. It was about 5:45 when I awoke and I thought about getting up to pray, but I wondered if prayer was just a big waste of time. How can I pray when He didn't answer my biggest prayer: for my baby to live?

I got up to pray anyway (probably because of all of your prayers for me).  And as I went over to my comfy chair, I was telling God, if you are real and good, please speak to me today in prayer.  I looked at the daily readings for Mass today and the Psalm said, "My home is within you".  Given the fact that I had just had the thought that I want to go home, this stood out to me and spoke to me deeply. My true home is with Him. Just as my baby made his home in me for eight and a half months, my home is within the heart of God.

It was good that God spoke to me and that I heard his voice, because in the gospel reading the Jews asked Jesus, "How long are you going to keep us in suspense? If you are the Christ, tell us plainly." Isn't that what I was saying to God this morning too? And Jesus answered them,

"I told you and you do not believe, because you are not among my sheep. My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish."  - John 10:25-27

Thank you God for helping me hear your voice.

Being reminded that my true home is with God, also gives me courage as I think about our move. Our house is on the market and in a few weeks or months we will be moving away. This is painful for many reasons.   The support I have felt from the community and from my family and friends the past few weeks has been amazing.  I was already sad to leave, but now leaving my baby behind in a cemetery makes it that much harder.  But God keeps trying to help me trust Him with this move.  Many times He has used this verse to encourage me and He is using it now,

"Peter began to say, 'We have given up everything to follow you' and Jesus said, "Amen I say to you, there is no one who has given up house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands for my sake and for the sake of the gospel who will not receive a hundred times more now in this present age: houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands, with persecutions, and eternal life in the age to come" - Mark 10:28-30

I am trying to trust.  This is not an emotional trust.  These comforts and graces in prayer are not really of the heart. My heart still feels cold and distant, but this faith is more in my intellect and will. I hope that God will soften my heart again in time,  but maybe, in this time of sadness and grief, I will understand other's inability to trust God and it will change me.  I've known people who have suffered greatly and they have a trust in God that isn't youthful and idealistic, but comes from somewhere deeper and more mature.  I hope that with your continued prayers and God's grace, I too may grow through this trial and come out stronger in my faith.

When I'm Mad...

One of the stages of grief is anger.  I think it's a normal human reaction and I certainly am not exempt.  I have been angry.  Since God is God and He's all-powerful, I've directed a lot of this anger toward Him.  I have spent sleepless nights telling God how I could run this planet much better than Him. If He insists on taking babies from their mothers at birth, why didn't He start with Adolf Hitler, or Fred Phelps, or that jerk in Ohio who kidnapped three girls and raped and beat them for ten years? Why my baby? I have even gotten mad in Church. Some songs I just can't sing right now.  It's hard to sing of God's kindness and mercy when you're mad at Him.

I don't feel this way all the time, but I've definitely had my moments. But eventually I come around to feeling like Peter.  When Jesus is giving the disciples some hard teachings and many leave him, he turns to his apostles and asks if they are going to leave him too.

Peter answers, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced you are the Holy One of God" - John 6:67  

That's the conclusion I keep coming to after my anger fades, "Where else can I go?"  Nothing this life has to offer can really comfort me.  A good bottle of wine won't cut it.  A steak dinner with my husband can't bring lasting peace to my grief.  A new outfit won't touch this hurt inside. The only place I know to go is to turn to Him- in my anger, in my grief, in my sadness, and even in gratitude as I experience little graces along the way.

Many times my prayer has been, "I believe Lord, help my unbelief" - Mark 9:24

And God has helped me over and over.  The day that I went to the hospital and found out John had died, I had some time in prayer that afternoon.  I try to finish my prayer time each day with a practical resolution that will help me. Sometimes it's a Bible verse to keep close to heart but often it's something far more practical- like don't cuss in front of the kids.  That day my resolution was, "Remember God is with you".  All through this ordeal that was the message God had given to me to carry in my heart.  He was reassuring me and strengthening me even beforehand.

In fact, I looked back through my prayer journal, and there were several things that had struck me in the weeks and months prior to losing John that God had given me to help me.

• "One of the most liberating and salutary things we can know is that we are not meant to be perfectly happy in this life" - Fr. Robert Baron

• "Through tears she looked up to heaven, for she trusted God wholeheartedly" Daniel 13

• "The resurrection tells us that our faith is not in vain" - From Divine Intimacy

• "Though war be waged against me, even then I will trust"- Psalm 27:3

• "But the Lord is with me like a mighty champion" Jeremiah 20:11

• "''If anyone wishes to be first she shall be the last of all and the servant of all'. Taking a child he placed it in their midst, and putting his arms around it, he said to them, 'Whoever receives one child such as this in my name, receives me; and whoever receives me, receives not me, but the One who sent me'" - Mark 9:30-37

• "Resurrection means that the Worst Thing is never the Last Thing"- Beuchner

• "Hang on, Beloveds. If it's awful, it's not over.  Good Friday means that Life Hurts. Saturday means that if we wait and hope and keep vigil- Easter Sunday will come to prove that Love Wins" - Glennon Melton

These were all things that had struck me before John's death.  God had been preparing me in His gentle way and giving me grace for months beforehand.  

I may not understand God's ways, and I may not like them sometimes, but I've learned there is no one else I'd rather walk through this painful valley with.

Heavenly Aid

This part of the story is hard for me to share.  It is very personal, and perhaps hard to believe.  But I feel compelled to share it for two reasons. The first reason is that maybe it will help someone else. The second reason is because so many people have made comments about my strong faith and courage and I know full well that I am weak and any faith I have right now is a gift, and  I think this story illustrates that.

During the labor when it came time to push, I got to a point where I couldn't do it. Physically, emotionally, spiritually I. was. done. I was shaking and I couldn't breathe and I mean I just couldn't do it.  I was trying to think of a saint that was strong that I could pray to. I kept thinking of manly saints and picturing the apostles' strong muscles lifting up nets of fish or St. Michael the Archangel.  But these weren't cutting it for me. I didn't need manly strength.  I needed womanly strength.

Suddenly I thought of Chiara Corbella.  Maybe some of you are familiar with her story. Chiara was an Italian woman who carried three babies- two of which, Maria and David, only lived 30 minutes. During her third pregnancy the baby was healthy, but Chiara was diagnosed with cancer.  She postponed treatments until after the baby was born.  Chiara died on June 13, 2012, just a year after her third baby was born healthy.  Not only did she know suffering, but she showed great faith and strength during her suffering.  More of her story is here

Before she died, she wrote a letter to her son. I love this excerpt: 

Don’t ever get discouraged, my son, God never takes anything away from you. If He takes away it is only because he wants to give you so much more. Thanks to Maria and David, we fell more in love with eternal life and we stopped fearing death. You see, God took away but He did it to give us a bigger and more open heart ready to welcome eternal life, even here in this life.

As I was panicked and terrified, I thought of this strong woman who many consider a saint, and suddenly I felt her presence with me in the delivery room. I felt her hand on my forehead and a great peace and calm came over me.  I stopped shaking and could breathe again and I was able to push out my baby.   In between pushes, I looked at my husband and said, "Pray to Chiara Corbella, she's here."

I have returned to this moment over and over again in the past few weeks.  When I question if God even cares about me since He let my baby die, I remember that I didn't have to do it alone.  I remember the heavenly aid He sent.  As I question the mystery of suffering, I don't have answers, but I do have that experience.  I have continued to seek her intercession as I mourn the loss of baby John and I pray that she will help me to be strong.

What happened?

The first question people want to ask when they hear that we had a stillbirth two weeks ago is, "Do you know what happened?"  The short answer is no, we don't know.  Baby John was perfectly formed with all ten fingers and toes, the cord wasn't around his neck, there were no known genetic abnormalities, and when we had his sonogram every organ from his baby bladder to his brain looked perfect.

On Thursday, April 24,  at 36 and a half weeks pregnant I woke up feeling sad and depressed for no apparent reason. I cried easily all day and figured this was part of the hormonal craziness of the end of pregnancy. In hind sight, I think my heart knew before I did.  The day was busy with the hustle and bustle of caring for four boys and it wasn't until I had them all in bed and sat down that I realized it had been a while since I'd felt the baby move.  I started tracking kick counts.  I even thought I felt a couple, but I think you can feel anything if you want to badly enough. By 1:30 that night I called my doctor and he said to come in.

Even on the way to the hospital I wasn't panicked, I had been scared at different times during all of my previous pregnancies and everything had turned out fine. I even said to my husband as we entered the maternity ward how excited I was to finally meet this baby.

When the first nurse was having trouble finding the heartbeat, my optimism still hadn't faded. As the second nurse came in and also couldn't find the heartbeat it just didn't seem real.  And when they finally brought in a doctor with a sonogram machine and he said, "I'm sorry, there is no cardiac activity" I felt myself willing this not to happen.  My first words were, "I'm not strong enough. I can't do this."  My husband and I cried and mourned and he tried to comfort me as I knew I still had to give birth to this baby who was really already gone.

The labor was slow and took all night and all day.  This time was painful but also a gift in that we had time to process what was happening and let reality sink in.  At one point the nurses asked if we planned on having our other children see the baby. My first instinct as a mom was to shield them from this heartbreak and protect them from having the image of their dead baby brother forever burned into their memories.  But over the course of the day, I realized that this might be one of our most teachable moments ever as parents.  How can we speak of the resurrection if we are afraid to face death? This was following on the tails of Easter and I wanted the boys to really know in the depths of their hearts that death is not the end and that we have eternal life waiting for us.  This decision proved to be very graced for all of us.

John Paul Miki was born at 7:18 pm on 4/25/14 at 7 lbs 2oz.  After Keith and I had some time alone with baby John, my parents brought the boys in and they got to hold and kiss him.  My second son later said that although this made him sad, it helped make it more real that he has a brother in heaven.  My five year old still didn't fully understand since later he asked, "When do we get to bring him home?".  Through tears I told him that he doesn't get to come home with us.  And although this time was so deeply sorrowful, it was filled with hope too as we told the boys how happy John is in heaven and how death is not the end.  We told him that our goal as parents is to get them to heaven and that John won... he beat us there.  I told them that Jesus came to abolish death and that one day He will wipe away every tear from our eyes and death and sadness will be no more.

Several nights later at dinner our oldest son raised his glass and said, "Cheers to John's victory".  We kind of looked at him for a second in stunned silence, and he continued, "John won the race, he's in heaven".

These moments when I was trying to comfort and teach my children these truths so central to our faith have proven to be a comfort to me.  I have to tell myself over and over again as I ache for my baby that he is in heaven and someday we will be reunited.

Countless times I have asked myself, "What happened? Why? Why?"  The truth is we just don't know.  As a mom I have gone over everything in my head a thousand times looking for a reason, or something I did to cause this, and there really isn't one.  I don't know how to make sense of this tragedy, all I can do is hope that God is using it as a teachable moment too.

Forgettable Moments to Remember

Do you remember the scene in "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood" where Susan Sarandon is about to lose her mind taking care of several children with the stomach flu?  I won't bother posting a clip here since it's such a horrid scene that it terrifies women who haven't had children yet and reminds mothers of their own ugly moments that they've tried to forget.  But when my husband and I watched this movie for the first time, long before we had children, I remember him asking, "Where is the Dad?" 

Now, years later, his question pops in my mind from time to time with a twinge of resentment.  Like this week. All four of the children have been sick all week. I haven't been anywhere all week.  ANYWHERE. ALL WEEK.   For being a stay-at-home mom, I don't actually like to stay at home.  At least not for days and days on end. With sick children.  I have lost track of all the times I have dealt with sick children when my husband was busy at work (working hard to provide for us, I might add) or out of town. 

And although it is easy to feel like somehow I'm the martyr, I was reminded several times this week that although this is hard... and I mean HARD...there is no where else I'd rather be.  Okay, on a beach with a mai tai sounds pretty good, but what I mean is there is no one else I would want to console my suffering child besides me. There is no one else I would want to rub my child's back and sing to them and tell them that it was going to be okay and that mommy was going to take good care of them.  And although my husband is wonderful at caring for our children, when they are sick, I still feel like no one else can do the better job than me. It is a privilege and honor to care for them with tenderness and concern. 

There is nothing worse than watching your child suffer except maybe the thought of them suffering without you. And so, although it has been a long week, (and the weekend doesn't seem to hold much promise) I'm going to keep close to my kiddos and offer them what comfort I can and appreciate that normally we are in good health. There is so much to be thankful for. I'm grateful that we have access to the best healthcare in the world, and thankful for the invention of motrin. And really thankful that I had plenty of wine and frozen dinners on hand. 

And soon this week will be full of moments that I will have forgotten, but the message I have given to my children will be remembered always.

Multitasking: A FORCE To Reckon With

I have a love/hate relationship with Jillian Michaels.  I much prefer working out at the gym, most especially because of the day care, but sometimes like when I have a kid home sick or a baby that naps three times a day, the 30 Day Shred has been a great way to get in an intense workout in under 30 minutes. 

I can’t say that I actually like most of what she has to say. I am not working out so that I can look great in ALL those strapless dresses that I wear (ha!).  And if I were working out to look good in a bikini I would have given up long ago.  I don’t even usually listen to her anymore, I just turn on my itunes and mute the TV. But recently I had the volume on for some reason and she said,

“Most people don’t show up for their own lives.  They just go through their whole day without ever bringing their A game”.

(I know you’re asking yourself if she is seriously quoting the wisdom of Jillian Michaels?)

That’s me, I thought.  I often feel like I’m just going through the motions getting to the next task. As Yoda would say (now she’s quoting Yoda?)

"All his life he has looked away... to the future... to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was....what he was doing"

 

 

Now let me be clear… there is a big difference between perfection and “bringing your A game”. As a mother of four young boys, if I am looking for perfection I will be disappointed. If I wait for the perfect time to workout, I will never exercise.  If I wait for the perfect time to pray, I will be waiting a long time.  If I expect my house to be immaculate, I will drive myself and those who live here crazy.   Perfection is not something that’s attainable, but doing my best is what I am called to do. 

As Blessed Mother Theresa says, “We are not called to be successful, but to be faithful”

This has been a humbling realization.  My “A game” doesn’t always bring “A” results.   Maybe that’s why it’s easier sometimes to bring my “B” or “C” game… then when I get average results, it’s not so disappointing.

So I resolved to bring my A game that day.  But as I went through my day, I realized that thinking about paying bills while I was folding laundry and remembering to organize the carpool while I was in the shower was actually an important skill.  I think women have a unique gift in their ability to multitask.  While often men can be so focused on their reading or football game that they don’t even hear a kid talking directly to them, women often can hear what’s going on in four different rooms with all of her children while cooking dinner and talking on the phone.  And this is a gift.  Many times this ability has helped me save a child from danger... even if it means that sometimes the dinner gets burned.

Maybe not always having 100% of mind on what I am doing is actually a gift.  I mean, how much mind power does laundry or dishes require?  Dreaming gives us hope. If Luke Skywalker had brought his A game to every little farming chore, maybe he would have been too worn out to fight the dark side and save the galaxy. If he hadn’t been spending his time dreaming of how he wanted to make a difference in the world, maybe he wouldn’t have had the courage (and ego) to go and become a Jedi.  Dreaming for myself, my boys, and our family gives me a sense of the bigger picture and what I’m really trying to accomplish.  And while I can’t give all of my thoughts and energy to everything all the time, I think I’ll keep dreaming big and multitasking and save my “A game” for the moments that really count. J

Lowering the bar

Yesterday was the first day of summer and by 8:05a.m. I had already been asked, “What can we do?”  By 10 am I posted on my Facebook,

“It's the first day of summer and my kids somehow got the impression that every minute of summer is supposed to be blissfully fun and entertaining. I think I'll make the day extra boring just to lower the bar a little...”

Fighting through the boredom was tough at first. There was bickering, whining, and several requests for food even though they weren’t really hungry.  It required an act of the will on my part not to want to escape to the zoo, park, Chuck E Cheese, or at least turn on the TV. (okay we eventually did turn on the tv, and later rode bikes to the park).  But somehow I felt that the experience of boredom was good for them.

And after fighting through for a while, their creative side came out. And they launched a full blown NERF gun war.

And the fun and laughter and creativity that is what summer should be began.

That’s how I wanted the story to end.

But in reality my little guys wanted to go outside while the big boys were having this NERF battle, and since it was truly gorgeous out, we headed to the front yard. My one year old wanted EVERYTHING my three-year-old played with except when he was climbing the cement steps or trying to eat rocks.  Meanwhile his brother found a sippy cup with milk in the trunk of his Lil’ Tikes car, which had been there for who-knows-how long.  He had already taken several sips before I confiscated and smelled the very rancid milk.  The phone rang and while I’m on the phone my three year old whines incessantly for some fresh milk and one of the NERF warriors yells out the window for some injustice which demanded my refereeing skills.

Enough is enough… the front yard isn’t working…. let’s try the backyard.  Off we go… and the baby heads straight for the sandbox… and proceeds to play with something in there… I begin to wonder what it could be? A closer look reveals some sort of animal poop. Nice.  At this point I start completely losing it.  I call my husband hoping for some words of wisdom, advice, or encouragement. He suggests I start drinking. It’s only noon.

I tell everyone to come inside and turn on the TV and sit at the kitchen table wondering how I’m going to survive the summer.

I had been psyching myself up for weeks that this summer was going to be different. I wasn’t going to yell and get frustrated and turn to the TV as a babysitter. My kindergartner was actually going to do the summer packet his teacher had given him to work on this summer.  During the little ones naps, the big boys would read quietly and work on bettering themselves.  And we’d play lots of games and have lots of fun.  And family life would look just like how I imagine it should. And I’d be “the perfect mom”. 

While sitting at the table, between praying and contemplating taking my husband’s advice to pour myself a drink, I decided that maybe it wasn’t the kids that needed to lower their expectations of what summer would look like after all… maybe it was me. And suddenly I was ready to face the chaos again…

His Grace is Sufficient....

It was July 2010 early in the morning when I told my husband the news…. I’m PREGNANT!  The joy in my heart was obvious and my husband shared in it! Together we told our boys… and rejoiced.  To celebrate we decided to go to Mass that day and thank God for this new life. 

While I was truly overjoyed by the gift of this new life, I also knew it meant the next nine months would be far from easy.  I have had difficult pregnancies that seem to get harder each time.  We’ve lost two babies through miscarriage and then found naprotechnology which helped us discover I had low progesterone.  Thankfully it can be treated through shots twice a week. 

Having just had a baby a little over a year before, I knew what I was getting into.  It meant lab draws, shots, hormones that made me (and let’s be honest… everyone around me) a little crazy.  It meant carrying a puke bucket around for months and an exhaustion that was so fierce I wondered if I’d ever feel normal again.  And it meant an emotional rollercoaster of praying and hoping for my baby’s safety.

So when we arrived at mass, I was praying in thanksgiving, but I also was praying for grace to endure the suffering that would surely come.  And then I heard the first reading from Jeremiah, 1:4

                “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I dedicated you”

My heart leapt.  I knew that God was with this baby and with me.

Then the Psalm 71:5-6

                “For you are my hope, O Lord:

                My trust, O God from my youth.

                On you I depend from birth;

                From my mother’s womb you are my strength”

I felt like God was telling me that he would protect this baby and not to worry. I experienced a deep peace and joy. 

Then the gospel was Matthew 13:1-9, the parable of the sower and the seeds.  I have heard this parable many times, but at some point since becoming a mother I began to hear it differently.  The same things that Jesus warns us can keep us from bearing spiritual fruit: trials, lack of roots, the anxieties of daily life and the lure of riches, are the same things that often keep people from bearing physical fruit: more children.

I felt so encouraged that this was the reading for the day.  So that nothing... not fear of suffering, financial concerns, or the anxieties of life with small children, could rob me of the joy of this new life growing inside me. 

The pregnancy was a time of suffering for me, but also of great consolation.  Jesus continued to give me great peace and encouragement.  The first time I went in for my lab draw I was feeling a little sorry for myself… here we go again I thought…. And on the secular radio station that was on in the lab was “I Can Only Imagine”.  It was a little gift to me. 

And there were moments that I drew upon the grace that was given to me that day at Mass.  One instance in particular when I was about four months along and I started bleeding.  I was at the ER and I kept almost hearing the word, “protected”.  I felt a deep peace even before the sonogram showed a little baby with a beating heart!

Our little boy was born, not only full term, but 8 days overdue!   Healthy and beautiful little boy!  And the suffering of those nine months was nothing compared to the joy of our new son.  

I experienced that God's grace is not only sufficient, but it is abundant!

p.s. My husband writes about this time in our lives also... check it out 

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

After my last post, I was thinking of all the times my kids have been late to school and the circumstances surrounding that and I remember one incident that really stood out.

A little background: my kindergartner is sort of a mix between a cuddly bear and the Tasmanian devil. My wild child is on his second backpack for this year. And it’s literally safety pinned together. He went through two winter coats and countless pants.  The kid literally runs circles around everyone all day long. I bought him a pair of Sketcher sneakers in October and when we were shooting baskets in the gym in December he kept slipping. I looked and his treads were completely gone.  At first I thought, "Boy they sure don’t make ‘em like they used to" (I have a pair of Sketchers from college which was… well, let’s just say… ages ago!).  But I realized he literally wore them out… in two months.

Here he is VICTORIOUS!

My husband and I joke about how this boy of ours came out ready for the marines.  He's the kid who when Grandpa says, "watch out for spider webs on the dock!" goes running chest out, arms open wide right into them, not because he has something to prove, but because he really just doesn't care.

check out the long walkway and imagine him running and  yelling and letting the webs go all over him...

This tough side is balanced well though with a sweetness and deep concern for others. He will be the first to run over to the baby and comfort him or to give a hug out of the blue. He is as sweet as can be, just a little fireball.

So when his brother came upstairs one day saying that my little sweet tornado had pulled the coat hooks out of the wall, I wasn’t as shocked as you would think.  He pulled so hard, they literally came out of the wall. Since the hooks were anchored into the wall, it left two huge holes.  They say I'll laugh at these things someday...

The next day he went to get his coat and it was up high. Being extremely resourceful, he tried to get it himself but couldn’t quite reach, so he got a cap gun, a nice solid metal one, and was throwing it up high in the air to try and get it to unhook his coat. Not such a great idea. Apparently the sharpest part of the gun landed on his head.

The next thing I know I’m looking at the clock thinking that although my husband was gone, I was actually going to get them to school on time… we still had plenty of time! It was a miracle… there’s a first time for everything!  WOW! I’m supermom!   That was until he came upstairs holding his head, covered in blood.

Now, there was a time when I was new to this mothering boys business that I became completely unglued at the sight of my child bleeding. But being the veteran that I am, and having experienced countless boys bloodied in battle… okay.... I still freak out at the sight of one of them bleeding. Every. Single. Time.  I’m not really sure if my reaction is because it’s so painful to see your child hurting, because my level of medical care doesn't extend beyond putting on a band-aid, or because I don’t want blood on my carpet… but I have yet to react calmly and rationally. 

Anyway, I quickly decided that if I was going to the ER, I’d rather have three children with me instead of four so I took my oldest to school while having my bleeding boy cover his head with an ice packet and a towel. And I called my sister who is an ER doctor.

And my sister saved the day again… she calmly told me how much head wounds bleed and how it probably wasn’t that bad and walked me through what to do to help him. She saved me an ER visit that day and a huge copay and it was only one of the many times I’ve been grateful for her!

Here she is with my little niece 

By the time I got to the pediatrician’s office my bleeding boy was doing fine and so was I. 

And I learned that being late to school isn’t the worst thing that could happen after all.  And that motherhood, like everything worth doing, takes a lot of blood, sweat, and tears! 

Perspective...

I haven’t been blogging lately. It’s not that the ideas aren’t there. Nearly every day there is some new moment with one of my children I want to capture forever or sometimes moments that I want to forget and I know that writing about it is therapeutic. But it’s just that life is so full of well, LIFE!  It reminds me of an old country song by DougStone, “I was too busy being in love”.  

Ever since my baby turned one, I’ve been wanting to soak up every last minute of his baby-ness before it melts away completely.

Here he is with his birthday cake!  

I see it happening right before my eyes and while I cherish each new word and step, I also can’t believe he’s growing so fast.  The next thing I know he’ll be wearing camo pants and lightsaber fighting with his brothers and saying, “hey Mom… look at this!” as he makes a basket.

(Or makes us pancakes on a Saturday morning!)

It’s like my life is on speed… and if and when it does slow down, I slow down too…and suddenly my long “to-do” list (with things like BLOG on it) looks like things that can all wait another day and I pour myself a glass of wine and curl up next to my husband and relax.

But today, I was blessed with an award for my blog! Can you believe it? AN AWARD!!!  

Thank you to Cynthia at Finding GreatJoy, whose blog I read regularly and always find both entertaining and inspiring. Check out one of my favorites.  So my new award was just the inspiration I needed to get the latest blog out of my head and into the computer.

Yesterday my husband had to get to work early so I had to get the boys to school all by myself. Now, I know that there are women who do this everyday… and let me tell you, you are the ones that deserve an award!  Somehow it is physically impossible, no matter how early I start, to get the two older boys to school  on time. Physically impossible I tell you!  Even when things look good and we leave with plenty of time (like on the first day of school this year) there is a diaper explosion of epic proportions and I am stuck with a poopy baby and carseat standing outside the school while everyone walks in their children and takes pictures and my kindergartner who is so excited he could burst keeps saying, “are you ready yet mom?” 

And of course I didn’t have a change of clothes in the diaper bag…

There is a whole history here of failure… and even when it isn’t really failure on my part… it feels like it, since I am, afterall, the responsible one… gulp.   

So yesterday I was barking orders like a drill sergeant and trying to make sure the older kids were dressed appropriately and had teeth brushed, and the younger ones had fresh diapers and everyone was fed… and amidst the demands of the morning I made a lunch that was forgotten on the counter and they were late to school… again.  And I felt like I had just ran a sprint but fell right before the finish line.

After I had dropped them off and was trying to recover, I was trying to tell myself how grateful I should be that my husband does this everyday. But I wasn’t feeling grateful.  And then I got behind a school bus that  had it’s STOP sign out and I waited.  And I watched as a little girl in a pink wheelchair was lifted onto the bus, and suddenly I was grateful. Very grateful.  And in a moment my whole mood and perspective changed and I was the luckiest mom in the world to four beautiful and healthy boys...two of which got to go to an amazing school and two of which got to stay home with me! I wonder if that brave little girl knows what a witness she is... maybe she should be getting the award!

An Award!!!

It turns out I won an award for my blog from my friend Cynthia at Finding Great Joy, whose blog I read regularly and always find both entertaining and inspiring. Check out one of my favorites.  The award was just the inspiration I needed to write again! 

The rules: 

1. Choose five up and coming blogs with less than 200 followers to give the award.

2. Show your thanks to the blogger who awarded you by linking back to them.

3. Post the award on your blog.

4. List the blogs you gave the award to by linking on your site. Leave a comment on their blogs to let them know you awarded them.

5. List five random facts about yourself.

First things first, I'm awarding the following blogs (ooooh...so hard to choose ONLY five!):

·         Sue at All Things Bright and Beautiful

·         Lindsay at My Child, I Love You

·         Molly at My Chaotic Beauty

·         Suzanne at The Growing Family

·         Amber at Blonde And Balanced

Five Random Facts:

• Kids can get into trouble faster than you can read this blog
• Last week, my one-year-old got a plastic Easter egg down from the table, opened it, unwrapped part of a Reeses chocolate egg and was well into delight when I found him.
• Two days ago I busted my one year old eating M&Ms from his brother's Easter egg... he had a look that said, "I know I'm in trouble but that was SO WORTH IT!" ...
• Which is exactly how I feel about chocolate
• Today, while I was scheduling a doctors appointment on the phone and my three-year-old was supposed to be drawing on the white board...

But instead he was drawing on his legs! 

And a little on the wall too if you look on the right...

And So Shines A Ray Of Hope...

It was one of those days where I woke up with an unexplained heaviness.  Even the simplest task felt like climbing a mountain. Dishes. Laundry. Meals. I had to keep reminding myself that I am blessed, which is absurd, because I truly am remarkably blessed. Then I felt guilty that I had to tell myself to be happy when objectively I should be happy anyway.  

My “to-do” list, which has had some of the items on it for literally months, all of a sudden seemed urgent and was written proof of my inadequacy.  Why was the fact that I couldn’t get around to changing the batteries in my smoke detectors suddenly throwing me into despair?  I was struggling with the sickness of perfectionism.  When I realized that this dread I was carrying around may just be hormonal, it still didn’t seem to help…

As I was throwing in yet another load of laundry, I realized that the voice inside my head was being particularly harsh.  I would never talk to anyone else the way I was talking to myself. What would I tell one of my friends if she called up saying she wasn’t hacking it as a mom because her kid didn’t have clean uniform pants this morning? And she skipped flossing their teeth last night!  Hardly abuse… even if it was the same day she’d gotten a lecture from the dentist about how important it is to floss.  I would probably laugh and remind her how hard it is sometimes and to think of all the things she did do for her family. 

The day trudged on and I along with it, trying to talk to myself as gently and kindly as I would to a friend. Trying to take life less seriously. Trying.   

As I was burping the baby, he looked at me and for the first time, clear as day, said, “Mama” and leaned in and gave me a big slobbery baby kiss. My heart stopped and the moment was suspended in time. Joy. 

And suddenly the critical self-talk and heaviness was gone. HE SAID “MAMA” J

You're Great...

When Keith and I were dating and engaged, we had the opportunity to spend a lot of time with a family who had four young children.  We got to glimpse family life up close, and yet, we proceeded (they say love is blind) J 

One of the many things I learned from the mom of this family, who is incredibly hard working and organized, was an idea that I’ve implemented in my own family. She has a plate that says, “You’re Special” on it and uses it to celebrate birthdays, good report cards, a great basketball game, etc.  Hers is really cute and probably from Pottery Barn or Crate & Barrel or Etsy.  Anyway, ours isn’t “designer”, but the boys LOVE it!

We made it through a Crayola-Create-Your-Own-Plate-Kit along with several other plates as a Christmas present to Keith a few years ago.  They have some similar items on amazon.  It is amazing how much it means to the boys to get the “You’re Great Plate”.  (It also serves well when you don’t want your two-year-old to use the fine china everyone else is using, while helping him feel special.) 

The joy they get at being told directly, “You’re Great”, is a good reminder how much they long for our affirmation and praise.   In fact, we all need that.  The other day, my oldest set the table and gave me the “You’re Great Plate” and it made my night.  We could all use a little pat on the back sometimes.

Therefore encourage one another and build one another up"

1 Thessalonians 5:11

Deals, Deals, Deals

In an effort to save money I’ve been doing more “extreme couponing”.  This involves matching coupons with sale items to get things sometimes free or very cheap.  On average I save about 50% on groceries, which is great.  However, it also involves lots of time and energy searching for the best deals, printing off coupons online, cutting coupons from the Sunday paper, organizing the coupons, and tracking sales. There are several websites that help with this, but it still takes time.  I also am not sure I’m actually saving any money at all because I buy more of the items on sale than I otherwise would and sometimes I’m buying things I would never buy otherwise. 

For example, I can get breakfast cereal on sale super cheap this way. So what, kids, if you don’t like All Bran? It was only $1/box. Nevermind that you use a dollars worth of sugar on it just to choke it down.

So I’m still perfecting my system and determining how to make this work best for us.  Sometimes it’s a hassle, like when I’m in Target with children trying to find a certain coupon to know how many Skippy Peanut Butters I need to buy to use my coupon, but it can also be kind of like a game… I was trying to explain it to my husband and the best analogy I could use was Texas Hold ‘Em.  You know how you want to kick yourself when you fold on a hand that you would have won on? That’s how I feel when I buy something and then later realize I could have gotten it cheaper somewhere else.   But when I know I got a great deal, I feel like I won somehow.

Anyway, if you too are a “thrifty” mom, here are a couple of my favorite tips, sites, etc.

1)      If your children go through hand soap like there is no tomorrow: buy a foaming hand soap (like Dial). After it’s gone (in like a week around here)… fill it about a fourth of the way full with any kind of soap (suave body wash, softsoap hand soap, etc) and the rest of the way with water. Shake and voila … hand soap at ¼ the cost!

2)      http://www.frugalmom.net/blog/

3)      http://passionatepennypincher.com/

4)      Often cities will have their own sites like http://www.denvermetromoms.com/ or http://www.kansascitymamas.com/

5)      http://organizingmadefun.blogspot.com/2011/09/31-days-to-cheaply-organize-your-home_30.html

6)      http://kidsactivitiesblog.com/save-money/

7)      http://penniesandblessings.com/2011/10/12-ways-of-christmas-ways-of-frugal-gifting/

8)      Also, Aldi is great which now has milk for $1.99. Their generic brands of chips, crackers, cereal, etc have been great.

9)      Amazon Mom Subscribe and Save can be great for diapers and other items… 20% off delivered right to your door.

10)   Costco also can be great for some items.  http://www.kansascitymamas.com/2012/01/costco-deals-top-15-list/

"He Gives Us Wine To Gladden Our Hearts"

I think sometimes we are afraid to pray because we think God is going to ask us to do something we don’t want to do, give up something we don’t want to give up, change something we don’t want to change, or add to the sense of guilt we already carry around us like a heavy burden.

But Jesus says, “My yoke is easy and my burden light”.  What does this mean?  Let me tell you a story of something that happened to me recently.

As I mentioned in my last post, money has been a little tight, and I’d recently resolved to really stay within our budget… hard core… like Dave Ramsey style.

My husband was working late several nights in a row and I had felt fried, frustrated, and desperately wanted a glass of wine.  I white-knuckled it for a few nights, but after a particularly bad day with the kids, I stopped and bought a bottle of my favorite red, Menage a Trois.

This wasn’t in the “spending plan”, but compared to a trip to the looney bin, I figured it was cheap therapy. J I did have a hint of lingering guilt however.

After I finally got the kids to bed, and poured myself a glass, I remembered that the next day was  my women’s bible study on The Mass by Dr. Edward Sri.  I knew I didn’t have the mental or spiritual capacity to do all the reading and prep that I was supposed to do, but I figured I’d at least look at the one question that I specifically had been assigned.  This is what I read:

“You bring bread forth from the earth and wine to gladden our hearts” – Psalm 104:15

“Wine is very life to man if taken in moderation. Does he really live who lacks the wine which was created for his joy?” – Sirach 31:27

“Chief of all needs for human life are water and fire, iron and salt, The heart of the wheat, milk and honey, the blood of the grape, and oil and cloth” Sirach 39:26

And I smiled and laughed and felt very loved by such a tender and gentle God who has such a great sense of humor.  And I decided that despite all my Bible Studies, and classes, and years of doing ministry, I still don’t really know God.  He surprises me and is not who I expect sometimes.

So while I fall into the trap sometimes of thinking of prayer as one more thing on a long list of personal needs that I have trouble finding the time to meet, I am reminded when I do take the time that this is not just one more task to cross off the list. This is about relationship with a God who loves me.

And I added a line item in our spending plan for wine. J

Financial Skydiving

My husband and I have tried (although imperfectly) to follow what we believe is God's will for us, even sometimes if it doesn't make financial sense.  God has proven time and time again, that indeed, "all these things shall be added unto you" (Mt 6:33).  

Despite this, we sometimes worry and stress out about finances.  One morning, as Keith and I were talking, I said, “I guess I’m waiting on God to solve this financial problem for us”.  He said he felt the same way. We have been entrusting the situation to God in prayer and have seen His ability to provide enough times to know that He can indeed solve this problem.

That same day… I opened a Christmas card with no return address with $300 in cash inside.  That same day. Amazing.   While that didn't solve our problem completely, it was as if God Himself had written me and said, “Trust Me”. 

Fast forward a few weeks later when the surprise and gratitude of that gift had begun to wear off and a new bill came in the mail, I began to worry once again.  My toddler brought me a book and asked me to read it to him. I told him it was a book for grown ups. Wouldn’t he rather read “The Grinch”?  But he insisted and I read:

“It is important to know one thing: We cannot experience this support from God unless we leave Him the necessary space in which He can express Himself.  I would like to make a comparison.  As long as a person who must jump with a parachute does not jump out into the void, he cannot feel that the cords of the parachute will support him, because the parachute has not yet had a chance to open.  One must first jump and it is only later that one feels carried.  And so it is in the spiritual life: ‘God gives in the measure we expect of him,’ says Saint John of the Cross.  And Saint Francis de Sales says, 'The measure of Divine Providence acting on us is the degree of confidence we have in it.'” 

                        -Father Jacques Philippe “Searching for and Maintaining Peace”

I am humbled and amazed by the many ways God finds to speak to us.  How He knows just what we need and gently and loving encourages us.  And I do feel like we have jumped and are feeling those parachute strings holding us… now we’re just hoping for a nice soft landing.  Having jumped many times before, I am growing more and more in my trust in God’s providential chute. I just wish I could enjoy the beautiful view from up here a little more and worry a little less. J

Time Management

“The heart has become a battlefield between love and lust” – John Paul II

I think JP II wasn’t just speaking of sexual lust, although in this culture especially it certainly is a real struggle. I think our hearts struggle with all kinds of lust… lust for comfort, for pleasure, for material goods, for affirmation, for power, for food and drink, for just about any good. I know lately with four small children I have struggled with a lust for time. With so few moments to myself, when I finally get a chance to have some time, I want to hoard it. I don’t even want to share it with God in prayer, even though He’s the one person who is guaranteed to give more than he takes from me, who is the author of time, and who can actually give me the peace I seek.

My husband read this first paragraph and said, “lust for time?...that doesn’t really work. Maybe a need for time or desire for time, but lust?” I replied that he only felt that way because he isn’t a mom.  A mother with young children actually lusts for time to herself.

An example: It’s naptime. On the agenda for me is some much needed prayer time, a workout (just 20 minutes of Jillian Michael’s 30 Day Shred… I mean who can’t talk themselves into 20 minutes) and a shower (also much needed). If I’m really lucky, maybe I’ll even shave. I'm tempted to scrap it all and take a nap myself. But first I sit down at the computer (of course, since that was nowhere on the list of things to do). I spend at least ten minutes looking at all kinds of things… some more worthwhile than others… from this

(Star Wars Superbowl Commercial falls under the less worthwhile)

to this

October Baby - In Theaters March 2012!

to this

http://momastery.com/blog/2012/01/04/2011-lesson-2-dont-carpe-diem/

Then I drag myself away from the computer and open up the Bible for that needed prayer time (although the voice in my head is getting louder saying just to get a few minutes of shut eye too). Oh, but I notice that my two year old left his play-doh out and it’s getting hard and ruined by the minute… better put it away.

By this point I hear my two year old who hasn’t napped in five days singing loudly. Loud enough, I’m afraid, to wake the baby. So I go in there and instead of threatening him within an inch of his life (which is what I’m tempted to do) I try and calm him down, rub his back, and leave. But while I’m trying to quiet my two year old the baby wakes up… what? 30 minutes? That’s it? Didn’t anyone around here get the memo that this is nap time? It’s only 1:00. A good two hours before school pick up and you boys are supposed to be sleeping! This is my only chance. For self-improvement, for change, for basic hygiene for goodness sakes!

And so my lust for time is left unsatiated and I’m reminded that nothing will make me more improved, holier, or happier, than doing God’s will in the present moment, which apparently doesn’t look the way I thought it would.