"If a child can't learn the way we teach, maybe we should teach the way they learn." -Ignacio Estrada
"I could never homeschool." -Me
In this previous post I mentioned that there was a step 3 our family is taking. After Ezekiel was born, not long after the New Year, I felt something creeping up inside me. It was this desire to start on a homeschooling path with the kids. I knew this idea could not be of my own making because I have always had the opinion of my own personal quote above.
Homeschool? Are you kidding me?? I can't wait to send my kids to school! All of them! Take them now and let me have my independence and quiet and a whole day to read a book if I want to! I couldn't be around all my kids all day for the rest of the time they're at home. I'm not qualified to teach them. I didn't study education in school! Who am I to teach my own kids??
Wait, what?
Yet somehow this homeschool idea kept creeping in on me. So began the mental and emotional struggle. I had to spring the idea onto Tim. Many prayers were sent up. We spent months talking to other families who educate their children at home or who were themselves educated by their parents. The decision was not entered into lightly. After all, I also had to overcome this feeling that I was going to mess up my kids by not sending them to off to school.
Here are factors that helped us reach our decision:
*We are realizing how fast life is speeding by. It sounds, oh-so-cliche, but if you have kids, I'm sure you feel it, too. With each child we've welcomed into life, we've also been surprised by how quickly their first birthday seems to come upon us. Noah was only in half-day kindergarten last year and it felt like we had so little time together. There was already homework every night. And we weren't even into full day school or sports or after-school activities! Are we going to be sending him off to college at 18 realizing that the majority of the hours of his day were spent away from us already? Are we going to wish we had more time training him ourselves?
*We aren't a lazy family by any means and our kids recognize the importance of being somewhere on time, but I am not a fan of our lives being controlled by the school system. Drop them off at this time, pick them up now, this is when your Christmas break is, Spring Break, summer vacation, here are some random days off while our teachers are in-service or just because. Tim is self-employed and contracted by someone so he has the flexibility of time off when he needs/wants it. We could take a vacation during off-peak travel times and not have to worry about school absences, missed schoolwork, etc.
*I love that we can make their education bigger than it is within the walls of a school. Our field trips can be as small as the zoo or museum, or as big as a trip to DC, Gettysburg, Niagara Falls, etc. We are going to use the Charlotte Mason style of teaching, which is big on "living books" - not just dry textbooks, but books that come alive for the kids. I also like that there are people in our life who can become part of their education, and we have people who are excited about this as well, already asking if they can teach them certain topics. The whole "It takes a village" mentality is taking on a different form.
*This isn't about sheltering our kids. We're in a great school system and I plan on taking this one year at a time. If, for some reason, we feel homeschooling is not the best option for our kids, then at least we don't have a problem putting them back in the school district that we live in. We're not worried about their social lives either. They have neighbor kids, cousins their age, friends from church, friends that are the children of our friends, and are going to be involved with upcoming things this year - Ellie in gymnastics and beginning piano lessons and Noah in soccer. I want my kids to learn about different subjects, things like world religions - but I want it to be taught by Tim and myself, not a teacher who may put our faith on the same level as the others.
*The quote at the very top is another big reason for our decision. Our kids have different learning styles. All kids do. You put 20+ kids with multiple learning styles in a classroom with 1 teacher and you can't expect that teacher to teach each kid in the learning style that is best for them. We will be able to tailor our teaching to their learning style. Noah has a little engineer mind, he is crazy for Legos and anything that he can create and build with. He loves math and directions. Ellie is a free spirit. She is creative, artsy and flowing. She likes to move while learning. If she needs to do jumping jacks or run around the room between answering questions, then she can have the freedom to do that. I don't want her to be labeled as a distraction or ADD or ADHD just because she needs some wiggle room.
*The other thing that weighs heavily on me is that, if God gave us these kids to care for, teach, and train up during their time on earth, then why am I so quick to want to send them off to have someone else do those things in my place? If a child can complete most of their studies in less than 4 hours at home, why are they in school all day? When I told one of my friends I was going to homeschool, she asked if I had the desire to work outside the home, and how was I going to do that if they weren't in school? But the things is - I don't. I have zero desire in me whatsoever to work outside the home right now or at any point, really. What I really want to do is write and I can do that anywhere and anytime that I am able. I want to volunteer with different causes at some point, but I don't want to hold an office job or the like. And, like my friend, Lacey, said (summarized) - when all my kids are in school, I would probably sit at home on my behind eating chocolate and being lazy. I'm not going to lie, there are days that idea sounds really appealing!
So that is our big step we're taking. Thankfully, we have friends and family who homeschool their children and have already been a wonderful support system as we start this journey. There are also multiple families we know who are also getting started homeschooling, so we don't feel as scared or inadequate since we're all in the same boat.
Am I nervous? Terrified!
Am I excited? Absolutely!
I nailed down the different curriculum books I want to use for this coming year and had butterflies in my stomach earlier today just from reading over the descriptions and with the excitement of finalizing the decisions.
And, thankfully, I have the assurance that I don't have the strength to do this - but God does. That there are going to be days I heavily rely on His patience, guidance, and strength to get our family through the day. But, really, isn't every day of parenting like that already? This is not a decision for everyone, but it's the decision we've made in our family's best interest.
We owe a huge thank you to people who have helped us - not by telling us what decision to make - but by offering advice, wisdom, listening ears, and experience. You all know who you are. =)
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
"Get Noah!"
Our friends, the Nashes, are missionaries in Rwanda with the organization City of Joy. They are back here for the next couple of months and tonight they are staying at our house. We have been so excited to see them and spend time together since it's been a year and that visit was a very short one. Our playroom doubles as our guest room so after Noah's swim lesson this morning, we came home and got to work on picking up toys and cleaning the room.
Now, I don't know what you wear when you clean, but I'll just say right now that today I was wearing yoga pants, a t-shirt and had taken off my bra. I use the reasoning of the connection between bra-wearing and breast cancer to justify my freedom while at home without company. Anyways, rabbit trailing, but important information you'll need to know for later.
So. The toys are finally picked up and I have just sent the kids off to place elsewhere because who wants kids in a room that was just organized? I also have to vacuum still. We have a Rainbow Vacuum that we bought after Noah was born. The thing cleans amazingly well and is great for those with allergies and asthma but it's a beast because it's a big, heavy bagless canister (the only downside to it) that uses water. After you have vacuumed, you dump out the water and are embarrassed/rewarded by seeing all the nasty junk you just cleaned off a floor you thought was maybe kind of decent at least.
I went out the door to the backyard and to the place I dump the dirty water. As I try to open the door to go back inside, I realize it's locked. Not the lock on the handle, the dead bolt. I hear a little noise and look down to see a mop of brown hair trying to turn the door handle. It looks up at me. "Mama?"
"Caleb!" I shout so he can hear me. "Unlock the door!"
Well, somehow those hands were able to turn and lock the deadbolt but aren't strong enough to turn and unlock it. And he's trying. It's just not happening. I need a new tactic.
"Caleb!" I shout again. "Go get Noah!"
He stares at me.
"Go get Ellie!" I try again.
I can hear him say in his adorable and excited tone, "Eh-ya-ya?" (That's how he has always said his name and now it sticks for him, no thanks to Ellie, who refers to herself as Eh-ya-ya when talking to him. 'I'm over here, Caleb. Eh-ya-ya is in the living room.')
He turns to run off and then stops a few feet away to look back at me.
"That's it!" I yell. "Go get Ellie! Get Noah!"
Now, yes, there is a spare key hidden somewhere. And, yes, I could have probably found it, but it only opens the front door and this is where that tidbit of information from earlier comes in - I have no bra on. And I have nosy neighbors of elderly age.
Instead of continuing to run off, he runs back with a big smile on his face. I see him run back in to the laundry room, past the door and then he comes back a moment later with a laundry basket. He turns it upside down to climb on top of it. To see me better so we can talk. Through the glass on the door.
"Eh-ya-ya?" he asks.
"GO GET ELLIE! GO GET NOAH!"
Instead he starts to fiddle around more with the deadbolt and jabber to me in his own little speech-impaired toddler language.
I hear a click.
I try the door.
It's open!
I slowly open it a few inches while encouraging Caleb to get off the basket and out of my way so I can come in without trampling him. As he runs off, happy to have helped Mom (although he got me into the predicament in the first place) I notice he's not wearing pants.
Life has never been dull since having children.
Now, I don't know what you wear when you clean, but I'll just say right now that today I was wearing yoga pants, a t-shirt and had taken off my bra. I use the reasoning of the connection between bra-wearing and breast cancer to justify my freedom while at home without company. Anyways, rabbit trailing, but important information you'll need to know for later.
So. The toys are finally picked up and I have just sent the kids off to place elsewhere because who wants kids in a room that was just organized? I also have to vacuum still. We have a Rainbow Vacuum that we bought after Noah was born. The thing cleans amazingly well and is great for those with allergies and asthma but it's a beast because it's a big, heavy bagless canister (the only downside to it) that uses water. After you have vacuumed, you dump out the water and are embarrassed/rewarded by seeing all the nasty junk you just cleaned off a floor you thought was maybe kind of decent at least.
I went out the door to the backyard and to the place I dump the dirty water. As I try to open the door to go back inside, I realize it's locked. Not the lock on the handle, the dead bolt. I hear a little noise and look down to see a mop of brown hair trying to turn the door handle. It looks up at me. "Mama?"
"Caleb!" I shout so he can hear me. "Unlock the door!"
Well, somehow those hands were able to turn and lock the deadbolt but aren't strong enough to turn and unlock it. And he's trying. It's just not happening. I need a new tactic.
"Caleb!" I shout again. "Go get Noah!"
He stares at me.
"Go get Ellie!" I try again.
I can hear him say in his adorable and excited tone, "Eh-ya-ya?" (That's how he has always said his name and now it sticks for him, no thanks to Ellie, who refers to herself as Eh-ya-ya when talking to him. 'I'm over here, Caleb. Eh-ya-ya is in the living room.')
He turns to run off and then stops a few feet away to look back at me.
"That's it!" I yell. "Go get Ellie! Get Noah!"
Now, yes, there is a spare key hidden somewhere. And, yes, I could have probably found it, but it only opens the front door and this is where that tidbit of information from earlier comes in - I have no bra on. And I have nosy neighbors of elderly age.
Instead of continuing to run off, he runs back with a big smile on his face. I see him run back in to the laundry room, past the door and then he comes back a moment later with a laundry basket. He turns it upside down to climb on top of it. To see me better so we can talk. Through the glass on the door.
"Eh-ya-ya?" he asks.
"GO GET ELLIE! GO GET NOAH!"
Instead he starts to fiddle around more with the deadbolt and jabber to me in his own little speech-impaired toddler language.
I hear a click.
I try the door.
It's open!
I slowly open it a few inches while encouraging Caleb to get off the basket and out of my way so I can come in without trampling him. As he runs off, happy to have helped Mom (although he got me into the predicament in the first place) I notice he's not wearing pants.
Life has never been dull since having children.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
I've Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy...or do I?
Back in November, Tim's grandma passed away. We dropped off the kids at my parents' house and, at 37 weeks pregnant, drove to Virginia to attend the funeral. She was Tim's last living grandparent, the one we named our Eleanor after, and a wonderful and godly woman. We are thankful for the trips we made in the last few years to visit her and give the kids the opportunity to meet her, whether they remember it one day or not.
It was a long road trip for such a short amount of time (spending an afternoon driving to Ohio, staying the night and waking up early to hustle it to Virginia for the funeral and family visiting, and waking up early the next morning to book it back to Michigan.) However, it gave Tim and I a wonderful amount of time to spend talking with no interruptions and the ability to really hear each other. During the week leading up to our unexpected trip, we had started going over questions from a post a pastor had put on his blog (found through Pinterest.)
There are 50 questions and they start out pretty basic and work their way up (or down, if we're talking depth here.) A question came up, I can't remember which or the way it was worded, and I hesitated before asking it to Tim. I knew in my heart the answer and was scared his would be the same and I would be...caught, if you will. Found out. I may be forced to face an issue I didn't want to talk about. I asked the question.
And waited while he hesitated. I could see him weighing in his mind how to form an answer and I knew, I just knew, what he was going to say.
"I know you love our kids," he said and then paused again before carefully weighing his words. "But I wonder sometimes if you really like them. You know, if they're just something else or more in your life."
That's when I started to cry.
And when I had to face reality.
Because no matter how hard you try to hide some things, it just doesn't work. Tim can see right through me. It's one of the things that makes us such a good pair: we know each other even when we think we're hiding our emotions or true thoughts from the other. And we're committed enough to call each other out, even if it's hard, because we know the importance of working it out.
So I finally laid bare the emotions, thoughts and struggles that I had been keeping to myself.
I told him how I was having a hard time reconciling reality to the way I thought life was going to be. I only wanted 2 kids - I was at that time pregnant with my fourth. I thought at that point we would be done with diapers, teething, sleepless nights. We would be able to take family vacations that weren't so limited by age, strollers, and swim diapers. I could go to the grocery store with 2 children able to responsibly walk beside the cart instead of having to ride in it or get the cart with the bench that sits 2 kids, along with the child riding in the seat of the cart. I thought we could go to the beach without having to worry about who was eating sand. I thought I would have more time for me.
I told Tim I was having trouble finding joy in my life. I would listen to all these people talk about how wonderful my kids are, how well behaved and respectful and kind and on and on and on. I would smile and nod my head and think, what's wrong with me??
I pretty much verbally vomited on him.
He's amazing, my husband. He listened and we talked about it. After the funeral, I talked to my sister-in-law about it and she gave wonderful counsel. (Check out her blog here. She has a passion for women seeking Truth.)
It was almost as if getting all that out was like a deep cleansing of my soul. I felt better voicing it, like I was able to conquer lies because I had put name and voice to my fears and struggles. I felt new.
Then Ezekiel was born. I was shocked at how deeply and quickly I fell in love with him. It almost scared me, really. With the other ones it seemed like it took a bit to feel that connection but the moment I saw him and made eye contact, I was a goner.
And I knew.
I knew that some choices Tim and I had made in the van driving back from Virginia were the right choices. I had decided to finish out my job with the school year. I loved the people I was working with and the program I was working for. I was working part time, from home, and it was harder than I thought to do that. It was competing with my kids for my time and often I was choosing work over them. I was taking frustrations out on my family that they didn't deserve.
Step one was going to be choosing to live joyfully. I had a hunger to find joy in every day. This can be done with a thankful heart. After making this decision, I started reading One Thousand Gifts and it was as if God was affirming what I had just been through and what I could hear Him telling me. If you haven't read the book, you really should.
Step two was going to be finishing out my job and leaving. My kids needed more than my leftovers. They needed a mom who is actively in their lives. I was physically present and mentally absent.
Step three...well, that's for another day and another post as it is a long one.
"Joy is the serious business of heaven." -C.S. Lewis
Lord, thank you for my children - ALL of them. Help me to appreciate and find joy in the chaos of each day. Amen.
It was a long road trip for such a short amount of time (spending an afternoon driving to Ohio, staying the night and waking up early to hustle it to Virginia for the funeral and family visiting, and waking up early the next morning to book it back to Michigan.) However, it gave Tim and I a wonderful amount of time to spend talking with no interruptions and the ability to really hear each other. During the week leading up to our unexpected trip, we had started going over questions from a post a pastor had put on his blog (found through Pinterest.)
There are 50 questions and they start out pretty basic and work their way up (or down, if we're talking depth here.) A question came up, I can't remember which or the way it was worded, and I hesitated before asking it to Tim. I knew in my heart the answer and was scared his would be the same and I would be...caught, if you will. Found out. I may be forced to face an issue I didn't want to talk about. I asked the question.
And waited while he hesitated. I could see him weighing in his mind how to form an answer and I knew, I just knew, what he was going to say.
"I know you love our kids," he said and then paused again before carefully weighing his words. "But I wonder sometimes if you really like them. You know, if they're just something else or more in your life."
That's when I started to cry.
And when I had to face reality.
Because no matter how hard you try to hide some things, it just doesn't work. Tim can see right through me. It's one of the things that makes us such a good pair: we know each other even when we think we're hiding our emotions or true thoughts from the other. And we're committed enough to call each other out, even if it's hard, because we know the importance of working it out.
So I finally laid bare the emotions, thoughts and struggles that I had been keeping to myself.
I told him how I was having a hard time reconciling reality to the way I thought life was going to be. I only wanted 2 kids - I was at that time pregnant with my fourth. I thought at that point we would be done with diapers, teething, sleepless nights. We would be able to take family vacations that weren't so limited by age, strollers, and swim diapers. I could go to the grocery store with 2 children able to responsibly walk beside the cart instead of having to ride in it or get the cart with the bench that sits 2 kids, along with the child riding in the seat of the cart. I thought we could go to the beach without having to worry about who was eating sand. I thought I would have more time for me.
I told Tim I was having trouble finding joy in my life. I would listen to all these people talk about how wonderful my kids are, how well behaved and respectful and kind and on and on and on. I would smile and nod my head and think, what's wrong with me??
I pretty much verbally vomited on him.
He's amazing, my husband. He listened and we talked about it. After the funeral, I talked to my sister-in-law about it and she gave wonderful counsel. (Check out her blog here. She has a passion for women seeking Truth.)
It was almost as if getting all that out was like a deep cleansing of my soul. I felt better voicing it, like I was able to conquer lies because I had put name and voice to my fears and struggles. I felt new.
Then Ezekiel was born. I was shocked at how deeply and quickly I fell in love with him. It almost scared me, really. With the other ones it seemed like it took a bit to feel that connection but the moment I saw him and made eye contact, I was a goner.
And I knew.
I knew that some choices Tim and I had made in the van driving back from Virginia were the right choices. I had decided to finish out my job with the school year. I loved the people I was working with and the program I was working for. I was working part time, from home, and it was harder than I thought to do that. It was competing with my kids for my time and often I was choosing work over them. I was taking frustrations out on my family that they didn't deserve.
Step one was going to be choosing to live joyfully. I had a hunger to find joy in every day. This can be done with a thankful heart. After making this decision, I started reading One Thousand Gifts and it was as if God was affirming what I had just been through and what I could hear Him telling me. If you haven't read the book, you really should.
Step two was going to be finishing out my job and leaving. My kids needed more than my leftovers. They needed a mom who is actively in their lives. I was physically present and mentally absent.
Step three...well, that's for another day and another post as it is a long one.
"Joy is the serious business of heaven." -C.S. Lewis
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Dear Mom...
"Her children rise up and call her blessed" -Proverbs 31:28
Mom,
I remember the first time, after Noah was born, when I called you and thanked you for everything you did as a mom. It wasn't until I became one that I really realized what being a stay-at-home mom meant.
When Noah became a toddler, I discovered how many meals you either had to re-heat or eat cold. I found out how you can collapse on a couch in the evening and feel exhausted while also wondering if you managed to accomplish anything during the day. Thank you for your sacrifices, Mom.
When Eleanor has her sassy moments and she is willfully disobedient and drives me insane, I am amazed that you were able to raise two daughters. I remember the way Stephanie and I used to fight. Thank you for not strangling us, Mom.
When Caleb struggles with his speech and I take the extra time to help him hear the word, form his mouth, and try again, I think of the times you made flash cards to help us learn. You read countless library books to us. Thank you for being a teacher, Mom.
When Ezekiel is supposed to be burping but instead curls up against me and nestles his face into my neck as he falls asleep, I am reminded that my original life plans didn't have a fourth child in them and I am so very, very thankful that God changed my plans. I know, Mom, there are days you regret not going to college. Thank you for encouraging me to go, to leave home when I graduated, to experience life a bit before settling down with a family.
I hope you can see, Mom, how your decisions have had a lasting impact, are always leaving a legacy.
I know that, in the last couple years, especially, you have struggled with feeling like a failure and a bad mom. You're not. I never thought you were. Thank you, also, for welcoming Tim into our family, for loving him as a son, for encouraging him in and giving him verbal affirmation with his talents and abilities. He loves you as well.
And just as I hope my kids do this for me one day, I forgive you, Mom. For all the times I may not remember, that you may carry guilt over, I forgive you. I know there are days when I think, I hope my kids don't remember all the times I failed today and this moment I've lost my patience, lost my mind. I hope they forgive me for days like these. I forgive you for passing on a spirit of worry and anxiety that your mom passed on to you. I forgive you for decisions you made that had effects on our family. I know you're not perfect. Thankfully, you know that more important than my forgiveness, is God's.
Thank you, most of all, for passing on that most important fact in life. Thank you for teaching me about God's love, forgiveness, and saving grace. As I have become an adult and grown older, I appreciate and enjoy watching you grow in your faith and encourage me in mine. Thank you for teaching me that it is a journey and we always have room to grow and learn.
You are a blessing, Mom. You are blessed. You bless others.
I love you.
Andrea
Mom,
I remember the first time, after Noah was born, when I called you and thanked you for everything you did as a mom. It wasn't until I became one that I really realized what being a stay-at-home mom meant.
When Noah became a toddler, I discovered how many meals you either had to re-heat or eat cold. I found out how you can collapse on a couch in the evening and feel exhausted while also wondering if you managed to accomplish anything during the day. Thank you for your sacrifices, Mom.
When Eleanor has her sassy moments and she is willfully disobedient and drives me insane, I am amazed that you were able to raise two daughters. I remember the way Stephanie and I used to fight. Thank you for not strangling us, Mom.
When Caleb struggles with his speech and I take the extra time to help him hear the word, form his mouth, and try again, I think of the times you made flash cards to help us learn. You read countless library books to us. Thank you for being a teacher, Mom.
When Ezekiel is supposed to be burping but instead curls up against me and nestles his face into my neck as he falls asleep, I am reminded that my original life plans didn't have a fourth child in them and I am so very, very thankful that God changed my plans. I know, Mom, there are days you regret not going to college. Thank you for encouraging me to go, to leave home when I graduated, to experience life a bit before settling down with a family.
I hope you can see, Mom, how your decisions have had a lasting impact, are always leaving a legacy.
I know that, in the last couple years, especially, you have struggled with feeling like a failure and a bad mom. You're not. I never thought you were. Thank you, also, for welcoming Tim into our family, for loving him as a son, for encouraging him in and giving him verbal affirmation with his talents and abilities. He loves you as well.
And just as I hope my kids do this for me one day, I forgive you, Mom. For all the times I may not remember, that you may carry guilt over, I forgive you. I know there are days when I think, I hope my kids don't remember all the times I failed today and this moment I've lost my patience, lost my mind. I hope they forgive me for days like these. I forgive you for passing on a spirit of worry and anxiety that your mom passed on to you. I forgive you for decisions you made that had effects on our family. I know you're not perfect. Thankfully, you know that more important than my forgiveness, is God's.
Thank you, most of all, for passing on that most important fact in life. Thank you for teaching me about God's love, forgiveness, and saving grace. As I have become an adult and grown older, I appreciate and enjoy watching you grow in your faith and encourage me in mine. Thank you for teaching me that it is a journey and we always have room to grow and learn.
You are a blessing, Mom. You are blessed. You bless others.
I love you.
Andrea
Monday, April 09, 2012
Thoughts Merging
It is quiet at my parents' house. Outside, that is. Huddled in a warm hooded sweatshirt and surrounded by a blanket, I sit on their back deck in crisp morning air. Alone.
I listen to birds twittering and calling and take pause when they fly to the bird feeders just feet away from where I sit. Chickadees and finches flit quickly about. My parents live on ten acres and I look forward into a wooded area.
Rest. Peace. Quiet. I find myself thinking of them often, longing for them, writing of them. Probably because with four kids under six years old, I don't have much quiet or rest. Sometimes I find myself anxious for the days when my kids are older - teenagers who sleep in, and I have the opportunity to wake up and drink a cup of chai by myself.
As I stare at the yard and the grass so green in April, I can already imagine summer visits here. I can visualize Ellie in a sundress - how she loves dresses right now - running like the tornado she is, barefoot through the grass. I can see the bruises and scrapes covering the legs of little adventurous boys, telltale markings of summer. Dirty feet and knees and fingernails. Skin kissed by the sun. Ezekiel learning to crawl and discovering this new outdoor land.
The land I grew up on myself. Running in and between clothes drying on a long line stretched between two posts. Gleeful shrieks coming from four-wheeler rides with Grandpa. Adventure walks back into the woods. I should take them on a picnic back there this year. Running after bubbles and through sprinklers and falling onto soft green blades of mowed grass.
Soon my own childhood memories mix with my visions of future moments with my children and I see them juxtaposed. It stops me and I think of how I enjoyed being a kid in the summer. How I have days when I long to go back. And it hits me that so many days I want life to speed up to get to "easier times and ages" of the kids and I realize -
Why would I want to wish these away for them?
I listen to birds twittering and calling and take pause when they fly to the bird feeders just feet away from where I sit. Chickadees and finches flit quickly about. My parents live on ten acres and I look forward into a wooded area.
Rest. Peace. Quiet. I find myself thinking of them often, longing for them, writing of them. Probably because with four kids under six years old, I don't have much quiet or rest. Sometimes I find myself anxious for the days when my kids are older - teenagers who sleep in, and I have the opportunity to wake up and drink a cup of chai by myself.
As I stare at the yard and the grass so green in April, I can already imagine summer visits here. I can visualize Ellie in a sundress - how she loves dresses right now - running like the tornado she is, barefoot through the grass. I can see the bruises and scrapes covering the legs of little adventurous boys, telltale markings of summer. Dirty feet and knees and fingernails. Skin kissed by the sun. Ezekiel learning to crawl and discovering this new outdoor land.
The land I grew up on myself. Running in and between clothes drying on a long line stretched between two posts. Gleeful shrieks coming from four-wheeler rides with Grandpa. Adventure walks back into the woods. I should take them on a picnic back there this year. Running after bubbles and through sprinklers and falling onto soft green blades of mowed grass.
Soon my own childhood memories mix with my visions of future moments with my children and I see them juxtaposed. It stops me and I think of how I enjoyed being a kid in the summer. How I have days when I long to go back. And it hits me that so many days I want life to speed up to get to "easier times and ages" of the kids and I realize -
Why would I want to wish these away for them?
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
His Imagination is Growing
They came.
By helicopter and rescue vehicle they came.
By motorcycle they came.
In a large mass with briefcases and in uniforms they came.
By motorcycle they came.
In a large mass with briefcases and in uniforms they came.
And after they worked at their stations,
And after they put away bad guys...
They made one boy very happy to show off his creation.
They made one boy very happy to show off his creation.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Tea?
A couple months ago, on a day when Tim was home from work, Noah was at school, a very tired Caleb was catching up with a morning nap, along with a sleeping newborn, Tim and I invited Ellie to a tea party while playing a Fancy Nancy card game. She accepted and we donned our finest.
Cupcakes and cranberry juice were served.
And we ate every last morsel.Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Springter!
Happy first day of spring!
Although, we had such a mild winter for Michigan, and the last few days have been in the '80s and sunny, that it feels like we skipped spring and wait straight to summer. I keep having to remind myself that we're only in March, yet it feels like school should be ending anytime now. Flowers are starting to grow, buds are coming in on trees, mosquitoes have made their appearance...yuck on that one. My kids are covered in sweat and dirt most days as they come in from afternoons spent building forts, pretending to guard castles, and chasing down robbers stealing from banks. It is fun to watch how their imaginations have grown in the past year and how differently they play outside now compared to last summer. It's an entirely new world for them in the backyard.
We have changes that are going to happen in our family - NO, there are no more babies expected, so clear that one out of your head. I am going to wait a little longer in announcing it, just until it gets closer to the time.
I love all the newness of springtime, all the rebirth. God brought us out of a rough winter and we are especially basking in His warmth and goodness after being in a desert land. Great is His faithfulness, indeed!
I'll leave you with some photos from a recent trip to Meijer Gardens. The butterflies are out and flying around!
Noah and Caleb check out what's outside the window.
As does Ellie, who wore foam curlers in her hair for the first time the night before.
Although, we had such a mild winter for Michigan, and the last few days have been in the '80s and sunny, that it feels like we skipped spring and wait straight to summer. I keep having to remind myself that we're only in March, yet it feels like school should be ending anytime now. Flowers are starting to grow, buds are coming in on trees, mosquitoes have made their appearance...yuck on that one. My kids are covered in sweat and dirt most days as they come in from afternoons spent building forts, pretending to guard castles, and chasing down robbers stealing from banks. It is fun to watch how their imaginations have grown in the past year and how differently they play outside now compared to last summer. It's an entirely new world for them in the backyard.
We have changes that are going to happen in our family - NO, there are no more babies expected, so clear that one out of your head. I am going to wait a little longer in announcing it, just until it gets closer to the time.
I love all the newness of springtime, all the rebirth. God brought us out of a rough winter and we are especially basking in His warmth and goodness after being in a desert land. Great is His faithfulness, indeed!
I'll leave you with some photos from a recent trip to Meijer Gardens. The butterflies are out and flying around!
Noah and Caleb check out what's outside the window.
As does Ellie, who wore foam curlers in her hair for the first time the night before.Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Rest
It is quiet in the house tonight. Noah and Tim are at AWANA. I am home with a tired Caleb, a just-shy-of-healthy Eleanor, and Ezekiel, who is napping before his next feeding.
The living room is dimly lit, just enough to read and write without straining eyes. In the dining room, a candle burns bright in the middle of the table. Bon Iver's music is softly streaming from the kitchen.
It is late February and at almost 7:00 it is not quite dark yet, a wonderful sneak peek of longer - and warmer - days just around the corner.
The scene is ideal, isn't it? Why? This is not what our home was like just two hours ago. At that time, the kids were noisily chasing each other through the house while i tried to tell Ellie to lay on the couch and rest. Tim was trying to calm a crying 10-week-old who knew it was time for his dinner as I stood in the kitchen preparing plates of food and thanking God for meals that only need to be re-heated from the freezer.
The opposite of now.
I think that to have that peace and quiet in the midst of, or following, chaos is important. It allows our brains to think without multitasking. It lets our bodies sit and rest after a day of what feels like non-stop movement. It is a moment we can grasp to enjoy a hobby without feeling guilty for it.
Take time to rest.
To refill.
Re-energize.
To listen to God.
Read.
Be silent.
Enjoy.
"And he said to them, 'Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.' For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat." -Mark 6:31
The living room is dimly lit, just enough to read and write without straining eyes. In the dining room, a candle burns bright in the middle of the table. Bon Iver's music is softly streaming from the kitchen.
It is late February and at almost 7:00 it is not quite dark yet, a wonderful sneak peek of longer - and warmer - days just around the corner.
The scene is ideal, isn't it? Why? This is not what our home was like just two hours ago. At that time, the kids were noisily chasing each other through the house while i tried to tell Ellie to lay on the couch and rest. Tim was trying to calm a crying 10-week-old who knew it was time for his dinner as I stood in the kitchen preparing plates of food and thanking God for meals that only need to be re-heated from the freezer.
The opposite of now.
I think that to have that peace and quiet in the midst of, or following, chaos is important. It allows our brains to think without multitasking. It lets our bodies sit and rest after a day of what feels like non-stop movement. It is a moment we can grasp to enjoy a hobby without feeling guilty for it.
Take time to rest.
To refill.
Re-energize.
To listen to God.
Read.
Be silent.
Enjoy.
"And he said to them, 'Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.' For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat." -Mark 6:31
Thursday, February 09, 2012
Sun
Have you ever noticed how things seem brighter with the sun?
I noticed this one day while I was folding laundry. Folding laundry is such a chore for me. When the days are gray and dreary and seem hopeless, I let the piles of clean clothes sit in our bedroom and ignore them. But with the sun, well, that's another story. Suddenly, I can tackle the chores and even be cheerful in doing it.
Walking around, I notice that our house is overall more pleasant in the presence of the sun. The kids seem to play better, their parents refreshed, and joy fills the home. Warmth. Light. Ah, the sun.
I love the sun. I love the way it drives out the dreary from our home, from our attitudes. I love the boost it gives on days that could otherwise feel hopeless. I love the way the sun causes rebirth and growth and new life - Spring!
I feel I can tackle just about anything on a day I open my eyes and see the sun.
Have you ever noticed how things seem brighter with the SON?
I noticed this one day while I was folding laundry. Folding laundry is such a chore for me. When the days are gray and dreary and seem hopeless, I let the piles of clean clothes sit in our bedroom and ignore them. But with the SON, well, that's another story. Suddenly, I can tackle the chores and even be cheerful in doing it.
Walking around, I notice that our house is overall more pleasant in the presence of the SON. The kids seem to play better, their parents refreshed and joy fills the home. Warmth. Light. Ah, the SON.
I love the SON. I love the way HE drives out the dreary from our home, from our attitudes. I love the boost HE gives on days that could otherwise feel hopeless. I love the way the SON causes rebirth and growth and new life - Spring!
I feel I can tackle just about anything on a day I open my eyes and see the SON.
"Whatever you do, do heartily, as for the Lord and not for men." -Colossians 3:23
"I can do all things through Him who strengthens me." -Philippians 4:13
I noticed this one day while I was folding laundry. Folding laundry is such a chore for me. When the days are gray and dreary and seem hopeless, I let the piles of clean clothes sit in our bedroom and ignore them. But with the sun, well, that's another story. Suddenly, I can tackle the chores and even be cheerful in doing it.
Walking around, I notice that our house is overall more pleasant in the presence of the sun. The kids seem to play better, their parents refreshed, and joy fills the home. Warmth. Light. Ah, the sun.
I love the sun. I love the way it drives out the dreary from our home, from our attitudes. I love the boost it gives on days that could otherwise feel hopeless. I love the way the sun causes rebirth and growth and new life - Spring!
I feel I can tackle just about anything on a day I open my eyes and see the sun.
Have you ever noticed how things seem brighter with the SON?
I noticed this one day while I was folding laundry. Folding laundry is such a chore for me. When the days are gray and dreary and seem hopeless, I let the piles of clean clothes sit in our bedroom and ignore them. But with the SON, well, that's another story. Suddenly, I can tackle the chores and even be cheerful in doing it.
Walking around, I notice that our house is overall more pleasant in the presence of the SON. The kids seem to play better, their parents refreshed and joy fills the home. Warmth. Light. Ah, the SON.
I love the SON. I love the way HE drives out the dreary from our home, from our attitudes. I love the boost HE gives on days that could otherwise feel hopeless. I love the way the SON causes rebirth and growth and new life - Spring!
I feel I can tackle just about anything on a day I open my eyes and see the SON.
"Whatever you do, do heartily, as for the Lord and not for men." -Colossians 3:23
"I can do all things through Him who strengthens me." -Philippians 4:13
Monday, January 09, 2012
Forgive Me
My dear Ezekiel,
Last night held a..."a moment" you could say. We haven't been to church since the beginning of December. Between your birth and traveling and people being sick and just overall transitioning, we decided to lay low for a few weeks. I stayed home yesterday morning with you and Caleb since he has an ear infection and has been having a rough time lately.
Last night, however, we did take an hour to go to the prayer meeting at church since they were focusing on praying over certain committees and Daddy is on one of them. In the time leading up to prayer, when some requests were being shared, you started squawking and squeaking and making all those adorable noises newborns make. Our pastor, who was sitting in the row in front of us, raised his hand and said, "Those noises you hear behind me come from one of our newest members, Ezekiel Ross. I find it fitting that his first time in church would be at prayer meeting tonight. It was a prayer meeting just months ago that his mom stood up and announced she was pregnant and scared. Now here he is and we're all happy to have him here."
It's true, Zeke. I stood up at a prayer meeting in the spring, the only other one we've been to, actually, and told them about how I felt when I found out I was pregnant this time. I was angry. Terrified. An emotional mess. I cried for days.
And the Lord met me in my emotional wreck. He used a devotional reading from the book, "Jesus Calling" to speak to my heart and remind me Who was - Who is - in control.
You see, Ezekiel, I don't feel I do the mothering thing well.
I am not who I thought I would be as a mom. My life is not what I thought it would be. I know now that is ok, but I am learning how to find joy in my present. You and Caleb were not in my plan.
That is why I am so surprised - so thankful - by the intensity of love I feel for both of you. I know you could read this one day and take it as me saying you weren't wanted.
Not true.
Although you were a surprise to me and Dad, although it was difficult for me to wrap my mind around having four children, although it meant a change of plans that we had set for ourselves...I cherished my pregnancy with you still. I gasped at those first flutterings when I felt you move inside me. I cried when I saw your heart beat on that fuzzy ultrasound monitor. I loved hearing the ultrasound technician tell us you were a boy.
When you look up and your eyes catch mine and they hold, my heart melts, Ezekiel. I wonder at times if I am going to break out in sobs the way my eyes tear up. It amazes me that a heart can hold so much love.
Love for Noah.
Love for Eleanor.
Love for Caleb.
Love for you.
How does the heart not divide in this way of love in order to be there for each one? Yes, time has to be divided. While the love is multiplied and abounds, time divides unfortunately. Noah had those special first years of parenthood from us. The learning years of devoted, undivided time. No one else will really have that.
It doesn't mean we love any of you less, however.
I can't imagine our life without you in it. Not yet 4 weeks on this earth and you have already made your place firmly in our family. I could hold you all day long if given the opportunity and not grow tired of being close to you. Your dad loves to snuggle up with you at the end of the day to relax. Your siblings always want to know where you are, what you're doing...yes, at times the novelty of a new brother has worn off...but they can't wait for you to grow bigger so they can play with you.
You are wonderful.
You are a gift...such a gift.
You are loved.
You have already been used by God to teach us so much and it is my prayer that one day you will open your heart to Him in order to be used for much more.
I love you with a part of my heart I didn't know existed until your birth~
Love,
Mom
Last night held a..."a moment" you could say. We haven't been to church since the beginning of December. Between your birth and traveling and people being sick and just overall transitioning, we decided to lay low for a few weeks. I stayed home yesterday morning with you and Caleb since he has an ear infection and has been having a rough time lately.
Last night, however, we did take an hour to go to the prayer meeting at church since they were focusing on praying over certain committees and Daddy is on one of them. In the time leading up to prayer, when some requests were being shared, you started squawking and squeaking and making all those adorable noises newborns make. Our pastor, who was sitting in the row in front of us, raised his hand and said, "Those noises you hear behind me come from one of our newest members, Ezekiel Ross. I find it fitting that his first time in church would be at prayer meeting tonight. It was a prayer meeting just months ago that his mom stood up and announced she was pregnant and scared. Now here he is and we're all happy to have him here."
It's true, Zeke. I stood up at a prayer meeting in the spring, the only other one we've been to, actually, and told them about how I felt when I found out I was pregnant this time. I was angry. Terrified. An emotional mess. I cried for days.
And the Lord met me in my emotional wreck. He used a devotional reading from the book, "Jesus Calling" to speak to my heart and remind me Who was - Who is - in control.
You see, Ezekiel, I don't feel I do the mothering thing well.
I am not who I thought I would be as a mom. My life is not what I thought it would be. I know now that is ok, but I am learning how to find joy in my present. You and Caleb were not in my plan.
That is why I am so surprised - so thankful - by the intensity of love I feel for both of you. I know you could read this one day and take it as me saying you weren't wanted.
Not true.
Although you were a surprise to me and Dad, although it was difficult for me to wrap my mind around having four children, although it meant a change of plans that we had set for ourselves...I cherished my pregnancy with you still. I gasped at those first flutterings when I felt you move inside me. I cried when I saw your heart beat on that fuzzy ultrasound monitor. I loved hearing the ultrasound technician tell us you were a boy.
When you look up and your eyes catch mine and they hold, my heart melts, Ezekiel. I wonder at times if I am going to break out in sobs the way my eyes tear up. It amazes me that a heart can hold so much love.
Love for Noah.
Love for Eleanor.
Love for Caleb.
Love for you.
How does the heart not divide in this way of love in order to be there for each one? Yes, time has to be divided. While the love is multiplied and abounds, time divides unfortunately. Noah had those special first years of parenthood from us. The learning years of devoted, undivided time. No one else will really have that.
It doesn't mean we love any of you less, however.
I can't imagine our life without you in it. Not yet 4 weeks on this earth and you have already made your place firmly in our family. I could hold you all day long if given the opportunity and not grow tired of being close to you. Your dad loves to snuggle up with you at the end of the day to relax. Your siblings always want to know where you are, what you're doing...yes, at times the novelty of a new brother has worn off...but they can't wait for you to grow bigger so they can play with you.
You are wonderful.
You are a gift...such a gift.
You are loved.
You have already been used by God to teach us so much and it is my prayer that one day you will open your heart to Him in order to be used for much more.
I love you with a part of my heart I didn't know existed until your birth~
Love,
Mom
Monday, December 26, 2011
Happy Birth Day!
He came on the day we prayed he wouldn't.
Two days past his due date, and having rejected the ideal days to be born, he made his appearance, just a reminder that babies will come when they want (unless they're a c-section or induction.) Ellie's first preschool Christmas program was on a Thursday morning so I had gone from asking people to pray her baby brother would be born on a certain day to asking them to pray that he wouldn't come until Thursday afternoon at the earliest.
He didn't get the memo.
On Wednesday, December 14th, I woke up at 1:30am. Just because. You know how it goes - you're pregnant, you have to wake up and pee every couple hours. Typically I fall quickly asleep again but not this time. Then, at 3:00am, just as I was starting to drift off to sleep finally, I felt a contraction. Quite a bit stronger than the ones I had been feeling over the past couple weeks.
11 minutes later another one.
9 minutes later another.
"Tim," I said quietly.
"Hmmmm?" he muttered sleepily.
"I think we're having a baby today."
"Ok."
7 minutes later another.
Then another.
"I'm going to start getting everything together," I told him.
"Why don't you lay down and rest?" he asked. "We're not supposed to go in until they're 5 minutes apart for an hour."
"Yeah," I countered. "That rule doesn't apply to people on their fourth delivery, when the past two labors were only four hours long and who have to drive forty minutes in to the hospital and who are already dilated to four centimeters. I'm getting up."
He was so laid back it was driving me crazy.
I finished packing the suitcases and went on to wake the kids up since the contractions had started being 5 minutes apart and it was now 4:00am. I called our friends who had offered to watch the kids and told them to meet us at the hospital. I called my mom and set up plans with her that my dad would still go in to work, she would still wait at home for the fuel gas people to come fill their tank (they had not had heat for 4 days before that) and they would come to Grand Rapids that evening to see us and pick up the kids.
Tim, during this time, was deciding to get the kids a snack and was still quite laid back.
I was still yelling out contractions and suddenly Tim snapped into reality.
"Quick! They're four minutes apart! Get in the car! Get the kids in the car! Do you have everything?"
After loading up our very excited and very awake children and the suitcases, we were off to GR. We pulled up to the hospital around 5:00am and he dropped me off at the ER entrance, then went to meet our friends and hand the kids off to them. I made my way in and was soon taken up to triage where they put me on the bed, declared me 6 cm dilated and strapped the monitors to me.
And that's when my labor started stalling.
I was moved up to a labor and delivery room and my contractions slowed to around 8 minutes apart and mild enough to not be bothersome. I started sleeping between them. My doctor broke my water and nothing progressed. I briefly walked the halls and bounced on the birthing ball with no success.
My doctor started Pitocin at 9:00am.
At 10:00 am I was still at a 6 with nothing happening. The nurse upped the Pitocin a bit and suggested I lay in a different position. Since I had felt his head down on the left side of my pelvic bone area for the end of the pregnancy, I decided to lay on my right side in hopes it would help him slide down.
And did it!
The contractions immediately started coming 2-3 minutes apart and after a couple, I called my nurse back in. She checked me and said I was at a 7. I called her back in a few minutes later and said I felt LOTS of pressure and that I felt like I had to go to the bathroom. She said that was good, that it was the baby moving down.
I told her she had better check me again. She seemed a little hesitant since she had just been in there to check but did it anyways.
I was 9 cm.
She called my doctor in and he checked me and said it was time to push.
After about 15-20 minutes of pushing - which I could have shortened because I knew I wasn't pushing the right way but I was stalling it then, I could remember the pain from pushing Caleb out, the "ring of fire" if you will, and just really, REALLY didn't want to feel it again - when my doctor said, "I can see his head. I see hair."
"Dark hair?" I asked.
"Dark hair."
"Lots of it?" I asked with hope.
"I see the top of a head with lots of dark hair," he confirmed.
And with that, my baby came out with the next push.
After 8 hours since my first contraction, with only 3 of those hours actually feeling like I was in labor and 5 hours being stalled, we welcomed our fourth baby - third son - into the world at 11:05am.
Ezekiel Nelson Ross
Ezekiel means "Strength of God" and we picked it because we were knew we were going to need God's strength to enter a season of life we never expected by having four children.
Nelson is my maiden name. My parents only had two girls and so it's a way for me to honor my dad and pass on his last name.
His nickname is Zeke.
He has been an added surprise into our journey and less than a month ago we welcomed him with love.
Two days past his due date, and having rejected the ideal days to be born, he made his appearance, just a reminder that babies will come when they want (unless they're a c-section or induction.) Ellie's first preschool Christmas program was on a Thursday morning so I had gone from asking people to pray her baby brother would be born on a certain day to asking them to pray that he wouldn't come until Thursday afternoon at the earliest.
He didn't get the memo.
On Wednesday, December 14th, I woke up at 1:30am. Just because. You know how it goes - you're pregnant, you have to wake up and pee every couple hours. Typically I fall quickly asleep again but not this time. Then, at 3:00am, just as I was starting to drift off to sleep finally, I felt a contraction. Quite a bit stronger than the ones I had been feeling over the past couple weeks.
11 minutes later another one.
9 minutes later another.
"Tim," I said quietly.
"Hmmmm?" he muttered sleepily.
"I think we're having a baby today."
"Ok."
7 minutes later another.
Then another.
"I'm going to start getting everything together," I told him.
"Why don't you lay down and rest?" he asked. "We're not supposed to go in until they're 5 minutes apart for an hour."
"Yeah," I countered. "That rule doesn't apply to people on their fourth delivery, when the past two labors were only four hours long and who have to drive forty minutes in to the hospital and who are already dilated to four centimeters. I'm getting up."
He was so laid back it was driving me crazy.
I finished packing the suitcases and went on to wake the kids up since the contractions had started being 5 minutes apart and it was now 4:00am. I called our friends who had offered to watch the kids and told them to meet us at the hospital. I called my mom and set up plans with her that my dad would still go in to work, she would still wait at home for the fuel gas people to come fill their tank (they had not had heat for 4 days before that) and they would come to Grand Rapids that evening to see us and pick up the kids.
Tim, during this time, was deciding to get the kids a snack and was still quite laid back.
I was still yelling out contractions and suddenly Tim snapped into reality.
"Quick! They're four minutes apart! Get in the car! Get the kids in the car! Do you have everything?"
After loading up our very excited and very awake children and the suitcases, we were off to GR. We pulled up to the hospital around 5:00am and he dropped me off at the ER entrance, then went to meet our friends and hand the kids off to them. I made my way in and was soon taken up to triage where they put me on the bed, declared me 6 cm dilated and strapped the monitors to me.
And that's when my labor started stalling.
I was moved up to a labor and delivery room and my contractions slowed to around 8 minutes apart and mild enough to not be bothersome. I started sleeping between them. My doctor broke my water and nothing progressed. I briefly walked the halls and bounced on the birthing ball with no success.
My doctor started Pitocin at 9:00am.At 10:00 am I was still at a 6 with nothing happening. The nurse upped the Pitocin a bit and suggested I lay in a different position. Since I had felt his head down on the left side of my pelvic bone area for the end of the pregnancy, I decided to lay on my right side in hopes it would help him slide down.
And did it!
The contractions immediately started coming 2-3 minutes apart and after a couple, I called my nurse back in. She checked me and said I was at a 7. I called her back in a few minutes later and said I felt LOTS of pressure and that I felt like I had to go to the bathroom. She said that was good, that it was the baby moving down.
I told her she had better check me again. She seemed a little hesitant since she had just been in there to check but did it anyways.
I was 9 cm.
She called my doctor in and he checked me and said it was time to push.
After about 15-20 minutes of pushing - which I could have shortened because I knew I wasn't pushing the right way but I was stalling it then, I could remember the pain from pushing Caleb out, the "ring of fire" if you will, and just really, REALLY didn't want to feel it again - when my doctor said, "I can see his head. I see hair."
"Dark hair?" I asked.
"Dark hair."
"Lots of it?" I asked with hope.
"I see the top of a head with lots of dark hair," he confirmed.
And with that, my baby came out with the next push.
After 8 hours since my first contraction, with only 3 of those hours actually feeling like I was in labor and 5 hours being stalled, we welcomed our fourth baby - third son - into the world at 11:05am.
Ezekiel Nelson RossEzekiel means "Strength of God" and we picked it because we were knew we were going to need God's strength to enter a season of life we never expected by having four children.
Nelson is my maiden name. My parents only had two girls and so it's a way for me to honor my dad and pass on his last name.
His nickname is Zeke.He has been an added surprise into our journey and less than a month ago we welcomed him with love.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Early Mornings and Waiting
Well, am I an inconsistent blogger or what?
November 22nd - 2 days until Thanksgiving. 20 days until my due date.
I started nesting over the weekend. Things that were on my to-do list for this week just couldn't wait any longer in my mind by the time last Saturday rolled around. The baby clothes were sorted by size, washed, dried and put away. Tim found me in our bedroom emptying books off a tall bookshelf that I suddenly decided was to be moved to a different area of the room. Thankfully, he found me before the bookshelf had been moved so he could do that part himself. I'm a bit stubborn and when I start rearranging I tend to forget the restrictions...or maybe ignore them, I'm not sure.
The bassinet has been set up in the little area that was cleared by moving the bookshelf. The changing table area on top our dresser is ready and waiting for a baby. Although I need to find the changing pad. Or buy a new one if I gave the other away. Hmmm. That's on the to-do list for today.
To-do lists. One to be done today: Clean bathroom. Change sheets on beds. Pick up house before small group tonight. Finish reading the chapter to be discussed for small group.
There's the brief Thanksgiving one to be done tomorrow before heading to my parents' house: pack an overnight bag and bake an apple pie.
There's the homemade Christmas gifts one: make superhero capes for the kids. Make a blanket for Caleb. Tim - make dress up clothes station for Ellie.
I still have to pack my hospital bag.
And work: research and write grants.
To-do lists to be accomplished while waiting. And waiting. And waiting. I know these last weeks are going to fly by and yet sometimes I think they are the hardest. The discomfort has set in.
Waking up every 2 hours at night to go to the bathroom and roll over to sleep on my other side. Waking up at 5:00 every morning and not being able to fall back asleep. Although, I'd rather wake up at 5:00 am than 4:00 am, which is what was happening for awhile. I like these quiet morning hours with everyone else asleep. It allows for time to do different things: catch up on Pinterest, read, have my quiet/devotional time, work.
The early mornings are also making me excited for when this little one decides to join the family. I love looking around the living room and picturing it decorated for Christmas. The tree in the corner with twinkling lights, stockings hung on our "mantle", the peaceful quiet in the early morning hours all snuggled up in a blanket with a warm cup of chai or tea or hot chocolate. I'm looking forward to feeding and snuggling a tiny body against mine in this room in the hours where it is just him and I.
And so I wait...patiently...impatiently...it goes back and forth. We can't wait to meet him. There is the anticipation of finding out what he looks like, who he looks like. Each of the kids has had different color hair. Will he be a surprise red head or will he resemble one of the others? What hair Noah had was so blond that he looked bald. Eleanor was, and is, strawberry blond. Caleb's looked dark but is auburn, hints of red running through brown. Will he be long or short? Chubby or thin? Oh, the waiting.
I can't wait to enjoy my winter early mornings with him.
Tuesday, August 09, 2011
It Goes Both Ways
Recently I have been hearing about many marriages that are breaking up or separating or just listening to wives who are frustrated with their husbands. It makes me sad because I can't relate. I don't have a perfect marriage but I am pretty darn blessed. I am able to open my eyes in the morning, look over at Tim and wonder how it's possible to be more in love now than when we got married just over 8 years ago.
Then I realized something that really makes a difference in our marriage: we empathize with each other, not just sympathize, but really feel and relate to what the other is experiencing. For instance:
I got the kids settled with their lunches today. Before starting mine, I decided to clean up the mess on the counter I had made while making theirs, thinking about what time I should start dinner for tonight so that we could be done eating in enough time to get to Tim's soccer game. Then I realized I needed to switch the laundry over. While I wrestled carrying a load of laundry from the dryer to the bed, where I would need to think about folding it at some point today, Noah asked if I could get him more water. At this point, I thought about how I could have almost snapped. Here I am caring for my family's physical needs (eating), social calendar (soccer) and home management (laundry.) That's a lot to juggle all at the same moment in time. I can see why we women get overwhelmed!
I know husbands who still have the idea in their heads that the wife should be following the same format from the '50s, where dinner is ready when they get home, the kids are clean, the wife is showered and dressed to impress, and the house is spotless and quiet. Ha! Gone are those days, men. Accept it. Life is different 60 years later.
Thankfully, Tim gets this. What helped him was when he had to experience it for a few days last fall during my "busy season" of work, and he didn't even have to experience it to the max. All he had to do was be a stay-at-home dad for a few days, but I still planned out meals ahead of time - either in the crock pot or having a casserole ready to pop in the oven - dropped Noah off at school and planned for my work day on top of it. By the second day of experiencing a week in my shoes, he was begging to go to Meijer and run errands when I got home at the end of the day. He understood the importance of needing a break and needing to get out of the house for a couple hours!
But it goes both ways. I have also learned about Tim and his work. I realize that when he gets home, it doesn't help him if I start nagging as soon as he comes through the door. He is a painter and physically exhausted when he is done with the day. I really came to realize this when we started working on projects together and I would have to paint. My arms grew tired quickly! Then I realized he does it for 8-10 hours a day! Sometimes he's painting ceilings or sanding or staining or doing all sorts of different things. I have to put myself in his daily shoes to see what he's experiencing to appreciate what he does to provide for our family.
I wonder how many people do that. Maybe more wives need to experience what their husband is doing for them to appreciate it rather than growing jealous that he gets to "get out of the house" every day. Maybe more husbands need a couple days with the kids - without help from surrounding family - to appreciate their wives and loosen their expectations of what one can accomplish in a day.
I am thankful for my husband. So thankful. I love the home we have created and the path we are walking on through life. It's not always fun, but I know we'll try to relate to each other as we go through it together.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Another Bonus!
A bonus baby that is!
We are expecting a son (3 boys and 1 girl in our family- who would have ever thought!) in December.
We were a bit...shocked. Especially since we had just reached a decision that Tim would undergo "the procedure." I even played an April Fool's joke on my dad where I called and said, "Hey, Dad, you know how every time I run a 5K I end up pregnant?" (This happened when I found out I was pregnant with Caleb.) He laughed and I laughed and we wished each other a happy April Fool's Day.
The joke is always on me it seems.
3 days later, while we were on vacation, I got my purse calendar out to look at an upcoming date. That's when I counted.
And counted.
And counted again.
Then I asked Tim to go to Target and get me a test.
He did and within seconds there were 2 very clear lines.
After making it through the rest of our vacation, I came home and cried for a week straight. Oh, to feel such anger was beyond me. I struggled with emotions I had not deal with before, even when I found out I was pregnant with Caleb.
It felt like the opposite of the infertile couple's anger. Instead of, "Why, Lord, can others get pregnant but not me?" it became "Why, Lord, are you giving me another baby when there are people out there who really want one?"
Then God humbled me.
He always seems to do that well.
He spoke to me during my quiet time in the devotional I was reading. (Ever read Jesus Calling?
You should.) He reminded me that my plans are not His and that His are far better.
So I began to rest in His peace.
We are excited. Tim and the kids always were. Tim always adjusts quicker than me.
And a boy!
Goodness, we had a girl name picked out but couldn't settle on a boy's. We still can't! Although there are a couple front-runners finally.
Another bonus baby...
We are expecting a son (3 boys and 1 girl in our family- who would have ever thought!) in December.
We were a bit...shocked. Especially since we had just reached a decision that Tim would undergo "the procedure." I even played an April Fool's joke on my dad where I called and said, "Hey, Dad, you know how every time I run a 5K I end up pregnant?" (This happened when I found out I was pregnant with Caleb.) He laughed and I laughed and we wished each other a happy April Fool's Day.
The joke is always on me it seems.
3 days later, while we were on vacation, I got my purse calendar out to look at an upcoming date. That's when I counted.
And counted.
And counted again.
Then I asked Tim to go to Target and get me a test.
He did and within seconds there were 2 very clear lines.
After making it through the rest of our vacation, I came home and cried for a week straight. Oh, to feel such anger was beyond me. I struggled with emotions I had not deal with before, even when I found out I was pregnant with Caleb.
It felt like the opposite of the infertile couple's anger. Instead of, "Why, Lord, can others get pregnant but not me?" it became "Why, Lord, are you giving me another baby when there are people out there who really want one?"
Then God humbled me.
He always seems to do that well.
He spoke to me during my quiet time in the devotional I was reading. (Ever read Jesus Calling?
You should.) He reminded me that my plans are not His and that His are far better.
So I began to rest in His peace.
We are excited. Tim and the kids always were. Tim always adjusts quicker than me.
And a boy!
Goodness, we had a girl name picked out but couldn't settle on a boy's. We still can't! Although there are a couple front-runners finally.
Another bonus baby...
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Blogging Hiatus Reason #1
Last summer I (kind of unknowingly) interviewed for a position I was interested in. I say "unknowingly" because I thought I was dropping off some bins and boxes to the program's executive director and ended up going inside her house (again, I thought to catch up on life real quick and ask a couple questions about the job) and found myself in a laid-back interview. Laid-back as in on her couch with me wearing holey-knee jeans. Yikes.
Moral of the story: Always look nice when going to important people's houses. Even if you think you're just dropping something off.
Soon after she called to offer me the position and I accepted it. For almost a year now I have been the Program Director for STATS (Straight Talk About Tough Stuff.) I had been volunteering as a team leader with this program for the 2 years prior. It is sponsored by a local hospital and what ends up happening is that 48 high school students are selected after an interview process. Those kids are split up into 6 teams of 8 (4 boys, 4 girls.) They come up with about an hour long presentation over the next few weeks using skits, songs, personal talks, etc. to present the message of abstinence from drugs, sex, alcohol and tobacco to the middle schools in Muskegon County. Each year we hit 12-13 middle schools and see 2,000+ kids.
The job is part-time and I am able to do the bulk of it from home. The fall (beginning of the school year especially) is my "busy season" as we are interviewing and selecting students, organizing teams, doing a full-day retreat and another mini-retreat and a ton of other things. I work in the morning for a couple hours, during the kids' nap time and, if needed, after they go to bed. You can see why this would take away from blogging time. However, my position is active during the school months and not summer, which gives me more time to do things I haven't had time to during the year. It also doesn't stop me from researching a bit or being aware of articles, documentaries, etc. and spending a bit of time here and there researching, but I don't feel the pressure as much now.
This program is something I am passionate about and you may (or may not) wonder why a program like this is important. If you have time, please read any of the following links:
The Underage Drinking Epidemic (Parade magazine article from 6/12/11)
Teen Marijuana Use on the Rise (Report from ABC World News 12/14/10)
Oral Sex is the New Goodnight Kiss (an alarming but necessary read for parents)
Tobacco Use Among Teens is Dangerously High (ABC News report)
It is more effective to have high school students talking to middle school students about these topics which is what makes this program important. I still continue to be shocked when I walk into a 7th-grade class to watch a presentation and see a pregnant girl sitting in the room. I am sad when I think about my young cousins, some underage, some newly-21 (but who have been drinking for a long time already) who are already alcoholics. Their Facebook statuses read over and over about being wasted or drinking or not being able to remember the events of the night before.
I think there are those in our society today who just don't think anything is going to work. Kids will be kids; they're dumb and naive; they don't stand a chance with their background; and on and on the excuses go. So they just turn a blind eye and tell themselves, while if they're going to drink or smoke or whatever, then I'll have them do it under my watch so that they're safe. Since they're going to sex, I'll just give them a condom or put them on birth control.
These kids are not safe.
They are young and they are a danger to themselves and those around them. Most teens who drink had their first taste of alcohol given to them by a family member.
I can't sit and do nothing when I have a voice.
So I will speak.
Moral of the story: Always look nice when going to important people's houses. Even if you think you're just dropping something off.
Soon after she called to offer me the position and I accepted it. For almost a year now I have been the Program Director for STATS (Straight Talk About Tough Stuff.) I had been volunteering as a team leader with this program for the 2 years prior. It is sponsored by a local hospital and what ends up happening is that 48 high school students are selected after an interview process. Those kids are split up into 6 teams of 8 (4 boys, 4 girls.) They come up with about an hour long presentation over the next few weeks using skits, songs, personal talks, etc. to present the message of abstinence from drugs, sex, alcohol and tobacco to the middle schools in Muskegon County. Each year we hit 12-13 middle schools and see 2,000+ kids.
The job is part-time and I am able to do the bulk of it from home. The fall (beginning of the school year especially) is my "busy season" as we are interviewing and selecting students, organizing teams, doing a full-day retreat and another mini-retreat and a ton of other things. I work in the morning for a couple hours, during the kids' nap time and, if needed, after they go to bed. You can see why this would take away from blogging time. However, my position is active during the school months and not summer, which gives me more time to do things I haven't had time to during the year. It also doesn't stop me from researching a bit or being aware of articles, documentaries, etc. and spending a bit of time here and there researching, but I don't feel the pressure as much now.
This program is something I am passionate about and you may (or may not) wonder why a program like this is important. If you have time, please read any of the following links:
The Underage Drinking Epidemic (Parade magazine article from 6/12/11)
Teen Marijuana Use on the Rise (Report from ABC World News 12/14/10)
Oral Sex is the New Goodnight Kiss (an alarming but necessary read for parents)
Tobacco Use Among Teens is Dangerously High (ABC News report)
It is more effective to have high school students talking to middle school students about these topics which is what makes this program important. I still continue to be shocked when I walk into a 7th-grade class to watch a presentation and see a pregnant girl sitting in the room. I am sad when I think about my young cousins, some underage, some newly-21 (but who have been drinking for a long time already) who are already alcoholics. Their Facebook statuses read over and over about being wasted or drinking or not being able to remember the events of the night before.
I think there are those in our society today who just don't think anything is going to work. Kids will be kids; they're dumb and naive; they don't stand a chance with their background; and on and on the excuses go. So they just turn a blind eye and tell themselves, while if they're going to drink or smoke or whatever, then I'll have them do it under my watch so that they're safe. Since they're going to sex, I'll just give them a condom or put them on birth control.
These kids are not safe.
They are young and they are a danger to themselves and those around them. Most teens who drink had their first taste of alcohol given to them by a family member.
I can't sit and do nothing when I have a voice.
So I will speak.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Peace
I am sitting outside tonight on the rocker bench my dad made me. My head is resting against a pillow that I covered with a cheerful fabric that I could stare at all day. We have returned from an open house and my belly is filled too much with good food to the point where I am regretting that last-minute helping of spinach artichoke dip. But it looked so good...and it tasted even better.
The Pandora app on my phone is filling the air with music from The Wailin' Jennys station and I close my eyes. After a cloudy rainy morning, the sun burst out this afternoon and its summer evening rays are falling on my face. They feel warm until the wind blows and then a chill gently bites down to my bones. It is as if the weather is temperamental tonight - hormonal, menopausal - to where you want to put on a sweatshirt one minute and take it back off the next.
I don't mind. As the wind blows, my spirit soars. My heart is filled with joy. I am rest-filled, God-filled, at this moment. Earlier I was going into an uncertain situation and on the drive there I prayed over and over for peace and a calm to come over my anxious heart and mind.
Peace was delivered.
God is good.
His Peace passes understanding.
I have faith that He provides it no matter what, but it is up to us to grasp it, to let go of our fears and insecurities and hold to Him for dear life.
He is faithful, even when we doubt.
I have learned this lesson from Him already and I was able to go into this evening truly believing He would bring me peace. Because He does not go back on His promises.
I have not blogged in 6 months. And before that, I blogged only a couple times in the few months. There are reasons for that. They are not for tonight, though. Thankfully, with the arrival of summer I will be able to finally release all the words that have been inside me. The thoughts and stories. The updates and pictures of our family.
Not tonight, though.
Tonight is to be thankful for His peace.
"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." -John 14:27
The Pandora app on my phone is filling the air with music from The Wailin' Jennys station and I close my eyes. After a cloudy rainy morning, the sun burst out this afternoon and its summer evening rays are falling on my face. They feel warm until the wind blows and then a chill gently bites down to my bones. It is as if the weather is temperamental tonight - hormonal, menopausal - to where you want to put on a sweatshirt one minute and take it back off the next.
I don't mind. As the wind blows, my spirit soars. My heart is filled with joy. I am rest-filled, God-filled, at this moment. Earlier I was going into an uncertain situation and on the drive there I prayed over and over for peace and a calm to come over my anxious heart and mind.
Peace was delivered.
God is good.
His Peace passes understanding.
I have faith that He provides it no matter what, but it is up to us to grasp it, to let go of our fears and insecurities and hold to Him for dear life.
He is faithful, even when we doubt.
I have learned this lesson from Him already and I was able to go into this evening truly believing He would bring me peace. Because He does not go back on His promises.
I have not blogged in 6 months. And before that, I blogged only a couple times in the few months. There are reasons for that. They are not for tonight, though. Thankfully, with the arrival of summer I will be able to finally release all the words that have been inside me. The thoughts and stories. The updates and pictures of our family.
Not tonight, though.
Tonight is to be thankful for His peace.
"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." -John 14:27
Friday, December 10, 2010
O Christmas Card, O Christmas Card...
One of the things I love about the Christmas season is going to my mailbox and finding something in it besides junk mail and bills - Christmas cards!! (Who doesn't love finding fun mail waiting for them?)
We're going to use Shutterfly this year for Christmas cards. I have used them in the past for birth announcements and Christmas cards and have never been disappointed. The quality is great and there are many options.
Originally, I was going to do photo cards for our family and also for my STATS students, but with battling pinkeye for as long as I have along with not having everyone healthy at one time to do a family photo...I think I'll be doing them for just my STATS students this year.
Because they are a fun group of kids, I want a Christmas card that reflects that, so I'm thinking along the lines of something like this:
or this:
Actually, the card above would be a great option if we decided to do a photo card using just pictures of the kids. By the way, since I haven't updated in a long time, here are some recent pictures of the kiddos:
Decisions, decisions...
Check out their other Christmas card options!
If you're looking for a fun gift for someone, you could always do a photo calendar.
I have always wanted to make one...maybe this will be my year.
Now to go make some choices!
We're going to use Shutterfly this year for Christmas cards. I have used them in the past for birth announcements and Christmas cards and have never been disappointed. The quality is great and there are many options.
Originally, I was going to do photo cards for our family and also for my STATS students, but with battling pinkeye for as long as I have along with not having everyone healthy at one time to do a family photo...I think I'll be doing them for just my STATS students this year.
Because they are a fun group of kids, I want a Christmas card that reflects that, so I'm thinking along the lines of something like this:
or this:Actually, the card above would be a great option if we decided to do a photo card using just pictures of the kids. By the way, since I haven't updated in a long time, here are some recent pictures of the kiddos:
Decisions, decisions...
Check out their other Christmas card options!
If you're looking for a fun gift for someone, you could always do a photo calendar.
I have always wanted to make one...maybe this will be my year.
Now to go make some choices!
Monday, November 29, 2010
Little Realizations
I finished feeding Caleb tonight and still found him to be quite fussy. He has been fighting a cold lately and I think may even be coming down with pinkeye, thanks to his older brother sharing it so generously with him. He fussed and cried as I started changing his diaper and, I'm not sure what compelled me to do this, but after taking off his clothes and leaving him in just his diaper, I held him up against me rather than continuing to change him. He seemed to calm down briefly before starting up again. The kangaroo care idea (skin-to-skin contact) came to mind and soon I was snuggled up against him with a blanket over the two of us for warmth.
Mere seconds after holding him against my skin, he had quieted down and just minutes later he was sound asleep in my arms. Tim was putting Noah and Eleanor to bed so I just stayed there with Caleb and began inspecting him.
The first thing I always notice is his hair. It is dark like mine and there is much of it but with a double-cowlick that points to Tim. I took the time to notice his little nose and ears and mouth with the bottom lip he likes to suck in. I began to think about how this little person is made up of mine and Tim's genes. We helped in creating this tiny body that was snuggled against mine! I know that this is obvious (hello, Biology class) but not very often do I really take the time to think about how amazing that thought is.
I traced my finger along the knuckles on his fingers and then on to the tiny folds in his wrist where his hand connects to his forearm. Smooth, soft and somewhat pudgy baby skin invited my finger to run its way up to his elbow and back down to his knuckles. I thought of how blessed I am and then a scary thought came to my mind.
I hadn't wanted him.
After Eleanor was born, Tim and I wanted to be done having kids. Two was good for us and we have our first baby in Heaven, so, actually, three was good for us.
Then God worked His plans which are usually so opposite of what we plan.
I remember my reaction to finding out I was pregnant again. The screaming and crying and fear that set the tone for a couple days until reality started to sink in is something I won't lie about, although I don't like that it was my reaction.
Then he was born and I remember how deeply and quickly I fell in love with this small bundle, this Caleb James. This love for him surpassed any fear I may have had about raising three children on earth.
I thought tonight about how full my arms felt there with him settled in to them and then started to think about the arms of other women.
The aching arms of the woman who desperately wants, but cannot have, a baby to find his or her home in them by way of her own body.
The lonely arms of the woman who chose the difficult route of adoption or abortion. The arms that feel as if they're missing what the womb had provided but not made the connection on.
The open arms of the woman who embraces a child not born of her body but into her love.
Then I realized that a couple thousand years ago there was a woman whose arms were also full as she cradled a tiny baby who came with a big purpose. I could hear music in our kitchen, the Christmas playlist shuffling around in albums to bring us a variety of songs. Interestingly enough, at that moment, the song "Mary, Did You Know?" started playing.
Did you know, Mary?
What was that night like? What thoughts went through her head as her tired arms wrapped themselves around Jesus - our Savior?
I can imagine that she would have first responded as any mother who has just given birth does - counting his tiny fingers and toes. Her hand gently smoothing over the top of his head as she took in how much or little hair he had. I wouldn't be surprised if her fingers traced the outline of his lips, his eyes and the bridge of his nose. The way she must have brought him close to her own nose to breath in his newborn scent.
I pondered all these things as I watched Caleb's mouth spit out his binky and work his lips into a pout before sucking in his lower lip and bringing it out again. His fingers stretched out against my skin and then curled in again to a little fist. From the kitchen I could hear "Silent Night" start to play.
I have heard people joke that the song isn't accurate - that it couldn't have been a silent night with the screams of childbirth, a baby's wail and the noises of surrounding animals in the stable.
In the time I was examining Caleb and marveling in the wonder of life, I also know that life was continuing around me. I could hear Noah upstairs in his room. I could hear Eleanor trying to fight bedtime. I could hear Tim lecturing both of them on how it was time for them to stay in their rooms and go to sleep. I could hear the music from the kitchen.
Yet as I looked at Caleb, there was also a silence. It was reminiscent of the first time parents see their child. There is activity all around them. Lights and people and sounds and doors and so much more. There seems to be a bubble around the small family, though. As the child's eyes lock into his parents', time stands still for a moment. Everything else fades away. There is a silence and awe.
A silent night, perhaps, as Mary locked eyes with Jesus.
I am far from a theologian but I am a mother. I cannot tell you all the facts and theories that surround the details of that night but I think I can relate, as a woman and mother, to how Mary must have felt that night as she cradled Jesus close to her for the first time. Her arms were full as she held the One Who adopts us into His family.
What a beautiful picture.
What a silent night.
Mere seconds after holding him against my skin, he had quieted down and just minutes later he was sound asleep in my arms. Tim was putting Noah and Eleanor to bed so I just stayed there with Caleb and began inspecting him.
The first thing I always notice is his hair. It is dark like mine and there is much of it but with a double-cowlick that points to Tim. I took the time to notice his little nose and ears and mouth with the bottom lip he likes to suck in. I began to think about how this little person is made up of mine and Tim's genes. We helped in creating this tiny body that was snuggled against mine! I know that this is obvious (hello, Biology class) but not very often do I really take the time to think about how amazing that thought is.
I traced my finger along the knuckles on his fingers and then on to the tiny folds in his wrist where his hand connects to his forearm. Smooth, soft and somewhat pudgy baby skin invited my finger to run its way up to his elbow and back down to his knuckles. I thought of how blessed I am and then a scary thought came to my mind.
I hadn't wanted him.
After Eleanor was born, Tim and I wanted to be done having kids. Two was good for us and we have our first baby in Heaven, so, actually, three was good for us.
Then God worked His plans which are usually so opposite of what we plan.
I remember my reaction to finding out I was pregnant again. The screaming and crying and fear that set the tone for a couple days until reality started to sink in is something I won't lie about, although I don't like that it was my reaction.
Then he was born and I remember how deeply and quickly I fell in love with this small bundle, this Caleb James. This love for him surpassed any fear I may have had about raising three children on earth.
I thought tonight about how full my arms felt there with him settled in to them and then started to think about the arms of other women.
The aching arms of the woman who desperately wants, but cannot have, a baby to find his or her home in them by way of her own body.
The lonely arms of the woman who chose the difficult route of adoption or abortion. The arms that feel as if they're missing what the womb had provided but not made the connection on.
The open arms of the woman who embraces a child not born of her body but into her love.
Then I realized that a couple thousand years ago there was a woman whose arms were also full as she cradled a tiny baby who came with a big purpose. I could hear music in our kitchen, the Christmas playlist shuffling around in albums to bring us a variety of songs. Interestingly enough, at that moment, the song "Mary, Did You Know?" started playing.
Did you know, Mary?
What was that night like? What thoughts went through her head as her tired arms wrapped themselves around Jesus - our Savior?
I can imagine that she would have first responded as any mother who has just given birth does - counting his tiny fingers and toes. Her hand gently smoothing over the top of his head as she took in how much or little hair he had. I wouldn't be surprised if her fingers traced the outline of his lips, his eyes and the bridge of his nose. The way she must have brought him close to her own nose to breath in his newborn scent.
I pondered all these things as I watched Caleb's mouth spit out his binky and work his lips into a pout before sucking in his lower lip and bringing it out again. His fingers stretched out against my skin and then curled in again to a little fist. From the kitchen I could hear "Silent Night" start to play.
I have heard people joke that the song isn't accurate - that it couldn't have been a silent night with the screams of childbirth, a baby's wail and the noises of surrounding animals in the stable.
In the time I was examining Caleb and marveling in the wonder of life, I also know that life was continuing around me. I could hear Noah upstairs in his room. I could hear Eleanor trying to fight bedtime. I could hear Tim lecturing both of them on how it was time for them to stay in their rooms and go to sleep. I could hear the music from the kitchen.
Yet as I looked at Caleb, there was also a silence. It was reminiscent of the first time parents see their child. There is activity all around them. Lights and people and sounds and doors and so much more. There seems to be a bubble around the small family, though. As the child's eyes lock into his parents', time stands still for a moment. Everything else fades away. There is a silence and awe.
A silent night, perhaps, as Mary locked eyes with Jesus.
I am far from a theologian but I am a mother. I cannot tell you all the facts and theories that surround the details of that night but I think I can relate, as a woman and mother, to how Mary must have felt that night as she cradled Jesus close to her for the first time. Her arms were full as she held the One Who adopts us into His family.
What a beautiful picture.
What a silent night.
Thursday, September 09, 2010
Sticks and Stumps
I have been blessed to have many women in my life at different times. Some have come, developed close relationship and moved on with the different paths of life. Some were more temporary, some have been there since the awkward time of adolescence and have grown more distant as we have become older although they are still there. And some...well, some are like Sticks and Stumps.
When I arrived at Cornerstone University in the fall of 1999, I knew only two other people and they were both older than me and living in a different dorm. I had fun meeting new people and making friends and that is when I got to know Sticks and Stumps.
We were roommates the following year along with two other girls. We had some great times and I believe that's when the "Sticks" and "Stumps" nicknames were formed. It's also the year we each started dating the men who would become our husbands.
We haven't always been close. Sometimes life happens and gets busy.
Yet we always seem to find our way back to each other, which is where we are now again, yet this time is different. We're older, more mature...we're wives and moms. We're almost 30 - yikes! =)
There is a memory cemented in my mind that really demonstrates what wonderful friends they are. Tim and I miscarried our first pregnancy in September 2003. We went in for our 12-week appointment on a Thursday, only to find out there was no heartbeat and we had most likely lost the baby within the two weeks beforehand and my body had not realized it yet. Because my body was taking so long to start the process and we were leaving in a week to go to California for a conference, we chose to have a D & C. This way, while out in California, if I started miscarrying and had problems, I wouldn't be across the country from my doctor. The D & C was performed two days later, on Saturday morning.
My parents came that morning, our pastor and his wife stopped by in the afternoon, and then that evening Sticks and her husband brought us dinner. Stumps and her husband had been in town for something unrelated but stopped by as well. The six of us had dinner together and spent the rest of the evening visiting.
The best part was that they didn't expect anything of us. They didn't tell us how to grieve or give suggestions. They didn't make us talk about it or try to guide the conversation in any direction. They just let us guide them through the night.
By the time they all got to our house, Tim and I had cried enough tears over the previous two days to fill an ocean. We just wanted to laugh and enjoy our time with friends. We were exhausted and they were a breath of fresh air for us. Later that evening, in mine and Tim's timing, we did end up opening up about the experience and talking about it and there were more tears. It was a beautiful evening for us and it was what we needed.
In the six years since then, they both joined me in the painful experience of miscarrying their own pregnancies at some point. We also have gone on to have (almost) 8 children between us. We have developed a yearly "girls night/weekend" and it is a very cherished time. It usually goes quickly before we are back to the daily grind of taking care of our families, but it is enough time to recharge and encourage each other as we walk through this wife/mother journey together.
I love these girls dearly. No matter what other friendships I have developed over the years, these two have a very special place in my life. I know I can call them and they will be there for me. I know they will pray when they say they will, it's not just an empty phrase with them. I know we will celebrate joyous occasions together. I thank God for them.
There is a Sara Groves song from her album, "Fireflies and Songs" that speaks of friendship. When I first heard it, I thought of Sticks and Stumps.
As I said, I have been blessed with many different friends and I don't want to play favorites here but I think what sets these two apart is that we basically, in a sense, "grew up" together. We went from the awkward phase of the teenage years, entering college and figuring out what to do with life, to actually living life out together - not geographically, unfortunately, but through phone calls, emails, letters and cards, visits and through the bonds that have kept us close.
I love you, girls!! Thank you for blessing my life in many ways!
When I arrived at Cornerstone University in the fall of 1999, I knew only two other people and they were both older than me and living in a different dorm. I had fun meeting new people and making friends and that is when I got to know Sticks and Stumps.
We were roommates the following year along with two other girls. We had some great times and I believe that's when the "Sticks" and "Stumps" nicknames were formed. It's also the year we each started dating the men who would become our husbands.
We haven't always been close. Sometimes life happens and gets busy.
Yet we always seem to find our way back to each other, which is where we are now again, yet this time is different. We're older, more mature...we're wives and moms. We're almost 30 - yikes! =)
There is a memory cemented in my mind that really demonstrates what wonderful friends they are. Tim and I miscarried our first pregnancy in September 2003. We went in for our 12-week appointment on a Thursday, only to find out there was no heartbeat and we had most likely lost the baby within the two weeks beforehand and my body had not realized it yet. Because my body was taking so long to start the process and we were leaving in a week to go to California for a conference, we chose to have a D & C. This way, while out in California, if I started miscarrying and had problems, I wouldn't be across the country from my doctor. The D & C was performed two days later, on Saturday morning.
My parents came that morning, our pastor and his wife stopped by in the afternoon, and then that evening Sticks and her husband brought us dinner. Stumps and her husband had been in town for something unrelated but stopped by as well. The six of us had dinner together and spent the rest of the evening visiting.
The best part was that they didn't expect anything of us. They didn't tell us how to grieve or give suggestions. They didn't make us talk about it or try to guide the conversation in any direction. They just let us guide them through the night.
By the time they all got to our house, Tim and I had cried enough tears over the previous two days to fill an ocean. We just wanted to laugh and enjoy our time with friends. We were exhausted and they were a breath of fresh air for us. Later that evening, in mine and Tim's timing, we did end up opening up about the experience and talking about it and there were more tears. It was a beautiful evening for us and it was what we needed.
In the six years since then, they both joined me in the painful experience of miscarrying their own pregnancies at some point. We also have gone on to have (almost) 8 children between us. We have developed a yearly "girls night/weekend" and it is a very cherished time. It usually goes quickly before we are back to the daily grind of taking care of our families, but it is enough time to recharge and encourage each other as we walk through this wife/mother journey together.
I love these girls dearly. No matter what other friendships I have developed over the years, these two have a very special place in my life. I know I can call them and they will be there for me. I know they will pray when they say they will, it's not just an empty phrase with them. I know we will celebrate joyous occasions together. I thank God for them.
There is a Sara Groves song from her album, "Fireflies and Songs" that speaks of friendship. When I first heard it, I thought of Sticks and Stumps.
As I said, I have been blessed with many different friends and I don't want to play favorites here but I think what sets these two apart is that we basically, in a sense, "grew up" together. We went from the awkward phase of the teenage years, entering college and figuring out what to do with life, to actually living life out together - not geographically, unfortunately, but through phone calls, emails, letters and cards, visits and through the bonds that have kept us close.
I love you, girls!! Thank you for blessing my life in many ways!
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