here we go again...

Many times I thought I would write some how to advice of how we managed having Littlest in a Petrie cast last year. I thought I would post pictures of how we modified clothes and how he managed to get in and out of the car with both legs cast. And then I thought I'd post updates like when he got the cast off finally and when he was in the brace. I'd think of things I'd like to say but wouldn't blog about them because I wanted the congruent timeline of events to be perfect. So for the last 10 months I've just stayed silent.

I can't wait and hope for my perfect timeline anymore. I need to write. In mid-April his pain started escalating again. This time we were prepared for it. The surgeon had told us it would happen and that we would do nothing until doing nothing was no longer an option. When day after day the pain level stayed high we knew it was time to bump up our doctor visit from August to immediately. New x-rays show his hip getting worse again and our surgeon had reached the end of her ability to help him. I'm not exactly sad about this; the surgeon we have had for the past year is a good doctor but not a hip specialist and doesn't have the warmest bedside manner for working with kids. Even so, it is difficult to hear that your son's condition is beyond the ability of his doctor.

The new surgeon team she referred us to took even more x-rays with some added angles. The short version is that my boy needs surgery yet again. The new team spent nearly two hours with us explaining everything they saw and the procedures they would like to do. It is major. Instead of focusing on the femur as they have in the past they will reorient the pelvis to cover the femoral head and possibly need to reshape the femoral head to fit in the hip socket. The positive in this is we really like the new team and we trust them. They were great with our boy and great with us. They appreciated and applauded the fact that I insist that Littlest be part of all discussions because it is his body and his healthcare. Yes, mom and dad make the decisions now but he needs to know how to advocate for himself and how to navigate the medical world as he grows. Someday he will need to do this on his own and I plan on giving him as much of a head start in that department as I can.

We don't have a surgery date yet. MRI is in a couple of weeks, pre-op is in early June, and then surgery as soon as they can arrange it in the schedule, probably late June to early July. Even though we knew at the last procedure that another was likely it is still difficult to hear out loud. We had so hoped to have a summer of fun not another summer of surgery. When the last visit had the results of "no change, see you in six months" we thought we had managed to at least have a summer without medical issues. But Perthes is a terrible disease and has not proven to be predicable in the least. 

I've had a hard time with this. I've told some people but I haven't wanted to tell everyone. I've wanted to hold the news close. At first diagnosis when friends would ask how they could help I knew, I had answers. Now as we approach the forth surgery, I no longer know what to say when asked. Four surgeries in three years, I feel like I should be a pro at this but I'm not. I feel like I should know what to say when friends want to help. Early on I felt like this was a fast easy journey. We have said often that in the beginning we understood Perthes more like an injury than a disease. We thought surgery would be one and done. Now three years later still facing the same things, I feel like a burden. I feel like my constant narrative of having a kid who hurts so much he cries himself to sleep and wakes in the night is difficult for my friends to still be hearing. I'm probably wrong about that but it is still my current perception.  

My Littlest is frustrated. He's hurting to the extreme. Hubby and I would do anything to take his pain away but we are helpless to make a significant difference. Brothers are stressed out about this. Sometimes average playing results in someone bumping the leg and tears. Yet somehow in the midst of it all we still laugh, we still play, we still love, we still hope. We hope that this will be the surgery that will bring relief. We hope that soon this will be a memory instead of a current reality. We hope for a cure for Perthes so that other kids can avoid the pain that our son lives with constantly. Did I mention that we hope this is the last surgery and after this he can go about the business of being a little boy?

Middle Finger Perthes

There are days that watching my boy in all that he goes through that I feel awed at his strength and his joy. There are also days that I watch my boy struggle and I cry after the kids are asleep. Some days are bright, we know we all have each other and that we will make it through this. Some days are life draining and discouraging. On one such discouraging day, with all the kids in bed, Hubby poured drinks and the two of us toasted an expletive. Because some days only a swear word is strong enough to express how much you hate watching your child suffer. That toast is the back story for this post.

Littlest is very conscious of others. He doesn't want his disease to be a burden for anyone else. He's also a huge people pleaser and a genuine optimist. When you put those things all together you have a recipe for a little boy who says he's good all the time even when he's not. One day the dam finally broke. Tears of frustration ran down his face after we had to call him in because of his leg. While Hubby held him and we exchanged looks of "How do we help him with this?" I thought of the toast and blurted out my suggestion.

"Repeat after me. And if you tell anyone I'M the one who said this, I'll deny it. Okay? Okay. Now say this, 'Middle Finger Perthes'."  My boy stared at me and the look on his face said that his mother had finally gone off her rocker. I said it again and asked him to repeat it. Finally he did and ended the night laughing. We told him that it is okay to be frustrated and even angry. And then we told him what we always say when things get hard, acknowledge it and feel it but don't unpack and live there. 

Let me clarify, we don't advocate children swearing. He's not allowed to say the actual word. He's not allowed to do the action. But on days when he needs to acknowledge that he's angry with the disease, he is allowed to say (in our home with our family only) "middle finger perthes." Yes, it is unconventional parenting but it works for us. This is how we are acknowledging the anger of a disease that causes a child chronic pain. We just don't unpack and live there. We aren't constantly angry but we do allow ourselves to feel the anger when it comes up. 

Somehow the idea came up to have a middle finger perthes party. We decided to have cake. And of course a pinata, because beating a paper mache creature with a bat and then having candy would somehow be therapeutic. We were right, it was. Littlest, his brothers, his parents, and one of his uncles went to the park and had a party last week. Pictures at this point tell the story better than words.

 If you are the toasting type and you decide to toast tonight, we'll join you with a middle finger perthes toast. Cheers.

hanging the pinata

laughing that dad moved the pinata up right as he swung

Middlest hitting pinata

Oldest taking a swing as well

Even the parents and Uncle took a turn

candy, glow, bracelets, and....

party poppers

after all was done, he wanted to annihilate the pinata a little more

Took some vicious swings at the remainder of the pinata

chillin in the circle

what's a party without an awesome cake?
Glad I personally know the baker, it could have
 been an awkward order otherwise! 

The Monkey Man eating the monkey face

silly faces of a Middle Finger Perthes party

One flying a kite and one dabbing....love those crazy boys!

proof I was actually there as well

someone I'll never have coffee with

This has been a seriously difficult school year for my middle. In the midst of screenings and evaluations for a number of different sensory scale issues, he has had a difficult teacher who doesn't understand that how he is doing emotionally affects how he is doing with homework and schoolwork. It has been heart wrenching, to say the least, to watch him struggle this year.

This week when I said I'm not ready for two of my three boys to move to the next grade, my oldest asked if the reason I was ready for the middle to be another grade older was due to a specific person. We all knew he meant this particular teacher. I paused and then said, "No. This grade is hard. It was hard when you were there and it has been a thousand times harder for your brother. The next grade was easier and I hope it will be for him as well."

He smiled and said, "Yeah, that. AND because of a certain someone. You don't like her, do you mom?" My pause while trying to think of the words to say was answer enough. "I mean, honestly, you would not go out and get a cup of coffee with her, would you?" Ok, bluff was called so I thought quickly and decided to answer.

"No, I would not ever go out and get a cup of coffee with her. She is not someone who I particularly like and not someone I can see myself ever being friends with. That said, she is a teacher at our school and I will treat her with respect as such. We all will respect that she holds a position of authority and will treat her with the respect that her position deserves. I will not stoop to the level of being nasty in my speech with her because at the end of the day I have to live with myself. I have to be able to look myself in the mirror and be comfortable with how I have treated others. I will treat her with the kindness and respect I would treat anyone else with simply because they are human beings."

I'd be totally lying if I said I didn't puff up a touch with pride in my answer. It was a good response, one that I hoped my boys would remember for years down the road. I was telling them that how I treat someone is not a reflection of that person but rather a reflection of me. That was some pretty good stuff and I meant it which, of course, makes it better.

There is only one problem. Words are empty if not followed by actions. I have been extremely respectful in my interactions with her. I have never gotten nasty or said to her the things that go through my head about her. However, I have spent the last two days bashing her to anyone who would listen. She's never heard me be disrespectful to or about her but that doesn't mean that I am treating her with kindness and  respect.

If I am looking to be able to look myself in the mirror and know that I have handled myself with integrity, then I have failed. Just because I have talked behind her back does not mean I have acted with integrity, actually the opposite is true. I have not clothed myself with compassion. I have not offered grace or forgiveness. I have attacked like a coward, behind the back of the woman I dislike. 

Colossians 3:12-14  Therefore, as God's chosen people,

 holy and dearly loved, 

clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness,

 humility, gentleness, and patience. 

Bear with each other and forgive one another 

if any of you has a grievance againts someone. 

Forgive as the Lord forgave you. 

And over all these virtues put on love, 

which binds them all together in perfect unity. 

Lord, forgive me for my pride. Forgive me for my gossip. I don't know how to like this woman but I know you love her so help me to show her your love and compassion. Help me to reflect you and your grace in my interactions both with and about this woman. Help me to reflect you, not me, not her, but only you.

Dear New Mom (plus a giveaway!)

Dear New Mom,

I see you, bleary eyed and exhausted.  And I remember being you.  When you nearly shoved your newborn in my arms for a break from her crying, I remembered nearly shoving my own newborn in another been there-done that mamma's arms so that I could have a break.

When you asked if she would ever sleep, I chuckled.  Not because I thought the question was funny but because it brought back the memory of the day my husband came home from work to see me with tears streaming down my cheeks and me saying, "I'm never going to sleep again as long as I live!"  I remember sobbing and feeling so alone.  I remember being convinced that life would never be "normal" again.

Let me tell you this, you are not alone.  You are not the only mother to wonder if you will ever again close your eyes for more than a couple of hours at a time.  You are not the only mamma who longs for a cup of coffee that is still hot when you finish it or for a meal the temperature it was intended to be.

You are not the first mom to wonder if you are doing something wrong when that sweet bundle of joy in your arms is anything but sweet, when all he does is cry.  You aren't the only one who wonders at times why you thought becoming a mom seemed so glamorous before the baby came along and now it just seems loud and exhausting and not glamorous at all.

I don't think I could say it loud enough, YOU ARE NOT ALONE! I've been there too.  I've been the mom living in fear of not being enough for these tiny little ones who needed everything done for them and most of it needed to be done by me.  I've been the mom who tried to sneak into the shower while the baby was sleeping blissfully only to hear his cries the moment I got under the warm water.

During those days with babies and toddlers hanging on me as if they were superglued to my side I looked forward to two things that helped me through those times.  One was going to the grocery store.  Before you stop reading and assume that I've completely lost my mind because no mom in her right mind wants to load up kids in carseats to go to the store, listen to the reason.  I specifically went to one King Soopers, the one close enough to the retirement community that its aisles were always filled with little old ladies.  Every single time I went in with kids in tow some beautiful old lady would touch my arm and remind me that I was going to make it through these days.  I can't tell you how many times I heard stories like, "Oh, I remember trying to shop with all of my kids too.  Those were hard days but so worth it.  You're doing a great job mamma.  You're going to make it through this."  Those old ladies were my strength on days when I wasn't sure how to cope.  They reminded me that motherhood is hard but it is also beautiful and worth it.  A few times, on difficult days, I even  made up reasons to go to the grocery store just to hear their words of encouragement.

The other thing that I looked forward to with a passion was MOPS (mother's of preschoolers).  To sit a table with other moms who were sleep deprived, and leaking in awkward places, with dried baby food in their hair was refreshing.  To walk in crying when my husband lost his job and to have arms surround me showed me we had a support network.  When I was ill, these moms brought my family dinner.  During rough financial times they sent encouraging notes and grocery gift cards.  When I was on bed rest during my second pregnancy they came and cleaned my house top to bottom for me so that I wouldn't be stressed about it.  MOPS saved my sanity, made me a better wife and mother, helped me to see myself as a beautiful daughter of the King, encouraged me as a woman, proved that there really was a leader in this mess of a woman and pulled her out, and brought me some amazing lifelong friends. 

So, my dear new mom (and those of you whose babies now sleep through the night but you still wonder if they will ever pee in the toilet or buckle their own seatbelts) I have this encouragement for you; you will one day sleep again.  You will make it through this season, this beautiful and crazy and often messy season of mothering.  And I have this advice for you; find a grocery store where the old ladies shop.  They love to reminisce and they are great encouragers.  And the second bit of advice, find yourself a MOPS group where you can be real about your own beautiful mess!

Though I can't help you find the right grocery store, I can help you get to MOPS.  MOPS International has given me the opportunity to give away one free membership ($23.95 value). Here is how the giveaway works.  Leave me a comment and tell me 1. your name (crazy how I would need that information to give you something, isn't it?) 2. the part of motherhood that is currently overwhelming 3. the part of mothering that is currently the most beautiful (yes, it is ok to say when the baby is finally asleep!)  The winner will be selected on Friday September 27 as part of my family's Friday Fun Night. As the mom of all boys the choosing of the winner will involve lots of fun and laughter and possibly either Nerf guns or Regurgitating Rico (the Penguins of Madagascar toy that shoots yellow "popcorn" balls out of Rico's mouth).

*Disclaimer:  you don't have to be the mom to win but you do have to have someone in mind to give the membership to.  So if you're a dad and your wife needs MOPS, tell me about it.  Tell me what makes your wife an amazing mom.  If you're a Grandma and your daughter needs MOPS, tell me about it.  Tell me about why she needs MOPS.  If you're an auntie and your sister needs MOPS, tell me about it.  I think you get the picture.  I don't want any mom to miss out on what was one of the most amazing experiences of my early mothering years just because it's someone else who is reading this instead of her!

what not how

Early in our marriage, my husband would load the dishwasher.  I would come along behind, completely annoyed at how he had loaded it and would rearrange the dishes.  I knew my way was the right way because I could fit more dishes in the dishwasher.  I didn't get on his case, I never yelled or nagged.  I simply rearranged.  No fight needed. 

Eventually the day came when I was annoyed because he hadn't loaded the dishwasher.  I found myself getting more and more annoyed.  I was reaching my breaking point, I should not be the only person in the house who did dishes!  Finally one day my frustration boiled over and I asked why I he wasn't helping with dishes anymore.

"Because you're just going to redo it so what is the point of both of us doing it?  It is just doubling the work."

I felt the air exit my lungs.  Really?  That was it?  I was that wife?  Here I had thought that by not bringing it up, by not nagging, by not riding his case that I was doing us both a favor.  I was showing him the right way to load the dishwasher in a gentle manner that involved no argument.  But my actions were still nagging even though my words weren't.

I was completely humbled by that conversation.  I realized that I could have the dishes done MY way but that meant that we weren't partners, I would always be the one to do the dishes.  I proposed to him then that we would have a new rule in our marriage, what not how.  We both agreed that we can ask the other in love to help out but cannot hover or require it to be done our way.  I can ask for what I need done but I cannot tell him how to get it done. 

I realized that I can have my dishes done my way or I could have help.  Help sounded nicer to me than a perfectly loaded dishwasher.  Some days it is really hard to not "fix" things.  Some days it is really hard to not micromanage.  Some days it is hard to let go and accept that we do things differently.  And the really hard part is remembering that rule with my kids.

I can teach my children how to mow the lawn and take out the trash.  I can give them the knowledge of the basic skills.  But really is it the end of the world that my middle child starts mowing the lawn in the middle of the yard instead of traveling in neat rows that begin on one end of the lawn and move evenly across to the other side?  No, in the end the grass (weeds, whatever....) ends up completely cut even though he doesn't move in the same pattern that I do.  It it helpful or beneficial for me to get myself worked up and demand it gets done the way I want it done or should I just thank him for mowing the lawn and be grateful that I didn't have to do it? 

By the way, I totally have to walk away when he mows the lawn.  It may be the only thing that keeps me from criticizing how he does it......

Food for thought... Are you happy when things get done or do you need them done your way?  It is a process, learning to be thankful for the what and worry less about the how.  A process that I still fail at but I'm getting better each day. 

Things our sons need to know because our daughters need to hear

As my sons get older I realize there are some things they be to hear.  There are things I've said since they started talking like, "Marry a girl who loves your mama" and "Someday when you are a dad the 2 greatest things you can do for your children is introduce them to Jesus and love their mama."  The list of things I think my boys need to hear is growing longer. 

Last month I was trying on clothes and seeking my husbands opinion on the new clothes.  I noticed my son intently watching our dialog.   I looked him in the eyes and told him something every boy needs to know.

"Son,  someday there will be a beautiful girl in your life.  She will ask you about her clothes,  probably often. Learn from your daddy's example. In that moment your job is to remind her that it is not the clothes that make her beautiful but rather she makes the clothes beautiful.  She is asking about the clothes because she wants to know you find her beautiful. Your opinion will matter to her more than anyone else's so tell her often how beautiful she is."

He shrugged but I felt like he actually heard it.  I'm sure he filed it in his brain somewhere.  Someday I hope that my daughter in laws will feel as amazingly loved, treasured and protected as my husband has made me feel.  I'm so grateful for the example that Hubby has set for our sons and for the gentle way that he loves me and protects me and I pray that my sons will grow up to love their wives in the same way. 

war of the words

We had a "family meeting"  or as my husband calls it, a "comin to Jesus meeting" on New Year's eve.  My boys were just non stop attacking each other with their words.  It seems that no amount of hearing me say "friends will come and go but you will be brothers forever, take care of each other" was going to change their attitudes on that particular day. 

Evening came and finally Hubby had had ENOUGH.  So we had a family meeting.  At the end of the meeting, everyone seemed to really be getting it.  We decided as a family that in 2013 our goal will be to use our words wisely, to use our words to help not hurt.  We pulled down the verse over my kitchen sink and read it to the boys. Ephesians 4:29 "Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouth but only that which is helpful for the building up others according to their needs that it may benefit those who listen."  We decided as a family that would be our theme verse for the year.

So our family goal in 2013 is to say words that benefit the person listening to us, words that will build each other up and words that will build up those around us.  We all agreed to THINK before we speak.....

T-is it true

    H-is it helpful

       I-is it inspiring

          N-is it necessary 

K-is it kind

Often words are true but not helpful, inspiring, necessary or kind.  We want to work on those last ones and when we do speak the truth to each, we will speak it in love not anger.

And finally, I saw these two quotes on Facebook and they were just too good to not share....

and this one....

in which I finally acknowledge tragedy and begin to grieve

Friday the news rocked my world.  Friday I tucked my heart into hiding for a few days.  Children killed.  Parents grieving.  I just couldn't wrap my brain around it.  I didn't watch the news.  I didn't listen to the radio.  I stopped looking at Facebook feeds.  I tried so hard to isolate myself from this horrible evil.  I think I felt like if I didn't acknowledge it that it didn't really happen.

A friend of mine reminded me that my reaction was not really unusual.  We just got through another shooting, one in my neighborhood, in my theater.  I don't want to think about yet another shooting.  I don't want to think of children crying and scared.  I don't want to think of the instant lump in my throat when I imagine being a parent there and looking for news of my children.  I want to pretend it never happened.

Yesterday when a friend texted me asking how my oldest was doing with the news of the shooting, I realized that we have to tell our kids.  Other kids my son's age know.  I cannot keep this from them, they will find out whether I tell them or not.  I sat on my bed an leaned into my husband's strong arms.  Tears slid down my cheeks and I realized something.  It wasn't out of fear that I had not told my children.  It wasn't trying to protect them that I hadn't talked about it.  It was simply self preservation.  If I talked about it then it really happened.  So the woman who has told her children about the Ft. Hood shooting (they asked on that one), and about the theater shooting, and about missing, later found murdered, little Jessica Ridgeway couldn't bring herself to tell them about this shooting.

Tomorrow my boys go back to school, the first time since the Sandy Hook shooting.  Tonight they needed to hear.  I read everything I could find online about talking with my kids about this.  Turns out that I already knew it, I just didn't want to do it.  So if you are like me and words swirled incoherently in your brain, here is how we talked to OUR kids.  This is what worked for OUR family.

First we didn't tell them the ages of the children or the number of children killed.  My oldest was already in tears once we said "another shooting in a different state in a school" and the number of dead and the ages was too much information for his tender heart.  Your kid may be different and may need those details to process.

We focused on the heroes.  We talked about the teacher who hid her students and died protecting them.  We talked about the teacher who kept her kids in a bathroom and read to them and told them how much she loved them so that they would hear her loving words more than the scary noises around them.  We talked about the goodness of people even as the evil was going on around them.

We never once reassured them that they are safe.  I know all the papers say to, but I couldn't.  Those children killed on Friday morning all thought they were safe.  I'd rather my kids know that Jesus is with them even when it is scary or unsafe than have them believe they are safe and then God forbid one day have them discover that they are not safe.  So we focused on that God is good even when life isn't.  We focused on the comfort that God says He gives us in times of hurt.  We didn't focus on safety because that is not something I can guarantee.  God's love is something that I can guarantee.  Let's stick with what I KNOW to be true.

We talked about how some people get sick in their head but feel different from everybody else and so they don't get help.  We talked about how just like it is ok for my kids to take medicine for an ear infection, that it is ok for people whose brains are sick to take medicine to help their brains.  Maybe if I can start erasing the stigma of mental illness with my children now while they are young, they will remember it when they are older and will continue to fight it when they grow up.

We talked about what we can do to make this world a better place.  We talked about being nice to the lonely kid in the corner.  We talked about praying for those who hurt us.  We talked about choosing love even when it is hard.  We talked about how you don't know someone else's story.  Maybe they are mean because they are sad and no one listens to them, or they are being hurt, or mom and dad are fighting or divorcing.  You don't know what is going on in someone's life or why they behave the way they do.  You never know when a kind word is enough to change a person's day or maybe his life.

My middle child asked us the name of the guy who killed those people.  I told him if he wants to remember a name he should remember the name Victoria Soto because she was a hero.  I told him I don't want to remember the name of the shooter, I want to remember the names of the people who died as heroes.  Later when it was just me and him he said, "But, Mom, I just want to know his name so I can pray for him to know God.  I want him to know God and serve God.  He really needs God most of all and I just want to pray for him."  My heart melted a hundred times over.  I told him that the man had killed himself after he killed the other people.  I asked if there were anymore questions.  He said no.  I asked him to describe how he was feeling, he said sad and confused.  He was confused at why the guy would kill himself.  I love my precious boys and the tenderness already in their young hearts.

It is never easy to have to take away a piece of my children's innocence.  It is never easy to tell them that evil things happen.  But somehow we do it.  I believe that they need to know they can talk to mom and dad.  I believe that they need to know we will be honest, that we will answer questions, that they can talk about the hard stuff with us.  I also believe that when it comes to big news, they need to hear it from us before they hear it from friends whenever possible.  My beliefs sometimes suck.  Sometimes those beliefs make talking to my children heart wrenching.  Being a parent is hard!

And I'm going to end it off with some links to some really well written things that have either helped me process myself or reminded me that I can indeed talk to my children.

http://traceysolomon.wordpress.com/2012/12/14/elementary-school-shooting-breaks-the-heart-of-moms-parents-everywhere-what-now-i-choose-love/

http://traceysolomon.wordpress.com/2012/12/16/the-monday-after-sandy-hook-in-which-we-confront-our-fear-and-refuse-to-let-evil-win/

http://www.ordinarycourage.com/my-blog/2012/12/14/prayers-for-the-sandy-hook-elementary-school-community.html  (this one also links several websites for talking to kids about violence or tragedy)

http://www.jeffcopublicschools.org/ (if you live in Jefferson County in Colorado, the schools website gives some information about free trauma counseling)

The Role for Caring Adults After a School or Community Tragedy

Aurora Public Schools has a phone number rather than a website if you think your kids need help professional help processing.  The following is taken from the written response APS gave  on their website to the recent tragedy: If you would like assistance connecting with a counselor, please contact staff at your children’s school or Aurora Mental Health at 303-617-2300.

what I learned from helping my son

My baby has been struggling.  For several months he has randomly started crying and telling me he is sad. Recently it is becoming more and more frequent.  He never knows why he is sad or what is causing him to go from laughing to crying in a matter of minutes.  The other day he climbed in my lap, stroked my hair and said, "Mamma, I'm just sad."

I have no answers or cures for him.  But I happen to be struggling with the same thing currently so I hugged him tightly and told him that I get sad for no reason sometimes too.  I grabbed my Bible that I had been reading before he came in and read Philippians 4:4-8 to him.

Rejoice in the Lord always.  I will say it again: Rejoice!

We can choose to have joy.

Let your gentleness be evident to all.  The Lord is near.

God is near us, Baby.

Do not be anxious about anything, 

That means we aren't supposed to worry.

but in everything, by prayer and petition, 

with thanksgiving, present your request to God.

And the peace of God which transcends all understanding

will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

That means that God gives us peace in our hearts that is bigger than our brains can understand.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true,

whatever is noble,

whatever is right,

whatever is pure,

whatever is lovely

 whatever is admirable

if anything is excellent or praiseworthy

think on these things.

Baby, that means that God wants us to spend our time thinking about the things 

in our lives that we are thankful for, for the blessings He gives us, and every good thing.

Tell me something you are thankful for, something that makes you smile.  "I don't know, Mamma.  I can't think of anything."  Well, I can tell you something  that makes me smile.  You make me smile.  I'm thankful for you.  Now it is your turn.

You.

Coffee in my Christmas mug.

My monkeys.

That our heater works.

Playing with my friends at recess.

Hugs and kisses.

Brothers.

The conversation continued for several minutes.  And then his sweet voice says, "Mamma, I still feel sad."  I know, Baby.  We will still get sad sometimes.  What we need to do is hold on to those things we are thankful for, those things that make us smile, until  the sadness passes.  And at some point the sadness will pass.  Just keep holding on to those good things until the sadness passes. 

I don't know how long it will be until my sadness passes, but I will continue to greet the day with intentional thankfulness until the sadness passes.  I will continue to hold on to the things that are true, noble, worthy of praise and trust that God is indeed near and that He will indeed guard my heart and mind with His peace. 

What if I screw this up?

It was an October morning a decade ago.  My newborn son was cradled in my arms.  After nearly two years of waiting, hoping, praying, testing, losing, excitement and tears he was finally here.  Finally my arms were no longer empty.  Everything I had hoped for since the beginning of my memory slept there in my arms.  I was a mommy.  All was right in the world.

And then this wonderful nurse came in and informed me that my doctor was signing the discharge papers as we spoke.  I could take this precious treasure and go home.  Suddenly I panicked.  Maybe everything I had ever wanted was too much.  Maybe I wasn't cut out for this job and all those infertility treatments were forcing something that was never meant to be.

Are you SURE?  My voice cracked as I asked.

"Am I sure what?" she asked.

"Are you sure you trust me to take him home?  Are you sure you trust me to take care of him and meet his needs?  What if I screw this up?"  The tears started falling as I verbalized the fears that were taking root in my heart.  What if I screw this up? 

She chuckled and assured me that I was up to the job.  She assured me that every mother that came before me had asked the same question.  She squeezed my shoulder and told me I'd do a great job, that I was going to be a great mom and that I wasn't going to screw this up.

The sleepless infant nights passed.  The crazy preschool years passed.  And we survived them without screwing up, at least not too badly.  Now my kids are school aged.  The problems we encounter are no longer poop Picasso wall paintings, and spilled olive oil all over the kitchen floor.  My greatest parenting struggle is no longer that I haven't showered in a week, that there is crusty food in my hair and that I haven't talked to another adult besides my husband in days.

My son has a friend whose parents just split.  On a Friday one of his best friends was at school, on the following Monday she was gone.  Her parents suddenly split over the weekend and mom and daughter moved away.  His heart is heavy.  I have a child who can be happy as sunshine and then suddenly breaks down into tears telling me that he feels sad but he doesn't know why.  I have a child who regularly makes comments about weight, one day diets, feeling lighter for a day, and sometimes refuses to eat. 

My children now need me to guide them through big things, to guide them through tough emotions.  I have to explain theater shootings, a missing and later discovered murdered and dismembered child, friends moving without being able to say goodbye.  And the other day, with tears in my eyes, I asked it again.  I looked deep into my husband's eyes and asked,

What if I screw this up?

It isn't wiping noses and butts anymore.  Now it is guiding them through life, making sure that home is a safe place to land when they fall, helping them to feel the emotions that threaten to overwhelm them.  I know God hand picked me for these boys.  I know He thinks I'm the best mom for these kids.  I don't however know why He thinks that.  I only vaguely trust that, just like the nurse said to me ten years ago, that I can do this, that I won't screw this up. 

Thank God that He covers me.  Thank God that He can bridge the gaps that I leave.  Thank God that He has called me to be mommy to these boys.  Because without His grace and mercy, without His calling, without His strength, I'm sure I'd screw this up!