Anytime I see a rainbow, I can't help but think of my maternal grandmother. She died when I was 21, but she left an imprint on my heart that will never fade. Today, I didn't even see a real rainbow; it was just a picture, but it still reminded me of her illness and the promises of God. When my Grammy (her choice I promise) was ill, we would drive a certain back road to get from her house to the hospital she was in that was about an hour and a half away. It seemed like every time we went, we saw at least one rainbow, maybe more. We would cry and praise God for His promises. We knew her death was only a matter of time, and at that point, we were torn between wanting to hang on to her and knowing it would be more merciful to allow her to let go. I've always loved her in a special way that I can't explain, and her death was scary to me. I asked God a lot of questions about why she had to suffer so much, and eventually He showed me the answer.
My grandmother was a wonderful lady. She was not, however, a great Christian example in her life. She was of the luke warm class. I do not say this disrespectfully; I am simply being honest. She went to church, usually. She taught Sunday school when she was on an upswing. It was obvious she was saved, but she did not serve God to the fullest. When I was little, I thought she was the most magnificent person in the world. She always paid attention to me, gave me anything I wanted, took me anywhere I wanted to go. She was a southern lady in all respects; she was the kind of lady who wore pantyhose with her dress shorts in 110 degree Georgia heat. She never left her house without putting on her make up and fixing her hair. She smoked constantly. She was silly. She made up songs constantly (a trait I tease my mother about as well). She drank coffee when it was so hot outside I thought I would pass out. She taught me to swim (though not well). She was refined and raw at the same time. She was artistic (and tried in vain to make me so). She made the best lasagna I have ever eaten. She was irreverent at times. She was feisty and full of life. She and my mother taught me to shop. She died her hair blond until it turned white, and then she convinced herself it was blonde naturally. To me, she was perfect. As I grew, I realized that she was not the kind of Christian I wanted to be. In turn, she wanted me to be a better Christian than she had been, and she told me so. I'm glad. My grandmother was a diabetic from the time she was in her early forties until her death in her late sixties. I thought for so long that she took great care of herself and her illness because she ate at certain times, always checked her sugar, always carried a little can of orange juice in her purse. If only I had known then what I know now about controlling blood sugar levels I could have helped her extend and improve her life towards the end. But alas...
By her last year on earth, she had been on dialysis for 7 years, she needed heart surgery (they couldn't do much due to the shape it was in), and her worse fears came true. I don't know if every diabetic fears amputation to the extent my grandmother did, but I remember even when I was young that she would tell us to never let them "cut off my legs". She told us she would rather die. She told my grandfather that, and when she was in surgery for her heart, a surgeon came out and told him that what she needed was an amputation of one leg. My grandfather, God bless him, could not make the decision to keep the leg that would kill her in a few days, so he went against her wishes and signed for an amputation. I believe this decision haunted him for the rest of his life (he died almost exactly 8 months after her). That partial amputation of one leg eventually led to the amputation of both legs up to the thigh and a great deal of tissue removal that soon followed due to bed sores. It was horrible. My poor mother, who tried her best to tend to her mother and father while actually living over 500 miles away suffered from the trauma for a long time afterwards. And she's the strongest person I know. I have to protect myself from the sadness that threatens to consume me once again when I think of how horribly she suffered for the last 6 months of her life. Therefore, I can't tell you in any more detail what she went through. However, through her suffering I saw the most amazing thing.
While my grandmother was not always the best Christian example in her life, she was one of the most effective in her death. Not one time did she feel sorry for herself. She fought hard for as long as we asked her to do so. Eventually, even my grandpa allowed her to let go. She never got mad at him for letting the doctors take her legs. She never made me feel guilty when I visited for not being there more. Even while she was losing every bit of pride and control of her own body, she did everything she could to make it easier for us. Isn't that amazing? She lived in severe pain, knowing she was going to eventually die, but she stayed steady for us. I asked my mother later on, in a little anger I'll admit, why she had to suffer so much and other people die so easily. "Because God knew she could." Simple, huh? My grandfather followed her in his sleep. "Massive heart attack", they said. "Never felt a thing." Why? I still wondered. I know he had suffered enough, with his wife, but why weren't the roles reversed? I know the answer. Marylynn had a chance to do in death what I believe she wished she had done in life. She showed us that to remain steady in your faith in the worse circumstances you can imagine, will leave an impact on those around you. My father asked her once before we left to come home if she was ready. Was she ready to meet Jesus? She wasn't talking much then, but she didn't hesitate for a moment when she said yes. I heard her myself, and I know she meant it. She lived for two more weeks after that, but she knew her time was soon. Her husband, my Papa, couldn't have gone out like that in the same circumstances. He would have wallowed in self pity, been mean, ranted, raved, you name it. That is who he was. Her death changed him a little though. It softened him. I can see now that their deaths both served a purpose in my life. I learned so much about God and His love for us through my grandmother's willingness to suffer because she loved us so much. How much more was the pain of the cross? unimaginable.
In so many ways, she helped make me who I am today. She molded my mother in a special relationship, who in turn molded me. She built my confidence when no one else could, and she used what life she had left, to show the world true strength. I don't know why I even felt like I should write this, and I'm not sure how it fits in my blog. I'm just thankful that at the last minute, Dean and I decided to take part of her name (and my mother's passed down from her) to use in naming Tinker Belle. And now that I think of it, maybe that's where Tinker's feisty little attitude comes from at times. Here is what I pray when I think of my Grammy:
"God, thank you for giving Grammy the opportunity to show her devotion to You. Help my family to have learned to serve You throughout our lives, because death may come soon. I praise You for the time you gave me with her, and while I sometimes feel sad that she didn't get to meet my children, thank You for life everlasting where we will meet again. Help me keep her memory real in my heart. Thank You for Your promises in life to never leave us or forsake us. Thank You for rainbows that bring that promise to my mind. You're a majestic in ways I cannot express and the beauty You give us is humbling. Reflect holiness in my life, God. I love You, I love You, I love You."
When I picture her now, I see her dancing on those long legs that she has once again. Smiling. Pain free. Redeemed.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
Letting go...(a little)
I'm a self professed control freak when it comes to my kids' doctor appointments. However, taking the first six weeks of the school year off, and missing every time one of my three kids has been sick has taken a toll on my leave days (meaning I only have a few and that is after some very generous friends donated me some of theirs). So, for the first time ever, I will be sending the twins to a "well baby" check up with someone else. Granted, my mother is the one taking them, and I know she will ask any questions I give her (I hope the doctor doesn't see my mom and think he's getting out of anything). If it can't be me (or Dean of course) to take them, I'm glad it's her, because I'm a lot like her in my tendency to ask too many questions out of a fear of not asking enough. It still makes me sad though. I know Tank will get his feelings her when the smiling nurse gives him a shot, and Tinker Belle will be devastated by the pain and cry on and off for a few minutes. I know that the appointment falls right before nap time and that the trip over will make them fall asleep and get them off schedule. I wish I were going, and honestly, I'm not completely convinced I won't change my mind and do so. More than anything, though, I think this is a test for me. Am I capable of letting go of that control? I'll wait until after the appointment to finish this post...
Well, I did in fact let my mom and my sister in law take the twins to their check up. You know what? The world didn't end, and I don't feel horribly judged by anyone. Luckily, they didn't get shots this time. Tinker Belle is still measuring tiny, and Tank is still measuring pretty big. My mother asked plenty of questions, and they didn't wreck just because I wasn't in the car. In truth, this was one of the least stressful appointments for the twins. Even though I packed the diaper bag and laid out their clothes, it seemed like a lot less work to prepare for the visit. This may be because they are getting older, I'm getting better at packing up their stuff, or (oh, yeah) the fact that I didn't actually have to get them dressed (smiles). It all worked out fine in the end. I don't know if I secretly think there's an award in a doctor's office for the mother who accompanies her children to every appointment, or if I just want them to know that I am the mom (which equals the most important person in each child's life and therefore you must respect me....). I truly don't know what drives me to be the one there asking a huge list of mostly ridiculous questions. It was good for me though to send them with my mom and sis in law. I learned that something like that can be let go, and I'm the same mother I was before.
For those of you who understand my sick obsession, here's my prayer for us: "Father, help me to always remember that You are all I need, and whether I am reading to accept it or not, You are all my children need as well. Help me to realize that it is okay to let others help me with my children. Thank You for people who want to do so. Thank You for surrounding my family with others who love us sincerely. Help me to let go of things that are not important. Help me to let go of my mommy ego. I will praise You forever."
Well, I did in fact let my mom and my sister in law take the twins to their check up. You know what? The world didn't end, and I don't feel horribly judged by anyone. Luckily, they didn't get shots this time. Tinker Belle is still measuring tiny, and Tank is still measuring pretty big. My mother asked plenty of questions, and they didn't wreck just because I wasn't in the car. In truth, this was one of the least stressful appointments for the twins. Even though I packed the diaper bag and laid out their clothes, it seemed like a lot less work to prepare for the visit. This may be because they are getting older, I'm getting better at packing up their stuff, or (oh, yeah) the fact that I didn't actually have to get them dressed (smiles). It all worked out fine in the end. I don't know if I secretly think there's an award in a doctor's office for the mother who accompanies her children to every appointment, or if I just want them to know that I am the mom (which equals the most important person in each child's life and therefore you must respect me....). I truly don't know what drives me to be the one there asking a huge list of mostly ridiculous questions. It was good for me though to send them with my mom and sis in law. I learned that something like that can be let go, and I'm the same mother I was before.
For those of you who understand my sick obsession, here's my prayer for us: "Father, help me to always remember that You are all I need, and whether I am reading to accept it or not, You are all my children need as well. Help me to realize that it is okay to let others help me with my children. Thank You for people who want to do so. Thank You for surrounding my family with others who love us sincerely. Help me to let go of things that are not important. Help me to let go of my mommy ego. I will praise You forever."
Monday, April 9, 2012
Shoulder talking
You know how on old cartoons a character's conscience was portrayed by two little versions of them on their shoulders fighting back and forth? Well, I've had some interesting arguments from other people in my world lately that reminded me of just that. There have been a few angels, and as is usually the case, there have been a few devils as well. I'm not literally calling anyone an angel or a devil, but I think you get the idea.
Here's my story:
*enter devil on shoulder*I ran into a lady the other day who I used to know. She inquired about my family's well being, admired my children individually, and proceeded to tell me she "just couldn't believe (I) went back to work after having (my) twins and that she just couldn't bare the thought of it. She didn't know how I did it. Who kept them all every day anyway? etc. etc. etc." You'd be proud of me. I didn't get defensive at all, and honestly, I just didn't answer some of the questions she asked. I do not hide the fact that I work mainly because I need to do so financially, but I don't know that the reason has all that much to do with having children. I most definitely would have quit working permanently when I had my children if that were an option, but I cannot guarantee I would be any less crazy. Honestly, I'd probably be even more crazy than I am now if I were a stay at home mom. I love the idea of it, but it's a life that is stressful in a way I can't explain to those who have never experienced it. Anyway, I didn't feel the need to tell her why I went back to work, which is largely due to the fact that I enjoy being able to have things such as electricity and food without struggling horrifically to do so. I simply explained the sitter arrangement, said yes, I did in fact go to work again, and dismissed myself. I was pretty proud though. I know good and well that God must have shut down part of my brain so that I didn't make a scene in the line of a public establishment, but I patted myself on the back a little mentally, too. I had at least let God take control of the situation, and he did a great job of keeping my mouth in check. I refused to defend myself to someone who did not understand my choices. As a mother, it is very difficult not to defend my choices. I strive to make the best "mommy" decisions I can, and the fact that I'm personally torn about the idea myself makes me even more insecure and defensive about it. Life went on. I shook my head at the situation, refused to obsess over whether any meanness was intended, held my head up high, and enjoyed being with my kids that day.
*enter angel on shoulder*I ran into a former acquaintance from high school who I stay in touch with on face book at an egg hunt in my home town. She complimented my post baby physique and told me she admired me for being able to "do it all", which I think all you ladies can understand as a mommy compliment. She made me feel like all the hard work I do is appreciated, though unseen, because she knows what being a mother consists of and can do the general math of adding two little babies to a family of three. I accepted her compliments as best as I could. I think most people now are bad at being complimented. I am pretty convinced that I do not do the mommy thing all that flawlessly, and feel the need to point out all my flaws when complimented. She will never know how much she encouraged me.
*enter devil on shoulder* I ran into another lady I used to know from the same place as the first lady (weird all the people I'm running into lately, huh?) on the same day that I ran into the angel. She, as a new grandmother, inquired about my children enough to solicit an inquiry about her new grandchild (I would've asked anyway). The conversation (in the middle of the grocery store) led on and on and eventually landed on the topic of if I had gone back to work. I replied that yes I had, and she seemed very shocked at the answer. "How do you do it?!?" asked she. "I don't know. I just do." I replied. She goes on, "Well who keeps your kids?" I answered with the list of those who keep them. (In case I have never actually explained this, here it goes. My mother keeps my children one day a week, my godmother keeps them two days a week, and my in laws keep them two days a week. We try to keep the days consistent for the ease of all involved, but we are all really good at working together to make sure everyone is organized and doesn't miss an appointment or anything, so the organization of it all can be stressful at times. They all come to my house to keep my children, which is good for my children since they are in their own homes. It is also good for the sitters since everything they need is at hand.) I didn't explain to this lady that my sitters all came to my house simply because I didn't think to do so. She responded, "Well, I am the only one who keeps my grandchild because WE don't want HIM to be passed around too much to EVERYONE and get off schedule." I smiled blankly...."Well, ahem, I can understand that. That is exactly the reason why all of MY sitters VOLUNTEERED to come to MY house to keep them in THEIR environment." I'm not proud of the crack in my confidence here that caused me to feel the need to defend myself, and I have since repented of it. I couldn't help myself though, in that moment of flesh, because in my mind, she was attacking the fact that I have several different people keep my children rather than just one person. Everyone who keeps my children loves them unconditionally. I know that my children have their needs met, are hugged and kissed, and are spending time with someone who will be important in their lives. I consider my baby sitter situation to be one of best biggest blessings from God at this moment in my life. Therefore, I defended the situation. I shouldn't have; I know that now. God tells us that he is our defender, and who am I to think I could just in and handle the thing? I'm sorry I let you all down. I feel like I should have held my head up, known that I was doing the best I can in life and right with God in the decisions I made.
I have several angels on my shoulder in life. Sissy is naturally an encourager, my mom is my biggest fan, and all the friends I have close to me are the kind to not only let you know everything is okay but change a diaper while they are doing it. I also have you ladies who encourage me either on here, through email, or on my face book. I'm especially thankful for S. Paul and her sister C. Burgan who are my mommy blog cheerleaders. They really help me keep this going through encouragement. Funny though, the devils on my shoulder leave me shaken, and Satan certainly knows when to send them my way. Pray for me ladies, and I'll pray for you.
Here is my prayer: "Thank you, God, for being our defender. Thank You for encouraging us in our spirits as well as through Godly people you send our way, and sweet strangers who pass through our lives. Help us to keep in mind that no decision we make will be approved of by everyone, and that we are not here to make the world happy, but to glorify You. Help us to keep Your glory our focus in life. Help us to love our children like we should, and help us to love both the angels and the devils that perch on our shoulders. We praise You."
Here's my story:
*enter devil on shoulder*I ran into a lady the other day who I used to know. She inquired about my family's well being, admired my children individually, and proceeded to tell me she "just couldn't believe (I) went back to work after having (my) twins and that she just couldn't bare the thought of it. She didn't know how I did it. Who kept them all every day anyway? etc. etc. etc." You'd be proud of me. I didn't get defensive at all, and honestly, I just didn't answer some of the questions she asked. I do not hide the fact that I work mainly because I need to do so financially, but I don't know that the reason has all that much to do with having children. I most definitely would have quit working permanently when I had my children if that were an option, but I cannot guarantee I would be any less crazy. Honestly, I'd probably be even more crazy than I am now if I were a stay at home mom. I love the idea of it, but it's a life that is stressful in a way I can't explain to those who have never experienced it. Anyway, I didn't feel the need to tell her why I went back to work, which is largely due to the fact that I enjoy being able to have things such as electricity and food without struggling horrifically to do so. I simply explained the sitter arrangement, said yes, I did in fact go to work again, and dismissed myself. I was pretty proud though. I know good and well that God must have shut down part of my brain so that I didn't make a scene in the line of a public establishment, but I patted myself on the back a little mentally, too. I had at least let God take control of the situation, and he did a great job of keeping my mouth in check. I refused to defend myself to someone who did not understand my choices. As a mother, it is very difficult not to defend my choices. I strive to make the best "mommy" decisions I can, and the fact that I'm personally torn about the idea myself makes me even more insecure and defensive about it. Life went on. I shook my head at the situation, refused to obsess over whether any meanness was intended, held my head up high, and enjoyed being with my kids that day.
*enter angel on shoulder*I ran into a former acquaintance from high school who I stay in touch with on face book at an egg hunt in my home town. She complimented my post baby physique and told me she admired me for being able to "do it all", which I think all you ladies can understand as a mommy compliment. She made me feel like all the hard work I do is appreciated, though unseen, because she knows what being a mother consists of and can do the general math of adding two little babies to a family of three. I accepted her compliments as best as I could. I think most people now are bad at being complimented. I am pretty convinced that I do not do the mommy thing all that flawlessly, and feel the need to point out all my flaws when complimented. She will never know how much she encouraged me.
*enter devil on shoulder* I ran into another lady I used to know from the same place as the first lady (weird all the people I'm running into lately, huh?) on the same day that I ran into the angel. She, as a new grandmother, inquired about my children enough to solicit an inquiry about her new grandchild (I would've asked anyway). The conversation (in the middle of the grocery store) led on and on and eventually landed on the topic of if I had gone back to work. I replied that yes I had, and she seemed very shocked at the answer. "How do you do it?!?" asked she. "I don't know. I just do." I replied. She goes on, "Well who keeps your kids?" I answered with the list of those who keep them. (In case I have never actually explained this, here it goes. My mother keeps my children one day a week, my godmother keeps them two days a week, and my in laws keep them two days a week. We try to keep the days consistent for the ease of all involved, but we are all really good at working together to make sure everyone is organized and doesn't miss an appointment or anything, so the organization of it all can be stressful at times. They all come to my house to keep my children, which is good for my children since they are in their own homes. It is also good for the sitters since everything they need is at hand.) I didn't explain to this lady that my sitters all came to my house simply because I didn't think to do so. She responded, "Well, I am the only one who keeps my grandchild because WE don't want HIM to be passed around too much to EVERYONE and get off schedule." I smiled blankly...."Well, ahem, I can understand that. That is exactly the reason why all of MY sitters VOLUNTEERED to come to MY house to keep them in THEIR environment." I'm not proud of the crack in my confidence here that caused me to feel the need to defend myself, and I have since repented of it. I couldn't help myself though, in that moment of flesh, because in my mind, she was attacking the fact that I have several different people keep my children rather than just one person. Everyone who keeps my children loves them unconditionally. I know that my children have their needs met, are hugged and kissed, and are spending time with someone who will be important in their lives. I consider my baby sitter situation to be one of best biggest blessings from God at this moment in my life. Therefore, I defended the situation. I shouldn't have; I know that now. God tells us that he is our defender, and who am I to think I could just in and handle the thing? I'm sorry I let you all down. I feel like I should have held my head up, known that I was doing the best I can in life and right with God in the decisions I made.
I have several angels on my shoulder in life. Sissy is naturally an encourager, my mom is my biggest fan, and all the friends I have close to me are the kind to not only let you know everything is okay but change a diaper while they are doing it. I also have you ladies who encourage me either on here, through email, or on my face book. I'm especially thankful for S. Paul and her sister C. Burgan who are my mommy blog cheerleaders. They really help me keep this going through encouragement. Funny though, the devils on my shoulder leave me shaken, and Satan certainly knows when to send them my way. Pray for me ladies, and I'll pray for you.
Here is my prayer: "Thank you, God, for being our defender. Thank You for encouraging us in our spirits as well as through Godly people you send our way, and sweet strangers who pass through our lives. Help us to keep in mind that no decision we make will be approved of by everyone, and that we are not here to make the world happy, but to glorify You. Help us to keep Your glory our focus in life. Help us to love our children like we should, and help us to love both the angels and the devils that perch on our shoulders. We praise You."
Monday, March 26, 2012
I like to move it, move it....
I went to Zumba today, and I loved it! I loved how it was like dancing (I like to move it, move it) and working out at the same time. I loved that I felt energetic and tired at the same time. I loved that it was just for me. However, I came home feeling really guilty about it. I had a great time, burnt some calories, and relieved some work week stress. However, I hated that I had to shuffle the kids' schedule around even more because of it, hated that it made Dean have to stay out later doing farm and yard work, and hated that it put me behind schedule with house work (not that I do too much each day). I felt so good to be exercising, and for the first time in my life, I feel like my desire to exercise is for the right reason. Why then, can't I enjoy it?
I have already admitted on here that my history with body image is pretty sketchy. I have always just looked at exercise as a way to make me skinny/skinnier. I never cared at all about the health benefits of it. However, whether it be due to having kids or just getting older, I now look at it as a way to make me healthier. Don't get me wrong though, I'm still hoping it will make me skinny (without having to give up cookies and such).
I work full time and then come home to my kids. I try to make sure I spend time with them AND do as much house work as possible so it isn't too backed up on the weekend. However, I have let other things, like exercise, go. I feel too guilty about spending that extra time away from my kids. (I mean, who needs to be healthy for those kids, right?) I've been trying to figure out how to work in exercise without being away from my kids any longer by:
1. only exercising when they are all asleep (at 9 or 10 pm or 5 am)=fail.
2. only exercising when I'm off work (one day a week doesn't do too much for me) = half-hearted fail
3. Taking them with me (complete waste of time, but I did burn a lot of calories just getting them
all there and back).=major fail
4. Doing an exercise video at home. (Having an audience of 4, even if 2 are babies, just didn't work
for me.) =self-conscious fail.
In the end, I've decided (just today actually) that I'm going to seek God about it. If my body is a temple, then it belongs to and should bring glory to God. I have prepared my heart for exercise (given my past of unhealthy body image) as something meant to keep me healthy, not make me beautiful or skinny. It doesn't do me any good to skip something like that for the sake of my children when I know that exercise will help me be healthier for more years and make me feel better in the mean time.
I can't promise that I will work out as regularly as recommended or that I'll run some marathon (or at all for that matter), but I will be actively trying to make myself healthier through exercise. Hopefully some of you other moms who tend to feel guilty about taking care of yourselves will do so also. Good luck to us all!!
I have already admitted on here that my history with body image is pretty sketchy. I have always just looked at exercise as a way to make me skinny/skinnier. I never cared at all about the health benefits of it. However, whether it be due to having kids or just getting older, I now look at it as a way to make me healthier. Don't get me wrong though, I'm still hoping it will make me skinny (without having to give up cookies and such).
I work full time and then come home to my kids. I try to make sure I spend time with them AND do as much house work as possible so it isn't too backed up on the weekend. However, I have let other things, like exercise, go. I feel too guilty about spending that extra time away from my kids. (I mean, who needs to be healthy for those kids, right?) I've been trying to figure out how to work in exercise without being away from my kids any longer by:
1. only exercising when they are all asleep (at 9 or 10 pm or 5 am)=fail.
2. only exercising when I'm off work (one day a week doesn't do too much for me) = half-hearted fail
3. Taking them with me (complete waste of time, but I did burn a lot of calories just getting them
all there and back).=major fail
4. Doing an exercise video at home. (Having an audience of 4, even if 2 are babies, just didn't work
for me.) =self-conscious fail.
In the end, I've decided (just today actually) that I'm going to seek God about it. If my body is a temple, then it belongs to and should bring glory to God. I have prepared my heart for exercise (given my past of unhealthy body image) as something meant to keep me healthy, not make me beautiful or skinny. It doesn't do me any good to skip something like that for the sake of my children when I know that exercise will help me be healthier for more years and make me feel better in the mean time.
I can't promise that I will work out as regularly as recommended or that I'll run some marathon (or at all for that matter), but I will be actively trying to make myself healthier through exercise. Hopefully some of you other moms who tend to feel guilty about taking care of yourselves will do so also. Good luck to us all!!
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
The Power of Importance
On my way to work this morning, my local radio station played a short clip of Beth Moore (whom I love!). I’m always excited when I leave early enough to hear the morning segment, and I always find it useful in my life. This morning, her point was that we sometimes hold back in our prayer lives because we are afraid the response (or lack of response) to our prayers will make us feel insignificant to God. At first I thought, “What a strange idea! How could a fear of feeling insignificant affect our prayers to God?” It makes sense though the more I think of it and on many levels in my own life…
A ministry that I am extremely passionate about right now in my life is a prom dress drive I am doing at work. I work with mostly 11th graders, but we are a small school, so I know many more kids than just those I teach. Our youngest guidance counselor recently started a clothes closet at our school, and I immediately became involved in helping her with it. I don’t know how many times several of us have brought, bought, or found clothes for a kid in need, and I can’t imagine how much of our own baby items we have given away. I don’t say this to praise the fact we do it, because it isn’t anything special, but I say it to show what a heart we have for meeting the needs of these kids. It took me a while personally to get over the fact that sometimes students would take advantage of our love or be unappreciative of items we drove over an hour to find and spend our own money on. I did, however, because eventually I understood why I wanted to do things for these kids. It is because I want to show them God’s love, and I want to see their faces in that moment when they realize that there is someone who thinks they are important. These students we help feel, some of them for the first time ever, that someone who is not a parent and who doesn’t want anything from them believes them to be of enough value that they would help them. (I don’t know about you guys, but I’m about to have a hallelujah moment myself.) Isn’t it amazing how our heavenly Father does that for us? I sit here amazed at the fact that I am just realizing my major motivation for all of my ministries. I love to see others realize that they are important to God. One of our clothes donors, who I truly think God sent, brought in a formal looking dress. It was nothing special really, just a floor length pink dress with no embellishments at all. One girl who went in for clothes asked the counselor if she could take the dress to wear to prom. A light bulb went off for the counselor who came to me with an idea. Would it be possible to find free dresses for girls who can’t afford to buy one for prom? I had a new mission, or should I say ministry. I am a girly girl. I have already admitted that I do NOT leave my house without at least minimum make up, and yes, both of my girls have painted toe nails at this very moment, even the one who can’t walk yet. I love femininity, and I love dresses!!! Therefore, I was more than a little enthusiastic about my new mission.
How then, do we begin to gather dresses? Step one: my closet. I went to two proms, was in four pageants, and have been a bridesmaid several times. I don’t ever even want to fit into a size 2 formal dress again, so I brought them all. The rack still looked pretty naked. I sent out an employee email. It helped, but still, we needed more. I then did something I rarely do outside of my family. I asked for help. I’m such a prideful person that I hate to even sell something. I honestly don’t even like to take up jewelry or make up orders because I feel like I’m begging. Somehow though, when it came to helping these girls, it didn’t matter. I begged more than once. I even begged specifically when I realized we needed dresses that were a larger size than those we had. I drive to wherever necessary to pick these dresses up, and I try my best to say thank you as many times as the conversation will allow. Why would something as trivial as prom dresses for high school girls be so important to me? Have you ever seen a bride-to-be try on a wedding dress for the first time? Have you looked at her face when the realization of the specialness of such a dress hits her? That’s why. When these girls go into our little closet and find a dress they think is beautiful and put it on, they feel important and special. If we look that way to our Heavenly Father, then I know how much His heart must burst with love for us. As humans, it is an essential need for us to feel important. We crave it, we hunt it (often in the wrong places), and we yearn for it. That, my friend, is why we look so hard for a mate in life. We want someone who makes us constantly feel important. That is why we love being mothers so much; there is little person to whom we are of the upmost importance. It sounds selfish, but it is completely true. We were made that way, I believe, so that we would search for God.
How does this tie into my chaos, you may ask? Easy. I am constantly aware of trying to make each of my children feel important. I need them to know that they are each a vital part of our family unit. I love them all equally, but they are special in such different ways. My twins are just learning to be jealous, which I believe is our first way of showing we need to feel important. Sometimes it’s comical when I come home from work, because they both want me to hold them first thing, and quite honestly, they do not want me holding the other baby at the same time. Tank, who is a mama’s boy, gets especially jealous. He will fling his little body back and cry as I hold them both, but if someone takes Tinker Belle and I can devote both arms to him, he will settle down. I can see in my past when all I have wanted was a two arm hold from God. I see when I needed that tight hug, that security that only both arms can give. I needed to be held completely, without having to hold back. I needed to feel special, important. Tinker Belle is a little different. She will let Tank have his moment, and then she will come to me. She knows that this will actually give her more time to be held. At the same time, she is happier just playing around on the floor, but the moment I leave the room, she is devastated. She can play on her own, but she needs the security of knowing I’m nearby in case she needs me. Then, there is my sweet, sweet Princess. Dean and I feel guilty so often over how her life has changed. I don’t feel guilty over her having to share us, but I do feel guilty over the fact that she doesn’t understand that we prioritize our time by need. Sometimes, she wants her needs to be met first, whether or not they are as important as the needs of the twins. Honestly, there are times when I allow her needs to be met first, even if it means a wet diaper is left on for 2 extra minutes, because I want her to understand that she is important.
I don’t know really what I was hoping to accomplish with this post. Mostly I think I just wanted to invite you into my mind, or maybe my spirit. It is amazing to me how God connects all these little parts of my life when teaching me a lesson. I mean, honestly, how else could my drive to work, my charity work, and my relationship with my children all be connected?
Maybe you’re feeling pretty important in life right now, or maybe you are feeling a little insignificant to God. Either way, here is my prayer for us: “Heavenly father, thank You for feeling that I am important. Thank You for taking the time to create me very specifically. Thank You for thinking that I’m so important that it was worth the time to count the hairs on my head. I love You so much for being so huge that I can’t even fathom Your greatness, but for making me feel special, as unimportant as I am. Help me to share Your love with others and make them feel important. Help the other ladies around me to know that I think they are so wonderful and special. Help us to know that our failures do not define us, but refine us. Help us to know that the only significance we need in life is that which we feel from You. We praise You, love You, and hope to bless Your name.”
Thursday, March 15, 2012
A word to my mother
I have no problem admitting that I have a pretty obsessive relationship with my mother. In so many ways she taught me to be who I am today. She taught tried to teach me how to be a lady, she taught me how to be a wife (by example), and she taught me how to be a mother. When I was pregnant with Princess, my mother lived about 75 miles away. Luckily, she and my dad moved back before I actually gave birth, so my entire motherhood experience has been with the help of my mother. Thank God! (I mean that literally. I truly thank God that she has been there.) Mommy is constantly making comments about how I mention her in my blog (sometimes I don't actually say who I am referring to and she knows it is her) and makes comments like "I hope this doesn't end up in your blog." So I feel I need to set the record straight. If I have ever said anything bad about my mother or made a comment that seemed negative, it was strictly a problem of translation from my mind to the written language; my mother is a female hero in my life. She is the example of perfection to me in so many ways, and at the risk of sounding weird, she is a soul mate to me. (Dean is to of course, but in a different way.) We like to use the term "kindred spirit", borrowed from Anne of Green Gables. Even if I were horribly ticked off at her at this very moment (which I'm not), I would not be able to say anything bad about her. In her, I see all the best parts of her mother, Marylynn, who will always be present in my mind, though she passed several years ago. For me, there is a generational connection between Grammy, Mommy, myself, and my girls. There's so much of a likeness that runs through all of us.
That being said, my mom is completely crazy in all the best ways. I can see the progression of craziness building within me with my age, so I try to embrace it. There are times when I feel like we are just like the women in the movie "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" because we are excitable, and of course loud because the excitedness, bossy, we squabble (usually lightheartedly), when we are mad (truly mad) we make up within five minutes, and we understand each other completely. We don't hold back anything from one another, which is why we sometimes have the whole "end up in your blog" situation. It's a perfect relationship.
I trust her with my children as much as I trust myself and Dean with them. God has blessed her with the gift of being mother to many people who have needed mothering, and she's Nana to almost every small child I know, and definitely all the small children in our church (about 40 total). In that way, we are different. Small children do NOT draw to me, and I cannot spread myself thin enough to nurture an entire church worth of people. Not yet anyway, and it's not a gift I pray or even hope for in any way. I favor my dad in the aspect of that gift (as in we don't have it). It is a gift that I love about her. I love that everyone loves her so much, and that she sincerely loves other people so much. It adds to her mystery.
Here's my prayer for my mother: "Dear God, protect my mother. Help her to be protected and blessed in her ministry. Keep her healthy. Help her in her aid to my dad and his ministry. Make me like her in all the right ways. Show her Your favor in her health, in her finances, in all ways. Let her know how important she is and how much she is loved."
That being said, my mom is completely crazy in all the best ways. I can see the progression of craziness building within me with my age, so I try to embrace it. There are times when I feel like we are just like the women in the movie "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" because we are excitable, and of course loud because the excitedness, bossy, we squabble (usually lightheartedly), when we are mad (truly mad) we make up within five minutes, and we understand each other completely. We don't hold back anything from one another, which is why we sometimes have the whole "end up in your blog" situation. It's a perfect relationship.
I trust her with my children as much as I trust myself and Dean with them. God has blessed her with the gift of being mother to many people who have needed mothering, and she's Nana to almost every small child I know, and definitely all the small children in our church (about 40 total). In that way, we are different. Small children do NOT draw to me, and I cannot spread myself thin enough to nurture an entire church worth of people. Not yet anyway, and it's not a gift I pray or even hope for in any way. I favor my dad in the aspect of that gift (as in we don't have it). It is a gift that I love about her. I love that everyone loves her so much, and that she sincerely loves other people so much. It adds to her mystery.
Here's my prayer for my mother: "Dear God, protect my mother. Help her to be protected and blessed in her ministry. Keep her healthy. Help her in her aid to my dad and his ministry. Make me like her in all the right ways. Show her Your favor in her health, in her finances, in all ways. Let her know how important she is and how much she is loved."
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Who works the hardest?
Okay, so this is one of those posts I will have to get approved by Dean (if I remember to do so before hitting post). As I try to constantly point out, I love Dean so much it hurts. I think he is the most wonderful man in the world (at a tie with my dad and brother). He is everything I ever wanted: A hard worker, a family man, a wonderful husband, a man of God, the list could go on. We get along wonderfully and love each other deeply, but we are not perfect, and I don't ever want to set us up as being so. I promised honesty, so here it goes.
If having one child changes a marriage by complicating it, adding a set of twins to the mix put our world in a blender with no top on it and turned it on high. Sometimes I feel like we spend our lives running around, just scraping up the mess. I know I've mentioned several times that life too often feels like a game of survival, and I hope it doesn't make you feel discouraged, but it's a constant battle in my life. Another inner struggle, that I hate to even admit, is the inner struggle of resentment towards my husband. Don't think me a failure; it's a mutual thought we both have that neither of us wants to say. Often, in the heat of an argument, there is an unspoken phrase screaming out in our every thought: "I do more than you do!" This often also translates into, "I sleep less than you do and am therefore more tired than you!" It took a long time, several months after the twins were born (though the thought started when Princess was born and took a break once she got older), for one of us to say the actual words. Luckily, it wasn't said in anger during an argument. Rather, in a moment of frustration, I simply said, "We are both thinking are have done more and have more of a right to be tired and frustrated right now". Dean agreed, and finally, it was out in the open. We have never kept secrets. We promised early on not to do so, and not saying this thought, but knowing he knew that I felt that way seemed like I was not being up front with him. I couldn't handle it anymore no matter how afraid I was at voicing the thought. It was also scary that I knew he felt the same way but did not want to admit it out loud either.
Once it was all out in the open, we both felt better. Parenting is hard, and being outnumbered by our children means a great deal of work. We often have to divide and conquer in order just to get simple tasks done such as paying bills, helping a sick baby make it through the night, cooking dinner, or taking a shower without interruption (for crying out loud). Is this thought Godly? No, of course not. Is it loving and kind? No. Does it recognize the work that the other spouse is putting forth? Not one bit. Is it sometimes justified? Sure, on both parts. Is it a natural thought? You be the judge.
We both agreed to try our best to not think the "I do more than you do" thought. I'd like to say that this is something we have overcome, which is why I posted about it, but that isn't true. We are both hardworking people, and in our own ways need constant acknowledgment of that fact. When we are working for the same cause, however, this creates a problem. It's hard to praise someone for working harder than you when you think you are working as hard as you possibly can. It's hard to commend someone for giving up sleep when you're sure you gave up more. Lastly, it's hard to make someone feel like a more volatile part of the cause when you're certain things could not go on without you. Life with a spouse is not always simple, but it is always worth the work. The same goes for parenting. My life is so blessed, but that doesn't mean it's easy. Walking through Wal mart with my double stroller holding two beautiful babies with my gorgeous four year old next to us gets admiring looks from people of all ages, but it is not all glamor. I work hard. All of us as mothers do. At the same time, Dean works hard as well. While he often does things differently than me, the man way, he really does work just as hard, just in a different way. I know this is a truth, but sometimes I just want to be the one who has earned a break, the one who is given all the credit for being a superhero, but I also know that Dean sometimes just wants the same.
We both actively try to give one another a break now. Having the twins made our lives more complex, but it taught us how to truly work as a team, something I don't believe we ever knew before. This is my prayer for us, and for those of you who are in a situation that helps you relate to my situation: "God, help us to love the chaos and business of our lives. Help me to love my husband as I should and give him the credit he deserves. Help me to love my work as a mother. Help me to work hard without seeking praise for doing so. I praise you for my beautiful chaos. I thank You for my wonderful three babies who are lively, expressive, and have strong lungs. I love you for all You are that I am not. Help my fellow mothers who are working hard as well. Help their partner, if they have one, and if they don't, pour out a double blessing on their lives. I praise You for touching the lives of the ladies I love and with whom I share this bond of motherhood."
If having one child changes a marriage by complicating it, adding a set of twins to the mix put our world in a blender with no top on it and turned it on high. Sometimes I feel like we spend our lives running around, just scraping up the mess. I know I've mentioned several times that life too often feels like a game of survival, and I hope it doesn't make you feel discouraged, but it's a constant battle in my life. Another inner struggle, that I hate to even admit, is the inner struggle of resentment towards my husband. Don't think me a failure; it's a mutual thought we both have that neither of us wants to say. Often, in the heat of an argument, there is an unspoken phrase screaming out in our every thought: "I do more than you do!" This often also translates into, "I sleep less than you do and am therefore more tired than you!" It took a long time, several months after the twins were born (though the thought started when Princess was born and took a break once she got older), for one of us to say the actual words. Luckily, it wasn't said in anger during an argument. Rather, in a moment of frustration, I simply said, "We are both thinking are have done more and have more of a right to be tired and frustrated right now". Dean agreed, and finally, it was out in the open. We have never kept secrets. We promised early on not to do so, and not saying this thought, but knowing he knew that I felt that way seemed like I was not being up front with him. I couldn't handle it anymore no matter how afraid I was at voicing the thought. It was also scary that I knew he felt the same way but did not want to admit it out loud either.
Once it was all out in the open, we both felt better. Parenting is hard, and being outnumbered by our children means a great deal of work. We often have to divide and conquer in order just to get simple tasks done such as paying bills, helping a sick baby make it through the night, cooking dinner, or taking a shower without interruption (for crying out loud). Is this thought Godly? No, of course not. Is it loving and kind? No. Does it recognize the work that the other spouse is putting forth? Not one bit. Is it sometimes justified? Sure, on both parts. Is it a natural thought? You be the judge.
We both agreed to try our best to not think the "I do more than you do" thought. I'd like to say that this is something we have overcome, which is why I posted about it, but that isn't true. We are both hardworking people, and in our own ways need constant acknowledgment of that fact. When we are working for the same cause, however, this creates a problem. It's hard to praise someone for working harder than you when you think you are working as hard as you possibly can. It's hard to commend someone for giving up sleep when you're sure you gave up more. Lastly, it's hard to make someone feel like a more volatile part of the cause when you're certain things could not go on without you. Life with a spouse is not always simple, but it is always worth the work. The same goes for parenting. My life is so blessed, but that doesn't mean it's easy. Walking through Wal mart with my double stroller holding two beautiful babies with my gorgeous four year old next to us gets admiring looks from people of all ages, but it is not all glamor. I work hard. All of us as mothers do. At the same time, Dean works hard as well. While he often does things differently than me, the man way, he really does work just as hard, just in a different way. I know this is a truth, but sometimes I just want to be the one who has earned a break, the one who is given all the credit for being a superhero, but I also know that Dean sometimes just wants the same.
We both actively try to give one another a break now. Having the twins made our lives more complex, but it taught us how to truly work as a team, something I don't believe we ever knew before. This is my prayer for us, and for those of you who are in a situation that helps you relate to my situation: "God, help us to love the chaos and business of our lives. Help me to love my husband as I should and give him the credit he deserves. Help me to love my work as a mother. Help me to work hard without seeking praise for doing so. I praise you for my beautiful chaos. I thank You for my wonderful three babies who are lively, expressive, and have strong lungs. I love you for all You are that I am not. Help my fellow mothers who are working hard as well. Help their partner, if they have one, and if they don't, pour out a double blessing on their lives. I praise You for touching the lives of the ladies I love and with whom I share this bond of motherhood."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)