Love Does, the 100th day of school, and a grumpy Momma heart

Sweet Boys,

I think my favorite 100th day of school will forever be this year's.  Usually I plan some big epic celebration for our 100th day, but this year you guys wanted to plan it.

I think it all started with this book called Love Does for Kids, by Bob Goff that we were reading.  Dad read it first (the adult version), and then I read it, and then we read it together as a family.  Bob takes simple things and makes them big.  He takes everyday life and finds ways to show people that they are loved.  Like the time he sent flowers to the lady who hit his Jeep, or the time he dropped popsicles out of his airplane to the kids who were tired from the hike.  When I asked you if you wanted to help plan the 100th day of school you guys instantly said yes, and said you wanted to see if we could do 100 acts of kindness in a day.  And so you began planning.

First we would leave quarters in the 25 cent machines around town.
Then we would give goody bags to our local firefighters and policemen.
We would drop off balloons for our local pediatric floor, and some for the kids that visit our very own pediatrician.
We would buy a few things for our sweet baby girl that lives a few miles away.
Dad would pay tolls for the people behind him as he drove all over the state.
We would find a way to tell our favorite cashier at the grocery store we loved her.

It was going to be a glorious day.

Finally the 100th day came bringing along a snowstorm, and head colds.  So we waited.  On the 113th day of school I woke up grumpy.  My heart was not full of joy, our Happy one wasn't very happy, and you big ones were on the edge so I decided that it was now or never and we were going to change our attitudes by trying to hit our goal of 100 acts of kindness.  We went to the store and things got worse for me.  In all of your excitement for the day you were having trouble remembering your manners.  Even so things just seemed to keep getting worse for me, we brought 28 balloons out of the store as the wind blew hard tangling 28 strings together.  But you guys didn't care, because all you could think about was how excited some sick kids were going to react when they were surprised by these balloons.  As I drove you happily chatted and kept your fingers busy as they untangled all the the balloon strings.  I called the pediatric ward to make sure it would be alright for us to bring balloons up.  They said it was fine, only for us to find out as we stood in the entryway that kids under 12 (all of you) weren't allowed into the hospital because it was flu season.  In fact they almost sent us away!  But you didn't care, after standing there for 20 minutes while they tried to find somebody to get the balloons, all you could think about was the joy these kids were about to get.

When we finally pulled back into the driveway at 7:30 that night, my heart had softened.  All of us were laughing, and even though nobody gave to you that day all of our love tanks were full.  I was reminded again that sometimes the best thing to do for ourselves is to take time to love somebody else.

Then came Day number 114.  We actually didn't have enough time to drop off all of the goods the day before leaving us with a few stops the next morning.  I'm glad we ran out of time because on the next day we got to see the police museum, the Duck of Justice, and you had a tour of the Main St. Fire department given by the assistant fire chief himself, and you got to see some of the smiles on the kids faces as the nurses from our own pediatricians office gave the balloons out (because we just happened to have an appointment there ourselves).  None of this we had planned, hoped for or even thought about.  It was an amazing way to end our most Epic 100th day of school.

Boys, I hope that when you look back on your childhood that you remember that Mom and Dad did our best to love people.  My biggest goal for you as you grow into men is that you love Jesus first and that you love others second.  Thank you for teaching me as you grow.  Thank you for these amazing two days of wild adventurous fun.

A friend of Jesus says to "Pursue love..."

It's a family effort

As a foster family, life looks a little different from most.  We still have our boys scouts and fun activities, but on top of the normal stuff we have a lot of appointments for our foster loves.  Almost a year into this adventure we've gotten pretty good at it.  The ladies at the library know us well as it's one of our favorite places to spend time waiting.  We almost always have a book we're reading together in the car because sometimes, especially when it's snowing we sit in parking lots and wait.  We spend plenty of time in parks and finding fun new places to get cheap treats.  We're really good at blitzing through stores to get our errands done.  Sometimes, like today, I let them bring their tablets and after we spend sometime reading out loud in the waiting room I let them play while I work.  In waiting rooms I often find myself correcting papers, working on scouts, doing our budget or going over math facts with the boys.

Today as I watched them play together with a game they have made up and perfected each week as we sit I was reminded again that foster care isn't something I do it's something we all do, a family effort.  I spent a few minutes looking through my calendar from the last six months.  One month we had 42 appointments, none of which were for them and didn't include scouts or school.  It was a very busy time and we won't be doing that again.  However they were champs and when they talk about this past winter they don't even consider all the waiting rooms they sat in.  This summer there is a very real chance that four days a week our one love will have appointments.  Which means we won't be able to just kick it for some crazy adventuring as we normally do, but we'll spend most days here at home with a swing set and garden hose.  Even so they love what we do.  They love helping other children.  They ask often when we'll say yes to another.

I'm proud of these boys and the love they give out.  People often tell me I'm a saint or that they could never do what I do, but really my kids work harder then I do.  I don't have to share my toys or my parents with strangers.  When it comes time to say goodbye to our loves I understand pain and grief but my boys are living and learning it right along with me.  They are becoming good men, who have big hearts.  If ever you meet some foster siblings feel free to encourage them on.  Without them being on board some of us foster parents wouldn't be doing what we do.

Dear Foster Mom,

You and I, we've talked this week.  Every day.  Some days one or both of us cried.  I want you to know that I see you.  You and all the hearts you care for are constantly on my mind.  I know I'm on yours as well.  We see each other.  When one of us notices that the other is on FB at stupid o'clock in the morning so we text each other and it turns out both babies are trembling and can't be still without some snuggles... When we pass each other in the local mental institution each with one of our foster loves and just nod our heads in greeting knowing that your heart is breaking as much as mine.... When we run into each other in court and ask how things are going?  We ask how are you doing emotionally, are you ready to say goodbye?...When the kids have become so apart of the family your arms feel empty while they are at appointments without you.  You find yourself wondering when they'll wake up from nap, even checking on them in bed before you remember it's just not your day with them... When our hearts are breaking so we call each other and sob into the phone our love and pain for these children and their families.... You my dear friend have a beautiful heart.  You are doing the work of a hero.

You and I we are living life full and deep and raw.  The world is watching.  Often they don't understand, and we feel judged.  I've found often it's not judgement they are passing, but it's awe and wonder that they don't have words for.  So we should let them see our pain and our love.  Let them see the crazy we live and fight for.  Let them see Jesus.  Whether you know it or not you are walking the Gospel and Dying with Christ.  Let them see us heave guttural sobs when we say goodbye for the last time.  Let them see our joy when when it seems there shouldn't be any.  Let them see us lean deep into His unconditional love.  Let them wonder how we do what we do.  Let them see that love has no fear.  Let them ask questions.  Let them help us.  Let them live life with us.

Sweet Momma friend, life is hard right now, but here is why we do what we do:  "Keep on loving... Don't forget to show hospitality to strangers... Be satisfied with what you have... Offer sacrifices of praise...Don't forget to do good... Share with those in need... These are the sacrifices that please God... May he produce in you, through the power of Jesus Christ, every good thing that is pleasing to him.  All glory to him forever and ever!" (snippets from a friend of Jesus in Hebrews 13)

Keep on keeping on, dear one.

Risk

Dearest boys,

Let's talk about risk.  I knew death with the loss of my baby sister.  I knew it to happen and I know the pain even though I was young, but the moment you become a Momma the magnitude of life's risks change.  A whole new filter comes into play.

That day I remember it clearly, I was dressed in overalls and a white and pink striped polo shirt.  Strong man and I worked together so it was normal for me to be near him as he sat at his desk on the phone.  I stood next him with my belly bulging with new life as he hung up the phone, his face ashen white, his voice in shock as he told me they lost the baby.  Her baby was a few weeks smaller then mine.  Together, each alone in our own homes, we sobbed.  We cried for her loss and my gift and why it was that way.  That is the day I learned the risk I was taking as a Momma, the risk to be a Momma.

Since then I've learned what I can and cannot control of the risks that come through life.  It doesn't matter if it's big or small there is always risk involved.  That time you were swinging high just like you, Man of the woods, had a done a thousand times before but this time breaking your arm or when you, Laughter, just fell off the bed and broke your collarbone.  Or that time the dentist didn't get the cavity completely removed before filling the tooth and now we wait to find out if you'll need a root canal.  Or when you were learning to ride bikes with all those scrapped up knees.  Or foster care...

Let's talk about taking in orphans, strangers who know things no human should ever know.  Man of the woods suggested this task and after months of contemplating we agreed.  What better way to learn selfless love, and now I know the risk we put you at.  Now you know some of those horrid things too.  You have seen drugs, the effects, and what withdrawal looks like.  You heard the words of suicide and self harm, and you've seen the trauma as we ushered you up to your room quickly to keep you from the blood, but you've seen the bandages and touched the scars.  You have worried deeply for the safety of our foster-loves, and you have prayed hard.  You've begun learning that to love deeply brings great risk.  My heart wonders if I did right by you to bring trauma into your lives like this.  I wonder if the risk was too great.  I worry about your hearts and how I can protect them.  I wonder if I haven't protected you from the world.

But then I listen to you talk, I listen to you pray, I watch you look for the needy in crowds and on streets and in stores.  I watch you move into action when you find the helpless.  I watch you have compassion on the hurting.  I watch your hearts grow deep and steadfast in what you know to be true as you practice repeatedly what is right.  I have learned that even when another is hurting deep you love hard.  Where some fear you are confident you have power to help.

I am proud of you.  I am learning daily that I can't protect you from risk, that only in tiny portions can I control the risk life hands us.  That's the key I guess is that from the moment your heart beat for the first time you were apart of a world full of risk, what better way to learn about life's risk then in the arms of your parents.  There are some risks I will never take again, and others I will.  Always I will fight for your hearts, I will fight for your childhood, and I will fight for the men you will one day be.

I love you sweet boys.

Momma

If only I can be like Hannah

There he was the third child I would take from the hospital.  The sweet boy was dressed in doll clothes that were way to big, using his voice for one of the first times.  The lack of rest didn't seem to bother me as I rocked this gift child to sleep over the weeks to come, changing countless diapers and as I watched as the big ones look over him in ways only brothers could.  It didn't take long to find our rhythm, my heart beat is his resting place.  Weeks passed by bringing at first smiles that quickly passed into giggles, then rolling over with glee.  He loves my voice and searches for me whenever he hears it, being soothed by it as only a mother can soothe her child.  He babbles now, playing with blocks and sitting up big and tall.  Eight months since we laid eyes on each other.  Eight months we've been mother and son...Except we're not.  He's not mine, he belongs to somebody else.  I'm just the fill in until he can be reunited with his own flesh and blood.

My heart hurts. I know it's what I signed up for.  I know it. This is the hardest work I have done.

I can't imagine anything more beautiful then a Momma being reunited with her son.  I can't imagine how her heart hurts and longs for him.  She is often on my mind as I pray her soul would find peace during this hard time.  However my heart doesn't know he wasn't birthed to me.

I wonder about Hannah of the Bible.  I know women that have prayed like her for a child, I have prayed like her for a child, but I don't know many Momma's that would give that gift baby back.  Yet I signed up to do just that.  I had no idea what I was signing up for.  Now eight months into fully, whole heatedly, unconditionally loving this boy my heart is learning what it means to be like Hannah.  For now I pray that when the day comes for me to hand this gift child back that I can be like Hannah and worship the Lord.

My heart exults in the LORD; My horn is exalted in the LORD, my mouth speaks boldly against my enemies, because I rejoice in Your salvation.  There is no one holy like the LORD, indeed, there is no one beside You, nor is there any rock like our God.

~ Hannah, mother of Samuel the prophet of God

Learning to be Momma to this one

I had been officially licensed for one month when I walked into the hospital room with an empty car seat.  I had no idea what I would find.  I had talked with his placement worker the night before over a fuzzy connection as I stood in the middle of the woods at Cub Scout camp.  We talked for maybe ten minutes.  She answered any question she could, but the truth is she didn't know too much.  Even so I said I'd pick him up the next morning, just after a pit stop at home for a shower.

I stopped just in front of his room.  The door was open just a crack with the lights off on the other side.  I looked up and down the hallway expecting somebody to greet me, but there was nobody around.  Taking a deep breath I slowly pushed open his door and walked through.  He was to my right swaddled and sleeping.  He was the tiniest baby I had ever met.  To my left was his health board saying he needed to be left in his crib to sleep leaving me to sit in the rocking chair quietly beside him.  After a few minutes but what felt like hours a curly haired, smiling nurse introduced herself and told me I could pick him up.  It was six hours of learning how to care for him before she sent us home.

The blanket he came home from the hospital with.

Three weeks later I found myself in the same hospital with two big boys and very sick baby boy.  He had been throwing up for the last 24 hours.  The weight he had lost proved my instincts were right, nothing was staying down.  After an X-ray and a ultrasound it was agreed that the hospital would be our home for the next few days.  Strong man picked up the big ones and I made up my bed on a cot.  The waiting, worrying, and fighting of a Momma began.

Trying to read a book while I waited to meet with the doctors.

The waiting...
... Test still being done at 11 pm Friday night.
... Pacing our room while I waited for them to come back from putting his IV in.
... For morning to come while I held him each time he vomited so I could talk with the doctors.

More tests

The worrying...
... As his throwing up became so scheduled and regular I could catch it saving him a change of clothes.
... As the surgeon never came to see us simply looking over his charts, making choices I disagreed with.
... Sitting in the waiting room while he was finally in surgery.

Going to surgery

The fighting...
... With doctors to move his surgery up a few days.

My boys were birthed to me whatever comes our way is all part of parenthood.  This boy is different.  This time I went to classes and made my house ready for inspections.  For this boy I got a phone call asking if I was willing to take him as my own for a few months.  I chose him and everything that comes with him.  It may only be for a time that I get to be his Momma because he could go home with a single phone call, but after this weekend I have no doubt that there is no end to the depths of love I have for this guy.

We love, because He first loved us.

~ John, friend of Jesus

Love unconditional

Dear Baby K,

Man of the woods birthed me into motherhood every day for the last nine years.  Laughter has taught me to live life with an open hand.  You are teaching me to love like I've never known love before.

Seven days ago at about this time I was laying eyes on you for the first time.  You lay asleep even if it wasn't peaceful you slept just the same.  I sat in the dark room learning as much as I could about you, realizing that no matter how many people I talked to I still wouldn't know you like I did my older two, but I was determined to do my best.  You came home and quietly slept while I checked on you often.  It didn't take long for me to learn that if you fell asleep while drinking your bottle you needed to burp.  Or that you would always choose cuddles over eating so I sometimes needed to hold you in my lap facing me if I wanted you to eat.  I quickly learned that you sleep through most everything as long as you feel snug in a swaddle.  I know you prefer a bassinet to a crib.  You don't seem to need to rock like my other boys did.  You are you're own person.  You and I we're getting to know each other.  Last night when I came home from work you were happy to see me.  You have taken my heart.

I don't have words to articulate the love I feel towards you.  I know that someday in the months to come you and I will part ways.  On that day my soul will ache and my tears will flow for you.  For now I wake with you every few hours and tell you it's all going to be alright when you cry because of a gas bubble.  I change every dirty diaper with a happy heart because it's what you need, it's what a Momma does and it's what love is.  This love you are teaching me is an example of God's love for man kind.  The way he created a perfect world, loving us enough to give us free will, the ability to reject Him.  It's a beautiful thing, a precious gift actually.  He knew we would walk away and still He loved us.  You won't be rejecting me, but you will be leaving me.  Yet I am compelled to love you with all of myself knowing that my heart will soon break.

I'm thankful for the way you are reshaping me into a better person.  My hope for you is that no matter what you will always know you are loved.  Thank you for teaching me to love with my whole self sweet boy.

Eight years together.

That day you asked and I said yes, it seems like a life time ago.  Seemed then like we would be old eight years from that moment.  You're mom screamed when she saw the ring, my mom lead me around the house by the hand showing off that sparkly rock.  We dreamed.

We dreamed that in five years we would be expecting our first.  We dreamed that we would be neck deep in church work.  We dreamed that we would have two sons and a daughter.  We dreamed of raising those three kids in our cute, itsy-bitsy house.  Mostly we dreamed of life together.

Nothing has gone according to those dreams.  We were expecting baby number one just nine short months after we were married.  We sold our house before the arrival of baby number two.  We never made it to having three children and we only have boys.  That line of work we dreamed of is taking on a whole new life of its own.  Mostly nothing in life has followed those dreams of ours.

If you ask me these past 8 years has blown those dreams out of the water.

Every April he returns a better man.

Strong man an extrovert is energized by people, but every now and again his soul becomes agitated and restless, just like a child becomes after being securely buckled in the back seat during the nine hours of traveling.  We're learning his signs, and this is when he needs to retreat, from work, friends, and even the boys and I.  This is when he needs to retreat to be with his Maker.

If you ask him the woods are his sanctuary, under the canopy of trees with sounds of life playing softly in the back ground and his Bible laying open in his lap, in these times he hears God most clearly.  It's there that God taught him how to see the small things as gifts. It's there in the quiet of the mountains that he knew I was the one he should marry.  When he returns to me I never know what to expect other then it will be life changing only knowing God will breathe life into his soul.  The woods have become his chapel.

Now if you ask me where it is that God speaks most clearly to him I would also tell you deep in the forest, but I would add that Atlanta is the other place where it is easy for him to hear God.  For the past three years he has spent a week each April attending the Orange conference.  While he is being taught and worshiping with thousands of like minded souls it's in many ways the same as the forest, a place where he steps out of his life letting go of distractions allowing himself to listen a little bit more.

While he is away the boys and I usually spend the week in my grandparents guest bedrooms.  During the day we fill our love tanks up with friends and family.  At night we retreat to the quietness and safety grandparents bring.  After I kiss little boy foreheads good night I curl up on the couch making the announcement that I too will be going to bed as soon as my glass of water is finished.  But that's when my heart begins to find rest because they take my hand and share there journey with me.  We wonder together what God is going to do with my Strong man and our family.  They show me my accomplishments when I speak mostly of my struggles.  Sometimes life is like that the struggles are too big for me to see the accomplishments.

And so when Strong man comes home a different, a better man, I am eager to take his hand as he turns the corner.

This year as Strong man is away I find myself at home, working, mothering, and continuing on with our daily life.  After we said our goodbyes I was slightly worried that maybe I wouldn't be ready to take his hand when he got back this time. The introvert in me feared the idea that I was to parent alone and to work almost everyday he was gone, and to take a day trip down to my parents, and to do all the chores at home, I was scared.  This year I don't have my Nana's cooking and clean house where I can simply sit back and rest only needing to love on my boys.  I don't have my grandfather in the back ground watching me mother and hearing my heart all week long when just before bed that last night he grabs my hand to tell me that I am doing well.  But most of all I worried I would forget to wonder where God was taking my husband this week and where he would be leading me next week.

Too often I forget who God really is.  I have spent hours each night contemplating, talking, and just being in the presence of my Maker.  I have had just enough strength to get through each day.  I have slept well, even though my bed is empty.  Most of all I have wondered where we will go from here.  And so when Strong man comes home a different, a better man, I am once again eager to take his hand as he turns another corner.

That my soul may sing praise to You and not be silent.  O LORD my God, I will give thanks to You forever.

~ Psalm 30:12



Gifts...

~ Before bed time family Bible reading with my boys, a place where we all breath deep and relax.

~ Hearing the tick-tock of the clock.

~ Sleeping boys.

~ Crackling fires.

~ Wonder

~ A God who knows me most of all.

~ A husband willing to hear his Master's voice.

~ A husband who is willing to follow his Teacher's instructions.

Here's what I love:

~ My boy learning to become a man.


~ Spring time lunches.
~ Hidden treasures that only little boys can leave behind, & gifts only Mommas can give to her boys, such as an evening spent in there underwear.


 The dragon lair of stinky clothes.

~ Fires on blustery spring days.
~ Little boy toes.

~ Songs of love to Jesus.
~ My strong man who shares my heart even though we pursue it differently, the perfect team.




~ Seeing faith in a tangible way.
~ Siting alone with a notepad, Bible, crayons, and coffee for hours at a local coffee shop.
~ Seeing deeper still, every bit of life is a miracle, a gift of Grace.

It's almost midnight, but I can't sleep.

There are hot coals and a small flame shining through the stove glass. As I sit looking out the window I see no moon but can see the snow covered trees. Pure and holy, full of Grace that snow, a reminder of how endless Jesus' love for me is. While these moments are serene and beautiful, that is not why I am awake.

Today a family of three came into the store. I worked hard to keep there glasses full, the table clean. I always initiated the conversation trying to show them I wasn't just working, but honestly cared for them. Never a smile, never a "how are you?" in return. And yet as they left I began clearing the table. Waiting in a small pile were three dollar bills, a bit of change, not even 10% of the bill but as I do every time I clean a table I thank God for the tip. However this time I also added in a, "I'm glad I had this table and my coworker didn't." Underneath the meager tip was a piece of paper entitled "Lost or Saved" with a cross on the front. As I piled it in with the rest of my trash I thought to myself, "Words, empty words is what they just gave me. Where was the love? The joy at least? Without love the words are simply trash or worse another weight on the receivers already too heavy burden."

Shortly there after two preteens, their mother and her parents were seated in my section. Just before they ate as I was taking an order at the other end of the dining room I heard grandpa say, "It's time to pray." Never did a cup run dry or a need go unmet as they enjoyed lunch. The bill was over $40 dollars, the tip was again less then 10%. As I set the table again my heart hurt because both families lived up to the reputation Christians have given servers.

A fellow server, obviously gay, served food in the middle of prayer once. Immediately after he walked into the wait station with, "Wow, I interrupted that family's prayer. They were probably praying for me anyway. I guess I just gave them more reason to."

Or another server asked once what we did with the tracks people gave us. She stores hers in a box afraid that a hell might really exist and thinks throwing them away might put her one step closer to it. She also wonders who they are to judge her when they don't even know her. "What if I believed in God just like they do?" she said as she tucked the hard, cold words into her coat pocket.

It hurts that Christian after Christian show my coworkers that there understanding of Christians being stingy, smug, arrogant, and unforgiving is actually spot on truth.

There is no question in any of my coworkers minds that I am a lover of Jesus. I know for some of them to put me in the Christian category takes work, and I'm not sure they can even do it. Honestly when the word Christian comes up everything about me changes, a 50 ton rock lands in my gut, my skin twitches, and my shoulders sag.

A few times we've had straight up belief conversations. Those usually start with "aliens or no aliens," the conversation evolves into "creation or evolution," with some ideas that actually we came from mythological creatures thrown in. Belief talks are fun talks not talks of the heart. Talks of the heart is my reaction to daily life that makes them wonder what's different about me. Things I never even remember sharing with them will come back up weeks later in question format, "you do this, right?" a test to make sure I wasn't just spouting off some hogwash like those who pray a bit too loudly.

Today was a big step in our relationships. It all started with an awful night. The restaurant was full, maybe three tables were empty in the whole place. I was serving 11 tables at once. Turns out quite a few tables stiffed me. Just after the rush my shift manager decided that he wanted to leave no later then 15 minutes after close and insisted that I begin my closing chores rather then doing the normal dining room clean up. Please note close was 2 1/2 hours away. Then he began asking me every five minutes what I had left to do, for two hours he did this. Needless to say, much to my shame, the closer we got to close the more my attitude stank. In short I was a butt. I was still fuming at 1 in the morning. But as I dressed for work this morning I decided I had to do the right thing and apologize. So I did. At the hut word spreads like a wild fire, so those who didn't work knew and some even asked me about it. With those who asked details I emphasized that it didn't matter if I was justified in my anger I was still a butt. I was wrong.

I am no better then those Christians that leave tracks, but don't bother to ask how your day is going. I am no better then those who make sure at least half the restaurant know they are about to pray and then leave an awful tip. The good Lord knows I've done both. I am just as sinful as they are, but I live life honestly. My love is flawed, but my love is honest. Isn't that what Jesus wants? Honest love.

Before you pat me on the shoulder with sad eyes nodding your head at how horrible it is that other Christians do this, please, I beg you, think about the last time you were leaving a tip at a restaurant, the hairdressers, any interaction with a stranger, whatever, what did you do to show love? I can be blunt and ask this hard question because I have been that Christian before. My aha moment happened as I walked the streets of Budapest. A crippled homeless man sat on the corner with a cup reaching out for charity. I walked past. Stopped. Turned around put a track in his cup told him to have a good day and carried on. Instantly I was guilty. I did the deed but had no love, turning life changing words into proof that Jesus wasn't worth his time. That has forever changed me.

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"I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians.  Your Christians are so unlike you Christ."

~ Mahatma Gandhi

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If I speak with the tongues of man and of angels, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or clanging cymbal.

~ 1 Corinthians 13:1

The sweetest gifts of love on February 14th.

It was a comical night at work.  My head felt foggy or maybe like the buzz when you passed your alcohol limit by one.  A place I do not like to be.  Anyway, the customers were kind and actually nobody noticed my flaws.  My coworkers were sympathetic probably because they were inadvertently helping with my comical night--ie. starting the coffee without putting the grounds basket in place, causing only about 1/3 of the water to be caught by the pot itself while the other two thirds ran off the counter onto the lower shelves.  Actually all but one coworker was sympathetic, I'm good for her pride she says when I have these kinds of days.  And these are days not instances, it is impossible for me to make one mistake without making another.  But you know I'm always happy to see others smile...I owe my manager and coworkers cookies, for sure...It was a good night for all of us.  I was still chuckling as I walked through the front door to find this:

Strong man no where in sight.

My first card written by my oldest.  Beautiful.  Five years of his love flashed through my mind as I realized these cards were numbered before his heart finds another causing me to charish it that much more.

And then I moved on...

The love of a husband is indescribable.  While relishing the moment I inspected my handmade paper flower.  I began wondering where my husband was and for the first time noticed the ipad sitting there with a big button that said play staring up at me.  I couldn't imagine what else he could possibly do to show his love, but pushed it anyway, finding that he had recorded a song he wrote years ago for his brother, but knowing how much I love the song and wanted him to record it I realized my heart could still melt more for that man as I finished opening his gift of love by listening.

In the middle of the recording he rushed in saying, "No, that's not the right one.  What happened?"  Him feeling like a total failure with me in complete bewilderment.  Quickly correcting his mistake he grabbed the guitar and began a song I had not heard before.  A song he wrote of us...

To my one and only.

Dearest Lover,

I sat many times wanting to write words affirming my love to you. I wanted to post it just as I was going to work so as the house quieted after the boys were tucked in bed you would notice. About a week ago I found a quote perfect for my love letter. But the more I tried the more it seems the quote is enough....

I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink, but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death.

Thomas Paine.

You are that man Mr. Paine speaks of. Thank you.

Happy birthday to me!...Again, EFA 3.3

Ah yes, I am deeply in love with Epic Family Adventures!  This week was in celebration of my birthday since I worked on the actual day.  It was a very impromptu celebrate by the seat of our pants kind of day.  I loved it.

 Today started with the boys letting me sleep in.  I'm usually the last out of bed as I'm the last to sleep each night, but this morning I crawled out of bed just before 10 (I didn't even know I my body would let me sleep that late anymore.)  I broke my two week fast of  life with out coffee and listened to my boys laugh as they watched a favorite TV show of theirs.  From there they took me out for lunch to a place where only the birthday girl was allowed to kiss the moose and covered me in loving words with many hugs in between bites.

I was given the option of making a cake with my youngest or buying one.  I have never bought a cake before but we decided that maybe we could at least take a look.  After the boys picked out a three teared black and white wedding cake they were quickly redirected to something much smaller.  They found this:



Me:  I'm not sure you should cluster 29 candles....
Strong man:  It'll save time lighting them.

After the cake was decided on Laughter who loves to get me flowers said that was what he wanted to give me for my birthday, so he picked out "orange" (peach actually) and announced that he wanted flowers just like these ones on his birthday.

Man of the woods said he didn't really have anything in mind until we walked by my favorite candy to which he beamed with excitement at the thought of gifting it to me.

Strong man sent me shopping at Etsy for a necklace I have been eyeing for months.
 

Check out her shop:  magpiedesignz.com Instead of names mine will say "joy, grace, thanksgiving".

Along with gifts that express each of those boys love for me I was showered with hugs, snuggles, and I love yous all day long. 

Umm, yeah, is it safe for me to try and blow out that fire?

Yes, between the two celebrations this is a favorite on my list of birthday memories.  It may even be the best one yet.  I am sure without a doubt that I am adored by my three men and those are the best days.

~ Hugs from Man of the woods during lunch.
~ How flowers make Laughter think of me, always.
~ Man of the woods not wanting to get me just anything, but something he knew I'd love; Charleston chews mini.
~ A necklace to remind me of the God whose love I'll never see the end of and my purpose in life; to give thanks.
~ My three men.
~ Movie night.
~ Yummy cake with blue frosting.
~ To be debt free.

Boy, you are my son.

Man of the woods,

Just last week as Daddy was leaving for work you began screaming that your underwear was too tight, that is the clean pair we asked you to put on.  You know the one that came from the same package as the dirty one you had just taken off.  The package we bought six weeks ago so there is no chance those undies freakishly shrunk.  Yep those ones.  You screamed.  It didn't matter what we said or if we punished you (because we tried both) only you could stop the tantrum. 

Your father and I were in the next room over, I couldn't help but smile and say, "You know I did this exact same thing.  Only mine were over socks.  Why do you think I write X's on my socks?  I label them so each pair can feel the same on both feet.  You know, rather then getting an older sock matched up with a newer sock.  I screamed like this when I was his age too.  Only he can decide when and how to stop."

Child, you are mine. 

I asked God for this, for you.  I asked for a boy who would think just like me.  I was scared out of my mind to think that I would be entrusted with you.  It felt safe to ask for a son I could understand.  Even though God granted me this request the fear has not left.  I am still afraid maybe even more so because I understand that mind of yours so well. 

Each day I mature a bit more just like you.  Each day I am faced with the reality that because you and I are so much a like you are going to make some of the bad choices I made and suffer from the same weaknesses.  So I do the only thing I know to do I talk to our Maker, the one who knows you and I better then we know ourselves.  I pray for you in this way: 

 

I pray that God will give you more wisdom then He gave me. 
I pray that somehow He will show us how to deal with the little frustrations that at times control us. They don't have to and it's wrong for us to allow them to. 
I pray that He will bring somebody into your life for you to connect with, like He did for me with each growing season.  I pray that this person will say the same things your father and I have said but that from them you'll get it the first time.  I don't have to be the one to see the pieces fit together, although after watching you learn how to hold a pencil or write the letter A it's a pretty amazing thing to watch, but I don't have to be the one.  I simply want you to get it, to grow, to be more. 
I pray you will choose to use your gifts to the fullest and never take advantage of them. 
I pleadingly pray that this darkness that has invaded my mind will pass over you.
I pray that you may be a faster learner then this Momma of yours and may I find the best ways to love and shape you. 
Most of all may we both use that detailed focus of ours to glorify the Maker.  If we figure out how to do that then you and I will make it just fine through this crazy journey. 

I love you my sweet boy.

Momma

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb.  Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!  Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.  You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.  You saw me before I was born.  Every day of my life was recorded in your book.  Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.

~ Psalm 139:13-16 (NLT)

I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours in thwarted.

~Job 42:2 (NASB)

2669.  A God who says yes to my fear of raising a boy like me to teach me that only He can replace my fear.
2670.  A son I can sympathize with and understand.
2671.  The sparkle his eyes get and the way his lips turn up just ever so slightly when he gets a new concept such as correctly holding his pencil or writing the letter A.
2672.  That I was given the privilege of being his mother.
2673.  A breakfast of Pop-tarts just the two of us.

Little wonders of God.

In this little corner of my world so often I am raw about my pain, but sometimes I need to step outside the pain and the hard seasons of life here allowing myself to see the wonders of God.



Margrit Island, budapest Hungary

As I remembered the "big" wonders of God in my last post, today I will remember the "little" wonders of God.

Margrit Island, Budapest Hungary

2646.  Smell of freshly made bread the last touch to making this new house my home.
2647.  Silhouette of my husband laying next to me in the dark.
2648.  Beautiful reds & yellows hanging off the trees complete with the smell of cut wood drifting thought the crisp air.
2649.  Broken friendships restored.
2650. Sipping hot coffee wrapped in a blanket on the deck watching 5 boys play while chatting of life.



Toalmas Hungary

2651. Sister friend to bring normalcy to my life.
2652. Sound of the chainsaw & the clunk of the ax.
2653. My hands stacking wood so comfortably. It's been too long.
2654. Two little boy helpers.
2655. A toy wheelbarrow just big enough for one split piece of wood at a time.
2656. Grandma J's prayers for me an mine for the last 10 years.

Toalmas Hungary

 

2657. Friends who will pray even if that all I say.
2658. Good men stopping by just to encourage my husband.
2659. Unexpected man time leaving me to go to the local craft store buying many of my Christmas gifts.
2660. A warm fire to come home too.
2661. Being reminded of Grace, Joy, Thanksgiving.

God of wonders.

At times I need to sit with a cup of tea and remember the wonders of God.  Will you curl up with me on this fall day in front of the fire place to remember with me. 

Oh and grab yourself a cup of tea the water is hot.

I remember the time:

~ He healed my eyes from blindness.  To this day the problem is a mystery, but there are pictures and many doctors proving there really was a problem.  In fact I had no idea there even was something wrong until my eye doctor became concerned.  God healed my broken eyes without any explanation.

~ I spent three months in Hungary with no money what so ever.  I prayed each day as I put my pants on, being able to see the light through them, that God would hold my pants together just a little longer because I was unable to buy knew ones.  He provide not only pants but also paid bills, and allowed me to buy the basic of needs during that time.

~ I learned that my son's milk allergy would required a special formula costing us $300 dollars a month.  God provided for one month with two checks of over payment one from our delivery doctor and another from our car insurance which was a direct withdrawal.  Other times he provide with others who felt they should buy a case for us.

~ Just like any other bill, showing that I am in fact an adult, each month I plug away at paying off the expenses of delivering our second son.  One day as I opened what I thought to be my monthly bill from the hospital my mouth dropped as I read that the $1300 I still owed was taken care of and I no longer needed to pay the remaining sum...Nothing I had prayed for just a reminder that God is the God of wonders.

~ For eight years we've had a burden to bring people into our home to live with us.  One day out of the blue we received a phone call offering us a house for a time with the condition that we let anybody who needed a place to stay to come into our home.

And you?  What wonders has the God of the heavens and the earth done for you?

Isn't it refreshing to remember?  We should do this more often.  Come whenever you please and we will sit to remember.

I shall remember the deeds of the LORD; surely I will remember Your wonders of old.

~ Psalm 77:11

My husband, my filter.

Strong man wraps his arms tightly around me.  My heart relaxes as I stretch my toes to touch his.  We lie together looking into the dark.  Safety, those arms bring so much safety and contentment too.  The ending to a good day.  That's when he asks about it; Shanbrosia, what's happened?

I sigh a deep sigh unsure what to say.  This mind wills it's fingers to write, but nothing comes, for days, weeks and even months. Surface thoughts are all these stiff fingers can punch out. The American smile is showing through I'm sure. The American smile?  The cursed smile that hides the heart and soul.  When writing it's all I can manage.  Where is my heart? Things are moving, changing even. I'm being stretched and grown; reshaped really. God is good, He is always good.  Still the American smile?  With the smile plastered on what is the point?

I tell him maybe it's time for that season to be over.

It troubles me that you stopped writing, he says.

He's troubled?  I run over our entire marriage to find a context.  No he's never told me he's troubled before, not in these words, not with this tone.  He wants me to write more.  He doesn't want me to stop?  So much confidence in such a broken women.  Really, doesn't he know me?  Doesn't he know his wife struggles?  I know he does, better then most.  What if I say something that will effect his reputation?  What if I hurt those I love?

He holds me tight our toes still touching.  I can feel his heart beating.  My heart is in his safety as he tells me again, keep writing.  I love it as it is.  Nobody can reach perfection.  I love you as you are.  Keep writing.

Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me and know my anxious thoughts; and see if there be any hurtful way in me, and lead me in the everlasting way.

~ Psalms 139:23-24

#'s ?
- A husband who to hold me.
- A husband to push me past my insecurities.
- A husband to be my anchor.
- A husband to help me filter.

Char you are...

You are there hero, the one they dream to be some day.

An example I'm grateful they admire. A man of God.

Thank you, this is one of the many reasons I love you.

SHMILY...