I want to be the person my kids think I am.
Yesterday was a hard day. We're going through a lot with our oldest daughter right now, and yesterday was filled with overwhelming news. In an effort to recoup what I could from being mentally and emotionally absent for most of the day, I spent bedtime trying to snuggle every kid, pray every prayer, and sing every song. By the time I finally made it to the boys' room, one was asleep and the other wasn't far behind. I climbed into bed with the one who wasn't quite to Dreamland yet and snuggled up close. I was exhausted and I began to whisper my apologies at the back of his head.
At one point I said, "I just feel like such a failure sometimes."
He quickly whipped himself around in the bed and said emphatically, "NO! You're a Warrior!"
This caught me by surprise because, not only did I feel like a failure, but "warrior" would actually be the furthest thing from how I would describe myself.
"What??" I said. "How??"
"You fight for five kids every day and you always succeed. That makes you a Warrior Mom."
I looked at him with a smile, and choked back sweet tears because this seven-year-old child was calling something out in me that I couldn't even imagine. But it was so timely, and I believe it was a word from the Lord.
"Wow...thanks, buddy. I do try really hard to be a good mom every day..."
He stroked my hair, "You are, Mom."
It's time for Warrior Moms to rise up everywhere; out of the shadows of laundry mountains and dish piles, out of the guilt and frustration, out of brokenness. It's time for Warrior Moms to declare the promises of God over ourselves and our families. It's time to stop living in the fear of failure and start seeing ourselves as our children do. Warriors who fight for our families every day and SUCCEED.
Thursday, July 19, 2018
Sunday, January 7, 2018
perfection
when i was in fifth grade, i decided i wanted to be a teacher.
my teacher that year was brand new...new to our school, new to the profession, and even new in her cultural make-up compared to the other teachers I'd known. we did fun things stemming from her fresh-out-of-college perspective, and she loved me. i knew she did. the way her soft eyes corrected my talking lips was something i hadn't experienced the previous school year. she allowed me to soar. she trusted me. and i wanted to be just like her.
at the end of my fifth grade year, we were all given a certificate...kind of a superlative for fifth graders to call out some amazing insights about our futures. mine said, "professional educator" so basically how could i even CONSIDER any other professions? i was obviously meant to be a teacher and even my teachers knew it.
now whether it was my young age or my half-cocked decision to become a teacher that caused me to think even more deeply about my future, i'm unsure, but in that year and the two or three that followed, I began to dream about who I would become as an adult. i'd have to go to college to reach my teaching goal, but there was more to life than that...
i grew up in a large family. in eighth grade, my mom had my youngest sibling, my sister. and my mom was my hero, so to be even half the woman she was, i probably needed to have a large family, too, right? so i thought i'd have four children: two boys and two girls, to be fair and even. no one needs to be the middle child. i even named them. but it would still be a couple of years before i would start to dream about their father.
if you were raised in an evangelical youth group in the late 90s/early 00s like i was, you're familiar with the "worth the wait" movement. if you weren't, allow me to explain. it was a time when youth group leaders and sponsors decided to get involved in the teen pregnancy crisis in america and developed an entire curriculum, as well as clothing and jewelry lines, devoted to teaching teenagers that their virginity was "worth the wait" until marriage. every respectable kid in my youth group owned a "worth the wait" ring that we proudly displayed on the third finger of our left hands. i got my ring in seventh grade. i was 13. i had very little idea what it meant to "save myself" for marriage, but i HAD TO HAVE A RING. it was a conversation starter, a symbol of my snow-white purity, and it came with a card to sign, proving further my commitment to "God, my parents, and my future spouse". how holy of me, right? the movement lasted for a few years, and every year that i can remember, our church would have a special wtw service...usually in february when everyone was thinking of love. when i was 16, the wtw speaker encouraged us to make a list of the kinds of things we were looking for in a spouse, the person with whom we would build our adult lives. i took this charge very seriously. i wrote a specific list: he was to be a ministry-minded musician (more specifically a guitarist), with dark hair and eyes. he was to be about my age, tall, and love children (bc teacher! and the four-kid plan!). he was to be good with money, have a job, have a car, have a working knowledge of tools. he was to be strong and healthy and kind and smart. and, most importantly, he was to be a virgin, like me.
so basically, i had my life planned out by the time i was 16. i'd go to college, become a teacher, find God's list-perfect match for me, and have four lovely children whose names all began with d. how hard could that be?
but the list didn't work for me. it put me on a weird wild goose chase that resulted in self-doubt, and many disappointments and broken hearts before i finally realized the problem was not me; it was the list. i'm not saying it's not a good idea to think about the kind of person you want to marry, but creating this imaginary "perfect" person did not lead me to happiness or bliss. finally, towards the end of college, i slowly started crossing things off the list that really weren't that important like "guitarist", "dark hair and eyes", "tall", but i wasn't letting go of a few long-held views of perfection.
college graduation came and went, and i started teaching in the school where i grew up, the one in which i decided to become a teacher. i was very happy, but i still wondered if every guy i met could be my husband. i was pretty jaded about guys at that point, though...the list was a mirage. no one could be all that for me. so i decided i was going to have to be everything for myself. i veered from my life plan a bit. i put myself through ministry school and became a certified minister. i stopped looking at every guy as a potential husband and just lived.
not long after that, though, i met a man who tried very hard to get my attention. and while i had crossed many things off that "perfect match" list, there were a few things i couldn't seem to let go of. he was divorced...and he had a daughter. i didn't think he deserved my time. i had SAVED myself.
about six months and many prayers later, i crossed "virgin" off the list of things i was looking for and held his hand for the first time. a little more than a year passed, and we were married. i gave him my wtw ring and commitment card from 1997. i had saved myself for him, but these were no longer just symbols of my snow-white purity. they were now also symbols of God's redemptive love towards those who have failed in purity. (i should mention that my husband is the most perfect spouse for me. for everything on that list that he's not, there's another better thing that he is. he's passionate and loyal and funny and wonderful. and he loves me so much.) God showed me that my definition of perfection was not necessarily perfect.
i had the career, and i had the husband now. my step-daughter's name did not begin with d, though. i should've known then that my dream life was not entirely to be. we had a son, and then a daughter. i was starting to want another baby when the path curved again. an opportunity for adoption presented itself to us, and we took it without hesitation. we welcomed a 7-year-old girl into our family and gave her our last name. and just when i thought the curves might straighten out, i found out i was pregnant again.
so here i sit, six weeks away from my due date for our last child, a boy, who is undoubtedly an answer to our older son's prayers.
my life sometimes looks similar to what i had planned, but not entirely the same.
when i was 16, i thought i'd grow up to be the perfect wife with the perfect family in the perfect church. turns out i'm just a mediocre wife with a loud family in a pretty great church. i constantly battle that need for perfection...or at least perceived perfection. i don't want people to know that i sometimes serve cereal as an acceptable dinner option. i don't want people to know that i lose my temper and yell at the beautiful children with whom i've been entrusted. i don't want people to know i fuss at my husband about money. i don't want people to know i'm four days behind on a five-day bible reading plan or that i've spent more time on candy crush in the last week than i have on grading papers or that i have piles of laundry in the living room because it's easier for me to pick all the kids' clothes out of one pile than to go to their individual rooms and drawers. i'm a mess. a hot mess. 16-year-old me would be embarrassed.
but do you know who's not embarrassed? God. the one who made me and created everything about me actually delights in me exactly as i am. ephesians 2:10 is my favorite verse: "for we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." this proves to me that there are things that only my messy self can accomplish in this life; plans that God has for me that literally no one else in the world can do. and He knew me before i was born. He saw who i would become, and yet He assigned this life to me.
so i've decided to just be myself. and i think that will be just perfect.
my teacher that year was brand new...new to our school, new to the profession, and even new in her cultural make-up compared to the other teachers I'd known. we did fun things stemming from her fresh-out-of-college perspective, and she loved me. i knew she did. the way her soft eyes corrected my talking lips was something i hadn't experienced the previous school year. she allowed me to soar. she trusted me. and i wanted to be just like her.
at the end of my fifth grade year, we were all given a certificate...kind of a superlative for fifth graders to call out some amazing insights about our futures. mine said, "professional educator" so basically how could i even CONSIDER any other professions? i was obviously meant to be a teacher and even my teachers knew it.
now whether it was my young age or my half-cocked decision to become a teacher that caused me to think even more deeply about my future, i'm unsure, but in that year and the two or three that followed, I began to dream about who I would become as an adult. i'd have to go to college to reach my teaching goal, but there was more to life than that...
i grew up in a large family. in eighth grade, my mom had my youngest sibling, my sister. and my mom was my hero, so to be even half the woman she was, i probably needed to have a large family, too, right? so i thought i'd have four children: two boys and two girls, to be fair and even. no one needs to be the middle child. i even named them. but it would still be a couple of years before i would start to dream about their father.
if you were raised in an evangelical youth group in the late 90s/early 00s like i was, you're familiar with the "worth the wait" movement. if you weren't, allow me to explain. it was a time when youth group leaders and sponsors decided to get involved in the teen pregnancy crisis in america and developed an entire curriculum, as well as clothing and jewelry lines, devoted to teaching teenagers that their virginity was "worth the wait" until marriage. every respectable kid in my youth group owned a "worth the wait" ring that we proudly displayed on the third finger of our left hands. i got my ring in seventh grade. i was 13. i had very little idea what it meant to "save myself" for marriage, but i HAD TO HAVE A RING. it was a conversation starter, a symbol of my snow-white purity, and it came with a card to sign, proving further my commitment to "God, my parents, and my future spouse". how holy of me, right? the movement lasted for a few years, and every year that i can remember, our church would have a special wtw service...usually in february when everyone was thinking of love. when i was 16, the wtw speaker encouraged us to make a list of the kinds of things we were looking for in a spouse, the person with whom we would build our adult lives. i took this charge very seriously. i wrote a specific list: he was to be a ministry-minded musician (more specifically a guitarist), with dark hair and eyes. he was to be about my age, tall, and love children (bc teacher! and the four-kid plan!). he was to be good with money, have a job, have a car, have a working knowledge of tools. he was to be strong and healthy and kind and smart. and, most importantly, he was to be a virgin, like me.
so basically, i had my life planned out by the time i was 16. i'd go to college, become a teacher, find God's list-perfect match for me, and have four lovely children whose names all began with d. how hard could that be?
but the list didn't work for me. it put me on a weird wild goose chase that resulted in self-doubt, and many disappointments and broken hearts before i finally realized the problem was not me; it was the list. i'm not saying it's not a good idea to think about the kind of person you want to marry, but creating this imaginary "perfect" person did not lead me to happiness or bliss. finally, towards the end of college, i slowly started crossing things off the list that really weren't that important like "guitarist", "dark hair and eyes", "tall", but i wasn't letting go of a few long-held views of perfection.
college graduation came and went, and i started teaching in the school where i grew up, the one in which i decided to become a teacher. i was very happy, but i still wondered if every guy i met could be my husband. i was pretty jaded about guys at that point, though...the list was a mirage. no one could be all that for me. so i decided i was going to have to be everything for myself. i veered from my life plan a bit. i put myself through ministry school and became a certified minister. i stopped looking at every guy as a potential husband and just lived.
not long after that, though, i met a man who tried very hard to get my attention. and while i had crossed many things off that "perfect match" list, there were a few things i couldn't seem to let go of. he was divorced...and he had a daughter. i didn't think he deserved my time. i had SAVED myself.
about six months and many prayers later, i crossed "virgin" off the list of things i was looking for and held his hand for the first time. a little more than a year passed, and we were married. i gave him my wtw ring and commitment card from 1997. i had saved myself for him, but these were no longer just symbols of my snow-white purity. they were now also symbols of God's redemptive love towards those who have failed in purity. (i should mention that my husband is the most perfect spouse for me. for everything on that list that he's not, there's another better thing that he is. he's passionate and loyal and funny and wonderful. and he loves me so much.) God showed me that my definition of perfection was not necessarily perfect.
i had the career, and i had the husband now. my step-daughter's name did not begin with d, though. i should've known then that my dream life was not entirely to be. we had a son, and then a daughter. i was starting to want another baby when the path curved again. an opportunity for adoption presented itself to us, and we took it without hesitation. we welcomed a 7-year-old girl into our family and gave her our last name. and just when i thought the curves might straighten out, i found out i was pregnant again.
so here i sit, six weeks away from my due date for our last child, a boy, who is undoubtedly an answer to our older son's prayers.
my life sometimes looks similar to what i had planned, but not entirely the same.
when i was 16, i thought i'd grow up to be the perfect wife with the perfect family in the perfect church. turns out i'm just a mediocre wife with a loud family in a pretty great church. i constantly battle that need for perfection...or at least perceived perfection. i don't want people to know that i sometimes serve cereal as an acceptable dinner option. i don't want people to know that i lose my temper and yell at the beautiful children with whom i've been entrusted. i don't want people to know i fuss at my husband about money. i don't want people to know i'm four days behind on a five-day bible reading plan or that i've spent more time on candy crush in the last week than i have on grading papers or that i have piles of laundry in the living room because it's easier for me to pick all the kids' clothes out of one pile than to go to their individual rooms and drawers. i'm a mess. a hot mess. 16-year-old me would be embarrassed.
but do you know who's not embarrassed? God. the one who made me and created everything about me actually delights in me exactly as i am. ephesians 2:10 is my favorite verse: "for we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." this proves to me that there are things that only my messy self can accomplish in this life; plans that God has for me that literally no one else in the world can do. and He knew me before i was born. He saw who i would become, and yet He assigned this life to me.
so i've decided to just be myself. and i think that will be just perfect.
Friday, January 5, 2018
My Body: An Amazing Thing
As I stand at Week 34 of what will be my final pregnancy, I am amazed and awe-stricken about what my body has done and can do. This baby boy growing inside it now is the third to be housed in my womb.
Who taught my body to grow children?
On its own, my body nurtures and supplies for the growing child. It knows how to expand and grow to fit the baby, and from experience, it knows how to return to its previous state. Perhaps with a bit of extra skin, and a few tell-tale markers, but there will be a return.
And I am so thankful. I have abused this body, cursed it for what it isn’t, despised it. But in all honesty, it is a most incredible and powerful thing. It has gained and lost, it has hurt and healed, it has carried me to amazing places and spent beautiful afternoons at rest. It has run and skipped and swung and danced. It has served me so well. On it, you will find memories that I will always carry. One of a bicycle wreck across the top of my right foot, one of a tooth through my bottom lip, a couple of intentional memories forged in ink, marks across my legs and stomach to remind me of the beautiful lives that grew inside. This body. This strong, incredible body. It will take me the rest of the way. It will carry me into my last days. And I love it.
Who taught my body to grow children?
On its own, my body nurtures and supplies for the growing child. It knows how to expand and grow to fit the baby, and from experience, it knows how to return to its previous state. Perhaps with a bit of extra skin, and a few tell-tale markers, but there will be a return.
And I am so thankful. I have abused this body, cursed it for what it isn’t, despised it. But in all honesty, it is a most incredible and powerful thing. It has gained and lost, it has hurt and healed, it has carried me to amazing places and spent beautiful afternoons at rest. It has run and skipped and swung and danced. It has served me so well. On it, you will find memories that I will always carry. One of a bicycle wreck across the top of my right foot, one of a tooth through my bottom lip, a couple of intentional memories forged in ink, marks across my legs and stomach to remind me of the beautiful lives that grew inside. This body. This strong, incredible body. It will take me the rest of the way. It will carry me into my last days. And I love it.
Tuesday, June 20, 2017
365 Days
It has been 365 days since I've seen my Mema or heard her voice.
I knew this day was coming. That's how time works. Days just pass and heap up into a big pile before you know it. Up until this day, I could still say, "Even a year ago, I had no idea she would be gone." And it's true. I never had any doubt that she was coming out of that hospital. She went there to get better, not to die. But that's what happened.
I'm not angry, but God and I have had some pretty heated discussions this year. I've just had a lot of questions. And while I haven't received all the answers, one thing has become very clear to me. God is not upset by my questions. In fact, I feel like He's welcomed them because they cause me to have a deep need for time with Him. God is not threatened by your questions either.
A few nights ago, I had a dream. In it, I was in my kitchen, getting ice water for some people outside. I saw someone out of the corner of my eye, walking through the dining room. I looked up and it was her. It was Mema! I was so excited. "You're here!" I said. "What are you doing here?" I was jumping up and down. She said, "Well, I come to see you, Sis." I told her I missed her so much. She said, "I just wanted to tell ya that I know how much you love me. I know you bring the kids to see me sometimes (In the dream, I understood this to mean when we visit the cemetery). I just want ya to know, I'm alright." I said, "I know you're alright, Mema. I just miss you so much. Can you stay?" She said, "I cain't stay very long, Sis." I told her I was just getting water for those people if she could just stay a few more minutes, but then I woke up.
I don't know if people can really visit you in your dreams or if my brain was working overtime, thinking about the coming week, but I know it brought me a lot of comfort. I've known all along that she's alright, but somehow hearing it from her made all the difference.
So, today, though there have been some tears, I'm choosing to remember the best and funniest things about her. I'm looking at photos. I'm having lots of sweets because she loved them. I'm drinking Dr. Pepper. But I'm not asking any questions because I know she's alright.
I knew this day was coming. That's how time works. Days just pass and heap up into a big pile before you know it. Up until this day, I could still say, "Even a year ago, I had no idea she would be gone." And it's true. I never had any doubt that she was coming out of that hospital. She went there to get better, not to die. But that's what happened.
I'm not angry, but God and I have had some pretty heated discussions this year. I've just had a lot of questions. And while I haven't received all the answers, one thing has become very clear to me. God is not upset by my questions. In fact, I feel like He's welcomed them because they cause me to have a deep need for time with Him. God is not threatened by your questions either.
A few nights ago, I had a dream. In it, I was in my kitchen, getting ice water for some people outside. I saw someone out of the corner of my eye, walking through the dining room. I looked up and it was her. It was Mema! I was so excited. "You're here!" I said. "What are you doing here?" I was jumping up and down. She said, "Well, I come to see you, Sis." I told her I missed her so much. She said, "I just wanted to tell ya that I know how much you love me. I know you bring the kids to see me sometimes (In the dream, I understood this to mean when we visit the cemetery). I just want ya to know, I'm alright." I said, "I know you're alright, Mema. I just miss you so much. Can you stay?" She said, "I cain't stay very long, Sis." I told her I was just getting water for those people if she could just stay a few more minutes, but then I woke up.
I don't know if people can really visit you in your dreams or if my brain was working overtime, thinking about the coming week, but I know it brought me a lot of comfort. I've known all along that she's alright, but somehow hearing it from her made all the difference.
So, today, though there have been some tears, I'm choosing to remember the best and funniest things about her. I'm looking at photos. I'm having lots of sweets because she loved them. I'm drinking Dr. Pepper. But I'm not asking any questions because I know she's alright.
Monday, March 27, 2017
Every March 22nd From Now On
I missed your birthday.
I guess I thought if I didn't acknowledge it, it wouldn't come.
But it did. It came and you weren't here to celebrate.
I'm sorry I couldn't call or stop by to sing a sloppy version of the birthday song with my crew. I'm sorry there was no cake from Ann's, shared by all the people you love most. I'm sorry I couldn't bring myself to drive by the cemetery, even days later. But most of all, I'm sorry I miss you so much because Heaven must be beautiful and it's completely unfair for me to want you here.
Still, I do.
I miss you every day, but especially on every March 22nd from now on.
I guess I thought if I didn't acknowledge it, it wouldn't come.
But it did. It came and you weren't here to celebrate.
I'm sorry I couldn't call or stop by to sing a sloppy version of the birthday song with my crew. I'm sorry there was no cake from Ann's, shared by all the people you love most. I'm sorry I couldn't bring myself to drive by the cemetery, even days later. But most of all, I'm sorry I miss you so much because Heaven must be beautiful and it's completely unfair for me to want you here.
Still, I do.
I miss you every day, but especially on every March 22nd from now on.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Day 21
Today is the final day of my fast. I spent the majority of the day traveling to a funeral. Funerals make me so reflective, and even though I didn't really know the man, I was so touched by the service. People stood and told stories, there was a photo slide show, and all the family was around. I could tell he was very well loved and thought of highly. In a funny way, it reminded me that perfection is unnecessary. When your life is over, people don't talk about how badly you kept up with the laundry or how cluttered your car was. They pick the best, most wonderful parts of you, and to those they hang on. I get down on myself for the silliest things. :( It's time to realize that perfection is overrated.
-R
Friday, January 24, 2014
Days 19 and 20
In my bible reading, I started the book of Esther yesterday. Esther is one if my very favorite books of the bible. Not only is there a heroine, but also justice is served and there's a very happy ending for the good guys. Today, I was reading about how Haman was so puffed up and how he hated the Jews. He was so sure of himself that he had a sharpened pole erected in his own front yard to have Mordachai impaled upon! Even when his family and friends warned him that no good would come to someone who tried to harm God's people, he refused to back down, and it ultimately lead to his demise. God's people will go forward and flourish no matter who or what tries to stand in the way. We can be sure that God's got our backs. That's actually really cool.
Today, I received another money surprise! Thank you, Jesus!!
Tomorrow, my husband and I are traveling to Clinton, OK. His best friend's dad passed away this week. A great man has gone to be with Jesus! Pray for safe travels. Love you all!
-R
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)