Grateful #5- Grey

Today, I'm thankful for my little boy. It's amazing how, just when you think your heart couldn't get any fuller, God unfolds a part that you didn't know was even there.

When I was pregnant with Story, I somehow "knew" her. I felt like I understood her personality, even when she was inside me. When she arrived, she was just what I expected- only now I could see her and hold her.

It wasn't like that with Grey. I don't really know why. I kept saying to Andy throughout the pregnancy that I didn't really know Grey yet. I didn't know what to expect when he got here. And the first few days of his life were so challenging for me because of the anxiety I experienced immediately after his birth that I did not feel the immediate connection with him that I had with Story.

But today, I am grateful for the way each sigh, coo, smile and cry tethers my heart to him. I'm grateful for the sweetness that oozes out of my new little person. I'm grateful that when I smell the top of his head, it smells like me- a smell I'm not even consciously aware of, but, when I nuzzle him up to my nose, assures me that he is irrefutably mine.

Every day, I tell Grey, "You are important." I want him to know that even though he was my second ray of sunshine, his light was no less bright.

I love you, Andrew Grey. And I am grateful for you.

Grateful #4- Brokenness Welcome Here

Today, I'm thankful for this Facebook post from a former student of mine.

Mark 2:17: “I have not come for the righteous, but for the sinners!”
Jesus didn’t come for the perfect. He came for those who are broken, weary, and burdened. His church is not a gathering place only for those who have it all together, but also a sanctuary for those who need refuge and renewed strength. I’ve struggled with my brokenness for as long as I can remember, because I’ve been broken for as long as I can remember. I went through a period where I gave up on Jesus and Christianity because I didn’t think it was for me. I was too far gone, too lost, and I felt I could never be “good enough” to step inside a church, or talk to the God who created this beautiful earth. I didn’t think I was worth His love, healing, or grace. I wanted desperately to share His love with the world, but I refused to accept it for myself. I was too broken. But that’s not what the Bible says. That’s not what Jesus is about. He came for the broken. He came for the sinner. He came with the message that no one was ever too far gone. He opens His arms wide and says “Your brokenness is welcome here.” He make beautiful things out of broken things❤️ 

You don't have to look too far to find brokenness. For me, all I have to do is check the news on my phone, consider some of my "relationships" with people or search my own heart. Brokenness is thriving. 

It's no wonder why. Jesus warned that we have a real enemy who is sowing seeds in the world that bring forth a harvest of brokenness. That enemy is here to "steal, kill and destroy." We also have our own humanity to consider- whose default mode is to glorify and serve itself instead of worship a Perfect Creator and love the people and things He created.

So we live each day with broken hearts, the jagged edges of which, shred the people we are supposed to love. 

So today I am thankful for this post, which encouraged me that Jesus has an answer to all this brokenness. He's standing at the door of our broken hearts, knocking. And I am so grateful for this sweet girl who has opened the door and invited Him in. I'm challenged to do the same. Sweet friend, let's let the healing begin. 

Grateful #3- "Mommy, wait!"

Story suffers from an affliction common to 2 1/2 year olds, especially those with new little brothers or sisters. She's got a pretty serious case of "mommy-itis." She doesn't like to be separated from me, especially for something that's off-routine. She can get to preschool, BSF and church nursery without too much trouble, but if I try to step out the door for a yoga class in the evening, or even walk into another part of the house to take care of a task, she cries out, "Mommy, wait!" and then moves her little toddler body as fast as she can to catch up with me.

Baby girl, I understand. I feel the same way. I like to be with my Mommy too. And that's my gratitude for today- I'm grateful to get to be with my Mom.

Today, my Mom and I are going to the Holly Day Fair. It's a tradition we've had since I was in high school. She went yesterday with her friend Ann (they have that tradition too- they always go during the stroller-free hours... lucky devils) She sent me pictures of the good stuff and I am so excited to join in the fun today. But it's not really because of the stuff. It's because it's our tradition- me and my Mom. It's the start of our holiday season. It's a celebration of the good cheer that is coming- and I'm so grateful to get to start that celebration together with her. 

My best friend lost her Nana this fall. It's been hard. It's reminded me that our beloved ones are not here forever. God gives and takes away, and I don't know that we can ever be prepared for the taking part. So today, I'm here, resting in this moment where I can say, "Mommy, wait!" And she will wait. She has always waited. And I am so thankful for it.

Grateful #2- ALL

Today I'm grateful that the gospel of Jesus Christ is for ALL people.

There are no qualifiers to the gospel, no exclusion policies, no background checks. The gospel isn't an institution that you have to apply for and hope to get into. It isn't for people who look or act or vote a certain way.

The gospel is for moral people and reckless people.
The gospel is for light-skinned people and dark-skinned people.
The gospel is for gay people and straight people.
The gospel is for rich people and poor people.
The gospel is for Republicans and Democrats.
The gospel is for ignorant people and educated people.
The gospel is for mean people and kind people.
The gospel is for Americans and for the NATIONS.
The gospel is for ALL people.

This righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ to ALL who believe. Romans 3:22

Grateful #1- Mommin'

Today, I'm grateful for getting to stay home with my babies. Grateful that I woke up to feed Grey at 5:30, and was able to go back and lay in the bed another hour without the stress of the workday crushing my chest. Grateful that I showered, put on a favorite pair of green lounge pants and a grey wool sweater, brushed through my wet hair and was at that point "dressed" for the day.

When I went back to work after having Story a friend encouraged me by saying that when she went back to work it helped her to be really intentional about parenting in the time she had with her children. I get that. I feel the same way. It's easy to get distracted by lesser things when you feel like you have the whole day ahead of you. Sometimes choosing to nurture is hard when you feel like you can just do it later.

Another friend warned me, before I ever had children, that the hardest part about staying home is that it's a 24/7 gig. And that's true too. There are days when it's 9PM and I've been spit-up on all day and someone has cried at least every half hour, and the laundry pile seems to have spread like some sort of Dreft-scented fungus, even though I've spent ten consecutive hours trying to contain it.

But today, I'm super grateful that I get to be home with my littles. That I get to walk Story into preschool and stay until she washes her hands and settles in to play. That I get to give Grey some serious snuggles this afternoon (he was a little neglected yesterday as I scrambled to get the house cleaned up for our little Halloween shindig). That we will spend a sunny afternoon in our yard, looking for some fun.

Work will come again, and there's merit in schedules, routines and a hard day's labor out in the world. But today, I'm grateful to have the time and space and lack of external pressure so that I can just "be" with these little people. I can take them in, in all their sweetness and dirtiness and crankiness, and taste how sweet it is to be their mother.

Collisions

A couple of days ago, I sat on the sofa in my den. The yellow light of a mid-October afternoon streamed through the window, illuminating particles of dust suspended in the air. They swirled up and down, each movement surprisingly graceful. In a day or two they’d meet a lemon-scented end when I attacked that room with a dust rag and a bottle of Pledge, but for the moment, they were almost beautiful.

I took a deep breath in, and then exhaled, like I was trying to blow a candle out. I expected to see the tiny dust-dancers immediately respond to my breath, scurrying this way and that in a frenzied retreat. But I was surprised and a little delighted when it took a second for the response I was looking for to occur. I pondered the collision of particles that I had just witnessed. I breathed out again and waited, as molecules bumped into one another in the stretch of space between my mouth and the light-soaked rectangle in front of the family room window. And when that microscopic domino effect reached the tiny dancers, they jumped and scurried again, and I smiled.

But then I stopped smiling. Because what I was watching reminded me of something more serious but no less predictable. Words, when released into the world, have a similar effect. Once uttered, they travel across any distance, any time, colliding into insecurities, past wounds and the lies the Enemy weaves into the fabric of the universe and have tremendous effect. Over the weekend, I had a conversation with someone about this very thing. Words spoken decades ago continue to echo in this person’s mind, and their thoughts still dance a twisted dance, in frenzied response to the put-down uttered in another time, another place.

I wonder if someone had been on the other side of the room that sunny afternoon and had breathed at the very moment that I had, if their breath would have countered mine, and the collisions would have been off-set by the opposing force?

I pray that when God speaks His truth into the universe- through His Word, through His people- that collisions of grace and kindness off-set the damage created when selfish, unkind words collide crippling the hearts and minds of His people.

Still my heart, let Your voice be all I hear hear now. Fix my eyes on the things I cannot see now. Spirit, breath like the wind… come have Your way. -Hillsong United

Into Abba's Arms

A few weeks ago, Story and I had a really bad day. May is a tough time to be a high school teacher. My students had spring fever, but I felt the constant pressure of needing to prepare them for their exams. We were in the midst of the busy (but fun!) arrangements for my brother's wedding, and I was getting increasingly uncomfortable in my six-months pregnant body.

One afternoon, I brought Story home and needed to get inside to make dinner. There is no harder time in my day than the hour or so before Andy gets home, when I am dead on my feet, and need to cook. This wasn't fun before Story, but now, I have the added challenge of a whining toddler who weaves in and out of my legs and intermittently falls onto the floor in tears of frustration because I won't stop what I'm doing to play with her. I've heard that this pre-dinner time is called the "witching hour" by some moms. I'd agree- I just don't know which one of us is the witch

So this bad day, Story and I had been playing outside, but I knew I needed to get in and start dinner. Since she wasn't obeying my commands (shocker), I picked her up to take her inside when I felt a sharp pain on my ample belly- she bit me!!! And it HURT! I got inside, in physical pain, but I was in worse shape mentally and emotionally. She'd been threatening at biting for weeks. But this was the first time she'd really gotten a chunk of me. My exhaustion, emotion and frustration collided. I gave her a spanking, sat her on a chair at the kitchen table and left her there, howling, as I went upstairs to change out of my work clothes. I needed space between me and her. I paced around my room, trying to calm down.

After a few minutes, I went back to the kitchen. She sat in the same spot I'd left her, red-faced, with steady tears coming down her face. Usually, when Story is crying, whether she's hurt or is in trouble, my heart breaks the minute the first tear falls and I pick her up and comfort her. But not this day. I'd had it. Had it with the whining, the demanding, the biting. Had it with the exhaustion and the dreaded hour of the witch. There was no nurturing touch in my hand as I yanked her up and put her in her high chair and placed some sort of leftovers in front of her.

Time passed, and Andy still wasn't home, so I got myself a plate and sat down at the table, not really making eye contact with Story, who had stopped crying and was occupied with pushing food from one side of the high chair tray to the other. But after she finished eating, I asked her to do something she refused to do, and this time, she swung her hand at me. She does this all the time. I think all toddlers do this when they are feeling frustrated. I usually calmly catch her hand, squeeze it and firmly say no. At most, I give the little hand a tiny pop that elicits some equally undramatic tears and then we move on. But this time I was enraged. First she bites me.  Then, while I'm still angry- she HITS me! I gave her the second firm spanking of the day, and left her standing in the kitchen howling while I cleared dinner plates.

Right about this time, Andy got home to his angry wife and screaming kid. I blurted out what had happened while he tried unsuccessfully to console Story. She ran into our den, still howling, and began to pace back and forth in there like a caged animal. Andy again tried to pick her up and comfort her- she really was a wreck. But she couldn't go to him. She was disoriented and devastated.

Maybe that was the moment I stopped being a witch. I went into the den and knelt down, arms open. Immediately, Story flung herself into them. her heavy head found my shoulder and she breathed ragged, tearful breaths into my neck.

A few days later, God used this moment to teach me something. Story created that situation for herself. She was defiant, mean, and hurtful. She made bad choices that led to consequences that left her confused and with hurt feelings. But in the midst of those consequences, her only desire was to be reconciled to the person who had exercised discipline in her life. That's why she wouldn't go to Andy for comfort. She could hardly even factor in that he was in the room with her. Things weren't right between her and Momma. And the world was upside down.

God showed me that I need to be like Story. No matter what has happened. Even when I am the maker of my own mess, I need to realize that my Heavenly Father's arms are always outstretched, and I need to run into them. Because, even though He is the one who exercises discipline in my life, He is the one that I need.

This year has been tough in many ways- our move, new jobs, new house and demanding routine. In the midst of that, we had to make some tough decisions about personal relationships that cast a shadow of loss over our little family. Tough, tight places like these are where God likes to do His disciplining work, but my first response isn't always pliancy of heart. I like to try to work my way out of those types of tough spots- with reasoning, distraction, or the sweat of my brow. When really, I'm similar to my toddler - my world is upside down. And I need the open arms that never stop loving me more than I need anything else.

I ran back into God's arms after this really tough day with Story. I could feel God start working in and through me again in ways that have renewed my soul so that I cross the "finish line" of this school year today, not somehow, but triumphantly (as my BSF teaching leader always said).

God of grace, thank you, thank you, for never leaving me. When I am in pain because of the circumstances of life, the decisions of others or even when I am in the midst of the consequences I earned for myself, You are there. Thank you for holding me and letting me breath my own ragged, exhausted, sin-soaked breaths into your neck. Thank you for cleansing me, making me new, and giving me new strength to do what you call me to do each day. I love you, Abba.