start with me

this is not a "new year's resolution" post. let's just get that out of the way now. i'm not really into those. mostly because i don't ever stick to any of them (like most of you, i'm guessing), and i really hate not doing something that i say i'm going to do. so i just don't make them. but i am working on some things, or rather, God is. again.

 my heart needs constant re-breaking, re-shaping... i'm so thankful for a God who keeps at it, who sticks with me, who fulfills His promises. He's been at it for a while, now, working through some friends and family to help us love each other better, parent better, and get really honest about the state of our hearts. particularly for me, it's uncovered some ugliness i'd rather not really admit to. i've spent a lot of time asking the Lord to make me aware of the state of my heart, to show me where i'm not honoring Him and to give me the strength to deal with what needs to be different. twice in the last week, as He often does, He has placed some specific songs in my ears to help drive home some of the finer points.

the first came earlier in the week. i was thinking about how being a stay-at-home mom is such a blessing. how hopefully my son will be better in the long-term because of the time we spend together now. of how much i enjoy being at home with him. how good it is for my soul. and i've always been somewhat staggered at how great of a responsibility that entails. i'm responsible for his behavior, his emotional health, his safety, and most importantly, teaching him about our Jesus. it's a lot that sometimes overwhelms me. and then i heard "start with me" by meredith andrews, and the chorus says: my life is an empty cup. fill it up! fill it up! i wanna hear every rescued heart cry "You're enough! You're enough!" break what needs breaking until You're all we see. and start with me. start with me. and the Holy Spirit began speaking to me...staying at home isn't just about making and molding brooks. it's about making and molding me. teaching me to give Him my entire day, the good moments and the mundane. showing me how to trust when i don't have the answers. honoring Him with my time, my effots. praising Him for all the little blessings that come each day. i can't impact my child's life for Christ if my own heart isn't completely surrendered to Him...

and so my prayer began to "start with me", Lord. i even wrote it on my chalkboard. and then yesterday, during worship, i heard myself singing "my heart will sing no other name...Jesus, Jesus". and again the Holy Spirit pricked my heart, saying "well? does it?" i had to stop for a moment, because the truth is that my heart sings a lot of things. it sings of my husband and son a lot of the time. sometimes my friends and other family. it sings of my church. but a lot of the time it just sings of me. a flat, selfish, out-of-tune note that i try to make sound ok... when my heart was created to sing only of Jesus. everything i do at home, at church, anywhere, should sing of Jesus. as a mother, as a wife, as a friend, a daughter... my call is to be broken before the Lord and to set my own strong will aside for the will and plan of Christ.

i don't have any easy answers to making this happen, but i pray that my house, my family, my heart will glorify the Father, that we will be a picture of His grace, His love, and the miraculous change that only He can bring about. start with me, God. tune my heart to sing Your praise. bind this far-wandering heart to You. break what needs breaking until You are all that i see. and start with me.

wisten!

i don't know how people who work full-time and still function as mothers do it. i don't know how people with more than one little person do it. i don't know how single parents do it. i have it easy...and i can barely do it!

i'm amazed at how "busy" i am...with nowhere i have to be, nothing i have to do...still, i am busy. my little one wakes up and asks "where are we going today, mommy?", and i cringe a little bit inside. granted, we're doing fun things, important things. things like going to see grandparents and great-grandparents. helping at church. visiting friends. going to the playground. and don't forget about the occasional not-fun grocery shopping, doctor's appointments, etc. seriously...how do other people do all of this?

i'm not complaining. i'm just saying that it's tricky to be a parent. there's a lot to juggle. some days i get into bed and i think, "yes! i did ok today!". and other days i pray, "Lord, may today not have caused too much permanent damage..." I think everybody does the best they can do, and sometimes that's good enough, and sometimes it isn't.

but it takes a village. like, for real.  a village.

my village is my husband and family, my friends, my church family and MOPs group... i don't know what i would do without any of them. from babysitting duties to advice, from an ear to vent to and arms to hug...they do it all. recently, we started our third attempt at potty training our 2 1/2 year old (he will be 3 in december). the first two attempts were, shall we say...terrible. they involved a lot of pee on my floor, a lot of frustration on my part, and a whole bunch of words in my head that i can't say here. with brooks showing multiple signs of "being ready", i did the only thing i had left: i asked for help. it's not that i don't like asking for help...truly...i just was raised to try to do it myself first. and sometimes, that's painful. this time, my sister-in-law graciously gave me all the wisdom of having done this three times already (with a fourth soon-to-come). she kindly showed me that i was doing the opposite of what worked for her (although i was doing what "all the books" told me to do), and encouraged me to give this new way a try.

i won't lie and say it was easy. but it sure as heck was easier and exponentially more successful than my previous attempts. we are on day three today of no diapers (can i get a "whoop whoop!!"), and there have been some ups and downs, and a little more pee in the floor, but nothing like previously. i'm amazed at how much of this process was simply a learning process for ME! getting to know my child better, watching for his cues and signals, and definitely embracing and changing things about my own reactions and expectations. i joked on instagram that it should be called patience training instead of potty training, but in all reality, that's what it's been for me. i am not, by nature, a patient person. and this whole journey of parenthood...that's a huge part of what it's about. learning to be patient. learning to be present. learning to be less busy. while my boy sat on the potty, i got to watch him turn his hands into airplanes, listen to him make up silly songs, and we've had a lot of time to just sit and read and talk. i've had hours (no exaggeration) to stare at his long, beautiful eyelashes, wipe his tears, and cheer him on as he says "wisten (listen) mommy! pee-pee! wisten!" we've had large amounts of sugar, been through a lot of laundry and wet wipes, and i can't believe how much differently i feel about him, about parenting, and about our time together as compared to three days ago. many times over the last few days, i have wished for help, for chocolate, for wine...but there's something to be said for going through a battle together. just he and i. well...he and i and aunt tida's genius advice...

we did it, little sugarbear. we made it. we'll keep learning together, i know. be patient with me, as i am learning to be with myself. you are my gift, my miracle. and thank God you're at least halfway potty trained.

a sad tale

i'm getting old. seriously.

allow me to present my case.

in the last two days i have done/said/thought multiple things that i feel typically reside w/ the elderly population. it started yesterday with a not-at-all graceful fall. and by fall, i mean that i ended up in the splits. i haven't done the splits in 23 years. and now i have a purple kneecap and a sore toe. i may have broken a hip.

start watching for good deals on wheelchairs for me on craigslist...

today i remarked that a teenager's dress was "way too short". i did love her shoes, but then remembered that i had chosen comfortable, sensible footwear for the day. i actually tried on a cuter pair with my outfit. and then consciously chose the ones that wouldn't cause me to limp at the end of the day.

get my tapioca pudding ready...

i was hungry for dinner at 4:30pm. this never happens. unless you're old, of course. which i am. i ate casseroles at a baptist church at 4:30pm. i got home at 7 and wanted to go to bed. but i have heartburn, so instead i watched a piano concert on PBS. and i liked it.

someone buy me a life-alert bracelet...

what is happening to me?! i've always been a little older in spirit than other people my age...i say i'm an "old soul". i love antiques. i read books printed on paper. i send snail mail. i own "vintage" clothing. i shop at goodwill.

so there you have it, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. i completely skipped middle age. 35 is the new elderly.

new things

so we know that our kid loves dirt. he's all boy, for sure. dirt, trucks, cars, trains, construction vehicles, and more dirt. he is most happy playing with some combination of those things. but it's fun watching these interests evolve, watching him learn, hearing him speak more articulately about them, discovering new things.

today was beautiful, so out we went. the box of dirt is a favorite hang-out, and i obliged him once more. i can't resist those big brown eyes. but today, we discovered some new fun...dandelions and worms! 

dandelions and dirt were eaten...he survived. he laughed. he said dirt is "yucky" (thankfully..). the dandelions in his mouth were especially hilarious. he was not a fan but was totally fascinated. and then we found the worm.... after the dirt and dandelions, my first instinct was to say "don't eat it!". he obeyed, fortunately, and then we got to talk about it being an animal, why God made worms (because they help the garden? right?), how we have to be gentle with them. then i found myself offering to pick it up for him (what?! that unconditional love kicked in, i suppose. i just wanted to see him smile!). he held it in his hand for a few seconds and then quickly shook it off. we watched it wriggle for a little bit, covered it back up with dirt, and started digging for more.

it was such a fun little snippet of time. watching his amazement. his wonder. i will do anything to make him happy. even pick up worms.

reminders

i'm making dinner, looking out our kitchen window. i see our raised beds that i'm hoping will be full of vegetables later this year. one already has shoots showing of snap peas, lettuce, and spinach. the other is full of dirt, waiting for me to plant some seeds.

my little one has been in that raised bed today, the one that's full of cow manure and dirt. i see his blue bucket with the yellow snap-on handle. his faded red spade. the red, yellow-handled shovel. the yellow dump truck with the big wheels. the evidence of the fun he had today is all over my floors. hard little brown clumps of pure joy, shaken out in bits and pieces from his shoes, his pants.

as i look at the toys, i smile. as i sweep, i breathe a thousand thank-you's. i hear glass break in his little "kitchen", a little jar he was using to make me "coffee" now in pieces; i sweep some more. ann voskamp speaks of voicing even the smallest of joys. dirt on a floor that says my child experienced gladness today. laundry piled up that tells of one more day i got to spend with my family. dishes that need to be done, proof that we are fed and are not hungry today.

my husband asks if i want him to go get the toys outside and bring them in. i tell him no. i like my reminders.

midnight

"let's go get him", he used to say. when brooks was tiny. when everything was new. we would go get him in the middle of the night, just to hold him and watch him sleep. he was so little, he wouldn't even wake up. we hadn't done it in so long.

"let's go get him", he said last night. "absolutely not", i said. and then, "oh yes, let's" as my better judgment left in favor of enjoying the important moments. i scooped him up, thomas blanket and all. as i carried him to our bed, he mumbled "my bed....want my bed." i smiled as he settled down between us on our pillows. his little mouth that used to make the tiny "o", his arms askew. he's bigger now, but still the same in many ways. we watched him for a few minutes, breathed our prayers of thankfulness.

as i put him back in his bed, he asked for a song. twinkle, twinkle. i sang. he slept. thomas kept him warm. i kissed his warm cheek, smelled his brooks smell, nuzzled my face in his hair. "night, night mommy." night, night brooks. momma loves you.

my windows

we have started singing in our church choir.

for me, singing and music are like home. i grew up with parents who were (and still are) involved in music ministry at every church we ever attended. i have memories of waking up to Christian music and hearing my parents singing and playing the piano. it's always been a part of my life, and is something i have grown to love and enjoy. frequently, God speaks to me through song lyrics and even simply through the beauty of melody and harmony. i love hearing voices sing and instruments play. i sing throughout the day, in my car and around the house. i sang to brooks during my pregnancy, and he seems to love singing and dancing.

jeremy and i have never been in choir together as a couple, so this has been a fun experience for us. i am enjoying watching him learn, hearing him sing, and talking together about the songs we sing. it's been a few years since i myself have been in choir, so feeling at home again through music is a welcome thing. our church isn't the most contemporary church i've been to, and it isn't quite as traditional as what i grew up in; i think it's a good mix of the two, with sincere people who enjoy praising the Lord.  i like the music we do, i'm enjoying learning new songs, and being in choir enhances my experience of worship.

but my favorite part are the windows.

at the front of our church, way up high, is a set of huge expansive windows. before joining the choir, i hadn't noticed the windows. when i'm in the congregation, the windows are behind and above me, but when i'm in the choir loft, they are directly in front of me. because we joined the choir in the winter, most sundays the weather has been cold, dreary, cloudy, and gray. many sundays, it's been raining or snowing. for me, it couldn't be more perfect. i've always loved the rain. cloudy days make me smile; i feel cozy, introspective, thoughtful. so when i sing of my Creator while looking at His beautiful, cloudy days out those huge windows, i can't help but smile. it reminds me of an old hymn that my dad used to sing during storms..."in the lightning flash across the sky, His mighty power i see. and i know if He can reign on high, His light can shine on me. i've seen it in the lightning, heard it in the thunder, and felt it in the rain. my Lord is near me all the time. my Lord is near me all the time."

music, singing, clouds, and rain. it's all home for my heart.

i was wrong

yeah, you heard me. i was wrong.

my husband was right.

it happens...

it all started a few months ago with a you tube video. we had been talking about painting our front door, but jeremy really wanted a stained wooden door, something we couldn't really afford. i took off that day for a few hours and came home to find my husband covered in dark brown stain. he was wearing a sad little face and looked exhausted. i prepared myself for the worst.

as he showed me the door, my internal critic went berzerk. the stain itself didn't look so bad. the color was great. he had tried to put a faux wood grain look into it (hence, the you tube video), and it wasn't awful either. but there had been some trouble getting things the way he wanted it...so there were layers and layers of thick gel stain. additionally, he had left the hardware on the door while he painted, so that had gel stain all over it too.

of course i didn't say all of this out loud. i think i actually said something worse. i'm sorry to say that my mouth got the better of me, and before i could recover from the fumes, i had hurt my sweet husband's feelings badly. he had worked so hard. we didn't speak for a couple of days, and then one glorious afternoon, he offered an olive branch: "wanna go to home depot and look for a new door?"

bless him. we found a door we liked but didn't really want to spend the money. on a lark, we decided to stop by the paint desk just to see if they had any suggestions for fixing what had happened during "the door incident". dan the man was working that day, the best painter ever to work at home depot, i'm sure. we showed him a picture of the door. he shook his head and started tsk, tsk-ing. as he led us down the aisle to our foreseeable doom, he started getting very excited. "here's what you're gonna do...you're gonna take this door outside, NOT IN THE HOUSE CAUSE THIS STUFF IS TOXIC, TOXIC!!, and you're gonna get you some sandpaper and you're gonna sand the $%&# out of this door. then you're gonna wipe it down and then sand the $%&# outta it again. and after you've wiped it down, sand the $%&# out of it again." i'm not exaggerating. this is verbatim. we were silent, in semi-shock, trying not to laugh, scared to death of what dan would do if we did! after about 20min. of instruction, we politely thanked him and scurried away. one look later, we dissolved into a fit of giggles and decided there was no way we were doing all that sanding. we went home to think on it and save up some money.

fast forward to now. it's been a few months, and the door is finally dry. the more i live with it, the less i hate it. in fact, i actually kind of like it now. it's grown on me. we took the hardware off yesterday and gave it all a good coat of oiled bronze spray paint. jeremy put it all back on today, and i have to say, it looks really good. like...really good!

so...i was wrong. and he was right. and i'm glad.

amoxicillin and a prayer for mercy: part two

apparently i have a word limit on this blog...whatever...

after my conversation with God, in which He made it clear that i was to wait.  and to trust.  ugh.  i then spent more time in prayer for His help in doing this. it's just not a natural thing for me. when i tucked brooks in, i laid my hands on his little body and prayed that he would be hungry today, that he would want to eat, and that God would bless his body and help him feel better. i didn't go to sleep with any answers, but i did feel more at peace.

we got up this morning, and while i was making eggs and pancakes (who could resist, right?!), The Lord prompted me to spend more time with Him. i got my bible out, and read psalm 130 out loud again. i said, "Lord, this is a mother's prayer for mercy. he needs to eat. he hasn't eaten well in days. i need him to eat. please help me be patient. help me not stress him out. just help! i trust You."

brooks ate his eggs and cheese. all of them.  ALL OF THEM. and half of a blueberry pancake.

i'm not going to lie. i cried a few tears of joy. of thankfulness. of relief.

it's a silly, little, mundane thing. but my God cares. and this morning, He had mercy on my tired, scared and frustrated momma's heart.

He is teaching me with the little things. showing me with my little one. parenting is so full of God's grace...but i have to wait and trust if i'm ever to see it. i have to cry out for His help, for His mercy, in my every thought, word, and deed. i can't do this on my own. my husband can't. even our best together isn't good enough. we need His hand, His help. even, and especially, in the little things.

amoxicillin and a prayer for mercy: part one

perhaps you're one of those people who pray every now and then, when things get really bad. or maybe your're the type of person who lives life in what feels like a constant state of prayer. or maybe you're like me and fall somewhere in the middle. i'm trying to be more intentional.

i attended a conference a few months ago and got the opportunity to attend some sessions taught by angela cottrell on how to teach your children scripture and how to pray. the short version of what i learned is that i have to lead by example. i've never been one to pray for the little things in life, the daily, mundane things that i guess i never felt like God cares about or has time for. these sessions changed my opinions, as i heard angela's testimony on how God worked through those little things in her life and in the lives of her children. when we are faithful in little, He gives us much... since attending those sessions, i've tried to include more scripture and out loud prayer (where my son can hear me) in our day. some days i do better than others, but what's surprising me is how it's changing my heart.

i recently started a bible study with some ladies at our church. yesterday's reading prompted me to read psalm 130, and to reflect on what it meant to me, what God might be asking of me through it, and how i might need to respond.

psalm 130: a prayer for mercy
Lord, I am in great trouble, so I call out to You. Lord, hear my voice; listen to my prayer for help. Lord, if you punished people for all their sins, no one would be left, Lord. But You forgive us, so You are respected. I wait for The Lord to help me, and I trust His word. I wait for The Lord to help me more than night watchmen wait for the dawn. People of Israel, put your hope in The Lord because He is loving and able to save. He will save Israel from all of their sins.

the first time i read this, if i'm honest, i didn't really think it applied to me. that's ridiculous, of course, because it's God word...so it obviously applies to me...but in my selfish, arrogant heart, that's what came to mind. as i finished the reading for the chapter, i decided to re-read the psalm. this time, my heart caught on "I wait for The Lord to help me, and I trust His word." hmmm....i wait...and i trust... uh oh. that might apply to me. crap. so i read it again, and then a fourth time. i've said before that i'm not good at waiting. patience is not my virtue. and trust is a closely lacking second. i spent a little time in prayer that God would help me to wait and to trust. later that day, He gave me a chance to put my money where my mouth is.

we've had difficulty with getting brooks to eat since the day he was born. there are a multitude of contributing factors, but because he's underweight for his age, it stresses us out and it's something we spend a lot of time thinking about and trying to work on. he likes to eat, he eats a variety of foods, but eats teeny tiny amounts of them. he tells us when he's hungry, when he's not, what he likes, what he doesn't. but he's as stubborn as i am, and with an added streak of two-year old-ness, it's just more than we can figure out some days. he's been sick this past week, and because of his antibiotics his stomach is all topsy-turvy. he hasn't eaten more than a handful of food in almost a week, appears to have lost some weight, and his dad and i just get progressively more worried as the days go on. we keep hearing, "he'll eat when he's hungry", which we agree with, except that he's not getting hungry! so we worry, we fret, we stress him out, we stress ourselves out. we just don't want something to be wrong.

so after another difficult and tiny dinner last night, God brought this scripture to mind. "I wait for The Lord to help me, and I trust His word."  my internal prayer went a little like this:

Him: do you trust me with this?
me: do You even care about this?
Him: I care about you. I care about brooks. and you care about this and him. so yes, I care about this.
me: and i'm supposed to wait and trust?
Him: yes.
me: ........sigh......how long do i have to wait?
Him: you just wait. and trust.
me: ok

my plate (?)

ya'll... my boy made this.  for me.

what is it, you ask? i'm not actually sure. maybe a plate? serving tray? or perhaps it's just the greatest piece of artwork ever made? 

we craft a lot at our house, so i have lots of drawings, projects with cotton balls, and things covered in stickers. i love them all, and i have to force myself to not keep everything he touches. it's torture throwing away his little creative things. 

but we have never attempted making a...we'll call it a plate, for now. 

we go to M.O.Ps on Friday nights at our church, a bible study and fun group for mother's of preschoolers. the focus of this group seems to be on living a life that glorifies God, which is what i hope to teach to my son. the devotionals are spot-on with where i am in my life and with what God has been speaking to my heart. my child is well-taken care of, fed even, while i get to spend time enjoying God's word and time with other moms. he has a great time, i have a great time, there's food, and sometimes he comes home with a plate. it doesn't get any better. 

my mom has a really ugly pig in her kitchen. it's one that i made when i was maybe 5 or 6 years old. it's wooden, with black and white beans glued all over it and a little red bow. i remember being pretty proud of that pig. and 30ish years later, minus several beans, it still hangs out in her kitchen. when i picked brooks up last night from his class at M.O.Ps, and they gave me this ceramic plate he had made back before Christmas (it had to have time to "cure"), i instantly knew that everyone who ever enters my home would see it on display and know how very precious the work of these little hands is to me. it's got little lines all through it that i presume he drew with his fingers. i almost cried when they showed it to me. these people know what a momma's heart needs: good Christian people who love my son and who care enough about me to teach me God's word and help my child make me a plate. 

it's my first real piece of art from my brooks. i've been staring at it all morning. it and what it represents are just precious to me. 

thank you God, for plates. for fingers that paint, and for the hands that guide those fingers when i am not there. 

conversations

my two year old is pretty smart. he talks a lot.   a lot.

here's a sampling from tonight's chattering:

me: are you hungry buddy?
him: yes.
me: daddy's ordering a pizza. do you want some pizza?
him: NOOOO!!!! NO PIZZA!!! NO PIZZA! NO PIZZA!
me: ok. no pizza.
him: NO PIZZA!
me: ok, brooks. i got it. no pizza. [stupidly...] but daddy and i are gonna eat pizza.
him: NO!! NO!! NO PIZZA!
me: ok! no pizza! no pizza!
him: want pizza!
me: ok buddy. whatever you want. as soon as we get home.
him: daddy home? stay with daddy. WANT DADDY!
me: yep, you got it. you can stay with daddy when we get home.
him: NO MOMMY!
me: you don't want mommy?
him: MOMMY STAY!!! NO MOMMY! MOMMY STAY! WANT DADDY!
me: i'm confused. do you want mommy!
him: STAY! HOME!
me: whatever you say, brooks.
him: [cue tears] PIZZA!

i give up.
brooks: 1  mom: 0