Bible Study Drop Out

Seriously, did you hear "beauty school drop ooouttt" a la Grease when you read that, the way I heard it when I typed it???

Anyway.

I keep trying to write a post about the new church we've been attending, and everything that has gone into our move there, but it just doesn't feel right still.  Someday, it will come.  Right now, I still can't get the words right, or the feelings right.  There's just too much in my head to sort through and make sense of still.

Anyway.

When we first started attending this new church, Shawn and I swore off joining anything.  We are not joiners to begin with, we are more like the social recluses who cling to the wall in the hopes we won't be noticed, but we've found with past churches that joining leads to even more insecurities than we are prepared to deal with.  I am not one for cliques, and sadly, I've found many churches to have cliques worse than high school.  I am not into competition--you either like me or you don't--and I am not someone's project.  Besides all of that, I prefer people at an arm's length.  I have a few close friends who know me inside and out, but beyond that, I am just not into all that sharing and girlhood closeness.  I have tried, in the past, to be part of that, but have only been met with disappointment when I did not measure up to what 'they' wanted.  Maybe it's all perception, but it's my perception, and this is my blog, so there's that.  I don't like bible studies, or anything that gets a bunch of women (or people in general) together for what has the potential to be intimate discussion.  It becomes more and more difficult to keep that arm's length distance.  People want to know about you, your life, your feelings.  It starts to get personal.  Then they want you to join other things, and when you don't, things get weird.  They don't like you as much, and that so-called unconditional acceptance you are supposed to be able to find in church begins to wear off.  You start finding out just how fake some people are beneath their surface Christianity.  Oh--and there's that whole working-through-your-issues thing, too, depending on the study.  Yes, there's that.

So, Shawn and I swore off joining.  We just want to go, attend on Sunday, do our family stuff with the kids throughout the week, and have that be it.  We've been attending since September, and things have worked just fine for us this way.

Then Noah joined the audio/tech group.  All on his own.

Then God moved us from the back row (gasp), our comfort zone, to the way-too-close-to-the-front rows in the middle of the church.

And our pastor has this point he makes every week:  "No one is worth going to hell over," meaning, if past hurts are keeping you from moving forward... Move on.

God is moving within our family, and if we don't hang on, He's going to drag us one way or another (which for us tends to involve kicking and screaming).

Soooo.  Our church recently began their spring connections groups drive.  I flipped through the book.  A few looked interesting.  Sure, I'd like to do them.  BUT, I'd have to JOIN.  People will know my name and want to have conversations on Sunday morning.  There wouldn't be anymore closing myself off in my protective little bubble. There's that word again. JOIN. Ugh.  Sigh.  NO.  Just NO.

However, after the service, I found myself in the lobby, pen in hand, signing up not just for one, but TWO studies.  Wow, talk about hiking up the big girl panties!  I've told myself, as I have before, I will stick these out.  Both are focused on becoming a better mom, and I owe this to my children.   You know who else I owe this to?  God.  He craves a deeper, more meaningful relationship with me, and He wants me to have a better, deeper relationship with my children.  He did not die on the cross so I could sit around and whine about not wanting to join.  So, I am praying, and working on changing my mindset.  This is not about the collective them, or my perceptions, it's about becoming a better follower of Christ, a better mom and wife, and just a better me overall.  I have no excuses this time: childcare is provided (Avery will benefit from playing with other children), they are morning classes (nighttime driving and exhaustion have always been a major excuse for evening classes), and really, I just need this.  I deserve to do this for myself.  I will give this church, these groups, an unprejudiced chance, and will not judge based on past experiences. I know I will be guarded, I feel that's just who I am, but I will go into this with open eyes, and an open heart.

Letting Go

I watched Avery climb this tree today, all on his own.  He was adamant that he did not want help. Shawn stood by, waiting just in case he was needed.  I stood by, ready in case something bigger was needed--ice, 911, Mommy's kisses.  What I really wanted to do was say, "No!  Don't do that!  You're too little!  You'll get hurt!"  For the record, even though it was on the tip of my tongue, I bit the words back and instead, cheered him on.

Those times I think are some of the hardest as a mom--loosening the apron strings and letting go just a bit.  Believing in our children, accepting that there are times we need to let them do things on their own, even if it means getting hurt or failing.

It got me thinking too, about all the times I get myself up a tree, metaphorically, yelling at God, "I can do this myself!  I don't need or want Your help!  Your way is not MY way!"

Hmmmm.  Yup.  I can be a real brat sometimes.  I don't want to submit to His will and His ways.  I want it done my way, in my time frame, because I said so.

And, because He has given us free will, even when He wants to step under my tree and catch me, even when He wants to tell me I will get hurt--He doesn't.  He steps back, knowing I have to learn on my own.  I have to learn, and learn again, that I cannot do this thing called life on my own.  I cannot do it my way, and I do have to submit to His will.  When I'm ready to come down from my tree, He always takes me back, helps me brush off the dust and dirt, and points me back in the proper direction.  Father knows best.

Interestingly, this wasn't the only learning-through-my-children moment today.  I had to talk with Noah about jealously and anger tonight.  I used myself as the example, explaining to him how much I want a baby right now, but God has said no.  I have to submit to that answer, even with the anger and rage I feel about it.  I don't like His decision, but I do have to live with it.   Again, Father knows best.  Just as our decision concerning Noah stands and he has to live with it, because we are his parents and we know best. As Christians, we are taught to not covet what our friends, family and neighbors have, which is pretty hard for a kid to do.  You know something?  It's pretty hard for a 37 year old to do too.  I explained to Noah that I want to be angry at other women right now, the pregnant ones, the ones who get to have all the babies they want, but I can't allow myself to.  Instead, I have to find happiness and joy for them in their moment.  This is my moment to learn, whatever it is God has planned will play out.  In submitting to my anger, rage and jealousy, I am allowing the enemy of my soul to win this round, and I will not allow that.

It's 'funny' what our kids can teach us when we are open to it, even as we are trying to teach them.  I don't want to let go of my children, I don't want to let go of my feelings, but I can't keep them clutched in my fist forever.  I have to let go.  Father knows best.

*the true irony in this post is how I originally typed out the title: "Letting God."  Freudian?  Perhaps.  God?  Definitely.*

Dark Moments: Raging at God

I started this a few nights ago.  I have hesitated in posting it because it is so raw, and filled with so much anger.  It was written very impulsively, with a lot of emotion, and I don't normally post when I write that way.  If I do post it, it will be because maybe there is another woman out there struggling with similar issues, and maybe she needs to hear she isn't alone.  If I post it, it is not for sympathy or pity, or "dear dear"'s and pats on the hand. I just need to get this out of my head. My head is killing me from crying so much, I had a breakdown in church yesterday, I can't sleep and I don't want to eat. I can feel the grief and depression closing in around me.  Oh, and in case I didn't get the message that my body is betraying me (again), I started my period and have the cramps from hell.  I am trying to concentrate on the positive, on the things I do have: two great kids, a husband who loves me and is going through this same hell, terrific friends who support me, and somewhere in all of this, my Father who really knows what's what.  I won't lie, though: I want to curl up in bed and just sleep.  This is hard.

Anyway, here it is:

I should be asleep, but I haven't slept in three nights now.  It's 2 am on the fourth night, and I realized if I don't get this out of my head, I will toss and turn with this again and again until I do.

Almost two--gulp--years ago, a friend of mine had a little boy.  I have truly delighted in watching him grow from sweet little infant, to a sweetly 'rotten' toddler.  Even when he's emptying the recycling bin for the umpteenth time, he's adorable.  He's a fun little boy, and my friend has willingly shared him with me, for which I'm grateful.  His smile is a heart-melter, and when she tells me about his latest antics, I am quick to say, "Oh, not my little Mighty Might!"  Last spring, J and I met up with our littles for ice cream.  I remember it still so vividly, more because of what she said, than anything.  As usual, I quickly liberated him from his stroller, and we rocked.  He was sick, and he was exhausted after keeping my friend up all night, so he quickly fell asleep against me.  I can still remember the weight of his head on my shoulder, his little hand on my back.  I closed my eyes, and smiled, reminiscing about my own boys at that age, just soaking up the moment.  Then my friend said--"You're not finished."  I knew what she was referring to.  We had discussed it a few times before, but I was on the fence about another baby.  Sure, it would be nice, buuuuutttt.....  In that moment, I realized she was right.  I didn't feel finished.  My family was not yet complete.

Shawn and I tossed the idea around for quite a while. It wasn't something we hadn't discussed before, and while we hadn't closed the door, we were tentative.  So many factors to consider.  In the end, we realized we don't want to live with the regret of not having another child.  We don't want to miss out, we want this chance.  Our family does not feel complete.  We've made informed decisions, talked with my doctors, and I went off all dangerous meds.  So, little known fact, we've been trying to conceive since December.  We have allowed ourselves to be excited (and simultaneously terrified!), to hope, dream and wonder about this child.  Will she be an Erica or an Amelia, or, will he be a Thomas or a William?  We even came up with a cute way of announcing the pregnancy, using a play on our left field life.  We've reminisced about Noah's and Avery's pregnancies, births and infancies, talked about what we'll do differently this time, laughed about our inexperienced moments with Noah, and marveled at how far we've come. Knowing how long it took for Avery, and knowing things aren't perfect with my reproductive history and overall health, I'm not sure we've been surprised with each negative test.  Disappointed for sure, but maybe not really surprised, even though we've remained hopeful.

This week, we were dealt a crushing blow,  the answer for all the minus signs.  I saw my doctor, a specialist who is treating my body as a whole, rather than separate specialists for each organ system, and she said conception would be nothing short of a miracle.  My body just works too much against itself.  Even if I could conceive, I would be an even higher risk than I was with Avery, and another miscarriage would be a tremendous possibility.  Because of the autoimmunes and other factors, this is not something fertility drugs would solve.  I'm devastated.  This is not what we wanted to hear.

Now, we've been down this road before.  That sort of declaration is just so--final.  You can literally hear the door slamming shut.  I accepted it at first, years ago.  Then I realized--I didn't like it, and I raged against it.  I raged at God. Why?  What did I do to deserve this?  What did Shawn and I do so wrong that we deserve this?  I cried every time I saw babies and pregnant women, and when I learned of my sister's fifth child (because ruining the lives of her first four kids wasn't enough) around the time of my miscarriage (which only confirmed what my doctors told us), it was the last straw.  I emptied the house of anything baby-related.  I did not want any reminders of what my body refused to do that others were able to do so easily and without thought.  I am back at that point.  And, while I feel I am at a different, better place in my relationship with God than I was last time, meaning I know all the rational, Christ-centered answers, my reaction--anger--is still the same.  I am not ready to happy-go-luckily skip away from it, saying "Okay then, that's that!"   I am not able to look at it from the what-if-God-is-protecting-us perspective; I can't imagine such a scenario that would make me think "It's a good thing we didn't have that child," or worse, "I wish we hadn't had this one."  I know He is in this, and I'm not running from Him as I did last time, instead I'm running to Him, I know His hand in this, even though I can't see it.  I know I need to continue to praise Him through this.  I'm not even sure my anger is directed necessarily at God this time, I just want to know WHY.  I want to know if this is just a temporary setback, or is this forever?  I know He knows things we are not yet privy to, but I don't understand this.  What lesson does this serve?  Why would He give us this desire, this love for a child who does not yet exist, if not to give life to that child?  I cherish my boys, I love them, I am fiercely protective of them.  And they are my proof God exists.  They make me absolutely nuts, but I can't imagine life any other way.  There are people who abuse, neglect, sell and even murder their children--and they go on to have more.  Why?  Why are they allowed to have more children, but Shawn and I--with the love, the means, the ability, the knowledge--we are being told it's an impossibility?  We will love any child we are given, we know the possibilities we face due to genetics and heredity, but we are willing to take those chances because we want another child to love.  On some desperate level, I feel like I'm being punished, and I don't know why.  I'm raging, I'm angry, and I'm demanding answers from God.  I want to know WHY.  Why do seemingly undeserving people who don't want the children they have, have more?  Addicts, alcoholics, criminals, one night stands, teenagers, people who don't even want children--why is it so easy for them?   I know I am far from the perfect mom, but I love and cherish my children.  I have no doubt that another child would make me just as nuts as the two I have now, but just as Noah and Avery are, that child is wanted and already loved.  We know it wouldn't be perfect, but Shawn and I want this chance.

After my appointment, Shawn and I took the kids to a museum, and I mentioned it to him in passing--public place, no chance for in depth discussion.  I dropped the bomb and kept walking, after looking at an infant sleeping peacefully in his carrier and wanting to burst into tears.  I know how unfair that was of me, and I know how unfair it is of me that I don't want to talk about it with him.  I know he needs to talk about it and process it also, but I've shut him out.  It's a whole new grief process for both of us, again.  He came up behind me to hug me today, resting his hand on my belly like he did when I was pregnant, and I smacked his hand away, ducking his hug. My husband could've been praying, maybe he just needed as much reassurance as I do right now, maybe he didn't even realize where his hand was and it was just a casual thing because he just wanted to hug me--and I rejected him.  I turn inwardly in moments like this, refusing comfort, then lash out at those around me.  I don't want comfort, I want answers.  If I can focus on the anger, then I don't have to give attention to the devastation.  And if I don't give attention to the devastation beneath the anger, there's no chance of a complete breakdown in the grocery store, or at church, or when I'm taking Avery to preschool.  If I don't give attention to the devastation, I'm not vulnerable.  It is a dark time for me, being angry not just at God, but at my body, which has once again betrayed me.  I'm angry at the people it's so easy for, the ones who declare "This will be the year of the baby!" and they're seemingly immediately pregnant.  I'm angry at those with children who take them for granted, neglect and abuse them, and even those who may actually love their children, but ignore them rather than raising them and putting time into them.  I am a five year old, stomping her feet, shaking her fist, and screaming "IT'S NOT FAIR!"

Knowing she would understand, I texted Mr Mighty Might's mom with the latest declaration that evening, telling her I didn't want to talk about it, but there it is.  This was her reminder: "Oh sweetie.  That is why we serve a God of BIG miracles.  All the experts in the world have no idea the plans God has for you.  But at the same time, we have to be willing to accept His plans no matter what they may be."

A good reminder, and as always, she spoke life, love, hope, and our reality as Believers.  No judgement, no "maybe this is for the best," no pat-on-the-hand-it-will-be-okay 'reassurances.' As I said earlier, Noah and Avery are my proof God exists; because of them, I know nothing is impossible for God.  They are my proof He is still performing miracles, and that many times, modern medicine has no clue what it's talking about.  I know how lucky--blessed--I am to have them.  I wonder if Shawn and I have used up our share of miracles, but I am not feeling selfless enough to agree we've had ours, and it's someone else's turn.  I'm sure there are childless couples who would tell me I'm being selfish and greedy--and maybe I am--but I am not ready to give up.  I am not willing to accept this declaration that this is it.  As I'm sure God has come to expect of me by now, I am not finished demanding answers of God, and I am not willing to accept that this could be His plan for us.

Please Help!

Noah has been (horse) riding with a local therapy center for three years now.  I can't even begin to put into words what this center has done not just for Noah, but for our entire family--and really, I can't even talk about it without breaking down in tears.  Rainbow is such an amazing, incredible place, filled with amazing, incredible people and horses.  We owe so much to this place.

When Noah was first diagnosed, we went through OT, PT, speech therapy, social skills therapy, counseling--and none of it worked.  None of it captured Noah's interest or held his attention.  They were all things we were making him do.  Frustrated, I emailed a friend from church, knowing she rides, and asked her if she could tell me of any local equine therapy centers.  As God would have it, she was an instructor at the very one where Noah is!  I don't believe in luck here, this was all God, the way things have fallen into place, and just worked so well in Noah's favor.  Miss J worked so hard to establish Noah with another instructor who appreciates Noah's abilities, and she also established him with scholarships.  Tuition for equine therapy is by no means cheap, and it has not always been affordable for us.  We are beyond grateful to be part of the scholarship program.

To see Noah successful, naturally successful--I don't know how to explain it.  He struggled for so long with so much, but from the very first time he was on a horse (Molly was his first!), he was just born to do it.  The horse is a mere extension of Noah, both of working together, sensing each other, and just being.  Not only is Noah riding, but he has also begun working on horsemanship (groundwork, think: horse whispering).  These horses seem to grasp the extraordinary value of themselves and the work they do, and everyone there, from the administrators and board of directors, to the instructors and volunteers, is there for the kids.  It's all about the riders, and what's best for them.  I have seen children with delays learn to spell from on top of a horse, children with balance and coordination problems ride without help, nonverbal children speak--and just so much more.

So--my point to all of this--Noah has a fun show coming up in June, a chance to show off his skills and win some ribbons!  Noah, and Rainbow, need your help!  Rainbow is non-profit, and needs all the fundraising it can get.  If you are looking for a worthwhile place to donate your money, I am asking you to consider doing so to Rainbow in Noah's honor.  If you own your own business/company and would like to sponsor Noah, or a specific show class, you can do that as well!  You can go straight to their website, and donate through their website:
http://rainbowriding.org


Last year's fun show:  Noah won two ribbons from his show classes!

Here are two forms you can also use as reference, and a mailing address.

THANK YOU is not enough--but, THANK YOU, for your donation and consideration.  We are incredibly grateful!

The Furr Family