Words

We all know that words have power.  They can make or break a conversation, a relationship, and sadly, even a human being.  Many times though, it's not so much the words as it is the tone with which we say the words.  Our words say one thing, but our tone says something else.  Sometimes we may not even be aware of it, but the listener hears something entirely different anyway.

Perhaps the best example many of us can relate to is when we speak to our pets; we can say almost anything to them in a nice voice and our dog will wag her tail, but say something nice in a not so nice voice, and she will shy away.  It's all about tone.

Have you ever said the words, but not felt them?  For example, have you replied to your kids, "I love you, too," but sighed with exhaustion as you said it, instead of the enthusiasm they need?  Something like that?  What my children might be hearing in my reply is "Please go away right now," rather than the affirmation they need that they are safe, loved and cared for.

I'm becoming more and more aware that what I say isn't necessarily what my children hear.  I know this applied to me growing up, and I should have caught myself in this similar trap sooner.  Yes, I'm feeling a ton of mommy guilt over this.  I'm on a mission to correct this, being more aware of not just what I say, but how I say it.

This seems to apply the most to Avery.  Call it middle child syndrome, low self esteem, manipulative behavior--label it however you want, Avery's going through some stuff.  He's become very sensitive, and has begun taking just about everything personally. He needs a lot of affirmation, a firm hand and discipline--and a lot more affirmation and love on top of that.  He's the child who hears "Please go away" or "you're not like the rest of us" in my tone when I ask him to please stop talking, or tell him that trampoline jumping at 5:30 am isn't a good idea, or that he needs to sleep in his own bed, or whatever the latest admonishment is.  He says these things out loud to me during his meltdowns and tantrums, so I know this for fact.  It hurts.  It cuts deep that my sweet boy feels this way and thinks these things about himself, because they are the complete opposite of how I really feel about him.  

My ministry is motherhood.  My missions field is my home.  The community I serve is my family.  My children deserve the best of me, the best of what God has given me to give them.  I don't always get it right.  Avery is my teacher, my lesson is that my words and tone care so much weight, and must be carefully chosen and used.

An Ode to My Husband on Father's Day

This man.

I couldn't ask for more.  He's given me three amazing boys.  He showers me with love and affection.  He downright spoils me. He knows my every flaw, and yet he loves me anyway.  He has carried me when I couldn't go on--when I didn't want to go on.  He has believed in me when I could not believe in myself.  He has sheltered me. He has saved my life, emotionally and spiritually.  He makes me laugh and reminds to live life lightly.  He is my hero, my defender, my confidante, my soul mate, my partner in crime, my provider.  He is my best friend.  He completes me.

Our boys could not ask for more.  He is their daddy, their warrior, their friend, their playmate, their trouble making partner in crime, their provider.  He will fight to the ends of the earth for them, and continue further. He loves these boys, he adores them.  He needs them possibly more than they need him.  He is their hero and their defender.  He loves them with a ferocity only a dad can feel for his children.

Every day, I find new reasons to be grateful for Shawn.  Whether it's having to fight traffic to get to a doctor's appointment in the city, and realizing he does this every single day in order to provide for us, or finding a note he left for me, or when he comes back up the driveway to say goodbye just one more time before leaving for work--we know we are loved by him.

I can't 'do' life without Shawn.  I can't imagine life any other way.  I don't want to ever have to live it any other way.  I wouldn't want to raise my children with anyone else.  I'm so glad I get to call Shawn my husband, and grateful our children call him Daddy.

Happy Father's Day, my love.

Obedience

"Obedience" is a word I stumble on in my mouth.  It does not come out easily, and sounds very garbled.  Shawn and I frequently joke about that part of God's commandment to me for our marriage, and our marriage vows.  "Woman!  Obey me! Get in the kitchen," he will pretend to shout, laughing.  Then I ask him how well that's worked for him the past 16 years of our marriage.  Uh-huh.

I imagine God does much of the same.  He shakes His head (Does God roll His eyes?  I think He does.), "CHILD!  Obey Me!  If you would just LISTEN and OBEY!"

We are called to obedience in order to fully trust God.  Obedience does not mean I will necessarily receive what I'm praying for.  It does mean faithfulness to my Father, though.  Obedience means admitting my own weaknesses and knowing I cannot do 'this' on my own.  It means giving complete control and trust to God, and admitting there are things far beyond my own control.

Yeahhhhhh.  Obedience is not one of my strong suits.  It's something I'm working on, but I'll be honest--I've bucked that system for a very long time, so it's a definite work in progress.  I'm giving up too much of my own control, too much trust, too much of my own free will.  Obedience often makes me feel as though I'm stuck under someone's thumb, or laid out like a doormat.  I feel as though I should curtsy, eyes cast downward, and say, "Yessuh!"

 Here's the thing, though.  Recently I recognized the desperate need for obedience.  I've taken a break from social media.  I'm a daily, several-times-a-dayer-poster.  I dropped Facebook over 6 years ago, but I picked up Instagram about 3 years ago.  I enjoy Instagram a lot more than Facebook, but I'm the first to admit it is still a hindrance, while not as much of one, as Facebook was.  It's a distraction, and not always a healthy one.  I've become very attached to many of the people on Instagram; I enjoy them, I enjoy the friendships and connections, I enjoy being able to pray over them, share our interests, laugh with them, cry with them, celebrate with them.  I love it when I see something that makes me think of Connie, Michele, Nancy, Kristy, Sandy, Andy, Sally--all 200 of them! I've worried about some of my social media friends while I've been off the past two weeks, and I do miss them desperately, but this time away has also given me the opportunity to be more intentional through email, texts and phone calls.  I've been more present with my children and Shawn.   I've been more passionate and present with my prayer time. I also know there are many of my social media friends who will understand my reason when I return.

Okay, I'm digressing.  Back to obedience--it's not about me.  Wait, what was that?  Yep.  It's. Not.  About. Me.  This is so much bigger than me.  It's about God and my relationship with Him. It's about being disciplined in my faith.  It's about what He has called me to do for Him and His people, and being faithful to that calling.  It's about... OBEDIENCE. Social media is a huge distraction for me--a distraction from what's most important--God, and His purpose.

As I've mentioned in early posts, our family has been in fervent prayer for a local little girl and her family.  We've been fasting and praying, on our knees in absolute desperation.  Being off social media has been part of that for me. There is a precious little girl whose name is Mirranda Grace, and she needs my prayers more than I need social media.  And I need God more than I need social media.

This is me being obedient, and not choking on the word.

Lucky Number Seven

Bag Troll

Avery is seven today.  7.  SEVEN.  Seven years old.

A little less than eight years ago, we learned a miracle was on his way.  A precious baby the doctors told us wasn't possible.  It was a pretty big deal to us, unbelievable, amazing and just astounding.  Shawn and I stood in absolute awe, staring at that incredible word, "pregnant," on the pregnancy test, asking each other, "Are you SURE?" We cried in absolute amazement and unabashed joy at the first sonogram, our first look at our second little boy.  He still didn't feel real to us--Was this really happening after so many years of prayer?--but he certainly was VERY.  REAL.  So many people helped us pray Avery into existence, and rejoiced with us when we made the announcement.  Here he is!  Finally.

It was so scary too.  We'd miscarried, we'd had month after month of negative pregnancy tests and we'd given up.  We went from disbelief, to fear, to treating me as if my body were wrapped in bubble wrap, to hope and awe, to trusting God that He gave us this child, He would make sure everything would be okay.  We had bed rest when I had severe contractions at 12 weeks, bed rest again when my BP shot up halfway through my pregnancy, and bed rest again at the end.  We had fear when he arrived early and things went completely crazy and scary during his birth.  And in the end, God delivered on his promises: Avery was just fine, just perfect, and safely here.

I know there are still people who don't believe in miracles. I know there are people who don't believe in God.  Here in our home, we don't believe in anything less.  We know our God is capable, and we know He still performs miracles everyday. Avery tells me, "You prayed for a little boy named Avery, and God said, 'Here he is!' Then, when my liver was sick when I was born, God made me all better!"  My prayer is that my precious boy clings to these truths as he lives out God's will for him.  My prayer is that he will always follow God's path, and cling to that righteousness.

We do struggle with Avery, but that's not what this post is about.  Truthfully, he struggles with us just as much. There are times I just know being a kid is much harder than being a parent. This post is to celebrate Avery, his life, and his purpose. I've always believed God has big plans for Avery (for all my boys); otherwise, the way Avery 'happened' would be kind of pointless, don't you think?  I know our struggle to have him has made us more grateful for him, for his life, and for his ultimate purpose.  It gives us the strength to continue to pour into him, even when it's difficult.  God will turn all of this for His good.

Yesterday morning I was lamenting to Avery that he's turning into a big 7 year old, and whatever will I do with a 7 year old??  "The same things you do with me when I'm 6, Mom!"  Duh.  We counted freckles as we snuggled, and I named off the many things that make him special, that make him Avery, that I just adore and love about him.  Freckles, giggles, hearty-old-man-laughter, his names, his story, his beautiful heart, the way his face crinkles when he smiles and laughs, his sly nature when he thinks he's doing something he shouldn't but it's actually funny, the way he loves Max and his brothers, and his snuggles.  I love that, in the middle of the night, he knows my bed, tucked between myself and Shawn, is his safe haven when he's scared, lonely, had a bad dream, or just can't get back to sleep. I love his love for his lovies, and the way his favorite thing to do for new babies is to choose a special lovey.  I love it when he tucks himself into the Mommy Cubby, and when he wants to hear stories from his earlier years. I love his goofy sense of humor, his intense imagination, and how he has his own style and individuality.  I love it when he comes in for snuggles and lets me sniff his lucky ear (long story), and I love that ears have become our family love language because of him.  I love that he makes so many other people laugh and smile, even people we've never met.  I love it when Avery comes out with completely random, yet totally profound thoughts. Yes, I even love his opinionated, independent, strong willed stubborn streak that makes me question my parenting abilities.  In my heart, I know that will be his strength as he matures and grows.  As I nurture that part of his personality, that will be what God uses for His purpose.  I never want my children to think my love for them is merit based--I love them simply because they are my children and my gifts--but I do want them to know the things I love about them. Do you see the difference?  The love for a child is sacred, just as God's love for us is.

Avery has taught me about God's timing.  Long before his life even began, he was teaching me about patience and God's timing.  To this day, he's still teaching me about those.  Avery teaches me about getting out of my comfort zone and loosening up. I've had to conquer some of my fears and anxieties to help him do the same with his (like taking a flying jump off a trampoline into a foam pit below!). He teaches me to just let go.  He teaches me that not everything has to be done my way, and as long it's done, it doesn't matter how it gets done--my way isn't always best! Avery has taught me that as long as you feel good, know you look good, and like what you're wearing, your clothes don't really have to match! Avery is my little clotheshorse! He teaches me about fervent prayer and patience as a mom; there are also many lessons about hope, and so very many more about granting grace and mercy. He reminds me daily to be the mom to him who he needs, in the way God is my Father to me who I need.  Avery has taught me that, even within the same family, each child needs a different type of parent.  I think Avery has been my real, true lesson about my children being God's children first and foremost, too.  With Noah, I knew it, but I didn't really understand it.  I didn't grasp the concept completely.  I know that my children are for me to give back to the world, to raise to do well, to raise as servants of Christ, His hands and feet.  With Avery, came true gratitude for my children, for the gifts and blessings they are, and are yet to be.

"I prayed for this child, and the LORD has granted me what I asked of him."

1 Samuel 1:27

Written by Noah

Recently, Noah was asked to write an article for the upcoming September newsletter for the grief center I volunteer with.  He asked what he should write about, and my mom-answer was, "Pray about it."  After some thought, he sat down to type, then wrote this in less than fifteen minutes.  I have to tell you, I read this through tears, and I'm just blown away.  What an amazing young man I've been given!  Enjoy....
*Printed with permission*

Don't Give Up

           "What has the Lord done in my life? Well the funny thing is, that’s the easy question! The Lord has done a lot for me and for that I am thankful. The harder question is:  Where do I start? I guess I start at the beginning. On January 24, 2001 the Lord brought me into this world, and this will sound cliche, but He gave me the two best parents a child could have. And that in itself is a blessing. Sure, they aren’t perfect, but who is? The thing that matters is that they were perfect for the job. Although as I grew older I started to feel lonely. My dad worked full time and my mother had fibromyalgia and was in constant pain. So like any young child I wanted a younger sibling, someone to play with. The problem that my 7 or 8 year old mind couldn’t understand is that wasn’t possible. At least that’s what the doctors said. At the same time I was diagnosed with Aspergers, ADHD, and depression and anxiety. Sometimes it was like we were fighting a never-ending battle. But we held firm in our faith. My mom was volunteering with Spiritual Care Support Ministries at the time and on Thursday mornings we would visit and eat breakfast. Which, by the way, my mom makes THE best quiche! But now I’m getting off-track... It seemed that God put just the right people in my life. And on June 15, 2009 a miracle happened.  My little brother, Dennis Avery Owen was born. I got the little brother I always wanted! As I grew older the Devil kept throwing problems at us, but needless to say, problems can be solved. I eventually came to embrace my diagnosis as a gift using it to the best of my advantage. Using it to show that NOTHING, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING is impossible through Christ. As time carried on my family wanted another child, but doctors again said that would never happen. The devil is just stubborn isn’t he? But God is more stubborn. On April 15, 2015 Jonathan Ezra Aaron was born into world. God Just loves proving the Devil wrong doesn’t he? So my piece of advice? If you or your family is under attack, hold on to that sliver of hope. Don’t ever let it go. Because God will come through. Or maybe you see yourself and ask yourself you could ever possibly help anyone. Well the one thing that I've learned is that your misgivings are most often your gifts. So hold on to that hope and stay faithful."

    

Pearls

There I was, sitting next to a very pregnant mom at the library today.  She had a young four or five year old boy with her.  As we oohed and aahhhed at the wild animal program with our children, it really was laid on my heart to say something encouraging to her.

As the program ended, I turned to her and told her I don't really have any words of wisdom, but I just wanted to encourage her.  Going from one to two is a difficult transition, but it's a worthy one.  I commented that she is obviously already doing a great job with her older son.  She smiled and thanked me (I'm turning into one of those nice old ladies! Next I will be patting young mothers on their hands, saying "There, there.  One day you're going to miss this!"), and we went our separate ways.

When the boys and I got home, I resumed my chores, heading upstairs to do the laundry, tripping over toys and panicking at the plastic poo in the hallway.  As I pulled the sheets out of the dryer, I realized there was something that looked like lipstick all over them.  Weird.  I don't keep lipstick in my pockets. Spots.  Everywhere.  All over four sets of sheets.  As I pulled out the final sheet, a crayon fell out.  Bright.  Red.  Crayon.  Everywhere.  Spots.

I wanted to yell.  Sheets, ruined.  How could my kids be so careless?  I shook my head, wondering at the lack of wisdom I shared with the other mom just moments earlier.

Then I checked for news about the little girl we've been praying for, and suddenly spotted sheets weren't such a big deal anymore.

Tonight, I get to hugs my kids a little tighter and a little longer, as long and as tight as they'll let me.  I get to tuck my kids in. I don't have to make life-or-death decisions, and I don't have to wait until someone else does, either.  I get to hear them talk endlessly, I get to hear their giggles and watch their eyes light up as they smile.

I can't take the devastation, anger, frustration and just immense, overall defeat I feel right now.  Yes, in the infinite wisdom of little old ladies everywhere, I will miss these moments with my children immensely.  But for now, I do get to hug my boys and remind them how much I love them.  

Prayer Doesn't Work That Way

I like to think I'm pretty convincing when I pray.  Well, I try to be.  I do a lot of encouraging, some cajoling, maybe a little bit of bribing and bargaining, and a whole lot of nagging...  Much as I do when I'm trying to convince my kids to do something they don't want to do.

Then I get impatient and start yelling.  JUST. DO. IT. ALREADY!

Yes.  Yes, I yell at God.  Sometimes a lot.  Sometimes louder than other times.  I have a feeling He's used to it at this point, along with my nagging.  Just like my kids.

But that's not how prayer works.  I can't make my will into God's will.  God has nothing to prove to me, nor does He need to prove anything to me.  As much as I want to, I cannot force God to do my bidding.

This has been a difficult lesson, especially recently.  It's difficult for me to just leave things in God's hands. It might be because I'm a control freak.  We've been praying for another family's miracle.  We've been fervent, we've been fasting.  We want this miracle.  We need this miracle.  We don't even know this family, but here we are.  It's in our hearts.  I've never felt as though I'm much of an intercessor as far as prayer goes, but I am praying for this family's little girl the same way I pray for my own children. There's a push I feel.  Her name is never far from my lips, and she is constantly in my thoughts.  I've cried over this, and I've been physically ill. Shawn and I have even admitted to each other the fear to our prayers; if God can take this family's miracle child--well, yes, that is our fear.  It could just as easily be one our boys.  I want this miracle for this family.  I want God to give them this miracle to prove the doctors wrong.  I want God to grant this miracle because He's given so many to us.  I want God to provide this miracle to build lives and belief for Him, to show His power, grace and mercy.  I want, I want, I want.

I have been praying my will though. Screaming my will. Bargaining my will.  She's just a baby girl, barely older than Ezra.  And there's God's voice, reminding me that I have to pray HIS will.  He knows best, and whatever He decides, is best for His child.  I have to take comfort in His will, and know His truth is best.  It's not about what I want, it's about what God knows. God's healing is sometimes different than human healing.  And in that, I do believe there will be healing for this little girl.

Balance

Let this be a lesson to you.... Procrastination gets you NOWHERE!!!

I had a paper due last night.  I had a week to get it finished.  A research paper... Not something you can rush.  It doesn't work that way.  But I put it off to spend time with the boys.  We had places to go, people to see, things to do.  My biggest goal with online college is that it doesn't impede on my life as a mom.  I don't ever want my boys to think that my schoolwork comes before them.  That's easier said than done, especially during the summer with them home.  However, I'm also trying to teach them the importance of school, leading by example.

So there I was yesterday morning, explaining to my children that I had put off a very important research paper.  I needed their help with Ezra.  I needed their help with household chores.  I needed them to give me time and Just.  Please.  Go.  Away.

It doesn't really work that way, though does it?

I got really really angry grumpy with my kids.  I got frustrated.  I had to call Shawn to come home early so he could take over.  I finally finished my paper, but I had a lot of apologizing to do when I was back on Planet Mom.

Sometimes balancing the many hats we wear is really hard.  It's a job in itself keeping track of them.  I place my student hat on my head, telling my children that I MUST get this done, go play, Ezra is napping... Mommy has schoolwork to do!

And the world falls apart.  Avery has a meltdown because he can't find just the right thing he needs, Noah wants the electronics even though chores haven't been done, the baby changes his mind about napping.... In short, my kids need me.

Life doesn't go according to plan.  It never does.  There's a funny proverb:  "Man plans, God laughs." Sometimes I feel as though that's the main message of my life.  I do a lot of planning.  A LOT.  Then God laughs.  A LOT.

I wish I could say I learned my lesson about procrastination, but here I am, blogging instead of working on this week's lessons.  Sigh.