The Perfect Baby

Yes, I know there's really no such thing as the perfect child.  Each and every one of us are perfectly imperfect, right?  

However, I will never tell a new mother her beautiful baby is anything less than perfect.

Throughout her child's life, she will worry.  She will wonder.  She will have plenty of people telling her otherwise.  Doctors, well-meaning friends, not-so-well-meaning friends, and even complete strangers, teachers, media, society and judgmental nincompoops, all with their own advice, observations and opinions, will tell this mom her child is not perfect.  They will point out flaws, diagnoses, delays, and ask, "What's wrong with him/her" or "Shouldn't you get that checked out?"  My personal favorite is,  "My cousin's sister's dad's brother's second cousin's gerbil's mom's kid had that (autism, big ears, Down's Syndrome, knobby knees, cancer, freckles, red hair, seizures, purple hair, ADHD, crossed eyes, diabetes, extra toes, asthma, a cowlick...), and he drank this special water and it cleared right up!"  

Mama, your baby is perfect.  I don't care what the doctors are telling you, I don't care what strangers and friends are pointing out, I don't care, I don't care, I do not care--because no matter what, your baby is made in God's image.  Your precious child is made just the way God intended, just for you, for His work, and in His eyes, your beautiful, precious baby is just perfect.

I will never, ever tell you anything less.  Your baby is absolutely perfect. Your child is now, and always will be, perfectly made by our Father Himself, I don't care what anyone tells you.

Hope

I have hope.

We've been through a lot.  As a family, as individuals.  (I will not get into what Shawn has been through, as that is not my place.) I live in chronic pain.  Some days are better than others, but even my worst days are still better than someone else's worst day. I battle depression and anxiety.  Our marriage nearly failed, but we fought for it, and here we are; it's not perfect by any means, but we're worth it.  Our oldest son has conquered Asperger's Syndrome and ADHD, and now we are going through a second diagnostic process with our middle child.  Our youngest child was born with multiple heart defects that God healed.  We battled infertility, and God won, giving us two more boys medical science told us we'd never have.  To top it all off, twelve years ago, medical science predicted I would be dead by now.  At the time, I almost, selfishly, did what I could to help that prediction along.  

I have hope.

More importantly, I have GOD.

Without God, I am nothing.  NOTHING.  Without God, I do not have hope.  Without hope, I have nothing.  NOTHING.

I will be honest with you, as always, and admit that for a long time, I did not have hope.  I did not want God.  I was angry at Him.  I wanted to be a victim.

I am no longer that person.

I have hope.

I have hope for the hopeless.  That sounds cliche, but I do--when someone loses all ability to hope, they need someone else to hang on for them.  I remember the people who prayed for me and over me, the people who would not give up, those who hoped for me.  I owe them my life, literally.  So now it is my turn, my honor and blessing, to pray for those who have lost hope.  I have hope that whatever diagnosis, or diagnoses, turn up for our son, we will conquer them just as we did for our oldest.  I have hope that the look of pain and exhaustion on my dear friend's face will turn to joy, peace and rest.  I have hope that our world, and country will right itself.  I have hope that no matter what my children choose to do in life, God will protect them. I have hope that my prayers are heard, and answered as my Father sees fit.

I have hope.

Faith in Humanity

As I've mentioned before, Noah runs cross country for his high school team.

I cheer for everyone. Yes, yes, yes, I cheer for our team a little louder, and my own kid a little louder than that.   That said, our family cheers for everyone, no matter the team colors.  Let's face it, everyone deserves to be cheered for.  These kids work hard. They bust their butts.  Have you smelled my kid when he gets in the car after practice???  These kids workout in all kinds of weather, and they do all kinds of difficult activities to prepare for their meets. I'm the wife and the mom of runners, and I see what a difficult sport it is.  It feels good to be cheered on. It's a moral booster.  And really--they're all doing something I won't be doing in a million years.  So, I cheer for everyone.  I hang out until the last kid comes through each turn, while Shawn runs ahead to catch Noah at the next one (have I mentioned that cross country is not a sedentary spectator sport???).  That last runner deserves it perhaps the most.

Another couple from an opposing team noticed this the other night, and smiled.  Good turns, you know?  Later, I noticed their son was among the first to come through the finish line, and their entire team finished early on.  I also noticed where their team was from, and they had over an hour's drive home.  They could've left then--their son was finished, their team was finished.  But, they noticed one of our own was the very last runner.   And, they stayed.  And, they learned our runner's name.  This young man was a good 12-15 minutes behind the second to the last runner.  They stayed and cheered, calling him by name. It brought tears to my eyes--this is what it means to be good parents, to set good examples, to be good team players and to show good sportsmanship, and really, to just be good humans.

Afterwards, I went over and thanked them.  I shook their hands, told them what it meant to me, and thanked them for taking the time to make the difference and set the example.

I beg you--next time you are in the stands screaming your head off in the stands and on the sidelines for your child's team, remember the other team(s).  Remember the underdog.  Remember that everyone, EVERYONE, deserves to be cheered on, no matter what team they run or play for.

The Word Is Kindness

I often shop at Walmart.  Two weeks ago, I had a really bad experience with a cashier there.

I've given it, and her, way too much head space since then.  Half of you are going to ask, "Who broke you????" and half of you are going to wisely advise me to just let it go.  This was fully on her, and not on me at all. It was her issue, not mine.  And yet, I've made it mine.  And I really dislike that about myself.  She was nasty and mean, calling me names under her breath.  I'd given her no reason to be this way towards me.  I was polite and pleasant, even through her abuse.  Contrary to my sarcastic and cynical personality, I did not give in to the words going through my head--instead, she reduced me to tears.  And I really dislike that about myself.  I'm stronger than this.  I'm bigger than this.  I'm nearly 40 years old.  I should be beyond allowing other people to make me feel this way about myself!  I felt pathetic.  I felt shamed.  Why did I allow this?  I wouldn't put up with this sort of this behavior from a stranger toward my children!  I wanted to report her to her manager, I wanted to say something to her.  I did not--what if she's trying to support a family?

I've spent the past two weeks trying to prove her wrong in everything she said.  As I've gone around town, as I've lived out my life, hearing her words in my head, I've been friendly, smiley, helpful and happy with everyone I've come across.  I've wanted to shout, "See?  I'm nothing like what you tried to declare over me!"

Today, I had a blessedly different experience.  A gentleman pulled up behind me in line with hamburger buns--hamburger buns.  Behind my two weeks worth of groceries for five people.  He laughed when I apologized, pointed at Ezra and told me he was the reason he wanted to be behind us.  As he helped me unload all my groceries and entertain my toddler, he asked just exactly who it is I'm feeding with all that food.  "Jackals.  Rabid.  Hungry.  Jackals."  We even had the cashier laughing and joking with us!

As I went to other stores to finish up my errands, I continued to greet other people and ask after the cashiers' days.  One cashier thanked me for doing so.  I replied, "We're all human."  I didn't know what else to say--that's where it all begins and ends.  We're all human.

I don't know what was going on in that cashier's head two weeks ago.  I don't know if something I was wearing or did or said rubbed her the wrong way, or if she was just having a bad day.  I don't know if my amount of groceries annoyed her.  What I do know is that her behavior is on her, and my own behavior is on me.  Everyone has their struggles, and it seems maybe she has more than her fair share, and what she needs is kindness.

So, as you go about your day, I encourage you to remember this--everyone has their own struggles.  And everyone deserves kindness.

The Word is Gratitude, the Place is Home, the People are Family

Yesterday after church I needed to hand my toddler off to someone so I could go potty. I tossed him to a friend of ours, someone Ezra had bonded with (and vice versa) on our missions trip and ran to the bathroom.  When I came out, our friend had Ezra snuggled into his neck, a smile on his face, their eyes closed, rocking back and forth, as his wife rubbed Ezra's back.  All three of them looked like they were in heaven.  I stood and watched with gratitude for just a minute, not wanting to break the moment.  For me, it was just as much bliss to behold as it was for them.  Our friends handed Ezra back with a kiss and an extra squeeze.

The week before, I unceremoniously tossed Ezra to another friend so Shawn, Noah, Avery and I could participate in tug of war.  Just a few minutes before that, I had looked up from a conversation to see our children's director rescuing him from the chaos of the children's games, planting him firmly and safely on her hip, just like he belonged there.

My older two boys bonded with several of the men on our missions trip.  Avery earned a nickname from one of them, and seeks him out at church each week, grinning and laughing and carrying on.  Noah learned many skills from one of the gentlemen who worked patiently with him.  As I watch my kids and these men each week, I realize that it's not just these men who are filling voids...

I see the way our church wraps itself in deep, deep love around those in need.  There is love, there is covering one another, there is picking up where someone else needs to leave off.  There are lives saved. There is making sure no one is left alone.  I am honored, humbled and blessed to be part of this extended family who surrounds itself around those suffering loss, illness and other needs.  I am humbled to be part of a family who takes prayer to the altar, to our knees, to the streets, and to wherever else it is needed for others.  There is never a shortage of someone willing to do whatever is necessary.

These are the moments I'm grateful for.  Each week, I say prayers of gratitude for those who speak life into our children's lives, and into our lives, as well.  As I stand during worship, I look among our friends and my knees shake and my eyes water with gratitude for them.  I cannot believe how blessed we are.  I cannot believe how much we get to be a blessing in turn.  I am grateful for those who help me herd the church baby (Ezra!) through the lobby and keep him safe (based on this post, you must think I frequently lose my child in church....) as he heads for the stairs, the elevator, the vending machines and other dangers in his quest for independence.  I'm grateful to the women and teenagers who serve lovingly as babysitters for our many connection groups.  I'm grateful to the men and women who serve just as lovingly on Sundays and Wednesdays in the Sunday school classes and youth group.  I'm grateful for our pastor and his wife, for all the work and dedication they put into everything they do.  I'm grateful for our worship leaders and praise band--all they do to get the services started off on the right note (haha).  Our media specialist works tirelessly to make sure each week's announcements, and all of the necessary videos are just right, and sending out the message God wants us to hear.  I'm just grateful to be able to be part of such an amazing church family where there is always love, and always an extra set of hands.

I'm an emotional person, so you know there are times I cry as I pray these prayers of gratitude.  This is home.  This is family.   This is church.