while we wait

I've been thinking about my mom lately.

She died nearly 15 years ago.

I still don't miss her. I miss the idea of a mom, but not my mom. I know I've told you that before, but I wanted to say it again; I think I feel guilty about feeling that way... she was a wonderful, amazing, strong, creative person and the strange this is, my brothers really miss her. They had a bond and a connection with her that I don't think I ever had.

Can I just interrupt myself and say that lately I've been feeling weary? I've been so weepy and washed out...lately I wish I had a mom....

(OK-Judy clears her throat and moves on)

We still don't know if we will ever adopt a little person. We sent our application in and are now waiting to see if we are good enough, rich enough, young enough, enough enough of who-knows-what in the eyes of those who determine these things, to raise another child.

In the meantime, while we wait, God has been talking to me.

The other day I started thinking about a new little person entering our family. A little girl. I thought about her life as an orphan; the abandonment she must feel, the rejection, the loneliness. I was thrilled to think that I could be a momma to someone who so desperately needs one. I could actually picture a little face and chubby little arms around my neck; I could hear a soft voice calling out for momma in the middle of the night, needing comfort or a drink of water. I imagined soft pink pajamas and sweet little kisses on my cheek...

Then I started thinking about those hurts she's living with, even now, this very moment. While I'm here, in the middle of America, cozy, warm, loved, and safe, she is not. What if her heart is so deeply wounded that she shuts it down? What if she closes the door, locks it tight and throws away the key? What if she never, ever allows me to mother her? What if, like me and my mom, there never is a bond or a deep connection?

I never thought about those things when I was pregnant. When I had a baby growing deep in my belly I didn't wonder if he'd love me. It was a given that he would. But the other day I thought about my mom and the little girl we hope to adopt, and her wounds and fears and my heart, and how I closed it off from my mom and the lack of bonding and, and, and, and...all those questions and all those fears and then God said STOP.

Why are you doing this? Why do you want to adopt? Whose needs are you trying to meet? What if she never opens up and trusts you? What if she doesn't even like you? What if you just don't connect? Judy, are you willing to do this for Me? Are you willing to love a little girl, take her in, feed her, teach her, protect her, play with her, be her momma, even if she never ever becomes your daughter? Are you willing to take care of her and love her unconditionally until death do you part just because she's MY daughter and I'm asking you to do this? Regardless of if she ever meets your need to momma? Are you willing to lay down your life and serve her without getting a thing back?

I don't know if we will adopt a little person or if this will come to nothing. I do know God has been busy in my heart, using the idea of adoption to do some disecting and show me some of the uglies I don't like to see and the selfish motives I have for some of the things I do...those were very hard questions to hear, and even harder questions to answer truthfully. It took me awhile and it took a lot of tears but I'm at a place where I'm willing to be willing. I think I'm willing to be used and give because He's asking me to and for no other reason?...

(I do wish He'd use anesthesia when He does this sort-of thing, ya know?)

it takes all kinds

If you were to take my two oldest sons, (there were times by the way, when I wished someone would) and look at their personalities and the paths their lives have taken, you would never think they came from the same family. The strange thing is, they were raised in exactly the same way, used the same school books, went to the same church, listened to the same novels and autobiographies, and taught the same theology. We tried to be consistent with our words, our prayers for each of them, and the way we disciplined them.

However, in many, many ways they are poles apart in the way they think and in how they've approached life.

Our oldest son went to college and likes to have his ducks in a row before he takes the next step. And you know what? He and his ducks are happy living life that way.

#2? He did not go to college, and his ducks sometimes appear to be swimming all over the pond enjoying the water. And again, he and his ducks are happy living life that way.

(Please don't think I'm saying their lives are always hunky dory. They have stresses and challenges and go through hard things just like the rest of us do.)

OK, so, for a few years I sat here on the dock and watched my sons and their ducks and wondered, which way is God's way? How does He want us to live? Are we supposed to line up each little duck and follow them in a straight neat line? Or, is it better to just jump in the pond and play with the ducks? Let them swim around, and see what God does with them?

Sometimes I'd worry and stress about one son and the way he was treating his ducks, and sometimes I'd fear for the other one. Which boy is right?? I could see pros and cons to both ways of living and I could see the logic behind their choices.

Finally, I went to the bible to see what it had to say about men and living life and ducks. What on earth does God want us to do with them?? Are we supposed to line those duckies up or does God want us to toss them in the water and join them for a swim?

After a bit I began to notice something. It takes all kinds of men and all kinds of lives and all kinds of ducks to be a light and salt and husband and provider.

I looked in the bible and found Joseph. Talk about ducks and lining them up! That man was put in charge of saving and storing enough food to feed an entire nation for 7 years. I bet that man's excel spread sheets flapped in the breeze day and night for years while he worked on that project.

Then I thought about Moses. God told him to take the Israelites, well over 600,000 of them, and go. Just jump in the pond, (or desert in this case) and swim. There was no time to organize, no time to plan ahead, no time to pull the old excel spread sheet out or line up the ducks. Just take the ducks and leap.

I had so much peace after I peeked in the bible and spent time with Joseph and Moses-I could see God's hand in their lives, directing them, caring for them, using them...and I noticed the same thing with my sons. There isn't just one way to live with ducks. God is a God of variety and surprise and it takes all kinds of duck owners to accomplish what God wants accomplished.

weaning me

If you've been here very long, or read even some of my posts from the past, you may have noticed I frequently dwell on my mid-life crisis. I have now determined it's going to last longer than any man's ever has. Come to think of it, I've never heard of a momma having a midlife crisis, have you? Am I the only one??

Anyway, I've written about our sons growing up and 2 of them moving out, and I've written about my future. Do I have one? I've written about our emptying nest, and I've written about the sadness that's brought. However, I don't think I've ever shown you the flip side-the good and sweet things that have surrounded the sadness.

I'd like to tell you first of all that there is a difference between the good and the sweet.

The good has been discovering things like:

-our grocery bill is smaller

-the house stays cleaner

-the nest isn't as crowded as it once was-we have a bit of room to spread out our wings

-um...um....surely there are more good things?....

Well then... what about the sweet things? The sweet things that have come have surrounded and surprised me. They've left me speechless and baffled and blessed me more than words can say.

I loved nursing my babies. I loved snuggling with those boys and filling their tummies, knowing that at the same time I was comforting them and filling their hearts. Nursing reassured and relaxed them and more often than not, they would go to sleep as they nursed, feeling safe, knowing they were loved.

But, like all good things, nursing had to end. Weaning them was hard. Being boys, they loved real food, but after a meal they'd want to nurse again. Are you still there momma? Can you please comfort me? Let me know you love me? Are we still a "we"? Weaning them was a step by step process, done slowly and gently so they wouldn't feel abandoned. Once each baby was weaned there was a change in the relationship. We were still a "we" but we both enjoyed our newfound freedom.

There's been a role reversal of sorts as each son has grown. I was the one who needed the reassurance, especially during the few months before and after they moved out. My heart frequently wondered, Are you still there son? Do you still love me? I know you are a man now, but are we still a "we"?

And that's where the speechless, baffled, blessed part comes in. My sons have risen to the occasion and weaned me. They've instinctively known and understood my sadness and have taken care to let me know I am and always will be loved. They pulled away gently and have done countless things to show me I'm still loved; little presents, frequent, frequent hugs, phone calls and visits when life allows. I have no doubt that we are still a "we". There's been a change in the relationship. We are still a "we" but we both enjoy our newfound freedom.

the flip side

I didn't realize (until after I was in bed last night and was too tired to get up and do anything about it) that my last two posts were full of goodbyes and a lumpy throat. I really feel like I need to explain myself.

In the first place, I am not overly depressed by my sons' growing up and leaving. It only takes a moment to read a poem, think back to all the years you've parented, realize how quickly they've flown, have a lump form in your throat, swallow the lump, and there, it's over.

And it only takes a moment to walk down the road with your son, look up at him, notice he now towers over your head, he's maturing, have a lump form in your throat, swallow the lump, and there, that's over. You move on and laugh and plan dinner, and argue about who won the game we all played the night before....I promise, I am not sitting here blubbering all the time.

As a matter of fact, there is a flip side to your sons growing up and moving on. And, just between you and me, I do enjoy that side.

The first thing I noticed when our two oldest moved out was the quiet. No one came home in the middle of the night, flipping lights on, making a late night snack, watching TV....when we fell asleep we actually stayed asleep.

The grocery bill isn't what it used to be and the house stays clean a bit longer than before.

One of the more important things we've noticed is that we've had more time to spend with our other two sons. We're not as "spread out" and tired as we used to be-there's "more" of us to give to fewer of them.

After the initial shock and sadness of having a shrinking family, I also realized that in some ways I have less weight on my shoulders, especially now that our two oldest have married. I still sometimes worry about them, and I'll always pray for them, but now, more than ever, I look at God and say, "Well, those kids are your problem now." I've released them to Him and am learning to trust Him with their lives. They truly are no longer my responsibility and I must admit, there is some relief in that. (Is that weary old age rearing it's ugly head?)

The best part of all of it is that those two oldest sons, and their wives, are becoming our friends. We get together for a meal, or an evening together and we laugh, play games, tease each other...we talk about house projects or trips we'd like to take together...the stress of parenting them is over and new relationships are forming.

Ever since I was a young teenage girl I think my favorite word has been bittersweet; life often is bittersweet, isn't it? I just need to be careful which side of the word I live on, that's all. I could sit here and feed the lump in my throat and let it grow, or I can look at who my sons have become and be thankful.

I just felt like I need to clarify that, especially after my last two posts...

goodbye Peter Pan

I am losing a boy. No, he's not moving out, getting married, or dying of some tropical disease. This boy is growing up. He's been tottering on the edge of man-ness for some time, but he also enjoys spending time with Peter Pan. Do you know what I mean? He never reads my blog, so I think I can safely say, (without rocking his boat) that he has fought growing up tooth and nail but now I see what my son probably doesn't. He is becoming a man. Whether he likes it or not.

(Do you remember being 19? I think 19 is the hardest age to parent. My husband said he was a toad at 19, and I know I was. 19 should be erased and kids should just bound from being 18 to 20. (Several of those teen numbers are a pain, but 19? Yuck.))

Yesterday was....bittersweet. Not only did I see my boy growing up, I saw, in my heart, a young man leaving. I've been through this twice before so I know the signs. They start showing signs of man-ness, then suddenly they are too big to fit in your house. They grow restless and their eye is focused out "there". The whole wide world begins to whisper, come. spread your wings. fly....and then before you know it, empty boxes start appearing and treasured possessions start disappearing...I am so excited to see the man my boy is becoming. So deeply thankful. But it hurts. I didn't expect that. I thought by round 3 this leaving thing would be a piece of cake. I guess you never get used to having major surgery and having parts removed, do you?

Goodness, did I just get side-tracked. I started out wanting to tell you what my son did yesterday to show me he's growing up. Maybe I want to avoid that bit because it showed me something about myself too. I am not the independent, I-don't-need-nobody-no-how person I want to be.

Anyway... you may or may not know I am recovering from back surgery. This recovery was supposed to take 6 weeks and we are now well into 17 months. This recovery has affected our family, our marriage, and the cleanness of our house. My 10 year old told me he can't remember me before I didn't hurt. Needless to say, we all want mommy to avoid another little slip and fall.

And here's another "anyway". I don't get out much in the winter. My life slows down and I'm often, often home, with only one sweet little face to keep me company. This year is even worse because my van is not happy. I'm under house arrest and my man/boy knows it. He knows I need to get out of here once in awhile. He knows I need to see something other than the 4 walls of our home in order to maintain my sanity. He knows I need to see trees and birds and breath crisp, fresh air. Daily if I can. So, yesterday, even though it was only in the 20's, and the roads were snowy and covered with black ice, and the wind was blowing, he only slightly sighed when I asked him to walk with me. Out there.

The sweet part was the way we walked. He stood right next to me the entire time, letting me hold his bicep in a death grip so I couldn't slip. At one point I asked him, "Lovey, are you embarrassed by this? Having your old mother cling to your arm while you walk down the road?"

"No. Why would you think that?" He sounded surprised. This coming from a person who is sometimes consumed with being "cool". Personally, I don't think it's cool for a boy to be seen walking down the road with a middle-aged woman clinging to his arm. But, it never even entered his head to be embarrassed.

Then, after another mile or so, I asked, "Lovey, do you feel like a nurse's aid? Taking the grandma out for a stroll?"

"No, mom. Let's just call me a friendly helper." And he grinned at me.

I grinned back, but I had to swallow two lumps while I did it. One lump of thanksgivng and one lump of sorrow. Am I normal?

goodbye little bits

One of the things that has distracted me from meeting my winter goals has been decluttering, sorting, and pitching. Did I tell you last Saturday I went through the house room by room collecting things? Some of those things went into the garbage, some went to friends and family, and the rest went to Goodwill. Oh! I forgot to tell you how many things: one hundred. It was so much fun and it felt so good, I'm thinking about trying it again this weekend. My husband has already chained down the fridge....

Anyway, back in September I wrote about my clutter. I didn't think I had a lot of it so I was kind-of surprised at how easy it was to gather 100 things to get rid of last weekend. What I thought I had was paper clutter. I won't go into all that again. You can click on the highlighted words if you're interested in reading about my pondering-on-paper propensity.

Anyway again, this week I went through my drawers, notebooks, bible, jewelry box and my purse and gathered all those little bits of paper. I stacked them together on my desk and looked at the pile. No joke-it was almost 1 1/2 inches high. That's a lot of pondering. I've been working my way through that pile, sorting, saving, and pitching. (Nothing there is going to Goodwill.)

I also found something I want to share with you. I wanted to share it and then pitch it, but I don't think that's possible. It's attached to a lump in my throat by an invisible thread.

To My Grown-Up Son

My hands were busy through the day,

I didn't have much time to play

The little games you asked me to,

I didn't have much time for you.

I'd wash your clothes; I'd sew and cook,

But when you'd bring your picture book

And ask me, please, to share your fun,

I'd say, "A little later, son."

I'd tuck you in all safe at night,

and hear your prayers, turn out the light,

then tiptoe softly to the door,

I wish I'd stayed a minute more.

For life is short, and years rush past,

a little boy grows up so fast,

no longer is he at your side,

his precious secrets to confide.

The picture books are put away,

there are no children's games to play,

no goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear,

that all belongs to yesteryear.

My hands once busy, now lie still,

the days are long and hard to fill,

I wish I might go back and do,

the little things you asked me to.

Alice E. Chase

goodbye little bits.....

tiny fingers

That's my baby's thumb being held by his baby's hand.

My son now knows what I've known for 25 years:

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.

Elizabeth Stone

Missing Them...

These are my sons. Four babies turned toddlers, turned stinkers, turned young men. They carry my heart with them wherever they go.

I tried to soak them up when they were small; tried to memorize their little boy voices and their little boy hugs; tried to memorize the way they laughed and the way they told their little boy stories. I tried to absorb into my heart the flowers they placed in my hands and the sweet sweaty kisses they placed on my cheek.

That's #2 in front of the rock. He walked a few feet off the trail and said, "I'm tiowd. I'm staying heow." If you look closely at this photo, you'll spot a tiny dot up at the top. That's #1. He climbed as high as we'd let him go....he's always been that way. Stretching to do more, learn more, pushing himself to accomplish one more goal...

I miss him more than words can say. I miss late our late night discussions over theology, algebra and apologetics. I miss playing scrabble with him and watching him sleep. I miss seeing him intensely going after God, studying the Word...

I miss laughing with him over something only the two of us found funny.

Our second son has always been a conundrum. Intense, thoughtful, sneaky, sensitive, sweet, sarcastic, selfish then selfless, deep and hilariously funny.

You never know what he's going to say or do next, which is one of the best gifts he has...one of the best gifts he gives. I miss him more than words can say. I miss his smile and his hugs, his encouragement and his sarcastic sense of humor. I miss watching him intensely study the way something works and patiently fixing something that was broken.

#3...this boy was a handful and is a heart full. Imaginative, creative, spontaneous, random and tender hearted. He has the ability to make me laugh so hard I practically fall over. We have so much in common sometimes it's mind boggling. Even our weaknesses mirror each other.

I miss him more than words can say and he hasn't taken flight yet. But, in many ways he has... His thoughts and heart and dreams are out there...he's beginning to look away, longing to stretch and move and test his wings...

Then there's this one. The unexpected one. The gift I almost didn't get because I let fear rule my heart for too long a time. This one is an assortment of all of his brothers, plus a unique blend all his own. He's a goal setter; someone who loves to learn and be stretched. He's sweet and sensitive, deep and selfless. He's imaginative and funny and creative. We love to be together crafting, reading, cuddling, talking.....

However, I'm beginning to miss him more than words can say. He's already wanting to stretch his wings; he is slowly moving toward manhood and wanting to be with daddy. He's cutting the apron strings and bruising my heart. I'll let him go though. I won't cling and pull...I won't. Watching them, seeing them grow, observing their lives from a distance...seeing what God can do when I step back...it's a sweet, painful part of mothering.

Letting go and moving on; letting them become and cheering them on....

This One

This one, out of all of them, has surprised me the most.

He was such a funny, stubborn, independent little person.

opinionated.....

sweet and gentle....

he loved being outside, in the woods, alone and quiet, more than anything else in the world. (getting ready for a backpack trip in this pic.)

As he grew, his focus turned outward.

He noticed people and started caring deeply for them, especially children.

He fell in love and got married, thus giving me a daughter. (and a new granddaughter, but I don't have a picture of her on hand)

This boy, as a boy, was so independent. As a newborn he wanted to be left alone. Nursing was for filling his tummy, not security or comfort or warmth. Once his hunger was gone he'd fuss and squirm until I put him in his crib. He'd sigh, snuggle deep into the mattress and go to sleep. See what I mean? Solitude.

Even before he could walk or talk he preferred sitting in a corner, by himself, with a pile of toys instead of interacting with people. As long as we left him to his own devices he was happy.

As a young boy his favorite thing to do was spend hours and hours on our little pond, by himself, in the row boat. He'd look for turtles, fish, bugs and birds, thrilled to be alone dreaming and thinking boy things.

Sometimes I'd stand in our livingroom, looking out the window, watching him row around. "What is he thinking about? Is he praying? Hoping to catch a turtle? Thinking about math?" I'd wonder what he was going to do with his life. I knew it would involve nature and solitude. Maybe a park ranger?

I did know one thing for certain. I wanted him to go to college. As I grew up my mom and I were poor and she struggled constantly to make ends meet. We were never homeless, and never went without a meal, but living like we did was sometimes scary and sometimes painful, and sometimes just plain old hard.

That pattern continued after my husband and I married. He never went to college and we've struggled to make ends meet. We've never been homeless, and never gone without a meal, but living like we have has sometimes been scary, sometimes painful, and sometimes just plain old hard.

Rather than focusing on things eternal, like loving and serving, forgiveness and hope, I allowed fear to pull me and I pushed college. Rather than looking at our son's heart, and his strengths and gifts, and the desire he had to be with children, I pushed college. Rather than trusting God with our son's life, I pushed college.

Thankfully he ignored me. He prayed and sought and studied the Word. The Lord took that strong will, that stubborn, independent boy and now?

Now that boy lives in the inner city, surrounded by lost, hurting children and their lost hurting parents. That boy is seldom alone, seldom outside, seldom in quiet. He spends his days laying down his desires and his life, serving. Showing people there is a God who serves. Showing people there is a God who loves and cares and wants to be involved in their lives. Pointing them to the One who is the only One. The One who can heal and comfort and forgive.

Praying...

When our sons were very young, (they still seem young to me now and 2 of them are in their 20's-but I'm thinking diaper-wearing young) I read an article in a parenting magazine. I don't remember most of what the article said, but one thing jumped out at me. The author of the article said it's a wise thing to pray for you children.

You might be thinking, oh for Pete's sake. I do that nearly every waking moment of my life. But, the article went on and spoke about the wisdom of praying scripture for your child; taking an actual passage right out of the bible and praying it for him.

Please, just take a minute out of your crazy day and read these verses. Pretty please? You won't regret it. Think about your child-put his name in place of all the "yous". Look at all the incredible things you would be praying for your child-things that are eternal; things that have priceless value; things that will give your child a godly focus....

For this reason, since the day we heard about you, we have not stopped praying for you. We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives, so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light. Col.1:9-12

And look at this passage:

So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of this world rather than on Christ. Col. 2:6-8

Here's another one the article suggested praying:

And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God. Phil.1:9-11

And the last one:

I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come. Eph. 1:16-21

I don't always pray scripture for our sons. Sometimes I've only had the brain power to throw out an S.O.S. But, I did write these passages out on recipe cards and put them in my bible. From time to time I will take those cards out and pray them. I pray them for our whole family, not just our sons....

oh those heart strings

One year, rather than a class on how to teach children, I went to a parenting workshop at the homeschool convention. I would have to say that was, by far, the best workshop I ever sat in on.

The speakers were the Quines of Cornerstone Curriculum. Have you ever heard of them? God has blessed them with so much wisdom. I have pages of notes I took, and every word they spoke was worthwhile, but there was one thing they said that went straight to my heart.

"Right now you are setting the tone for a relationship with your child that will last for the rest of your lives."

Whew-don't feel any pressure now, ok?

Thankfully they went on to share some very practical advice on how to set a good, loving, healthy tone for that relationship. They started out by drawing two hearts on the chalk board, with strings tying them together, like this:

One of those hearts is yours, the other, your child's. When you have a baby that baby comes with pre-packaged heart strings and they're all attached to you; millions of them; tiny little lines of love, trust, and need. That baby is absolutely certain you will care for and protect him, regardless of his behavior.

No other person on the planet will have the influence you do on that child. And, with every word you utter, every hug or slap, every look or sigh, you are affecting those tiny strings. You can fray them or sever them, or you can add to them, making that bond between the two of you even stronger.

Harshness will close his spirit; it will cut those precious strings and your hearts will begin to lose that precious connection.

What we need to do is look deeply into our child's heart-and see him the way God sees him. Remember God made that child-He gave your son or daughter gifts and strengths and a character all his own. Look for those giftings and strengths and point them out to your child. Frequently. Look into his eyes and tell him he is unique. There is no one else on earth just like him, nor will there ever be. God created him and God wants to use him to give and love and serve those around him. Give him practical examples of ways God could use his strengths and gifts in the lives of other people. Tell him you're so very proud of him and thankful for him.

Use your tongue to praise your child; encourage him and build him up. He needs your confidence and your trust. Let him know you trust him to make wise choices, even if deep in your heart you're doubtful. He doesn't need to know that. Most children, (and this applies to teens as well) want to live up to your expectations. Trust your child, but really trust the Lord.

Lay that child in God's arms on a regular basis and ask Him to make that child the person God wants him to be. Ask the Lord to help your child make those wise choices. (Your offspring doesn't need to know you're doing that either. That's just between you and the maker of that child.)

Even during times of disciplining your child you can build him up and love on him. That's not easy to do, especially when all you want to do is call the nearest orphanage and hand him over.

Sometimes it takes incredible self-control to discipline a child in love and with patience because usually by the time discipline is needed, your patience is gone. That's when you lay yourself in God's arms and ask Him to do it. Ask Him to help you teach and train your child without breaking his spirit or fraying even one tiny string.

As you go throughout your days, ask Him to help you love your child unconditionally and strengthen those heart strings. Ask Him for the strength to do that day after day after day after day.....it's only through His strength we can do anything.

One of my favorite bible verses is Galatians 6:9. I have it written out on a card and have had that card stuck on the cabinet in our kitchen for years. I guess it's become my life-long parenting verse:

And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart.

My Strange Identity

What would you say if I told you I bought this? At a garage sale. On purpose.

I looked at his sweet little face and thought, "That is me." and brought him home.

My husband thinks I'm nuts-he said that little guy looks like someone from the old TV show, Night Gallery. He wouldn't be surprised if some night that boy picks up his little chair and bashes one of us over the head with it while we're sleeping.

My sons think I'm crazy. "Mom, he is just creepy looking. Be careful, he might stab you at night while you're sawing logs!"

(Just out of curiosity-if I see me in that little boy, and my family sees those things......)

I would like to tell you, before I go on, that I am not a doll person. I don't collect them and don't plan on starting now. There was just something about this one boy. I tried to explain it to my family, but they don't get it. One son practically dissected the poor little guy to see how old he is. Maybe he's an antique and worth some money?

So, now I sit and look at my boy. I ask him, "Why are you me?"

If I couldn't explain it to my family, how on earth can I explain it to you? I'd like to try though.

It would be nice to know someone out there understands what I feel when I look at that doll....

I see a new mother, not quite 25, holding her blue eyed baby boy; she's overwhelmed at God's trust in her. You put this life in my hands? Are you sure I'm up for this?? What if I screw up and he turns out to be a mess of a person because of me? Three more times I would be given God's trust and three more times I would ask God those questions.

I stare at him and I see 75 months of nursing; more than 6 years of my life spent connected to a baby boy, vulnerable eyes looking deep into mine. Those were moments like no other. I'd fill a tummy and that look would fill my heart.

When I look at my boy, sitting peacefully in his chair, I remember all the years of diapers-probably 10 or so if I think about it. Ten years of not-so-sweet moments and ten years of stinky laundry. But, changing all those diapers said something to me. They said, This boy needs you. You are his servant. Serve him whether it's pleasant or not; whether you feel like it or not; whether it's convenient or not. We are all called to serve and lay down our lives. Begin here.

He also reminds me of all the noise, dirt, fighting, boo boos and band aids that go along with mothering sons. I see chubby little legs learning to walk; grubby little fingers holding tightly to mine; cars and trucks, GI Joes, smelly pets, camo, camping, fishing, cowboys and Indians, mud tracked through the house and dirty fingerprints on the walls. I see 21 years of homeschooling: reading boy books out loud, tears over math, the joy of watching someone "get it", hugs all day every day, any time of day. I see boys grown into men and discovering their wings; letting go and now welcoming back. I see God's faithfulness in using me to do what there is no way I could do without Him. I see Him filling in the gaps and bringing good out of brokenness and fear.

I've been mothering boys for exactly half my life. And for some strange, indescribable reason, that doll sums it all up for me. All that I've been and so much of what I've learned is smooshed into his stuffing and his sweet little face. That is why he's me.

When my oldest son was 4 years old he came to me with his heart in his hand. Literally. Oh, he also had a black crayon. He handed them both to me and said, "Write this, momma." So I did.

Even now, with three grown sons, (and one half-way there) I often wonder what I'm writing on their hearts......

roots and wings

This is a picture of our oldest son, taken in the fall of his senior year. Standing next to him is the baby of the family, taken before he even knew what school was.

The quality of this picture leaves much to be desired, but it's still one of my favorite photos. I can't look at it without my heart doing a strange, bittersweet flip flop...

one son looking out, away from the family, so ready to test his wings and fly; the other son just a baby, still so dependent on me, looking around to make sure I was nearby.

I've said it before, but one of my favorite poems about parenting is this:

love them

listen to them

give them deep roots

give them wings

How We Ended Up With A Bear-Setting the Record Straight

In the ten years we've had The Bear, only one person has ever had the bravery to bring the subject up. No one has ever asked us how, or why we have a Bear. No one has ever come right out and asked, "What on earth were you thinking?! Why did you have a baby at 40?! Are you nuts?" Even the guy who mentioned The Bear quoted The Bear's big brother. "Now, Barrett was a surprise wasn't he?"

Good grief. If the boy's big brother doesn't even know the story, and is assuming Barrett was a "mistake"...a "surprise"...it's time to set the record straight. If nothing else, that kid's brothers ought to know why he's here.

In many ways Barrett was a surprise. One doctor even called him a miracle. I was 39 when he was conceived. I have one ovary, had endometriosis, and a "damaged" falopian tube. That doctor said the only reason we were able to conceive a baby is because God wanted that baby conceived. (which is true in all cases but you get the point)

But, there's more to this story than that. He's way more than a miracle. He's an act of surrender, trust, submission, and hope.

It began really, about 19 years ago to the day. (give or take a few) I was pregnant with our 3rd baby. That pregnancy was a nightmare from the git-go. I'll spare you all the details, but it began with me laying on the couch throwing up if I even moved my head and ended with me spying the words, "Judy may need psychiatric help" on my medical chart during one of our prenatal visits.

We'd often wrestled with the whole birth control issue. Is it biblical? Do we, as Christians, have the right or freedom to tell the Creator God how often He can use our bodies to create? Sometimes we looked at birth control as a modern day gift, at other times a curse. If we really trust God and believe He knows what He's doing, can't we just trust Him to determine if and when we have babies?

Well, after that pregnancy I didn't care. I told my husband I was never going to ever have another baby again as long as I lived. And I angrily, fearfully looked God in the face and told Him the same thing. No way are you going to use this body to put another human on the planet. I'm done.

Those words became a wall between me and God. I don't think it was the idea of being pregnant that was the wall; it was me wanting control and telling God what He could and couldn't do with my life. But I was so afraid. Those words, "psychatric help" haunted me. I just couldn't face feeling that crazy again.

Finally, after 8 years of living with that wall between me and God I caved. I knew I had to surrender my will and let God have His. If I "went crazy" again, so be it. We really did want more babies, but my fear had held us back.

To make a long story shortish, I told God, and my husband, I was sorry for taking control and living in fear, rather than trust. We asked God for another baby, but told Him it was completely up to Him whether He gave us one or not. Let me tell you, I was shivering in my boots while this was going on. After one year of waiting and praying Mike and I had a chat. We decided that we'd waited a year for another baby and that was long enough. We weren't getting any younger and maybe we should just be happy with the 3 we had. We decided to go back on birth control and be done. But, it was too late. The Bear was already there, growing inside, we just didn't know it yet.

One doctor, when I was 38, had told me, "If you get pregnant now you'll have a nightmare pregnancy and a down syndrome baby." All through this pregnancy those words haunted me. I kept waiting for the nightmare to begin again and wondered if this baby would indeed have down syndrome.

The pregnancy turned out to be a normal one and so did the baby. The only glitch came when we actually had the baby. He weighed ten stinking pounds! That was a fun experience, let me tell you. And, btw, that's why we named him Barrett. His name is German and means, "Strong as a bear."

After this pregnancy we wondered about birth control again. Should we use it? Do we have the right to use it? We've finally concluded that it's between each couple and God. The bible doesn't seem clear on it, at least to us. So, this time we humbly prayed and said, "God, if it's ok with you, we'd like to be done having babies. We're old and we feel it...." And He said, "OK."

I"m not sure how to end this post...it did help me to write it out. As I re-read what I wrote I noticed there's a pattern in my life. I want control, I wrestle with God, He wins, good comes of it. I want control, I wrestle with God, He wins, good comes of it.
So anyway, that's how we ended up with The Bear.

Suddenly

Dear Dr. Dobson,
I imagine I've written you at least once a week during the past year. (Only in my mind) But this time I'm planning on mailing my letter.
I have 2 sons-Benjamin, 3 years and 8 months old, and James, 1 year and 8 months old.


My oldest son fits your description of a strong willed child, with a few exceptions. He is kind, gentle, calm, and sensitive of others. He just wants his way and he calmly, gently stands his ground, craftily manipulating to get it. I would like to say this is wearing me out.

We live in a small 2 story apartment. The boys share a room. However, we have the room set up so they have most of it to play in. My husband even built a "quiet corner" or "fort" in one corner of the room just for Benjamin. The little door in that corner has a hook-in-eye lock on it and James is NOT allowed in. We put Benjamin's books and favorite toys inside and hung some posters of some of his favorite animals in it.

What a waste of time!

This small boy, whom I love so much, is driving me crazy~ He is like a walking growth on my leg. A questioning, talking-non-stop, demanding-non-stop-attention growth! He follows me from room to room, up and down the stairs; always wanting me to "look Momma!" or asking me what I'm doing, why am I doing it, where am I going....If I say I'm going downstairs to check the laundry and I'll be right back, he still insists on coming with me. He feeds me lines like: "I just miss you mommy." or "I just want to be with you." or "I just want to make sure you're OK."

If I'm hard hearted enough to say no, I can't even get to the bottom of the stairs without him yelling out, "What are you doing Mommy? Why are you down there so long? Are you coming back soon?"

I feel like I'm living in a glorified Hamster cage!!

I won't even go into the sibling rivalry stuff and his methods of pulling me away from my husband. I know it sounds childish, but I want to ignore him so he'll just go away!

My one consolation is that through all this I can see he's got a sharp mind and is quite creative. (I on the other hand, am wondering how long my mind will last.)

I find myself longing for his 21st birthday, or his marriage or something. And I don't want to have that attitude during these special early childhood days.

How much independence should I expect at this age? Is it unreasonable to expect a child of almost 4 to be able to disappear into his pretending for even 20 minutes?

I realize that as a first born, and a boy, he's going to want a lot of my attention. But in the day to day long haul, how do I deal with this? How do I foster independence without hurting him emotionally? How do I do more than barely cope?

S.O.S.
Thank you,
jan
PS Read Hebrews 13:17 in the Ampified Bible-I wish all children would!!
(Obey your spiritual leaders and submit to them, continually recognizing their authority over you, for they are constantly keeping watch over your souls and guarding your spiritual welfare, as men who will have to render an account of their trust. Do your part to let them do this with gladness and not with sighing and groaning, for that would not be profitable to you.)

I thought I wrote that letter yesterday, then suddenly, this morning, my dreams came true.



( By the way, this is a real letter I wrote but never mailed. I've been doing some spring cleaning and found it in an old journal.)

Parenting

My husband and I have decided that "parenting" adult children is like riding a rollercoaster. You strap yourself in and hang on for the ride, but they call the shots. You are left alone in your seat to deal with the ups and downs and sidewayses and all the emotions that go along with the ride.

Mother-in-Law Part Deux

A few weeks ago I wrote a post about Mother-in-Laws. Specifically, I wanted to know how on earth to be one.
I have a new friend who gave me the best advice yet:

Wear beige and shut-up.

If they're old enough to marry, it's their problem.

(Good advice for simply parenting adult children. Or should I say Un-parenting?)

Off He Goes

In less than two weeks our third son will be leaving us. He will walk out the door with thoughts of rafting, meeting new friends, caving, and late nights without "The Parents" telling him to get some sleep. He will be just slightly nervous about being so far away from home for the first time in his life, but thrilled about being so far away from home for the first time in his life.
Two weeks later he will come home, exhausted. Thoughtful. Overwhelmed. Prayerful and challenged. Hopefully.

When our oldest son was entering high school, we sat down and made a list of "extra" requirements (things that aren't "legally required" but are "dad & mom" required) in order for him to receive his diploma. Things like:

-know how to change the oil and a flat tire on a car
-be able to do your own laundry
-know how to cook at least a few meals
-be able to sew a button on a shirt
-pay your bills and follow a budget

There are other things on the list, but I'm sure you get the idea. Along with that list, we made it a requirement that he, (and his brothers) must attend a two week Summit conference at least once prior to graduation.

We want our sons to know what they believe and why they believe it. More and more young people are leaving the church and their relationship with Christ once they leave home and we don't want any of our sons to become one of those statistics.

Just the other day the importance of knowing what he believes and why was slammed home to #3. He was at work, plugging along doing his own thing, when one of his fellow employees suddenly asked, "So, do you believe all that Jesus ----?"
"Yes, I do."
"Why?!"

Our oldest son has been in college for the last 4 years and he's run into the same kinds of questions. Some people simply want to argue or defend their "unbeliefs", while others are genuinely searching for answers they can trust. Here are just a few of the questions he's been asked while attending college:

What is a human being? What is our purpose?

What happens to a person when he dies?

How do we know what is right and wrong?

If God is a God of love, why are there so many bad things going on in the world?

Is there a God and what is He like?

How do you know the bible is true?

What if you're wrong?

Is Jesus God and God's Son? How can that be?

Is Satan real?

Is the Bible accurate in all of its teachings?


I must admit my faith is based pretty much on "faith" alone. Our oldest son's faith is a mixture of faith and logic. He can sit and reason with people and answer their toughest, deepest questions with logical, practical facts as well as faith.

If someone were to corner me for a little chat, I would have a dreadful time trying to answer those kinds of questions. Summit does have a one week course for educators and I've toyed with the idea of going once our little guy isn't quite so little. In the meantime we'll send our sons, one at a time...

An Idea Whose Time Has Come. Not.

OK. So my 17 year old son and I have been reading a book called Best Friends For Life by Michael and Judy Phillips. Have you read it? It's the first book I've ever read, in my entire life, that brought on a Panic Attack.

That, however, is my fault; the Phillips had nothing to do with it.

The book was written for parents and their teenage children to read and discuss together before their children hit a marriageable age.

It starts out with statistics. They discuss the staggering number of failed marriages in America today and then go on to present some things you can do with your children to help them not become one of the "marriage failures".

That was all fine and dandy. So far, so good. Nothing to panic about, right?

According to the Phillips, there are 4 ways to obtain a spouse. Dating, courtship, betrothal, or an arranged marriage. They discuss those 4 options in detail and lean heavily on courtship. We've always thought that was perhaps the best way to go and have frequently discussed that option with our sons as they've "aged".

OK-no panic attacks. Yet. The Phillips waited until nearly the end of their book to drop their little bomb shell. And it hit me right between the eyes.

They really feel that a young man or young woman should spend, at the least, one year "courting" the person they're interested in marrying. Doing that gives the young people plenty of time to get to know each other. To see each other in all kinds of circumstances and situations so they know what that person truly is like-a girl would see how that guy treats his parents, handles his money, works at a job, serves at church, etc. and vice-versa. (That's logical, and still no sign of a panic attack...)

Here's where I got hit: they suggest that either after that year, or at some point during that year, the boy and girl switch places. No, I don't mean they start cross dressing. I mean the young lady would go live with "his" parents and he would live with "her" parents. For. One. Full. Year. In doing that they could really get to know each other's families and learn about their lives and how they do things, etc. etc.

I laughed at first. How ridiculous! That's absurd. NO ONE could just drop their life and go live with someone else's parents for a year!

My next reaction was, "Whew! I'm glad my sons would never go for that. Can you imagine how inconvenient it would be to have some strange girl move in with us for a year?!" (B.-you are not strange and you will always be welcome in our home if you ever want/need a place to live!)

It actually took a couple days before my third reaction set it, and that was a Panic Attack.

I started imagining my son's "special someone" moving in with us. The reason the Phillips suggest this is so a girl could learn from her future mother-in-law, (me in this instance) how to cook and clean, how to raise children, prepare lesson plans and teach children, and be a wife. Ignoring the fact that it's her parents' job to teach her most of those things, I imagined me doing it.

It would be like living with a mirror in front of me all the live-long day! She would know everything about me! She would see all the times I ignore the grunge on the windowsills and blog instead. She would see the crumbs I don't "see" under the toaster and the laundry I "forget" to fold. But more than that, she would see all my inside uglies. The times I spend ranting and raving instead of forgiving. Or the times I wander around, feeling very fearful of the things going on all over the planet, rather than turning to the Lord for comfort. I would be training her and what kind of trainer would I be? It would be her job to follow me around and learn from me. I know that's what our kids do, but somehow, after years of living with each other, I think parents and children can develop selective hearing and sight. Our kids learn from us, but the boys can just look at me and think, "Oh, thar she blows. I'm outta here!"
Not so with a stranger shadowing you all day with the specific purpose of learning how to do whatever it is you do.

It was a very, very convicting thing for me to imagine. And I wonder why it's easier for me to picture "her" seeing all my uglies and panic, all the while knowing that the Lord is familiar with all my ways and I can ignore that.....