Remembering What Our Souls Know Well

This afternoon I went running.  I was feeling not-so-good and really, really full.  Like of food.  I was also feeling like I just can't get the Christmas decorations or any decorations to look like those other gals in the neighborhood do.  I was feeling completely uncreative and unable to make my home look inviting and warm.  I was feeling like I shouldn't have snapped at that kid who was trying to tell me something when I was clearly writing an important email. (Either that or trying to find a lamp online.  Truth.)  I was feeling like I must have gone incredibly wrong at some point since one of my kids told me he doesn't like to read.  I was feeling like maybe when I was with my family over Thanksgiving break, it was all too hurried.  Maybe I flitted around and gave only a bit of myself to each person.  Maybe I didn't sit still and look each one in the eye and listen.  Maybe I should've helped with the dinner more.  Maybe I should've played with my own kids more.  Maybe I should've gotten in touch with my high school friends more.  Maybe, once again, I just was not enough.

Then I changed course, not only with where my feet were running, but with where my mind was running.  I stopped thinking about all my mistakes and started to talk with God about the simplest things that were okay about me.  I thanked God that my knee didn't hurt and that my heart pumped and that my feet moved one in front of the other and that my breaths went rhythmically in and out of this body.  This body, that for so many, many years I hated and liked and hated and liked depending on what one shining, red digital number on a scale told me.  I thanked Him that I can walk and talk and run and laugh and feel awesome.  I even thanked Him that I can cry and worry and feel really crappy, too, because it reminds me.  It reminds that I feel awful after, in the selfless act of saving my son from anaphylactic shock and in the equally selfish act of eating my feelings, I put away four mini bags of peanut M&Ms.  I thanked him that even when I mess up, even when I don't do everything (or anything) right, He made me better than I think I am.  I thanked Him for reminding me of the exact verse that I wrote about my sweet, new, baby cousin, Neeley Kate.

"I will praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  Marvelous are Your works.  And that my soul knows very well." - Psalm 139:14

I think our problem, people, is that we forget how wonderfully made we are. We forget how marvelous are His works. This world is full of amazing people who don't know that they are amazing.   I think maybe that's where all the anger and the bitter and the hate that we see out there in the world sometimes is rooted. I think that's where all these self-esteem/self-confidence/selfie-selfie-self(ish) issues are rooted. They are rooted in the forgetting. We forget that we are enough, that we do enough and that we have enough. And not just enough, folks. Marvelous are Your works? Wonderfully made? That sounds like more than just enough.

And why do we women do this?  I'll tell you what, I think our men do it, too.  They just don't tend to blab it all out there like we (or maybe just I?) do. Maybe it's because we're broken.  All of us.  Even those of us who have affirming, supportive parents and loving, generous spouses.  Because no one is affirming and supportive and loving all of the time.  And then there's our culture which will chew us up and spit us out and fill us with shame if we can't live up to its standards of money or beauty or success. You know what I mean, right?  All that stuff we got in our mailbox today?  That Pottery Barn catalog.  That Victoria's Secret miracle/wonder/fake! business.  That Christmas Card with that gal's kids who you are sure didn't have to be bribed with a lifetime supply of Happy Meals to smile for the camera.  Kelly Ripa and her buff arms and her Electrolux oven.

Sometimes we just get down on ourselves for silly things. I'm not naive enough to think that it's all silly things though.  I know for some people, it's that someone else brought you down, and unfortunately, it might have been someone who was supposed to love you to the moon and back. Sometimes it's because those people forgot to tell you how wonderful you are. Sometimes it's because those people told you the flat-out opposite. Sometimes when that happens, we take that hurt in us and turn it toward someone else. 

So, what if the things you are ashamed of are bigger than feeling inadequate about Christmas decorating or that your jeans are too tight?  What if what is broken inside of you is not so simple?  Maybe you've been hurt deeply and in turn, you have deeply hurt someone else.  Maybe you have made mistakes that you can't easily mend.  Maybe the choices you made didn't bring you what you thought they would.  Maybe things just didn't turn out the way you wanted them to turn out.  Whatever you've done that wasn't amazing doesn't have to define you.  It doesn't have to follow you.  Maybe you just can't seem to remember that He will not turn you away, NO MATTER WHAT. 

See?  It's the forgetting.  Maybe we can't remember how marvelous are His works.  How wonderfully made we are.  There is always room to turn.  There is always a fork in the road.  There is always, always grace.  There is always forgiveness from Him.  He wants us to know how wonderful and marvelous we are and can be.  He wants us to know that we can act that way, too.  He wants us to know that we will continue to fail and He'll continue to be there when we get up and say we're sorry and try again.

How about we think more about little Neeley Kate?  The world ahead of her.  The good, decent world ahead.  A world in which she hasn't made any mistakes.  A world in which she doesn't know the mistakes of others.  It is so easy to see that Neeley is marvelous and wonderful.  It is so easy for Neeley to see how marvelous and wonderful is her world.   Could we go back to sweet Neeley's perspective?  Could we feel we are the apple of someone's eye?  Could we feel that the world is shouting praises about our mere presence here, even in the midst of its brokenness?  Could we be a little, bright, pink bundle of promise and light in a dark place?

Maybe it wouldn't be so hard.  Maybe we could just decide.  We could just decide to forgive the mistakes we've made.  We could forgive the mean.  Sometimes that involves forgiving our very own voices.  Sometimes it involves forgiving someone who hurt us.  If what Beth Moore says is true and "mean has a history", maybe we have to forgive the mean and maybe the mean have to forgive their history.  Could the angry or the sad or the pained let that muck flow out and replace it with, if not some happy, just some calm?  Could we let the bitterness and disappointment melt and could we just sit down and soak in the puddle of grace? 

It isn't about self-esteem.  It isn't about thinking that we are "all that".  It's about knowing who we are and to whom we belong.  It's not about thinking that we make no mistakes.  It is about knowing that He makes no mistakes.  It's knowing that when we feel less than marvelous and even when we behave less than wonderfully, He waits with open arms.  He waits for us to acknowledge that we made a mess of it and we need a little clean up.  He's just waiting.  Let's change our course and run to Him.  Let's stop forgetting how marvelously and wonderfully He made us.  Today, let's work on remembering what He wants our souls to know well.

I don't know who I am anymore

Y'all.

Yesterday I did all kinds of grown up things.  I made a big breakfast for my kids with eggs and bacon and cinnamon rolls.  Maybe that's no big deal in your house, but that is like Christmas morning on Tuesday around here.  I called the Loudoun County government about registering my car and pressed "1" for this and "4" for that and finally got a real person.  It was so much fun you wouldn't have believed it.  I also made calls to the eye doctor, a roof construction guy and a pesticide company.  Again, SO.MUCH.FUN.

Then I was really responsible and picked up some reeds for Joe's saxophone which he has only asked me about for a week.  I forgot to get the protractor.  I put gas in the car. I bought some cute Christmas pjs for my niece and nephew.  I sat with all of the other parents at the Honor Roll assembly.  I held my applause until all the names were read and all that polite stuff.  I finished my Bible Study for the week on 1 Kings 19-20.  I made a dinner with vegetables and protein.  I took one kid to basketball practice.  Then I took two kids to a Youth Group event.  Then I snuggled up with my two oldest and read The Outsiders aloud to them because I wanted to read it again and I thought that would be good bonding parent/sons stuff.  Responsible.  Loving.  Supportive of my family. I didn't even write that much.  I started a post about trying to see ourselves as God sees us and understanding our worth or something really sweet like that.

Responsible. Supportive.  Loving.  Mature.

All day I went around doing that stuff and I didn't even know that all day long I could've been preparing because last night there was a one time showing of this Bon Jovi MOVIE. 

Let me just type that again.  A ONE TIME SHOWING.  SELECT CITIES.  ONE CITY WHICH IS 20 MINUTES FROM MY HOUSE.

Y'all.  I had no idea.  NO IDEA.  I haven't read the "Arts and Entertainment" section of The Washington Post in a long while.  I left my People magazine on the airplane.  Who does that?

I was being responsible, loving, supportive.  And you know what else?  Old.  Old with reasonable bangs and no electric blue eyeliner.

I was frantically searching my Iphone late last night for the showtimes, just in case, and telling my husband the tragic events that had occurred.

So he said with shame and disgust, "Well, I certainly hope you're proud of yourself."

And when I turned around to look at him, he was holding his fingers in the shape of an L on his forehead.  He's so sweet.

So now, I'm going to take to my bed which has clean sheets on it because I am all caught up on my laundry.  For real.  I'm going to blast my Ipod full of "Wanted Dead or Alive" and "She's a Little Runaway" and try to figure out how my 17 year old dreams of never missing a Bon Jovi event went up in smoke while I was being so shamefully adultish.

On second thought though, I do have to pick up that protractor and I guess I better do that.  But first, I'm going to style my hair, just like this.

Grateful Daybook: Monday, November 26, 2012

Outside my window:
32 degrees
I am thinking:
about the 500 emails in my inbox screaming at me about Cyber Monday.  They are annoying me.  I've never once shopped on Black Friday, but I'm in my pjs and it's warm in here and 50% off EVERYTHING at JCrew?  Really?  Darn you, Big Marketing American Greedy Consumerism.  Why is it so hard to delete you?
I am thankful:
for a wonderful week of family, especially on Friday night when we had twenty-six people holding hands in a circle (number 27 was in her baby swing) giving thanks for the overwhelming abundance of His grace, His blessings, His forgiveness and a family's love that binds together over time and space.  Love really does endure and it never ever fails.
In the kitchen:
coffee and a certain 14 year old's forgotten lunch.
I am wearing:
a friendship bracelet that I made with the sweetest, smartest five year old little girl ever.  It is going to have to get grubby and frayed enough to fall off on its own because I'm not taking it off.  I also know of three big boy cousins who are sporting their pink, blue and purple bracelets today.

I am going:
to bring the previously mentioned lunch to the school office because I just got a text saying how much someone loves me and how sorry someone is that he forgot his lunch.  Yes, I am a SUCKER.
I am wondering:
if there is anything more adorable than a bunch of rowdy boys struck gentle and still and completely in love with a six pound bundle of pink.

I am reading:
Icy Sparks by Gwyn Hyman Rubio
I am hoping:
that the Texas Longhorns will find someone that can MAKE SOMETHING HAPPEN like my man, Colt McCoy used to do.  We lost to TCU, y'all.  TCU. (Yes, I stood by myself in University Co-op in Austin on Tuesday and took this photo.  I am a dork.  Hubby is lucky I didn't buy the thing and sit Colt in the airplane seat next to me on the way back home.)

I am looking forward to:

bundling up and running off a serious Thanksgiving food hangover.  Well, "looking forward to" is a stretch lie. 

I am praying:
prayers of gratitude.
A favorite quote poem for today:

There is no vocabulary

For love within a family, love that's lived in

But not looked at, love within the light of which

All else is seen, the love within which

All other love finds speech

This love is silent

-TS Eliot

I am pondering:

what luck to have family from California to Texas to Virginia and even to Brazil who get together and laugh like we have never been apart.


A verse for today:
"Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good;  His love endures forever." - 1 Chronicles 16:34
On my Ipod:
THE BEST CHRISTMAS CD EVER  #3 and #11 are my favorites.  Get it.
One of my favorite things:
finding this stow-away 3 year old little boy's sock in the pile of big boy socks coming out of the dryer this morning.  It is rare that laundry makes me happy.  When I found this little sock I could just hear that little boy's giggle ringing in my ear and that made me giggle, too.

A few plans for the week:
Tearing out all the Christmas decor ideas from the Pottery Barn catalog because we all know that the baby Jesus is in the business of making miracles happen during this season.  I believe.
A peek into my day:
I'm thinking of blowing this photo up poster size.  Y'all have a good day now, ya hear?



Daybook idea from http://www.thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/

{this moment}: Teamwork

{this moment}  A Friday ritual.  A single photo - no words - of a moment from the week.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment.  A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. - Soulemama

Giving Thanks for All the Y'alls

I am with my people and I don't have time to write much because I've got so much to do. 

*I have to jump in bed between my mom and dad and read the Dallas Morning News with them.
*I have to be at a tea party picnic very soon.
*I have to pretend I'm not a boy mom and go sit down with the directions from the Friendship Bracelet Making Kit so that I can finish the bracelet that my niece and I started earlier today.  The problem is that I'm pretty sure that Friendship Bracelet Making involves some sort of scientific formula.  I didn't realize you had to have worked at NASA to figure out how to do it.
*I have to go in the kitchen and help just enough for my mom to kick me out of there before I start a fire.  But I'll stick right next to her anyway because we are like peas and carrots.
*I have to whisper and giggle and trade clothes with my sister. 
*I have to go quote lines from stupid movies with my brother and laugh until my stomach hurts.
*I have to hold two new babies and hug two mommas who I held when they were babies. 
*I have to throw a ball with a different little red haired boy. 
*I have to laugh at my dad's jokes because they are so dumb that they are downright hysterical. 
*I have to run out to buy Texas Longhorn gear because the Target and the Sports Authority and the Dick's Sporting Goods have that stuff right there in front of your face!  And that is HEAVENLY because in my mind, heaven is full of Longhorn gear.  There is no Virginia Tech or Redskins stuff to be found, y'all!
*I have to stuff myself with my grandmother's cornbread dressing recipe that is so much better than anything else I've ever tasted in my life. 
*I have to soak in the happiness of having all of my people in one place . . . in one place where it is 80 degrees outside today.  Seriously.

I will leave you on this fine, warm Thanksgiving Eve with this clip of the great Tami Taylor of Friday Night Lights because I think it sums up everything for which I will be giving thanks tomorrow.  Because it's people. It's my people in my little world, but it's lots and lots of other people, too.  New people, old people and people I have never met.  I am thankful for those who have taken time out of their lives to read these rambling words that pour out of my heart and settle my soul.  So many of you have been so very, very kind. Thanks from the bottom of my heart for reading and for your sweet responses to my writing.  I am humbled and grateful for ALL THE Y'ALLS.

"I gotta go!" Daybook: Monday, November 19, 2012

Outside my window:

there is an airplane seat with my name on it just down the road and I've gotta hustle, so this has gotta be quick.

I am thinking:
that as usual I packed too much footwear.

On my iPod:
 I do love you, Virginia and I love your people because now your people are my people, too.  This is the thing though.  We Texans, despite that unfortunate cheerleader mom murder debacle and the 114 degree August days, imagine that everyone wants to be a Texan.  I think it makes the husband a little bit tired.  Still, Lyle Lovett and I will just keep on believing it and singing about it.  It's just that Y'ALL AREN'T FROM TEXAS



I am going:
HOME, y'all!

Which means that . . .

I am feeling:
Just exactly like this:

*

 

 

and I didn't even pack my roller skates. 

 

"BE JOYFUL ALWAYS;  PRAY CONTINUALLY;  GIVE THANKS IN ALL CIRCUMSTANCES, FOR THIS IS GOD'S WILL FOR YOU IN CHRIST JESUS."

-1 THESSALONIANS 5:18

 

 *Thanks to a friend from my hometown who allowed me to steal this photo of pure bliss from her Facebook page.  I have no idea who this little girl is, but I know that she is so thankful for her circumstances, since it was clearly a God-ordained circumstance that brought her those roller skates!  Can you EVEN stand it?  Have you ever seen such a big bowl of happy in your entire life?  I know. Doesn't she make you just full of glee?  Either that or you're like Kyle and you think she's creepy.  Just choose happy.  You're welcome.  I gotta goooooooo!!!

 

Daybook idea from http://www.thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/

{this moment}: in which this blog gets as political as it ever will

{this moment}  A Friday ritual.  A single photo of a moment from the week.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment.  A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Drew had to choose which animal to be in the 2nd grade program.  Our boy chose the elephant.  How 'bout that?  He doesn't even realize that he is the product of two Young Republicans who fell in love working to get George H.W. Bush re-elected twenty years ago. (Perhaps, there was too much love and not enough work.  We lost that one, too. *sigh*)

Have a blessed weekend, everyone!!

Big, Fat Losers

This is what went down while I was mixing up the homemade whole wheat flaxseed infused waffles toasting up the Eggos this morning.   There was an argument among two boys about SportsCenter.  Shocking.  I know.  The dilemma was surrounding the immensely crucial matter of who actually dunked the basketball in that clip from the Celtics game.  One says Rondo, one says Joseph.  Back and forth, back and forth.  With my head-splitting and ears-burning, I gripped the counter and stared at those waffles willing myself not to scream something like the following:

"Hey, maniacs.  ONE of you is WRONG.  ONE of you is going to feel really embarrassed when you realize that you were arguing like this was the most important matter under heaven and you were WRONG.  ONE of you is always wrong.  Sometimes it's the big one and sometimes it's the smaller one.  Over time, I'm pretty sure that there has been an equal amount of wrongness between the both of you.  I also would like to point out that you are both equally ANNOYING.  So, you might want to cut your losses right now and ZIP IT!" 

I didn't say anything though because for some reason I had iron will and self-control this morning. Or maybe I was just too tired from staying up and watching Parenthood and crying about how Kristina's mom won't come to be with her for her chemo treatment and stressing out about the really bad relationship choices that both of Sarah's kids are making.  The apple doesn't fall far apparently.  Keep your clothes on, people.  Anyway . . .

Suddenly, one of my geniuses realized that it is 2012 and there is a little maneuver that is called REWIND IT.  And guess what?  Suddenly, there was silence except for one barely audible, "oh" and then another barely audible, "oh".  The guy who dunked the basketball was a 3rd party . . . some guy named Jeff Something.  And then there was a moment of pure joy for mom . . . that moment when your pompous little jokers realize that they are BOTH BIG, FAT LOSERS!  HA! and I didn't have to say a word.

Only slightly better than my happy dance, was that was that there was no more arguing and somewhere I think they might have learned a lesson.  Maybe, not one that will stick, but still.  They both started laughing.  I fully expected the guy who said "Joseph" to start a second argument saying that he was more right and/or less wrong than his brother due to the alphabet and all.  It didn't happen.  They went off to the bus together, two big ol' losers, walking side by side, in all their loser glory. 

And that little moment of tranquility and love in the Skinner home reminded me of this genius article I read a few months ago called "Marriage is for Losers".

The writer states: 

"If marriage is going to work, it needs to become a contest to see which spouse is going to lose the most and it needs to be a race that goes down to the wire."

He points out that this concept is wholly counter-culture.  It's actually a bit anti-American and, don't get me wrong, I DO love me some America.  But within our homes and within the space between two people perhaps there is a great deal more to gain when we let ourselves be open to lose.  It's completely radical and sounds crazy coming from a gal who will just as soon pull the plug on the TV as let someone beat her at Jeopardy.  It's also perfectly genius and imperative to the health of pretty much any relationship, but most definitely a marriage relationship.  Read it HERE and then send it to your spouse.  Then let's join my two oldest sons and go out today and be the best big, fat losers that there ever were.

Pulling out of Postpartum Depression: Some "healer" ideas (small h)

I've been making notes here and there on grocery receipts and such about little things that helped me move through my postpartum depression and anxiety which I wrote about here.   I also wrote about the Healer with the big H here.  As I said before, I do not have a medical degree and I do not pretend that I have the answer for anyone specifically. I can only share my story and hope that one might glean something useful or at least hopeful from it.  Obviously, everyone is different and the severity of this kind of problem for new mommies covers a wide range. 

Having suffered this kind of pain in my past makes me acutely aware that I might very well face it again someday. There might be another season of life when my heart will race, my blood pressure will drop and the world will seem to spin away from me. I don't worry about it happening again, but I will never, ever forget it.  So if it does creep up on me again, in addition to believing in the redemptive and restorative power of Jesus, I will try to remember a few other things that brought me back to me.

DOCTORS/MEDICINE: I went to my doctor as soon as I could.  He did not blow me off and act like I was a hysterical woman.   He didn't pat me on the head and send me on my way telling me to get some sleep.  He gave me compassion and sympathy and then he looked at me with calm and assurance that told me that he had a plan.  I needed desperately for someone to have a plan.  I'll say it right here:  I know that anti-depressant and anti-anxiety drugs can be controversial and I know that they are not for everyone. I know that they can cause various unpleasant side effects in many people.  Again, I can only relay my story and my experience. My doctor gave me a prescription for both and they helped immensely.  I took the anxiety medication for a short time.  It did make me sleepy, but I was already a walking zombie anyway.  Once we got the dosage right, it was very, very helpful for the panic attacks that crept up on me in the early days.   I took the anti-depressant on and off for many years.  I never experienced a single unpleasant side effect with that medication.  (Unless, you count that I didn't sob like a maniac at that commercial where that kid comes home from college for Christmas to make the coffee for his mom before she wakes up.)  I just thought that was awfully sweet and I got a little misty-eyed.  I didn't curl on the couch and cry for an hour over it.  There are legitimate reasons to skip these kinds of medications, I'm sure.  For me, medicine was very important and very, very helpful.  I'm also not sure I could have mustered up the energy to do any of the following without first going to my doctor.

ASK FOR HELP: I was blessed with help from family and I know that many are not so fortunate. My mom came to my rescue for a number of days. My wonderful mother-in-law helped me for a number of weeks. My husband was compassionate and strong and never once resentful.  Girls, I think God sends His people for His people. You might not have family close by or maybe they just aren't able to help. Reach out to someone - maybe through church, school, friends, or neighbors. You would be shocked by how many people are willing to help if you can just find the courage to ask. Lots of people love to hold little babies. I remember being at countless baseball games for my older boys during Drew's first spring. The grandmother of one of our players would scoop Drew out of my arms and rock him for the entire game every single time she was there. It got to the point that I just handed him over without a word. There are some good people out there and a lot of them love babies, especially those of us whose babies are too big to hold now. Just ask.

EXERCISE: Y'all. I know. You want to throw your computer out the window. Honestly, when I was in the first days and weeks of my depression, I could not get out of bed without spinning, but as soon as I could get outside I did.  For me, the outside part was crucial.  At first, I am talking about walking around the block or even to the mailbox.  When Drew was about 5- 6 months old, I started running.  My husband came home with a training plan for us and announced that we were going to run the Army 10-Miler.  I looked at him like he had three heads.  I started with just two miles, but you can start with 1/4 of a mile.  There is no need to run ten miles, but it sure does make a gal feel like a champ.  There is nothing that I do personally that makes me feel stronger, happier, or more clear-minded than running.  Maybe because the praying and the running go together.  There is no faster way for me to find peace and connection to God than when I run.  If someone would have said that to me 8 years ago, I would have rolled my eyes and told them to stop yapping and pass the Tostitos.  Running is cheap and you can do it pretty much anywhere.  Yes, you need someone to hold the baby for 30 minutes.  Trade with someone?  ASK someone! I did have a friend that jogged circles around her cul-du-sac with the baby monitor on the porch while the baby slept.  Of course, if running isn't your thing, then walk or do yoga or get a dvd while baby naps.  I know I'm being so incredibly annoying.  I'll stop now.

FIND/FORM A BABY-SITTING CO-OP: When my second son was about 18 months old, a friend and neighbor of mine stumbled on this book which explains how to form a Baby-Sitting Co-Op.  The book explains everything in great detail, but basically the co-op is a group of women that takes turns baby-sitting for each other.  Points are given or taken from each gal if she sits for children or has someone sit for her.  We were very organized and stuck to specific rules.  There were meetings, leadership positions and safety checks.  Most importantly, for me, there was friendship and support.  There was peace and assurance that I actually could go to the dentist and my kids would be okay.  I honestly believe that this group of women was one of the most important groups I could have been privileged to be a part of during that season of my life. These were mommies, just like me. They were my friends or at the very least, a friend of a friend.  If it was a daytime sit, the children did not feel like they were going to a baby-sitter.  Instead they were just going to a play date with some neighbor kids.  If it was a night-time sit, your baby-sitter was not talking on the phone to her boyfriend and eating all of your food.  Grab a few moms and read the book. It is complete with rules, instructions, charts and again, RULES. It is imperative to follow the rules. You can start this with four women. When I left our co-op, I think we had twelve moms, my kids had a load of friends and adults that they trusted and I had saved an enormous amount of money.  Mommies helping mommies and money in the bank.  Nothing better.

FOOD and WATER:  Seriously, it's important.  Vitamins, protein, fiber and all that.  Girl's gotta eat, right? And she can't eat junk all the time.  Notice, I said not all the time, but certainly, some of the time.  And don't give me grief about the diet Coke.  At least I didn't make it an item on the list.  Ok?

FIND A MOM'S GROUP:  You  might find a Bible Study at a local church WITH childcare - it's only an hour or so, okay?   You can do it and so can your baby.  You  might find a MOPS group.  You might form your own play group with neighbor kids and you can switch houses every week or so.  A friend of mine referred me to this program through which she and other experienced moms (notice I did not say old, Kristen!) minister to young moms.  This is right on the money, ladies.  Maybe some of us who have older kids should start this in our churches?  I'm noodling on it.  This is what I'm trying to say here:  YOU NEED PEOPLE!  Not Facebook people.  REAL PEOPLE.  They are out there.  Go find them.

TIME: It's easy to say, but it doesn't make it any less true. One of my wise mom's favorite things to tell me to make me feel better about a situation is "This too shall pass". (along with "Just sit down and count to ten" and "Just put on some blush and lipstick.") The time will pass. It will. Your babies will sleep someday and so will you. They will be able to pour themselves a glass of water and you'll be able to go to the bathroom with the door closed. It just happens and it's a beautiful thing.

Ladies, now I know that if a gal is in the deepest parts of a severe postpartum depression, her mind can be so riddled with pain, guilt, fear and sadness that all of the above things cannot even be comprehended.  If you aren't able to fathom these ideas now, just know that they can come in steps during the journey to getting well.  If you can start with some of these things, that's great, but if you can't, just ask for help from someone you trust.  Don't hide and feel ashamed.  That won't help you or your family.  I said it before:  God gave YOU these children.  He believed in YOU.  Believe in yourself, too.  There is help.  YOU can find it.  Please do.

I'll likely think of some other things in the next few days that I forgot to list. I understand that there seem to be some problems with commenting on my blog.  I'll work on that.   If you're a momma, young or older, one who is suffering or one who has suffered, and you have an idea, please try to comment.  If you don't want to or can't comment, look around, ladies, and reach out to each other.  He's called us to it.  Let's be His people for His people.    

Monday Daybook: November 12, 2012

Outside my window:
It is warm and sunny and beautiful, but not for much longer apparently.
I am thinking:
honestly?  about mean people.  Bullies, mean girls . . . how they don't end in middle school sometimes.  I got a number of desperately sad emails in regard to my quotes from Beth Moore on the cowardliness of the mean and the fact that mean always has a history.  These messages were from grown women.  How much muck and pain and despair must live in the heart of one who spews out evil and hate and anger at every turn?  How many lies has that person heard as a child about her worth?  When someone who feels powerless believes that hurting gives power, how terribly painful must that life be?  How hard would it be for a woman (or man) to turn away from the history that brought her to that place?  Based on the emails I got, many find it hard to turn away.  How much peace would it bring to know that living in bitterness and fear is not the life God intends?  How would it be to know that it is never too late to turn to Him for hope and peace and calm? 
I am thankful:
for sunshine, for a 5 mile run, for laying it all at His feet, for His peace, for His grace, for His promises, for His redemptive power.
In the kitchen:
Alert the media:  I HAVE SOMETHING IN THE CROCKPOT.  I am Betty Crocker.
I am wearing:
running shorts, shirt, shoes, ipod head phones.  GO GO GO.
I am going:
to buy new white towels for the bathrooms.  It's safe now since baseball season is over.  Basketball season starts this week and in my world that coincides with new towel season.
I am wondering:
if anyone will actually eat my crockpot dinner.  Highly doubtful.  Bummer.
I am reading:
Esther, Chapter 4 which includes this great verse:  "And who knows but that you have come to a royal position for such a time as this?"  Makes me wonder what God intends for me in such a time as this.   And who knows?  Keep searching.
I am hoping:
for miracles in someone's life and for me to have the faith that He really can do the very unlikely, unfathomable miracles that I desperately want to believe that He can.
I am praying:
for the faith to say to that mountain: MOVE!
I am looking forward to:
basketball season!!!! It doesn't get cancelled for rain, it's over in an hour, everyone is moving the entire time, I can see all my kids' faces and my car won't get dirty! (although it will smell.)
I am pondering:
Monday tasks.  Boring.
A favorite quote for today:
"Of all rights bestowed on us as the children of God, perhaps none exceeds the right to repent and turn back to the Lord.  Repentance is not your punishment.  It's your glorious right of daughtership.  Your invitation to restoration."   - Beth Moore
A verse for today:
"He is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, and He relents from sending calamity."  - Joel 2:13
On my Ipod:
Y'all . . . I know it's a bitter pill to swallow, especially if you've been hurt by someone who is not sorry, but apparently that doesn't matter.  I know.  It stinks.  It's soooooo hard.  So hard.  I'm not sure I get it yet, but this song, Forgiveness, by Matthew West, might help or it might not.   You know what?  I really don't know.  Just listen anyway. 
One of my favorite things:
my daddy and the big heart he has and how he is using his life to help a young person who has been dealt a really bad hand.  Dad, I think you were made for such a time as this.  I love you from the heart of my bottom.
A few plans for the week:
basketball practices, watching Drew sing at school on Wednesday, lots of reading, getting ready to see my people, y'all.
A peek into my day:

Daybook idea from http://www.thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/

{this moment}: Lessons in Civics

{this moment} A Friday ritual.  A few photos - no words (I absolutely promise this time) - of a moment from the week.  A special, extraordinary moment.  A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
for more moments visit www.soulemama.com

You are 8 on the 8th, Drew. And You are YOU!

The doctor said it for the third time:  "It's a boy!"
I giggled and thought, "Well, no problem. I got this."
Then I took a look at your bright red face that matched your bright red head.
Think again, sister.

I wondered which one you would you be like.  The first or the second.  But you are just you . . . the third.  You are the exclamation point at the end of the sentence that is our family.
 

You are you, all on your own.  Red hair flaming.  Freckles popping.  Littlest, bittiest nose we have ever seen. 

You are you.   Sliding the kitchen chairs to the counter to climb, so that we had to bungee cord them together under the table.  Waking at the slightest noise so that we had to put the sound machine on high and the bathroom fan on at the same time.  Throwing the biggest, baddest, loudest tantrums we had ever seen.

You are you.  Starting out as their bat boy and now giving those big boys a run for their money with so many pitches and hits and baskets and catches.  You throw and you shoot and you run and you tackle. Those brothers won't let you travel or double dribble or have more than three strikes.  They won't go easy on you and they will make you wait your turn. They are the meanest of the mean and the bestest of the best.  They will make you strong and brave and tough because they love you so fiercely.

You are just you.  You are not just one more boy.  You are one of three, but like no other.  You challenge my patience the most.  You wrap your arms around me the tightest.  When you bounce out of the school doors, you smile the biggest.  You cling the hardest to Daddy's hand.  You bring new space to my heart that was already bursting full, so that everyday I think it will crack open at the seams because of how I adore you, my littlest love.

You desperately want to just "get big."  When I get big, I'll do this.  When I get big, I'll do that.
Once, when you were about three, we sat outside the church nursery and you clung to me and cried that you didn't want to go. We were about to be late for the service and then you made sure of it.  You looked at us with tears streaming and asked, "Mommy and Daddy, when you get wittle, will you come to Sunday School with me?"

Oh, how I wish we could stay wittle together, my wittle one.  But you keep getting big.  And you must.  Because our God has big things in store for you, wittle boy . . . a big, shiny future for you.  It's just for you and it as blinding as the glow of those bright red curls.

Happy 8th birthday, Drew Christopher.  I love you to pieces.

Ode to Joy: Observations of a 43 year old Teenage Girl

Oh, Justin Bieber.  Oh, you.  You are somethin' else, kid. 

I'm blasting Baby, Baby, Baby, oh from my Ipod and basking in the glow of happy this morning after spending a few plus hours with Mrs. R., her daughters and thousands of girlies last night at the Justin Bieber concert in Washington DC.  Lots going on here in the nation's capital this morning.  Lots of angst, lots of hand-wringing, lots of accusing, lots of fear, lots of worry.

Let me tell you what I like better than that:  lots of joy, lots of thrill, lots of glee, loads of smiles and screams and jumping up and down, hands in the air, waving like you just don't care.  Y'all, it was positively EUPHORIC.  And I loved it.

Yes, the inner adult in me could've said, "Oh, girls.  This isn't real.  He's just a boy, like all the others.  He isn't singing to you, honey.  You're my one love, my one heart, my one life for sure?  Sweeties, he's 18 years old.  Always makin' time for you?   Probably not, darlin'."

But, just for awhile, Mrs. R. and I kept the wise, mature women inside.  Instead, we giggled and smiled and danced and sang and soaked in the girls' bliss. 

Well, except for when we leaned into each other and whispered these 40ish year old mommy thoughts:

"Seriously, how does he function in those pants?"  and

"Do you really think he sits by the fire and eats fondue?" and 

"Bless your heart, Jayden Smith, but you ain't no Fresh Prince . . . not yet." and

"Oh my word, that giant crane spinning him around while he plays that guitar is stressing me out.  I hope he hangs on.  Please don't throw up, Justin."

Most of the time, we just let the joy float around us.  We watched all the girls become the one less lonely girl.  We let them imagine that he doesn't need all these pretty faces like he needs you.  We let them believe that boyfriend, boyfriend, he could be your boyfriend and never let you go.  We took in the purple and the sequins and the angel wings and the big screens and the fireworks and Justin telling us that no matter what happens, you just gotta believe, gals, and it's going to be okay.  You know, swaggy and such.

And now, I gotta turn down the I'll be your silver, I'll be your platinum, I'll be your gold and release my inner 13 year old.  I have to turn into a responsible  43 year old citizen of our great country.  I have to just take a deep breath, vote and smile at people.  Justin told me last night that no matter what I was going through, everything was going to turn out just fine and then he danced like nobody's business and did not throw up while spinning around on that crane thing.  I mean, at least for today, I'm gonna believe that kid.  He closes his eyes and he can see a better day.  He closes his eyes and prays. 

You know what? I'm down with that for today. You smile, we smile, Justin. Thanks for the show, buddy. You certainly can deal out the happy, son.

 

Thanks also to Little Miss A and Little Miss I for letting me capture the joy. 

Daybook: (Sunday and) Monday, November 5th

Outside my window:
a parking lot in Bristow, Virginia. It's actually Sunday morning and I'm getting a jumpstart on the Daybook by taking refuge in the Starbucks at Harris Teeter for about an hour while Kyle "warms up" for his early morning baseball game.  It's 38 degrees.  Time for you to go now fall baseball season.

I am thinking:
about the election.  Desperate political signs, desperate phone calls, desperate tv ads . . . I realize we are in desperate times, but this is exhausting.  And this is coming from someone who has made the calls and passed out the signs in her past.  I am way over it and I'm ready to pull the lever.
I am thankful:
that the world will continue to spin and that our God will continue to bless and that I will continue to believe in the goodness of my country and its people no matter what happens come Wednesday morning.
In the kitchen:
it's likely a mess since I left before three of my people ate breakfast.
I am wearing:
long underwear pulled out of the ski clothes bin, warm socks, boots, scarf, hat, chapstick, jacket, gloves. 
I am listening to:
two little toddler boys in a shopping cart, one of whom is throwing a championship tantrum, while their poor mama just tries to buy some bananas.
I am going:
to get some coffee and brave the ball field.
I am wondering:
if anyone else sees that Brad Pitt Chanel commercial and wants tell him to please, stop talking and  then to throw something at the tv.  Brad,  Mrs. R. and I are pretty smart and we can't even figure out what on God's green Earth you are talking about.  And unless you are going to go full-on Tristan from Legends of the Fall, please cut your hair.  The lovely and talented Mrs. C. says she thinks that Coco Chanel is probably doing the superfreak about that commercial.  I think she's right.  (Yes, there is a crucial election this week and there are many things to wonder about.  I just can't help it)
I am reading:
The Great Gatsby
I am hoping:
for a couple of ODBL tournament baseball championships for the 12U Loudoun South Eagles and the 8U Blue Ridge Senators.
I am learning:
that when I'm in a mood, I tend to take out my frustrations by yelling at people on tv.  Sorry, Brad Pitt, tv anchors and all of the whiny people on the political ads, but y'all are getting on my last nerve.

(Now is when we switch to Monday)

I am looking forward to:
a date night with Mrs. R. and her two girls tonight where I will dance and sing and embarrass myself and probably wear earplugs.
I am pondering:
how blessed our family has been through our youth baseball experience to have crossed paths with such truly good people.  Funny, sweet, supportive, loyal people . . . and well-behaved, too (I'm talking about the parents here because we have certainly been witness to some terrible behavior by parents in our experience also.)  Way to keep it classy, Eagles, Senators and Bulldogs.  That wins every time.
On my Ipod:
Third Day has a new CD coming out tomorrow and I was so excited to hear THIS cover of Morning has Broken on the radio yesterday. 
A quote for today:
"It's not a journey.  Every journey ends, but we go on.  The world turns and we turn with it.  Plans disappear, dreams take over.  But wherever I go, there you are"  - Brad Pitt (HUH?)
I am praying for:
families in New York and New Jersey struggling in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy.
A verse for today:
"As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts" -Isaiah 55:9
One of my favorite things:
TWO Championships! Winning isn't everything, but it sure is fun.

1.

2.

 



A few plans for the week:
parent-teacher conferences, celebrating my baby's 8th birthday, and THIS:

A peek into my day:

FOR REAL!!!!

Daybook idea from http://www.thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/

{this moment}: Marvelous are Your Works



{this moment}:  A Friday ritual.  A single photo of a moment from the week.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment.  A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. - Soulemama

 

"I will praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well." - Psalm 139:14

 

Welcome to the world, Neeley Kate.  Now you are one of my people which means now all of my people are your people!  Lucky you.  We're not nearly perfect, but we are experts at BIG LOVE, even from far, far away. 

PS I used to play with your mommy and your aunt, like they were my dolls.  Caring for and loving them showed me how desperately I wanted to be a mother.  And now your mommy and your aunt get the amazing blessing of being mommies to two beautiful girlies each!  Isn't God good?  I do have to let you know that when your mommy was three or four, she told me that when she grew up she wanted to be a dog shaver or a rabbit trainer.  I'm not saying God doesn't put a high importance on those vocations, but I'm glad she chose you and your sister for now :)

Be strong and courageous, sweet baby girl.  You are well loved.