Starting right after Thanksgiving, I check the mail with anticipation every single day. Who will we get Christmas cards from today? Will there be a letter and photos enclosed?
I love personal mail.
Wonderful, fun, personal mail.
But, I don't mail much of anything.
Postage is expensive...but is it worth the little added expense and effort to drop a real letter in the mail as opposed to the quick text or email message?
Recently I've caught myself wishing that my mom had kept a diary.
This morning I dragged boxes out of the basement in search of 15 year old letters and photos from my grandmother. I never found the specific ones I was looking for.
I did, however, find years of cards and letters from other family and friends when I lived in Florida. This was before cell phones; back when long distance phone calls cost 15 cents per minute. A sheet of paper, an envelope and postage cost less than a 5 minute phone call. So, we wrote.
As a keeper of all things sentimental, I have all of these letters neatly tied together in stacks by year. With pretty ribbon, of course.
The letters from my mom are in a stack of their own. I started with them. I remember having read them in my 20's. Many of the lines I recalled verbatim. However, all these years later, I read them with an entirely fresh and more mature perspective. I didn't always hear what she was trying to say when I was hurt and angry...and barely over 21. Today I did. One letter in particular - six pages typed - is totally a diary. She very openly and vulnerably shares her heart. I wish I'd understood all those years ago what she was saying... I'm ever so grateful that I do now. So very grateful to have her heart in writing...many letters over. Grateful to hear her voice, her laughter, even her mild swearing with every written word. (Oh, hell, Tonya...) She makes me smile.
As I wiped the tears from my eyes, I considered taking some Motrin but headed back to the box of cards and letters instead. I read for hours. There are so many letters. I can recognize the senders by their handwriting. I love their handwriting.
I came across a note that my brother Jim sent me in 2001. It is on a scratch piece of paper and was enclosed with a package. It is not a real letter, and is only a couple of sentences long. I hugged it.
Yea, I'm cheesy that way.
Dawn and Marci wrote me a lot when I lived in Florida. I can hear their sarcasm and laughter in their letters. And their stories - and all the memories - bring wide smiles to my face. Dawn and Marci frequently doodled or stamped something on their notes. I'm sure I hardly noticed it then, but the added illustrations make me smile now...remembering how young we were.
Aimee must have written me every other week! I can hear her excitement and squeals with every triple-underlined word. Aimee knew how to live. I cannot think about her without my heart breaking a little all over again, so I'm especially grateful to have all of those crazy letters...and postcards from vacation. As if I needed to know that she was scuba diving in Hawaii as I was laboring away at work.
Who's idea were postcards anyway? Obnoxious for the sad recipients who aren't vacationing...but, thank you.
My sister Shanna wrote me also. One of my favorite letters is about her first pregnancy. Swollen feet, baby kicking... I had no clue, as I was still 7 years away from becoming a mother myself. But, she's sweet, and young, and excited and you can hear it all in that letter.
And there was a precious letter handwritten by my 90+ year old great grandmother. Wow.
Much to my surprise, there were dozens of love letters and cards from Bryan back when we were dating and newly married. As the years have passed, we've grown comfortable and it has evidently slipped our minds to woo each other like we used to. Or, perhaps it's simply a matter of time. Has the time we used to spend browsing card aisles been absorbed by our kids? Probably so; however, rereading these cards and letters reminds me of just how important it is to keep wooing my man.
Today's stroll down memory lane was a wonderful one. I've decided that you definitely don't get the same effect with a text message or an email. Despite how ridiculously expensive postage is these days, I'm going to write letters again here and there.
And... I'll look for mail from you on occasion.
I love personal mail.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Family skate date
I grew up on ice skates. Thought I'd compete at the Olympics.
I really wish I had a picture to insert here. Imagine nine year old me, in my favorite yellow skirt and brand new white Riedell ice skates.
When I asked my students the other day if they knew who Dorothy Hamill was, I was so sad. They had no clue. I couldn't stomach it if they didn't know Scott Hamilton, so I dropped the subject. As I googled his name and caught his birth date out of the corner of my eye, I realize how much I've just aged myself.
But they were legends when I was a kid. They were the things my little girl dreams were made of.
I still fancy myself a skater. However, I'm sure that in reality I looked like a baby giraffe on unstable legs when I stepped onto the ice last weekend. Unfortunately, clean figure eights, Salchows and basic spins do not all come back like riding a bike.
Still, we had a blast.
And I have a great imagination.
I totally think I should take skating lessons again. Clearly my kids need to.
I really wish I had a picture to insert here. Imagine nine year old me, in my favorite yellow skirt and brand new white Riedell ice skates.
When I asked my students the other day if they knew who Dorothy Hamill was, I was so sad. They had no clue. I couldn't stomach it if they didn't know Scott Hamilton, so I dropped the subject. As I googled his name and caught his birth date out of the corner of my eye, I realize how much I've just aged myself.
But they were legends when I was a kid. They were the things my little girl dreams were made of.
I still fancy myself a skater. However, I'm sure that in reality I looked like a baby giraffe on unstable legs when I stepped onto the ice last weekend. Unfortunately, clean figure eights, Salchows and basic spins do not all come back like riding a bike.
Still, we had a blast.
And I have a great imagination.
I totally think I should take skating lessons again. Clearly my kids need to.
We {heart} Upward
Basketball is in full swing. This is Luke's first year, Zach's third.
The teams are assigned in such a way that the goal is to produce teams that are balanced in terms of player ability. From one season to the next, players and coaches are always different. However, each of the boys has two friends on their team this year.
Luke is playing with Christina B. and Landon P.
He always has his hands up.
Zachary is playing with Benjamin B. (Christina's brother) and Jacob S.
We have been long time friends/neighbors with each of these kids. It's a blast to get to play together...and carpooling is always a bonus! Every time we step foot in the gym at Upward, there are countless familiar faces - some dating back more than 25 years. We love this program and all of our friends there.
We pray before every game.
Luke is quite a player. He was the first to score for the entire season, for all age groups. I don't think he'll ever let us forget that. At his second game, he had 6 points. Not that we're keeping score...
He has given himself a new nickname. Luke the Nuke. I told him that he had to actually earn a nickname like that, and he certainly has.
Zachary is adjusting to his new age bracket, 3rd-4th grade. He's the lower man on the totem pole this season. The rules are a little different (free throws when fouled within 2 minutes of the period ending), and the kids are taller than they were last year. He's a great defensive player and is getting his offensive footing.
Both boys' coaches are very encouraging and focused more on character building than on basketball. We love this.
The locker room time after the game is always special, as each boy receives a "Star of the Game". So far, Luke has received the Offensive Star and the Christlike Star and Zachary has received the Defensive Star and Sportsmanship Star.
The teams are assigned in such a way that the goal is to produce teams that are balanced in terms of player ability. From one season to the next, players and coaches are always different. However, each of the boys has two friends on their team this year.
Luke is playing with Christina B. and Landon P.
He always has his hands up.
Zachary is playing with Benjamin B. (Christina's brother) and Jacob S.
We have been long time friends/neighbors with each of these kids. It's a blast to get to play together...and carpooling is always a bonus! Every time we step foot in the gym at Upward, there are countless familiar faces - some dating back more than 25 years. We love this program and all of our friends there.
We pray before every game.
Luke is quite a player. He was the first to score for the entire season, for all age groups. I don't think he'll ever let us forget that. At his second game, he had 6 points. Not that we're keeping score...
He has given himself a new nickname. Luke the Nuke. I told him that he had to actually earn a nickname like that, and he certainly has.
Zachary is adjusting to his new age bracket, 3rd-4th grade. He's the lower man on the totem pole this season. The rules are a little different (free throws when fouled within 2 minutes of the period ending), and the kids are taller than they were last year. He's a great defensive player and is getting his offensive footing.
Both boys' coaches are very encouraging and focused more on character building than on basketball. We love this.
The locker room time after the game is always special, as each boy receives a "Star of the Game". So far, Luke has received the Offensive Star and the Christlike Star and Zachary has received the Defensive Star and Sportsmanship Star.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
God always has a plan
My brother received my letter.
I mailed it on Wednesday, January 2. He received it on his way out the door on Tuesday morning, January 8. By 8am that same day, I had an email waiting in my inbox...from him.
When I saw his name as the sender...our father's name...I gasped and immediately began trembling. Bryan asked what was wrong and I bit my lower lip and slowly choked out, "He sent me an email."
The kids hadn't left for school yet, so Bryan's first response was a hurried, "Don't read it." and I quickly snapped the laptop shut. I was trembling in fear.
I saw that there was no subject and my mind immediately went to, "Does he say in the body of his message never to contact him again?" I really couldn't stand it. I paced for a few minutes, then realized that my kids might notice my bizarre silent meltdown. So, I sat on the couch quietly...and opened a little gift that Zach had made for me at school. I was seeing spots, but ooh'ed and ahh'ed over his gift just the same. Then he handed Bryan a gift, which happened to be a DVD of the 3rd grade productions from first semester. Which, of course, he wanted us to watch right then. We "watched" them, but I'm not sure either of us actually saw what was on the TV screen.
As soon as the boys left for school, Bryan offered to read the email to me. Not normally one to want to be read to, I agreed. I was nearly catatonic - seriously seeing spots - so I am not sure I could have focused my eyes to read it right then if I'd wanted to. Before he read it, I asked if he was nice. Bryan assured me that he was. Next I asked if it was very long, and Bryan said it wasn't. I [part sarcastically/part seriously] scoffed, "What?!?! I wrote three pages and he didn't write much back?" He suggested I wait before assessing... He read it to me. And Bryan was right, he was sounding nice enough... Then he closed in on the end:
"Thanks for taking the time and effort to find me. I knew about you, I even used to have a picture of you when I was a kid, but I guess my experiences with my dad, our dad, kind of soured me on the idea of trying to reach out. Have a great day, and I look forward to hearing from you again."
To which, Bryan and I both teared up. He'd known. He'd had a picture. He looked forward to hearing from me again. And... He'd made it a priority to write me back within hours of reading my letter.
That day, we exchanged eleven emails over a span of 12 hours. And, just as I sent him what I expected what would be the last email of the night, he impulsively called me. We talked for another four hours.
We have since talked, emailed or texted at length every day. He is so very much like me, and not at all like I'd feared he might have been.
Naturally, he googled me... He says I'm "all over the internet". As of yesterday, he'd read my entire blog. Four years worth of ramblings. He's got impressive determination, endurance and stick-to-it-ive'ness.
I always thought I was writing this blog for my kids' sake - so that, should anything happen to me, they would forever have these words, these stories... They would know my heart. It never occurred to me that this blog would one day be used to help my brother get to know me.
Knowing that he was reading caused me to go back and read a little too... It was nice to revisit my life's story, to see the hand of God... I am reminded again that God always has a plan. God never ceases His work. All things really do work together for the good of those who love Him. I am both overwhelmed and humbled by His care and constant work in my life.
Everything has come together for this...
As I've looked back over my life, I've come to realize that I really had a lot of healing to do before I was ready to know my brother. As much as I'd asked about him over the last 15 years, I wasn't ready until just now. I needed to be at peace with the abuse from my childhood, with my biological father's absence and rejection, issues with my mother, and the passing of each of my parents... I needed that peace, wholeness, closeness with God in order to wade into this newest journey relying on Him, not reaching out for another person to fill God-sized holes. There is such freedom, no pressure, no outrageous expectations as my brother and I get to know one another. Just peace. And joy. And fulfillment.
And... Wholenesss.
I mailed it on Wednesday, January 2. He received it on his way out the door on Tuesday morning, January 8. By 8am that same day, I had an email waiting in my inbox...from him.
When I saw his name as the sender...our father's name...I gasped and immediately began trembling. Bryan asked what was wrong and I bit my lower lip and slowly choked out, "He sent me an email."
The kids hadn't left for school yet, so Bryan's first response was a hurried, "Don't read it." and I quickly snapped the laptop shut. I was trembling in fear.
I saw that there was no subject and my mind immediately went to, "Does he say in the body of his message never to contact him again?" I really couldn't stand it. I paced for a few minutes, then realized that my kids might notice my bizarre silent meltdown. So, I sat on the couch quietly...and opened a little gift that Zach had made for me at school. I was seeing spots, but ooh'ed and ahh'ed over his gift just the same. Then he handed Bryan a gift, which happened to be a DVD of the 3rd grade productions from first semester. Which, of course, he wanted us to watch right then. We "watched" them, but I'm not sure either of us actually saw what was on the TV screen.
As soon as the boys left for school, Bryan offered to read the email to me. Not normally one to want to be read to, I agreed. I was nearly catatonic - seriously seeing spots - so I am not sure I could have focused my eyes to read it right then if I'd wanted to. Before he read it, I asked if he was nice. Bryan assured me that he was. Next I asked if it was very long, and Bryan said it wasn't. I [part sarcastically/part seriously] scoffed, "What?!?! I wrote three pages and he didn't write much back?" He suggested I wait before assessing... He read it to me. And Bryan was right, he was sounding nice enough... Then he closed in on the end:
"Thanks for taking the time and effort to find me. I knew about you, I even used to have a picture of you when I was a kid, but I guess my experiences with my dad, our dad, kind of soured me on the idea of trying to reach out. Have a great day, and I look forward to hearing from you again."
To which, Bryan and I both teared up. He'd known. He'd had a picture. He looked forward to hearing from me again. And... He'd made it a priority to write me back within hours of reading my letter.
That day, we exchanged eleven emails over a span of 12 hours. And, just as I sent him what I expected what would be the last email of the night, he impulsively called me. We talked for another four hours.
We have since talked, emailed or texted at length every day. He is so very much like me, and not at all like I'd feared he might have been.
Naturally, he googled me... He says I'm "all over the internet". As of yesterday, he'd read my entire blog. Four years worth of ramblings. He's got impressive determination, endurance and stick-to-it-ive'ness.
I always thought I was writing this blog for my kids' sake - so that, should anything happen to me, they would forever have these words, these stories... They would know my heart. It never occurred to me that this blog would one day be used to help my brother get to know me.
Knowing that he was reading caused me to go back and read a little too... It was nice to revisit my life's story, to see the hand of God... I am reminded again that God always has a plan. God never ceases His work. All things really do work together for the good of those who love Him. I am both overwhelmed and humbled by His care and constant work in my life.
Everything has come together for this...
As I've looked back over my life, I've come to realize that I really had a lot of healing to do before I was ready to know my brother. As much as I'd asked about him over the last 15 years, I wasn't ready until just now. I needed to be at peace with the abuse from my childhood, with my biological father's absence and rejection, issues with my mother, and the passing of each of my parents... I needed that peace, wholeness, closeness with God in order to wade into this newest journey relying on Him, not reaching out for another person to fill God-sized holes. There is such freedom, no pressure, no outrageous expectations as my brother and I get to know one another. Just peace. And joy. And fulfillment.
And... Wholenesss.
Monday, January 7, 2013
Birthday blesssings
In my classes, we celebrate birthdays with a class birthday book. Each student writes a page to the birthday boy or girl, and my requirement is that they include at least two compliments or words of encouragement for their friend. These are simple books - nothing fancy - simply a stack of pages stapled together. Friends write and illustrate whatever is on their hearts, and I write the last page of every book.
Being that we're not in school over the summer, half birthdays were celebrated today - along with a few belated late-December birthdays and the early-January birthdays. All told, I got to celebrate about fifteen birthdays among my four classes. In one class alone, we had eight birthdays.
The class with eight birthdays is my most challenging class. It has the most students, and only one of them is a girl. It is also the last class of the day, so the kids are getting squirmy. It is full of energy and the volume is generally loud or louder. They are also at an incredibly excitable age, so the second anyone gets an idea, they share it with everyone around them...and that generally prompts more sharing. In a creative class, this is both wonderful and maddening.
But, today, I had the priveledge of setting aside my lesson plan and just focusing on praising and encouraging them for 50 minutes...and giving them the time to do the same. As I reflected on each of the eight birthday kids, I thought over where they were when I met them, and where they are at today. I took the time to acknowledge their growth and maturation, and simply savored my favorite things about each child.
In the busyness of trying to get through a lesson or finish a project, it is all too easy to become hurried, tasky and frustrated. When we slow down and appreciate each person and the journey of learning and growing, it's so much sweeter.
I've always done these books as a gift to the kids, but today they really spoke to me. My kids are pretty awesome. All unique, all writing on the pages that are my life.
And to think.... I get paid to do this! In cold hard cash and countless hugs, drawings and notes.
Being that we're not in school over the summer, half birthdays were celebrated today - along with a few belated late-December birthdays and the early-January birthdays. All told, I got to celebrate about fifteen birthdays among my four classes. In one class alone, we had eight birthdays.
The class with eight birthdays is my most challenging class. It has the most students, and only one of them is a girl. It is also the last class of the day, so the kids are getting squirmy. It is full of energy and the volume is generally loud or louder. They are also at an incredibly excitable age, so the second anyone gets an idea, they share it with everyone around them...and that generally prompts more sharing. In a creative class, this is both wonderful and maddening.
But, today, I had the priveledge of setting aside my lesson plan and just focusing on praising and encouraging them for 50 minutes...and giving them the time to do the same. As I reflected on each of the eight birthday kids, I thought over where they were when I met them, and where they are at today. I took the time to acknowledge their growth and maturation, and simply savored my favorite things about each child.
In the busyness of trying to get through a lesson or finish a project, it is all too easy to become hurried, tasky and frustrated. When we slow down and appreciate each person and the journey of learning and growing, it's so much sweeter.
I've always done these books as a gift to the kids, but today they really spoke to me. My kids are pretty awesome. All unique, all writing on the pages that are my life.
And to think.... I get paid to do this! In cold hard cash and countless hugs, drawings and notes.
Friday, January 4, 2013
It could be any day now
I have really fallen off the blogging bandwagon. Not because I don't have deep thoughts anymore ...my mind never rests... but because I scarcely have the time to sit at a computer for longer than it takes to update Facebook.
But, the reason I started blogging in the first place is still a valuable one. I want to be known - by my friends and, most importantly, by my kids. My boys don't need a written record of every thought I've ever had....but what I wouldn't give right now to have a journal written by my mother or father.
Yes, I do realize that I'm a girl and they're boys ...and they may not care... but I'm writing anyway. After all, my husband and my brother read my blog ramblings, so there's hope that my boys will too one day.
Without further adieu, let the confused rambling begin...
It occurred to me today that my half-brother might have received my letter and photos today. More than likely it will arrive tomorrow or Monday, but it could have arrived today. Of course, the intended purpose of mailing the package was for him to receive it, open it, read it...and call or write me back. But, suddenly I'm nervous. I honestly think I'm nervous because this reminds me of a call I made 13 years ago. I was calling a man with the exact same name as this younger man who will now be left to decide do-I-call-or-don't-I? When I heard the voice on the other end of the line all those years ago, I said: "Hello. Is this K? This is Tonya S. How are you?" He replied saying, "Who?" To which I repeated myself and added, "Your daughter." I was nervous and feeling a bit awkward. He was in shock, caught completely off guard. He knew who I was as soon as he'd heard my name. I could hear it in his voice.
As I was cleaning house today, moving furniture around, doing laundry, repacking what was left of the Christmas decor...I realized that I might be caught just as off-guard by this man's son, my half-brother, catching me in the middle of something, saying: "Hi, This is K. Your brother." What exactly do you say to that? (Of course, I will want to squeal and start talking really fast: "PRAISE GOD!!! You got my letter! And you called!!! What do you think? What do you know? What do you look like? Are you tall? I'm tall. Our dad was really tall. My kids are really tall. I have a wide nose and our father's eyes. So does our grandmother. And my youngest son. How about you??? Do you have red hair?!?!") Thirteen years ago, I said, "How are you?" and from there the conversation somehow managed to flow. I don't know how.
Waiting to hear from my brother is all just so reminiscent of that first phone call to my father. Surreal, really.
I have several hundred questions - 30 years to catch up on - but it's a first phone call / letter, so I'm going to need to pace myself.
Not only that... But, if I'm being completely honest, I'm having to deal with the ...disappointment, anger, grief, I'm not quite sure what to call it... that our father put us in this situation to begin with. If he hadn't walked out on us, his children wouldn't be complete strangers to one another. And we wouldn't have been complete strangers to him. I wouldn't be wondering how much information is enough, but not too much, to share upfront with my brother.
But, in spite of this uncertainty, I am at peace with where we're at today. I had known of my brother's existence for 15 years, but did not even know for sure what his name was. I knew which state he'd lived in when he was five, but had no idea where to look today. And then, unexpectedly, I met someone whose mother-in-law is a Private Investigator, and 15 hours later, I had my brother's name and address in my hands. It couldn't be that easy if it wasn't meant to be; if it wasn't the right time. Whether or not he writes or calls, I believe I was meant to write when I did. Silence, if that's what comes, may not be "no", but rather "not yet". I know how much it has taken to get me to this place, and I have eight years (and 15 years of processing time!) on my brother. If he's silent, I will assume that it means "not yet". And he will know that I'm here; that I'm ready. I do hope and pray that one day - preferably sooner rather than later - I will know my father's other child. My brother.
But, the reason I started blogging in the first place is still a valuable one. I want to be known - by my friends and, most importantly, by my kids. My boys don't need a written record of every thought I've ever had....but what I wouldn't give right now to have a journal written by my mother or father.
Yes, I do realize that I'm a girl and they're boys ...and they may not care... but I'm writing anyway. After all, my husband and my brother read my blog ramblings, so there's hope that my boys will too one day.
Without further adieu, let the confused rambling begin...
It occurred to me today that my half-brother might have received my letter and photos today. More than likely it will arrive tomorrow or Monday, but it could have arrived today. Of course, the intended purpose of mailing the package was for him to receive it, open it, read it...and call or write me back. But, suddenly I'm nervous. I honestly think I'm nervous because this reminds me of a call I made 13 years ago. I was calling a man with the exact same name as this younger man who will now be left to decide do-I-call-or-don't-I? When I heard the voice on the other end of the line all those years ago, I said: "Hello. Is this K? This is Tonya S. How are you?" He replied saying, "Who?" To which I repeated myself and added, "Your daughter." I was nervous and feeling a bit awkward. He was in shock, caught completely off guard. He knew who I was as soon as he'd heard my name. I could hear it in his voice.
As I was cleaning house today, moving furniture around, doing laundry, repacking what was left of the Christmas decor...I realized that I might be caught just as off-guard by this man's son, my half-brother, catching me in the middle of something, saying: "Hi, This is K. Your brother." What exactly do you say to that? (Of course, I will want to squeal and start talking really fast: "PRAISE GOD!!! You got my letter! And you called!!! What do you think? What do you know? What do you look like? Are you tall? I'm tall. Our dad was really tall. My kids are really tall. I have a wide nose and our father's eyes. So does our grandmother. And my youngest son. How about you??? Do you have red hair?!?!") Thirteen years ago, I said, "How are you?" and from there the conversation somehow managed to flow. I don't know how.
Waiting to hear from my brother is all just so reminiscent of that first phone call to my father. Surreal, really.
I have several hundred questions - 30 years to catch up on - but it's a first phone call / letter, so I'm going to need to pace myself.
Not only that... But, if I'm being completely honest, I'm having to deal with the ...disappointment, anger, grief, I'm not quite sure what to call it... that our father put us in this situation to begin with. If he hadn't walked out on us, his children wouldn't be complete strangers to one another. And we wouldn't have been complete strangers to him. I wouldn't be wondering how much information is enough, but not too much, to share upfront with my brother.
But, in spite of this uncertainty, I am at peace with where we're at today. I had known of my brother's existence for 15 years, but did not even know for sure what his name was. I knew which state he'd lived in when he was five, but had no idea where to look today. And then, unexpectedly, I met someone whose mother-in-law is a Private Investigator, and 15 hours later, I had my brother's name and address in my hands. It couldn't be that easy if it wasn't meant to be; if it wasn't the right time. Whether or not he writes or calls, I believe I was meant to write when I did. Silence, if that's what comes, may not be "no", but rather "not yet". I know how much it has taken to get me to this place, and I have eight years (and 15 years of processing time!) on my brother. If he's silent, I will assume that it means "not yet". And he will know that I'm here; that I'm ready. I do hope and pray that one day - preferably sooner rather than later - I will know my father's other child. My brother.
Monday, December 24, 2012
A last glance over 2012
If I’ve said any one thing repeatedly in 2012, it would be,
“Is this really happening?”
My Aunt Janelle and cousin Alexandra came to visit from
England last December/January. They
stayed at our house for about a week, right before Christmas. This provided the perfect excuse to have a
large Epps family Christmas party at my house.
I’d never hosted a large family gathering – and don’t think all six of
Mom’s siblings had been together since the early 1990’s – so this was very
special. We had a wonderful time, and I
went to bed that night with a smile on my face and a greater understanding of my
mother and her family.
No one would have guessed that it would be the last time
we’d all be together. My mother passed
away unexpectedly three months later. I’ve
never known such shock, and can scarcely recall how we got through the
following week, but I do know that my husband, my aunts and cousins, and our
friends are incredible rock stars. Their
loving kindness and prayers carried us through those gut-wrenching days (and
those that still come when least expected).
I’m pretty sure that it’s impossible to ever really be prepared to lose a loved one, but I am
so grateful for the healing and restoration that Mom and I knew in the final
few years of her life. We were at peace
and knew true joy in our relationship; my only regret is that we didn’t get
more time together.
In May, I graduated from college. It’s only an Associates degree from the
community college, but I honestly never really thought I’d even complete
that! We had a really fun graduation
party with loads of friends who celebrated as if I’d been elected President of
the United States! The plan is for me to
eventually finish my Bachelors in Elementary Education, but the timing is not
right right now.
Our summer was really great.
We spent a lot of time at the pool, amusement parks, riding bikes, and
hanging out with friends. We took a few
short trips to Wichita, Atchison and Omaha, and even talked my brother into
joining us on our church’s annual canoe trip on the Niangua River. Since our boys have never been interested in
taking swim lessons or joining swim team, I offered to pay them $25 each if
they would master the crawl over the summer.
Zach is $25 richer (and a great swimmer!). Each of the boys played soccer in the spring
and fall, and Luke played summer and fall baseball too. Zach returned for another summer of Junior
Golf, and both boys are currently playing another season of Upwards basketball.
School started in August.
I am now in my second year of teaching Writing and Public Speaking at a
homeschool enrichment center about 30 minutes from home. I have about 50 students, grades 2-8. I can’t believe I get paid to do this! Zachary is in 3rd grade and Lucas
is in kindergarten. Both kids have amazing teachers this year – seriously,
I’m convinced that these women have extra hours in their day! Zach and Luke are above grade level in all
subjects, and their teachers think outside of the box and go the extra mile to
challenge and encourage them to reach their potential. Each of our boys LOVES school, and for that
we are so very grateful.
Zachary has been playing piano now for 16 months. He is currently working on a selection of
Christmas songs to play at retirement / nursing homes in the area. Bryan’s granny was admitted to a rehab center
for a month on Christmas Eve a few years ago (following a serious illness), so
we know just how much people in such situations love visits and music…
especially at Christmas, when it’s so hard to be away from home. Zach has a sweet heart and cannot wait to
bring this gift of music (and a plate of cookies) to others!
The boys are awesome – very happy, thoughtful, sensitive,
generous, funny and fun-loving. It is
truly a blessing that God would entrust them to us.
I continued to run in 2012.
I spent the summer training for a sprint distance triathlon with my dear
friend, Tiffany. We put in a lot of
hours of swimming, biking and running for our early Sept. triathlon. As soon as that race was over, I had to step
up my running in preparation for a half marathon, so I enlisted the help of my
friend Marcy to get me through the long weekend runs. The St. Jude Memphis Half Marathon was my
most recent “Is this really happening?” moment.
The race was just last weekend, and I still can’t believe that I can run
more than 13.1 miles non-stop. I also
cannot believe that I traveled there with fifteen
other girls (including Tiffany!), coordinating when and where we were going
successfully for three whole days. That,
in and of itself, is quite a feat!
Did I mention that all of this running has turned me into a
morning person? (Who’d have
thought?) In order to keep my training
from interfering with my family’s schedule, I run while my family is
sleeping. Since this works so well, I
decided to give early morning Bible study a shot. I asked around to see if anyone would be
interested, and now we’ve got a group of 5 girls meeting at 5:30am on Tuesdays
to study God’s word. It’s early, but
it’s incredible to start my day with a Chai Tea Latte, five close friends, and God’s
word.
Bryan is still enjoying his job at the railroad. He’s made a lot of good friends, and
has figured out how to successfully juggle his evening shifts, mid-week
“weekends”, time with the kids and me, and sleep. It is not always easy, but we make it
work. Any drawbacks to his job do not
compare to 9 years of employment instability (or running a paper route for 11
months), so instead of complaining about the little things, we are simply
grateful for the blessing of a job and the stability that it brings. God has been so very good in meeting our
every need.
One of my favorite changes in 2012 … maybe my very favorite … is that Bryan and I are
teaching Sunday school together. We each
lead a discussion table during children’s church (grades 3-5). His table is filled primarily with boys
(including our son), while mine is usually all girls. Sharing God’s word with kids is such a
precious opportunity, and we are both completely committed to pouring into
these kids’ lives every chance we get.
It has been an enormous blessing to me to see this side of Bryan. While he never saw it coming, he’s truly a
natural with the kids and other leaders!
We are supposed to be the ones teaching, but I’m awe-struck by just how
much we are learning.
This year has definitely been one of change, both sad and …
well … nothing short of miraculous. As
we close out the year, we reflect on all that we have been given. God has been overwhelmingly good to us,
blessing us far beyond measure and far beyond anything we could ever pass on to
others.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
What a run!
My mother would have been 66 tomorrow.
October has been a difficult month for me for as long as I can remember, as every year I ached from the pains of not having the relationship I'd wanted with her. The pain this year is different... I'm missing her - just as I had for so many years - but now there's the added ache of finality. Finality on earth, anyway.
In the last couple of weeks, I've struggled to put a name with the dull ache constantly hovering right below the surface. Exhaustion? Failure? Loneliness? Frustration? Life is good; however, overwhelmingly busy right now... There's that nagging feeling that I'm doing a lot of things, but nothing particularly well. I had chalked my sad nameless feelings up to a challenging season of life...and stuffed away the pain of missing Mom.
Last weekend, I was part of a marathon relay team. I'd picked my leg sight unseen. I had no idea what neighborhood I'd be in or what landmarks I'd run past. Had I known that the first 3.5 miles would be uphill, I probably wouldn't have picked it. I traveled by bus out to my transition station in the dark and waited for 3 1/2 hours before my turn to run. I was at my stop for nearly an hour before the sun started to come up. Only then did I realize where I was sitting.
Directly west of a park I know from my childhood.
My mom was the team caption of her company's March of Dimes team walk when I was young, and this particular park was at the finish. We had many-a-picnic in this park after the walk when I was a kid.
I took a walk down the street and paused to take in the beautiful sunrise over the creek. My mom would have loved this. And I loved remembering all the times we'd been here together years ago.
I'm not sure exactly where my mom lived when she was a girl, but I always imagined it was near here.
And I know her high school was just up the street ... I ran past it!
I'd never been in this part of town on foot (this race took me in the opposite direction as Mom's March of Dimes walks), and here I was...seeing it in all of it's beautiful fall glory...one footstep at a time for 6.77 miles. It could not have been a prettier day. (Note: Except for the sunrise over the creek, these pictures were taken 8 days after the race. Imagine gorgeous red and orange leaves on the bare trees.)
When I turned off to head north, I found myself winding through Hyde Park. I ran within a block of the chapel where Bryan and I married.
And the finish line is just blocks from where we held our wedding reception. What wonderful memories.
And my mom's office is across the street from there.
Saturday's race could not have been more perfectly timed. It was an impulse race for me ... but God so clearly had a plan for it!
When my mom passed away in March, I remember thinking that God knew I was going to need running this year. Evidently He knew I was going to need running right now specifically.
I rarely run alone anymore. I have trained almost exclusively with friends since June! In fact, I'm so used to running with friends, that I didn't know how I was going to run alone - with only my iPod - for such a distance.
But, when the time came, I turned to the only playlist I've ever run to, and sang worship songs the entire way. I ran faster than I've ever run that distance - faster than I've ever even run a 5k! I felt my mother close every step of the way... And I was privileged to run alongside marathoners in their final stretch of a grueling race. Many limping, bleeding, clearly in pain but determined to overcome their obstacles.
And I did it all with dear friends. Friends who fought the good fight and finished the race.
Every runner faced their own challenges that day - or in the days leading up to the race - but every one of us forged ahead.
It was, without question, a healing, spiritual kind of day. I felt close to my mom, held tight by my loving heavenly father, and reminded again of all the greatness in my life. I really needed that.
"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18
God is so good, ever-present and generous.
October has been a difficult month for me for as long as I can remember, as every year I ached from the pains of not having the relationship I'd wanted with her. The pain this year is different... I'm missing her - just as I had for so many years - but now there's the added ache of finality. Finality on earth, anyway.
In the last couple of weeks, I've struggled to put a name with the dull ache constantly hovering right below the surface. Exhaustion? Failure? Loneliness? Frustration? Life is good; however, overwhelmingly busy right now... There's that nagging feeling that I'm doing a lot of things, but nothing particularly well. I had chalked my sad nameless feelings up to a challenging season of life...and stuffed away the pain of missing Mom.
Last weekend, I was part of a marathon relay team. I'd picked my leg sight unseen. I had no idea what neighborhood I'd be in or what landmarks I'd run past. Had I known that the first 3.5 miles would be uphill, I probably wouldn't have picked it. I traveled by bus out to my transition station in the dark and waited for 3 1/2 hours before my turn to run. I was at my stop for nearly an hour before the sun started to come up. Only then did I realize where I was sitting.
Directly west of a park I know from my childhood.
My mom was the team caption of her company's March of Dimes team walk when I was young, and this particular park was at the finish. We had many-a-picnic in this park after the walk when I was a kid.
I took a walk down the street and paused to take in the beautiful sunrise over the creek. My mom would have loved this. And I loved remembering all the times we'd been here together years ago.
I'm not sure exactly where my mom lived when she was a girl, but I always imagined it was near here.
And I know her high school was just up the street ... I ran past it!
I'd never been in this part of town on foot (this race took me in the opposite direction as Mom's March of Dimes walks), and here I was...seeing it in all of it's beautiful fall glory...one footstep at a time for 6.77 miles. It could not have been a prettier day. (Note: Except for the sunrise over the creek, these pictures were taken 8 days after the race. Imagine gorgeous red and orange leaves on the bare trees.)
When I turned off to head north, I found myself winding through Hyde Park. I ran within a block of the chapel where Bryan and I married.
And the finish line is just blocks from where we held our wedding reception. What wonderful memories.
And my mom's office is across the street from there.
Saturday's race could not have been more perfectly timed. It was an impulse race for me ... but God so clearly had a plan for it!
When my mom passed away in March, I remember thinking that God knew I was going to need running this year. Evidently He knew I was going to need running right now specifically.
I rarely run alone anymore. I have trained almost exclusively with friends since June! In fact, I'm so used to running with friends, that I didn't know how I was going to run alone - with only my iPod - for such a distance.
But, when the time came, I turned to the only playlist I've ever run to, and sang worship songs the entire way. I ran faster than I've ever run that distance - faster than I've ever even run a 5k! I felt my mother close every step of the way... And I was privileged to run alongside marathoners in their final stretch of a grueling race. Many limping, bleeding, clearly in pain but determined to overcome their obstacles.
And I did it all with dear friends. Friends who fought the good fight and finished the race.
Every runner faced their own challenges that day - or in the days leading up to the race - but every one of us forged ahead.
It was, without question, a healing, spiritual kind of day. I felt close to my mom, held tight by my loving heavenly father, and reminded again of all the greatness in my life. I really needed that.
"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18
God is so good, ever-present and generous.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
The world is loud ... but not our guiding force
It could simply be the circles I run in, but it seems as if a huge number of families these days is dealing with at least one child who struggles with anxiety, insecurity, or feelings of being overwhelmed. My heart aches for these kids...
These kids that I know are not unloved or unchurched. They are not neglected. They are not under-encouraged or ill-prepared. Their parents are not oblivious or uninvolved.
So why are these young people overwhelmed by their lives?
Kids are kids. Shouldn't they be playing, laughing, riding bikes, skipping rocks, exploring...enjoying this season of innocence and little responsibility?
But... When I take a step back and look at the environment our kids are growing up in, I see a great deal of competition. In everything from sports, to popularity, to exclusive recess clubs, to test scores, to keeping up with the Joneses. In elementary school!
At lunch this afternoon, I saw a table of moms wearing t-shirts that read, "Playing against our team is hard. Playing for our team is even harder."
What is the purpose of these shirts? To intimidate the other team? [The kids couldn't have been more than 9 years old... If intimidating them is the goal, the adults should be ashamed.] To inspire their team to greatness? [Who wants to play on a team that is HARD to play for ... especially at age nine?]
But, when I read it, I felt like it answered my question.
Why are kids overwhelmed? Because we've made everything so hard.
So intense.
With our words, we tell them that winning isn't everything. We tell them that they don't have to BE the best, they just have to TRY their best. But, when we think the kids aren't listening [or we're out of control], the truth slips out. The desired outcome for so many is excellence. To be the very best. To WIN.
That parent scolding their child from the sidelines because he missed a shot? That kid's best effort today was not good enough. The parent [coach] that forced his child to play in tears, then picked him up and carried him off the field while yelling in his face because he hit the ball well but was thrown out at first because he didn't run hard enough? That kid's best effort today was not good enough. The coach who screamed insults and directions at his players and bullied teenaged officials [while parents sat silently] throughout the entire game? The team's [and officials'] best effort today wasn't good enough.
Even if none of these things have ever happened directly to one of my kids, my kids still saw it. And the message that winning matters was received loud and clear. Somehow, in spite of all of the times my husband and I have assured our children that only their very best effort matters, they hear something different from the world, and it overwhelms them. The world is loud.
And, it doesn't stop at sports. Our kids are inundated all day every day with having to be the best. The top speller, reader, writer and mathematician in the classroom. The best knock-out or kickball player at recess. The best gift-giver at birthday parties. The funniest at lunch. The owner of the coolest backpack or skateboard.
Of course most parents don't directly tell their kids that they have to reign supreme in every area of their lives, but what we tolerate from our coaches, and how much of our schedule is dedicated to sports, and the things parents shout from the sidelines, and how we respond to grades and talk about our kids' teachers and school administrators, even how we talk about our neighbors and select birthday gifts and birthday guest lists ... it all writes on their hearts and tells them what matters most.
And I think it overwhelms a lot of kids. Heck, I think it overwhelms a lot of adults.
Because things have become so intense, so competitive ... we have overwhelmed our schedules with multiple weekly practices and regular season and tournament games - sometimes for more than one sport in a season. Throw in summer tutors and enrichment work. And ultra packed social schedules during our limited down time. And music lessons. And somehow, in an effort to balance things, we even add in volunteer work and keep up all church commitments.
And when parents intentionally choose not to over-schedule, there are the down-lookers who seem to be judging us. There are countless catty comments and unsolicited advice about how we're putting our kids at a competitive disadvantage, sometimes disguised as teasing or simply delivered as a backhanded compliment about how our kids might be able to read, but theirs is a stand-out athlete. As if we are under-achievers... And, if I feel like an under-achiever, how must my child feel?
It's a vicious cycle... It really is no wonder that so many people are overwhelmed, insecure and anxious. We live in a very busy, competitive world. And it starts early.
But, it doesn't have to be this hard. I'm just not sold on the idea that the competition has to be so great at such an early age [or any age]. And I'll never be convinced that ruling ones schedule and crushing their self-esteem is the path to success.
"Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory." Colossians 3:2-4
"Let's just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren't." Romans 12:6
"Look to the LORD and his strength; seek his face always." Psalm 105:4
These kids that I know are not unloved or unchurched. They are not neglected. They are not under-encouraged or ill-prepared. Their parents are not oblivious or uninvolved.
So why are these young people overwhelmed by their lives?
Kids are kids. Shouldn't they be playing, laughing, riding bikes, skipping rocks, exploring...enjoying this season of innocence and little responsibility?
But... When I take a step back and look at the environment our kids are growing up in, I see a great deal of competition. In everything from sports, to popularity, to exclusive recess clubs, to test scores, to keeping up with the Joneses. In elementary school!
At lunch this afternoon, I saw a table of moms wearing t-shirts that read, "Playing against our team is hard. Playing for our team is even harder."
What is the purpose of these shirts? To intimidate the other team? [The kids couldn't have been more than 9 years old... If intimidating them is the goal, the adults should be ashamed.] To inspire their team to greatness? [Who wants to play on a team that is HARD to play for ... especially at age nine?]
But, when I read it, I felt like it answered my question.
Why are kids overwhelmed? Because we've made everything so hard.
So intense.
With our words, we tell them that winning isn't everything. We tell them that they don't have to BE the best, they just have to TRY their best. But, when we think the kids aren't listening [or we're out of control], the truth slips out. The desired outcome for so many is excellence. To be the very best. To WIN.
That parent scolding their child from the sidelines because he missed a shot? That kid's best effort today was not good enough. The parent [coach] that forced his child to play in tears, then picked him up and carried him off the field while yelling in his face because he hit the ball well but was thrown out at first because he didn't run hard enough? That kid's best effort today was not good enough. The coach who screamed insults and directions at his players and bullied teenaged officials [while parents sat silently] throughout the entire game? The team's [and officials'] best effort today wasn't good enough.
Even if none of these things have ever happened directly to one of my kids, my kids still saw it. And the message that winning matters was received loud and clear. Somehow, in spite of all of the times my husband and I have assured our children that only their very best effort matters, they hear something different from the world, and it overwhelms them. The world is loud.
And, it doesn't stop at sports. Our kids are inundated all day every day with having to be the best. The top speller, reader, writer and mathematician in the classroom. The best knock-out or kickball player at recess. The best gift-giver at birthday parties. The funniest at lunch. The owner of the coolest backpack or skateboard.
Of course most parents don't directly tell their kids that they have to reign supreme in every area of their lives, but what we tolerate from our coaches, and how much of our schedule is dedicated to sports, and the things parents shout from the sidelines, and how we respond to grades and talk about our kids' teachers and school administrators, even how we talk about our neighbors and select birthday gifts and birthday guest lists ... it all writes on their hearts and tells them what matters most.
And I think it overwhelms a lot of kids. Heck, I think it overwhelms a lot of adults.
Because things have become so intense, so competitive ... we have overwhelmed our schedules with multiple weekly practices and regular season and tournament games - sometimes for more than one sport in a season. Throw in summer tutors and enrichment work. And ultra packed social schedules during our limited down time. And music lessons. And somehow, in an effort to balance things, we even add in volunteer work and keep up all church commitments.
And when parents intentionally choose not to over-schedule, there are the down-lookers who seem to be judging us. There are countless catty comments and unsolicited advice about how we're putting our kids at a competitive disadvantage, sometimes disguised as teasing or simply delivered as a backhanded compliment about how our kids might be able to read, but theirs is a stand-out athlete. As if we are under-achievers... And, if I feel like an under-achiever, how must my child feel?
It's a vicious cycle... It really is no wonder that so many people are overwhelmed, insecure and anxious. We live in a very busy, competitive world. And it starts early.
But, it doesn't have to be this hard. I'm just not sold on the idea that the competition has to be so great at such an early age [or any age]. And I'll never be convinced that ruling ones schedule and crushing their self-esteem is the path to success.
"Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory." Colossians 3:2-4
"Let's just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren't." Romans 12:6
"Look to the LORD and his strength; seek his face always." Psalm 105:4
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Growth
As I tucked the boys in tonight, we discussed all of the areas where they've grown over the summer.
Sports camps grew Zach in confidence and comfort on the field. The difference between soccer now and soccer last spring is remarkable. Not that he's suddenly a super star, but he plays with utter joy and excitement. We're seeing a hunger that we haven't seen in a long time, and he's wearing a smile again as he runs the field.
Luke moved very quickly from t-ball, to coach pitch, to machine pitch baseball between the spring and summer. For a group of boys who didn't know which direction to run to get to first base, we're thoroughly impressed with how they are now fielding the ball and consistently hitting. We are a team of kindergartners, playing 1st and 2nd graders in fall ball. These kids are a full head (or two) taller than most of our players, but we hold our own. And we couldn't be more proud of Luke, as he pays attention to the game and always gives his best effort.
Both boys were offered $25 if they would take the time to learn - and use - the free style stroke in the pool...all summer long. Zachary is the only one who actually used it consistently, so I'll be forking over the big bucks to him tomorrow. It beats paying for swim lessons, and I'm thrilled that at least one of my kids came out of this summer a strong swimmer. Luke is well on his way; he was just more concerned with hand stands and somersaults than he was with swimming this summer.
Diving was another hot pool pursuit. Luke's is still more of a belly flop, but Zach has turned into a good diver...even though diving is prohibited at every pool we've ever been to. (What's up with that?) I'm not sure that diving could be considered a necessary life skill, but it's fun. And, it seems to me that a belly flop hurts less from the side of the pool than from the diving board, so why not start at the side? (Yes, I did just justify breaking the rules....and I'm generally a lover and follower of all rules.)
And they both went off the high dive this summer! Luke only did it once, as he didn't really like it. But Zach loved it, and is now a lover of the diving boards. This was a paralyzing fear last summer. Poor Zach would try every time we went to the pool, but just couldn't talk himself into it. This year he took the leap of faith, and he's never looked back.
The boys grew a ton socially too, as both kids developed a lot of friendships over the summer. Zach discovered that a group of school friends lives just a couple of blocks away, so they are now taking frequent turns walking or biking to each others houses to play. And Luke met several neighborhood kindergarten boys over the summer through sports, and almost all of them are in his kindergarten class! It's nice to finally have "neighborhood kids".
And each of the boys has also found some really great friends through church. Many of these are kids who also go to school with them, but some are simply kids they see each week in Sunday school. It's taken a long time to start asking other kids what their names are and what they're interested in, but we are finally arriving at that place in their social lives.
And when a friend recently ditched Zach again for someone else, Zach didn't allow it to define him, but instead shrugged his shoulders and said, "I think that's just the way he is." He's beginning to understand who and whose he is, and is resisting the enemy's lies that every bad thing has something to do with him.
As we quickly rattled off half a dozen ways that each kid grew over the summer, I was awed by the work God has done in their lives. These are areas that we have prayed over....and sometimes shed tears and lost sleep over. And God has met them right where they were at, and given them just what they needed. I cannot even begin to imagine all that He will do in these next nine months of the school year, as we are partnered with outstanding school and Sunday school teachers. I'm excited and so full of hope. I won't wish these months away, but I do look forward to who my guys will grow into as a 3rd grader and kindergartner.
"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
Sports camps grew Zach in confidence and comfort on the field. The difference between soccer now and soccer last spring is remarkable. Not that he's suddenly a super star, but he plays with utter joy and excitement. We're seeing a hunger that we haven't seen in a long time, and he's wearing a smile again as he runs the field.
Luke moved very quickly from t-ball, to coach pitch, to machine pitch baseball between the spring and summer. For a group of boys who didn't know which direction to run to get to first base, we're thoroughly impressed with how they are now fielding the ball and consistently hitting. We are a team of kindergartners, playing 1st and 2nd graders in fall ball. These kids are a full head (or two) taller than most of our players, but we hold our own. And we couldn't be more proud of Luke, as he pays attention to the game and always gives his best effort.
Both boys were offered $25 if they would take the time to learn - and use - the free style stroke in the pool...all summer long. Zachary is the only one who actually used it consistently, so I'll be forking over the big bucks to him tomorrow. It beats paying for swim lessons, and I'm thrilled that at least one of my kids came out of this summer a strong swimmer. Luke is well on his way; he was just more concerned with hand stands and somersaults than he was with swimming this summer.
Diving was another hot pool pursuit. Luke's is still more of a belly flop, but Zach has turned into a good diver...even though diving is prohibited at every pool we've ever been to. (What's up with that?) I'm not sure that diving could be considered a necessary life skill, but it's fun. And, it seems to me that a belly flop hurts less from the side of the pool than from the diving board, so why not start at the side? (Yes, I did just justify breaking the rules....and I'm generally a lover and follower of all rules.)
And they both went off the high dive this summer! Luke only did it once, as he didn't really like it. But Zach loved it, and is now a lover of the diving boards. This was a paralyzing fear last summer. Poor Zach would try every time we went to the pool, but just couldn't talk himself into it. This year he took the leap of faith, and he's never looked back.
The boys grew a ton socially too, as both kids developed a lot of friendships over the summer. Zach discovered that a group of school friends lives just a couple of blocks away, so they are now taking frequent turns walking or biking to each others houses to play. And Luke met several neighborhood kindergarten boys over the summer through sports, and almost all of them are in his kindergarten class! It's nice to finally have "neighborhood kids".
And each of the boys has also found some really great friends through church. Many of these are kids who also go to school with them, but some are simply kids they see each week in Sunday school. It's taken a long time to start asking other kids what their names are and what they're interested in, but we are finally arriving at that place in their social lives.
And when a friend recently ditched Zach again for someone else, Zach didn't allow it to define him, but instead shrugged his shoulders and said, "I think that's just the way he is." He's beginning to understand who and whose he is, and is resisting the enemy's lies that every bad thing has something to do with him.
As we quickly rattled off half a dozen ways that each kid grew over the summer, I was awed by the work God has done in their lives. These are areas that we have prayed over....and sometimes shed tears and lost sleep over. And God has met them right where they were at, and given them just what they needed. I cannot even begin to imagine all that He will do in these next nine months of the school year, as we are partnered with outstanding school and Sunday school teachers. I'm excited and so full of hope. I won't wish these months away, but I do look forward to who my guys will grow into as a 3rd grader and kindergartner.
"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
He teaches me...
I vividly remember sitting on my deck in the summer of 2003, very pregnant with my first child, talking with my sister-in-law on the phone about my quickly approaching motherhood. As we chatted, she said something that has played out time and again in the years since.
"Being a mother is like walking around with your heart beating outside your body."
She was so right. My heart most definitely feels as if it's on the outside of my body sometimes. And never more than when I'm watching my kids suffer.
As I watched one of my boys writhing in agony yesterday, completely overcome with anxiety, fear and doubt, my heart was breaking... All I could do was remind him, over and over again, of the truth. God made you exactly as you are. He gave you talents and areas of difficulty - this is by design. He wants to use you, just the way you are. Honor God by being you. In your weakness, He is strong. God wouldn't ask you to do something and then abandon you there alone. Don't panic, pray.
Don't panic. Pray. How many times have I gotten that wrong? But, I digress...
We prayed over the situation with our guy yesterday. He sobbed, he nearly hyperventilated, he rubbed his eyes red, and he got a headache... But, eventually, he got back up, blew his nose, and determined to trust God. He began to prepare himself for the task at hand, through prayer and practice. At first, the practicing was pretty puny, but by the end he was completely on board. That night, he went to bed with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.
And this morning, he did it. He led worship in kids church.
For my guy, this is a really big deal. He does not like performing. He does not like eyes on him. He does not like risking "failure" or embarrassment.
But he loves God. And he's excited to let God work in him and through him. And he loves worship. And he loves his brother...and wants to be a part of his big kid church experience.
So often, I marvel at how we're able to coach him through a situation because we have the knowledge, but then he turns around and teaches me so very much about faith, courage and obedience as he actually does it.
My young guy is something else. I always say that he's going to be a really remarkable man.....so long as I can get him to adulthood. But, really, he's pretty remarkable already.
I could not be more impressed or inspired by him.
Today I praise God for his constant presence and comfort. For the truths found in his Word, and for the abundant encouragement from the people in our lives. And for passion....especially passions that are simply about jubilation, and are not necessarily areas we feel gifted in.
"Being a mother is like walking around with your heart beating outside your body."
She was so right. My heart most definitely feels as if it's on the outside of my body sometimes. And never more than when I'm watching my kids suffer.
As I watched one of my boys writhing in agony yesterday, completely overcome with anxiety, fear and doubt, my heart was breaking... All I could do was remind him, over and over again, of the truth. God made you exactly as you are. He gave you talents and areas of difficulty - this is by design. He wants to use you, just the way you are. Honor God by being you. In your weakness, He is strong. God wouldn't ask you to do something and then abandon you there alone. Don't panic, pray.
Don't panic. Pray. How many times have I gotten that wrong? But, I digress...
We prayed over the situation with our guy yesterday. He sobbed, he nearly hyperventilated, he rubbed his eyes red, and he got a headache... But, eventually, he got back up, blew his nose, and determined to trust God. He began to prepare himself for the task at hand, through prayer and practice. At first, the practicing was pretty puny, but by the end he was completely on board. That night, he went to bed with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.
And this morning, he did it. He led worship in kids church.
For my guy, this is a really big deal. He does not like performing. He does not like eyes on him. He does not like risking "failure" or embarrassment.
But he loves God. And he's excited to let God work in him and through him. And he loves worship. And he loves his brother...and wants to be a part of his big kid church experience.
So often, I marvel at how we're able to coach him through a situation because we have the knowledge, but then he turns around and teaches me so very much about faith, courage and obedience as he actually does it.
My young guy is something else. I always say that he's going to be a really remarkable man.....so long as I can get him to adulthood. But, really, he's pretty remarkable already.
I could not be more impressed or inspired by him.
Today I praise God for his constant presence and comfort. For the truths found in his Word, and for the abundant encouragement from the people in our lives. And for passion....especially passions that are simply about jubilation, and are not necessarily areas we feel gifted in.
Friday, August 24, 2012
The really hard [tear jerking] part
Five months ago, I was in the foggy throws of planning my mother's funeral. As I went through the motions with my brother and sister, I carefully considered what I wanted to say at her funeral. It wasn't determined yet who would speak, but I knew God was laying things on my heart that were meant to be shared. Ultimately, I wrote the draft of her eulogy with my brother and sister's input, rewrote it with their edits, and stood there crying as my brother read it.
I have not yet spoken those sentiments myself in front of a group of people.
But I will tomorrow.
I am naturally a crier. I often wish I wasn't, and occasionally I even pray that God would harden me up ... even if just a little bit.
But, so far, no such luck.
So, I'm here writing... Hoping that sharing here just how hard this is might at least ease those nerves.
I have shared my story hundreds of times, and my tone is never an angry, embittered, unforgiving one, but I feel even more sensitive to it now that she has passed. I really do not want to hurt my brother and sister, or my mother's siblings, or our extended family, or even my mother's memory as I honestly share the ugly truth... Not that what happened didn't happen, or shouldn't be discussed. Because it did, and it should. Because, as I openly share, it allows others the freedom to share and examine their own unresolved pain. What I went through can be used to help others get through what they're going through.
The really hard [tear jerking] part is that merely saying her name hurts my heart. As each month has passed, it's been that much longer since we were together. And it somehow feels like the missing gets worse, as it's evident that she's not coming back and our lives continue on.
And I didn't have a "normal" mom. My mom was hurt. And she hurt others. It wasn't until the final few years that she really made significant efforts to learn to love. In the end, but only for a couple of years, we had a loving relationship. It was still effected by pains from the past, but it was genuinely good, and loving, and fulfilling. I'm so very grateful for it, but it was simply too short.
So, that is how I think tomorrow's talk ends... [Mind you, this is only the few-second version of my 40 minute talk...] With the message that sometimes we need distance in a relationship to mend our hearts and prepare us for reconciliation. And that reconciliation is a precious gift.
Praise the Lord that my heart is heavy not because of what I never had, but because of what lasted only a short while....and that I miss deeply.
I have not yet spoken those sentiments myself in front of a group of people.
But I will tomorrow.
I am naturally a crier. I often wish I wasn't, and occasionally I even pray that God would harden me up ... even if just a little bit.
But, so far, no such luck.
So, I'm here writing... Hoping that sharing here just how hard this is might at least ease those nerves.
I have shared my story hundreds of times, and my tone is never an angry, embittered, unforgiving one, but I feel even more sensitive to it now that she has passed. I really do not want to hurt my brother and sister, or my mother's siblings, or our extended family, or even my mother's memory as I honestly share the ugly truth... Not that what happened didn't happen, or shouldn't be discussed. Because it did, and it should. Because, as I openly share, it allows others the freedom to share and examine their own unresolved pain. What I went through can be used to help others get through what they're going through.
The really hard [tear jerking] part is that merely saying her name hurts my heart. As each month has passed, it's been that much longer since we were together. And it somehow feels like the missing gets worse, as it's evident that she's not coming back and our lives continue on.
And I didn't have a "normal" mom. My mom was hurt. And she hurt others. It wasn't until the final few years that she really made significant efforts to learn to love. In the end, but only for a couple of years, we had a loving relationship. It was still effected by pains from the past, but it was genuinely good, and loving, and fulfilling. I'm so very grateful for it, but it was simply too short.
So, that is how I think tomorrow's talk ends... [Mind you, this is only the few-second version of my 40 minute talk...] With the message that sometimes we need distance in a relationship to mend our hearts and prepare us for reconciliation. And that reconciliation is a precious gift.
Praise the Lord that my heart is heavy not because of what I never had, but because of what lasted only a short while....and that I miss deeply.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
God's got this
That's a first...
I just left my kids in bed, and one was crying and wouldn't tell me why. "It's okay" and "you can't do anything about it anyway" were uttered time and again when I tried to get him to talk with me.
We had a really rough day. Emotions were ever-bubbling at the surface. One child is returning to school tomorrow after a very difficult year ... and taking a really awesome, unexpected [nerve-wracking] field trip (hours by bus) to make a documentary of the K-State football program on the 2nd day of school. One is beginning kindergarten the following day. Bryan is working evenings, so, aside from breakfast, he won't see Zach three days a week (the pits for everyone). I've slept poorly and woken early for the last 10 days or so, leaving me a little less than pleasant and patient.
And then KFC got Luke's dinner all wrong (discovered at home). And Zach's nose piece fell off his glasses (after our optical place closed). And one of my kids spit water on the other (gasp!). And one got whacked in the back in a Nerf sword battle. Normal things ... going dramatically wrong. It's been rough.
So... What was I to do with a crying child who wouldn't confide in me? Pray. And hold him as much as he'd let me. And remind him that Daddy and I are here.
That's all I could do. I prayed with him, reminded him, reminded myself ... that God's got this. Whatever it is that's troubling my guy, God's got it.
This is the first time that he's ever not allowed me to hold him close. It's the first time he's ever refused to talk with me. It's the first time he's ever nodded off with tears still streaming (with exception of the baby days).
Honestly, I'd hoped that he'd come down a few minutes after I left, having seen the light... Realizing that confiding in Mom is the right approach. But he didn't.
And I expect that this won't be the last time he takes that approach.
I don't love it. But, I'm praying for my boy. And with him. Constantly praying for God's arms to wrap themselves around him, for Zach to know His presence, for confidence in who and whose he is, and for the constant nudging for Zach to keep an open dialogue with his heavenly father. It's no picnic, getting shut out as his confidant... But, God's got this.
And I'm amazed at how God's grown me. Some of you are reading this, remembering Tonya from a few years back that would need a padded room on a day like today.
But, God's got this. All of this.
"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." Phil. 4:6
I just left my kids in bed, and one was crying and wouldn't tell me why. "It's okay" and "you can't do anything about it anyway" were uttered time and again when I tried to get him to talk with me.
We had a really rough day. Emotions were ever-bubbling at the surface. One child is returning to school tomorrow after a very difficult year ... and taking a really awesome, unexpected [nerve-wracking] field trip (hours by bus) to make a documentary of the K-State football program on the 2nd day of school. One is beginning kindergarten the following day. Bryan is working evenings, so, aside from breakfast, he won't see Zach three days a week (the pits for everyone). I've slept poorly and woken early for the last 10 days or so, leaving me a little less than pleasant and patient.
And then KFC got Luke's dinner all wrong (discovered at home). And Zach's nose piece fell off his glasses (after our optical place closed). And one of my kids spit water on the other (gasp!). And one got whacked in the back in a Nerf sword battle. Normal things ... going dramatically wrong. It's been rough.
So... What was I to do with a crying child who wouldn't confide in me? Pray. And hold him as much as he'd let me. And remind him that Daddy and I are here.
That's all I could do. I prayed with him, reminded him, reminded myself ... that God's got this. Whatever it is that's troubling my guy, God's got it.
This is the first time that he's ever not allowed me to hold him close. It's the first time he's ever refused to talk with me. It's the first time he's ever nodded off with tears still streaming (with exception of the baby days).
Honestly, I'd hoped that he'd come down a few minutes after I left, having seen the light... Realizing that confiding in Mom is the right approach. But he didn't.
And I expect that this won't be the last time he takes that approach.
I don't love it. But, I'm praying for my boy. And with him. Constantly praying for God's arms to wrap themselves around him, for Zach to know His presence, for confidence in who and whose he is, and for the constant nudging for Zach to keep an open dialogue with his heavenly father. It's no picnic, getting shut out as his confidant... But, God's got this.
And I'm amazed at how God's grown me. Some of you are reading this, remembering Tonya from a few years back that would need a padded room on a day like today.
But, God's got this. All of this.
"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." Phil. 4:6
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Perspective
As a blog post is brewing in my heart, I sometimes think that my blog subtitle should be "making other moms feel superior one post at a time". After all, my pattern is generally to blow it royally for a really long time before something smarter occurs to me. Read: I get in my own way. I make matters worse. I'm a slow learner.
Confession: My husband and I have occasionally been guilty of comparing our kids' performance to other kids'. When our kids didn't "get it right", we inevitably found ourselves on a mission to help them "get it right". If we're being completely honest, this helping was generally more upsetting than anything - for everyone - as we'd somehow end up saying or insinuating that our son was blowing it by not trying hard enough, or not taking it seriously enough, or not practicing hard enough. Although we never meant it this way, basically the message received was often that our kid wasn't good enough.
I know. Horrible. Right?
Is it just this ridiculous pressure to fit in? To conform? To have a reputation?
That's laughable... After all, we're talking about little kids here!
And, frankly, that last one makes my stomach flip ... but I think there's some truth to it. I don't worry anymore about my reputation, but my kids still have their entire lives ahead of them and I don't want them to be teased or isolated for not having the just-so reputation.
Gulp.
I know that there is absolutely nothing godly about that thought process... But this is an area where I struggle. I want my kids to have an "easier" time of it, and that includes being easily accepted by their peers.
And then we go and muddy the waters completely by sending the message - through all of our help - that they are not good enough.
I've been convicted.
Certainly, we do expect full effort in all areas ... but how my kid stacks up to your kid doesn't matter. How my kid feels about himself is what matters. Does he finish with a smile? Does he feel built up and successful? Is he proud of himself? Is he happy? Was it fun? These are the things that matter.
We can study and practice till the cows come home, but we are no longer comparing our kids to other kids. It's entirely about being the best version of themselves.
Today, I watched my oldest play soccer with fresher eyes. He's on a really good team, with really competitive kids who play a lot of different sports year round. And, my guy is ... well ... analytical, slower, not eager to get physical, not one to over-schedule ... but he rocked it his way today.
With our support [with us off his back], he had the freedom to simply have fun and be himself. It was a tournament, playing against elite teams, and our kids are really focused on learning their positions and responsibilities this season ... and Zach has an excellent memory for those kinds of things. He knows the rules and doesn't break them - no off-sides for our guy. And every time someone had to throw-in or take a goal kick ... he knew which player had that job and was telling them where to be and when. He was an excellent player-coach today. And he got in there and fought for the ball every chance he got. And I've got to think that it was, in part, because we just stayed out of the way and let him do his thing. However quirky.
And he had a blast. Their team rarely loses, but they lost all three tournament games this weekend. But Zach came off the field saying, "Wow, they are elite teams and we're just a rec team. I bet they think we're an elite team too, because we're really good."
That's the smile we're looking for.
Confession: My husband and I have occasionally been guilty of comparing our kids' performance to other kids'. When our kids didn't "get it right", we inevitably found ourselves on a mission to help them "get it right". If we're being completely honest, this helping was generally more upsetting than anything - for everyone - as we'd somehow end up saying or insinuating that our son was blowing it by not trying hard enough, or not taking it seriously enough, or not practicing hard enough. Although we never meant it this way, basically the message received was often that our kid wasn't good enough.
I know. Horrible. Right?
Is it just this ridiculous pressure to fit in? To conform? To have a reputation?
That's laughable... After all, we're talking about little kids here!
And, frankly, that last one makes my stomach flip ... but I think there's some truth to it. I don't worry anymore about my reputation, but my kids still have their entire lives ahead of them and I don't want them to be teased or isolated for not having the just-so reputation.
Gulp.
I know that there is absolutely nothing godly about that thought process... But this is an area where I struggle. I want my kids to have an "easier" time of it, and that includes being easily accepted by their peers.
And then we go and muddy the waters completely by sending the message - through all of our help - that they are not good enough.
I've been convicted.
Certainly, we do expect full effort in all areas ... but how my kid stacks up to your kid doesn't matter. How my kid feels about himself is what matters. Does he finish with a smile? Does he feel built up and successful? Is he proud of himself? Is he happy? Was it fun? These are the things that matter.
We can study and practice till the cows come home, but we are no longer comparing our kids to other kids. It's entirely about being the best version of themselves.
Today, I watched my oldest play soccer with fresher eyes. He's on a really good team, with really competitive kids who play a lot of different sports year round. And, my guy is ... well ... analytical, slower, not eager to get physical, not one to over-schedule ... but he rocked it his way today.
With our support [with us off his back], he had the freedom to simply have fun and be himself. It was a tournament, playing against elite teams, and our kids are really focused on learning their positions and responsibilities this season ... and Zach has an excellent memory for those kinds of things. He knows the rules and doesn't break them - no off-sides for our guy. And every time someone had to throw-in or take a goal kick ... he knew which player had that job and was telling them where to be and when. He was an excellent player-coach today. And he got in there and fought for the ball every chance he got. And I've got to think that it was, in part, because we just stayed out of the way and let him do his thing. However quirky.
And he had a blast. Their team rarely loses, but they lost all three tournament games this weekend. But Zach came off the field saying, "Wow, they are elite teams and we're just a rec team. I bet they think we're an elite team too, because we're really good."
That's the smile we're looking for.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
No bounty hunter here
Today was our official kick-off for fall sports. Luke had a baseball game, and Zach had two soccer games. Tomorrow, each has one game.
Over the years, I've listened to them whine about practices or looked on as they gave the bare minimum at games, and I've realized that there's something I should take credit for passing on to my kids... The giving up gene. We get tired, we quit. We get hot, we quit. We get discouraged, we quit. We feel insecure, we quit. We just don't feel like it today, we quit.
But when a game is scheduled and a team is counting on us, quitting isn't an option.
So... Don't judge me for this, but I offered the boys a punch card incentive to give their all at games. If they run their fastest and try their hardest 80% of the season, they get a prize. If they run their fastest and try their hardest 100% of any given month, they get another prize.
We're not talking grand slams or game winning goals - just 100% of their heart, attention, and their best effort.
Luke is all over this. And negotiating a "medium Lego set". I'm pretty sure that the prize will not be that big. After all, this is not NCAA bribery ... but, at some point today, on the dawn of a new sports season, rewarding positive behavior just seemed like a good idea.
After thinking about it for a few minutes, Zach said, "Well... Can I start it in two days?"
At first I thought he was trying to get out of playing hard tomorrow (he's exhausted) ... but instead of jumping to conclusions, I asked why he wanted to wait.
"Because... I don't want to be like a bounty hunter. Or your employee. Before you give me a prize for doing what is already expected, I want to prove that I can do it for nothing."
Be still my heart. What an amazing young man.
Over the years, I've listened to them whine about practices or looked on as they gave the bare minimum at games, and I've realized that there's something I should take credit for passing on to my kids... The giving up gene. We get tired, we quit. We get hot, we quit. We get discouraged, we quit. We feel insecure, we quit. We just don't feel like it today, we quit.
But when a game is scheduled and a team is counting on us, quitting isn't an option.
So... Don't judge me for this, but I offered the boys a punch card incentive to give their all at games. If they run their fastest and try their hardest 80% of the season, they get a prize. If they run their fastest and try their hardest 100% of any given month, they get another prize.
We're not talking grand slams or game winning goals - just 100% of their heart, attention, and their best effort.
Luke is all over this. And negotiating a "medium Lego set". I'm pretty sure that the prize will not be that big. After all, this is not NCAA bribery ... but, at some point today, on the dawn of a new sports season, rewarding positive behavior just seemed like a good idea.
After thinking about it for a few minutes, Zach said, "Well... Can I start it in two days?"
At first I thought he was trying to get out of playing hard tomorrow (he's exhausted) ... but instead of jumping to conclusions, I asked why he wanted to wait.
"Because... I don't want to be like a bounty hunter. Or your employee. Before you give me a prize for doing what is already expected, I want to prove that I can do it for nothing."
Be still my heart. What an amazing young man.
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