Stomach Payne

I’m working on my belly.

It’s bigger than i’m used to it being. I have to make a conscious choice when getting dressed whether to let it gently spill over the waist of my pants or to pull the waist up high enough to conceal it...

It’s a whole thing.

It’s not that i lack muscle. I’m still working out and building strength {at least enough to continually haul a continually growing Payne up the hill to the bus stop and home each school day}. The muscles are just hanging out underneath the layer of subcutaneous fat and loose skin that’s hanging out after bearing a few babies and gaining a few years.

It’s not that i’m unhealthy. The insurance companies charts say i’m “ok”... so that’s a relief. And i eat when i’m hungry {when i remember}, enjoy what i eat {when i tune in}, stop when i’m satisfied and hit the water consumption hard {i just pee all the time people... it’s ok}. My blood pressure is brag-worthy... but so is my humility so i’m balanced.

I’m just SO ready to do something about this body of mine... something totally out of the box... something my many years of study and work in the fitness and sport fields has lead me to {yet not prepared me for}...

I’m going to honor it.

I’m going to stop measuring it against outsiders
and comparing it against the younger person who carried it.

I’m going to truly believe my husband’s actual compliments
instead of worrying about strangers’ imagined impressions.

I’m going to refuse to continuously suck it in...
if my subconscious insecurities can chill out when i’m not paying attention.

I’m going to cease berating myself for enjoying a handful of coffee nut m&m’s that i “didn’t need”, as well as suggesting silently to my mirror that if i tried one of the current intense diets i could lose these inches.

Sure i’m nervous. What if i’m committing to something that i will fail at... Yet i’m even more motivated because my Maverick showed me what my dumb insecurity must look like to those close enough to catch it.

Let me recreate the scenario for you...

Maverick is 5 years old and coming up on the completion of Kindergarten. Since there’s not any snow presently falling, he sees no need to wear a shirt. This is often and awesomely complimented by a Buff {headband-type thing for those of you who aren’t campy} worn around his head or chin and a weapon of some sort. Consider the normal scene set. Now imagine watching him walk, and talk, and play, and talk, and eat, and talk, and draw, and talk, etc all while sucking in his belly so deeply he resembles a parenthesis. After noticing him do this consistently for a couple days, i finally got him to explain why he was sucking in so oddly {which was much harder than it should have been with the amount of talking which was happening throughout those days}.

“I’m embarrassed of my tummy.”

That’s what he said. He looked down at the floor and used a small {for Maverick} voice that communicated shame and claimed his tiny, round tummy wasn’t ok. While i knelt next to him and spoke words that i meant with my whole heart... I couldn’t help but notice the hypocrisy they rang with...

“Your tummy is just fine! I love how God has made you! That round tummy means that we are blessed with enough food to keep you growing! We should be so thankful for round tummies! This is what a healthy tummy looks like! It’s not supposed to go backwards like that!

Everyone is made differently and you are healthy, so don’t worry about what your tummy looks like, ok?”

It has to stop. I have to stop. I can’t give others that which i have not received myself.

And i have a sinking suspicion that the same accuser who is whispering the lie of body shame and insecurity into the ears of my bright and strong, growing boy is the same author of the accusations i am guilty of rehearsing against my own gift of a body.

So here i go... jumping timidly into a new day of embracing the body i have been given just a step deeper than i have before.
Making new habits of:
Choosing Truth from the Word over my flittering feelings
Rebutting the tired thoughts of harshness or lies
Calling out the strength and beauty i see even more brashly
Battling the lies from the billboards and filtered social pressures
Claiming the worth i believe i was assigned by the God i believe is infallible
Accepting the compliments of others even more deeply
Excusing myself from some of the competition the world will continue to chase
Admitting when i’m struggling to do this and

Inviting anyone who wants to come along...

Purging Payne

It's that time of year...

It starts with digging through all the too-small items bloating the dress up boxes to find the pirate hook and the other hulk hand {possibly for the same costume}...

It grows when a search through the board game shelf fails to yield the Monopoly Jr money card {which the cash machine will NOT work without}, but does uncover 7 varying "Go Fish" games... all partial...

It is furthered by the seasonal "hand-me-down" clothing swap where i sort through dozens of pairs of shoes to realize we don't actually have the needed 1/2 size in winter foot wear for two fourths of our children and we have 17 pairs of boots that fit the other half of them...

It spirals beyond containment when the little consumers would rather spend time looking at Amazon or catalogues making wish-lists than use that time to actually play with the toys they already own...

If the thought of four children's {even scaled way back} Christmas booty doesn't spring me into purging mode... then what will?!? [Definitely NOT Spring! That season is for open windows and long runs as you smell lilacs and hear birds!] But, since i somehow inherited my mom's hate of pointless storage clutter AND my father's fear of "needing it someday," motivation is not enough to really convince me to part with the excess.  So i'm digging deep and leaning hard into some strategies that i hope will help me feel less tied to the things that need to be gone.

Procrastination:
i AM presently writing a blog post that approximately 17 people will read and chuckle at instead of ACTUALLY cleaning out toy boxes, book shelves, and drawers... But at the same time, i hope that taking a minute to mentally process and enjoy the form of thought organization that most restores me will bring the benefit of a clearer thought process and less anxious tone to the sorting.

Visiting Ms. C:
My neighbor could be described as elderly. She has a gorgeous house, a failing memory and cancer {which she sometimes forgets to take her meds for}. She enjoys sitting on her porch, my children, and telling stories. A walker assists her slow and limited wanderings. Ms. C doesn't wish she had more stuff. Her memories that come as they will aren't found in boxes of treasures from the past. Her full cupboards, closets and drawers are ignored by her simple and still life. Few of her "things" better her days the way minimilism does. This is good to see now. There is no need to store up for a possible future when stuff is just more burdensome at the far side of a full life.

Counting the Hours:
Since i have graduated to a Stay-at-Home mom of grade schoolers, our house is empty more hours of the day than it is occupied. There is very little playing in the mornings as we prepare to catch the bus. We are home from the bus by 3:30. Our death grip on the belief that early bedtimes save lives means that the littles are in bed by 7 and the bigs by 8 on school nights. This leaves a maximum of 4.5 hours in which homework and chores and dance classes {and parties} and sports and AWANA and dinner and friends all must happen. At this rate, it would take an {estimated} 9.7 years for every toy, book, video game, craft supply, etc to be utilized by a minimum of 3/4 of the Payne kids... I’m certain that's mathematically accurate {made up}. Keeping this in mind makes it much easier to minimize and accentuate the best, most favorite toys and let the excess be removed.

Imaginary Bugs:
i was holding out on another board game shelf story... while searching fruitlessly for the lost 2.1 millimeter sized Monopoly Jr. money card {without which the game does not work} , i pulled out another game only to find it covered in stink bugs {tis the season}! i no longer want any of those games. This {traumatic} experience has inspired an idea in me though... what if i told myself that each bin of toys had centipedes in it? If there's nothing worth attempting to rescue from those spawns of satan in those bins, maybe i should just donate the whole shebang and move on. What if the toy box had spider eggs in it which are just about to hatch? How many of the toys it holds merit reaching my hand through the imaginary webs and chancing spider eggs? Only those toys should make the cut.

Could Someone Else Enjoy It?
Maybe it used to be one of the little Payne's favorites... Maybe we have sweet memories of when they were mini enough to wear it... Maybe we really thought they'd be interested in something yet in reality we never got into it... Maybe it is worth actual money {if i actually had bought it full-price at a store instead of inheriting or thrifting it}... But what if someone else could currently and effectively USE it? What if that name brand piece of clothing fulfilled a need in a sparse closet? What if another baby could enjoy drooling on it? What if another kitchen would actually use the gadget that my cupboard only stores? Could a school prize box benefit from the Happy Meal toys i totally despise? What if a story could be discovered by new eyes and ears instead of adding to the Tetris-like experience of putting books away? Opening myself up to the possibility that there is still use in the things i want to "cherish" in storage makes it much easier to release. After all, in the times we ended up "needing it later," we've seen stuff come back around.

They Don’t Need It:
The other day Maverick literally asked me “Mom, can you hand me one of those empty water bottles so I can play?” {yes... my van does look like you’re imagining from that statement} There are toys and books in the van within his reach, but what kept him entertained for the 17 minutes we were in transit {and the next hour we were home}? Trash. Trash kept him occupied. He imagined and innovated and created and played with literal garbage. May I  not fear robbing my children from some kind of experience because I lessen the amount of stuff. Only boring people are bored, and these growing Paynes are far from boring.

Watch Hoarders:
Is that really where i want to be? Invest an hour in that show and then get to clearing out ALL the stuff! When i hear the exact excuses i've been using to hold onto things come out of that show... it's time to clean house {literally}.

Alas my list has come to an end... now the rubber hits the road and we shall see if these strategies prove useful. Happy clearing, my lovely friends. Feel free to share your strategies and stories as you manage the many things we have all been blessed with.

Graduation Payne

It looks like the first day of school, but in reality it's graduation day at the house of Payne!!! See, I just unintentionally spent the last eleven years mothering preschoolers. So basically I earned my bachelor degree, took 3 years to get a masters degree, then earned my mommy doctorate in four years. {Does it take 4 years to get a doctorate? I don't know, because that fact has been completely irrelevant to me raising little humans...} And on this 16th day of the Month of August 2k17, I put all four miniature Paynes on school buses!

It's a whole new world for me! {pause reading to belt out "A whole new world" in dramatic Aladdin style} I have survived eleven years of infant, toddler and preschool constant connection and I'm feeling a bunch of feels...

I feel EXCITED!
Full-time parenting, like ALL worthwhile endeavors, is stinking hard! It is a constant balancing act and that tight rope is exhausting. The mental capacity to teach tiny beings human ways and then answer their never-ceasing barrage of questions is intense. The physical stamina to keep up with them is demanding. The emotional intentionality of disciplining and guiding and loving and growing and limiting and all the things is depleting. The search for babysitters who don't grow up and increase their own responsibility of their busy lives who are cool with getting paid in pizza and good conversation is a nightmare. So I'm thrilled to have HOURS during the days when I'm kid-free!!! Besides, i recognize the specific breathing pattern one of the littles uses when he poops, so it's safe to say we could use a bit of space.

I feel SAD...
I like my kids. They're so weird and cool. They make me laugh daily and their hugs warm my heart. I like observing them being who God made them and dreaming about who He is making them... Their imagination spurs my mind. Their playing motivates me to enjoy life. Their singing makes me bold. Their dance moves slay. Watching them figure things out and grow in understanding is amazing, and I'm passing them onto others for HOURS during the days. It may be a touch of Stockholm syndrome as I mourn being tortured for hours everyday with questions about smells {what their source is, how it works, the molecules involved, the person doing said stinking and/or smelling...}, but my heart is sad at their absence.

I feel WORRIED.
This is my 3rd round of "first day of kindergarten" milestones, and yet the first time I was tempted to send in a "good luck" gift to kindergarten teachers. One is not going to stop talking. Also, he's not paying attention to you... not even a little. He doesn't mean to be ignoring you, his ears are just somehow connected to his imagination {which is always running}. Also the littlest one understands how to work you and the system you serve. Watch your back or you'll be grunting more and he'll be talking less at the end of this nine weeks... Also, the first baby to ever grow {huge} inside of me got on a school bus at the butt crack of dawn with HiGhScHoOLeRs!!! I imagine these monsters have been spending the entirety of their summer scheming how they can devestate the innocence of sixth graders in 23 minute increments! It'll be a miracle if she escapes the first day without a contact buzz! And the sensitive Payne got a teacher who may be a yeller... The whole public school thing reminds me in many ways that "my control" is a mirage and calls me to a deeper trust of the All Powerful One.

I feel GRATEFUL!
It's obvious I didn't successfully double the amount of Payne children twice over (1 to 2, 2 to 4) and then nurture them to school age by myself! So Jimmy Fallon style thank you's happening here... Thank you Baby-Daddy, for working hard at your job so I could stay home and complain about staying home. You brought sexy back to fathering. Thank you babysitters, for allowing me to ask you the most and pay you the least for sitting on my babies. You saved my sanity. Thank you Church, for showing up for the long haul. You showered our family with baby gear and diapers and hand-me-downs and meals. You held us and taught us and loved us. We are deeply thrilled to be a part of the family of Christ. Thank you Moms, for being my teammates. Your advice and examples and comradery showed me the way. Thank You Jesus, for giving me these years of forced selflessness to spend on four of Your awesome little ones. You alone know the depths of my pride and selfishness that need rooted out, and the way You chose to use parenting to continue that work blesses my heart. Thank you early bedtimes, for saving the lives of the Payne children. I look forward to continuing our close relationship.

My "future" plans are not yet clear as I presently can't see past the excitement of possibly getting some housework done without little ones undoing it simultaneously... but today I celebrate with a run, some coffee, the river, and writing. And look forward to hearing how Jesus showed Himself with them at school today.

Running Away

Dear Mom,

I'm running away.

You probably feel shocked and confused at this news {mostly because I haven't lived at home for 18 years}, but you need to know WHY my sleeping bag and knapsack are missing. Hence this note. And while the timing of this note's arrival may be out of the ordinary, the reasons are standard:

I want my own room.
There's no space here! No where that my physical and emotional clutter aren't looming. Sure, my housemates are adorable and my roommate is a stud, but turns out I'm no good at sharing. My selfishness apparently has no bounds... my time, my body, my schedule, my bathroom, my energy, my money {jk I don't have any money}, my space, my sleep, my thoughts, my food, my words, my bed... I'm so weary of sharing and I wasn't even aware that I had been attempting it in my own strength. And sometimes marriage is just weird. We have a really great marriage. We love each other deeply and enjoy each other usually. But some seasons are just awkward and I don't even know why or how to proceed.

The rules are too burdensome.
Stay in bed until the light turns green. Don't feed the dog from the table. You can jump off, but not on, the couch. No screaming! Toothbrushes aren't to be suctioned to the toilet. No questions during nap times or when mom is having a meltdown. Ask before leaving the house (especially if you're nonverbal and stealthy). Don't use your brother's frustration to make yourself feel powerful. A shower only counts if your hair is wet at the end of it. Poop goes in the potty. Do not touch the coffee nut M&M's. Don't pull the dog's tail! Keep your hands to yourself during meals. "Asked and answered" means you're not allowed to keep asking. A mumbled apology is unacceptable. You don't have to enjoy a chore to do it well. Come when I call (do not yell "what" from behind a closed door across the house). Yackety yak don't talk back... on and on it goes and literally none of these can be enforced whilst sitting on the couch!!! There's really only two rules: "Love God, and love others" with a healthy dose of "honor your parents" sprinkled in the mix. But practically guiding four little lives at various stages every day has me waving the white flag...

It's not fair.
There is no cotton candy here. Ferris wheels abide somewhere else. Here i can work hard all day and no one can spot a difference. I can lead my best, but they really are miniature humans with their own choices to be made. I can over think and clearly communicate and still be misunderstood. Here I can 100% desire to understand what our littlest one is trying to communicate and it still is just an angry sounding grunt at varying decibel levels that I cannot translate. Here I'm not allowed to scream at them regardless of how much they are screaming {and how natural it comes out}. I have to ask for forgiveness even though I still feel really really really justified in my sin. Also I have to forgive when being wronged is the closest thing I feel to power... It's just not fair.

No one cares about me.
I recognize that this is a straight up lie, but my emotions continue to disregard that memo. My mind can see that there are five extremely caring people surrounding me day in and day out. But my feelings love to interpret the scenario as they only care that i can meet their needs. For if it wasn't for me, who would load the dishwasher or microwave their supper or wipe the butts or launder their clothes or buy the groceries from the store? It's not so much that no body likes me or that everybody hates me... there's no call for worm eating... it's just that maybe that's how I'm seeing myself and blaming those closest to me for my misperceptions...

But running away is easier than figuring that out...

Yet I find strength... even if it's simply strength to stay. Even if there's only strength for this moment. Even if it's simply the realization that God has made some really awesome tiny humans and my job is to just not screw them up. And caving to my deepest selfish desire to do solely what I want through running away would definitely screw them up... so I stay.

And I look around at all the other brave warriors who are also choosing to stay in their battle. And I cry. And I apologize. And I confess my unforgiveness. And I acknowledge the prick of Holy Spirit hope that whispers "struggling here is winning"...

Baptizing Paynes

The church picnic at the river means baptisms. This year a Payne had responded to the call and decided to publicly state that he wants to follow Jesus with his whole life. The day is gorgeous...

As a mom, I wrestle with knowing if he really understands. Does he grasp the idea of giving his young life away to the One who can save him from his own destructive desires? Does he realize he's acknowledging the right of God to put His lovingly firm finger on any place in his heart at any time? Does he see that he can trust this God fully, because He is a good, faithful and true God? As a child, the peace of Jesus guards my mind with the reminder that I don't have to know. I can simply watch and see what God is doing in his life.

Then we have a Sunday morning...

I prepared the night previous. We had adequate time. They were ready and relaxing. Until the one who desires deeply to have the power to control others once again tried it out on the one who just refuses to be controlled. I warned. I followed through. I repeated. I clarified. I redirected... then I. Lost. It. Regardless of my initial best attempts, I was screaming at the literal top of my lungs in pure anger. Fuming over the fact that the one who was preparing to stand up and declare his life in Christ was intent on feeling power from controlling his brother into frustration and was willing to disobey me to my face in order to do so, I broke.

My scream hurt more than my throat and the neighborhood's tranquility....

With all Paynes in time out {including myself}I poured it all out to the God {whose idea it was for me to have this many kids anyway}... 

"i'm so furious." I know.

"i tried!!! i did all that i knew to do!" I saw. 

"We're not going to the picnic! He's not getting baptized! I am the One who makes that call. 

"He clearly doesn't want to follow You! He can't even follow simple directions that will avoid getting him in trouble with me!!!" I see you struggle too. 

"i'm so sorry for yelling! i hate that i yelled. i hate that i let my anger control me!" I forgive you. 

"But i'm still mad!"  I am not.

"What if i can't teach him to follow You the right way? i can't do it." I can. You can trust Me. 

"i do."

My feelings weren't caught up to the Truth that Jesus spoke to my heart. I still felt angry at him and {even more so} myself, and I knew the onslaught of sweet intentioned "how are you?"s that awaited our church arrival... but I went forward. And I attempted to answer honestly without drama or gossip to all the friendly inquiries. Then we praised and my words matched the Truth and somehow the Holy Spirit aligned my heart as well. 

For truly all who stand in the water of baptism, stand as sinners who have been cleansed! And the amazing thing is NOT how long we can go before needing forgiveness again, but in the generous God who does not grow weary of cleansing us over and over and over and over... again. Screaming at the little Payne who was making a public statement about his faith today reminded me so very tangibly that baptism doesn't make us good people... it declares the goodness of our God to love and accept us even though we fall so short. And that is more than enough. 

So I close my eyes and remember my dad baptizing me when I only knew that Jesus loves and saves me and I wanted to tell others. And I thank Him deeply that my son will now also have that to remember.

"So you also should consider yourselves to be dead to the power of sin and alive to God through Christ Jesus." Romans 6:11

Dear Sarah...

Just a quick note...

Because that's all you have time for as you stay home alone with your two young boys as your husband travels again...

You are doing a good job at being your sons' mama. I don't say this generically. I mean it. You are showing up. You are loving beyond your capacity to give of yourself. You are trying and giving it all you have... And trusting that Jesus will provide the rest that is needed to raise small humans into big humans. 

In this task that's far beyond us you will sometimes need to reevaluate and try again... but you will ALWAYS need to trust more! 

Believe that God has and is creating you to be the mother He chose for your sons. 

Choose faith that God is shaping your sons over the fear that you're ruining them. 

Believe that you are NOT alone and that He will provide the strength you need to get out of bed, off the couch, to play and discipline, to explain and correct, to hug and wrestle, to enforce the boundaries and apologize when you mess up... the exact amount of His never-ending strength in each moment. 

Trust that His strength really is enough for your weakness... Perfect in it, even. 

Claim what He says about you and your sons over what your feelings are screaming... This means doing whatever it takes to hear from His Word and to listen for His voice EVERYDAY... No matter what you need to sacrifice {sleep, down time, TV, Facebook, this blog post, a phone call...} it will be worth it. (And you'll regularly see Him give you back what you lay down at His feet that is beneficial for you in this time...)

It's supposed to feel like this!!! You cannot make him obey... You can only consistently provide the consequence for the choice he makes. Remember that you do not discipline in order to change a behavior {although all mamas really, really, really, really hope it eventually has that effect), you are disciplining in order to teach them in a loving, safe environment that there are consequences to every choice... Keep doing this because the world they are growing up to enter is not loving or safe. 

This requires laying down your pride. Your children's behavior does not determine your success as a mom. Your obedience to what the Holy Spirit leads you to do determines your "success"... If that can even be measured. {And your VALUE has been determined by the price the God of this creation paid to save you!} Give the praise to the Lord when they behave and request the Holy Spirit's continued intervention when they don't. 

He has started this good work {of mothering} in you and He will carry it out to completion until the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. 

Find your rest and strength and consistency in Him. Keep being honest about your struggles and victories. Enjoy the good moments, cry in the bad, apologize after the wrong and soldier on. 

God is growing and shaping you and your boys... And you get a front row seat to that miracle. 

In this alongside of you...

Things I Learned from Missing the Birth of my Son

1) This world is strange. 

There are all sorts of feelings and depths that are way more comparable to the writings of Dr. Seuss than the text books I've studied. 

2) Happy happenings and sad happenings are often the same happenings. 

We were in the distance waiting, hoping, praying, fighting off discouragement... While she was right there fearful, dreading, praying, fighting off anxiety... We didn't know her or even about her. She didn't know us or about us. She looked at the tiny miracle baby and lovingly mustered the strength to give him the life and family and home that she wanted for him... Even if that meant mourning the fact that it wasn't with her. Heart breaking in love. We received "the call" that we were chosen to be his parents. Hearts rejoicing in love. 

3) Nurses are amazing... so, so, so amazing.

They ran every test. Distributed every medication. Followed through with every treatment. Changed every diaper. Monitored every stat. Answered every alarm. Fed him every meal. Gave him every hug. Offered every stimulus... They cared for him deeply and wonderfully in the time between families. And four years later I'm still moved to tears considering all they did for him...

4) Moving forward when you are terrified is true bravery. 

I saw this in a birth mom who could've chosen differently for many reasons at many different points... But she didn't. She went through a birth only 24 weeks into a pregnancy she only recently had found out about to a teeny baby who they said {in a language she didn't speak} wasn't "healthy"... With no one supporting her, she reached out for the support of those who offered adoption... And I am forever indebted to her bravery for walking that path. 

I saw this in our adoption journey. We did not know how to adopt. Nor did we know what raising a child with special needs was going to be like. We were afraid of the costs involved and the energy and patience we lacked. We were afraid to continue to hope when time after time we were "not selected" as the family. But we walked on anyways... And I'm continually grateful for the Holy Spirit who makes us brave. 

5) The odds being stacked against a person doesn't eliminate a different outcome. 

Boys who are premature have a lower survival rate than girls. Babies born at 24 weeks gestation weeks undeveloped lungs and hearts that have holes in them. Down syndrome increases the likelihood of having heart issues that require surgery and lifelong cardiac care. Babies who are tube fed have a high risk of struggling with oral feeding. Preemies as well as babies who have Down syndrome typically have a low suck reflex making nursing problematic.

Yet... The hole in Theo's heart closed up as his body grew and survived. This allowed us to be chosen as his family (as our location was too far from pediatric cardiac care to qualify for anyone with heart issues). He passed his swallow study and latched the first time he attempted nursing (as I had given birth to his brother 1 month previous to Theo becoming "ours"). Theo didn't know all the things he "should've" been or not done... He just soldiered on from one miracle to the next. 

6) The value of a life is not determined by popular consensus. 

He was completely dependent on machines and professionals to keep him alive for the first 3 months of his life. He has an extra chromosome that will make many things that come "naturally" for the majority of the population be a struggle for him. He has a team of doctors and therapists who he regularly sees. He needs extra help and time to do what most four year olds do. And yet... What would this world be like without him?

7) God has got my children. 

We weren't there with Theodore when he weighed 1 pound 12 ounces. We didn't speak soothingly to him during the many invasive blood draws, ROP exams, EKG's, O2 sat monitorings, swallow studies... We didn't pray for his lungs to grow strong enough that he might be released from the ventilator. We didn't swaddle him to sleep. Kangaroo care didn't come from his parents. We didn't make his first (or second) scrapbook pages {have I mentioned how amazing nurses are?}... Our time as his parents began when he was 4 months old and 10 pounds heavy (he looked enormous next to those other preemies in good Payne-baby fashion). Sure we (& many others) had prayed. But while we didn't even know who to pray what for, God was in control. While I am beyond thankful that the Creator of this world chooses to use my mothering to grow some little lives, how clear it became that I'm simply "going to work with Dad" on this whole parenting gig. He blesses me with responsibility and graciously gives the strength to meet it as well as the forgiveness when I don't... But by missing my son's birth, it made it ever so clear to me that I must not mistake the roles. God showed Himself enough for my premature baby who didn't have a family for his first months... and He continues to want to show us the same thing now. 

Happy fourth birthday!!!

Growing Payne-Full Oaks

Tonight we cried together over oak trees and acorns...

Tears blurring my eyes as I read Max Lucado's lines about the yearning for the {now} great oak to be able to tell the young girl that there is a great woman in her, and she just needs to be the kind of person God made her to be...

I knew it was coming. The sweet acorn who feared letting go of his mom's branches... The way the straining of the small oak to produce oranges and flowers was depressingly futile... The introduction of the little girl character... I saw its approach... But I had already gone too far. I even had a decent oak tree voice going on...

I held it together when the image of the small oak judging himself as less because of his inability to grow fruit struck really close to my inner monologue of comparing myself to the homeschool or working or all-natural or volunteering mothers surrounding me. A mental note was made to let the picture of the oak tree straining to grow flowers in order to be beautiful lacking impact on a single fiber of his being sink in to the way I talk to the mirror... But tears did not fall. I faked it through the description of how quickly the girl grew and changed...

But the longing to speak broke through. 

The {now} big oak tree had learned the complex truth from the simple saying his mother oak consistently repeated "You have a mighty oak inside you. Just be the tree God made you to be." He wanted to speak this truth over the scared young women getting ready to set off on her own for the first time... But trees can't speak to girls... At least not in this fictional story...

That longing was just too much as I sat with two of my {now} small oaks on either side of me. It wasn't the wording or the illustration (masterful, though they were); it was the fact that I fear being unable to speak that simple deep truth that I can clearly see in these Paynes growing under me... 

Even as I struggle to consistently grasp it for my own self. 

I'm overwhelmed with the desire for what ground I've found in freedom to be grasped by these {now} young lives so they can wander even farther into the depths of Jesus. I see so vividly the great oaks their little acorn bodies contain. I hear in a still, strong voice repeating that it is God, and not me, who is their Farmer... And I can speak. 

And cry. 

Because the way they rubbed my back when my voice cracked was so tender. And my big boy had tears so instantly when he saw one trickle out of my eye he must've had them on the ready. I heard my own awkward chuckle come from the daughter who didn't know how to respond to two thirds of us crying over the bedtime story...

So we all snuggled and cried and laughed... Because this journey is hard and fast but full of randomly awe-inspiring moments... 

It's the Little Things...

Parenthood brings about many causes for celebration. We rejoice at wonderful new milestones that our children reach. Having a child with the superpower of Down syndrome has shown us even more clearly the progression toward these accomplishments and the fun in acknowledging these breakthroughs. Yet, not all breakthroughs are even. There are a handful of regularly celebrated and noted milestones, that aren't 100% wins for the parents... 

Baby rolled over! Note to self: stop leaving baby on sofa. 

Baby pulls self up to standing! Realize how many sharp and flammable and heavy and fragile items are left near the edge of tables. 

Baby's first word! Good bye sane-permitting silence. 

Baby's first taste of food! Hello spoon feeding chore. 

Baby's first step! No longer know where baby is ever...

The list continues. I'm not saying we shouldn't celebrate these cool new necessary-for-survival skills. I'd just like to point out that there are some awesome milestones that parents truly rejoice over, yet never seem to have their spot in the baby books (not that any third or later born child even has a baby book...)

Here are some noteworthy (possibly ice cream worthy) milestones I believe should get some acknowledgement:

Pushing Limbs Through Sleeves

Humans are born without this ability. Some babies, more so than others. Parents of a somewhat floppy infant are going to dance a jig when that little one first uses some muscle tone to actually push their arm through their sleeve! The days of reverse toothpaste tube fishing for a wrist stuck up behind a bent elbow in a sleeve made for a tiny person are nearing an end!

Spoon Feeding Self 

The day when you can set a plate of food and the proper eating utensils before your offspring and they consume more of the food than is dropped or thrown should be celebrated! Sure, the home video won't be that thrilling... But recognized it should be, nonetheless. 

Buckling Self Into and Out of Seat

This is next level stuff here. Life with a self buckler can't even be imagined by the parent lugging around an infant carrier. (Side note: get a sling or wrap or back pack and leave that stinking heavy carrier in the car... Those seats are killer on your poor back!) But this day does come! A day when the human child opens a car door, moves themselves into their seat and clips their OWN buckles!!! No more games of Twister while all the weather hits your rear end that's sticking out of the back of your vehicle!!! Rejoice!

Socks and Shoes Selfie

Maybe having multiple sets of baby feet (one set requiring braces) at a time has made me more sensitive to the chore of actually getting all the offspring out the door. Even so, the day when a parent can simply announce "It's time to go. Put on your shoes." is a good day! I know from parenting grade schoolers this doesn't mean getting out the door (especially for school in the mornings) is without drama... It just means less steps for the parent. We'll worry about getting them on the right feet later... Today we celebrate!

Retrieving Skills

I vote that there should be a place in all baby memory books where we proud parents can record "On this day___ in the year ___ my child retrieved something I needed but couldn't reach. (Age:__)" The first time the older toddler can go get you wipes when the new baby's diaper has exploded and you didn't know the container was empty until you started the clean up process is magical! Stuck in the bathroom without toilet paper? Send the child for it! They most likely already followed you in there, anyways! Let's put this awesome skill to use!

Ability To Get Fingers Into Glove Slots

This is like the sleeve thing revisited. Only with gloves, you're already exhausted from putting the rest of the snow gear on them and these tiny digits have NO clue where they are supposed to go! Reaching this milestone should be marked with something beyond the expected hot cocoa!

Safely Swallowing a Pill

Your budget will rejoice when a single ibuprofen pill replaces two syringes full or 3 quick dissolve tablets of expensive children's medicine. The stickiness level of medicine distribution decreases dramatically! No more crushing, hiding, mixing nasty tasting medicine! A whole new world of vitamins opens up! Woo hoo!

Pumping Legs on Swing

You've arrived at the "go outside and play" stage!!! Without the ability to actually make the swings go, outside play time had to be a parent lead activity. When they figure out pumping their legs... That's a fun freedom! (*Disclaimer: I'm not advocating for unsupervised playground play! But more loosely supervised as they grow.)

Wiping Well

Yay for potty training! Yay for the day when the Elmo potty goes away for good (no more dumping!!!)! But come on now!!! The day when you no longer hear "Mom! I pooped!" yelled from behind closed bathroom doors is a milestone if ever there was! 

Solo Playtime 

I'm a firm believer in the importance of the statement "go play." As a parent, I reject the title of "entertainer." I strive to be present, engaged, playful and active with my kids without turning them into dictators of my every moment. There's this whole world that I can only be in one tiny spot of... So let's notice and celebrate and encourage those first interests, explorations, and dare we say, alone-play moments!!!

Nose Blowing Skills

Two words: bulb syringe. My infant's snot constantly dripping down his face might not bother him, but it is a major problem to me! I'll use that sucker on them until they can properly expel the snot out of their sinus cavities without wiping it up into their hairline. Seriously! A good, clean, tissue caught nose blow is a big deal! Let's go ahead and post videos on Facebook celebrating our young kids blowing their noses like Hulk would!! (Superheroes seem to work for us...)

Reading a Clock

Does your child know their numbers? If so, they may be ready for their own digital clock in their bedroom! May I suggest making a sign that shows what 7:00 looks like on the clock (or just 7 and cover up the minutes with the sign) and make this wake up time! It's not a guaranteed win out of the gates, but when the littles stay quiet and contained until a acceptable wake up time it's totally worth the effort!!! 

It's ok to celebrate the ordinary! It's ok to usher out phases with cheers and tears. It's important to recognize the amazement of growth that is life! It's a strange dichotomy of emotions. We don't have to wish it away nor wish it to stay forever... but let's strive to treasure up these things in our hearts that we may grow rich in parenting. 

What are some other phases that parents should celebrate that aren't always noted?

Things Three Year Olds Don't Grasp About Christmas

Uninflated Inflateables

"They broken? How they popped? You fix them? How they no working? How they lay down? Aww... They dead? Why they there?..."

A Non-White Christmas Time

"It's Christmas time?!? It's snowy outside?!? Where's the snow? So, it not Christmas time yet?"

Why the Entire 16 oz Bag of Chocolate Bells Can't All Be Eaten In One Sitting

"...But Grandma George gave me this present! This for me. Her say I can eat them! They mine! All them mine!!!"

The Cost of Batteries 

"Mom, you fix this? How this broken? You put new batteries in this? You fix ALL the [million trinkets that are supposed to blink or flash or sing] things?!"

Santa Claus

{Someone innocently asks him if Santa is going to visit his house:} "Santa coming today at dark nap?!? Why he not come now? It not Christmas time yet? It not snowy outside? It IS Christmas!!! Santa coming NOW?!!"

Pumpkins That Haven't Been Taken Down Yet

"Mom, how those pumpkins there? Her not have Christmas? It's not snowy yet? That a scary pumpkin? That a Christmas pumpkin?"

How to Eat a Candy Cane Like a Human

*Receives candy cane from parent: wrapper is open with an acceptable amount of candy revealed, allowing the rest of the wrapper to suffice as a handle preventing the spread of stickiness.

*Takes a few licks.

*Tries peeling the wrapper back.

*Wanders away from parent to not be caught peeling the remaining wrapper off. 

*Leaves pieces of sticky wrapper on carpet while licking EnTiRe length of the candy cane {which is only possible if switching hands with candy cane to access part where hand just was}.

*Touches everything possible. 

*Accidently ingests a fuzz ball that was transferred from sticky palm to sticky cane. 

*Sets disgusting, hairy candy cane down {most likely on dad's favorite seat on the couch} to work on retrieving the fuzz ball. 

*Parent responds to the sounds of attempted hair ball removal. 

*Unanswerable questions asked regarding the state of the candy cane while fuzz ball fishing occurs. 

*3-year old breaks candy cane while trying to uncement it from its resting place. 

*Melt down commences over broken candy cane...

*Approximately 27 minutes of power play, time outs, tears, scrubbing, lecturing, lost tempers, and candy cane disposal {after approximately 2.5 minutes of candy cane enjoyment}

Secret-Keeping Skills

Toddler: "Daddy! We got surprise astronauts for you!!!" 

Dad: "What?"

Mom: "Buddy, that's a surprise for daddy. Don't tell him about it!"

Toddler: whispering into dad's ear with his hot little breath {while eyeing mom from the corner of his eye} "Daddy... We got surprise astronauts for you..."

Other People Opening Presents

"But where my presents at??? How it not Christmas time for me too? It not snowy? It's IS Christmas time for me! Those my presents!!! How he opening presents? NO!!! I want it to be PRESENT TIME FOR ME!!!!...{public meltdown ensues ensuring all strangers assume this brat comes from a materialistic family} 

The Astonishing Nativity

"Look at that tiny barn! That Jesus barn? How Jesus that baby? No! Babies don't sleep in barns! How there angels? They say {deep voice attempt} "Don't be 'fraid"! Jesus is God. God is the boss? He a good boss."

Random Things That Stress Me Out

People Running in Denim

Is someone chasing them? They seem to be at a relaxed jogging pace, but they're wearing jeans... Even when the person is clearly participating in the same 5k as me, but she's in denim shorts, my heart races faster. Chaffing much?

The Pressure of Picking the Exact Correct Size Tupperware for Leftovers 

I can't handle a big ol' plastic container with an insufficient amount of food to fill it. Enough so that I'll actually risk the smaller size with the possibility of realizing it's a scoop too small. This, of course, is way worse as now you're talking an extra dirty dish and another gamble in the Tupperware drawer... Aye aye aye...

Kids Not Sleeping

It doesn't just apply to my own minions. I worry about the melt downs strangers are going to have the next day if they're still shopping at Walmart two hours after I put mine to bed. The possible tantrums and lack of self control that I won't even be around to witness make my stomach tight. I just want these strange kids to succeed at life through appropriate bedtimes!!!

The Mixing of Athletic Pants with Dress Shirts

Could you not decide? If you want to play a sport, you will clearly ruin that shirt with sweat. If you want to lounge around, you will clearly be hindered from comfort by the collars and buttons. And what is the appropriate type of shoe to wear with an outfit like that?

Public Speakers Who Say "Just a Few More Things" as They Near Their Ending Time

How many is a "few"? Is each point going to take as long as the first few you just spent your lecture time making? Even if they're good points and I'm am without a pressing appointment I start to doubt my ears abilities. 

Loafers Without Socks

I've worn loafers. How is this a thing? You're definitely getting blisters in those stiff, stuffy dress shoes. Your feet must be swimming in sweat to the point that they're sliding around inside there... Gag!!!

Messes in Movies

Someone is going to have to clean that up! I'm glad Kevin bested the robbers, but it's possible he did more property damage than the family who left him alone would've lost to the theft. The only good part of the movie Jumanji is the moment when they finish the game and everything goes back to normal magically...

Guys in Their 20's Who Grow Mustaches 

I automatically assume you grew it as a joke. Then the gracious Holy Spirit reminds me that there are all sorts of opinions other than my own. But I don't know how to proceed (and assume you don't either). I panic. I just wish I knew if you were as serious about your facial hair decisions as men in their thirties...

Live Orchestra Performances

I've played in my share of symphonic winds concerts. I appreciate classical type music in certain settings. I recognize the skill and discipline and grace these symphonies require... I just wish someone was singing or dancing or acting something out to the beautiful music. More sophisticated people will (and should) totally disagree with me on this. But it's not even a boredom thing... I'm just anxious because I don't know how long all these songs in the program are, or even what song we're currently enjoying... and I'm severely doubting my sitting still skills are enough to last this (that ability is sadly underdeveloped in my person)!!!

Not Knowing Where the Facilities Are

I don't need to know exactly where the bathroom is. I possess a grown up amount of bladder control. But if I'm out somewhere and need to find a bathroom... I'm in trouble. If I know where it is and how to get there, I'll make it. If there is an ounce of doubt... Let's just say if I don't know where I'm going, I'll just go where I am...

Figuring Out How To End Blogs

...

Things moms can get away with...

Asking other humans about the specifics of their bowel and bladder happenings...

"Do you have to poop? Or just pee?"

"Did you wipe?"

"Who farted?"

"Do you have to go bad enough to pee on the side of this road?"

"Who didn't flush?!?"

"Have you tried pooping? It might cure your current ailment."

Singing in public...

If you're happy and you know it clap your hands! Even if you're grocery shopping, you don't care. Your voice is out of tune, you're in the walmart restroom... If you're happy and you know it sing out loud!

Smelling weird things on purpose...

Butts, shoes, milk, armpits, dirty clothes, lunch meat (multiple times), mystery spills, breath, car seats, anonymous brown substances, wounds, cloth diapers out of the dryer...

Making up universal laws on the spot...

... "That's why toothbrushes do not belong near rear ends."

... "That's why toenails should never be allowed to grow that long."

... "That's why you don't throw pepper!"

... "That's why you shouldn't lick the table."

... "That's why pogo sticks aren't allowed up there."

Squirreling away mobile food stores...

At any given place or time I could feed 4 children for a day. 3 days if I have access to my van. For a day and a half the menu would even be surprisingly balanced. Granola bars, fruit strips, breakfast bars, peanut butter crackers, jerky, dried cranberries, skittles, fruit snacks, cereal... Add to that the sandwiches, apples, and frozen yogurt tubes I threw into my purse for that day's lunch... And remember the sippy cups galore (some in the early stages of cheese making...) and that's an unacceptable amount of food to have on a person!!!

Complaining about staying home...

It is way more challenging than we imagined when still in the public work force. The lack of deadlines to motivate procrastinators. The void of acknowledgement to itch egos. Gone are the time clocks where "off duty" is an option. How easy it is to spiral into focusing on the emotional toll bringing up tiny humans demands. But there is more than these... There is NO dress code! No meetings to plan meetings. No corporate run around. No public, too small refrigerators. No office drama... And deeper still... There are those lives. The ones still fully controlled by their limited understanding and unlimited selfishness. There is love discovered and sacrificed deeply for. There are the moments we see that we will cherish in our hearts onward and upward. An environment that wears away our selfishness and self-dependence... where a more true self and home and work can be discovered... Where my weakness leads me to call out for a strength from a God who is concerned with my monotonous daily grind. In our expression of the hardships may we not stop short of recognizing the joy and privilege the momentary title of "stay-at-home" awards us. 

9... Going on 18

We're halfway there. You entered this world nine years ago, and nine years from now you'll be entering college or a licensing program or the work force or mission field... If the Lord wills, of course. 

i can't help but feel a pressure. This age. Your listening ears. That giant heart... You have an incredible thought process that hasn't yet ruled me out as a fool. You want to learn and [if just for this moment] you listen to me. But how can i tell you all the important things? How can I saturate your mind full enough of Truth and wisdom to survive a possible mother-daughter teenage relational drought?

What is it right now that your formative self most needs to hear and learn and know... ?

You were created. 

There is a God, who in His perfection, dreamed you up and made you come true. And He is still creating you. It is He alone who defines beauty. Refuse to compare all the different flowers in His bouquet... for it is their differences that compound the beauty. Hear from your Creator daily in order to be brave enough to open your mind to His idea of beautiful. 

Your value differs from your purpose. 

You are valuable because you're one of God's dreams come true. That is already established. Embracing that God-given value will empower you to work hard at your purpose. Knowing God and making Him known. This means hard work, serving others, dying to your own wants and feelings in exchange for those of Jesus. Don't get this confused. You don't need to serve or work or "succeed" in order to have value, you can serve and work and succeed because you are valuable. Know this even without the trophies for showing up...

You will be wrong. 

You will be so incredibly totally convinced you're right, but you will realize you were completely wrong. You will try something you expect to be gifted at and bomb. Failure happens. It's vital and not to be feared. Try again. Apologize to those you argued with. This is how you learn. This is where toxic pride can be stripped away. It doesn't feel good, but with the Right One walking with you, you will survive and thrive through it. 

... i'm getting too long winded...

Don't watch much TV. 

Play outside in all the weather. 

Get to know your neighbors. 

Smile at those you pass. 

Battle to save your kiss... It's worth it. 

Stand for what is right. 

Speak up for those who hurt. 

Chew slowly so you can taste your food longer. 

Life isn't about you. 

Avoid bikinis. 

Listen as much as you talk... with God and with people.

Give praise generously (Don't be a "story topper").

Feelings lie. Follow the Holy Spirit instead of your heart. 

Avoid caffeine dependence for as long as possible. 

Be (lovingly) honest even when it hurts. 

Don't aim for that which is easy.

Accept the consequences. 

Dont over-apologize...

Forgive freely. 

Love sacrifically. 

Don't trip near a boy who doesn't truly love Jesus... that fall will hurt...

Be you. Walk close with Jesus. Shine. 

Your life will be intense, painfull, thrilling and impactful. 

i'm incredibly excited to walk through the rest of it with you!

Broken

Sometimes you cry because so many people you love and so many you don't even know are hurting. 

And sometimes you lie on your living floor wetting a letter the dad wrote from prison with your tears, while four of his babies sleep in your house... On Father's Day.

The heart break is sometimes too big for tears when you think about the damage done in making orphans and the pain of loving them. 

And sometimes you have too many sisters with too many heartaches to know how to do anything more than keep showing up.

Sometimes you regret buying tissues from Aldi's because they can't handle adult tears.

And sometimes the parking lot to Panera Bread is just the right spot to sit in your van and cry before going in to buy your bagel. 

And sometimes you just don't want to wear the adorable pumpkin suit...

And sometimes your mind just spins at how you could possibly make a difference when every house on every street of this enormous city is full of hurt... And there's just so. many. cities on this globe...

And sometimes you fight with strength not your own to cling to words that aren't your voice saying "keep opening your door... keep sharing your food... Keep saying "hello" when you pass... Keep hugging... Keep inviting... Keep destroying your normal... Keep praying... Refuse to stop hoping."

... And keep crying... Because sometime is coming when your Savior will take enough time with His hand on your cheek to brush away each tear that has fallen here...

Dear Mother Martyr

Dear Kim...

Commit not to be deceived here. There are martyrs in this world, but for today, you are not one of them. You, my lovely self, are a mother... And there is a big difference. 

You are surrounded by life. The messes, the noise, the fullness, the constant. These are just what young life feels like. 

It is hard. It always has been. It is a job. Work hard. 

It is fun. There can be laughter. Memories are forged here. Play on purpose... Especially when you lack the energy to do so.

This is your stage... You have a small, select audience. Show up. Speak life.

This is your calling... Don't compare. God never ceases being good in His sovereignty. He wants you here.

This is a home... Not a jail. Stop coveting the freedom of "leaving". Your husband is going to work... It is not as glorious as you are imagining. This is simply a passing season.

This is the day the Lord has made. It is not the same as yesterday. Choose expectation. He will not disappoint. 

You are not alone... Those feelings are strong, but not true. You work beside a world of other life-givers. Cherish the moments your paths walk together. 

You are not failing... It's a fast from the god of accomplishment you've sacrificed to for far too much of your life. You just need to believe real, true world-changing, Kingdom work is being done in the diapers and dishes. Faith (perfected faith) is what He's after.

You are seen. Your faithfulness is in the attitude with which you meet this sticky repetition. You don't have to conjure up hope, Jesus walks with you and gives freely. He is the forgiveness you need for all the temper tantrums (your own and your children's). He's the strength and the song in the exhaustion. 

Death is nearer than the repetition of the everyday will allow you to see. "We are all just walking each other home" after all. Some will arrive there in this moment. Some will approach it so slow and steady the change from infancy to adulthood will seem strange and startling. 

This is just what it feels like. Don't lie down in drama. Choose a smile. Cry your tears. It's life. Give and maybe you'll just be astounded at what measure He pours out from this little self of mine. 

You are a mother, don't act like a martyr. 

Kindly,

Yourself...

Death by Repetition

We don't see them grow... That's the problem. We know they grow, but they look the same every (early) morning. 

So does our to-do list. 

So does our mess. 

The same activities making the same mess requiring the same (stinky) work. 

There's no deadline to motivate procrastinators. There's no clock out time to count down to. There's no measurable outcomes to mark off... 

Just a juggling routine on a tight rope with no audience. 

What's the right balance between no schedule chaos and over scheduled exhaustion? What's the sweet spot of alone play and being an active mom who makes memories? When is the right moment to intervene in sibling arguments? How much work outside the home verses in the home? What's the right schooling option for this family? How much responsibility is enough for all their ages?

What is the answer? We're all just making this up as we go...

The sheer amount of things that need done combines with the knowledge that you're just going to have to do them all over again, further fueled by the feeling that no one cares if it even gets done can make it very easy to spiral into parental depression... Losing sight of the vision of a unit of life and settling for surviving until the next benchmark. 

They are growing... We just can't see it. 

The repetition of our daily existence leads us to look at our ability to arrive somewhere on time as the utmost in success. That's something we can accomplish. That's something we have a goal and a plan and a deadline to meet. Except we just canNOT actually achieve this. We can not get all the socks and all the shoes on all the feet with all the zippers zipped all the way up with all the last minute poops taken with all the things packed in all the bags and all the bottoms in all the right seats with all the buckles clicked and all the traffic planned for to meet the deadline with success. Never. It doesn't happen. So we regularly feel like failures... As if the messes and bickerments and lost tempers weren't already chanting loudly enough in our ears... 

We don't see the big picture unless we fight to see the big picture. 

We need to heed the awed exclamation of the survivors of toddler years, and grade school growers, and teenage phase warriors... "It goes so fast". 

We need to battle to grasp the truth that the repetition tries to hide... They are growing... We just can't see it. 

We need to find a strength beyond our own to enable us to repeat the same action, and correction, and conversation, and instructions over and over and over with grace... Knowing that it's not lasting forever. 

We need to seek a rest in our weariness instead of seeking to avoid that which leads to weariness and forgiveness for all the times we fall... 

For if we do not fight these fights, we will have many years of repetitive longing... Longing for a moment to return to the repetition that we feel so very trapped in this moment... Longing for the benchmarks we wish to arrive now to have taken some more time... Regretting...

Instead, let's be so present, so real, so engaged in this time that we can let it pass with more peace. Not because we do it perfectly, but because we parent deeply. 

They are growing. This is changing. This is hard. But it's so very worth the repetitive battle to dwell presently in this time. This hard, sticky, trying, emotional, time... Believing what we aren't clearly seeing. 

Press on warriors. We are parents. And they are growing...

"Come to Me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 

Take up My yoke and learn from Me, because I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light." Matthew 11:28-30

Lessons in Moving

It's not been a lack in housekeeping skills... It's been a presence of a social life. 

Having extra stuff is NOT convenient. Generousity is a blessing to both the giver and the receiver. 

God's beauty is everywhere. 

There are blessings that top the close proximity of Target... Like developing friendships through making the hour trek together. 

Some cities have secret rules about invisible lanes you can drive and park in... Cleveland is one of those cities. 

There can be woods in the city!

Regardless of whether on a 1 acre, creek possessing, country lot or a three car wide cement slab, my kids can make up awesome games to play outside. 

States have different landscaping styles. 

Porches are nice no matter what the scenery. 

Good churches are everywhere... But feeling at home at them takes time and vulnerability... Both which are hard to invest when you're missing people. 

Google maps is my friend. 

Investigating new coffee shops is super fun!

Not knowing where to go out to eat because there are so many choices doesn't actually feel much different than not knowing where to go because there's so few... Although ending up at many different places is fantastic!

Close proximity Starbucks is a threat to a budget. 

Metal detectors don't seem to phase new kids. 

There's a sweet moment when you walk into the building you've been working so hard to settle into and you think "I'm glad to be home." That moment is a blessing. 

Forging friendships with people who speak different languages feels awkward. 

More choices is harder...

"These kids here yell more and do sassy head movements." (Hannah's observation)

This world is not our home... It is ALL just temporary. 

What's The Thing?

What's the thing when you're a great mom when you're not around your kids?

What's the thing when you spend money and energy buying things for your kids to just fight with you about putting away?

What's the thing where you have a college education, but you skim through a library book your kid wants to borrow to make sure there aren't "too many words" to actually read?

What's the thing when thinking of what's for dinner becomes galaxtically harder than it ever should ever be allowed to be?

What's the thing when you find your offspring adorable and intriguing and incredible but spend the majority of your time with them calculating how much longer until they sleep again?

What's the thing where grocery shopping alone somehow became comparable to a vacation?

What's the thing where you can literally feel guilty about how your child eats, drinks, sleeps, talks, doesn't talk, poops, learns...?

What's the thing when you vigorously defend the thing you're only attempting as your best shot in the dark?

What's the thing where you're an actual grown up and yet you hide in the closet to eat chocolate because you don't want to share?

What's the thing when you bite your tongue while chewing and can't for the life of you figure out why you were ever chewing that hard?

What's the thing when the sound of your own child's cough makes you completely irritated?

What's the thing when you caNOT wait for date night, yet when the sitter actually shows up you can't formulate a single idea of what to do? 

What's the thing when you are awake and going by 7:17 AM, yet can't make it on-time to a 10:30 appointment?

What's the thing when you catch yourself yelling "stop screaming at each other!!!" at the top of your lungs?

Oh yeah... Parenthood. It brings out the selfishness, pride, shortcomings, and tendency to run late... No sin will remain hidden under layers of sleep-filled nights and clutter-free living. This job brings out all the junk we thought we had together among the land of the self-responsible humans. It's hard. We will mess up... But then there's always that thing... The thing where it says that if we "confess our sins He is faithful and just and will forgive us and cleanse us from all unrighteousness"!!! And that other thing that says that in [all] my weaknesses His strength will prove perfect... So let's chuckle a bit, apologize a lot, and keep living the example of forgiven weakness. 

...And let's tone it back on the chewing intensity, for Pete's sake. 

The Words i Need to Hear

i celebrated Mother's Day 2015 in the most luxurious way i could've imagined... Well, the second most luxurious... A tropical vacation could've topped it... (Nevertheless) i celebrated with a DAY OFF! 

(Fathers of young children, learn from my fantastic husband... Your wife probably wants a day off and now, possibly, a tropical vacation...)

i walked out of the house and did whatever i felt like doing. My day might have included a long run in the woods (i found woods in Cleveland!), wandering Marc's, Starbucks and sushi, writing and feeling guilty that on the day that is set aside for celebrating the miracle of motherhood, i spent fleeing the responsibility of the four young humans who make me a mom. 

A responsibility many women long desperately to have... Or to have again. 

But the feelings are feeling right now in my life. And i find that even in the joyous, and definitely in the normal, i feel on the verge of suffocation... and space allows a deep breath to inhale. 

So today i expanded my lungs and my thoughts cleared enough to look at the imaginary suffocation threat... And i discovered that when my nerves are raw from blessings and struggles alike, this is a time when i'm thirsty for Titus 2 women...

i need someone to teach me how to love my kids.

When the feelings don't match the happenings... And especially when they do. When my insides feel worn out and all the solutions to energize fizzle out upon real life returning. When insecurity is relentless and comparison feels involuntary...

i need to hear from you...

i need to hear...

- that your kind, functional, God-fearing grown children made you want to run and hide at times. 

- that it felt like your special needs child was literally never, ever, ever going to communicate without howling frustration, the very moment before something clicked. 

- that sad days where you still found moments to smile were counted as victories. 

- that you were just making this whole parenting thing up as you went, too...

- that home school was as all consuming, never ending and hard for you... Even maybe just sometimes. 

- that fast food was a part of your children's diets and they grew up healthy in spite of that. 

- that overwhelmed is just a feeling. One that is allowed to be felt regardless of how much "more" other people are handling. 

- that grown ups still are thankful for the skills that childhood chores taught. 

- that there are tactics to quieting the lies and choosing truth. 

- that school decisions are not terminal.

- that amazement at who your kids are resided in the same place as the shock of their ridiculousness in you too. 

- that perfectionism does not have to be passed down from me. 

- that sometimes home school felt like choosing which age group you would presently neglect. 

- that you took time away from your kids and they were benefited because of it. 

- that fights are often necessary to improve communication and deepen intimacy.

- that the comparison game is one worth refusing... Regardless of how much of a struggle it may be to reject. 

- that sometimes feelings are thick and sticky, but that doesn't change love. 

- that this is maybe just what parenting is supposed to feel like sometimes...

i need to hear this. Because sometimes "knowing" isn't loud enough. And from the outside most of y'all look like you are rocking this mom-thing. (For instance: i know people who have graduated from home school (with younger siblings even)!!! i'm completely mystified how that could happen...) 

Maybe my sadness over our recent move makes my feelings less permeable to my knowledge. And the "unsettled" feeling makes us all a little more prone to tantrums. i don't really need the feeling to go away. i just need to know that it felt this way for you, too. So please, in this moment, feel free to share all the yuck that you survived. Even though your perspective proves how quickly it passes, some of us are in the long days of it all. 

And there are words we need to hear...

"In the same way, older women are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers, not addicted to much wine. They are to teach what is good, so they may encourage the young women to love their husbands and to love their children..." Titus 2:3-4

My Mom the Cheerleader

My mom is a cheerleader.

i heard stories about her cheering when she was in school.

i witnessed her cheer for my sisters' track meets, soccer and basketball games when i was growing up.

And she cheered for me and my teams during my games.

 

Maybe every insecure junior higher thinks her parent is the loudest cheerer in the stadium...

But i heard my mom cheer louder than every other person out there.

Even louder than the coach.

 

And i needed those shouts of encouragement.

 

In my adolesent ultra-awareness i feared that my mom's cheering would draw attention to the fact that i hadn't started the game, or that i wasn't the fastest runner, or the most confident player.

When i wanted to disappear after dropping a pass or missing a shot my presence was illuminated by emphatic cheers to shake it off and reassuring encouragement that i'd get it the next time.

My mom's cheering left no place for me to hang my head and hide.

 

Her cheering opened up all the space i needed to try again,

and again,

and again...

until i got better.

Maybe i never became the best player on the team, but i pushed forward to achieve my goals and realize that improvement in itself was a challenge worth pursuing. 

 

i didn't know it then, but i needed my mom to cheer the loudest,

because i felt the smallest.

My mom's cheering was an undeniable sign that she thought more of me than i was convinced was there.

It proved to me that she saw value in me when i couldn't see it.

 

i needed a fan.

i needed a cheerleader.

i needed my mom.

 

And i still do.

She now cheers for me as a wife and mother and just for being me.

And when i feel like i'm failing as a mom, or struggling as a wife, or just not so sure of myself in general...

my mom is my cheerleader. 

"Her children rise up and call her blessed. Her husband also praises her: “Many women are capable, but you surpass them all! ” Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the Lord will be praised." Proverbs 31:28-30