Four Score… Well Actually Just Four Years Ago

Aug 18, 2012 | The Parenthood

It was Christmas Eve, 2007 when it hit me. The possibility that a recent little bout of nausea, and a few other incidences I chalked up to being a lot busy and a little stressed, could mean something other than I needed to slow down a little bit. It was enough of an inkling for me to mention it to the Hero Hubs. And since it was Christmas Eve, we excused ourselves as if we were on a last-minute elvish mission, and we dashed to Walgreens, to look for that aisle, to look for that section, to look for that test.

We rushed back to my Mom’s, scurried upstairs, took both of the tests in the box, and stared each other in the face for a moment.

I leaned into HH’s chest and cried. And then we both smiled. We laughed. We stared at each other in disbelief. I may have cried again.

He was a father. I was a mother. We were going to have a baby.

We returned to Scotland when I was about five months pregnant. It was daunting to leave North Carolina all over again, but I knew an adventure was ahead of me.

And on the 17th of August, 2008, we went to the hospital around noon, got sent home because I hadn’t progressed enough, stopped for two bacon rolls with brown sauce along the way, watched Michael Phelps win his eighth gold medal in Beijing while we timed my contractions, and then we loaded ourselves back into our car to head back to Edinburgh’s Royal Infirmary. On our next trip home, there would be three seats occupied in the vehicle.

The labour was long, the birth was an overwhelming mix of amazing and downright scary, and perhaps it was at the moment when a nurse came into the room and told us that visiting hours were over and the Hubs would have to leave — around 5:00, just a few hours after the Bear had joined our family at 2:26 am on August 18th — that the reality of motherhood sunk in. I was in pain, I was overwhelmed, and I was about to be doing this thing by myself for a little while.

I cried.

And the Hubs came back as often as he was allowed, but those two nights in that hospital were the two longest, scariest, loneliest nights of my life.

But when we got home from the hospital and our life together as a family really felt like it began — the most joyful moments I’ve ever experienced started making appearances on a regular basis.

That fall-to-your-knees-how-can-I-be-so-blessed thankful kind of joy.

The funny thing about motherhood is I think it is never going to be what you expect it to be. I never thought having children with me all day would make me feel lonely. I’d been babysitting since I was really young — why was I so scared? And how do ridiculously happy and oh-man-this-is-hard so consistently go hand-in-hand?

One night between that Christmas Eve and that August morning, the Hubs whispered it to me in bed, while I stared at the ceiling:

“I think the Lord told me that we’re going to have a boy. I think we’re supposed to name him Asher.”

It was the first name we both loved.

We researched the meaning: Happy and Blessed.

At my prenatal checkups the diagnosis was always the same: You’ve got a happy baby in there!

In that long labour, as they monitored my contractions and listened to the Bear’s heartbeat, while I was up and down, he had a peaceful, steady heartbeat. And the words were whispered again: That’s a happy baby right there!

Hours later, as I held him to my chest for the first time, my hair a wild afro thanks to the journey of labour, my face a swollen mess, him a shriveled lump of eight pounds and change, I had no idea how Happy and Blessed I was going to be. How Happy and Blessed our family was going to be.

Two first-time aunts and two first-time uncles and four first-time grandparents on two continents, the joy just spread.

He might occasionally be the reason I want to bang my head against a wall, but more often he’s a reason I want to fall to my knees, happy-thankful.

Instead of a plus sign, the pregnancy test should’ve read “Joy ahead” or “Adventure Coming Your Way.”

He amazes us on a regular basis. He’s reading the Dick and Jane books my Mom gave him Tuesday. Today he went from completely afraid of the water to swimming on his own with a life jacket. He’ll put a puzzle together before you can say “Do you need to see the picture on the box?”

And he frustrates us on a regular basis. Screaming at the top of his lungs for no particular reason. Getting overly-rough with his little brother. Copping an attitude I thought I wouldn’t see until the teenage years.

What a paradoxical gift of grace, this parenting thing. I see myself, in the eyes of the Lord. Sometimes eager to please. Sometimes afraid to trust. Sometimes downright certain my way is the way.

Who knew that plus sign on that test meant I would soon have a student…and a teacher?

{This birthday morning, at the Beach}

So much I don’t know yet, so much still to come — one thing remains, and we’ve been certain of it since nearly the beginning: We are happy and blessed, with Asher.

Thank you for four ridiculously wonderful years, Bear!

xCC

This Little Love of Mine {Actual Gender News!}

Aug 1, 2012 | The Good Word, The Parenthood

I look out the window that’s high overhead and see a gray sky. Scotland comes to mind and I’m flown away briefly to a few gray memories, before I journey back to the reality on the TV screen on the wall. A large metal fan oscillates back and forth, looking for a new direction to blow a little cool air. The lights are dim, and it draws my attention to the wall where it’s mounted. These walls have been painted pink. I smile.

I focus again on the black and white images on the screen. My brow furrows a little as I try to make sense of them.

There’s the bladder. Those are the kidneys. A mouse moves across a screen to direct my attention to two black circles.

The room quiets again, occasional boops and beeps breaking the monotony of the fan, gentle and steady, back and forth. I can see a spine, a rib cage.

This is an arm right here. Pulled up, almost behind the head on this side.

I smile because I’m laying on a table, my belly exposed and covered in gel, both of my arms are stretched back, hands cupped behind my head.

The baby is like me.

{Our first tiny heartbeat, almost four years ago… wow!}

HH stares at the screen with great interest, glances over and teases me for being teary-eyed.

“I can’t help it! It’s just so amazing!” I wipe away tears. Why try not to marvel? These glimpses into this secret world never cease to amaze me. This sacred sanctuary where fearfully and wonderfully, this precious life is being knit together, right here.

I wipe tears, keep staring.

Through the blur and static a face emerges briefly. There’s the face! See?

There’s an ear, a foot, we clearly see the tibia and fibula inside a tiny little leg. This is glorious.

“What’s the scale of that, to actual size?” I ask as she measures the thigh bone.

“That one? That measures 4.5 cm.”

HH holds up his fingers with about four and a half centimeters of space in between.

“Wow! Oh liefie.” This Afrikaans word is the first to come to mind — in my mind I hear old friends saying it to their small children, like “Lovey” or “Honey” or “Dear” but perhaps with a connotation of smallness. It sounds like the word for Love, as if you’re saying “Little Love.”

This little love is there on the screen — the tiny person, created out of love, who’ll someday be walking, talking breathing, from love. Love.

And I sway back and forth like the fan — thinking about asking, uncertain of whether I want to. There’s just one more detail about this little love we don’t know for sure yet that I sure would love to know.

We see crossed feet, I smile and marvel. We listen to the heartbeat and watch lines move across the screen. Like a tiny train, chugga-chugging in our direction, about to change our lives forever, the precious heart of this little love quickly beats, and I remember hearing the Bear’s heartbeat for the first time more than four years ago. Suddenly, everything was different.

My mind wanders back to that epic moment all those years ago, and then the big question comes, “Now did you guys want to know the gender?”

HH laughs and I grin from ear to ear. “Yes please!”

She moves the wand around for a while longer, an adorable little bottom emerges, I furrow and stare at the screen, almost holding my breath.

I am so thankful. And I’ll be thankful for whoever the Lord wants to give us — but I sure have been hoping for someone I could dress in ruffles and pink and polka-dots.

We receive the news, she types it across the screen, prints out a picture with a pointing arrow, but it makes absolutely no sense to me. I cry.

HH says his mind flashes forward to a wedding day in the distant future.

Two hours later, I’m back at home, and we’ve spoken to the grandparents far away in South Africa. They smiled across the computer screen and clapped their hands. I’m now holding my phone up to the lips of that heartbeat we first heard four years ago. He speaks it into the mouthpiece, not quite loud enough for his grandpa to hear it across town:

I’m gonna have a sister!

Sounds like pink and polka-dots are in our near future… and I’m ecstatic.

xCC

 

 

Travelling with Small Children

Jul 25, 2012 | The Parenthood

I think this post is pretty long overdue. Every time we go on a big old trip that approaches the twenty-four hours of travel landmark and wipes us out for a while, I think to myself Self, you need to write down some tips about traveling with children, first because other people could benefit from your mistakes experience and second, because you will probably need to go back and read those tips again in six months or so. When we got back from this most recent trip to Scotland and a friend asked me for traveling advice, I decided I would finally put my fingers to the keys on the subject.

Ready to dive in?

{Look! Getting ready for the Bear’s first ever trip to South Africa…}

Travelling Tips for Anybody

I’ll start with some tips that have a wider breadth of application — I know not all of you dear readers are likely to be toting a toddler on your next trip to Vegas.

  1. Pack Light :: “I really, really regret packing light for this trip.” — said No One. Ever. Especially if you’re lugging your kid’s gear along with your own stuff, but even if it’s just you, you will appreciate the easy stroll up to the check-in desk or slipping one reasonably sized bag into the trunk of the car.
  2. Plan Ahead :: You really will save yourself a heap of backache and headache while you’re away if you give some good thought to the clothes that you are going to put in your suitcase. As much as I hate it, planning outfits really is the easiest way to make good choices. Think about how you can get multiple wears out of what you’re packing so that you’re getting more bang for your packing buck. Although I almost always regret not throwing one or two things in the suitcase, it is often the case that even if I’d thrown an extra ten things in those hectic five minutes before our departure, I still wouldn’t have chosen the items that I end up wishing I had on the trip.
  3. Pack Early, Go to Bed :: Staying up late the night before a long trip to pack is just plain silly. Plan a slot of time a few days before the trip to get the bulk of your packing done, then you’ll just have to grab the toiletries and stuff you use every day the night before/the morning you leave.
  4. Remember the basics :: Don’t forget comfortable shoes for your travels. Pack toiletries into something that closes/zips so that a little leak doesn’t get your whole bag soggy. I think the travel size containers for shampoo, etc. are totally worth the 50 cent price tag.
  5. Use Trial and Error :: Don’t be afraid to try packing more than one way to see how things fit.
  6. The airplane is the desert :: No, seriously. Do you know what the conditions are at 30,000 feet? They’re so dry it’s like the desert. So pre-hydrate before you hop on and then re-hydrate continuously throughout the flight. If the flight attendants aren’t dropping by with water, get up and get some. You need it. Your kids need it. It will help you feel better on the other side.

There are some more great tips on packing here.

{Arriving in Amsterdam last month…shew-whee, tired!}

Good Travelling Starts at Home

  1. Forgive the lecture, but if your kids can’t sit still at home, do you really expect them to do it in the car or on an airplane? In preparation for your travels, pay attention to how much your kids are listening and obeying you. You might need to spend a little extra time training them in the way they should go before you get going. Make it fun — build a pretend car or airplane with chairs from the kitchen on the floor in the living room. Use your normal belts as seat belts and practice focusing on a sitting-still activity for an hour… get your kids excited about the fun they’re going to have, flying on an airplane, or riding in the car.
  2. Practice the sermon before you hit the pulpit: Find some sitting-still activities that actually work for your kids. DO try this at home. Practice getting small children to sit in your lap for a while if they’re going to be lap-kids on the plane. Bring a pair of headphones that fit your kid’s ears. The ear buds they pass out on the flight don’t stay in wee ears. Ever. Even if your headphones don’t work on the flight system, you can use the headband-style headphones to hold the ear buds in place.
  3. Get strategic with those carry-ons :: Are there books that always engage your toddler? Would a new sticker book, some stamps and a stamp pad or a colouring book keep your child entertained for a good wee while? A kiddie laptop that has a heap of games on it or downloading a few kiddie movies onto your laptop or iPad are sometimes very worthwhile investments. Don’t count on in-flight entertainment to take care of this for you — sometimes it’s broken and sometimes you’re on a flight with one screen per twenty people and the in-flight movie is Thor. #Thathappenedpeople

We are That Family has a Mega-Tip List for Road Trips right here.

{A Nursing Pillow like The Boppy can really help a baby sleep nicely on your lap. Look at that teeny-tiny Bear!}

Especially for the Small Ones

    1. Count Diapers, Add Extra :: A flight delay once stranded my sister and she was down to the last diaper. A fellow passenger was kind enough to hold her kid while she went to the bathroom to scoop the poop out of a slightly soiled diaper so that they could make it the rest of the flight. I’ve never seen diapers for sale at Duty Free, and I am pretty sure you’re not going to find them on that cart the flight attendants push down the aisle. Make sure there are extras in your carry-on! You just don’t know what’s going to happen when you travel, so be prepared.
    2. Pack Extra Clothes for the kids AND you :: You might not be likely to spill juice on yourself, but it’s twice as likely your kid’s knee might find its way to his tray table, or yours. Baby spit-up… a juicy diaper… I don’t need to go on. Just put a little something extra in the carry on, for everybody.
    3. Cabin pressure changes :: This is specifically an issue for babies and very young children. You know how your ears sometimes have trouble equalizing when you’re changing altitude? That hurts baby’s ears even more. If he or she likes a pacifier/binker/dummy, try your best to remember to give it to baby specifically at takeoff and landing, and other times in between. Nursing, sucking the thumb or giving baby something to drink are alternatives that can help keep the ears equalizing as the plane rises to cruising altitude or makes the descent.
    4. Throw out the schedule (sort of) :: Sometimes the staying on schedule will help keep your baby happy during a long trip, but other times, it just isn’t going to work. Don’t stress too much about the fact that you’re getting off-schedule if you’re the scheduling type — the fact that you are stressed will make your kid more stressed. And if you’re changing time zones, you’ll have to re-work the schedule on the other side anyway. If they will sleep, let them sleep!
    5. Snacks. Are. Awesome. :: We kind of throw out the eating rules when it’s travel time, too. I will not fight with my kid over eating Delta’s vegetarian pasta. If he wants the dinner roll with some butter and that’s as far as we get, great. I’ll save the cheese and crackers when I pass in the tray and maybe he’ll eat those later. Pack plenty of extra snacks, because when all else fails, passing the fifteen-month-old who’s hollering in the backseat M&Ms one at a time might just save the day. {Did I ever tell you that it was about 11 hours on the road to get from our place in Gordon’s Bay to the Hubs’ folks in Bloemfontein?}
    6. Happy makes happy. :: I hope I’m not the first to break the news to you. You’re a parent now, and with little ones, your preferences kind of come second. Communicate with your spouse about how you can take turns or do shift duty with the kids. {I’ve seen spouses fighting on airplanes about who should be watching the kid. Tweren’t purty.} Know that it is very possible you will not get to watch all of, or even part of, a movie on the flight, but that’s okay. Because you, and all the other passengers, will be happy that your kids are happy. So go ahead and absorb this present reality — by the time they hit three or four they might watch movies and be very low maintenance — but until you reach that golden point in time, make peace with the possibility that you might not get to dive into that vacation book just yet.
    7. Grab that Bassinet :: You know those funny holes on the walls where the plane is divided up into sections,the ones right in front of the bulkhead seats? A lot of airlines have little cots that fit into those holes, or strap onto a table that folds down from the wall. It is DEFINITELY worth asking the airline if you can reserve the bassinet seats as soon as you book your flight, if you have a baby that even just *might* sleep in there for a little while. You’ll be thankful you don’t have to hold them the entire time! Ask when you make a reservation, ask again when you’re checking in… ask the flight attendants when you board… it doesn’t hurt to keep asking if you don’t manage to snag those precious seats right away.
    8. Perhaps consider one of these! (FlyeBaby Hammocks — has anybody ever tried this? I am thinking it could be a very worthwhile investment if we are going to travel early on with wee Collie #3.)

The Sermon in a Nutshell: Thinking through your travel schedule, being prepared, communicating with travel companions — even the small ones — and planning ahead are really the keys to a successful trip. If you are able to drive while the kids are sleeping or take an overnight flight where they’re likely to be flat out asleep for seven or eight hours, great. Even if it’s the case that you have very little control over the travel schedule, just being mentally prepared for what’s ahead is usually a big help. It might even prevent you from the sudden realization that you’ve suddenly growled – aloud – at the airport security agent who is just doing her job, and just asked you to take the shoes off of your eighteen-month-old while you’re juggling folding down the stroller to send it through the x-ray thing and trying to keep an eye on the other two bags that you’re toting along as well. Not that I personally know anything about that. Ahem.

Have you spent any time traveling with children? Have any tips to add to the list? Please leave a comment!

xCC

 

Other Helpful Links:

The TSA’s website has a big section devoted to Travelling with Children — this is where you’ll find regulations about bringing juice/breastmilk/formula and other stuff aboard.

This website is all about Flying With Kids. Who’da thunk it?

 


The Cost of Serving the Urgent

Jul 3, 2012 | The Good Word, The Parenthood

Last week I took a deep breath at the end of a busy day. The Hubs had headed out to the gallery to get some more work done. The Tiger was already in bed, and I was hoping he would fall asleep quickly, and then the Bear would follow suit. {They are kind of getting up to mischief when we put them down at the same time at night so we’re figuring out how to work that out best, and sometimes it involves letting the Bear stay up until the baby’s asleep.}

We’d been scrambling all day, and probably the day before. And the day before. Thanking heaven for ‘summer camp’ keeping the Bear busy at the church where he goes to preschool during the year, thanking the Lord for my Mom and Dad, helping with the boys so that the Hubs and I could be at the gallery working lots and often. There was a general sense of urgency about life — this deadline looming ahead of us. So many tasks that needed completing before that deadline.

But I’d decided that evening, at bedtime when Work, Round 2 often starts, that it was time to play the board game the Bear was asking me to play. He looked so sweet, sitting on the floor in Dinosaur pajamas, over-the-moon-excited that we were going to play a board game, that I stopped to snap a picture with my phone, eager to savour the moment again, even after he’d gone to bed.

I took the picture with Instagram, and wanting to share it, I paused for a moment to give it a caption. These words immediately came to mind: Probably the most important thing I’ve done today. And remembering this old post of mine, I added #SpellingloveT-I-M-E.

When I enter into the space where ‘the urgent’ becomes the tyrant dictating my life, a couple of friends often come to join me on the journey. I sometimes start getting ulcers in my mouth, or strange aches and pains in different places. I sometimes get headaches, and I struggle to put one foot in front of the other to get everyday things done. It’s like my body is saying, “Hey Idiot! Stop stressing and running around! I’m not supposed to run on all six cylinders for this amount of time. You’re gonna burn me out!”  My time with the Lord gets pushed aside because of all the other things that need to get done, and THAT is when things really start heading south.

Ya’d think I’d learn my lesson by now, wouldn’t ya? 

After the Bear and I had played our game (he beat me twice without me even trying to let him win!) and read a story and he’d settled off to sleep I thought more about those words I’d given that photo — and the truth in them. More than I want the Hubs to have a successful photography business, more than I want to create breathing space in our budget so that we can perhaps look for our own home, more than I want to live with a house that is even reasonably tidy, I want to raise these boys we’ve been given to steward well. I want them to be well-adjusted. I want them to serve God with passion. I want them to know we love them.

I don’t want them to grow up saying they felt disconnected from their parents. And I want to know about their lives, and not because they are posting about themselves on Facebook and I’m reading it.

I was reminded of some simple truths about living under the Tyranny of the Urgent — lessons that I often need to be reminded of — as I thought through where we were and how things were going.

First, if you live your life trying to please people OR please your own unrealistic expectations, you are inevitably going to fall short and be frustrated with yourself.  If you focus on trying to please God every day, you’ll find that pacing yourself, making wise choices, and even getting GOOD rest pleases Him. No one else is going to guard your time and rest. People will take as much as you’ll give them, and encourage you to keep giving out more.

There will always be something that feels urgent, but doesn’t have to be treated that way.

If you can rest in the knowledge that the only one you need to please is your heavenly Father, and focus on following His leading, you will do well. With His leading I can love my husband and my children well. Listening to His whispers I can recognize when urgency is dictating my schedule while important is slipping through the cracks. If that’s the case I’m probably overcommitted or not managing my time well. I need to start asking questions. What needs to get axed? How should I re-prioritize?

Second, the Lord tells us to rest for a reason. Each day has sufficient trouble of its own. We aren’t supposed to worry about tomorrow. We can rest in the knowledge that God is in control. When we begin stressing that we have to get everything sorted out, voila, we have sore throats, headaches, sickness…and even worse health conditions, many that would have been completely prevented had we been willing to change our pace and make rest and concern for our health a priority. {Remember, don’t kill your horse!}

There will always be something urgent on the agenda. If you keep running after the urgent, you’ll neglect the important, and suffer the consequences.

Third, remember the story of Lazarus. (See John 11:1-44) Jesus heard that Lazarus was sick, but He stayed where He was for two more days before heading over to Judea. Lazarus was the brother of Martha and Mary. This family was very dear to Him. When He (finally) arrived on the scene, Lazarus was already dead, and people were mourning him. The question obviously came from both women — “Ugh, Jesus, where ya been? Cuz if you showed up, om…seeing as how you have healing powers and all…well…it seems pretty apparent if you hadn’t taken your time about getting here, our brother wouldn’t be in a tomb right now.”

It isn’t readily apparent why Jesus decided to take His time about getting there, but He does say in response to the news of Lazarus’ illness, “This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” So for God’s glory, and in God’s timing (we can be sure it was God’s timing since Jesus never stepped out of God’s will) Jesus traveled to Judea without a big rush, and by the time He arrived, Lazarus had been dead four days.

You may or may not know the rest of the story: after conversations with Martha and Mary, and seeing the weeping, Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. In doing so, He demonstrated His power, not just over sickness, but also over death, and many Jews began to believe in Him because of this amazing miracle. (So much so that the Pharisees began plotting to kill Him.)

Jesus could have rushed over to Martha and Mary’s place and healed Lazarus before He passed away. The urgency of the situation could have forced Him to drop everything and ‘put foot’ as HH puts it. But He waited for God’s timing, and in doing so, God was glorified, and His will was done. Many believed, and the stage was set for even greater works yet to come.

There will always be something urgent you need to attend to. But rushing after the urgent might very well cause us to run right ahead of the will of God.

Do not be like the horse or the mule, which have no understanding but must be controlled by bit and bridle or they will not come to you. {Psalm 32:9} Stay in step with God’s leading instead!

The thing is, if you let it, the urgent will always distract you from the important. And sometimes, a series of short-term decisions will change your course for you, and you won’t be headed toward your long-term goals. Are you taking on too many projects for someone else without allowing time for you to attend to your own work? Is your schedule somewhat determined by whatever it is that seems to need to happen the fastest?

When you look back on the season you’re in the middle of right now, do you think you’ll celebrate the choices you’re making with your time … or regret them?

Truly, along with our daily bread, we can trust God for the daily guidance to know what to put our hands to — and when.

xCC

My Three-Year-Old Cheerleader

Jun 30, 2012 | The Good Word, The Parenthood

These wise words of Ann have been whispering to me whenever I’m willing to sit still and listen: Thankfulness precedes the miracle. And I might just be starting to believe it.

The boys were in the wagon, arguing over a tiny monster truck I didn’t realize was joining us for our walk until long after we left the house. Two boys. One toy.

Awesomesauce.

We were halfway down the first road of our walk when I was thinking about turning around.

Don’t lean out of the wagon with the truck! Your brother will do it, too and hurt his hand on the wheel!

Why are you spitting? Don’t spit!

I turned around at the end of the second spit to talk about why my first instruction hadn’t been listened to. I finished speaking to the culprit in question and just before I turned to continue the walk noticed that the spit was collecting in his brother’s hair.

He wasn’t even spitting at the ground. He was spitting at the back of his brother’s head.

And there’s the proof.

I was hot under the collar, even though my shirt didn’t have a collar. And maybe it all happened because you’re a parent too and you need to know that other parents sometimes want to jump out of a nonexistent window or strangle somebody because Today. the Listening. Is Just. Not. Happening.

The whisper came to me again — Ann telling a story about how she decided to just turn her eyes to heaven and start being thankful — out loud — when her two (nearly men) boys were in the middle of a heated spat. I wrote it down, the idea that seemed so new to me — verbally insert thankfulness into stressful situations. Here is wisdom for the taking. But can I practice it?

I remembered a story I heard about Martin Luther’s mother — and was it Luther who said he learned more about faith from her than anyone else? Maybe that was Wesley. But in the middle of the mess of kids in her kitchen, somebody’s Mama would pull her apron over her head and pray.

I wear aprons a lot.

I could do that.

I looked up. Lord, thank you for these tall trees. Sigh. Thank you for these boys. They are a gift — I am thankful for them.

I pushed my soul to try. Before I could get out another thought, there was another distraction — the little one chucked the monster truck out of the wagon, the big one complained that it was his turn. Can interrupted thankfulness still precede a miracle?

I pressed on to the graveyard — this might seem strange, but it’s a very nice place to go for walks in our little town and lots of folks do. Carefully crossing the street, hurrying up a small hill, headed for the big one.

Are we going up the hill, Mama?

Yes.

I wasn’t sure if I could still make it up that hill right now, tugging the boys in the wagon — both of them a month and a half heavier and me, several weeks of pregnancy heavier, since the last time we managed to get out together in the wagon, which was before we left for South Africa. I knew I needed to keep going — a small accomplishment would mean a heap right now.

As I started at the bottom of the hill I noticed a couple of people watching from a nearby basketball court, standing by their cars. Were they watching me? Were they concerned that I was about to pull this wagon with these boys up this hill looking like this? I don’t think I look that pregnant yet.

Do I?

That upward journey was where the magic happened. Though I started off nervous, I was sure-footed, because really it’s not that big of a hill. And they couldn’t have gained that much weight eating all that red meat in South Africa. And hopefully I didn’t either…

Then my cheerleading squad of one started up:

You’re doing it, Mama! You’re strong!

You’re going up the hill, Mama, you’re doing it!

Yeah, Mama, you’re almost there! he kept on.

And finally,

You did it, Mama! You’re so strong! We made it up the hill!

And joy met my grumpy heart. And considering the state of this heart of mine that morning, it was a miracle.

It took a little thankfulness for me to recognize that miracle for what it was. But for my three-year-old to turn from antagonist to the captain of my cheerleading squad — it did something in my soul. Like a sword being hammered out until it becomes a tool for farming.

So I’d like to extend the invitation for you to join me. (And Ann.) When the going gets tough, when the kids get rough, when you’re already late and the tire is flat or the dish falls on the floor and now what, let that be your cue: it’s time to turn to thankful.

Look up at the ceiling if it helps, but take a moment to change your gaze. Out loud, or in your own heart, find a reason to give thanks, and give it.

Could we try it for a while together, and just see how it goes?

I’m expecting to see more miracles.

xCC

Thanks Breathes Life

Jun 17, 2012 | The Good Word, The Parenthood

The bathtub is full and I am alone. Words full of grace and hope rest gently between my hands, the cover stretched from holding my place — continuing this life-giving whisper I’m struggling to receive. And it’s very likely I might never get it right in this lifetime.

The day has been full and long and the evening, lonely. HH gone since eight this morning, me forgetting to truly look my Mom in the eyes to say thank-you for so much help through the day, juggling boys full of life, energy, promise, me feeling a little dead on the inside.

If this week wanted to whisper anything, it wanted to whisper this: Give Thanks.

{Would you believe Tiger Tank wore this exact outfit today? And then I remembered this picture of the Bear from this post? The Tiger is nearly the exact same age. Wow.}

A friend called to ask for a moment to unload. Difficult circumstances at her husband’s work. Some bad news about an old friend made the evening news. Heavy. I talked, too, about letting my stresses get the better of me, this worried heart of mine forgetting to breathe the free air of trusting God. By the end of the conversation we’d encouraged one another, lifted prayers to the Father, laughed and remembered: Hope, there is always hope.

I want to take a risk and just trust.

Another friend called, a brave whisper at the other end of the line on the way home from the doctors: It looks like we lost this one, too. I weep. She weeps. She somehow speaks thankfulness, and commenting on how crazy it seems, speaks certainty in the goodness of God. Right there on the phone on the way home from the news that was read on an ultrasound screen.

I don’t understand all this. I go back to hiding. Forcing smiles with clenched teeth, me, feeling the quickening of new life just getting started — me, undeserving of this gift, 18 weeks along and sometimes thankful, sometimes fearful.

How will I make it? How will I do this?

And a faint whisper I’m afraid to ask in the back of my mind: why not her, now?

If my heart is a desert, worry is a well-worn path through the sand. Fear and worry, the enemies of peace and joy.

Laying in that bath, I worried. These are moments I’ll look back on and see differently, aren’t they? The blessing of these long summer days, little boys who haven’t even started school — I might call the end of a year of preschool a curse, me feeling heavy laden with a long to-do list and the concern of how to juggle, but rightly seen, this too is a blessing.

I worry that I’ll be sad when this changes. I’ve already thought about waving goodbye to this third child who hasn’t even been born yet. Watching these children grow up, leave home, fulfill dreams — how will this old soul cope?

But aren’t His mercies new every morning?

Does His compassion ever fail?

And isn’t that what this book has been saying — what I heard in my own heart a long time ago, and what Ann has been whispering all along?

Start counting the gifts. Start counting the blessings. See.

See because of what has gone before, how you can trust for what is to come: somehow God has always been good. And if a precious friend of mine can brave those words on the way home from the doctors, can’t I shout them from the mountaintop?

What kind of sinner am I, not to see the gifts, remember them, hold them steady in my heart, count and count and say thanks and say thanks?

There are things about now that I don’t like — but this is my schizophrenia, the simultaneous disdain for, and worry that I am not savoring the moments that I ought to be savoring. I am trying to hold them tight and wish them away at the same time.

But here is something true: whether we feel we are dwelling on mountain tops or trudging valleys low, we can be certain that we haven’t gotten to the best part of the story yet.

And God’s blessings never end because His love never ends.

Profound, simple truth leaps off the page at me.

As I begin to let the water drain, I remember lying in a bathtub in Gordon’s Bay, nearly sixteen months ago. Simultaneously wishing away the temporary pains of recovering from nine pounds delivered in nine minutes, and wishing we could somehow set the clock to still for a little while, the precious moments of life’s beginning going too fast. Feeling the ache that a singer etched out in notes while I pushed a cart through the grocery store this morning:

Cause you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cable,
Life’s like an hour glass glued to the table…
No one can find the rewind button now,
Sing it if you understand.
And breathe. Just breathe.

And I let that water drain, hoping my heart can settle to sleep, remembering the words of the God-whisper as I let out the water sixteen months ago: The Good Water is the Water that Flows.

I’m sure of it, that I won’t have all the answers until we see Him face to face, but this certainty fills my heart, reminds me to breathe in the meantime: Thankfulness prepares the way for God.

Thankfulness will carry me through these long days, these worrisome moments — when I rightly see that this, too, is the good water flowing by — all of it will flow until He is here and we see as we are seen, know as we are known.

I am sorry for letting stress steal the joy. I am painfully aware I’m contradicting His command:

Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, trust also in Me. {John 14:1} 

Strange how trust can feel so dangerous. On the playground this morning with the boys, my Mom told me a man walked a tightrope across the Niagara falls last night, continuously praying, putting one foot in front of the other.

I hold on to worry and stress, with the illusion of control, trust feels so risky. But isn’t He trustworthy?

Back to Grace — the account I can never over-withdraw, even though I’m so greatly indebted. His mercies are new every morning — and tomorrow is a fresh chance to give thanks, look to heaven, count blessings, and prepare the way.

Manna-mercy is already falling as I think that out — hope whispers to my soul. Breathe. Trust. Keep seeking and you will find, with hope and thanks, life in abundance.

xCC