May 28, 2011 | Stories, The Parenthood
I occasionally freak out. I recently discovered that I can get so weighed down under stress I feel like I might be sick. I crack my fingers (the way other people crack their knuckles) when I’m thinking, I comfort eat too often, and I am probably addicted to q-tips. (Not Q-Tip, the rapper, but the things you use to clean your ears. Just to clarify.)
And these days, every once in a while, though I’m doing a decent job of playing it cool, the mountains looming in front of us feel big. I sit across from Hero Hubs at Wimpy, where we drink a coffee and share a donut, and I stare at him with big, bewildered eyes, and he holds me steady with a phrase he’s been saying since our dating days:
God’s got us.
But I realise if I don’t tell you that this walk of faith doesn’t always look like me sitting on a sunny patch of grass somewhere pondering a proverb while both my boys are peacefully napping and fresh-baked cookies are cooling on a rack, you just won’t know. And the whisper might come your way that everyone else can handle stress, financial hardship, motherhood, or whatever life throws them without freaking out, except you.
And that’s a lie from the pit.
I had a deep conversation with a good friend recently where I shared a bit about some of the mountains we’re facing and trusting God to scale. When I told her that financially we weren’t really sure how this upcoming move was going to come together (though we trust that it will) and that we were in a hard place, she responded in a way I didn’t expect. She said “I’d be mad if I found out you were in a difficult situation and there was something I could’ve done to help but you didn’t tell me.”
It struck me as a completely logical statement, though I’d never thought of it that way before.
You see, the Hubs and I have raised our own support to do the ministry we’ve been doing here in South Africa, and before that in Scotland. Though a part of our support will come from Global Impact when he transitions to the new job in the US, we’ll still be raising support in order to reach a reasonable salary for his work. And after six years on the mission field, it sometimes gets harder to ask, rather than easier.
Even though it’s a calling, and developing a partnership team to help make your ministry possible is a part of the calling, it’s also a challenge, and sometimes it’s just plain hard. My emotions are as mixed up as the Bear’s toss-it-all-in toy box sometimes, when I’m just preparing to write a newsletter or make a phone call.
But it seems to me that this is a part of the process the Lord has been taking me on for a while. He says something, or does something, or somehow helps me through something. I share it with you, and it seems like the Lord is using it in both our lives, and that’s encouraging. I share because I think if I’m there, or I’ve been there, someone else probably is or has been, too. And then you’re kind enough to confirm my suspicions, and that sure is nice.
So there are two things I want to tell you today, because I’ve been reminded that if I don’t tell you, you won’t know. And I don’t want to make you mad because I didn’t tell you.
1. I freak out, too. Wherever you are and whatever you’re struggling through right now, know that you’re not alone. Be encouraged that life isn’t about always getting everything just right, and Motherhood isn’t graded on a curve. Everybody occasionally walks through circumstances that bring out a big, scared, stare-at-the-ceiling-how-the-heck-am-I-gonna-survive-this cry. And if you’re anything like me, and you like to “put your best face forward” please, please remember that you’ve gotta let your guard down sometimes. Be honest when it’s hard. Share. Bare that big beautiful soul.
And now, I shall follow my own advice.
2. We’re about to make a transcontinental move. Some doors are closing. Other doors are opening. The ones that are opening are on the other side of an ocean. It’s going to cost money we don’t have yet, but we are confident that God is going to provide. If you want to be a part of helping this missionary head to a new field, right at home, and bring her Legal Alien and little ones with her, it would be a blessing, indeed. You can find out the details for how to do so right here.
3. If you’re the praying kind, can I ask for your prayers? This transition sometimes feels like a fight on every front. It’s a spiritual battle. It’s an emotional struggle. It’s a financial challenge. We want to love and honour our parents, bless our children, and above all follow the Lord. Pray however you feel directed. We trust that as our prayers meet God’s power, God will make a way.
Whew. Glad I got that off my chest. So. Wanna go bake some cookies?
xCC
May 9, 2011 | Prayers in Poetry & Prose, The Good Word, The Parenthood
I wrote this just after Baby Brother was born, but today was the day for posting it. I hope it’s an encouragement to you Moms who feel like life’s going a little too quickly sometimes. Please feel free to pass it on. xCC
I lay in a hot salty bathtub this evening, a set of grandparents and a dear friend and a husband downstairs, a two year old delight asleep in his big boy bed, a three day old asleep in the crib in our room.
So much has happened in these few days that my heart is overwhelmed. Two weeks ago my father-in-law had a heart attack, but they waited until they arrived here to tell us, to avoid adding stress to our lives while we waited for this one’s arrival.
The hot summer wind is whipping outside and I’m thankful my hot bath is beginning to cool off as my stitches do their soaking.
This tiny boy arrived without much of a warning. The floor in front of our passenger seat was baptized as we sped to the hospital. Waters of life, pouring out in preparation for life to pour out — it all happened at a frightening pace.
Suddenly he is here and I am home from the hospital, healthy and well, sore and tired. Emotional.
And the juxtaposition of that heart attack hits me like a ton of bricks, set against the backdrop of baby blue life, deep blue eyes, milk and nursing, cradle and grave.
Life happens so fast.
I think about the tiny sleeping boy and experience tells me in no time at all he will reach out and touch my face. He will step. He will dance. He will giggle at his big brother. He will take me by the hands and say, “Comee, Mommy. Blue Clues. Otees. Poopy potty.” All in the blink of an eye.
I bring my hands to my face as I cry out to the Lord:
Lord, it’s so hard! Life is like this water — this river that just keeps flowing. I am in the stream and it is passing and I don’t want it to!
I ponder where I would tell it to stop.
The day he was born? A little too traumatic. The day after? Quite a bit of pain there. A few weeks from now when things are settling in? By then he will already be so many days — so many weeks. I will still want to look back.
The waters of life are around my ankles. I am in the stream and I think of how it could be different. A lake which stays put? A pond which stays still? These things are stagnant.
And the Lord said to me:
The Good Water is the Water that flows.
Yes, Lord. It flows as this baby makes his way into the world. It flows as I fill up this bathtub. It flows as we grow and change and learn and love and walk and die and breathe. And stranded in the wild with the choice between a puddle and a stream we know what to choose.
Good water is water that flows.
I will enjoy what comes down the stream to me. I will splash and drink. Savour and live.
I pull the plug and the water begins to drain from the tub. Before it has drained out, I am up and drying off to look for more.
May 8, 2011 | Baby Photos, The Parenthood
Some see it as an obligation, a duty or a responsibility. Some go so far as to see it as a right. But I was rather taken by the notion this morning at church that motherhood is more appropriately seen as a calling.
Answering that call often means putting other calls on hold.
It often means sacrifice. It often means heartache. It usually means pain like you’ve never felt before.
But it most certainly, for me, has meant unspeakable joy. It has meant life with bountiful laughter.
It has meant a life filled with constant reminders to slow down and enjoy the moment.
And though there are many other appropriate words for motherhood, my favourite of all is privilege.
It’s a privilege to be blessed with these boys for however many days they’re mine. And it’s a privilege worth stewarding. Worth prayerfully covering. Worth diligently and delicately holding.
May grace abound to each of you dear Mothers, today. May God grant you His presence, wisdom, peace and joy as you answer the call to motherhood. May you hold it dear as a privilege, and may your children call you blessed.
Love and blessings to my dear sister who is also a Mother. I love you and think you’re a fantastic Mom!
Much love and many thanks to my dear Mother-in-Love today. Your son would not be the wonderful man he is today without you! I’m so grateful!
And special thanks and praise to my amazing Mother who I love so dearly! You are absolutely, wonderfully one of a kind. Your sacrificial love has been a steadfast companion all the days of my life and I’m so very, very grateful for you. It is one of my most prized, and truly priceless possessions — the joy of calling you my Mom. Thank you!
I pray for those of you reading this, desiring the privilege of motherhood, that the Lord would grant that desire of your heart in His good timing, and that His grace and peace will be yours in the meantime.
Happy Mother’s Day to all near and far, privileged to be called Mother.
xCC
May 5, 2011 | Stories, The Good Word, The Parenthood
It seems like a few moons ago, when we were sitting around waiting for our baby boy to arrive, thinking about timing and life and Valleys of Postponement and even the perfectly timed birth of Jesus. And I’m pretty sure I told you at some point while we were busy waiting, that I had a feeling there was good reason to trust a God whose timing is much better than mine.
As is often the case in the stories of our lives, I didn’t know at the time exactly how the Lord was working things out.
We were expectant, and even hopeful that our second child would arrive early. As his due date approached, we started to think it would be neat for him to be born four days early, on Valentine’s Day, and when that passed we started to think of reasons why other days leading up to the due date might be nice. And eventually we were busy thinking about which days after the due date might be nicest…but I was pretty much to the point that I thought any day would be nice.
After Baby Blake’s arrival, we shared the news with family and friends (of course), and HH’s folks made their way down for the two weeks we’d planned to spend together right after the little one arrived. As we sat down to dinner on one of their first evenings with us, they had some news to share, too. It turned out that on Valentine’s Day, my first day of choice for the baby’s birth, my father-in-law had a heart attack.
He had a quadruple bypass well over a decade ago, and the doctors think that some plaque broke away from the lining of one of the arteries and created a blockage.
But what happened next was nothing short of miraculous.
When pressure built up because of the newly blocked artery, one of the clogged arteries that had been bypassed in that surgery, back in the mid-90s, opened up and started working again.
The doctor wasn’t sure if Dad was religious, but he was sure someone upstairs had been looking out for him.
At the dinner table I quietly wept as my mind took in the possibility that Dad could’ve not been sitting there with us, making a toast to the birth of this new baby boy. I thought about how differently things could’ve been had Blake come early and had they been travelling down to see us and meet the baby when the heart attack happened. They wanted to wait until after Baby Brother came and they were safely here to share the news with us. Dad had time to recover in the hospital and at home before they made the trip down.
The more I think through the alternative scenarios in my mind, the more I see this little one’s arrival as absolutely Perfect Timing. And for so many moments of those two weeks we enjoyed right at the start of this little life, I silently thanked God for what almost wasn’t — what could’ve not been. How that picture up there almost didn’t get taken. How different this arrival could’ve been.
And while I knew we could trust God for His perfect timing, I just didn’t realise how perfect His timing could be.
In every circumstance, to God be the glory.
xCC
Apr 15, 2011 | Baby Photos, The Parenthood
I ‘ve been a little on the tired side this week. {Can’t figure out why!?!} I woke up this morning after a strange dream in which I’d decided to die my hair cotton candy pink and I was using a follow the dots piece of paper I’d printed out at home to cut fresh layers in my hair instead of paying to have it cut properly. Holding up a piece of paper to a section of hair, with scissors, I don’t think it was going so well right around the time I woke up.
Weird, I know.
I realised this afternoon that it has rather been a bit of time since last I updated you on the howabouts and howgoings of the newest addition to the Collie clan. Not to be confused with the newest edition, which was a book by Alexander McCall Smith called the Unbearable Lightness of Scones. It was delightful, but I digress.
When you last received a series of shots and howgoings about Baby Brother, he had just turned one month young, and I am delighted to tell you that he is a bright and chipper seven-week-old now. {Meaning I’ve resisted the urge to post photos every other day.} He enjoys being whistled to and smiled at, he is gurgling and cooing, and he seems especially interested in the movements of his big brother, the Bear. And last week he proudly tipped the scales at 6.1kgs or 13 lbs and 7 oz! I’ll let Baby Brother update you on how it’s going…
It’s been a great few weeks since I saw you last! Hi! Look how happy I am!
I got my first picture of just me with my Mom and Dad. She was teary because I was smiling so sweet.
I’ve been watching my big brother build big towers (and colour on his face!)
He likes it when I cuddle up with him in his big boy bed!
I met my Uncle Vaughan for the first time! He brought me a cool hat and I’m looking forward to wearing it!
I’ve been getting extra cuddles from Agnes since she’s leaving soon. I’m gonna miss her.
Between all the excitement around here and working on my head control, I’m pretty pooped.
Hope your weekend is getting off to a good start!
xCC
Apr 8, 2011 | The Good Word, The Parenthood
Warning: To my one dear friend and reader who is emetophobic, you might want to skip this post. Seriously.
We like pictures around here. You probably already knew that. And of all the pictures we have hanging up here and there, my favourites are always the 5 x 7’s. (How many centimetres that is, I’m not sure, but it’s a step larger than the standard size that’s called “jumbo” in SA.)
For some reason if I had to choose what photo is my favourite in each room, I would almost always choose one in a 5 x 7 frame, because the 5 x 7 pictures always seem like the perfect size. They are big enough to stand alone, but not overbearing when coupled with smaller frames or overwhelmed when paired with 8 x 10s. And they seem just the right size for giving adequate justice to a picture, where you can enjoy it from far away, but also come close and see a little more detail. A good picture frame can really complement the shot.
Like a perfectly sized picture frame, life sometimes seems to bring things into just the right frame for me, in the right timing, so that I see things from a good perspective. In this season, the frame that has perfectly encircled the photo of life for me has been one of thankfulness.
When the Bear joined our family, I was most certainly thankful, but I also struggled. I focused a lot on how little sleep we were getting. I focused on how hard the labour and birth and first two nights in the hospital were. {I really struggled to let that go.} I focused on how hard it was to breastfeed for the first time. I focused on how hard it was going to be when my Mom left Scotland and we had to jump into the ocean of parenthood just us two. The road to recovery from labour seemed like an un-ending, discouraging journey, and while I was very happy that we had been blessed with a child, I spent more time worried whether I was doing things right, how I was going to make it, discouraged and fearful, and not thankful.
Kind of a lot has changed in these two and a half years, even though the circumstances of this birth have been similar in some ways. We aren’t getting the sleep we might like to be getting. I’m still not fully recovered from the toll that labour tends to take on one’s body. And a few nights ago, a perfectly timed “fountain” during a diaper change watered a bowl of raisins, my late night snack sitting by the bed.
Yes, the baby peed on my raisins.
And the next night, after a day of burps and spit-ups from the little one, the Bear emptied his entire dinner onto his high chair, the table, my legs and flip flops and the floor. Immediately following dinner’s return to the table? The French Toast he had for lunch.
I had the idea that I’d enjoy a good soak in the tub with some nice bath stuff some friends gave me at the Baby Shower that night — I ended up sharing that tub with the Bear while I got us both cleaned up. We often comment on the surprising and sometimes shocking things we see outside our door around these parts with the acronym “T.I.A” — This Is Africa. That night was born a new acronym: T.I.P. — This Is Parenthood.
While things still seem a little crazy, we’re much more relaxed with a newborn in the house this time ’round. Breastfeeding has been easier and less painful, and we’ve had lots more help — which has been absolutely wonderful since there are two little ones to juggle. I think we’re getting more sleep than we did at this stage last time, and I think this little one might just be a little easier to handle, mayhaps.
And while these things have helped shape the experience of welcoming our second child into the world, I don’t think any of them is the number one factor contributing to the way I am perceiving my circumstances this time. You see, during the past two and a half years, I’ve had some heart-wrenching conversations with two couples that HH and I are close to who are walking the road of infertility right now. They’re couples that love each other and love God, and I think they’d make far better parents than most — they are just wonderful, incredible people. And while infertility was the subject of discussion for my Master’s Thesis in Edinburgh, it has only become real since I have begun to understand it through the lenses of these friendships.
I’ve wept with these friends and for these friends in the midst of this struggle. They rejoiced with us at the birth of the Bear, and now at the birth of Baby Brother. And their experiences have put my life into a fresh perspective and helped me to recognise that while I might like to complain about the hard stuff…sleepless nights, soggy raisins and barf…I now better understand the privilege that parenthood is. Our time with these little ones is precious, and too special to waste being frustrated when life gets out of control.
When we’re instructed to number our days, or we take time to count our blessings, I think we begin to train our hearts to put the right frame around the lives we are living. Everything may not be perfect. Everything probably isn’t easy. But if you have a place to live and food to eat, I think those are good places to start, with a heartful of thanks.
Finding the right frame enhances the beauty of the picture. What’s framing the photo of your life right now?
xCC
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